2020-02-03 - The Disappeared

The sun is barely lifted out of the horizon's burning line when two pairs of running feet hit the outside boundary of Addington Park.

The protracted winter has left their surroundings gray and bleak; mist rises in spectral threads from the ground, wreathing their environs and camouflaging faraway shapes. Snow and ice cling to cement, what remains of the Fall buried under heaps of wet slush, and yet somehow, the Park manages to maintain some of the beauty that it proudly displays in the mid-year. City workers have done their part, however, at the very least the running trails that wind through its rolling expanses have been cleared of frost.

Isabella has been running with Byron for a few miles now, with all of her usual enthusiasm that she normally demonstrates when engaged in rigorous physical activity, her dark ponytail swinging behind her. She has foregone the use of a knit ski-cap, replaced by a pair of fuzzy muffs to protect her ears from the cold, clad in a deep red runner's hoodie made for extreme cold weather, thermal leggings and shoes made for running in the same. The headphones she normally brings have been tucked into the belt fitted around her hips, carrying just the essentials - keys, phone and a small bottle of water wedged against the small of her back. Her gun is somewhere in the inner pockets of her outerwear, safety engaged and secured, braced against her ribcage by way of a shoulder-rig - these days, she doesn't leave home without it.

She seems to have much of her energy, but Byron can easily sense that something is off - it's no visible illness, and she seems completely healed from her prior toils. Whatever it is feels more like a metaphysical diminishing than anything, lacking a significant degree of its usual burning luster.

Her pace slows when they hit the grounds, adopting one that is more conducive to conversation; her aggravated breaths leave her in white puffs, curling from her lips. "I can't believe it's been over half a year already," she tells her childhood friend. "It doesn't seem all that long ago when I ran into you here, the first week I got back into town."

On meeting early that morning, Byron was in as high spirits as he tends to be. It was still dark and the air was cold and frigid and he may have made an idle complaint about the temperature, but that never stopped him from gearing up and heading out just to get his hear pumping and warm up his limbs for the exercise routine that follows this before he eventually showers and changes into his typical suit for the day.

Dressed in a few layers for the weather, but nothing overly bulky, he wears a long sleeved moisture wicking shirt beneath a sweatshirt and sweatpants combo with a hoodie thrown over it. His head is protected by not only a knit cap but also the hood from said gray hoodie. In the case that he needs to step out into any deep snow, rather than regular running shoes, his feet are decked out in running boots to help keep them dry. He's constantly packing too, so if he is toting some sort of sidearm, it's hidden beneath the hoodie somewhere. Black leather gloves encase his hands, one of which carries a thermos.

He was definitely more chatty when they'd initially met up, but once they hit the trails, Byron's in his own mental zone. Listening to some tunes on his Bluetooth headset, probably something rock or punk among other adrenaline pumping music, his mind is focused on several things that are going on in his life. This is normal for him, however, as he's always thinking about this or that business deal, who he needs to call next and so forth.

That said, he's often the attentive sort and while they don't come out to run together every day, they do so often enough that he is able to pick up some minor oddities even if he might not try to think anything of it. They were both living in Gray Harbor after all. Still, he also knows that she's being harassed by someone associated with Them. Once he takes note of her slowing pace, his own drops and gloved fingers remove the headset from out of his ears.

What she says brings on a warm smile, gracing her with a crinkled eyed smile before he casually lets his gaze roam the white landscape surrounding them. "If you were as smart as you'd led us on to believe, Bella, you'd be out of the city by now. Maybe after the first or second month." It's a bit of small talk for now. "That aside, you know I'm just glad to have you back. Even if we both could try to make better life decisions. I'm sure they could send someone else here to do your work."

You know I'm just glad to have you back.

There's something about the words, uttered so guilelessly, that both softens Isabella's features and feeds the guilt within her, lips hooking upwards in a smile as the two of them slow gradually into a brisk walk, to keep the heartrate up. The two of them are habitual multi-taskers, they can move and talk at the same time, though they might have to sacrifice some of their earlier speed in order to do it. Still, there's warmth that she couldn't admit to easily hearing that from this man, in particular - outside of her father, Byron Thorne was the person in Gray Harbor who knew her best.

"Maybe I'm just that amazing at pretending to be smart," the young archaeologist banters back. "Could say the same for you, though. I don't know if we're going to be able to split the world between us if we stayed here. But it's getting smaller and smaller, these days, with more and more people willing to stay up late, or get up early to meet international needs - even in my field, if you could believe it. If we were forever anchored here, maybe it's still possible." She pauses at that, and exhales a breath, white wisps escaping as heat meets the chilly air. "Not that I'm not getting some reprieve from the strangeness, soon. I'm heading back to the UK in a month to defend my thesis - maybe I'll be able to bring some good news back here. I'll only be gone a week, after that, though, I have some decisions to make. Anything you want me to bring back from London? Union Jack memorabilia? Stock tips from the few contacts I have in the Square Mile?" London's major financial heart.

She rolls her head back to observe the surprisingly cloudless skies - at least when one looks up, she can get past the gray and into endlessly blue skies instead, their crystal color reflected in her eyes as they move. "These days it's hard not to stick with any presumptions of intellect, though. Remember when I mentioned Yule Duchannes and him testing objects the last time I saw you? We tried, last week. It went..." She makes a face. "Poorly."

Isabella was right. If Byron were as smart as he tends to let out, he really would be out of here by now. Yet something was keeping him from doing so. Or some might think. Even now, rather than working to cut himself look from the town, he was digging even further in, grasping at a new business opportunity that had recently cropped up, but something that he hasn't mentioned too much of as of late.

"I don't need anything from across the pond, but I'll let you surprise me if you are feeling generous." He'll says with this soft grin spread across his face, dark eyes continue to gauge the always ghostly winter landscape, looking so pristine. There's not many people out at this hour, but there are a few early risers who are out to pick up a nice cup of coffee before opening up shop. "I am hoping that while there, you change your mind and plan on staying. I know that you have work to do here, Bella, but once that's done, I really am hoping that you get out of Gray Harbor. I'm sure Alexander will agree with me on this."

With their keeping to a quick and brisk walk, his heartrate retains a steady pace, but it's far easier to breathe, even if breathing in harsh, cold weather can sometimes burn at your lungs and nostrils. "Yeah, you mentioned that. So what kind of tests were you running? I mean, I am curious as to what he'd found out about the bile I found outside that crime scene at Sycamore, the supposed blood or something from a shadowy creature that escaped." Being told that these experiments had gone poorly, however, makes him take pause while he slowly turns his head in her direction, "What do you mean by poorly?" His suspicions rise, "Bella, what happened?"

"And I think you've known me long enough to know just how much I love surprising people," Isabella laughs, flashing Byron a quick wink. "I'll think of something."

There is more inscrutability on her expression as they walk briskly down the path, blood rushing through her veins at the continued exercise and the lines of her alive with conflict. She makes a quiet noise that bubbles outward into a laugh. "You know, you're not the first person the last couple of weeks that's brought that up?" she tells him. "If more people start poking about the inevitability of my leaving, I might start to think that there's some kind of community-wide conspiracy to get me out of here. And yeah, he would agree." Her voice turns a touch more vague and absent at that. "I interpret that as a sign that the both of you love me that much that you'd rather find me away from all the strangeness here, doing what I love." The thought sounds incomplete, however. There is a but lurking somewhere in those truncated syllables.

To say that there's no relief in her as they move away from that subject, however, would be a lie - she is not ready to make any decisions either way, not with so many other more pressing concerns. Passing her defense is certainly one of them. "He hasn't mentioned that," she says. "But I think Alexander mentioned you gave him some bits from a recent crime scene to have analyzed for Christmas." His pause has her stopping also, and at the dark-eyed and serious look, she turns to look at him directly. That sense of conflict in her only increases.

"The experiment," she begins. "Aimed towards trying to imbue ability-nullification qualities in an object - kind of like what happened in my houseboat and Addington House during its Christmas tree-trimming event. Only to condense it in something portable. It...I think we have something, Ronnie." There's both a worried and exhilarated gleam in her eye; she has always been an explorer by heart, and nothing makes her seem more alive than being on the cusp of a new discovery. "Based on our results, we know it is possible, and I have some theories as to how we might be able to steer it towards a practical application. However..."

She falls silent, but only briefly. "The costs are high, too. The effects of the experiment localized the nullification into our bodies, but with the object exploding after five minutes, we can't exactly examine it to see what went wrong, but I have a few ideas on it. Since it wasn't a complete success, it...killed our talents. Like how the summer flu affected us. Not sure if it meant the object needs to be whole for the effects to stay, but the weakening after-effect seems to take days. I think I'm still recovering, which is why..." She looks down at her fingers. "I'm a little weaker than I should be. More than I already am." The last said quietly.

The smile on Byron's lips hints that he had no doubt in his mind that Isabella would come through with this whole surprise thing and in fact, he figured she'd delight in it.

However, it's a short-lived smile for something spoken brings back memories of someone else, feeling so far away right now. "Vivian said something along those lines. About the people in town, while not making her feel completely unwanted, just, you know. How we tried to get her to leave for her own good." There's this moment of quiet for almost a minute, his gaze on Isabella for a few seconds longer before he asks, "Have you... heard from her, by chance? Lately?" He knows that Vivian tried to make friends with some of his, so there's a curiosity on whether Reede had spoken to her recently.

He will add, "I understand that you love your work, but your work doesn't have to keep you here. There are other wonders to find, incredible places to explore far away from Gray Harbor." This is then followed by a single nod, "Yeah, I believe that he was talking about the sample I'd given him. It spilled out from a fleeing shadow creature I'd seen at the, I think it was, murder scene. Read it was the third one in a series. Strange that I'm not hearing much chatter about it from the GHPD."

Then they go on to the experiment, there's a look of skepticism mixed in with curiosity in the expression which he wears when he looks at her. "You," The group as a whole, "Created or imbued an object with the power to create a nullification field?" He has yet to be able to conjure one up himself and as far as he knows it's part of his skill set. "What, does it blanket an entire room the way Peregrine was able to do? Did you experiment on a box that when you open it up, no one's able to use their powers?" He has a lot of questions. "I mean, are you trying to experiment to find ways in which items can take the place of our using our powers as to not draw the attention of the Dark Men? Is that what this is?" There's this shake of his head now, "Because if that's what you all are doing, I was hoping that you'd start with the Healers." So Lilith wouldn't need to use her abilities. They want to punish her for doing just that.

Then something that she says has him blinking and here he actually stops completely to turn to Isabella in full, "It localized the nullification into your bodies? Was that the intended effect? I mean..." There's yet another shake of his head, "I'm still not sure where you were trying to go with this." However, he also quiets briefly after this. "Great. We can get Roen or someone," Not Lilith, "To repair the broken objects and hopefully that will sort things out."

"Actually..."

Isabella's lips turn downwards in a thoughtful frown. "I met an old comrade of Javier's recently, former Navy like Dad," she replies. "He was looking for a referral to a psychiatrist and I mentioned Vivian. After he left my houseboat, I left her several text messages, and I tried calling last week. I haven't received a response, I just...I knew she was purchasing a house, and focusing her efforts on building a practice here, because she didn't want to leave her current patients on a lurch. We were even supposed to go out for drinks, one time, but I just haven't managed to reach her. I thought she was just busy, but..." There's a curious and now concerned tilt of her head towards Byron. "Have you heard from her recently? Even to just get her things, or...?"

Byron's observation about her work has her smiling faintly. "I know," she tells him quietly. "My work doesn't have to keep me here." There's a gleam in her eye - the look would be familiar to him, the one she gets when there's a burst of inspiration, or when she's about to kick someone's door down. But she doesn't continue on that vein, when he's talking about a strange murder. "Wait, third? You're right, it's weird that nobody's talking about it - though that does lean towards the idea that it's less mundane and more...." Supernatural.

She waits until her childhood friend finishes asking all of his questions, before she starts moving again, to walk with him through the park, and away from the other early-morning joggers and loiterers trying to get an early start to work. Her breaths continue to leave her in visible puffs. "The ultimate goal of efforts in this end is to eventually find a way to make that nullification effect you readers can do last beyond the twenty-four hour limit," she tells him. "Because Yule intends to move forward researching our talents and after what happened with our blood samples and now August's MRI with FCN, he needs to be able to store that data in a clean room that would be safe from not just other users, but Them. I was skeptical, at first, at the idea that They would be interested in our efforts there....but They are, B." Her voice drops lower, and more absent, her eyes taking on a more faraway cast. "They came for us, while we were vulnerable."

After a moment, she continues. "We can't move forward with other endeavors until we can find a way to keep the data safe, which is why we tried to do that first. But what ended up happening was....the object affected our bodies, but not the room. I'm certain that's what happened, because when They went after us, They were able to breach the testing site. They wouldn't have been able to do that if we were successful nullifying the room. So it leads me to conclude that we were successful in some degree in imbuing the object with the nullifying effect, but it was unstable, hence the explosion, and it only affected the bodies in the room. That could be useful in other ways, if we can perfect it. In the even that we come across another Billy Gohl in our misadventures here that we have to cut off from his powers. But it's just a stepping stone so we can start with more. I already gave him my soup, though. See what he can analyze from it, how we can plant healer abilities in an object and determine whether the methodology can be reverse-engineered."

She shakes her head. "The object was obliterated, I don't know whether August can put it back together, we'll have to start fresh if we want to try again, and I'm certainly not in favor of it until I have an actual sit-down with Yule and have a discussion, because failure on that scale again is incredibly dangerous. No sense in not learning from our mistakes, considering how big they were."

Listening to Isabella speak about this military sort seeking out the aid of a therapist, Byron's mind immediately jumps to PTSD even if he doesn't come out and say it. At the very least, the stresses of military life. So there's a few nods as he listens, though his mind is also thinking of something else which she might be able to catch from those distracted, yet intense dark eyes. "She... she took all of her things with her." It was that bad of a break. For now, he'll let this rest, even if the whole thing was still eating away at him.

So when the conversation returns to their experiments, the wariness at first seems to be dismissed. Even if it's clear that he doesn't like the outcome of it all. "Who said that those things lasted for twenty-four hours anyway? Could it be altered by the strength of the caster?" Look, he played D&D for much of his young childhood, he still uses terms like 'caster'. "I mean, if they got even stronger, would they be able to increase the duration of the nullification void?"

After some thought, he asks, "So none of you currently have access to your Talents? I'll assume that this doesn't mean that They will leave you alone now that the damage has been done? Not if you're trying to find a way to reverse the effects or continue on with the plan anyway." Dark eyes seem to be studying her and though they'd stopped briefly, he gestures for them to continue walking. At least a little bit. "Is that all that happened? Your powers were sapped?"

"What is it?" Isabella inclines her head towards Byron, seeing that distracted, dark-eyed look. It is nothing like Alexander's when he thinks, when life just snuffs out in favor of the more abyssal spaces of his incredible mind and making him look more serpentine than human, but she knows it for what it is. She nudges her elbow against his as he walks, prompting for it.

His question is a sound one, though. "No, you're right," she says after a pause. "I've never heard of it lasting for more than twenty-four hours, but that doesn't necessarily mean that couldn't be extended. So far, that seems to be the upper limit, but so far, Minerva and Hyacinth are the most powerful ones I've come across outside of..." Her voice trails off, though Byron would know immediately who she is thinking of when she does. "And they can't make it last for more than twenty-four hours." He can practically hear her adjust her thinking. "Might be that we'd have to monitor at least one of them and see if they do, but considering the newfound limitations we've experienced after Billy Gohl closed the door, if that is possible, I don't know if we'll be able to find that here in Gray Harbor. I heard from August that our old ranges are as vast and wide elsewhere, though. I'm about to test that when I go across the Pond. For all I know, Portland might be the outlier."

She also shakes her head at the last. "No," she tells him. "I can use my abilities...if I ever wanted to use them to begin with, but right now they're just weak. Recovering from the ordeal. Remember when it took us a full week to recover here..." She taps her temple. "When we all got the flu? It's similar, I think. The Talent is stitching itself back up together after what happened, and-- "

Is that all?

She kicks a toeful of snow away from her path, and she falls silent for so long, he can't be blamed if he thinks that she had forgotten his question entirely. Finally, her contralto pitched low, she replies, "Helplessness came with it, too. The sense that you're...utterly worthless. Ordinary. That no matter how hard you tried, you won't...amount to anything." Her jaw sets at the hinges. "They pretended to be Sid, while we were in there. They didn't really tell me anything I didn't already...surmise for myself. But They sounded like him, and They...felt like him. When Minerva hurt Them...it hurt me too. I could feel my skin burning. Just like it did when we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she takes a breath. "I'm trying not to dwell on it," she tells him. "The helplessness, the encounter, all of it. It's what They want, and need, and I'm not all that inclined to give Them either."

At the nudge to his arm, she might see the tension at Byron's tightened jaw right before he breathes in an icy cold breath to state, "The holidays just came and went and... Her parents called me. Said that they never heard from her during the holidays and can't get a hold of her. I've been pretty close to them when I was with Vivian, so they called me and inquired." Is there guilt to be found in his eyes, in his face? "It's one thing to avoid my calls and my visits and in truth, I thought she may have skipped town since she was never at her office. It's another thing for her not to keep in touch with her parents. God, Bella, I'm more than a little worried about her. Something must've--" He doesn't want to say out loud even if he's thinking it: Something must've happened to Vivian.

This is followed by another deep, chilling breath of air, feeling it scald his lung as he works to keep his composure level. "You mean, places like Port--" He's about to say when she adds to it. "All I know is I had no powers outside of Gray Harbor so even if ours are locked up and limited now, it's more than I'll ever experience if I ever left this place."

Most likely thoughts of Vivian's disappearance continue to plague him, but once Isabella brings up Isidore, Byron's steps come to a halt once more. He could brush off this feeling of worthlessness by telling her that there's nothing that should ever make her feel that way, but Isidore? His gaze becomes intense once more, "What did Sid tell you, Bella?" He's careful when he asks this, for it may be a terribly personal matter for her. "Magnolia's father is reaching out to us from beyond the grave too. Or something pretending to be him. I don't know if these things are related, doesn't seem like it, but it's what They do."

The more Byron goes on about Vivian and her lack of contact, the more Isabella grows ashen. Her green-and-gold eyes find his and for a long moment, she doesn't speak, her mind running through a gamut of possible scenarios and none of it good. This was Gray Harbor, its track record speaks for itself. "Oh, god," she whispers, before she jerks her face away from him to glower at the nearby snowpile. That detraction, however, is brief, and when she faces her friend again, her determined expression is back. "Okay. Okay. Before we fly off the handle on it, we should probably at least check her house first, and then ask her neighbors to see if they've heard from her. For all we know, she could have just gone away for a while and needed to be alone to sort her life out, she mentioned something about sailing off the second-last time the two of you had an argument."

That sinking feeling can't be denied, however, but she's doing her best to curb it. The guilt she sees though has her reaching out to curl her arm by the elbow, her fingers reaching for his shoulder and squeezing. "You tried to convince her to get out of here," she reminds him quietly. "Even while you were together. I did, also. For all I know, Alexander did, too. If the worst did happen, it wasn't your fault, B." Words sincerely meant, genuinely meant, but she is also well acquainted with Guilt - it has no regard for reason, especially when it involves a person one once loved.

She releases her grip on him slowly, and focuses on his next revelation. "What, really?" Her brows furrow as she attempts to parse it. "Not even...are you sure?" It bears asking.

The young woman would have continued walking alongside him, but when he stops, she does also, and when that dark-eyed intensity bears onto her again, she tucks her hands in her pockets, eyes finding a point past his shoulder. But never one to shrink away from a blow, she fixes her attention directly back onto her friend, to face his opinion, and judgment, head on. "That I left him," she says, pushing the syllables past her teeth; her low voice sounds harsh and frayed. "That I destroyed us." After a moment, she furrows her brows at him. "Wait, what about...Magnolia's father?"

Isabella can tell him that if anything happened to Vivian that it's not his fault and for the most part, Byron would agree with that. It doesn't make things any easier, especially since Vivian was new to the strangeness of Gray Harbor and from what he could tell, despite seeing the faint light within her, one that matched his own, her Talents had never manifested as far as he could tell. There's also: "She wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. She would have no business even coming to Gray Harbor." Unlike the rest of them who was born and grew up here and for whatever reason was lured back by some terrible Siren's Song, Vivian was an innocent and untainted. She was an L.A. girl who would never had known about this little town, Gray Harbor, if not for Byron.

"I should have sent her packing immediately. I was selfish as much as surprised at the time and maybe there was a part of me that thought it would all work out." Byron admits to his own feelings at the moment when she suddenly re-entered his life. He was single at the time, after all, and maybe there was a touch of loneliness in his life. "I'll ask around. I'd been told that she had her eyes set on a mansion on Bayside. Otherwise, I have no idea where else she may have been staying at, her office aside." He's grateful for her comforting touch, but his to-do list was even longer now, keeping him from smiling in appreciation.

Then again, much of their conversation gave them nothing to smile about.

All that Byron can say at Isabella's next question comes with a simple nod, "I'm pretty sure. All I know is I had no memories that I even had powers and this was in L.A. and..." His brow furrows trying to think back, "And anywhere that I'd gone since."

However, when he's told what Sid's accusation to her was, Byron's dark gaze quickly lift to stare directly into Isabella's eyes, his brow furrowed lightly. "But you didn't... I mean, what could you even do? Tobin stayed in town his whole life and his mother never returned." This time, he's the one attempting to bring comfort when he reaches with his free hand to touch her shoulder, never allowing his eyes to drift from her visage. "I'm glad that you understand that it was Them and not Sid. He wouldn't say anything like that. He wouldn't blame /you/, Bella. He loved you too much." That's something Byron is convinced of.

"But yes. I'm not sure if Alexander mentioned that I needed help digging a box from out beneath a white dog house on Elm, but Magnolia's father..." He can't help but shake his head here, "Someone posing as her father tasked her to do that. Once the box was retrieved, we found several cassette tapes inside. One of them had a recording, but even I'm not sure if it was Detective Jones or not, but it was to be played after his death. He told us how he'd disappeared. Why he disappeared. And that something," There's a narrowing of his eyes as he says this, trying to remember details, "I think, was trying to cross over here. Or was here. It's something we're looking into right now."

She knows it doesn't make things easier - Guilt is the monster that it is for a reason and it isn't just her that is under its thrall. "If I loved you in that way, I would have done the same, and no one would've been able to stop me, not even you." Byron is well-familiar enough with Isabella's disposition to know that to be true, and how. "People who allow themselves to love someone don't necessarily want to be safe or protected, B. In some parts of the world, it's the most dangerous thing a person can do...but it happens, anyway." And she isn't even speaking about the uniqueness of their small, but twisted town; she's an archaeologist, an explorer, she's traveled different regions of the world, and will probably keep doing so for the rest of her life in an attempt to follow the footsteps of Sir Francis Drake and Ferdinand Magellan. She is talking about cultural structures where society is so divided that people are judged and executed for loving the wrong person - and there are too many of that as it is for her liking.

He isn't asking her questions she hasn't asked herself a million times over, but she has never been a spirit to give up, and when she fails - especially when it matters - she is incapable of forgiving herself, incapable of learning how to let go. But at the touch on her shoulder, and when her childhood friend provides comfort, she flashes him a small smile. Somehow, she manages to do it, though something else fills her eyes the entire time he speaks....and demonstrates one of the many reasons why he is the only other person outside of her father who truly knew her brother. The only other person outside of herself.

It was the usage of the word. The too. He loved her too much. Not loved her so much, but too much. "He did," she tells him, so quietly, it's only the way the mists carry her whisper that Byron's able to hear the words. And it destroyed him. Words that she almost says, and in this moment, she feels the urge once again. To tell Byron, the way she had told Alexander, and her father, just recently. To tell him everything. To introduce him to the circumstances as to how they lost him.

But she remembers how that conversation with her father went, and her eyes finally drift away from his to focus somewhere on the middle of his throat.

That green-gold stare lifts again, though, when he gets into more detail about Magnolia's father. "He might've mentioned, but not the details," she tells him, her curiosity intensifying. "How and why did Detective Jones disappear, then? And what....something? A creature from the Veil?"

Byron could argue against Isabella's sound reasoning about what people do for love, he even has ideas to counter that, but rather than stand here and bicker about something that's out of their hands at the moment, he'll give it a rest. He doesn't look happy about the answer no matter how correct she may be.

"So don't beat yourself up over what some Dream or Veil thing tells you." This is a little bit of pep talk on his part. "If they really knew Sid, they wouldn't take this route." There is a pause if she wished to add something more, but like the way that he's feeling, there's some things that he might want to say, but now is just not the time to say it, so if he catches the look of hesitation on her features, while he keeps quiet watch on her, he won't ask about it.

However, when the conversation focuses on Nathaniel Jones and what happened to him, it takes him a moment to try and remember the details, "Detective Jones and his partner Detective Morgan were after some sort of killer. A murderer. Whoever this was went after them and in order to escape and protect Detective Morgan, Magnolia's father opened up a doorway to the other side. I... I'm not sure what this killer was, it could be a monster from there, sure. They're gone now," Which... has been a downer to Byron having learned that, especially knowing that others have missing relatives as well. "But this whole thing was like a voice from the grave warning us that whatever they were after, whatever they escaped from, might be headed back this way again. If it's not already here."

His words about her brother nearly causes her expression to twist further, but Isabella draws a deep breath and disengages a hand from her pocket, to rub against the back of her neck. "They'll do anything to sate their hunger," she tells him, in quiet agreement. "If we could only find a way to starve them out." By the way those eyes gleam, though, it's certainly a thought that has crossed her mind more than once - but she needs more information.

Instead, she focuses on Byron's words about the former Detective Jones, eyes narrowing further when the story unfolds; or at least, what Byron can tell her. "Magnolia's dad was a mover? And he..." She falls quiet, poring through everything that she has learned, and remembers, about Magnolia Jones. "...no wonder she doesn't like using her talents, either," she murmurs to herself. "Do you all have an idea as to what this thing might be? If you all need any help that I can provide, though, let me know?"

Starve them out

For a time once those words are uttered, Byron can't help but silently replay it over and over in his mind. "Maybe we don't let it affect us. The way you're doing right now. They'll keep coming. Keep making it harder for us. But then again." His shoulders lift into a shrug, "If not us, there will be others feeding them."

The cold air and light breeze has already chilled whatever sweat could be found at his brow and cheeks, but he' shifts the neck of his hoodie to help absorb some of the moisture protected from the air. "Yeah, he was. I'd forgotten just how bright Magnolia was throughout childhood. Like you and Sid, she used to use. I found it terribly fascinating because, well, I barely had a grasp of what I could do, only learning about my abilities when I was twelve." He then considers the question about this monster. "I honestly have no idea, but we were told that we should look into maybe old case files, so... for now, I'm leaving that up to Levi and Magnolia, but if they need my help in anyway, I'll stick my nose into their business." He then grins broadly, "Detective Jones was a good man. And sure, if there's anything that you can do, I'm sure we'll reach out."

He then stands there, looking Isabella over with a curious eye just as his hands undo the lid to his thermos and he leans in for a much needed drinks. Twisting the lid closed, he can't help but continue to almost stare at her, but more of a thoughtful way than anything odd. "Sorry that They were being assholes to you, hitting you where you're most vulnerable." He then idly stretches out his neck to one side, looking about ready to finish up that run. "Other than that, no other threats or unwanted visits?" He's talking Peregrine.

"Yeah. In the end, that's just a stopgap to an overall bigger problem," Isabella tells him after a thoughtful silence. "Father Daniel told me recently that the homeless problem is only growing in Gray Harbor. It got me thinking that maybe one surefire way to make that happen is to....I don't know. Encourage the entire city to make lives better for everyone else. More jobs, a better economy, a better public works program, support centers. Foster a real sense of community." Green and gold eyes turn sideways towards Byron. "And for that kind of thing, you're the best equipped out of all of us. After my talk with him and everything else we've learned...are learning about these things, I can't help but wonder if the reason why Halloween was so active was less because of the date and more because you were trying to bring something good on a large scale into the town."

She uncaps her own bottled water, reminded by his gestures that she has it, taking a thirsty swig, before capping it and stowing it back into the small of her back. "Alright, if the Jones twins decide to take it on by themselves...that's their prerogative. It was their father it took, after all."

There's a faint tilt of her head at his silent perusal, waiting quietly for the words to find the air, and when he finally speaks, she draws another breath. "That's what They do," she reiterates, stretching out a calf. "Honestly, if we didn't expect that sort of thing, that'd be saying something particularly damning about our learning curve." For a moment, it looks like she's about to say something else; in the end, she decides against it, and moves onto the next. "No. It seemed safe enough to return to my houseboat, really, but I asked Alexander if I should go back there and he was against it, though I think some of that is influenced by the fact that he likes that I'm living with him, and I like living with him, also. If nothing else, that's something we can reclaim from the damage Peregrine had done over Halloween."

She nods to the twisting path before them. "Anyway, what do you say? Another mile before we grab that coffee?"

"If what you say is true, then if we start up these programs to our less fortunate," Byron starts, quickly adding in, "Which I'm all for as you know, but doing something on a town-wide scale will only bring further attention from Them onto our town, right? To combat our good with bad. Even though," His lips upturn into a smile, "I don't know what good, aside from boosting the economy, the Masquerade Festival was going to be. We'll see if we can keep it up this year as well." Biting down at his bottom lip, his chin lifts to stare idly into the distance, "I might have a project to help with giving people jobs in town, but before that, a good work program could probably come in handy. Give people the skills so that they can land their dream jobs." He then comes out to admit, "Right now, however, I've got my fingers into too many pies. One's a pretty meaty pie at that. So I'm playing a bit frugal with my finances, but I'll see what can be worked out."

To the idea of Isabella returning to her houseboat, Byron clearly frowns at her. "I think Alexander's right. If you were to return to your houseboat, I'd feel a whole lot better if he or /someone/ were there with you. I could even send a guy over if need be." One of his security details. Something which Alexander had told him that he should have on him at all times since his own kidnapping...

"This is why I love running with you, you always have a good incentive waiting for us at the finish line." Byron says warmly, already looking to pick up his pace, starting at a light jog.