2019-11-08 - Hopeless Together

The bitter chill of the outside prefaces a harsh winter, but considering the volatility of the weather in the last few days, that isn't really surprising. As a distant thunderstorm flashes light and noise outside, pouring rain against the well-constructed windows of City Hall, it doesn't look at all like a friendly work day. But the wheels, gears and cogs of the local bureaucracy continue to turn and work, even in a day like today.

Isabella shows up at the appointed hour, never late or early - she gives herself a few minutes so she can check in with the receptionist at the main desk that handles appointments for City Hall employees and officials, before she gets instructions as to where Anne Washburn's office is. Once acquired, she follows the signs and the way to where that is. She's dressed in her usual - clothing that keeps to the line between functional and fashionable; black dress pants, boots, a blouse and a reddish-brown leather jacket pulled over it. Her moonstone pendant swings against the front, an umbrella is clutched on her other hand.

"Miss Washburn?" she inquires once she has knocked on the doorframe. There's a faint smile. "Thanks for affording me some of your time today."

The 'office' of the City Hall Archivist is not much of an office. Sure, there's a desk, but it's intentionally shoved as close to the door as humanly possible to make room for all the filing cabinets. And there are a lot of filing cabinets. Surely, it's not where all the records are kept, but there's a good wealth of information here and readily accessible. Anne is currently seated on a wheelie chair, angled away from her desk and the (probably ancient) PC there, in favor of swiping through a far more technologically advanced tablet. She's dressed business casual: black pencil skirt, nylons, and a cowl necked gray blouse, over which she wears a dark purple cardigan. She also wears a frown, though the look is far more 'thoughtful' than 'something is wrong'.

Anne looks up at the knock to the door, seemingly unsurprised by the noise. Probably because her tablet is already lit up with an appointment reminder, one which she dismisses with a quick tap of her finger before she gets to her feet. "Miss Reede, it's nice to see you again," she puts the tablet aside and waves Isabella in, pointing to a chair that's probably gotten wheeled in from another office. "Please sit. It's always really a pleasure when somebody wants to come see me. Usually they are being forced to for one reason or another," she laughs.

There's an appreciative glance at all the filing cabinets that dominate Anne's office, green-gold eyes lit with curiosity, though her smile fades into a visible frown when she catches sight of the archaic computer that sits on her desk. "Oh, wow, I haven't seen that in ages," Isabella remarks, though her attention doesn't linger there for long; her smile pulls up, something warmer to its bent, at hearing the archivist laugh, and once she steps in the office, she extends her hand for a handshake again before she even takes up the chair.

Now that they're away from the hustle and bustle of the City Hall meeting, she has the time and the room to observe the other woman and her arresting eyes when the chair takes up her weight in a telltale creak. "I most definitely did want to see you," she declares with an answering grin. Enough to call for an appointment, even! Another sweep of her space with her gaze taken, she continues: "I knew you were an expert on the local history and that you worked for the Hall, but I hadn't known that you were the archivist until I called. Do you handle specific kinds of records, or generally all of them?"

Blue eyes flick to the computer and another bubble of laughter pops out of Anne. "I've been putting in requests for a new one almost every month, but all that government red tape," her eyes glimmer with a hint of amusement as she shakes her head. "It took them a year to approve the tablet! And even then, I think it was just because I got annoying about it." Her grin turns briefly sly before she reaches out to take Isabella's hand for the shake.

That out of the way, she perches back down onto her chair, leaning forward slightly towards her knees. She keeps her focus on the woman in front of her, studious in a way. "Oh, mostly everything. Certainly anything that gets officially filed for the city, so all your business permits and development plans, that sort of thing. But also all the historical records. I've been working on a new organizational method," she tips her head to look about the filing cabinet, her lips briefly tipping back down into that thoughtful sort of frown. "My predecessor was .. well. I'm certain there was a method to her madness! I just haven't figured it out."

Eyes widen during their handshake, and what Anne says about her struggles for better technology garners a laugh. "Oh my god, and you prevailed!" Isabella exclaims - she has some idea as to how difficult that is. "I mean, with the tablet, but it's still a worthy victory. Hopefully you get a new machine soon that'll help you keep track with all of this." She gestures to the filing cabinets. "All of it looks rather daunting, but I hope every day feels like a treasure hunt, at least."

Interest continues to grow at the mention of the young woman's predecessor; Anne's face makes it rather difficult to determine her age by sight alone. "By the way you were talking in the town hall meeting where we met, it sounded like you have an incredible memory for dates and facts - hopefully that helps! Who was your predecessor, if I may ask?" she wonders, stooping slightly so she could open her bag and produce a small notebook and a pen, flipping it to a blank page. "Have you been working for City Hall long?"

"I did!" Anne says proudly of her accomplishment, tipping her chin upward with a dimpled grin. "And I'll prevail again, but good things come to those who wait. Or so I'm told," she giggles, following Isabella's gesture to the filing cabinet. There's a certain amount of pride there, too, in the way she looks at the files. "My hope is to get an updated document management software. Eventually, I'll have everything scanned and can just pull it up with a click of a button! But at least everything in here has been sorted. It's the file room that I'm having difficulty with, that place is labyrinthine." Yet the wistful sigh attached to that descriptor suggests Anne's rather fond of it anyway.

"Oh, I actually have a bit of a photographic memory. It was rather helpful in school," she admits with a smile that seems something close to bashful. But it fades at the mention of her predecessor. "I've been with City Hall for five years. Before that, I worked at the high school library. That's what I got my degree in, Library Sciences," she points out. As for her predecessor? "Mister Clemson passed, which was why his spot was up for reelection. He died at his desk." There's a pause, a quick widening of her eyes. "Not this desk, or even this chair. That was one thing they didn't make me wait years to replace, at least."

"Well, if you're able to land the tablet, I'm sure you'll raise enough hell to get the computer eventually - it's the patient ones that bureaucrats really need to watch out for," the archaeologist replies, a teasing note to her voice and mischief in her eyes.

"That sounds like a place worth some manner of excavation, or an expedition." There's no judgment there - if nothing else, Isabella's face is a sympathetic and interested one, her attention briefly moving away from the file cabinets here to the door, open curiosity on her features as to where the file room is actually located. There's a certain wistful air around her as she remembers the old archives in the Bodleian Libraries, up to her elbows in manuscripts. "But these days an electronic database is definitely the way to go, it certainly helps make research easier! Though between you and me..." She lowers her voice, as if imparting a shameful secret. "I like the feel of old paper and the smell of old ink, so sometimes, I still hope for an excuse to do that whenever I'm working."

Surprise flits across her expressive features. "You're an eidetiker? I...honestly? I've heard of people who have it, but you're the first one I've actually met. Wow, what's that even like? Is it like taking actual snapshots of the things you read, or is it a passive thing where you can just call it up anytime because you've seen-- " A pause, and she laughs, embarrassment coloring her face. "Ah, sorry, sorry. I don't mean to keep peppering you with questions, honestly, it's just...god, I can't help but be jealous. Just a little." She pinches the air between thumb and forefinger.

Her confession fades in the background though and indeed, her eyes suddenly latch onto Anne's desk when she mentions her predecessor died at his desk, though at the clarification, there's a sudden relaxation on her shoulders. "Oh, oh! Ha ha...ha..." The laugh is weak, and audibly awkward. "Still, sounds like he was really attached to his job - though that's good, in a way? I love meeting people who are passionate about their work, I tend to learn a lot within a few minutes just sitting with them." She wiggles her notebook, her grin flashing back on her face. "I actually wanted to ask you about Gray Pond, today."

"Between you and me? I prefer paper too. But a solid database would mean I can keep the paper here and not have to worry about them being damaged," Anne replies of the archives, a quiet laugh following her words. "And you don't need to apologize, honest. It's sort of like.. I can just easily recall things. It's not perfect, by far, but I can usually remember something I've read, bits of texts, that sort of thing," she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. "Like I said, great for my job. Less so for personal relationships though," there's a quirk of a smile, maybe that was a joke.

But there's that moment of awkward laughter for the dearly departed Mr. Clemson, and Anne takes the moment to lean back into her chair and make herself more comfortable. "Honestly, I can see why he was so attached. I love the position, and being so close to the history of our little town, you know? I couldn't imagine being anywhere else," she cocks her head to the side, a brow hiking at the mention of the pond. "Oh? I suppose that's not a surprising thing for somebody to be interested in considering all the stories. What is it that you're curious about?"

"Paper's fragile," Isabella agrees wholeheartedly, intensity and a similar passion within the depths of her stare as the conversation shifts towards the preservation of historical records. "Humidity, temperature - it can get easily lost, when transported and if people check them out, sometimes things go missing. I honestly can't blame you and hopefully the city agrees to get that set up soon. If not? Maybe the city can crowdfund for it, ask the public for help." There's a pause, and her expression brightens. "I just obtained a membership with the Historical Society, and the Chairwoman's huge on fundraising. Maybe there could be an alliance, if the red tape takes too long."

Anne's own confession about how much she loves her job, however, transforms the young archaeologist's face; softer, the warmth within the undercurrents growing there. "I get it," she says quietly with a smile. "Being attached to history." All manner of history interests her, from people to places to things, and while she's less enamored about Gray Harbor's, she can't begrudge and can only encourage that kind of love in others elsewhere - after all, it can't be all darkness and strangeness here, can it? "My own field's history-adjacent but I can definitely understand it."

Mention of the stories has her pausing visibly. "I've honestly heard everything about it," she confesses. "Ranging from how it's a favorite dumping ground for local criminal elements to other, very strange tales. I heard from someone else that it wasn't a natural feature - that it started out as a man-made reservoir. But I also heard stories that there were caves underneath there." She grins faintly. "You can say I live half my life and most of my work exploring underwater terrain, so that particular aspect made me extremely curious, and I was wondering if you knew whether there were such structures there before it was submerged in water to build the reservoir."

"Mmhmm, exactly," Anne isn't going to argue with Isabella's points about paper! She bobs her head in agreement to every single fact. But her brows do go up at the mention of the Historical Society. "Oh, yes. That'd be Clarissa Robbins, the Chairwoman. I've actually been meaning to obtain a membership of my own, but between this job and my volunteer work at the library, and my dogs and my own personal projects.." There's another sigh, this one a touch weary. "Sometimes there are not enough hours in the day!"

There's a curious glint to her eyes when Isabella mentions being history adjacent, the question a natural one - "What is it that you do? Is it something in conservation? You seemed very concerned about the fish at the meeting," she notes.

As for the pond, Anne quiets to listen to Isabella's reply, nodding slowly. "I think sometimes it's difficult to parse fact from fiction in this town," she replies. "And it's even harder to parse fact from fiction from..other..fact," her brow furrows, that's not coming out right. There's an awkward shift on the seat as she focuses in on Isabella for a moment, her lips tipping into a contemplative sort of frown. "I can tell you that our pond is in fact man-made. The construction began in 1908, but there were some.. mishaps and questionable labor practices, so the pond wasn't officially finished until April 1910. As far as caves, well.." There's another shift, another frown, and she leans to catch the door with her heel and push it shut.

Anne settles back with a quick 'ahem', raising her brows at Isabella. "You've met the Archivist," it isn't a question, it's just a statement of fact. "Not me. The other one. You know that things here are ... different, over there?"

"We have a meeting sometime this week or next week - there are plans to sponsor a New Year's Eve fundraiser," Isabella offers. "If you don't have the time, I can always bring up your interest to Missus Robbins, is that something that you would like for me to do? It's definitely the very least I can do for your time today." She also visibly lights up when Anne mentions her dogs, and she can't help but laugh. "I'm a dog person, too," she tells her, grin broad enough to chase out a usually hidden dimple out of her left cheek. "I'm a dog person who can't keep one, so double the jealousy from where I'm sitting." She winks at Anne at that.

The curiosity has her fishing around for her wallet to hand Anne a small white card. "I'm a doctoral candidate," she supplies; the thing bears the logo of the University of Oxford, noting her position as a senior research assistant for its school of archaeology. "My emphasis is underwater archaeology, specializing in ancient Greek and Roman culture. I'm in the middle of dissertation writing and my professor sent me here to assist with a consult he landed because I'm local and his own research pointed here. Crazy coincidence, I thought."

A determined, grim nod follows when Anne tells her about the difficulty parsing between fact and fiction - and other facts. But a certain realization only sets in when the door is toed shut. Still, her pen starts scribbling the fact that the local history expert imparts to her - 1908 to 1910 ringed in blue, before adding a few notes. "Mishaps?" she asks, curiosity coloring her tone. "Like...workplace accidents?"

You've met the Archivist.

The pen stops scribbling. Slowly, green-gold eyes lift to meet Anne's striking blue ones. She's clearly derailed her, unable to keep it off her face. Lips part in astonishment. "I..." she begins, floundering for a few seconds. "...have. A few times, and yes, extremely different. Are you...wait..." Her brain starts to catch up, and those eyes grow wide. "You know the Archivist too?"

"Oh, yes, I'd like that," if Isabella mentioned Anne's interest to Clarissa. "That would be great. If you let me know the meeting time, I could probably see if it'll fit into my schedule." As for the dogs: "You could always come to meet mine. Smeagol and Gollum, my little Corgi loves," she beams brightly, like a proud dog-mama. The smile maintains as cards are exchanged - she takes Isabella's and fishes through a drawer for one of her own - before she points a thumb at the Oxford logo. "Oh, from Oxford. Prestigious," there's a low, impressed whistle, the comment genuine. "Did you like it over there? Patrick went to Cambridge, he spoke so highly of the school and of the UK, but.." Hmm, her nose wrinkles. "I've never really wanted to travel myself. Especially not that far away. It just hasn't really ever appealed to me." There's a quick shrug of her shoulders.

And perhaps she was going to launch into the various mishaps during the construction of the pond, but there were far more important matters to attend to. Like derailing the conversation with talks of the Archivist. "Sorry," she flashes an apologetic smile. "It's never really easy to have these conversations, you know? Like when is the right time to bring something like this up? I mean, I can certainly see that you glow, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you know about anything over there, and I sort of lucked in on this information to begin with," her nose crinkles up a little more, a quiet laugh escaping her. "I don't think anyone truly knows the Archivist. But yes, I've met that weird little creature many times. I think it's just the nature of the business." Pause. "But it was the Receptionist who mentioned your name. Among others. In passing, mind, and it was completely accidental, I just had an appointment after your lot, and I guess it went a little over," she explains.

"Absolutely, I'd be more than happy to," Isabella tells Anne with a grin, taking the other woman's card and slipping it in her wallet to input her information on her phone later. "Both to meet your corgis and invite you to a meeting." At the remarks about Oxford, she laughs. "I loved it," she confesses. "I still love it. Once I've obtained my degree, I'm sure I have a few decisions to make." The thought puts a more sober cast to her face, which changes when the other woman mentions Patrick; there's a bit of surprise there, but there's a more sheepish bent to it. "Is he a friend of yours?" she asks. "I...sort of set him on fire by accident at the Park because of some really weird candy." She can tell her this, now that she knows that the City Hall archivist is in the know, though mention of Cambridge has her expression taking on a more exasperated cast. "Ugh, I should have known," she says with a mock-groan. "I promise that wasn't deliberate, I didn't even know he was a Cambridge alumnus until today." The rivalry between the two institutions is very much like Harvard and Yale's - historic and persistent.

The apology has her shaking her head - and the mention of her glow only confirms that the woman is entrenched in Gray Harbor's weirdness, so there's no need to hold back. There's even a relaxation of her shoulders. "No, I definitely understand that. Honestly, you're only the third person I know who's met the creature, other than Byron Thorne and Alexander Clayton. So does that mean you work with...him? It? Often? Did you stop by during the same July the Fourth weekend we did?" Her notebook slowly closes in her grasp. "When I first got acquainted with Veil City Hall, I wondered how it was connected to this City Hall, other than the fact that they share the same location - whether there was a kind of...symbiosis between the two structures or organizations."

There's a quick flutter of lashes over frost blue eyes when Isabella mentions setting Patrick's pants on fire, her laughter sudden and happy. "Oh, you're the one who set his pants on fire! He mentioned it. And you, actually, just not together," she explains, "He brought me a bag of the candies that you all found. I tried one, and I couldn't talk, but there were speech bubbles and, well.." She trails off, her smile momentarily amused. Until the question about whether her and Patrick are friends. "We're ah.." she nibbles at the corner of her bottom lip. "Acquaintances. Ancient history, that." Are the apples of her cheeks slightly pink? Must be getting hot in this room from the door closed or something, it has absolutely nothing to do with that Addington. In fact, she says nothing more about him!

At least she has something else to talk about, and she latches onto the conversation of the Archivist like it was a life preserver and she was drowning in the ocean. "It, I think, at least I don't believe it has a gender," she points out, "But I wouldn't say I work with it, no. I mean we have a common ground, certainly, but really I'm just fascinated with the whole place over there. I didn't even know it existed until I started working here, actually, and I think it was all very happenstance. I was looking into something and the next thing I know, I had a voicemail that I had an appointment at City Hall. It was very confusing," she explains. "That was five years ago now. I go as often as I can, even if it's just to explore the other departments. Not the Other Departments Department, though that's a very interesting place to visit if you ever have the chance." She takes in a breath, there's a lot of dialogue here. "But I can tell you and I have at least some of the same interests. It's curious to me, too, the connections. As far as I've been able to tell though, it's.. like two cities, overlapping and interlacing," she laces her fingers together as a visual show. "Yet separate, too. Which is my point, about the Pond. The Gray Pond here doesn't have any caves or caverns, I'm absolutely certain of that. But the Gray Pond over there?"

She's a perceptive creature even at the worst of times, no matter how beaten, broken down, hospitalized or addled by a strange plague, so while clear-headed it would impossible for her to miss how the words ancient history seem to run so incongruously with how those pale, alabaster cheeks suddenly flare with color. She can't help but grouse, internally, at the sight of it, if not just for the fact that Patrick seems to be an overwhelmingly exasperating creature, while Anne seems sweet, bright, intelligent and an easy conversationalist - not that she could blame anyone in the end; the man was good looking enough to turn many heads. "Accidentally," Isabella supplies, the devil's own mischief dancing within the green and gold fields of her irises. "Accidentally set his pants on fire." Features palpably soften there. "Ancient history can be difficult to parse and piece together, too," she offers delicately - she does not have a photographic memory, but she remembers Anne's earlier comment about personal relationships. There's a wry twist in the line of her mouth. "But I think that's part of the draw, for me. There's always something to figure out, but while I've some degree of competence there, a good memory doesn't exactly help all that much with human connections, too. Like...remembering every flaw, every fight. But I think we can be content with the idea that nobody's actually good at it and whoever says they are is feeding the rest with a web of lies." Candy lies.

The shift away from Patrick Addington and his gilded (sandy-blonde?) handsomeness has the archaeologist attempting to suppress a grin, suddenly reminded of several very recent memories. "That's how I ended up there, too," she confesses. "Byron introduced me to Alexander, because he was looking into something and I suggested we go look at historical records of a kind. That eventually landed with the three of us with an appointment. I've ended up there around..." She counts with her fingers. "Four times, now, in the last few months, though in one of those visits, I didn't go see the Archivist, I met with the Exorcist with a few others. Have you ever met her? A woman, senior age, heavy smoker?" She falls silent, listening with rapt attention, about the other departments and how she's explored those, too. "The Exorcist was in the Haunted Department - so I always wondered if there was a Haunting Department? Where do you go if you want to speak with someone about voices you hear in your sleep?" She is reminded of what she heard - what had woken her up the night her mother died.

The same interests. She shifts a little on her seat, leaning forward - she even scoots in closer to the desk. "We do." And if nothing else, she looks relieved to find another who is. "Oh, god," she sighs. "That might mean diving to make sure - over there, unless there's some other way. Though if that's true, with the..." She mimics Anne's demonstration, linking her fingers together. "...things going on around here during Halloween, you think maybe there are times of the year where the...lacing...becomes a little tighter than usual? That things from over there might find its way here, and vice-versa?" She purses her lips. "I wonder if there's a way to...map...or chart out the differences between landmarks. If Gray Pond is that way over there, and City Hall is like that over there, I can't help but wonder - what's the Park like, for example. Is there even a Park? And what about the Church...that sort of thing. Has anyone ever attempted that before?"

"He.. moved away. Patrick did. Quite some time back. Like I said, ancient history," there's a quiet to Anne's words, another nibble to her bottom lip following as she shares this personal tidbit. "Some things are better left in past. It's just unexpected when your past runs into you with their grocery cart and you wind up smashing a lotion bottle underneath you and smearing the stuff down your skirt, and he claims to have a wife and five children and you realize that the timing of all of that puts it very close to other things, and then.." Oh, there's a wince. "Sorry." Ahem, she clears her throat. "As I said, ancient history." She shifts on her chair. It's quite clear that Anne could probably use a friend that isn't her dogs~

But yes, let's shift away from Patrick Addington and his golden good looks. "You met the Exorcist?" her blue eyes widen, and she looks impressed. "I haven't had a need, of course, but I've heard of her," she doesn't seem to mind Isabella shifting closer, a slight cant to her head as she considers some of the things the other woman is saying. "It's always been curious to me the way they name things. Did you notice the people over there don't always have names? They have titles. One day, I'll dig down to the bottom of why, but I've been far more curious of the how. Was there always here? You can look back into Gray Harbor's history and the weirdness is always so apparent. Ghost stories, suicides, homicidal maniacs. Tales of terror but of fantastical things, too. Mapping would be a good place to start, certainly," she agrees. "I don't think anyone's done an official map. At least, I've yet to set eyes upon it. I do know City Hall .. changes. It's always City Hall, but the way it looks is different depending on the day. Strange, that," she sucks on her teeth. "Why are you so curious about caves under the pond? I don't know if I'd necessarily want to dive down in there, to be honest. I've always suspected that some of the bodies that were found in the pond didn't die here. But our minds make up stories for the things that can't be explained."

Her attention doesn't waver, Isabella putting the spotlight of her persistent, relentless interest on Anne - not just for the words she speaks, but the nuances that strafe over her expression when she infers a relatively complicated tangle that is very apparent in its presence in current history nevermind its roots in the past. The apology has her shaking her head. "I'm...sort of new, about that stuff. I studied a lot, I traveled a lot, so for a while I didn't think I would ever be close to anyone outside of my mentor or whatever's left of my family. I'm definitely not an expert, but I don't think anyone is and one person can fumble just as badly as another, especially someone who can be really insensitive sometimes." She looks especially guilty there. "If anything, all I've managed to learn from my own experience with....history..." Let's keep using this term to keep embarrassment to a minimum! "...is that people are messy, that they're capable of doing bad things despite knowing that they're bad because they want to protect someone or protect themselves, and that the good ones eventually try to make reparations the best they can. If you saw him recently like you mentioned...I don't know. Maybe he's trying to do something like that?"

The title issue is brought up, and there's an emphatic nod - she's wondered the same. "There's the Archivist, the Exorcist...there's the Collector, also, and he, or she, or it is sort of the reason why I came to speak with you today." She lapses in a contemplative silence, considering Anne's questions carefully. "I'm honestly not certain," she begins. "You're a historian, if you look back, did weird things always happen here even before Gray Harbor was established? Before the Baxters decided to settle here, I mean? I ask because..." She hesitates. "I have a friend who's a member of the Quinault Nation and he mentioned that whole regions around this side of the Pacific are sacred land...and that's some very old history, too. He's been to other old places deemed important to the culture, and he told me that when he arrived here, that same or similar feeling was everywhere. I figured if you, or I, or we went back far enough, we might be able to answer that question." The potential quest lights up her eyes.

The idea of mapping has her shifting somewhat uncomfortably on her seat, though she attempts to make this casual. Her fingers drum restlessly on her notebook. "I've never been outside of Veil City Hall," she confesses quietly, a shiver running down her spine at the idea of being in the middle of the Veil's more open spaces. "Only inside, every time I went. What does it look like during the day, afternoon or night?"

She clearly doesn't want to dive in Veil Gray Pond, and it's evident on her face. "Believe me, that's going to be a very last resort," she groans, leaning back and tilting her head. "But unless there's another way in, I don't know how anyone would be able to get to them. And I'm curious because I received an account about the caves from an admittedly questionable source who provided enough verification that he might be a solid lead - I mentioned the Collector earlier? He tasked two people I know to recover a dangerous artifact for them, otherwise they'll be entered into their Collection. They're friends of Byron, who contacted me because they last saw this artifact in the reservoir and he knew I was experienced searching for things underwater and I may have the equipment or the know-how to help. But before any retrieval excursions could be made, I thought I'd do my homework first about the location itself."

Anne doesn't seem to mind the unwavering attention; at least, she doesn't wilt or try to distract. Still, the subject matter wasn't entirely comfortable for her. "I don't know if Patrick Addington has ever desired to make ... reparations," she says rather plainly, with a purse of her lips there at the end. "And I'm not entirely sure there's anything to make reparations to. We were just.. on two different tracks of life, I suppose. That happens, right? People just want different things. He didn't want to stay," there's a pause there, a light curve of her lips down to a frown, and she looks down at her hands. "And I didn't want to go. It's precisely what I told him the other day. He didn't hurt me any more than I hurt him, and he didn't look very hurt, so." She sucks in a breath, rolls back her shoulders, and tries for a smile that doesn't quite bring out the dimples. "I suppose I'm not hurt at all. Certainly not anymore. It's been too long to worry, and I've too much on my plate anyway. The last thing I need is .. that kind of entanglement." Pause. "But I could use a friend," and the bright eyes sent Isabella's way suggest that she's looking at Isabella for that, rather than Patrick.

"It is completely unfair though, how pretty he's become," she adds in a conspiratorial whisper, a soft laugh there at the end. "He was beautiful before, but he's very much like an aged wine. Do you like wine?" she looks hopeful there. Maybe they can find more commonalities.

And speaking of commonalities, there's the whole issue of the Pond and the various creatures/people of the Veil. "I've never met anyone outside of City Hall, but I've heard of the Collector. Whispers, really, nothing concrete. I hope your friend isn't involved with him, I've yet to hear a good story." She considers the rest carefully, shaking her head. "There's no real record of what happened before the Baxters came. And honestly, there's not really that many records of the Baxters at all. Gray Harbor's recorded history really all starts when the Addingtons bought the land from the Baxters. As for your friend.." Hmm. "That's news to me. Maybe the tribe has a different take on everything. It wouldn't be the first time people sought to explain the inexplicable and got it all wrong. You know, stories - written or otherwise - they get twisted and changed as it goes through time. Like one gigantic game of telephone!" She grins. Still, she leans a bit curiously, frowning at the talk of the task put in front of her friends. "I would be careful. If the artifact came from over there? It could have been twisted too. Things end up there from here, and they don't stay the same. They.. change."

There's sympathy there and a glance down at Anne's desk, because all of that isn't just understandable, but presents a certain and very realistic future look on her own situation. But this is brief, with the young woman lifting her eyes to meet those pale ones again - like frozen lightning, bottled in crystalline spheres; they are easily the archivist's most striking assets and they ensnare her attention as easily as iron filings gravitate to lodestone. Her hand slowly extends from her side of the desk, resting her knuckles on the wooden surface, palm up in offerance for Anne to take if she chooses - that, too, she can't help, constantly in search of the kind of connections that renders the yawning, empty space inside her smaller, or less noticeable. "I'll happily exchange my friendship for the low, low cost of letting me play with your corgis and not telling anyone about how embarrassing all of that is going to look when I finally do meet them," Isabella teases softly. "Deal? You'll keep my shameful secret, right?"

There's a very reluctant expression on her face at the conspiratorial whisper, replying, in a voice that is half-grouse and half-grumble. "Looking at him directly is like staring at the sun," she grumps. "And now that I know where he graduated from, I feel like an incredible traitor. No Addington who has a degree from Cambridge should ever be born that gorgeous..." She lowers her voice in a whisper. "...and I have a type. I'm obsessed with the complicated, difficult, intelligent dark haired ones, but even I have to admit that if there's any exception to be made to the rule, it's that one. As for wine..." She laughs. "I like wine, these days I drink stronger stuff but I like any excuse to drink so once we get you your membership to the Society, would you like to celebrate? I'll try to find a nice bottle of Brunello around here and we can grumble about how pretty he is."

There's a pause when Anne mentions stories about the Collector. "I've only heard about the Collection, and how he has...underlings. Treasure chests with teeth." And thankfully the other woman is in the know, she feels less insane for describing the mimics this way. "What do they say about him? And I'm not really...I'm actually not sure how they got involved with him. Just that they were tasked to find this thing or else. So Byron mobilized as many capable people as he could for it." Mention of the Baxters, though, gives her pause. "When I returned here a few months ago, I heard there might be some kind of curse. On the family. Members either keep dying or disappearing, and that no gravestone or anything of the sort were found marking their places of rest."

She pays rapt attention to the rest, because of course she does - between the two of them, Anne is the expert on the local history and she files these observations away. "...what do you mean?" she asks, finally, her frown visibly tugging on her mouth. "That they change?"

There's no hesitation in Anne's own reach, touching palm to palm with fingers wrapping to give a warm squeeze. "You have a deal, Miss Reede. And you've no fear, I'll keep your secrets close to the breast so long as you keep my own," she promises, her smile impish as she looks upon the woman. The talk of Patrick brings out her laughter though, bright and happy, as she lays her hand back into her lap. "At least he ticks three of the four boxes. Complicated, difficult and intelligent, but not dark haired. I've honestly never met another man like him." There's a scrape of her teeth over her bottom lip before she shakes it away, smiling once more. "I'd like that," the wine. "I have a nice little garden at my place. We could sit and drink and cover ourselves in puppies," she giggles.

As for the Veil conversation, Anne considers. "I've only ever heard little things, nothing ever concrete. But what your friends experienced sounds very much like the things I've already heard. Demanding, always on the hunt for one thing or another, he just wants to keep adding things to his Collection. Or.. people," she frowns. "I heard there were people that may have been 'collected' too. I just hope your friends are able to find what they are looking for with minimal difficulty, but it sounds like, if you have to dive into the Veil pond... well." She offers a sympathetic look Isabella's way. "I'll help where I can. I can do research. I can go over there and get whatever information I can. For this, or whatever else you'd like. As for the Baxters... I doubt it is a curse." It's the only thing she seems willing to offer, maybe it is the only thing she can offer.

Her brows hitch upward at the last part, the part of things changing. "I have no solid evidence, of course. Just from what I can see around the City Hall. I mean, it is very weird there. It's very different. I can't imagine things that go there and stay there could ever come back the same way. Not entirely."

"I'll be discreet," she swears solemnly, but with a smile.

"I know this very talented local botanist," Isabella tells Anne, returning her warm squeeze with one of her own before releasing her hand. "Field researcher, has a phD who spent his dissertation period studying biodiversity in the area of Mount St. Helen's pre and post-eruption, and every time he talks about plants, I can't help but be fascinated because I don't know anything about gardening. Like...at all. Some colleague gave me this cute little bonsai once when I was living in London to try and brighten up my cramped flat, but it died within a week. I'm hopeless. So I will happily sit with you and enjoy watching the colors turn in your garden while we drink some wine and talk about Patrick and his boxes, and history, ancient or otherwise, and everything else that we might have in common and all the things that we don't." She winks. "You're not getting away from me now. I have so many questions, like where you went to get your Library Studies degree, or how you ended up working for City Hall, and why corgis and..." So many questions. So many.

The more Anne continues about the Collector, the more her visible consternation grows. "You know, the first time I heard about the guy, I couldn't help but feel relatively apprehensive because with a name like that, it sounds incredibly sinister. I mean, collect what? But I heard...he added a couple of people, as punishment, but I didn't know he did that as a matter of course, also." Her eyes are wide, there. The offer of assistance softens her expression, she's never one to turn away aid, especially when it's a difficult undertaking and especially when she's not the most composed when it comes to the idea of exploring the Veil. "If the two of us can figure out a way to get to the bottom of the Veil Gray Pond that would be great," she confesses. "Figure out what those caves actually are and find an alternate route, there, maybe, if we can, without diving in. None of the others know how and if there's no other way, I'll have to teach them, but I think it's a bad idea and since you definitely know better than me about the state of things there, if you think it's a bad idea I'm definitely keeping it as a very last resort."

Her concern is more palpable now. "But...that does mean you going back there for research attempts. Do you typically go alone? Would you like me to accompany you when you go?"

She doesn't comment any further on the Baxters. The plate is full, but she is quick to take that into account, too, a flash of curiosity there. She doesn't press it, considering there are more immediate concerns. "That makes sense," she replies, about things changing. "I know when things are transported from there to here, it can have some very strange consequences. That illness...the flu? The one that's still going around, I think. Did you ever catch it? It came from there, but I don't know how or even in what form. But I've never actually seen anything shift or change because that's always been a dicey prospect, to me. Still..." She frowns thoughtfully, tapping her pen against her notebook. "That's interesting. I mean, the thing they're looking for was kept on this side for at least three generations, but I know it was once part of the Collector's collection. So I wonder if it was a different object, or had different effects entirely while in the Collector's possession, before it ended up here, and how much it's changed in the decades it stayed here, and how much it has changed again when it ended up back in the Veil."

There's quiet laughter at the talk of little bonsai trees in London and drinking wine in gardens. "I'm no green thumb myself, which is why I have a gardener come twice a month," she admits with a gleam of amusement in her shock blue eyes. "We can be hopeless together, and drink wine together, and you can ask as many questions as I'm able to answer. So long as you don't mind a few questions about yourself! I am quite curious of this Oxford education of yours." Her grin turns impish, though it doesn't stay for very long, considering where the conversation is headed.

"There are certainly a lot of questions that need to be answered. We should probably make a list, I think. We can organize it into buckets. Questions about the Veil, about the Collector, that sort of thing," she taps her finger to her lips before she turns to snatch up her tablet, flipping through some screens. There's a certain air vibrating around her now, full of energy and excitement. This was, after all, what she does. "I can start a Google doc and share it with you. We should be absolutely prepared before we head in there. Will our first trip be to the pond?" She hikes a brow, then shakes her head. "Think on that. We can check the pond and maybe try to see if the park is close by, like it is here in the real City. If there's another entrance into these caves, I bet we would find it somewhere around the park."

As for the flu, Anne gets just a bit pale. "Oh, yes. I had to drag myself to work the first few days, but I actually had to take some of my PTO. It's terrible, laying around in bed. Especially with the.. well. The Dreams," she crinkles her nose and shakes that thought away, tapping fingers across the screen of the tablet before she nods over to Isabella. "Maybe we should start with the gem itself. Learn about where it came from, who had it before? How did it get there, and how did it come back here? Hmm. So many questions! So little time," there's a sigh, before she frowns down to her screen. A pop-up is there, another appointment reminder. "But I think this is where we'll have to leave things. For tonight, anyway. Isabella," she reaches to take the woman's hand again, squeezing it if Isabella will allow. "This has been wonderful. Truly. I'm so glad to have met you!"

We can be hopeless together.

"Maybe that should have been my degree," Isabella says with a laugh, though everything else seems sound. There's a nod, her expression determined, though it's hard not to be taken up by Anne's enthusiasm - the archivist is a researcher and a historian, whereas the archaeologist is a researcher and an explorer. There's still the slight problem of trying to figure out what to do when she ventures into those wide-open spaces, and she is already thinking about getting a prescription from Vivian. Something to make her less a liability. "All of it sounds good, I'll add to that Gdoc and I'll share what I've got so far in it. As for the gem, itself..." She purses her lips. "I might know someone who can help...well, know of someone. I've actually never spoken with him but he was there when it first showed up and Alexander indicated that he might know more about it. I'll either ask Alexander to ask for me, or I'll ask him myself. Or maybe..." Her eyes gleam. "The two of us can pester him together."

Poor Carver.

"But yeah, absolutely. I'll keep you posted on everything, and I'll pester the Chairwoman tonight also about the Society meeting." She rises and with her hand taken, she squeezes Anne's hand back. "But it was an absolute pleasure to speak with you. We definitely have to do this again this time, even if it's just drowning in wine and watching your garden and being hopeless together." She winks. "I'll talk to you very soon and we can go exploring. Maybe the pond first, get the lay of the land, and then we can check out the park."

With a wave, and clearly exhilarated by the challenges to come, she heads out of Anne's office.