2019-07-11 - This Time, There's No Smoke

It's a clear, hot afternoon, with a nice breeze. Alexander has opened the windows (still screened, of course), and Luigi is perched on a windowsill, attempting to teach the birds outside how to talk. They are ignoring him as he paces and whistles. It's right around the time when Isolde has been coming home from work, and Alexander is...cooking? Attempting to cook. Nothing is on fire in the kitchen, and he has sliced and diced his way through veggies and meat, and there's a casserole in the oven about to be ready. He's currently frowning down at the recipe, rechecking to make sure that every ingredient was added in the right proportion at the right time. His smart phone is counting down the seconds until the /exact/ time the recipe has said the casserole can come out of the oven. He paces from recipe book, to phone, to oven, to book again.

Isolde has been a little scarce lately. Usually leaving very early to catch a ride to the Lavender Farm and then coming home and almost immediately falling asleep for a few hours after getting cleaned up. The work wasn't necessarily hard, but being out in the sun all day was tiring! Still, Isolde was excited to have something that was A - keeping her busy and B - allowing her to not continue relying on Alexander for money. She walked in the door, whistling a hello for Luigi as was customary and, "I'm home!" for Alexander. Then furrowed her brow. There was food smells...but they didn't smell like the takeout kind. She tossed her flannel on to the couch and walked over towards the kitchen. "...Are you cooking something?" Slipping into the kitchen so she could at least wash her hands in the immediate moment. Then turning to lean against the counter and peer at Alexander curiously. Then to the oven where something was clearly cooking. And then back to him.

Luigi's head pops up at Isolde's whistle. He whistles back, and bobs his head excitedly. He launches himself from the window, and buzzes her head, then spins around to land...on her flannel on the couch. So close. But he happily grabs the fabric in his beak and starts tugging and pulling on it.

Alexander looks up, and offers a small smile. "Yes. Perhaps successfully. It's been years," he admits, and gestures at the cookbook, "but the recipe is simple. And casserole really can be summed up with 'cut up things, toss in casserole dish, add cream of something soup and cheese, cover with bread crumbs'." He wipes off his hands. "I thought that we had not celebrated. Your job. Your rescue of the girl. These are worth celebrating. And the pizza place exploded."

Isolde grinned as she watched Luigi. One day she would get that shoulder sit. Until they, she didn't really mind him messing with the flannel. It was already so ragged and worn she probably should have thrown it out years ago. But she'd keep wearing it until it was so worn out you physically couldn't wear it anymore. Listening to Alexander as he explained what he had made and why, Isolde smiled again. "It smells good. Certainly more successful than the last time cooking was attempted..." Side-eyeing the plant table. Her own mix of plants were still there- she'd been doing her best and for the most part they still looked good! She just had to find time to try and plant them properly now that she was learning more about that stuff. "I'm sad the pizza place exploded." Back to Alexander. "But happy the girl was saved and that they let me work at the Farm. I like working there. What have you been up to lately?"

"There were extenuating circumstances. You can try lasagna again, one day, if you like." Alexander smiles at her, following her gaze to the plants, then back. "So am I. But at least no one was hurt. Catapulted to a hell dimension to find possibly evil human bones? Yes. But not hurt." His tone is wry. "I'm glad you enjoy it. The working. You seem happy. But tired. Not too much?" He studies her with concern as he tracks down some dusty plates, and begins wiping them off. "Me? History, mostly. And a drug overdose case. Still trying to understand why Gray Harbor is...what it is."

"I will! Eventually. Maybe not lasagna. Maybe something easier. We will see." Isolde nodded. Eyes widening at the talk of evil bones. "That sounds...like trouble." She decided finally and shook her head. "Tired is good. If I'm too tired to think I can't dream." And that was a very good thing in Isolde's opinion. "But not working too hard. Trying not to at least. It's easy to loose track of time, but there's so many flowers!" Case in point that she does seem to always have at least a hint of lavender scent following her arround. "History is good. Lots of history here to learn from. What kind of drugs?" Just curious of course, "...Trying to understand the gray of Gray Harbor might just take forever. I'm going to shower quickly! Before the food finishes." Moving back out to the livingroom so she could pull some clean clothes from a duffel bag she had recently acquired because it was better than the couple of shopping bags she had been using, then would head off to the bathroom.

"I have confidence in you," Alexander tells her, with a smile. That shuts off abruptly at the mention of the bones and trouble. He gives an odd look to a room down the hall - the door that always stays closed, and locked, whenever Isolde is around. "Everything here is trouble," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I'm glad there were flowers. You like it, then? And some sort of...new drug? Some sort of stimulant. Made a woman's heart, ah, explode. Sort of." When she heads back into the bathroom, he waves her off, and moves to set the table with a clatter of dishes and silverware.

"That's true." To everythig being trouble. Isolde was, of course, intensely curious about the locked room - she just hadn't really gotten around to asking Alexander about it. Maybe figuring it was something he'd talk about when he wanted to. Or she just kept forgetting to ask because other things came up. A mental note was made about the drug, because no one wanted their heart exploded, and then a confirmation of liking the Farm. She loved it!

Isolde didn't take too long in the shower, coming out in a pair of flannel pants and tank top- hair still pulled back though. "Maybe you can come see the Farm sometime. Before all the plants are harvested." She suggested. "I think you would like it. Do you need any help?" Not that it was entirely difficult to set a table for two people.

Alexander grimaces at the mention of the Farm. "I'm...not sure about that." There's only a couple of forks left to place at the table, but at her question, he nods, and hands them to her for her to do the honors. Then goes to get the casserole out of the oven. It looks...acceptably casserolish. And not burnt or anything. It even smells edible. He places it on the stovetop. "Places like the Farm are, uh, not great places for me. Too easy to get," he frowns, "sucked in. But if you like it, I'm glad. Just don't," a long pause, "I mean, just remember boundaries. Don't let anyone talk you into anything you don't really want." He turns back to her as he gets a serving spoon for the casserole, his face blank.

Isolde, for her part, looks a mix of disappointed and perplexed. "I won't make you do things you don't want to do." She finally says after rolling something over in her mind. "..Is it a bad place?" Looking a little concerned at the thought. Was it a bad place disguised as a good place? Were bad things going to happen if she stayed there? Isolde felt a little bit of panic start to well up, with that urge for her pills. A glance towards the trash can even though that bottle she threw away is long, long gone. Instead she tugged a little at her ponytail and drew in a slow breath. "Yves said there was a bunkhouse for the workers to stay. But I said I didn't want to leave you and Luigi." She offered but then looked at the casserole. "The food looks good. You did a good job!" Switching the subject.

"What? No. No, I haven't heard anything about it being a bad place, Isolde," Alexander says, hastily. "If I had, I'd tell you. I just." He pauses to grab plates and serve each of them a heaping serving. It's not a LOVELY meal, because casserole, but it looks edible. He sets the plates back down at the places, and gestures for them to take seats. At the table for once, and not eating in the living room. "If you'd like to show me around one day, I'd be happy to go with you." The description of the bunkhouse is given a thoughtful noise. "That's up to you. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, but even if you decided to get somewhere else, you're always welcome here. We're friends."

The praise to the food draws a brief, rusty laugh. "Probably won't kill us," is his wry assessment. He goes to grab them some drinks before sitting down.

Alexander's assurance that it was not a bad place was accepted. For now. She took her plate and her seat at the table. looking around for a moment before her eyes settled back on Alexander. "We should try to sit at the table more." Though it wasn't as comfortable as the couch it was easier for eating. "I don't know." To staying or leaving. "I like it here with you two. But I don't want to impose." And while she was forever grateful for having a place to sleep at all - Isolde had aspirations to sleep in a real bed again! "Either way, I dunno if I want to sleep up there. Only for an emergency thing. If it gets too late maybe." She shrugged and took a few bites of the casserole. While it wasn't the best thing Isolde had ever eaten, it was from the worst. "I like it." After swallowing and offered up another smile.

Alexander tries the casserole himself with an air of skepticism. But, after a couple of bites, he grunts, and says, "Acceptable. Not great. But acceptable." He eats mechanically after that, most of his attention focused on her. "You're not imposing, Isolde. It's been nice having you here." A pause. "But it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you wanted your own space, either. You deserve nice things, and a place where you know where everything is, and decide what goes where, and how - that's a nice thing. There are rentals here on this street, even. Or the trailer park," but he disapproves of that, a little, it's clear.

"Just have to keep making them now and then they'll be great eventually." Isolde offered cheerfully, taking a sip of her drink. "We will see how much money I can save. We could be neighbors! That would be fun." Taking another bite of food. "Trailer parks are usually not good things." Agreeing a bit with his silent disapproval. "But sometimes good people are there. " An idle thought. "But for now I will stay. Maybe we can go to the Boardwalk again sometime when the weather is good and see if the saxophone man is there. I liked his music."

Alexander smiles. "We might get bored of casseroles, though," he teases, gently, as he eats. "And neighbors would be nice." The rest is listened to. "There are good people there. But there are also some not good people. Which applies to everywhere, I suppose. But some not-good people are less public about it than others. Easier to defend from." He waggles a fork at her. "And we can certainly go to the Boardwalk again. Or the beach proper, one day. Get a swimming suit, and we can even go swimming, if you like. Can you swim?"

"...We might. Then we switch to lasagna." Isolde giggled, listening about the not good people and nodding. "This is true. It will be a very last place to look when I am ready to look then." Leaning an elbow on the table so she could rest her chin in her hand. "I haven't been swimming in a long, long time. But it would be fun! I will look for a swim suit." She agreed. "And then we can swim at the beach! Maybe make a sandcastle too." Pondering on it. "That would be fun."

Alexander hums. "Maybe. It's a bit of a rocky beach, but we could probably find a place to make at least a sand /hut/. Sand condo? Something like that." At her resolution, he nods. "Then we'll do that. It'll be fun. I can show you the suicide rock. That's very interesting." To Alexander, anyway. Maybe not to anyone else. He takes another bite, and studies her. "How do you feel? You helped save someone's life. Pulled a child out of the dark."

"A suicide rock?" Isolde looked a little intrigued at least. "We will look at it." She agreed,eating a few more bites of food and shrugged a bit. "I...didn't do much of anything..." She admitted softly. "I am glad that the girl is okay. That she is not dead. That house is a bad thing. Easton and I are going to burn it down." The last part said in a whisper. As if something might overhear her and ruin her plans. Back to her normal voice - "There was a man with us...well a few new peoples...but the one man made all the lights in the house light up after they turned off. I want to find him again. So I can ask him how he did it."

Alexander grins, a bright and sunny smile that lasts only for a breath. "Good. We will look at it." He looks back down to his plate. "And you went. You knew it was dangerous, but you went. Isolde...that means a lot. Especially when YOU know how dangerous it is, what things can happen." He doesn't seem upset that she and Easton plan to burn down a house. At least not that house. But concern does flicker there. "Be careful. Things fight back." Then he blinks. "Really?" Concern deepens, his head coming up to look at the overhead light. "All the lights? I could not do that. Even here, in Gray Harbor, I could not do that. Be /careful/."

Isolde smile a bit more when he did, though it faded again when he continued on. Nodding though. "It was dangerous...that thing...I think that thing in the house is what made the Murrays sick. So it needs to be destroyed." Isolde said firmly. "We will be careful...and prepared." Assuring him. "I will be careful." Repeated for the talk of the man. "Easton helped him after...I think the man was very scared. I should ask if he knows the man's name. I will let you know what I discover about him."

Alexander studies her for a moment, then nods. "Of course. I trust you, Isolde. And if you find anything out about this person, please let me know. I doubt it's a townie - I feel like I'd know someone who could do something like that. But maybe not. Sometimes people contract...or whatever this is, late. I don't really know how it works." He breathes out. "It would be frightening to have that much power so quickly. So he might need help, too."

"He might! I will check. Help is good to have." Isolde agreed. "I am glad that I have you to help me with these things," A light tap to her head, "I don't know what I'd do if I was trying to figure it out on my own." She thought on something for a moment longer. "...Can I try to practice something right now?" Because if you don't practice you won't get better! And you won't get more familiar with these weird things you can suddenly now do.

Alexander smiles. "It's sometimes useful to have someone who has already slashed themselves on the thorns to point out where they are," he agrees, dryly. Then he considers her, and the request. A curt nod. "Of course, Isolde. I assume you mean," he reaches up and taps his temple with the tines of his fork.

"It is!" Isolde agreed, wiggling her toes a little though he couldn't see. Then nodding again in confirmation that she does indeed mean the head stuff. She sets her fork down and shifts a bit in her seat, dark eyes focusing in on Alexander. It took some effort on Isolde's part - she nearly gave up! However, at the last moment, she felt that odd sensation of something giving way. And Alexander would start to get a mental image of rows and rows of lavender flowers, sun shining on them and ready to be plucked up.

Alexander waits. He waits patiently, keeping the walls he's carefully erected around his mind spun down to their thinnest extent, at least where Isolde is concerned. He's receptive, and when he feels that touch, he closes his eyes and lets himself accept it. A faint smile comes to his face as that picture builds itself in his mind. "Ah. Lavender. The farm? It's lovely, Isolde." His eyes open again, and he smiles at her. "Good job. As you get better, you may be able to transmit more full impressions. Not just sight, but sound, sensation. Illusory, but often useful. That's a very good start."

Isolde looked pleased with herself that she was able to do a little something at least. "It is. Very pretty. One day then I could show you it all just from here! That would be neat." She pondered on that. "It is different...being able to do these things. To really know there are...ways to tap in to the power instead of just letting it run all over you. Or seeing it and being helpless." She relaxed a bit in her seat. "Thank you for giving me stepping stones."

Alexander nods, curtly. "Yes. It helps. To have tools that no one can take away from you. And to control it, rather than being controlled by it." His smile is lopsided. "I'm not always good at that part. But I'm glad I can help. But don't thank me," he adds, with another waggle of the fork. "Just don't be evil with it. That's all."

Isolde gave a little smile at that. "I won't be evil with it. I don't wanna be a bad thing." She nodded, finishing off her drink. "But if I ever do something evil with it, you will set me straight right? No matter what that means." She asked, a serious look on her face. Then it was gone and she took the final few bites of her food. "How is your research with the Baxters and Addingtons going?"

"I wouldn't be the right person to do that," Alexander says, softly. "Glass houses and thrown stones. But I will counsel you against it, at least. It never makes a person happy, being a bad thing." He settles back in his seat with a groan at the mention of the research. And rubs his face. "That is a very interesting question. There was a giant, talking face, who offered us information about the history of Gray Harbor if we gave him either a bone from this skeleton that was pulled out of the lost places, or one bone from ourselves." A deep breath. "He also showed me a part of my family tree, and offered the whole thing, for that bone. So we're going to do that. See what happens."

Isolde listened curiously, quietly. "...Are those the potentially evil bones or other bones?" She asked. "And do you need to offer one bone to get your family information and the other information, or multiple bones?" Many questions. The whole thing sounded kind of fascinating. "What did it show you about your family?"

"The potentially evil bones. Or our bones." Alexander looks down at the table, starts sketching something out. It looks like a family tree in structure. "Basically, the offer is: for all the information it wants to share, we either give it one of the potentially evil bones, or one bone from each of us - there were three of us there. Obviously, we're going with the first option. And not much. About my family." He taps a spot on the table. "Here's me." A line up, then a t-section. "My mother, Elizabeth. My father, Thomas." He taps the space for Thomas. "And more beyond that on my father's side, but it was fuzzy - the bastard deliberately obscured it. My parents have always been...normal. Relentlessly normal. They don't stand out. They don't want to know anything about the weird. But the way that fucking face looked at me," his brow furrows, "it was like I was something bad. I want to know why."

Isolde looked from Alexander to the tree and then back. "...You should be careful too. Sometimes not knowing is better than knowing." She spoke softly. This might be a moment where the one saying this stuff would lay a hand on the other persons. However, Isolde's hands remained laced together. "But, even if the face thinks you're a bad thing. I don't. You aren't a bad thing...and even if other people in your family were bad things, it doesn't make you abad thing." Nodding matter of factly. "But even though not knowing is better sometimes...I still hope you find what you're looking for."

"Not knowing leaves you vulnerable to ambush. I'd rather have it out there on my own terms than be blindsided." Alexander looks up at her with a smile, faint and a bit self-mocking. "And don't worry, Isolde. I won't think I'm a bad thing because of what other people have done. I've done enough bad things on my own to tick that box. Don't have to borrow guilt." He reaches for his drink, takes a swallow. "But at least I might find out why I was so fucked to start with." A look back at her. "I'm glad you think I'm a good thing, though."

"We've all done bad things but doing bad things doesn't make you a bad thing if you are doing them with the right intentions." Isolde added. "I have done lots of bad things for good and bad reasons...but I am trying to do good things now." Nodding a bit. "I would like to know what you learn. If you feel like sharing it. You will always be a good thing to me. Unless you do evil things but, I don't think you will do evil things."

"Maybe." Alexander doesn't look convinced. "I try not to judge other people too much. But I know the things I've done, and the things that I'm capable of doing, and it's...well. I don't want to be that. Sometimes I'm not sure I can stop myself from becoming it, though." He opens his mouth, like he might go on, then stops. Shakes it. "None of which I will burden you with, Isolde. I do have a question, though. You said once that when you're trying to think of good things you," a pause while he tries to remember, "...count frogs? Was that it? Do you like frogs?"

"...If you ever feel like you can't, I will try to help you if I can. It isn't a burden to help friends." Isolde leaned on the table, nodding. "When I have trouble sleeping...I count frogs and the frogs help me think about good things. I do like them. They're cute. And tiny. I think I used to have a pet frog. In the very first before. I would like to get another one some day." Head tilting a bit as she thought. "Why do you ask?"

Alexander smiles. This one is sweet and lingering. "Thank you, Isolde. I appreciate that." Then he listens, intently. But to her question, he just shakes his head. "For a reason. Will talk about it later, perhaps." His eyes have dark circles underneath them, but there's a glimmer of humor and perhaps anticipation in their depths. "But I'm glad you have them. You know, the forest sometimes gets a lot of tree frogs in the summer. Perhaps that's somewhere we could go, one day. See a few." A pause. "Don't bring them home. Luigi would not approve."

This answer, of course, makes Isolde furrow her brow a touch in curiosity. "...For a reason..." She repeats, eyeing him. But then she smiles again. "Maybe we can find you something...maybe birds. Something so you can remember good things too." Sitting up a little at the talk of the tree frogs. "Sure! I would like to see some." Shaking her head. "No. Luigi would try to eat them." Or kill them. Either way, she knows the conure well enough to know that he's a one-pet household kind of bird.

"He would." There's no judgment there; Alexander gives the bird a fond look. And Luigi whistles from the living room, as if in cheerful admission that yes, those frogs would be played with until they broke. Alexander glances back to her. "It's a good reason. A good surprise. Just give me some time? And I am trying. To build things. To remember good things. We'll see if it works. But for now...tree frogs. That can be our next excursion. Maybe I'll meet you one day after work? Since the farm is up that way, isn't it?"

Isolde looked over her shoulder towards Luigi and grinned again. "He's a good bird though. I like him. And I like surprises." Usually. Isolde focused back on Alexander. "One step at a time." She agreed. "And tree frogs in the forest. It is! The property leads to them. I haven't explored them yet. So it will be a fun thing to do. Maybe we can bring some sandwiches. Like a little picnic!"

"He is a very good bird." Alexander's voice is warm with affection for Luigi. "Except when he tries to eat things he's not supposed to, of course. And speaking of - we should clean up." He stands. "I'll wash, you dry, and we'll leave the casserole in the fridge. For leftovers. If you want." He gives the dish a dubious sort of look. "And a sandwich picnic sounds lovely. There's a lake there, too. We could go out there - probably have a lot of frogs, and a nice view. And fireflies, in the evening."