2019-10-28 - Garden Arrangements

Another chilly autumn day for Masquerade setup. Juniper's laid out her plans for the Garden to be assembled in Addington Park, and now various landscapers and Branch & Bole employees putter about doing just that. Huge, colorful pots are being loaded off the back storage compartments of the bucket trucks and removed from their pallet and foam enclosures, set into place, and filled. Trellises, water features--the works. It'll be a true work of art once it's done. The plan is to leave it up until the Solstice, when it'll all come down.

August is in his 'working clothes', i.e. a t-shirt (white, with the Linneaus flower clock), denim jeans, and work boots, plus a dark gray hoodie on the off chance the rain or wind kick up. He's helping get things planted, and if he occasionally uses a little Glimmer to settle the plants and get them happy in this temporary place, well, all it looks like to anyone else is a job well done, with Juniper and his names attached to it. The Unshaped can come get some.

He's currently helping get a sweet autumn clematis settled on an arch, where it'll be entwined with a bower vine. It's careful work, winding the tentrils around the framing, and he has to pause every now and then and focus his eyes somewhere else.

It's slowly, but surely, getting too cold to dive, or swim, or generally do anything in the Pacific.

Which might be the reason why, on this fine late morning, Isabella can be spotted here instead of by the water she so loves, clad in her runner's attire; yoga leggings, running shoes, a slim-fitting hoodie left half-unzipped to reveal her tanktop underneath and the electric blue of her sports bra's more substantial frame crossing over humid, sweat-mottled skin. Her dark hair is pulled in a loose knot, escaped tendrils clinging to flushed cheeks and the side of her throat and tangling slightly at the earbud headphones that are visibly wedged against the sides of her head. She's on a quick trot, making her way through the winding, cobblestoned paths of Addington Park.

The archaeologist slows, though, when she sees the set-up and a familiar figure there. She switches tracks, slowing down to a brisk walk, her hand already fumbling for the small water bottle clipped to her runner's belt as she ventures towards the arch, green-gold eyes finding the older man's profile, brightened considerably by the exercise. "Hey, August," she greets. "Need any help?"

August peers around the curve of the arch, gives Isabella an upnod and a small smile. "Hey yourself. We're good, but you're welcome to watch us bring it all together, if you want. Juniper came up with a hell of a design, should look fantastic once we're done." He continues guiding the clematis through the arch supports with careful motions. "I did get one bite on your ring, by the way. It's a little far fetched and is gonna sound like a Big Fish story more than anything else, but," he shrugs, glances at her with raised eyebrows in between movements weaving the vine, "might be a solid hit anyways, knowing this place."

"Juniper? New employee?" It's a name she doesn't recognize, and she tends to have a good memory for such details. Isabella takes a long step sideways, though, to prevent herself from getting in the way too much of August and his team as they continue to set up the garden maze, interest brightening her expression. "It's starting to look really amazing," she says appreciatively, taking in the trellises being brought down from the truck.

Word on the Ring only intensifies the look on her face, attention swinging to August immediately, surprise visible there - that a hunch had actually panned out. "Yeah?" She takes a swig of her water, though this is almost an absent gesture. "I'll take anything at this point, if not just to point the gang in a direction. Thanks for fielding the query for me to your fish, wildlife and forestry contacts, by the way, I appreciate it."

Rusty Caldwell is good, cheap labor. And his job as "trending" internet personality is a pretty open gig. So it was no problem when a landscaper neighbor of his asked for an extra set of hands in exchange for some under the table cash. Unfortunately, his help with anything Halloween related comes at the cost of hearing him whinge about it. "I mean, like, why all of this for a night of cheap costumes made w-with slave labor in Thailand or somewhere? And overpriced candy because printing a pumpkin on a wrapper is apparently an up-charge." He rants at another gardener while holding their ladder steady. He has a captive audience this way. He's dressed in a typical sort of dirty work outfit. Paint splattered, mud stained jeans, worn boots, a dark patterned shirt with a hoodie, hood down. His longer bits of hair are pulled back in a short tail. Can't miss that gray streak though.

Isabella might feel eyes on her. Rusty's. Narrowed and curious, like he knows her from /somewhere/ but is too shy to say anything. But he does stop bitching. Pros and Cons.

"No, June's a landscaper, she just moved into the area. She's good, by the way, if you need anything done I completely recommend her. We've got her information at the shop." August steps clear of the trellis, pauses to eye Rusty. "It's for more than one night," he says, tone one of endless patience. "I feel you on the whole Halloween costume issue, but a lot of people make their own." Or let themselves be subjected to someone else's ideas, like him.

He tugs off his gloves and nods towards a small set of injection molded plastic table and chairs which are set up for breaks. There's two pitchers, one of water and one of lemonade, and a stack of bright red Solo cups. A small box of various snack bars completes the arrangement. It's a suggestion for Isabella to take a seat, if she wants, though it leaves them within easy hearing distance of Rusty.

Agust pours himself a lemonade. "I have to warn you, the source is...questionable." He bobs his eyebrows. "Tom, not sure if you know him--guy who has a lot of addiction issues. Still," a shrug, "we both know that's not the flimsiest lead anyone's chased."

"I'll have to look her up when I do. It's coming." There's a glance down at the bottle of water she holds in her grip. "Dad's in New Orleans, so cleaning up the family homestead's on me, including landscaping at the back." She hasn't been back there since a few days after the murder.

The man's address of Rusty has the brunette turning her attention there, tilting her head curiously at the other man. He isn't anyone she recognizes, in spite the fact that he's looking at her as if he knows her. Still, there's a smile offered, however tentatively, wiggling her fingers in his direction - in case she does know him, but just can't remember. Such instances are rare, but not unheard of.

She's ready to listen, at any rate; slender fingers lift to remove her earbuds from her hair, coiling up the cord gently so she can tuck it in the pockets of her hoodie. Sharp, keen, curious eyes remain riveted on August's face, Isabella's expressive mouth drawing the faintest of contemplative frowns from the corners of it. Ever restless, potential energy simply dying for the excuse to be kinetic again has her shifting even as she stands there by the arch, speaking to the former Forestry agent; a knee bends, the ball of her foot tapping lightly on the grass. She fiddles with her water bottle, light fingertips drumming against the plastic until the implied offer to take a seat is accepted. She occupies one near August.

"It's definitely not," she concurs. "And like I said, I'll take anything at this point. I'm honestly surprised the hunch panned out in some way. I don't know Tom..." But he knows she hasn't been back to her hometown for a decade and change. "...but what did he say?"

Rusty grunts at the response to his Halloween whining but he's reengaged at the mention of this Tom-Person. "Tom? An addict named Tom..." His neighbor flees, seeing his attentions are no longer on his loathing of all things spooky. Rusty starts to approach. "I got an email from a local Tom asking me to talk about some shit in the lake." He is soft spoken when he isn't actively kvetching and pulls out his phone to look up the email perhaps but after one look at the screen, he pockets it again. "I can't look at it now. I didn't delete it yet. I just didn't care at the time. He's into meth now or whatever. Probably doesn't want to sleep." A moment passes. "Oh. Uh. I'm Rusty. I do a whole online...thing. Occult related things, you know? So. I. Uh, get emails and tweets and shit."

Speak of the ... devil? Or speak of the landscaper, anyway, and lo, she appears. Pulling her truck up onto the roadside or into a parking lot if there is one, Juniper slides out, grabbing her toolbox and slamming the door behind her. It bleeps as she hits the lock button on her keyfob, and then she begins to head over to this zone of industry, a bright smile and wave directed towards August, a similarly bright "Hi," chirped at all three of them. Clearly she's an equal-opportunity greeter. "Hey honey," she then adds more directly at the other gardener. "Clematis is looking nice. I brought some more tape and wire twists if needed." As well as about half a bajillion other things in her toolbox.

August gestures at Rusty with his Solo cup of lemonade. "They very same," he says. "Probably the same stuff he told you then--that there's caves down there. Well, and bodies," he shrugs about that, because bodies in the lake would have rendered it unswimmable, "but the caves seemed more relevant. Said he fell out of his boat maybe a month ago, and saw a purple glow," his eyebrows go up, "in one of these caves." A sip of his lemonade. "Not sure what your ring looks like, but..."

He grins at Juniper, holds up his lemonade in a greeting. "Hey. That'd be great, I'm just about out. I managed to get my hands on a few Lapageria and a harlequin Honeysuckle. If you've got a spot where you want some more color, let me know."

Rusty's approach and his own anecdote about Meth-Tom has Isabella drawing down her brows in quiet contemplation. Her expression is polite and friendly enough, though, once he's within conversation distance. "Isabella, archaeologist," she supplies.

There have been rumors about bodies in the lake since she was young, so when August mentions that, there's absolutely no surprise there - but the caves? "Fits the timeline," she murmurs, meeting August's eyes for a moment - something about what he had passed onto her confirms something at least, but it only seems to inspire her frown. "Water's getting colder, and cave diving isn't exactly the safest activity even for masters." She cradles her face in the open cup of one palm, elbow braced against the table. "When Dad was teaching me, he used to tell me horror stories about it, because it's no joke. It gets darker the deeper you go and you tend to battle out the lack of visibility plus the added dangers of significant water pressure - collapses can happen any time. I've heard of people who've died in past attempts, just...souls who don't appreciate the risk enough finding themselves trapped and scratching out last letters to their loved ones on their oxygen tanks."

There's a thoughtful nibbling on her lower lip. Despite what she has said, she doesn't seem at all scared off. Lifting her eyes again, she smiles gratefully at August. "Thanks. I know I say it a lot, but I owe you."

When Juniper arrives, there's a smile and a wave. "Hi," she greets affably, before uncapping her water bottle again and taking a swig.

Rusty seems to shrink as Isabella talks about the caves. Shrink. Shudder and when she's finished, he looks almost confused. "That sounds creepy as fuck. But, uh, I mean...Tom's story seems as legit as any other story I've heard about the...lake." Juniper appears in his vision and the older man seems a little taken aback. "Hi." Now he's staring at her. Awesome. "You're not from here, right? We don't make them as pretty as you up here." Mm. The direct approach. Very direct. A real compliment as opposed to something flirtatious and light.

Setting her toolbox down next to where August is working, Juniper then grabs a drink from the table; a solo cup of water for her, something to sip while she considers the work being done. "Yeah? I'll give it some thought," she nods to August as he mentions some colourful flowers, mentally reviewing the layout of the garden they're putting together.

While she thinks, she gets greeted, tipping her head towards Isabella with a nod, and then blinking at Rusty, her bright smile returning. "That's real kind of you, honey. Thank you. And no, I'm not from around these parts." Her accent is definitely American, just something further south, maybe New Mexico for those who might recognise it. "I'm Juniper, by the way. Juniper Wilson." That's to both the people she doesn't know.

"August," August adds, somewhat belatedly, to Rusty. Though perhaps he knows that already, given they're working on the same project, but August isn't going to pretend he thinks everyone knows who he is, aside from some old gardener.

He pulls a face, nods at Isabella. "If you've got an ROV small enough, that'd be a hundred times safer. I know that equipment's not cheap, though." He takes a chocolate and peanut butter granola bar out of the box, sets to unwrapping it. "Let me know if I can help on that, but my help's pretty limited." He pauses, looking thoughtful. "Unless there's any plants growing down there. Then I might be able to do something about it."

That super smooth delivery from Rusty gets a coughed laugh from August. "Come on, don't talk about our locals that way. Plenty of good looking locals around here." He asides to Juniper, "And some golden hops, but I went ahead and used those to decorate in front of a few businesses that wanted some local look without much flare. If you want a nice chartreuse and gold, let me know." Washington does produce 3/4s of the nation's hops used in beer production, after all.

"I've got one," Isabella tells August, though there's a grin flashed at him there, indicative that they're on the same wavelength. "And it's insured, since it's definitely not a cheap piece of equipment. I was originally brought here on a consult, so it's part of my kit. We've already taken it out on the first attempt. But yeah, definitely - nobody knows the wilderness around here better than you do."

Rusty's shudder and remark has her smiling ruefully and lifting her shoulders. "The water's no joke," she tells him simply, though she does pause when the older man ribs him immediately about his compliment. Juniper's introduction pulls her expression into a broader grin.

"Isabella Reede - August was just telling me you work wonders," she tells her.

"I know. Smooth as butter." Rusty looks up at the sky and grumbles. "I have a thing. Social...thing. I better go prep for that better than I did this attempt. Nice to see and meet you all." He smiles. Kinda. His natural frown lifts a bit. To Isabella, he says, "You lost your twin. That's where I know your face from. I didn't mean to stare." And he just walks away at that.

"I was thinking tea olive around the entrances for the scent as well as the colour; the hops would compliment those flowers nicely," Juniper nods to August, his suggestion a good one. Then she grins again, cheeks pinking a bit at the comment from Isabella about August praising her work.

"I wouldn't say wonders, but when you've got a good supplier it's amazing what you can get done," she comments, her glance over to August suggesting he's the supplier in question. Then Rusty is making to leave, and she lifts her solo cup in his direction. "It was nice meeting you, hun. Have a good.. uh, social thing."

"Tea olive and hops sounds perfect," August agrees. He dips his head to Juniper in a stately thank you for the compliment in turn, has a sip of lemonade. He blinks at Rusty's departing comment to Isabella, casts her a sideways look and says absolutely nothing about that.

"So, either of you planning on costumes for the events? Ellie and I were thinking of the boat tour." He pulls a face. "Should get one of those in before they build that stupid casino."

"Well - August is a steady, dependable, reliable and awesome guy, so I tend to believe what he says," Isabella quips, her grin a bright and unapologetic thing, waggling her eyebrows playfully at August when both women turn to look at him at around the same time. "Before long, you're going to have clients crawling out of the woodwork, especially with Fall right on top of us. August said you just arrived here?"

Her hand lifts, also, in parting towards Rusty, though when he mentions just why he had been staring at her that way gives her pause. It's brief, but she tends to recover quickly, regardless. "See you, Rusty," she says, watching the man go for just a moment.

She hardly misses anything; at August's sideways glance, her eyes lower to her water bottle for just a moment, but the fact that he doesn't comment on it and even changes the subject earns her gratitude a thousand times over. She takes a swig of her water and lets out a small sigh. "With the way that case is going, I don't know how we're going to prevent it from happening. The Chairwoman of the Society's doing the best she can to bully the Mayor to retract his approval, but you know as well as I do that's not going to happen. Boat tour's a great idea, though, while the weather's not super cold. As for costumes...this is Byron's baby, so definitely, if not just to support him. I'm not a fan of dressing up, but I can be talked into it for a good cause. I'm going as Carmen." Bizet's protagonist from his most famous opera. "So red flamenco dress and a mask. What about you two?"

"Honestly I hadn't thought about actual costumes," Juniper acknowledges to August's question after a sip of her water. "I have no idea what I would wear either. I've mostly got a wardrobe full of jeans, t-shirts, overalls and the odd bandanna." One shoulder lifts in a shrug, and then she nods to Isabella.

"Yeah, just over a week. It's been wild, with August here inviting me in on this masquerade ball garden piece. Also the people 'round here are pretty friendly, the weed is decently priced and the weirdness is familiar." So far she sounds happy - though she also seems to be an optimist.

"I would never lie or exaggerate about a fellow horticulturist's skills," August assures them both in a tone of mock severity. He chases that with a twitch of his lips, and has a few bites of the granola bar. He watches Rusty go, gauging Isabella's reaction. Nothing that seems to warrant comment. "If we can find an endangered something in the area, that could trigger an environmental re-assessment. So, mollusks, fish, seabirds, even aquatic plants or orcas. Kind of the stage we're at for stopping it."

He nods at Juniper, suggests, "There's a comics store, the owner does cosplay outfits. I bet she could help you come up with something that wouldn't set you back." For himself, he adds, "I've got an older, dress ball sort of suit, and the neighbor girl who helps take care of my animals offered to make me a mask to go with it. So, we'll see. Probably something esoteric and not main stream, given her upbringing and usual outfits." He shrugs. It might be a mistake. They'll all find out soon enough.

"I'm going the super lazy way, honestly. I took flamenco lessons while I was summering in Spain one year," Isabella confesses. "So the dress and the shoes are already in my closet. Just need to get the mask." She lets out a small laugh. "It's either the red dress or the red trenchcoat, so I figured I was going as a Carmen in some form or another." If that doesn't out her as some kind of nerd, nothing will. "I'm glad that you find the townies friendly, though." There's a curious angle of her head towards Juniper. "The weirdness is familiar?" It sounds like there's a story there.

August's words have her nodding, making a displeased face. "They tried with the cutthroat trout but that ended up a bust, I think the group's trying to find something else. If anything we're lucky that the judge is dragging her heels on it, also. Can't wait to see what your neighbor makes for you, though. How are you feeling? From last night." Somehow talk about animals and ecology reminds her of certain strange texts from the evening before. She peers at August's face.

"Hmn." Juniper doesn't sound sold on the idea of a comic costume; apparently she isn't much of a comics fan, or at least doesn't fancy dressing up as one for Halloween. Looking thoughtful, she sips more water and then smiles at Isabella. "Yeah. Spent an evening sitting on the beach sharing a blunt with a stranger, talking about all kinds of things. Admittedly New Mexico doesn't have actual coastal beaches, but lake shores come close. That kinda weird is familiar." She smiles slowly in memory, then cocks her head slightly as she tunes into the other half of the conversation, about a casino and endangered things and lawyers and shit, before turning her gaze to August, curious how he's going to answer that latter question.

"The Harbor's not the only place, ah, like this," August says, glancing from Juniper to Isabella. "Portland's got some weird spots too." He toys with a piece of granola bar. "Grew up down there," he adds, pops the piece into his mouth.

He's slower to answer Isabella's other question. Looking uncomfortable and even a little embarrassed, August says, "I'm feeling a lot better." He clears his throat. "Pretty sure that's all sorted." As in, he deleted his text message history from yesterday. All of it. He sighs, asides to Juniper, "There are dryads out there. Be careful what you cut down, they're kinda feisty and have Opinions they'll share with you using spears and nets."

"I've traveled a lot but I've never..." Then again, she had not been looking for it either, and even consciously avoided them. There has always been some part of her that simply lets her know when a place is 'thin'. Isabella takes a hefty swallow of her water bottle at that.

These small fragments of Juniper's and August's pasts are digested with her usual, keen interest - if anything, it's the outsiders that come into this sleepy town that tend to fascinate her the most. "So why Gray Harbor if I may ask?" Green eyes turn to Juniper. "Other than the friendly people?" It's the same question she had asked her fellow field researcher before, though she hadn't known about the spots in Portland. "You mentioned you were going to head down there, soon, didn't you?" This to August. "When's that happening?"

Mention of the dryads, however, puts a faintly resigned expression on the archaeologist's face. This town.

"Dryads? Ugh. Okay. Should I knock on the trees first?" Juniper asks, rolling her eyes. Not at the notion of there being dryads; that's acceptable, apparently, but at the inconvenience. Then her gaze shifts over to Isabella and she offers a slightly embarrassed smile. "Roswell, New Mexico, is similar to here in that sense, and that's where I'm from." That explains her relative familiarity with weird things, at least.

Sipping from her solo cup again, she adds, "Mostly chance, inasmuch as there is chance about these things. Had to leave Roswell, ended up wandering, finished up here."

"This is the third one I've come across. Though the second one, that might've just been...the circumstances." August grimaces, finishes up his granola bar like he's trying to mask an ugly taste. "Not sure that's like here or Portland, where it sticks around." He washes it down with a drink of lemonade.

"Knocking wouldn't hurt," he says on a nod. "Or, just check around, with," he taps over his breastbone. "You should be able to feel them, they're like...bonfires, to the Gift we have. Concentrated life force."

Of a Portland trip, he says, "November. Take a drive on down there, see the family, raid Powells...hit up the Tunnels and ask around." The Shanghai Tunnels, he means. "See if what happened here happened down there. It's the closest one I know of, makes it as good a benchmark as any other."

"Oh, Roswell." Now it makes sense. Realization clears up the faint expression of befuddlement on Isabella's face.

With a quiet sigh, she moves to stand up from the chair, curious eyes falling on August when he tells her that this is the third spot he's come across, and how dryads burn like bonfires. "Travel safely when you go," she tells him. "Let me know what you find? If what happened here happened there. I'm out next year too, London's got a few." He would know that already - it's defense time for her, soon.

"I should probably get back to writing, now that I'm reminded. Thanks again for everything and I'll keep you in the loop." To August, a smile turned to him, which also swings to Juniper's way. "Nice to meet you, Juniper. Hope to touch base with you soon about the family house and upkeep."

After a final wave, she starts trotting back up the paths.

Oh, Roswell. Juniper gets a slightly sheepish look, and she lifts a hand to wave to the departing woman. "Nice meeting you, and yeah - August has my number if you want to talk landscaping," she confirms, then turns her attention to the man in question. "So. Hops, tea olive and clematis. Maybe some little golden LED lights hidden inside the petals of the lighter flowers?"

August chuckles at the way Isabella says 'Roswell'. Okay, maybe it's a gimme a place like that would be thin. But he doesn't recall feeling one at the Golden Gate Bridge ever, and that would seem like an obvious spot. Sometimes he feels like he knows so little.

"Take care, write well," he says to Isabella as she goes. He eases up out of the chair, pulls on his gloves. "I like the LED lights idea. Low power, shouldn't damage the plants, gives it a nice ambiance even if it's gray out" Hands on his hips, he looks around to see how things were coming along, gestures at a set of dark red and gold drip-glazed pots. They're about three feet tall apiece, made to display the pot as much as the plant. "Did you have a spot you wanted these, by the way, anything specific to put in them?"