2019-10-09 - Cards on the Table

It's a quiet Wednesday afternoon in the little coffee shop not far from Likely Stories. There are a few patrons here and there in the mid-afternoon quiet. Some are sipping coffee and playing on their phones. Others are reading, or chatting among themselves. Elias comes wandering in and heads up to the counter, giving a familiar smile to one of the baristas. "Hey, can I get a mocha and .. a couple of those lemon sugar cookies?" he asks.

The guy behind the counter nods and says, "Sure, Eli. I'll bring it over."

With that, he turns to take a look at the place, deciding where to sit.

There's not many spots, but a certain tall and well-dressed Brit has camped at a table with extra chairs. He's got a sleek silver Chromebook, a stack of books, and a large mug of coffee with new steam curling off it. Today's suit is a deep, rich teal, though it's hard to tell if it includes his trademark pocket square, as the jacket is neatly folded over the chair beside him. There are the remnants of a sandwich on a nearby plate. He's frowning quite intensely at the monitor.

"Do thine words elude or offend you?" Elias asks as he wanders over to Dante's table and invites himsel to a seat, quite without asking permissio or forgiveness for that matter. Today he is dressed in a dark red turtleneck sweater over his skinny black jeans, and a pair of docs that lace up his calves. He settles into the chair, crossing one leg over the other and letting his elbow drape over the back of the chair.

Dante does the thing people do when they're coming out of their own heads and realize they need to actually speak to another human being. He blinks a few times and then a slightly perplexed look turns into a grin. "Oh, hello. No, I was just puzzling over a few competing dates in my research. I've never been the best with numbers. I'd remark on the coincidence of running into each other so soon after our last meeting, but then I remember how close your shop is."

Elias smiles when Dante seems to come out of his daze, and tilts his head a little to one side as he listens to the dilemma, "I've run into that problem with my own recently as well, well, similar.. the dates being quite wrong for the discovery, at any rate." He waves one hand a little bit and then says, "Well, yes, it is right down the street and I do obtain caffeination here from time to time. I promise I'm not stalking you. You'd know if I were stalking you. I'm not subtle."

Dante tugs his coffee towards him and sips. "Do you write as well?" As for stalking? He grins in that way of his that tends towards the sharkish, "Oh, I wouldn't flatter myself and assume any such thing. I'm sure you have better taste."

Elias seems to consider the question for a moment or two before saying, "I do, yes." He smiles a little bit wryly, "Though I don't write under my own name." He smiles amusedly and says, "You think so?" Then he glances up and smiles a grateful smile at the barista who brings him his coffee and pair of cookies on a little plate. "You are an angel," he says as he wraps his hands around his mug and draws it to his lips.

"That's probably quite wise. I considered a pen name, but ultimately decided against it. Though I can't recall precisely why." Dante shrugs and sips from his coffee. A little foam from the latte hits his lip, which he dabs at with a napkin. Which would seem the more polite option, but it just sort of smears it around. "Dare I ask what sort of thing you write?"

"I like my privacy," Elias admits, tapping his fingertips along the edge of his mug. "But since I've already been outed a bit recently, I'm trying on admitting it for size." He lifts a fingertip and brushes at his own lip, indicating that Dante missed a spot, before he says, "Urban fantasy, myself." He lifts one of the cookies and takes a bite from it, careful to contain the crumbs to the little plate.

It takes Dante a second to get the gesture. His head is still half in the world of whatever he was researching. But he dabs his lip again, this time getting it all. "It's really not so bad. My advice is to choose a jacket photo that isn't that close to the way you normally dress and wear your hair. That way you're less likely to be picked out in a crowd. Though, generally I find readers to be quite nice and polite. But..." he gets a twinkle in his eye. "Are you going to tell me your pen name so I can get jealous of your sales numbers?"

Elias chuckles a little and asks, "So is that the reason for the Steven King treatment?" He then shakes his head, "I like my anonymity too much. I'm not quite ready for jacket photos. I'm at the telling one person I don't know well in a coffee shop stage of this arrangement. I'm not really worried about readers being impolite. I think perhaps it's more that I enjoy that it's just my secret, my thing that I do for me, because I enjoy it." Then he chuckles and says, "Noah Silas."

It takes Dante a moment to place the name, He mouths the word to himself, then presses a finger to his lip. Then he shakes said finger at Elias. "Ah, yes, yes. The books about the mirror world, yes? I haven't read them, but I've certainly seen them. Shelved fairly close to my own titles." He smiles more broadly, looking rather delighted. "Well well."

Elias lifts his cup of coffee and takes another sip while Dante tries to place the name. He nods in confirmation when Dante comes up with the general gist of the series for which he is best known. "Silas and Taylor are indeed in proximity, alphabetically. It does stand to reason," Elias says with a little flicker of amusement on his lips. He shrugs his shoulders then and says, "Which is part of why I was intrigued when I heard you were in town. As you can imagine, I don't talk to many other writers."

"I wouldn't imagine so," says Dante. He leans forward and drops his voice. It's not like anyone is listening, but he seems to enjoy being the guardian of a secret. "You must be very good if your publisher doesn't force you to go on local media and trot you around at signings. Most writers these days don't get the luxury of being a recluse. So much of the marketing falls to us now."

Elias leans in just a little conspiratorially to listen, certainly not needing to but seeming to enjoy the little play at a clandestine exchange. He chuckles, then, and says, "I suppose I can tell you that secret, too. My agent and the rep at the publisher are old family friends. They only published my first book as a favor. That it actually sold was a shock to all involved. After that, they let me be weird, and I kept feeding them material. I suspect my luck will run out eventually."

"Mhmm, but by then you might be making enough money that they'd prefer you keep publishing on your own terms. Because the alternative might be that you don't do it at all." And then Dante grins, eyebrows arching. "And they say that I got published because of an old family name and an Oxford connection. But I didn't have any friends in the horror publishing world. Far too gauche, you see."

"Perhaps. I suppose only time will tell," Elias says, seeming to have come to some sort of peace with that. He sets his mug down and taps his fingertips lightly against the handle of the mug, a kind of restless gesture. "Speaking of old family names, a friend mentioned that you'd done some research in Salem on the witch trials. My family, the Webers, fled that area during that time, and came west. That's how we ended up here."

"Ah, of a sort. Salem is well-trodden territory. I did research the trials for my volume on New England, but not in-depth. For the most part I attempted to find stories that were lesser-known. However," Dante tilts his head. "One can hardly do a book on New England supernatural and true crime stories without mentioning Salem. Is your friend Mister Thorne?"

Elias shakes his head and says, "I believe it was Miss Reede. She's the one that I've been doing some research with. It turns out that we share a common ancestor, and determined that we're cousins. It's been a little bit of a genealogical adventure." He lifts the cup but doesn't take a sip. "So, what stories have you found here in Gray Harbor? Has the strangeness of the town settled into you yet? Or are you so accustomed to strange places that our little corner of the world is little more than quaint?

"Interesting. Mister Thorne queried me about your family awhile back. Unfortunately, I had no information for him." Dante rolls his mug between his hands before taking a thoughtful sip, but rather than speak of witch trials, the conversation turns to the town itself. "Mhmm. What I've found most odd so far is how people in this town approach the supernatural. Most other places I've been, people have been eager to tell their stories or weave a tall tale. Here, people don't like to speak of it and warn me of great danger if I probe too deeply in the wrong direction."

"Interesting," Elias says with a little bit of a laugh of his own. "He's never queried me about my family, which would seem a little bit more of a direct source." He lets his shoulders rise and fall, apprently finding it a little funny, but not surprising. "That's because people here live with it every day as part of their lives, and know the danger of attracting attention to themselves. Not to mention that those who venture away from here will just forget most of it, rationalize it away, anyway. What's the point in telling an outsider who will never really remember it once they head home?"

"Ah see, that is perhaps my flaw. I quite enjoy attention." Hence Dante's flashy suits. His grin settles into a curious look with raised eyebrows. "The power of human denial?" he asks, curiously, but also cautiously.

Elias smiles amusedly as he studies Dante and says, "There's nothing wrong with that, really. Though there's some types of attention that are more desirable than others." He runs his thumb along the handle of the mug, tracing its curve back and forth. "No, not human denial. The Other, protecting itself. They want us to forget, so that we don't fight back."

"Plenty of people have told me it's wrong of me to want to be seen. I convince myself they're simply jealous." Dante doesn't quite wink, but there's a winking look in his eyes. But there are more sober topics at play. The smile leaves his eyes, but stays on his lips a moment longer. "Is that your term for the things that bump in the night? For whatever is in the woods that I hear stories of?"

"It's called the Veil," Elias says, "That place beyond the material world, where things are strange and unnatural. It protects itself, keeps itself, well, veiled, literally as well as figuratively. There are things within the Veil that feed on the negative emotions of others, their loss, pain, fear.. they are the bringers of nightmare, and they enjoy creating fear and feeding on it. They enjoy when we embrace our negative emotions. And those who Glimmer, those who have abilities of their own, or who can at least sense and remember beyond the reach of the Veil.. they make more tasty meals than others." He seems to have no problem talking about it as matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the tides or the climate of the area.

And one storyteller appreciates another, even when said story is true. Dante keeps eye contact and listens, with the fascinated attention of a man who has spent his whole adult life staring into shadows. "Thank you. For actually laying it out rather than dancing about the edges of it and murmuring vague warnings of doom and gloom. And imploring me to leave town while I still can," he drawls. "I saw something. In New England. Something that drove me to dig deeper, and brought me here."

"Why leave town? I've lived here my whole life. My family's lived here for generations. It's a strange place, and there's danger, certainly. But there's danger of getting shot on a street in Detroit, or getting hit by a bus in Boise. At least here, if you die a gruesome death, it might be for a more interesting reason," Elias says with a smile that is purely mischief, dark eyes glimmering with amusement. Then he waves a hand, "I don't beat around the bush about things. If you want to know things, I will tell you them as I understand them, with the caveat that I am still learning, myself, so my information is partial, anecdotal, experiential, and always growing and changing as more evidence is presented." He then tilts his head and asks, "What was it that you saw, if you don't mind me asking?"

"As I've told people all over as I've researched my books: I am not a reporter. I see myself closer to a folklorist, who captures not only the stories that people tell, but the way in which they tell it, and why they do. What it says about them, about the legend, about their town. So I always do my best to listen without judgment, and to accept the energy and tale that someone wishes to tell me. So I would be very grateful for anything you would tell me, regardless of whether it's been verified in triplicate by the proper authorities." A grin, again, but a bit more sober one.

Dante is quiet a moment as he considers the question. He bites the edge of his lower lip. "At a bed and breakfast. In the middle of the night. A form approached me. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. But as it got closer, I saw that it was...more...substantial than that." His eyes that were a moment ago jovial, start to look haunted. His hands clasp a bit more tightly together. "Of course, I convinced myself it was a dream, or perhaps sleep paralysis. But it drove me to start to research. I can't tell you exactly what in my research brought me here, but here I find myself."

Elias nods a little bit to what Dante says first, and it's clear he has some thoughts on it, but he holds them for the tiem being, instead waiting to hear whether or not he will speak of what he saw. When he does, Elias listens with interest. "People find themselves here all the time, particularly those who Glimmer like you do." He nods at Dante and says, "You know that you do, don't you?"

"I don't..." Dante starts, then chuckles humourlessly. "I'm not sure what...that means. But I do seem to find myself finding reasons to extend my stay here. Despite so few stories filling up my research," he gestures vaguely to his laptop. "Truth be told, I've gotten more work done on my next novel than the nonfiction book I should be writing."

Elias folds his arms and rests them on the table a little bit, leaning forward to study Dante curiously, regarding his features, but something more than that, as though he were looking at something 'around' him rather than at him directly. "Have you felt nothing since being here? No, strange sensations that you can't explain? No sudden feeling that something is going on, but you can't quite put your finger on what? Whispers? Tingles? Strange scents?"

"If I'm being honest, I..." Dante smiles, but it's a default expression that sort of vibrates off his lips, "...have trained myself to ignore all of those things. Lest I let my own imagination taint my research." Which isn't an answer about whether or not he's felt them anyway. "But I do find myself...unable to consider leaving."

"You didn't answer the question," Elias says with a little smile playing on his lips, continuing to study Dante's expression when he speaks. "Have you felt them? Have you seen things like you did in New England here? End up in places you didn't expect? See things that didn't make sense? Unnatural things?" It doesn't seem that he's going to relent easily.

"I haven't...seen anything. Not since that night." Dante shakes his head slowly. "But I've certainly felt...something. I can't properly tell you what." And then, a rough chuckle. "I suddenly wish we were in a bar instead of a bloody coffee shop."

"Do you need a drink, Mr. Taylor? We could always relocate, now that I've thoroughly ruined the progress that you were making," Elias says, glancing down toward the stack of books and other things on the table. It's decidedly not an apology, merely a statement of the fact of the matter.

"Let's dispense with the mister business, hmm? If you're going to shatter my perception of reality, perhaps we should be on a first-name basis. Besides," says Dante, as he tries to regain some bravado. "It makes me feel quite old." Then, "Where did you have in mind?"

"Dante, then," Elias says, nodding his agreement to using first-names instead. He laughs then and says, "Well, we wouldn't want that. You're certainly not old enough to feel old." He considers and says, "I suppose that depends. I'm sure you're already familiar with our bar options. Or you can come back to the house if you'd like and we can just raid the liquor cabinet there. Unless you have another otpion, which I'm open to, certainly."

"I do reside in an embarassingly well-appointed unit at the Bayside," says Dante. "With an equally well-appointed bar. Normally I'm quite eager to be around other people, but something tells me, the direction this coversation is going?" a rough chuckle, "Perhaps I won't want an audience."

"Well, I'm more than content to consume your liquor while indulging your curiosity," Elias says, "And perhaps my own as well." He finishes the remainder of his coffee, and then sets the mug down atop the empty little plate that had held the cookies.

The Bayside Apartments are certainly posh. Everything from the elevator up to the parking levels to the hallways is well-appointed and stylish. Dante's place is a corner unit with sweeping views of the now misty and darkening sea. It's appointed well...like the display unit it is, with nice but rather neutral furnishings and no personal touches to speak of. In fact, there's a few empty hooks on walls where it looks like artwork was actually removed. Everything is spotlessly clean and has the sterile feel of a hotel room. "Ah, come in. You're actually my first guest."

Elias follows Dante on up to the Bayside Apartments. He hasn't been inside in a while, but the way he moves toward the correct area with confidence is enough to show that he has been there before and is not unfamiliar with them. He walks into the apartment and takes an idle look around before he wanders toward the windows. "My friend Chloe used to live here before she moved out of town," he says, "Though not on this floor." It's the view of the sea that seems to capture his attention, mostly because his own family home on Oak is further away without a view of it. Turning to glance at Dante over his shoulder and says, "I'm honored," with a little quirk of a smile on his lips.

Despite ostensibly being on home turf, Dante looks a little tense. "It's not very homey. I'm renting it on a temporary basis. It was a show unit." He sets his laptop bag down on the counter and moves a little further in. "It's got large closets though, and it's a two bedroom. Which sounds fantastic, but for me it just means I've a fair bit of unused space. Drink?"

Elias studies Dante from where he's standing, his head tilting just slightly as he notices that tenseness, and glances around. "Are you looking for another place? I've heard things over here have been.. well.. " There's been a lot of murdering going on. He finally pulls away from the windows and moves towrad where Dante is standing. "Certainly. Whatever you're pouring."

"Murderous ghost, apparently. Slaughtering Addingtons? Is that the right name?" Dante raps his knuckles on the counter. "And a delivery boy disappearing in an elevator. A haunted new building seems like a strange thing, doesn't it?" As for if he's considering moving? "Ah, no immediate plans. From what I understand, it's not uncommon to find strange happenings in all manner of buildings. And really, the density of people here is quite high. Whiskey? I've a few other things too, if you'd prefer. A bottle of red. Some beer."

Elias wanders over toward the counter and leans against it comfortably. "Not in Gray Harbor," he says when Dante comments on the strangeness of a new building being haunted. "And yes, Addington. One of the founding families of Gray Harbor. Technically, the Baxters were here first, but the Addingtons ran them off, or so it goes." He then says, "Whiskey's fine. Red is nice. I'll pass on the beer."

"A lot of those family rivalry stories in the founding of towns around this country," says Dante as he pulls down a set of glass tumblers. He's settled in enough to have specific glassware. Then he goes over to a frosted cover and pulls down a bottle of Glenmorangie 15. "On the rocks or straight up?"

"Rocks, please," Elias says as Dante gets out the bottle and the glassware. "There are, yes. I can't say as I know a whole lot about the details of the Baxter/Addington situation. I've been more caught up in my own family's history of lates. My apparently distant cousin recently turned up to tell me that we had an ancestor in common. Apparently a Weber from our family married an alleged Baxter witch burner. But, finding information on her, and him, wasn't entirely easy, and the genealogical information is a bit muddled at best, which is unsurprising. What is weird, is that he was apparently accused of witch burning in the late 1800s, way later than one would expect."

Dante pushes one of the glasses up against the ice dispenser in the fridge. As these things are apt to do, the cube hits it and pops out. He mutters a bit of a curse, then bends down to scoop it up and chuck it in the sink. Then he returns to the counter to pour a measure into the glasses, one with rocks, one without. "I'm reminded to pick up a set of those stones. They chill the whiskey without watering it down." Easier to talk about than witch burnings. He smiles and hands the glass to Elias. "There you are."

He sips his drink, considers, "I'm fairly glad now, that I'm far away from any ghosts who might be related to me. As part of the landed gentry, my family was responsible for a number of ills."

Elias smiles a little in amusement as the ice cube jumps out of the glass and Dante has to go chase it, but the expression smooths over once more once he's handed the glass and he lifts it in Dante's direction in a little salute before he takes a sip. "I do like the stones. I don't have any, myself, but they're an excellent idea." Nonetheless, he seems content with his ice. He lets the topic of his own family history fall by the wayside and smiles a little, "Better the ghosts of strangers?"

"Ah, better the ghosts don't have a personal grudge?" says Dante. He smiles a lot when he's feeling awkward. He smiles a lot in general, with more or less degrees of warmth depending on the situation. "I...suppose..." he motions towards the living area, "...the affinity I feel with the people in this town has something to do with...whatever..." he motions vaguely. "...is around people."

"I suppose that could be a boon," Elias says, and studies Dante, the way that he smiles, and his response. He lifts his glass to his lips and then says, bluntly, but not unkindly, "You seem.. tense.. unsettled? If you're uncomfortable.. I can go?" He gestures a little with the glass toward the door.

"Oh, no, no it's not you, I assure you." Dante chuckles a little. "I'm just...well, it's quite a lot to take in. And as I mentioned, you're the first to be quite so blunt and direct about..." he makes a vague motion with his glass-holding hand, "...everything. I just need a bit more liquid courage and I'll be all right." And to that point, he swallows a mouthful.

It's a little bit ironic. Elias usually delights in unsettling people a little, being oddly inappropriate at times. But it seems he's making an effort not to in this particular case. He nods then, and he makes his way over toward the living area, then, and takes a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and resting his glass on his knee. "It is quite a bit to take in," he agrees. "And I do tend to be.. sometimes overwhelmingly direct. So I'll make an attempt to go slowly." He says, "I'll let you ask the questions."

Dante pauses a moment, considers, then grabs the neck of the bottle which he brings over with him. Before sitting down, he shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over a chair. He takes a moment to carefully roll up his shirt sleeves, then sits. It's all very deliberate. "Questions. I'm usually very good at those. I...you mentioned that the...things in the veil, they feed off bad emotions? Is that why that...figure came to me that night in New England?"

"It's possible," Elias says. "It could very well be one of their agents. We call them the Dark Men, but generally most won't refer to them directly, since it's thought that doing so draws their attention, and since I've no evidence to the contrary, I likely won't refer to them that way again, either. However, they are within the Veil, and their agents can operate outside the Veil, those who are under their influence. It's possible that what you saw was such an agent, or just a creature of the Veil, or of Dream in general. No one has actually seen one of them, to my knowledge, to know if they have a form. If you were in an area with a particularly thin Veil and high negative emotional resonance, or were dealing with fear, anger, and other negative emotions, then yes it's entirely possible they were drawn to you, and moreso because you Glimmer."

Dante goes thoughtfully silent for a moment. He takes a sip, then collects himself before continuing. "I had a fight with my wife that evening. It was one more step down the road that eventually led to our divorce. The room I was in was not the one we started the trip sharing." He chuckles humourlessly, "She accused me of flirting with the waiter at dinner. Which to be fair, I rather was."

He listens to the story with interest, but his lips tick only a little bit at the end when Dante chuckles, before becoming a little more serious once more. "It's possible that something took note of the anger, and decided to feed on it, or foster it further," Elias says. "Which is likely due to where you were. I find that here, where the Veil is thin, those sorts of things seem to happen with greater frequency. Those who come from fairly new, mundane, or idyllic places where the Veil isn't thin rarely report those sort of encounters."

"It's interesting to me that I spent years travelling to places where you'd think it would be thin, but I can't recall many encounters." Dante looks down into his glass and swirls it around slowly. "Was that just bad luck? Or did I somehow block out other incidents? My ex did always tell me I had astonishing powers of self-delusion." The corners of he eyes wrinkle a little.

Elias chuckles a little bit at that and lifts his glass to his lips, taking another sip, before saying, "It's possible you had them, and then they faded once you moved out of an area where the Veil was thin. Folks who remember things here in Gray Harbor will often begin to forget them if they move away. So it could go either way. You may not have had them by luck of the draw, or maybe you did and have forgotten."

"That's...distressing," murmurs Dante. "But wherever I've been, I've documented things fully. Or is it...this sort of thing is in the places you least expect it? So not actually at Lizzie Borden's house, but her neighbour's place down the way?"

Elias shakes his head and says, "I don't know, to be honest. I've spent all of my life here, and my traveling has been limited. As you can imagine, I don't have a lot of exposure to those from other places with whom to collaborate stories." He smiles and spreads his hands a bit, apparently not having all the answers.

Dante bites the edge of his lip. "I suppose it would be a silly question to ask if this whole business is actually dangerous. But it also sounds like I've been on the edge of danger for awhile now but just didn't know it."

"Yes," Elias says, "It is dangerous. But no, it's not silly. On the other hand, there are places within the Veil that are fascinating, and not necesarily overtly dangerous. And there are Dreams that can be downright pleasant from time to time. There's just no real telling which it's going to be, at times."

"So what should I do?" Dante asks as he looks Elias in the eye. "How should I proceed without going mad or being torn apart by the things in the shadows?"

"Learn to control your negative emotions as much as you can," Elias says. "And choose very carefully what you do if you find yourself in the Veil." He purses his lips slightly and says, "We discovered that things can be taken out of the Veil, brought over into this world. We.." He hesitates for just a moment. "We ended up on the other side during the explosion downtown during the construction, and we brought something back with us. Once we did, we realized it needed to be destroyed. Don't bring anything back with you from the other side. Especially if it begs you to. And definitely don't go alone if you can avoid it. Sometimes you won't be able to. Sometimes it just happens. But if you ever want to go exploring, go with someone who has at least a tiny bit of experience."

"Ah, yes, I've read and written enough horror to know that would be a very bad idea. You know..." Dante gets a bit of a haunted look in his eye. He swallows what's left in his glass in one go. "...I wonder if I did see something. Given my latest book was all about a passageway to Hell and bringing corruption back with you."

"It's possible, or it's possible that you just have a very good imagination and are actually a fairly skilled writer," Elias says with a little bit of amusement. But then he says, "I know I promised that you got to ask the questions but -- have you noticed an ability to do things that are.. not natural, yourself?"

"In...what way do you mean?" Dante doesn't sound like he hasn't, just that he's not certain what Elias is asking. "I enjoy many things that some call unnatural, so I try not to judge." Wry, that.

Elias lofts a brow and takes another sip of his drink, finishing it off and setting the glass to one side, "Oh really? Now I'm curious." But then he says, "Something like this.." He holds out his hand and the glass that he'd just set down lifts up off of the table, and comes to rest in the upturned palm of his hand.

Dante ...stares. It's one thing to talk about all this in the hypothetical, or even mine his memory for weird occurences. It's another to see him float a glass. "...sometimes my keys weren't where I put them, but I can't say as I've done anything like that."

The glass slowly lifts off of Elias' hand again and inverts itself, yet the ice remains inside, hanging upside down in the glass, as he turns it over again and then slowly brings it over into the kitchen, where it sets itself down in the sink. "You have the potential for something like that," he tells him. "You can see it if you look at me, the shimmer. It's called Glimmer. There are a few things that I can do, but telekinesis is the easiest to actually demonstrate pretty much anywhere. Those who Glimmer brighter than others have a bit more power behind what they do than others, but not all who Glimmer develop abilities to affect things. So it could be that you can't.. but it also could be that you could if you tried. Some can sense the emotions of others and project their emotions. I can sense them a little, but I would have to practically touch you in order to try and pick up your emotions, because that's not my forte. Some can heal. That, I can do. There's more, but I won't go to deep into it right now. Using it, though, draws attention, so most don't do it a lot unless they want to attract negative attention." He doesn't seem to be too worried about doing it himself, though, it seems.

"And by negative attention you mean..." Dante fights for the word and then settles on, "...monsters? Creatures? Spirits?" He looks to his glass, which is now empty, but he doesn't reach to the bottle to refill. "Then...if it's so dangerous to use your abilities, why would you risk it? Why would you try to make them stronger? It seems like it would be courting disaster."

"The aforementioned folk who feed on nightmares and negative emotions," Elias clarifies. He shrugs his shoulders and says, "The same reason that people do a lot of dangerous things. Sometims the things that can be done outweigh the risk. Sometimes just for the thrill of it. Sometimes because what you can do can help you to fight back, or heal those who are hurt. Some people don't because they'd prefer not to. I'm not particularly afraid of the attention or the darkness. I have a healthy respect for the danger, but I'm willing to poke around in it."

"So am I. Hypothetically. In books. In...the way of taking a close look at the dark part of the human psyche." Dante pauses a moment, then ends up reaching for the botttle. "I don't know if I'm...quite brave enough to go dancing about beyond the veil."

"No?" Elias asks, studying him curiously from where he sits. Then he asks, "So what is it that you enjoy that others would consider unnatural?" leaning back into the corner of the couch and relaxing a bit, perhaps taking a little break from simply inundating the poor man with information.

"Ahh, a bit of a tasteless sexual joke," says Dante as he refills his glass with another healthy splash. He considers the glass before sipping it again. If any situation calls for a second drink, it's this one. "How long have you known about all of this?"

Elias smiles a little bit amusedly and says, "I see." Then he says, "My whole life. My family's been here since the founding of the town. It's kind of a family thing, to know about this sort of stuff and to pass it on."

"So you grew up knowing about all this. That must have been an interesting childhood. Did you use your telekinesis for mischief at school?" Dante's lip pulls upwards into a wry grin "I certainly would have gotten into a bloody lot of trouble if I had any superpowers as a lad."

"Sure, I was one of the freaks in school, one of the Witchy Webers," Elias says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Everyone knew I was a freak, so getting into trouble by doing weird shit was kind of par for the course." He flashes a smile, shamlessly. "Especially since those who don't Glimmer will rationalize it away."

"Ah..." A lightbulb goes off for Dante, accompanied by a flash in dark eyes. "That's why you were asking about the witch trials. You believe that people might have been burned or otherwise persecuted for having this Glimmer and associated abilities? Fascinating."

Elias lifts a hand and wobbles it, "I think that the Baxter guy was definitely after something other than witchcraft. Possibly Glimmer users. But I'm still researching."

"Could the witchfinders have been knowingly or unknowingly working for those dark forces?" Now the historian and the curious chaser of the occult in Dante rears its head. "A fascinating concept. But then, human beings haven't ever needed the prodding of supernatural forces to be shits to one another."

"Could be," Elias says in agreement. "I have no evidence to confirm that either way, yet, but we'll see." He chuckles ruefully and says, "Isn't that the truth?" Then he sighs a little bit and runs both hands through his longish hair, pushing it back out of his face, but as soon as his fingers slip through the strands it falls back into place. "So.. did you have other questions?"

"Oh, a good number. But perhaps we shouldn't overheat my poor brain, hmm?" Dante flashes a smile and salutes with his glass. "But thank you. For trusting me. Most of this town seems to be particularly wary of strangers. And if what you've told me is true, for good reason."

"Perhaps not. Wouldn't want to have you melt down just yet. I'm still waiting for your next book," Elias says with an amused twist of his lips. Then a little more seriously he says, "People have good reason to be wary, and cagey, and to be careful what they say, and to worry about strangers. But then, that's part of why I do what I do. If you're going to be staying here, and you both have the potential for abilities, and to be sucked into the Veil, you should be at least armed with some knowledge about it."

"You and my editor both," drawls Dante. "And I do appreciate it." He shifts forward and sets his glass down. It has a bit left in it. Some of his previous tension has returned, but for different reasons. "I admit, the prospect both terrifies and fascinates me."

"On the upside? It may give you a whole lot of writing fodder, the further down the rabbit hole you go? I'll admit that some things I've been through have informed some scenes in some of my books, and my few horror short stories," Elias admits.

"Ah yes, but I may find it's a bit less fun when I know it's real," says Dante with another one of those grins that happens whether he's feeling the full smile or not. He pauses a moment, then scoops up his glass again and swallows what's left in one mouthful.

"I suppose that depends on how you choose to approach it," Elias says with a little shrug of his shoulders. "I choose to embrace it and lean into it." He smiles, "What's life without a little risk and adventure?"

"I do try to live that way. In theory." Dante raises a finger and wags it once. "But in practice, especially as I grow older, I also grow a bit more cautious of where I step. I've also spent my career imagining the worst-case scenario when you stare into the darkness and it stares right back at you."

"You're not that old," Elias chides Dante, smiling amusedly at the finger-waggling. "Too young still to have only live that way in theory." He slowly pulls himself up and to his feet, drifting back over towad the windows to look out at the sea. "You really do have an incredible view, here." He slides his hands into his pockets.

"I bet I have a decade on you, or something close to it," says Dante with a soft chuckle. "Indeed. It's a properly moody author's view, though I don't spend much time writing here. I find I'm not as productive when I'm alone. So instead I'm the cliche writer, writing in coffee shops and slurping up free wifi."

Elias glances over his shoulder at Dante and shakes his head, "Even if you did, you talk like you're far older than that." He turns then and leans against the edge of the window, his shoulder against the wall as he studies the author. "Well, you've seen where I write. It's what I was doing when you turned up at the shop. I tend to do most of my writing while folks are coming in and out all day long. Though it does mean sometimes when I get on a roll that the shop closes far later than its closing hours."

"Ah, the weight of the cruel world. Though it sounds like you've seen darker and more disturbing things than me, whether I have a decade on you or not." Dante's tone is wry. He stands as well and steps up to the window. The lights are low enough in the apartment to allow the view to linger, though it's quickly getting swallowed up by darkness. "I had the luxury of a family with money and moderate success at a young age, so I've had to hold very few 'real jobs.' Another point of contention with my ex."

"I've seen many dark and disturbing things," Elias agrees as he looks back out over the dark water. "But I've also seen some truly wonderous and amazing things. The lights are brighter in the darkness, not unlike the stars." Stars, which they will only begin to see once the darkness swallows up the remainder of the light outside. "We seem to have a lot more in common than I would have imagined. A family with money, moderate success at a young age, and very few real jobs. I don't have to work in the shop. I own it. Inherited from the family, to be passed on to the next member of the family when I decide to 'retire' from it. But I could just write if I wanted to. I like the shop though, and I like the people who come and go from it." He watches Dante's profile as the man looks out at the view.

"I do admit, I feel an odd..." Dante looks over at Elias, "...kinship with people in this town, despite it being so very far from home. I'm used to small places, but American small places are their own animal." He rests his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I can see the appeal of a bookshop. I may write about them being horribly murdered or driven insane, but I like people." He looks over again with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"I would imagine that they are," Elias agrees with a little bit of a chuckle. "Someday I'd like to visit some of the far away small places that are nothing like my own home." He laughs a bit at that and says, "Well, that's fortunate for people, then. I'd prefer not to be murdered or driven insane, though some might say that's a short drive and I've already passed the last rest stop on the journey."

"You seem perfectly stable to me. Well," and then Dante's tone turns wry, "...except you accepted the invitation of a strange man in a teal suit to come back to his flat on the second time you met him. That was perhaps not the wisest move. I could be a very well-dressed axe murderer."

Elias smiles amusedly at Dante, one eyebrow creeping up again, lips twisting at the edges as he says, "And you invited a guy who believes in creepy creatures from beyond that feed on nightmares into your home. I could have been a criminally insane loony, for that matter. I've certainly received worse invitations from less handsome men. The risk of a little axe murder was worth it to satisfy my curiosity. Besides, I could just levitate you and the axe, making it very hard to chase me." There's a flicker of mischief on his lips, then.

"Could you really?" Dante draws out that last word, eyebrows arching and a little smile twitching at his lips. "My childhood dreams of flying, possibly able to come true?" His trademark sharky grin makes an appearance. "Ah but see, you're a resident of this town. I'm the shifty drifter with the funny accent."

"I could, really," Elias draws out that last word just a little bit and then laughs. "Possibly," he says, "Perhaps I'll try sometime." That mischief doesn't go out of his eyes as he seems to consider, and yet, he doesn't, at least not at the moment. "And you think that there aren't dangerous crazies that are residents of this town?" Then he does laugh and says, "No, I think Carver has you beat out in being the shifty drifter with the funny accent in this town. You're.. not quite shifty enough for that, even if you are a drifter."

"I believe I've had someone mistake me for this Mister Carver before. Unless there is a third Brit in a suit in this town, which is certainly possible." Dante shifts and leans against the window in probably his most relaxed posture of the evening. "In my experience, most obvious crazies are generally misunderstood. It's the cold, calculating crazies that you really have to worry about."

"There could be, though you and Carver are the only two that I'm aware of at the moment. I think we've reached quota," Elias says with a chuckle. "Though I'm not sure how one could mistake you." He tilts his head this way and that, and seems to agree with that assessment. "Yes, I suppose it's the deceptively normal ones that are truly dangerous. I suppose that I'm just not normal enough to not seem like a true psychopath. That's a relief, I suppose," he says with a bit of a laugh.

"I do try to be an original. Some might say I try entirely too hard. But I have suits in my wardrobe that even I'm not quite brave enough to wear. At least outside of the proper occasion." Dante regards Elias for a moment, then he says, "I find you quite fascinating." A pause, then an inhale, "But I suppose you might want to take that with a grain of salt considering I am a horror writer."

"The last time I wore a suit, it was with some friends to go dancing on the roof of an abandoned mill out north of the town in the middle of the night, then to eat ice cream in a diner in the early morning light," Elias says, smiling a little bit at the memory. "What's the point of formalwear if one never wears it?" Then he looks curious, "Why do you have them, then, if you're not brave enough to wear them?" Elias says, "The feeling is mutual." He chuckles, "You are. But it would be wee bit hypocritical for me to fault you for /that/ wouldn't it?"

"That sounds like a glorious evening. I'm of the opinion that most situations are made more enjoyable by the addition of a well-cut suit." Dante pushes himself off the window and slides his hands back into his pockets. "Oh, they're there, awaiting the perfect occasion to shine. I have a gunmetal suit that very nearly reflects and looks smashing over a black silk shirt with a pair of aggresive wingtips. But that's a bit too loud for me to wear while sitting in a coffeeshop, tapping away. Just a bit."

"It was a fantastic evening," Elias confirms, watching as Dante pushes away from the window. Eventually, he too steps away from the view which has vanished into the darkness for the most part, just the lights of the town below, now. "Yes, I suppose that'd be a litte much for the coffee shop, but would definitely suit a night at a piano bar in Seattle." He muses a little bit, and stands there for a moment, before he glances toward the door, and then back toward Dante. "I suppose that I shouldn't overstay my welcome, though."

"I've been trying to learn the piano, in fact. I've been thinking of getting myself a cheap keyboard so I can keep it up. I started as a way to help get over writer's block." Dante looks around. "I certainly have the room." He rolls his shoulders back. "Normally I'd say no hurry, but I think I do need a little time to process. Thank you. All of this is...difficult, but as you say, better I know than to find myself in a terrifying situation and not understand what's happening."

"You should," Elias says, when Dante mentions learning the piano. "I draw when I can't write. I'm afraid I have no musical talent." He smiles then and dips his head, "Of course. It's a lot." He goes into Dante's kitchen, then, finding something to write on and a bit of paper, and he writes his personal number down and leaves it on the counter. "If you run into anything you need help with or have more questions," he says, and then begins to withdraw toward the door.

"Can I call for reasons beyond those two?" Dante asks as he makes his way slowly over towards the door to see him out. "Perhaps to vent about agents or trade tips for writer's block? Or..." he stops though, grins a bit, and for the first time in the evening, rakes his fingers through his hair. It unsettles the neat style, but he already started doing that with cuffing his shirt.

Elias's steps are no more quick than Dante's as he makes his way toward the door, turning when he reaches it to lean back against the wall next to it for just a moment and study Dante, that little smile curling the edges of his lips, "You can call me for any reason you like, Dante. Or for no reason at all." He glances at that slightly unsettled bit of hair and then back down at the man's eyes. Then he reaches for the handle of the door to open it, letting a bit of light from the hall into the dimmer room.

"The card I gave you the other day has my personal number on it," says Dante. He steps closer, then reaches out for the door handle, to pull it back for his guest. "Have a safe drive home. I've personally ordered a ghost-free journey." His tone is lower, ostensibly because the door is open a little and a louder voice might disturb his neighbours.

"Then perhaps I'll call you for no reason at all," Elias says with a little smile, then pulls away from the wll, and when the door is pulled open, slips out through it, murmuring, "Very kind of you, Mr. Taylor." There's a sparkle of amusement in those eyes before he dips a bow with a little flourish, and then he's off, hands in his pockets as he heads toward the elevators, and out the way he'd come in.