2020-04-27 - Microhistories and Veil Topography

Elias is seated up at the bar with a bottle of beer in front of him and his phone on the bar top next to him. He idly swipes out messages in reply to whoever he happens to be talking to while occasionally taking a drink, and watching people come and go. He recently got a haircut, because his hair is a bit shorter than it used to be -- coming to his chin instead of his shoulders, and he's dressed in a pair of jeans and suede shoes with a white button down and a dark green blazer on. He looks like he could be a college professor, though perhaps a little young for one. There don't appear to be any themed nights going on at the moment, just a regular night at the Twofer.

10pm on a late April Monday night. There's a flurry at the door as Harper nearly collides with a man who is exiting the bar somewhat drunkenly, headed inside, herself. Her ready laughter is easy to recognize, even from across the bar. "No, no. You wait for that ride," she tells the man in response to their exchange before strolling into TIBS with a surveying gaze. It seems so ... banal this evening compared to the last time she was here for country-western shenanigans.

She's wearing a black leather jacket atop a bold, diagonally striped top. The jeans that follow her legs are a friendly fit, with heeled, black, leather boots completing the ensemble. She looks equally ready for a motorcycle ride and a game of pool. But those who know her might suggest she's also dressed to read, to muster up a casual adventure, or simply in clothing she put on after she got home from work. Sketching a glance over toward the bar to check for Easton, she catches sight of Elias. With a smile that reads spontaneous intention, she heads in the direction of the bookstore owner. She'd have snuck up behind the man and covered his eyes, but he's half tracking the people coming and going, so that's no good. "This stool taken?" she asks him in an affable tone that reads as utterly genuine.

Whether or not Elias would have caught her is up for debate. While he is people watching, he doesn't exactly notice her until he sees the movement in his peripheral vision and glances in that direction. When he recognizes Harper, he smiles and shakes his head, nodding to the stool. "All yours," he says, inviting her to go ahead and take a seat. "Drinking alone tonight," he smiles, lifting his beer and wiggling it a little bit. It's about half-filled at the moment, but he's not in any particular hurry to drink it. "Long time no see. How's my favorite librarian?" In fact, the last time he had seen her was when they'd brought those bones back and she and Vyv had said they were going to destroy them.

Yeah... that plan certainly didn't go as they'd hoped. With the box o' bones. And it was Byron's fault. At least that's what Harper would say. Affectionately. While climbing onto the barstool, Harper touches fingertips to Elias' jacketed upper arm in an affectionate little pat. "Nice of you to save it for me," she replies. "Well, if you're drinking alone tonight, then aren't I rude?" She doesn't show any sign of offering to move away. "It's nice to see you, Elias. It's been too long. Catch me up. What trouble are you stirring up these days? And how can I help?" The bartender stops by and Harper orders a rum and coke with a pleasant smile and a 'thanks' when he moves away to get her drink. The librarian swings her animated brown-eyed gaze back to Elias and openly looks him over. "You look marvelous." For what it's worth.

"That's me," Elias says with an amused little curve of his lips, "Always looking out for the librarians." That's his story and he's sticking to it. "Terribly rude, interrupting my sad and lonely drinking," he agrees, though the smile doesn't agree at all as he lifts his bottle to her. "Join me. I can always drink alone and lonely another night." Though when asked about what trouble he's been stirring up, he smiles a little wryly and says, "Me? Trouble? None at all. I'm good as church mouse." Though after a moment or two more he says, "Aside from the usual -- gearing up to do some experimentation with Dreams, seeing what can be done to force entry into a Dream state, and potential control of the same. I'm not sure how successful it's going to be, and it will probably be dangerous, but.. that's never stopped me before." He takes a sip of his beer, then. He chuckles and says "You're looking good yourself," at the compliment.

Harper traces the thumb and fingertip of one hand along the edge of the bar in front of her without looking away from Elias, his playful banter sliding up the volume on her smile a notch or two. "Say it's not so. Lonely? Do I need to put on my matchmaker hat?" Because she'll do it. She might even do it if he asked her not to. "Consider yourself joined." Her brows tip upward as if the words were somehow more insinuative than they are.

"Bzzt. 'Church mouse' was more than a handful of steps in the wrong direction. But thank you for playing, Mr. Weber." Experimenting with Dreams. Color Harper fascinated. Her vivid warmth would seem artificial, except it so doesn't. "Do you take others along on these experiments? What are you testing for this time around?" Her drink arrives and she reaches for it with nimble fingers after sliding a twenty toward the man serving her, drawing the glass closer without lifting it for a drink just yet. She's distracted for a few moments, so the compliment has a delayed reaction. "Oh." Pause. "Well, thank you. I think I like Elias-compliments."

Elias smiles a little wryly and asks, "Is that one of the services that the library is offering now-a-days?" There's definite amusement in those dark eyes. "I consider myself well and duly joined," he nods in agreement when Harper settles in next to him. "What? You don't see me capable of being a church mouse?" He feigns a look of innocence at her that is not in the slightest bit convincing. "They're not my experiments," he admits. "They are someone else's, and they are bringing me, rather than the other way around."

With Eleanor stuck at Espresso Yourself dealing with a missed shift, August finds himself with time to kill. So he indicates he'll come get her from work when they're closed up, and in the mean time heads to TIBS.

He comes in, allowing a trio of college kids arguing about who's calling an Uber to stagger past, heads towards the bar. He's moving easier now that Erin's healed him up, if not at ease internally; she can't erase what actually happened at that pageant of Theirs, after all. Today was a work day, so he's in a black, white, and red plaid flannel over a black tee, denim jeans, and heavy hikers. It's still Spring, so nights are remain chilly enough that he's got his black suede jacket on as well.

From the back room comes a new figure to TiBS. Vic Grey only recently started bartending for Easton, and she's there irregularly at best. She carries out a crate of clean glasses fresh from the dishwasher and sets them down behind the bar before wiping her hands off on a towel slung over one shoulder. She's in a heather grey tee with smurfs on it, jeans, and tac boots, and her hair is let loose in waves that are somewhere between light brown and dark blonde. She peers at the patrons with cold blue eyes before slapping a coaster down in front of some touristy looking guy and setting a beer on it. He ordered a martini. One look from the tender and he doesn't argue about it.

Harper traces a fingertip absently around the rim of her glass as she regards Elias, her demeanor warm and inviting even without the smile, those brown eyes perceptive and perhaps searching just the slightest bit. "I wouldn't say it's a library offering. It's just an entertaining coincidence that I work in a library and I also do my best to ease the lonely hearts of my most favorite Harborites." Take that how you will, Elias. The man tells Harper that the experiment isn't his. "Is it a super-secret experiment, or are you going to tell me about it, Elias?"

The librarian's attention flickers from the companionable conversation with Elias toward the door to follow August as he moves into the space of the bar. She recognizes him from ... somewhere. Maybe just where that was will occur to her at some point. He nears where she and Elias are settled on barstools and she lifts her glass a bit higher than necessary for taking a sip, a little toast of a greeting. "Evening," greets Harper pleasantly, then she sips at the sweet cola with the slightly warm roll of the rum mixed with it. As for Vic? Harper remembers the woman without even knowing her name. She casts a sidelong look her way with a bit of a spark lighting her brown eyes. Back to Elias.

Elias gives a nod of greeting to August when he recognizes the man, "Evening." There's a glance over toward Vic, studying her for a moment or two, and then his attention turns back to Harper. At least he'd gotten what he'd ordered, so he has no complaints. He chuckles at Harper and says, "Ah, so more of a personal pet project?" he asks. "And how is that going? Have you had many successes?" Though when she asks about the experiment he says, "It's not really mine to talk about in detail. Though I'll ask if it's alright to talk about it more with others." Not right now, perhaps, but at some point.

August reaches the bar, eyes Vic. He knows better than to order a black and tan from an untested bartender. "Lager, please. Whatever's on tap." Which is usually Sammy, but maybe Easton got something different for a change. (As if.) He gives it even odds he'll wind up with an IPA or a stout. Makes a personal bet it's the IPA, and if it's a stout, he'll owe Easton another shirtless contest.

"Ms. Price, Mr. Weber," he says, dipping his head to each of them in turn. "How's the library and book store doing? Anything new and interesting in for me to check out?"

August is a wise man, ordering something from the realms of 'beer' or 'whiskey' as those seem to be the two things Vic is willing to sling. She draws him a Sam, and sets it on a coaster in front of him with the same stony expression she always seems to wear. The tall woman wipes her hands again on her bar rag then wipes the countertop down with it. Not very talky, this one.

Harper slides her glass back to its napkin atop the bar as Elias asks about her informal profession. "I don't know about 'project' so much as it fits my wheelhouse nicely." The playful inquiry about her success rate earns him a solemn-but-sparkling Look. "I have an excellent record. Why? Do you require references?" The experiment isn't his to discuss. Harper quells a hint of disappointment. "I'm serious, Eli. If your friend feels like playing with others, I'm interested. Do you still have my number?" Don't make Harper commandeer your phone, Elias.

She tips her gaze back around to August, settling back further on her stool and crossing one leg smoothly over the other as she makes it easy for Elias to look past her to August. "Mr. Roen," she replies with an easy smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again. And in a place I feel so much more ... competent." Harper goes so far as to offer the man her hand, arching a brow just so. "Anything interesting at the library? You're asking the wrong woman if you think there's any answer but a vehement 'hell, yes!' volleying back your way. Name your poison. I'll mix it so very nicely."

"The shop's doing well," Elias says to August as he leans back in his seat just a bit, letting his elbow drape over the back of the chair. "That would depend on where your interests lie, more specifically. If you let me know, I can let you know if I've found anything that would suit." He idly watches Vic to see what it is that August gets in the way of a drink, and smiles just a bit crookedly when he gets his Sam.

He then chuckles at Harper and says, "Yes, I do in fact, require references. If for no other reason than that I am deeply curious." He nods about the experiment though and says "I'll talk to her. If she's interested, I'll let you know, or send her your way, or both. And of course I have your number. Do you think I'd delete you?" One brow arches upward, as though daring her to say that she thinks he might.

August loses his own bet with himself! Well, Easton gets another chance to get his shirt off in public, looks like. This is what hanging out with him and Itzhak does: encourages public nudity. "Thank you," he says, raising the glass to Vic and having a sip. He pays, tippig generously, settles himself against the bar at an angle.

He returns Harper's handshake, his grip firm and friendly. "Ah, new and interesting, I know you've got all kinds of amazing stuff in there." He sips from his beer. "Right now I'm into microhistories. And particularly in your case," he raises an eyebrow at Elias, "old ones. I love finding old books about niche topics, even if half the information in them is outdated." A pause, and in a sign he was sort of a little listening to what they'd said before, "Project? Tell me you're not totally redoing the computers again, Ms. Price."

Vic shoves the tip into the pocket of her jeans and rings the beer up in the till. She gives a slight grunt to the guy. That might be a thank you. Probably not. She goes back to serving customers whatever she feels like at the moment.

Some amusement teases across Harper's expression as Elias -- her competition in some less important ways -- answers much the same as she did. The camaraderie is apparent between the bibliophiles. Vic also earns another measuring bit of a gaze from Harper, but she's never been introduced to the saturnine bartender. So another curious look is all the librarian offers just now. To Elias: "Alright. My most recent triumph was Jessica Flores. You might remember her from high school. She's head over heels. And I'll proudly take credit. For all of that." She circles a fingertip in the air to indicate the nebulous 'all of that'. "There's also a lovely woman named Noreen. She's a Number One Ladies' Detective Agency devotee. She and Ralph hit it off over in periodicals. That was all me." Harper tips her brows up. She could go on, the look promises.

Microhistories? Harper's demeanor slides down the scale to librarian-with-a-purpose as she looks back to August and continues to shake that hand. "Off the top of my head, have you read Salt, Broliology, Stiff, or Consider the Fork?" Because you don't tease a librarian with genre interests and watch the topic float away like a lost balloon. Still, none of her suggestions are so very dated. She'll have to dig around a bit to directly address August's literary proclivities.

Harper finally releases August's hand after holding it a bit too long as her exuberance gets the better of her. "Oh no, no. The project isn't mine." A weighted glance to Elias. Neither is it her secret to tell. "And don't even make me think about the computers." The computers never get the funding to upgrade from their painfully slow, outdated speed. The wi-fi in the library, however, is quite satisfactory.

"Unfortunately, we don't really deal in old books," Elias says, "That's more Memento Mori's niche." Likely Stories is not unlike a Powell's or Barnes and Noble in the fact that it is all modern recent new books, not antiques, used books, or old ones. Only the metaphysical/occult section on the second floor even has any books that appear to have any age to them at all. "But if I do hear of any, I'll be sure to let you know. Or if I see any while wandering through Memento Mori." Because he too, likes old books, when he can find them.

When Harper takes credit for Jessica's head-over-heels state, Elias can't help but chuckle and say, "Well then, that clearly qualifies you. Perhaps we'll have to discuss this after all." He takes another sip from his beer and then watches as Harper puts on the serious librarian face to answer August's question.

August coughs a laugh at Harper's list of her successful matches. "Have you been setting up your patrons?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he's hearing, but, it is Gray Harbor.

He listens to the list. "Consider the Fork yes, but not those other two. I'll look those up." If he's off put by the hand-holding, there's no sign. He's too focused on the books and the match-making stories. His hands are calloused and seamed from years of working with them, bearing more than a few scars.

He nods at Elias. "Yeah, I wander through there pretty often. And thanks, I appreciate it." He's relived to here the library's not going to be dismantedly for computer 'upgrades', but looks askance at Elias, plainly curious, as he has a drink of beer. "Got a project going on, then?"

Harper regards Elias with a fond smile as he clarifies what his niche is and is not. Old books? They're right up there with fine wine, comfortable jeans, and a perfect kiss. She reaches once more for her drink and takes a slow sip, licks her lips, and considers the ice cubes for a moment. "Perhaps we will," this to Elias.

Has Harper been using the library as a vehicle for playing Miss Lonelyhearts? "I wouldn't say so much that," she replies slowly. "-- as I complete circuits now and again. If that happens to occur in the library? Well, it's just a delicious coincidence." She adds with a slow-curving smile. "Perhaps my role is more as a guardian so that inevitable romantic collisions don't scandalize my books." Go ahead. Tell Harper the books aren't hers. She announces quietly as if it were a ten-o'clock-and-all's-well, "The library is a watershed for intense entanglements." And likely no one else in town feels that way.

"Or I can look them up for you, Mister Roen. It's really my pleasure to do so. In the meanwhile, I'll see what we might have on hand with a more vintage publication date." She quiets, really gets a leash back on herself, as August asks about Elias' project. She's interested to hear what the man will share.

"It's not my project," Elias explains to August when asked. "It's a friend's project, regarding some experimentation with Dreams. I'm not certain that there's any secret to it, but it's really hers to talk about if she wants to." He lifts his beer and finishes off the remainder of it, setting the bottle closer to the inside edge of the bar in a signal that he might want another for whichever bartender happens to be nearby. He seems content to listen to Harper and August talk about microhistories, though, perhaps making a mental note of the titles, himself.

He can't help but smile in amusement as Harper describes the library as a hotbed of entanglements. "I've found that most of my entanglements have come a bit loose lately," he admits. "Not.. entirely, but enough that I've just been feeling it." He shrugs his shoulders slightly. "It will pass, I suspect." Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't.

August mmmmhmmmmms at Harper's claim that her circuits 'just happen' to occur in the library. "I'm sure, Ms. Price," he says, voice low, and has a drink of his Sam Adams. "Given what I keep reading about happening in libraries lately I'm not sure your average patrons could scandalize the books." Especially books formerly from University libraries. "And I'm happy to have you do that if you wouldn't mind, thank you kindly."

He tilts his head at Elias, blinks. "Dreams? As in, ah..." He makes a vague gesture, like that will somehow telegraph 'Glimmer'. Realizing this might not be clear, he adds, "The constructs They drag us into? Or, you know, just plain old lucid dreaming." Which sounds like such a bizarre thing to say, and yet, here they are, Glimmerers all bright as can be.

Ah, the mysterious and intriguing 'Project'. Harper regards Elias for a longer span of moments than is strictly comfortable for some in the midst of the volleys of a social conversation. She stirs herself and tells the bartender, "I've got the next round." She'd have to finish her first drink for it to officially be a next round, but that's quibbling. From the pocket of her jacket, she pulls a small leather wallet that's only large enough for a driver's license and a credit card or two and puts one of the latter on the bar, sliding it with two light fingertips toward the 'tender's side of things.

Elias' personal revelation tics Harper's attention back his way. "I've got all sorts of remedies for that state of affairs, Eli." She reaches over to graze a knuckle against the man's jacket sleeve, a promise, or a reassurance, or simply someone who hears the words for what they are. "It's the nature of time," she agrees. "It passes. Sometimes it just seem longer than we'd like."

August's slow agreement teases an amused smile from Harper. "Oh, now, Mister Roen. Two things." She holds out a finger. "First, it's 'Miss Price'." What woman corrects a 'Ms.' in this day and age? Another finger. "And second, "You hardly know me well enough yet to use that tone with me." Yet.

Laughter plays behind that amiable, brown-eyed gaze. "Other libraries might be the Wild West, but I assure you mine is more like a free-spirited nirvana, a slightly mildewy Shangri La, a Bohemian-yet-bookish love affair. But never, never off-putting." She amends, opening her mouth and pausing before she adds, "Unless you like your libraries hushed and traditional. Then I take it all back."

August asks Elias for clarification and Harper follows the query back over to him with lifted brows, nodding slowly. Plain old lucid dreaming? Harper might not even believe that exists in the reality of Gray Harbor.

"The constructs, yes, specifically, and how lucid dreaming may relate to them, as well as other potential attempts to influence them," Elias says, allowing that much, but uncertain how much is for public knowledge just yet, given that they haven't even really begun. "It's likely to be dangerous, since I suspect attempting to mess with them is likely only going to attract attention." He doesn't seem daunted by that fact, however.

He smiles a little amusedly regarding whether or not books might be scandalized. "Do books blush, I wonder?" He chuckles just a bit as Harper goes on to describe the bohemian-yet-bookish love affair that is her library. He makes no further comment on it though, dark eyes amused as he takes up his second beer and takes a swallow from it.

August raises his half-finished lager to Harper in a thank you for the offer. "You're too kind...Miss Price." He accepts the correction without a hitch; he's happy to address anyone how they want to be addressed. The chiding about his tone gets a soft sigh and forlorn expression. "Well maybe we'll get there," he laments, and ahs more beer.

The confirmation from Elias gets a grunt from August. "Dangerous, definitely," he agrees. "But, all of it's dangerous, let's be honest with ourselves." But he'd think that, given how often he's in them. He turns over the idea of influencing them in his mind, presently nods. "Sounds like something worth looking into. I kind of suspect, based on some of my own experiments, that we can...shape the Other Side. Seems reasonable the Dreams would follow a related principle."

A soft laugh and a shake of his head, then, "I like my libraries full of interesting books. The rest is open for debate."

Constructs and lucid dreaming. Harper gets distracted from her bookish rant with a longer drink of her rum-and-coke. "That sounds treacherous and charming," she finally opines in an odd combination of descriptors. "And of course it will be dangerous." It just might please her that those words come on the heels of August's similar comment. The thought of blushing books pleases Harper, if her musing smile is any indication.

"Too kind, you say?" Harper toasts August with a clink of her glass to his mug. Maybe they'll get there. "I'm optimistic," the librarian replies after finally finishing off her drink and sliding the empty glass a bit toward the other side of the bar with a delicate, precise press of her fingertips, thoughtfully taking in August's philophical foray into the nature of the Dreamscape.

"Your priorities seem well placed, Mister Roen."

"Gray Harbor is dangerous," Elias agrees as he leans forward against the bar, his arms folded on the surface lightly. "By staying here we accept a certain degree of risk. By poking the bear, an even greater one. Hopefully the knowledge gained will be worth the exploration." He then asks, "Shape.. the Veil? The other side that is.. closest to the material, physical world, you mean?"

"Treacherous for sure," August confirms, rubbing at an eye. "Charming, not in my experience. But I imagine some of them are." He dips his head to Harper, noting, "I like optimism. But," he thinks of Alexander, "I'm sure a few people could say things about my priorities. I like to think they're in order. So, thank you."

Speaking of knowledge being worth the risk... August tilts his head. "Not sure what you mean by closest to the physical world," he admits. "But this was in Firefly Forest. I chalkmarked a tree to note our path, and when we went back there again, all the trees had chalkmarks. That and some other things got me to thinking that, Over There, it's not all distinct things. Those trees are individual trees. They're a part of the whole Veil. So if you change one, you change all of them, and the Veil itself." He pauses there to see if that makes any sense at all.

Harper quiets for the conversation between Elias and August, her attention skipping from one to the other and back again. Eventually her empty glass is replaced with a full one. She murmurs a quiet sound of gratitude and continues to listen. When August speaks to his priorities and others' opinions of them, Harper smiles. "I'll look forward to measuring them more thoroughly." From another woman, that comment might be flirtatious. From Harper it's simply honest. The story about the marked tree-turned-trees earns August a side-eyed, measuring look. Does it make sense? The librarian back-seats the conversation at this point, tracing a fingertip against the cool curve of her glass.

Elias listens to August with interest and ponders what he says about Firefly woods, and that seems to both puzzle and interest him as he considers it. "Well the Veil is.. there's some reflection of here.. there. Like you said, the trees in the woods, and the trees in the Veil.. they're sort of reflections of places, or near to places. But the Dreams.. the constructs.. they're not connected in that way. Like, you can't step through a thin spot back into a Dream the way you could the woods into a similar spot in the Veil. It's as though the..." He holds one hand flat, and then another on top of it," .. Veil kind of overlays, but not exactly.." He spreads them apart a little, leaving his fingers together on the bottom hand, but splaying them on the top hand. "But the Dreams.. " he just wiggles his fingers even higher, "They don't seem connected at all not in a way that you could travel through."

"I'll try to make sure you get opportunities to," August assures Harper. Maybe he even means ones other than when Easton cons him into a bet and he loses, and thus has to go around the bar shirtless.

August's eyebrows go up at Elias' description. "Oh!" He nods. "Right, I see what you mean. In fact I'm starting to wonder if..." He pauses, bites his lip. "So, I know they used to be able to go Over, in Portland. But when we went down there for a trip, to talk to some people, just after burying Gohl?" He shakes his head. "Second we tried to cross we wound up in one of those constructs. So I kind of wonder if it's not more like, the Dreams are a kind of...temporary space, or if they're like boats or rafts on an ocean. So they can come on by and scoop you up." He sighs. "If they are, that'd mean trying to leave one could be more dangerous than exiting it when They want you to--no gangplank and not guarantee of a harbor. But I guess there's only one way to find that out." He finishes off his beer, orders a shirley temple.

Elias looks thoughtful as he listens description of what happened in Portland, and he props his chin on one hand, expression going a little unfocused as he mulls this over with what he knows from his own experiences and others'. Finally he nods and says, "Could be. I recently met a traveler, who moved between Dreams. I traveled with it for a while, from one to another. But it couldn't cross back into my home when I arrived there. Still, it seemed able to move between them, but it didn't know where it would end up, either, so it clearly didn't have any better way of actually navigating them, even if it could move between them." He taps his lips with one fingertip and says, "It's fascinating, really." In a scary sort of way, but fascinating still. He then glances over to Harper, realizing that she'd gone quiet while they'd been talking and says, "Sorry. I get wrapped up when I start theorizing." He smiles apologetically to her.

From in her pocket, Harper's phone chimes. She pardons herself and pulls it out to read a text. With a startled expression, she looks up, reaches for the credit card already charged for the round and tucks it way. "Please excuse me. I have to deal with this." She reaches out to press her palm for a moment or two on Elias' shoulder, then turns a faint smile on August and playfully salutes him with two fingers to her brow. And with that, she slides off her barstool with a little hop to the floor in those heeled boots and moves purposefully toward the exit.

August gives Harper an up-nod as she heads out with her phone, accepts his shirley temple and has a sip. He listens while Elias tells him about the traveler, frowning in a thoughtful manner. "So it could hop, and be sure it would land somewhere, but not control where." He mulls that over, then, "Anne mentioned something about how trying to open a door out of one might just lead us deeper down a chain into more and more, so far we'd never get back out. But maybe this traveler wasn't using the doors our movers do. Which," he points at Elias, "is something to keep in mind. Opening a door while in one of those things could be incredibly dangerous. I mean, more than the usual."

Elias nods "That's what it seemed like. I encountered it in a place where these strange children guarded a lot of keys. The keys seemed to open doors, though it didn't matter what door you put them in. The key would take you somewhere. We traveled through the door that it used its key in, and explored the place beyond, but things got dangerous there, so we used the key that I'd acquired, and it took me back to my home.. but where it went? I don't know. So in that case, it seemed like it opened.. something, but there was no guarantee where you'd end up, or even if you walked through the same door with someone that you'd both end up in the same place." He nods about what Anne said and says, "I didn't actually try to open a door from the Dream, myself.. not using my own abilities. I used the key that was within the Dream. It's possible that we could go .. anywhere. Further down the rabbit hole into Dreamception? Possibly. Or anywhere.. since I can't figure a way of mapping or even knowing how far anything is or if that concept even exists... I can only speculate."

August scratches his beard, shifts on his barstool. "Hm, so it was traveling using the Dream's own logic, maybe," he says, drumming his fingers lightly on the bar. "It could be the movement power would...disrupt? the construct. Make a hole in it. Like punching a hole in a boat." His eyebrows go up to indicate, 'as we both know, that's bad', back down. "But if you use the Dream to move--like a rudder, or getting into a lifeboat--then maybe it's...well." He smiles, wry. "I won't call it okay. Workable, though, it could be. If us doing something over there effects all of over there--changes it, shapes it--and They're from there, and these Dreams are Theirs, maybe this applies too." He points with his glass. "But Over There also seems intent based. I tried a graft, on a tree, and it...tried to do what a tree graft would do. But it went a little sideways." 'A little'.

"A graft from where to where?" It's not that Elias wasn't listening to the rest of what August was saying, but he latches a little bit onto this last part. "Did you try to graft something from here into there? Or something from there into here?" Because that's a very important distinction as far as he is concerned, "And by a little sideways.. how sideways are we talking? On a scale from.. I got the wrong color of leaves to the plant grew horrifying thorned tentacles and tried to eat me and everyone around me?"

"From here to there. Small sprig of Sitka spruce onto the closest looking thing I could find in Firefly Forest Over There. My thought was, if it went completely apeshit, well," he shrugs, "at least it's over there. A little more contained, relatively speaking."

Then August blows out a breath and coughs a laugh, bitter and rueful, shakes his head. "Good thing I didn't do it over here, because..." Which sure sounds like he means the later.

Eventually, he says, "It spread. Or...copied itself, I'm not sure. The trees actually have sentience, and it poisoned them, made them more than a little pissed off." He sighs, shrugs with resignation. "We got it sorted, but a lot of people got hurt who didn't need to." No need for the mind Glimmer to know he regrets that a great deal.

Elias listens and then blows out a slow breath as the story evolves. It's not that he didn't expect the result, though the thing copying itself beyond where it was originally grafted seems to be news, his eyes widening just a little bit at that information. "Well, shit. That's.. concerning. Interesting, but concerning." He rubs his face, "We already know that bringing stuff from there to here is a bad idea."

August mmmms around a drink from his soda. "Yeah. I won't lie, I'd love to try some botany experiments with pollen or the like, but, I expect it'd just result in Triffids or something." He grimaces, echoes, "Concerning. And it implies a lot of things I hadn't thought about."

He puts an elbow on the bar rests his head on his hand. "So, a graft is meant to join two parts of something. Not mingle them, but fuse them. That's what this did--it fused the donor segment to the Veil tree. But," he leans in a little closer, taps on the bar, "and this is why I think everything Over There is the Veil--the graft piece joined the Veil. Fused with it. Which is the intent of a graft. Except, if the tree is just an extension of the Veil, well..." He gestures at what follows from that. "At least, that's my working theory."

"But if the veil tree was a single entity in the veil, then it shouldn't have spread to other veil trees. That it did spread to other veil trees indicates a connection between what are not true individual things in the veil, but instead an interconnected whole, as though it were some kind of living, breathing, whole all of its own," Elias says, thoughtfully as he considers the implications of what August explains about the grafting and the trees. His own beer is forgotten for the moment as he mulls all of this over.

"Right. So, if we work off that assumption--which, at least until we're willing to confirm it more, is an assumption, but I think a pretty solid one--then that could mean anything we do over there, is changing there. Not just," August waves a hand, "a given tree over there, or spot on the ground over there. There. The whole thing. And," more bartop tapping, "the reason I think that, is Gohl. When we buried him, remember how our reach diminished? At first it was only up here. Once we left Gray Harbor, we had it back, down in Portland. Now?" He sits back up, opens his hands. "Down there is like here. Same reach. So, what if that's what he did? He changed Over There, here, and it propagated--just like the graft?" He arches an eyebrow. "Something to think about."

His phone chimes in his pocket, and he tugs it out. "Ah. Ready for me to come get her." As Harper is still on her call, August tugs out a bill and leaves it on the bar under his glass. "Thanks for letting me harass you, Weber. I'll see you around the book store, yeah?" He slides off his barstool and heads off to fetch Eleanor.

Elias nods thoughtfully, and then he glances over at the phone, quiet while August looks at it. He nods then and says, "Definitely a lot to think about. Good to talk to you, Mr. Roen. Until next time."