2019-07-12 - Downward Facing Dog

The sun is setting over the grey ocean, giving the churning waters momentary color: scarlet, gold, and a deep blue reflected from the darkening sky up above. There are still plenty of people around - the summer season is short, and Harborites know not to waste it. Even so, most avoid the stretched out towel where Alexander is. He has his phone stuck in the wet sand, propped where he can watch it as a very tiny woman tries to explain the basic moves of the Sun Salutation. He's dressed in trunks and a white undershirt - jeans and a black t-shirt are folded neatly in a plastic bag nearby, along with his shoes. His arms are legs are lean, rangy, and with more than their share of scars, many quite old. He's scowling at the phone as he tries to carefully bend himself into Downward Facing Dog, his ass up in the air. "This is stupid," he mutters into the towel. "I feel stupid.

Minerva had decided to bike down to the beach after she'd closed up the office. She'd been feeling cagey since the visit to the house and well...she wasn't sure what it was over. So the bike is settled against one of the racks and chained. She's dressed in a pair of light wash jeans, loose black sweater and a pair of big sunglasses that cover her missing eye. She looks like the updated version of Lydia Deetz really. She wanders down the beach with her shoes in her hand until she comes across Alexander and there's a bit of a smile, "Mister Alexander Clayton is taking a break. Let me get a picture of this." she muses as she starts to pull out her phone.

"Don't you fucking dare, Miss Komisar." The overly formal address doesn't go with the rest of it, at all, especially since Alexander doesn't sound playful, but grumpy. He pulls himself out of the pose and back onto his heels so he can twist about and glare at her. There may be more than one reason people are leaving him alone on the beach. "What are you doing here?" Like it's not a public beach, open to everyone to enjoy. Meanwhile, the phone woman babbles on about serenity, until he reaches over and taps the screen, then slides it back to the beginning of the video. There's a pause. "I'm sorry. That was rude. Are you well?" It sounds grudging, almost like someone is putting him up to trying to sound civil.

"Nice ass. It's Doctor if we're being all former with our greetings." Minerva tells him with a kissy face to follow it. Then she slips the phone back in her pocket, not taking the picture. When he glares at her she just stares at him behind those big sunglasses, unblinking. "I was taking a peaceful evening stroll on the beach and then I saw you. Was going to say hello. But you are exceedingly grumpy." she points out. "So I apologize for saying I was going to take a picture." she adds. She gives a shrug, "It's alright. Used to rude things happening." she gives him a red lipped smile. "I'm as well as can be in this town. How are you, Alexander?" she asks him.

"Doctor? When did that happen? Congratulations." Both the compliment and the kissy face seem to fly past him without recognition or acknowledgement. His glare subsides, though, as the phone slides away. He runs a sandy hand through his hair, leaving it dusted. "Sorry. I don't mean to be grumpy. I'm," he makes a frustrated gesture at the phone, "trying /yoga/. To help me find my inner calm. The video suggested that a 'peaceful, natural venue, like the beach or a quiet backyard' would aid in this endeavor." Another gesture, at the peaceful, beautiful beach. "It feels silly."

"Thank you. I graduated my Doctoral program over a year ago." Minerva smiles to that. "Set up an office and personal space out near the waffle house. Dealing with a lot of children these days." she sighs. "Like that one they got out of the Murray place." she shakes her head. "And really don't worry about the grumpiness. It's going around." she smiles. "Yoga is a good relaxer. I can't do it much given my eye." she muses. "Don't feel silly. Doing something means you're at least working on things." she admits. "Anything...going on with you lately?" she asks him.

"I am not finding it relaxing. Frustrating. Why do I want to look like a downward facing dog, anyway?" Alexander glares more at the phone, then sighs, tries to scrub sand out of his hair. With his sandy hand. His life is suffering. He considers her. "You ended up a psychologist?" A couple of blinks. "For children? Well. The town could use it." To her last question, he makes a noise. After a moment or two, it might be recognized as a strangled sort of laugh. "Yeah. Things are changing. Here. Lot of new people, ones who stand out. A lot of...different things. People getting lost. Like the Murray House, actually." He stares at her. "Have you noticed?"

"Maybe try other poses if that one is frustrating you. Generally I don't stick my butt up in the air in public just due to the number of weirdos we've got around here, you know?" Minerva smiles at that. Then she settles down in the sand Indian style. "Yeah. I had two specialties, Child Psychology and Parapsych. Figured it would help with when kids started having issues and their parents needed to take them somewhere." she tells him. "Mmm. Yeah. I met one of the new arrivals that's a stand out. I think my dad wants him to stick around." she blushes at that. Then she looks to him, "Yeah, I heard about the Murray place. I'm treating the little girl that was involved." she frowns. "I had my own incident with it when I was little." she shakes her head. "Need to find a way to beat it." she looks to him.

"They all make me feel stupid," Alexander mutters. He folds himself into a half-lotus when she sits down, turning to face her. "I'm not particularly worried about anyone being after my ass, though." It's very dry. He studies her, a sudden spark of humor. "Your /father/ wants him to stick around? Or is it you?" A moment of light-heartedness before child-eating houses are brought up. He doesn't look skeptical - of course - but he does ask, "What happened?"

"Then maybe yoga is not for you. If it causes you more stress than relief...time to ditch it." Minerva tells him. "I was kidding about your ass. I'm not after it." she chuckles. "My father and I both wouldn't mind if he stuck around. Okay?" she flicks a bit of sand at his leg with a laugh. "He's a bit grumpy from the looks of it. But I like him. Just hope I don't scare him away with my painful awkwardness sometimes." she sighs. Then we he asks her about the Murray House there's a bit of a breath taken, "When I was six my brother and his friends went into that house. And for some reason I could feel it wasn't right. I'd heard voices since I was four or five. Just so much noise..." she trails off. "Something happened. The boys were being stupid, locked me in the basement. We didn't know that it was with one of the ghosts that live there." she shakes her head. "I handled the voices all talking for as long as I could, I didn't know how to get them to stop." she admits. "So one night, as my family sat down for dinner about two years after the incident, I picked up my butter knife and stabbed my eye out." she tells him quietly.

"I didn't think you were," Alexander assures her, still very dry. He looks down at the phone. "No, I'm not going to give up on it until I experiment thoroughly. I just don't." He grimaces, shakes his head. "Never mind." His attention turns back to her. He listens without shock or horror or sympathy. Or really, any emotion at all, except interest. "I see. I'm sorry. That's a difficult thing for a child." A thoughtful pause. "I can see why you'd have a grudge against the house. You should talk to my housemate, Isolde, and Easton." He waves back down the beach. "He has the bar down on the other end of the beach. They went in. I believe they have plans, for dealing with it."

Minerva gives him a soft smile, "See, psychiatrists don't always give the best advice." she tells him. Then she waves her hand at him, long pale fingers wiggling for a minute, "Don't be sorry. Nothing that happened was your fault or anyone elses really." she states. "I have a...want to cleanse the house. There was another that went missing like the little Walton girl did. I was going to go talk to him, see if he has felt anything." she explains. "And I'd love to meet new people. Do you know what they are going to try to do?" she asks him.

"Don't tell me that," Alexander says. "I'm trying to have a little faith." The rest is given a shrug. "It doesn't have to be my fault to regret that you were in that position. As for the rest...I don't know the details of their plan, just that they're not happy with the house, and would like to do something about it. If you can provide more context to them about the house and its dangers, perhaps their plan has a higher chance of success." He smiles, faintly. "And maybe you can get your closure, too."

Minerva gives a nod to him, "That's fair." she tells him. "Having faith is good." she adds. Then she's chuckling, "No one is happy with the house. Unless you are one of those guys." she frowns. "But, I will speak with them. Or say you pointed me to them. I can give them more information on the House." she admits. "If they would like the history. I keep it." she nods as she draws some symbols in the sand.

"I'm sure they would. I'd be interested, myself," Alexander admits, shifting in his seat. For all he complains about yoga, this posture is one he sits in naturally. "I've always found those places where the bad things bleed through in a predictable way to be...intriguing. Why does it happen? How can you stop it?" He shakes his head. "Is it even possible to stop it. Or does it just shift position maybe, when you take one thing away from it?" He stretches idly as he talks, one arm over his head, then the next.

"Maybe I should run a meeting or something." Minerva murmurs to that curiously. "I'm sure that there are others." she tells him. "I can bring baked goods from my parents. I'm guessing people might like that." she grins. "It might not be able to be stopped, but, we'll try things. It's going to be a group effort I believe." she tells him. "I've got pictures and things. I could bring them." she smiles.

"I believe there were. I don't know how many. Actually," Alexander leans forward to grab the phone. "Give me your number, and I'll text them so that they can contact you if they wish. I'm sure they will. But I'd rather not get yelled at. They're friends." Something soft and wistful there, for a moment, before his expression takes its customary blankness. "And everyone loves a proper multimedia presentation. With food." His eyebrows go up.

Minerva pulls out her wallet and hands Alexander a card, "The cell is on all the time, so just have them say Alexander sent them." she smiles to that. "It's good to have friends." she nods to that. Then there's an amused chuckle, "I'll make sure to bring things then depending on where it happens." she nods to him. "It's getting late. Probably good to start heading back you think?" she asks him.

"If it's dark, then no one will see me pretending to be a cobra. I approve of this." Alexander pauses to fire off a couple of texts, before sticking his phone back into the sand, and giving her a look. "It was good to see you. I'm glad that you're doing well, Doctor Komisar. I truly am. And I look forward to the baked goods and pictures of murders or ghosts." He seems very serious about that.

"Just don't pretend to be a cobra chicken." Minerva giggles at that as she stands up. "It was good to see you and to catch up. I've got an appointment in the morning so need to scoot. If you need anything, just give me a call." she dips her head to him. "And I'll bring those to the meeting, promise." she tells him with a chuckle as she heads off into the dark down the beach.

"Cobra. Chicken. Is that a pose?" He frowns at the phone, and then at her giggle, Alexander makes a grunt. "Not serious. Take care." He watches her leave, frowning, before he tries to put himself back into downward-facing dog with the grim determination of a convict digging a tunnel under the prison wall.