2019-08-14 - Commiseration

Dr. Minerva Kosimar, with her milk-pale skin, dark hair and unique aesthetics, was not a hard woman to track down in the end.

Isabella Reede is no detective, private or otherwise, but research in the end is an investigative discipline and one that she has cultivated over her years in Academia, and like any professional, once she has identified the woman she remembers so clearly in that strange, waking, violent dream in Two if By Sea, she makes it a point to make an appointment to see her by leaving a message at her office, and patiently waits for whatever receptionist she has working for her to confirm it.

She arrives promptly at the appointed hour, ever punctual and dressed in the typical fashion of any graduate student anywhere; jeans, a fashionable sleeveless top in deference to the pervasive Summer's heat, but kept modest in the end by a light blazer dyed a dove-gray. Humid rain leaves stray drops in her hair, her boots entering the office's waiting area in a quick clip. She takes a seat, until she is called in.

When she does, green-gold eyes sweep through the office, falling on Minerva; a certain tension strings across her shoulders like wire, but in the end, ultimately, not caused by the woman herself but rather the memories she invokes. Shot multiple times in the chest, a major surgery and a fitful recovery afterwards, she ought to be exhibiting more signs of post-traumatic stress, but the young woman carries her internal wounds with the same sort of determined, bullish tenacity she ascribes to everything else. Her strides take her close to Minerva, extending a hand.

"Doctor Kosimar," she greets. "Thank you for letting me see you. I apologize if this is a little unorthodox, but it can't be helped."

Kosimar was closed due to the Doctor being out for Medical Reasons. But when your main residence is upstairs, it’s not like she’s far from things. And boy, does Minerva look like it’s a needed sabbatical from work.

The woman isn’t wearing an eye patch today, probably because she ripped it off a few days ago. There’s scratches on her face and she’s bandaged up still. The door is opened and Isabella is let in, “It’s alright, Miss Reede. I’m on a break anyways.” she tells her quietly. “And no need to call me Doctor. Minerva is fine. Please come in and have a seat, can I get you a drink of some kind?” she asks her.

"Please don't fuss, I..." Isabella's expression softens, those intense, scrutinizing eyes catching her obvious signs of injuries immediately, the bandages upon her. "How are you feeling, Minerva? Isabella, too, then, please." A slight, wry smile, though it does nothing to banish the concern and the tightness in the corners of her eyes. Assuming that her present state has been caused by the violent altercation with Billy Gohl and Sheriff Addington, something else coils within them; it feels, and tastes, like fiery, unadulterated rage.

"It's fitting, I think, now that we've survived a firefight together. My father would say the same, anyway. He was in the Navy."

She moves further into the room and takes a seat on the couch. "I saw you fell him," she tells the doctor, her expression serious. "William Gohl. Before I succumbed to my injuries, I saw you standing over him. I was hoping he might've said something to you. What happened in the bar is...my personal interest in it is very high and I was hoping I could at the very least implore for your help in understanding why the things in the city are happening. Though I would understand if you need more time, or if you wish not to be involved any further."

“I don’t mind grabbing you a drink of some kind. It’s just good manners.” Minerva tells her with a chuckle. “And we’ve had another fucked up situation happen since Billy, but it’s nothing to worry about. Just avoid the Carousel over in the park unless you want a really fucked up experience.” she frowns to that as she finds her seat.

She watches her for a moment and then she shakes her head, “I believe that Billy was..and please don’t take this as I have a dog in this fight...” she starts to tell her. “But I think in part he might have been set up by Sheriff Addington. It would explain the extreme rage of the man. And what he was shouting before they got him.” she frowns. “Which adds a layer of fucked to the situation.” she adds.

“But this is what he said. It’s much easier to show.” Minerva admits as she raises a hand towards the wall and the scene of Minerva listening to Billy plays like it’s a movie screen:

"FUCK THE ADDINGTONS!" Billy spits out that proclamation along with a little mouthful of faintly pinkish saliva, just tinged with blood. He's had a rough day. "Do you know who they are? Do you know WHAT THEY DO?!" He's ramping himself up for a full-fledged tirade, his pale face turning beet red. "Killer! Killer, he calls me! You know who the KILLER is, Addington! We all know!"

The deputy knocks him right in the face with the butt of his rifle. "Billy the fucking ghoul. Move it," he tells Minerva, already grabbing the unconscious Billy by the ankles so he can clap 'em in cuffs.

Just avoid the carousel.

Isabella blinks at Minerva. "You were there also?" she wonders. "I know a few people who were involved in the incident. Worms, yes? It has to be the same one. That the group was somehow lured into riding the horses and then..." She gestures vaguely. "My twin brother used to tell me that Summers are the safest in the city, but it didn't feel that way this year." Her lips press together in a quiet line. "Since I arrived there's just this...I feel restless, uneasy. As if something's coming, and we can't stop it."

She falls quiet at that, and then eases back on her seat when Minerva explains her encounter with the Ghoul, and the information that she imparts is a startling one. "A set up?" she murmurs. "What do you mean?"

Illusions, especially those played from memory, are something she's relatively familiar with; a childhood spent with a talented savant, it was one of the first things she was able to learn - but Minerva's level and expertise is something else entirely; beyond, in the end, what she could do when the images can actually move. She had suspected that the woman was one of them, that she had the Talent, but she had no idea she was so...

The words tighten the hinge of her jaw.

"All my research and the information some associates have gathered have all pointed to the possibility that the Baxters and the Addingtons have long since fostered some manner of feud," she confides in Minerva softly. "I see even in the Ghoul's time, it hasn't changed. Was he able to tell you anything else?"

“Yeah, I was at the Carousel. Went to have a few minutes of peace, end up with wiggling things instead, left with having killed most of the doppelgangers...It’s...yeah.” Minerva shakes her head. “So just been sitting home catching up on back paperwork.” she admits. “And no, nothing seems safe this year. We’re generally have a lot of room to breathe, but things keep going sideways.” she frowns.

She watches as the illusion plays and when it’s down it filters out much like an old VHS that’s ended. “Set up as in he’s the fall guy. A sacrificial lamb. Or he might have helped. I don’t know much about the situation sadly.” she admits as she leans back in her chair.

“He told me "We all kill people, honey... bunch... Some of us're just more honest about it than others." she admits. “But that’s all we spoke. Dream things are weird when it’s a memory repeating sometimes.” she frowns. “I’m guessing that there is more to the situation, but I’m not sure where to start with it. Especially with the Addington deaths being so fresh. I don’t think upsetting the family is a good idea, but something is off about things.” she admits.

"That's about right for this town," Isabella murmurs; the words contain within them a bitter edge, that hint of her earlier tempestuousness bleeding out in her low contralto. There's a quiet inhale, followed by the closing of her eyes.

"You're very practiced," she observes quietly, especially when the psychologist informs her that dopplegangers were involved and that she killed most of them. "Admittedly, I don't know much about the Talent. When we were growing up, it was my twin brother who was the savant. He could do the seemingly impossible, even when we were young. Though...I didn't know that copies were involved - so things that looked like you but....worms?" She furrows her brows, trying to picture it. "It sounds harrowing, and more than just a little bit gross."

She glances at the illusion, how it moves and plays like an old film, and can't help both the apprehension and envy she feels upon witnessing it, at how skillfully it was created. "I could only produce still images. They're vivid, snapshots frozen in time, but they don't move."

I'm guessing there is more to the situation.

"It sounds like it," she tells her quietly. "So you can determine whether the Dream is just a repeating memory? I suspected it was, but it's...been a very long time since I've been pulled through a door while awake and in full control of my mental faculties. All I know about the Ghoul's fate after his arrest, if it did indeed happen, was that he ended up in a sanitorium for people like you and me. In the other place."

Minerva gives a bit of a sad smile, “I’ve been able to use our Talents since I was little. I ended up gouging my eye out with a butter knife one night over dinner as the voices wouldn’t shut up.” she admits. Then there’s a shake of her head, “Who was your brother?” she asks her. “If it’s alright to ask? I know some people are particular about what others know.” she points out.

“And the situation with the carousel was a gory one. I don’t know what the worms are capable of beside doppelganger tendencies and biting hard. But if they get a piece of you or knock you down they seem to be able to take on your face. Which is disconcerting to most.” she frowns deeply. “Alexander was hurt badly. So was August and...I think the girls name is Kelsey. We also had a few faces I’d not seen before.” she tells her.

Then she remembers another face, “And Byron was there. I think it’s a small enough town that you probably know him as well.” she points out. “And Summer is almost over, so Gods only know how Autumn will be.” she sighs. "As for Billy, do we know where the sanitarium is located? We might be able to glean information from there." she states.

The sudden confidence has Isabella blinking once; she has been attempting not to look at the missing eye too much, keeping her stare upon the woman direct, but it is also difficult to wonder what happened to it. With the answer revealed, her teeth clip on her bottom lip, feeling color rush into the full lower curve at the gesture. Back in her childhood years, the Talent has always been something magical - a secret that she and her brother shared until Byron ingratiated himself into their tight-knit circle of two. Minerva's story only outlines the terrible truth that had taken her years to learn; that nightmares lurked under the wonder and shine.

"I was the same," she tells her, linking her fingers together, feeling them tighten. "But I stopped using when I moved away."

Who was your brother?

But she also asks if it's alright; normally, questions regarding her twin brother would be verboten, something that shuts her down utterly while she reaches deep within herself to attempt to reach the space they once shared, only to embrace the nothingness that has replaced his vanished presence. The smile she flashes Minerva is melancholy and far away. "Isidore Reede," she says, unconsciously reaching up to curl her fingers on the moonstone pendant she wears. "He vanished when we were sixteen." To other townies, that is common knowledge. There is a gravestone in the cemetery, marking his place among the dead and damned of Gray Harbor, but there are no bones resting underneath the fertile earth. After a long moment of silence, she ventures: "May I ask how you escaped the voices? Do you still hear them?"

She pauses. "I ask because I don't. Not typically, but the night of my mother's murder, I heard someone speak to me. A woman. But I asked another with what looks like similar Talents to yours and he told me that he doesn't usually unless he makes a concentrated effort to, but I was asleep when it happened. It woke me."

Mention of Alexander being hurt badly has her glancing to the side. "He's the sort who'd get his arm or leg severed and still walk around with it gushing while claiming that he's fine," she remarks, visibly exasperated - though something else, presently undefined, underscores her tone within the words. "Byron Thorne and I grew up together. He was friends with me and my twin."

As for the sanitarium, her fingers twine further into the white gold chain around her neck. "I'm not certain where it is," she replies. "I have a friend, Dr. Vivian Glass, who accidentally walked into the office of one of its overseers. Another incident much like the one we experienced together. A waking dream that seems to touch on a different time."

Minerva gives a look to her and there’s a soft nod, “I didn’t put two and two together. I remember the story of Isidore, but...I left for college right after he went missing.” she tells her quietly. “Things happen in such weird ways here.” she adds.

“I have bad days when I can’t drown them out. Then there are days like today where they are silent. I’m not sure what it is that stops them, but they’ve not been the constant nattering like in my childhood.” she chuckles. “They lessened when I was away, but they didn’t like that I left either.” she shakes her head.

“They might reach out to us when we need them, or when something is about to happen. It’s something I’ve not studied much, maybe a concentrated effort to do so would be good for those of us that have similar talents.” she admits.

Then there’s a bit of a chuckle at Alexander, “He is definitely a special individual. I’m glad that he’s been getting taken care of.” she admits. Then she listens to the talk of Vivian, “Hmm. Wonder if we could find it in the Veil.” she ponders.

"It's always been strange," Isabella tells Minerva quietly. "From my earliest years, here. It never stopped, though at one point it became less beautiful and more dangerous."

She listens carefully to what the psychologist imparts to her about her own experiences with the voices in her head, though something visibly twists in her expression when the psychologist confesses that her voices didn't like that she had left. It strikes too close to home and while part of her is relieved to find, at least, someone else with similar experiences, she can't help but feel discomfited by it either. "This city can't let go of its children," she murmurs.

That, though, is a possibility that she has not considered - that the voices could be benign. A thoughtful look falls on the archaeologist's features at that. "I never thought of it that way before. Maybe it is worth considering, if we can find some way to tap onto that. But ever since that night, I haven't heard anything. Since you've been receiving since you were a child, maybe you'd be a more likely candidate than I ever would be."

Said special individual's mention causes that exasperation-and-something-else look on her face to grow. "Well, if he asked, he'd find no shortage of people who would try, I'm certain. But he isn't the sort to let himself either unless he absolutely and desperately needs it," she remarks. "As for venturing in the Veil, I..." She pauses. "Honestly, I wouldn't take any trips there lightly. There are beautiful things in there. Strange things. But also..."

Her voice grows absent. "It can take from you before you realize what's happening."

After a moment of examining Minerva and her bandages, she lifts her hand. "I know you don't know me very well, but...would you like me to see if I could speed things along with your injuries? I have some skill, but I've not...tried. In years. You were so kind to see me despite your own troubles, I thought it would be the least I could do to offer."

“This has been the only home I’ve known, I find it hard to leave, but I tried once. I was going to move to Boston with my fiance. He was looking for houses while he was on business there. Then he died.” Minerva admits. “So I’ve just stayed here. I didn’t know if the Dark Men were involved with his demise, but it felt...off.” she frowns.

“And no, it seems if you are born here and have our talents that it’s less than thrilled to let us go. Figured I’d stay and help with the kids that are growing up now. We didn’t have anyone that could understand growing up. So I want to make sure it’s provided now. Maybe it’ll help in the end.” she smiles a bit at that.

“Mister Clayton has always been a very closed off person and I can understand why, if he’s had experiences like others. He does seem to get the short end of the stick a lot.” she frowns. “But, he is a special one.” she chuckles. “And no, I’d not go poking about willy nilly. Probably armed and armored.” she nods to that.

Then there’s a look to her and she offers her a soft smile, “I’m going to be healed up in a few days and I’ve been taking a break from doing heavy stuff. I absolutely appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. It reminds me to not go charging in when we have so many others.” she tells her. “Is there anything else that I can do or help you with, Isabella?” she asks her.

I didn't know if the Dark Men were involved with his demise...

The fingers playing over her moonstone pendant stop abruptly; Isabella's eyes fall on Minerva, but she doesn't speak - for a few, breathless seconds, it is as if she has been frozen into stone, or transmuted in gold-toned marble. The sensation is familiar, but unwelcome, the wash of icewater flooding down her spine, and the grip of skeletal fingers over what is left of her half-heart, squeezing tightly.

But she recovers quickly - as if Time resumes again, and she drops her moonstone pendant, letting it rest against her blouse. "I'm...my condolences, about your fiance," she tells her quietly, managing to keep her voice level. "I hope that your practice takes off, doctor, because you're right. There are too many children here who could use the help. I think Byron's friend's mother had tried to do the same, for Gray Harbor's disenfranchised youth. But she disappeared also, around the same time as my brother. And I doubt that they are the only ones."

When the offer is declined, she manages a smile. "Alright. I just thought I would ask. Thank you, for letting me come and see you, especially while you're recovering." With that, she starts to rise. "If I find out anything more, I'll definitely let you know." Promise delivered, she turns to the door, but something stops her.

She doesn't look back to the woman, keeping her eyes forward, but her voice is quiet, and sincere. "I left my number in your voicemail. If you need anything you think I might be able to assist you with, I hope you won't hesitate to call. Thank you so much again, for this."

Minerva gives a sad smile to Isabella, “Thank you. He’s buried close, so I take care of his grave for his mother. She’s getting bad knees.” she frowns softly. Then she shakes herself and rises when Isabella does, “Thank you for vote of confidence, I am hoping we’ll have a good footing going forward to help the kids.” she smiles.

She watches her go though, following to lock up, “It was good to meet you, Isabella. I won’t hesitate to reach out and if you need anything or someone that’s a bit of an occultist, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be here.” she tells her quietly.

Once Isabella is out the door she waits a few to watch her leave and then she locks up the downstairs and heads back up to the apartment.