2019-09-18 - Under The Boardwalk

Let's just say, it was one of THOSE nights.

You know the ones. Where it starts off with a friend at a little get together at someone's house. Cameron and a few close friends, toasting and drinking. Someone brought out some pills and then suggested a club. After the club it was a bar, then another bar... then things began to blur. Now here we are, not quite mid-morning, yet the sun is well-risen over the horizon.

The waves crash up against the surf, but won't reach our two heroines for another hour yet, at least. They are both still sleeping. Isolde is stretched out on her back, a jacket piled up under her head for use as a pillow. She's still in the clothes she was in when she met Cameron last night at whatever bar they had run into each other at. Both extremely intoxicated, one on alcohol, the other on a mixture of that and psychedelic narcotics, things had spiralled from there.

Cameron sleeps with her mouth open, a bit of drool forming around Isolde's navel where her head rests on the woman's hip. She's still clinging to one of her sleeping partner's hands as gulls squaw and the murmur of morning people on the boardwalk above them break the peace. It's the sound of a jogger thumping across the boards right above them that finally rouses the sleeping camgirl.

"Mmmmwuh?" The brunette lifts her head slightly, opening her eyes. It takes a moment for things to come into focus, smacking her lips a few times at the taste of the awful cottonmouth she has. A hand wipes away the little string of saliva on her cheek, and then causes her to sputter as it leaves sand across her face. She's still wearing the black tube top and low-riding jeans with the high-cut thong peeking out from the night before. Two-inch heeled boots on her feet, about a billion little bangles and bracelets on her arms, her hair a wild, floppin' mess.

She sits up as Isolde's body comes into focus staring at the prone woman. "Uh... who are you?" What we have here, folks, is a Fear and Loathing situation. Cameron reaches for her phone, noting she has SEVENTEEN missed calls and fifteen messages. "Fuck."

Isolde had been having...a night last night. Even when things were going so,so good (ish) something always had to go and ruin it. Yesterday, she had gotten brave. She had gathered up the courage to try and call her family home, where - according to the information she found - her parents still resided. She was so proud of herself because she had a whole plan concocted. Posing as a census volunteer to hint around and confirm.

What the redhead had learned was that yes- this was the residence of Evan and Rochelle Morrison, Rochelle speaking. And yes, she was happy to answer a couple questions. How many kids did they have? 2. Twins in fact. Leila and Walter. No other children? Nope, no others.

The phonecall had been abruptly cut short by Isolde hanging up the phone and, in fact, throwing it rather violently against the wall of Alexander's office. It, uh, didn't work anymore. She had left a note for Alexander that she was 'going out. Don't wait up. Phone is broken.' and the broken phone laid next to the note. And then she went out to drown her sorrows and confusion in liquor as The Pourhouse. This is where she'd met Cameron and things started getting...fuzzy.

There were shots. Lots of shots. And dancing. Though Isolde didn't have an ounce of rhythm to her. And now her head was throbbing, the joggers footsteps sounded like insane drum beats . And there was a woman half laying on her. Clear blue eyes groggily lifting and focusing on the woman. Her own attire is simple. A black tank top that's partially pushed up at the moment and a pair of blue jeans. She's mostly leg, this one. "Needing coffee." Isolde groaned to the 'who are you' question, rubbing at her forehead.

Cameron slowly reaches up to rub her temple, trying her best to place where or when she met this woman. But last night is a blur of kinesthetic sensations, noises, and extremely fuzzy visuals. She mostly remembers sounds, physical contact, and a whole range of emotions. Looking down at Isolde, her brown eyes take in the fact that the other woman is mostly wearing clothes, that she herself is still dressed, and so they proooooobably hadn't... Y'know. Probably.

Her phone is showing her missing about a billion text messages.

"Why are you wearing my bracelet?" The brunette points at the thing on Isolde's wrist, a stretchy thing of dark-green stones slipped around her wrist. Cameron herself is wearing so many bacelets of varying shapes and sizes that it's amazing she can tell one went missing. Only a single earring dangles from the right side of her head. The other is gone as she reaches up to feel for it. She glances around, but doesn't spot it. "Shit."

With a sigh, Cameron rolls onto her butt and stretches her legs out in front of her, tapping on the Siri button to open her screen. Before even getting into the phone, her head swans backwards and she gives a jerk of surprise, eyes opening up a bit more. Then she leans in closer to the screen, hunching down and scrunching up her brow at it. That gaze turns towards the woman still on her back.

The Wiccan rolls back onto her hip, one hand in the sand, pointing the screen of the phone towards the stranger. Her wallpaper is of the two of them, cheeks smashed together, both making ridiculous faces while sticking out their tongues so the tips join together. "At least I can see that we hit it off. Yes. Coffee. Lots of coffee." But before she gets up, the brunette opens up her phone's menu, thumbing into the photo gallery. "Oh dear God."

"I'm not-" Isolde starts to protest but then opens her eyes and stares at the bracelet on her wrist. "I dunno. It's pretty." She murmured, sliding the bracelet off carefully and handing it over to the woman as she pulled her shirt down some and started to try and sit up. Shit. Guess she did end up sleeping under the Boardwalk after all. Alexander was going to be upset with her maybe. Probably. But then again, he did know her phone was broken. So whatever.

She'd deal with it later. When her head didn't feel like it was about to explode into a thousand tiny pieces. Then Cameron is showing her the picture on her phone and she laughs. And laughing hurts. "Guess so..." Dear lord it was like she was in college all over again. She offers a hand. "Izzy." Once hands are shaken, or not, Isolde pulls herself to her feet. The jacket stays on the ground because it isn't even hers. Someone in Gray Harbor is missing their jacket today. Sorry person.

"Coffee is...close. I think. Lots of coffee." Is agreed as she takes hold of the woman's hand again and starts leading her out from under the Boardwalk.

The dark-haired young woman reaches a hand out to start to take the bracelet, but hovers an inch or two from doing so. Something flashes across her expression that might be guilt, and she pulls her hand back without the piece of jewelry, leaving it in Isolde's grip.

"Ah, just keep it. Pretty sure I gave it to you with..." She gestures at her phone. "...all this going on."

Madison is probably going to be pissed at her for ditching her and the rest of the band. She can't even remember when they parted last night. She's not really looking forward to listening to fifteen increasingly-erratic and agitated phone messages.

Cameron takes the hand in her own, her grip utterly limp, her palms baby-soft. The shake is barely a shake, more just a light squeeze. "Cameron. Or just Cam." When Isolde gets to her feet, she stands as well, growning as her now-six-foot-with-the-boots-on body bends backward in a serpentine way to stretch. She's still looking at her phone.

"Coffee." She repeats. "Coffee is good. And green tea. My mouth feels like I was chewing on mattress stuffing." Who knows, she might have been!

She doesn't even seem to notice when her hand is taken, her fingers wrapping around the other woman's, following in her footsteps. "Do you remember any of...?" And she points her phone at Isolde again as they walk, this time a photo of the pair of them riding, and vandalizing, one of those little riding horse machines outside of a mini-mart that cost a quarter. She flicks to another with her thumb. "Or this?" It's the two of them lifting their shirts to flash cars out on some highway.

Isolde sort of stared at the bracelet still in her hand and then smiled a little. "Thanks." Pushing it back on. She glanced over at the pictures, wincing. Acting like she was 20 again. "It's alll...pretty hazy." Isolde admits as she leads them up and around and realizes she doesn't have shoes on. She vaguely remembers being in sandals.

Damnit. Those were nice sandals too. She'll have to go to the thrift store soon to get new ones. "We uh, should...delet the evidence..." Because Jesus Christ she doesnt' want these pictures getting around. Especially when she's trying to find and actual job and stuff. Though, there's a touch of a smile. "Seems fun though. "In the light of the day there's a bit of an odd quality to the red head. A little bit more childlike than the 35-years that she is.

Finally - they reach coffee! Isolde pulls the door open to let Cameron in first. Then sits down heavily in a booth. "All the pots of coffee!" She calls to the waitress behind the counter. "...Two pots of coffee!"

"Wait, what about your jacket?" Cameron gestures over her shoulder with the phone at the abandoned article of clothing. Perhaps someday it would find its way back to its owner. More than likely it will just get washed out to sea to become another form of pollution. If it's really lucky, a drifter will happen by and take a liking to it before that happens.

"What, delete? No way, it's the only evidence we have to figure out just how much shit we might be in. I can't believe we weren't arrested for that one... Is that a stop sign we're putting in the trunk of someone's car? Oh dear God, I'm a felon now."

As the door is held open for her, the brunette looks from her communications device with as much of a smile as she can muster. "Quite a gentleman." She steps inwards and slides into the booth opposite of Isolde. One skinny leg is folded over the other, one of her hands stuck in between her now-stacked thighs as she finally gets tired of looking at the evidence and puts the phone down.

"Some green tea, please? If you have it?" Her request is much softer than the other woman's. Hopefully it was heard. Brown eyes stare at the older woman as she chews on the end of a thumb, hunched over and forward.

"Okay," She says at last. "So, Izzy. I was soooooo high last night, and I'm sorry for anything I did. Or said. But, um... wow. I don't usually get like that. Must have been some..." Her eyelids flutter. "Really wicked shrooms. I remember being at a club, and a bar. Did we dance? I was dancing. I feel gross. Like I was sweating, we must have gone dancing. And apparently painted the town red. Were... you high? At that club, um... Firefly? Is that the place?"

No need to worry about Isolde being a felon there. She already is one! Technically. Technically. The waitress looks a cross between sympathetic and 'these people are bums' because they're both clearly hung over on a Wednesday morning. However, she gives a 'comin' right up' and gets to work. There's very few, if any people here so early in the A.M.

Isolde tries to think. "No..no. Firefly is a bad thing. I don't go there." Drumming her fingers on the table. "Pourhouse. I was there. We maybe danced there? I am. Not good at. Dancing." But she would anyway because dancing it fun!

The waitress came by and set two pots of coffee, a prepared mug of green tea, a pot of hot water and a handful of green tea packets. "You girls want anything to eat?"

Isolde cringes at the idea of food. "no thank you." She shakes her head and refocuses on Cameron. "Not high though. No more drugs for me. Just...lots. Lots of alcohol." Blinking a bit. "...What else is on the phone?"

"Is it? I've always had a good time there. You piss off the staff or something?" Probably not the most tactful way to come out and ask that kind of question, but Cameron feels her pulse behind her eyelids and her mouth is so dry her tongue might fall off. Neither of them are likely in much of a mood for politeness or beating around the bushes.

"Yeah, I just kind of... move around with the music. Never put much thought into it." There's a certainly level of pretty where as long as one doesn't do anything too spastic, they can make it look attractive. Cameron is just at that level. "I remember we went out celebrating because I got a job." A beat, then a smirk. "As a dancer."

As the waitress sweeps by, setting their order down, the brunette does her best weary smile at the woman, immediately reaching for the mug of tea and blowing on it, thick lips puckered. She takes a sip to test it's heat level, before taking a longer drink. Her head shakes as she blows at the mention of food.

"I should probably quit, too, but... you know." She likes drugs. Recreationally. Probably already low-level addicted. At the mention of the phone, Cameron unlocks it with a few taps on the screen, before spinning it around and pushing it towards Isolde to explore the mounting list of evidence. "As far as I can tell, at one point we had a couple people with us to take pictures. Then we lost them. I count seven misdemeanors and a felony. I haven't looked through them all, but I don't think we, um..." She gestures at herself, then the woman across from her, then back again. "...Did we?" She shakes her head. "I don't think we did." Then tilts it to the side, narrowing her eyes speculatively. "...Did we?"

Shaking off the thought of Did They or Didn't They, Cameron sucks down another mouthful of tea, leaning forward. "I think I know what attracted us in the first place, though. Your," she gestures, waving a hand, palm out, all in front of Isolde. "Aura is crazy. Are... This might sound a little crazy? Are you a witch? Like... are you?"

"You know...I don't know." Isolde blinked a bit. "I've never been there. My friend Alexander. He said it's a bad place and I trust him." And she knew full well that places could be bad. She pours out some coffee and dumps like 6 packets of sugar into it with 4 little things of cream. "Ohhh a dancing job? That sounds like fun." Isolde seems to mean it!

She takes a slow sip of the coffee and exhales. "They can be good. I still want them sometimes." Isolde confides in the pretty lady across from her. "But...it's for the better." Then her gaze lowers back to the phone. Ugh. Yeah. She doesn't need a longer rap sheet okay. Especially not here.

The wild-haired redhead waggles her eyebrows at Cameron and then she giggled. "I don't think. Well, we mighta. Kissed at least." She shrugged and then grinned again. "A witch...I dunno. I don't think so? I don't do spells and stuff..." Gaze going inquisitive. "...Do you do magic?!"

"Nothing glamorous." Cameron is quick to downplay the 'excitement' of her new job. "Exotic dancing at the Platinum Cabaret? Heard whether that one's a good or a bad place? I don't know this Alexander, but I'll take all the warnings I can in this hinky town. Anyway, I'm just starting a few nights a week. I do camgirl work, too, but that's kind of slow to pick up and... Momma gotta pay rent now, you know?"

The brunette lifts a slender shoulder in a half shrug, downing her mug of tea before reaching for one of the coffee pots. Carefully, so as not to burn herself, she tilts it into the cup in front of her. "I hear you. I'm not trying to push. I guess they just... help me forget. Help me keep things balanced right now. I only take what grows naturally. Things cut with chemicals or preservatives, mm." She shakes her head.

At the news they might have kissed, all the Wiccan has to do is look at the wallpaper on her phones. She doesn't just touch tongues with anyone! "At the least." She confirms, before working her jaw and moving her tongue around. Maybe she's trying to see if she can taste something. "If we did, well... nice to meet ya. Again. We would have probably been naked, though, right?" Unless it happened elsewhere. ARGH! Not remembering is bullshit! "Y'know, it doesn't matter. We're grown women."

Giving herself a little nod, a little pep-nod, like she's saying 'Yeah, fuck yeah. Good point, Cameron. You're a grown as woman!', the witch kind of flicks her eyes away and back a few times from Isolde, as if unsure of how to answer, her body leaning right, her head leaning left. "Um... Kind of. Yeah. You just... give off this sense. Like maybe you can do it, too. It's okay if you think I'm crazy, I just. Get this aura from you. Like maybe you have that ability?"

"Platinum Cabaret. Haven't been there yet. So I dunno!" If it was a good or bad place. Isolde leaned on the table, studying her breakfast partner. "You should go to the Lavender Farm soon. Before the seasons over. It's a pretty place. A good place to get centered." Isolde nodded matter of factly. Another little giggle. "Well, we might hafta kiss again some time to figure out if it jogs memories." It was hard to tell if she was flirting or being totally serious. Maybe a bit of both?

"Exactly! Grown women. We can do what we want!" Isolde took another deep drink of her coffee. She's pretty sure they didn't do anything serious though. Well, sexually serious. A felony is pretty serious.

Isolde's eyes widened then. "Oh! You mean like this." Isolde seemed to concentrate for a long moment on Cameron. And then Cameron would feel a gentle caressing against her mind. Then words. <<Hello there.>> Then the caressing touch was retreating. "That isn't magic. That's uh. Hm. Side Effects. Of other things." She relaxed against the table again. Magic was like Harry Potter. Spells, wands. Flying on broomsticks! At least to Izzy.

Cameron laughs, elbow on the table, looking away and down as she raises her thumb up to her lips and nibbles on the edge of it at the flirt. Or threat. It's unclear which it was. "Maybe after we brush our teeth, you mean?" The brunette throws a smile, before once more pursing her lips to blow a gentle, prolonged breeze across the top of the steaming beverage.

Felonious seriousness aside, those brown eyes narrow as the skinny Wiccan struggles to recall the events. She gets a few flashes, but they're disjointed, distorted, with no sense of time attached to them. Mostly just kinesthetic senses and emotions with vague pictures attached. Dancing, partying, laughing, music, vandalism, screaming, heavy breathing, murmuring... it all runs together. They might as well have existed inside of a trippy music video last night.

Cameron shakes herself out of her reverie just as Isolde widens her eyes. The brunette's head perks up, straightening her shoulders a bit from their usual caved-in stance and sitting upright just a bit straighter. She isn't quite sure why the woman is staring at her all of a sudden, but it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

There's suddenly just... words in her head. She doesn't HEAR them, but they're there. Felt. Detected without being heard, and with Isolde's... not voice. Aura? Signature? Attached to them. Cameron is suddenly looking around as if for hidden microphones.

"Wait. What the-" She mouths the last word: 'Fuck!' Leaning forward, the Wiccan gets downright conspiratorial, lowering her voice like there might be a G-Man at the next table over eavesdropping on them. "How did you do that? I can do... stuff. Heal, mostly. Make... plants bloom. That is totally magic! Do you have a Book of Shadows?" A beat. "Do you know what a Book of Shadows is?"

"Okay. Okay." She's tapping a finger against the table rapidly, repeatedly. "Then how'd you do it!? You mean like ley lines?"

Isolde's mental voice is strong, more mature sounding than her vocal one. It actually matches her age. "It is...natural. It just kind of happened one day." Isolde keeps her voice low as well. "And now, I can do things. It has been getting stronger. I can't...do any of that. Healing. Making things grow." She tapped her head lightly. "I can only do this stuff. Talk to people. Feel people. Emotions."

She shakes her head again. "No Book of Shadows. No newt eyes. It's just...is." Isolde thinks for a long minute. "...What is a ley line? No no there are...things. It's hard to explain but." She wiggled her fingers. "You try it. Just. Uh...think something at me. Or think of a picture or something at me." Isolde looked intensely curious to see how this would go.

"You're like a fucking X-Man! I need my spellbook and components to do anything." Cameron whispers, eyes wide, excited, and eager. Piercing into Isolde like she wants to grab the woman and shake her until all of her arcane secrets come tumbling out of her head. She doesn't, of course, she just kind of slides the coffee over and out of the way so she can put both elbows on the table, folding her arms on top of each other as she leans on them. Rising up to her knees, she leans yet closer still, like a teenager who can't quite stay in her seat, she's too excited.

Now she's only half a foot from the other woman or so, able to lower her voice even more. So the muggles don't hear.

"A ley line." Cam says, as if it should be obvious, looking at Isolde as if she was just asked what a car was. "It's one of the lines of power that criss-cross over the world and bring magic into it from the Spirits. Where they meet is where magic is the strongest. I think Gray Harbor is one of those places."

She's way off, but hey. Wicca only explains so much!

When told to 'try it', the brunette gets a bit of a dubious look on her face, but nevertheless reaches into her slinky, tight tub-top to pull out a small necklace. It's really just a dark piece of string looped through a polished, white stone ring. She holds the rock in one hand, meeting Isolde's eyes. Then her own drift shut. She concentrates, or so her furrowed brow would seem to indicate.

Nothing happens.

After a moment, she reaches out a hand to touch Isolde's wrist, taking it in her own and gripping it firmly, but not tightly. After a few moments, a flash happens. It arcs between their skin, like static electricity. Startling, but not painful. With it, comes a flash. The barest hint of a feeling. Being up on stage, being nervous. The lights going down, facing the a microphone, a crowd. Sucking in a deep breath, leaning into the mic, about to belt out the first note-

And then it cuts off. Just that one instantaneous flash of sensation and emotion, causing Cameron to jump a little in place. "Wh... Did you do...?"

"Gray Harbor is a very gray place." Isolde murmured. "There are lots of bad things here. Trying to choke out the good things. You should be careful." She knows Cameron isn't entirely off in her assessment. Comparing Gray Harbor to a leyline. It is a very thin place. She watches Cameron trying to concentrate, trying to feel positive for the woman! Like maybe that will help her be able to do what Isolde had done!

She can do it! ...But then she didn't? Well, Isolde knows it can take a few tries. But also, everyone she knows as some kind of Mental ability so she has simply assumed everyone is capable of it to some degree.

Isolde allows Cameron to take her hand, watching and relaxing. Keeping her mind open, even through the headache. She inhales sharply - surprised by the static shock. Then. The feelings come. The nervousness. The stage. The preparation. She is so sucked into that feeling for those few brief seconds. And then it's gone. And then she smiled at Cameron.

"You did."

Cameron blinks once. She maintains staring at Isolde for a few long, silent moments, so close their breaths can mingle. The moment is stunning enough that she doesn't even notice the mixed, day-old beer breath between them. "Whoa." Such a Keanu word. Juvenile. Dumb. Ineloquent. But what else is there? It sums up entirely what she was feeling right there.

Slowly, the willowy young woman swallows, as if afraid to move too much, or look away. She doesn't smile. She just STARES at Isolde from up close. And then she slowwwwwwly turns her head to the side. In the background, their waitress comes into focus, standing right next to the table, looking at them like they're a couple of weirdos. She informs them that this isn't the place to make out and leaves them their check, before moving on.

Cameron laughs, an expulsion of held breath leaving her as she crumples off her knees and back onto her seat, her legs curled up beside her, seated on one hip. An arm bands around her torso, the other in front of her mouth as she silently chuckles to herself.

"Oh my God... I can't believe I did that. I didn't even know I could do that. I didn't even need a spell." She did need to touch the woman, though. And it took a lot of effort.

Cam brings the stone up to her lips, toying with it across the edge of her lower one. "I know there's bad things out there. It's why I'm trying to get stronger. No one seems to care or do anything about it." Maybe she's trying to be a superhero. "I think... I want to learn from you. Is that, like... do you take apprentices? Whatever you need. Whatever it is!" She's rocking herself too and fro slightly in her earnestness. "I can do it. Just show me how to do... more of that."

"I have blackmail photos, so you kind of have to." The Wiccan informs with the sweetest smile imaginable.

Isolde looks to the waitress and giggles. Then refocused on Cameron. She didn't really care about the waitress too much. This was exciting stuff! "Well, uhm. I'm not really...experienced." She said thoughtfully. "But I know people who are! Who might be willing to help." She gave the woman's hand a little squeeze.

"We can learn things together! I will share what I know, and we will see. But, uh. For now." Isolde looks around and grabs the check and then pen left with it. Tears off the blank spot and passes it to Cameron. "Give me your number. My phone is broken. So I need to get a new one." Broken in that fit of rage over the telephone call.

"But you really shouldn't show those photos around..." Her cheeks a little pink. "I'm trying to find work!" And she already has a criminal background thankyouverymuch. "It is exciting though. Scary. But exciting. Maybe...maybe you can teach me some times. With the healing. And the blooming!"

"You're more experienced than me!" Cameron says, a little too loudly. She glances around and lowers her voice, tucking her head forward again as the pendant drops from her lips. "You could introduce me? That'd be so great! I- I can't- I -" She tries to go on for a few moments, her mouth opening again and again and not-quite-words coming out. She stops herself, closes her eyes, and holds up a hand, as if touching an invisible pause button. Inhale. Exhale. Healing breath. "Um, thank you. Is what I'm trying to say."

As the pen and paper are passed over, the brunette smirks. "Asking for my number already. Bold move, Izzy. But I like bold." With a teasing little smile, she plucks up the pen and begins to jot down ten digits, area code first. It's a local area code. Underneath it, in neat little feminine script is the word 'Cameron'. Thankfully, she does not use a heart in place of any of the vowels, so there's that to her credit.

"Oh..." Looking up, sliding the slip of paper across the table with a single finger, the Wiccan picks up her phone and cradles it to her chest. Her smile is small and tight, showing no teeth. The kind of smile one does when one has a secret, as she protects her phone by hugging it and turning her body partially away. "These photos? Weeeeeeeell..." She's enjoying prolonging the pain. Probably a little TOO much. "...maybe I won't. You might have to do some things for me. Here and there. Be my slave. Show me the bad places and the good. Maybe wear a little choker." She holds her hand up to her own neck, as if about to choke herself. "Says 'if lost return to Cameron'. I'll think of some other things."

Putting her diabolical evidence-containing communications device away into a pocket of her jeans, the dark-haired young woman shoots a finger-gun across the table. "You got a deal. I'll help you, you help me."

Well, there Isolde goes blushing again as Cameron describes all that. Yep, college-day flash backs indeed. She accepts the paper back and folds it up. Giving her another smile. "You are welcome Cameron. I dunno...my boyfriend might like that collar thing." It's mostly teasing.. She rummages around her pocket and pulls out some crumpled bills.

Tossing them on the table for the waitress. "Deal. Now. Let's get outta here before she kicks us out for too much PDA." Isolde giggled.