2020-08-19 - Balloons and Things

This morning August woke up, checked Friendzone, instantly regretted it and let his phone fall to the floor. He then curled up around Eleanor and implored her to not look at her phone, nor go into work.

Neither of those things happened. So here he is, at Espresso Yourself, to remind everyone that he is getting married by his mere cantankerous presence alone. There's a lot of new plants around the coffee shop, in a wide and strange variety: potted minirose, various succulents, chocolate cosmos, there's even a ficus. It's like Branch & Bole has put on a display.

August is seated at a window table which affords an unobstructed view of most of the place, his tablet out and propped into 'laptop' mode. He's barely looking at it, though; instead, he's meeting various intense looks from patrons with one of his own: 'Question my wedding engagement and you will find out just how engaged we still are, maybe with your face'. (He can't make good on this threat, but most of these people don't know that.)

It isn't long until the door to Espresso Yourself swings open with a cheerful little 'ding', the confident, brisk footfalls of boots despite the summer finding their way over the linoleum. Dressed in jeans, a leather jacket and tanktop, Isabella's riot of chocolate-and-bronze tresses are pulled back in a messy twist, lightly sunkissed skin sporting the telltale sheen of a young lady who happens to take solar radiation and moisturizing seriously - there's always a tube of biodegradable sunblock somewhere on her. Keen, green-and-gold eyes make a quick sweep of the coffeeshop.

"August!" she greets; despite having been dressed down vociferously by Alexander the night before - and whatever happens in the peak of high emotion that's left her still somewhat breathless - she seems to be in high spirits despite all of the chastisements she's just endured. Retrieving a cup of black coffee splashed with a hint of cream, she wastes no time heading over his direction. Examining her fellow reseacher's face, she can't help but wince. "They still at it?" she wonders sympathetically, setting her standard Veil Exploration Pack and the hatchet attached to it on a vacant chair.

Spinning it around, she straddles her own and folds her arms on the back rest, the cup of coffee set on the table.

August is distracted from his staring contest with a teenaged girl who's just murmured something to her friend after giving him the side-eye by Isabella's arrival. He's paler than she last saw him, and there's evidence of patchy, webbed bruising on his neck and forearms; yellow and greenish now, so it should be gone in a little while. A few lines of red on his left arm suggest cuts which have healed up enough to no longer need bandaging as well. It's been a rough week for him. No sling anymore, at least. He's in a red, white, and black camp shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black tee, and gray-wash denim jeans. Deck shoes, so he's probably not going to be doing anything other than office work at Branch & Bole today.

He leaves off his battle of the wills with a teenaged girl (which he was sure to lose), manages to smile at seeing Isabella returned and unharmed. "Hey, how'd it go." He sits back in his chair, has a sip from his large mug of cappuccino.

"You've looked better," Isabella tells her friend sympathetically, gathering up her cup of coffee. "Are you sure you ought to be up and about?" She takes a sip of her coffee, and links her fingers on the table. There's a narrow-eyed look at the teenaged girl whispering to her friend. "There are better things to do with your time, girls," she tells them pointedly, ever confrontational. "Maybe read a book or something. Your generation still knows how to do that, right?"

She says nothing else until the kids are gone, before she turns her attention back to August. "Weirdly, which is par for the course, but extra. Catch me up on your life, though, before I go into it."

"Don't I know it," August mutters at her first comment. He pauses when Isabella addresses the two teens. The shorter of the two, a blonde with purple and red streaks and a gothy sort of look, glares at her. "Trust old people to think we don't know how to read when you're all voting our education into the ground," she snaps. Her friend, a dark skinned girl with cornrows and a lovely sundress, gets a shocked look on her face, grabs her friend by the shoulder and steers her to the barista taking orders.

August covers his mouth with his hand to hide a smile. "Thanks," he says, voice low. "I got...stabbed." He makes a face. "Which you probably heard about, since it was in every news source. But then while I was...recovering from that, I got hauled into one of their things." He winces to remember it, rubs absently at one of the strange bruises. "Alexander's been in one like it. They're personal. Nasty." He flicks a look at her which says this isn't the place to darken with details, except, "Be careful. They seem to be going through us in threes."

"Millennial trends vote the other way," Isabella retorts dryly to said goth, having long since resigned to the fact that she's definitely going to be one of those, and has decided in this moment to embrace it. "Not exactly helping your case about reading, kid."

With the other teen steering the angry teenager out of the shop, the archaeologist tips her head back to look at the ceiling. "Did I mention how I was just waffling about whether I really want to spend my prime exploration years in the classroom?" she wonders of August, before taking another drink of her coffee. "Stabbed? Alexander was infected by a Dream recently, was this something else or...?"

Her brows furrow faintly at the news. "I didn't realize it was a pattern," she says softly. "I'll do my best, I tend not to use anyway until....this latest - I was there when Lilith treated his arm, it was in a bad way. August, maybe...maybe now would be a good time to take a few days in Seattle, or something. Take Ellie, go out and do something that's not here."

The goth girl keeps trying to give Isabella dirty looks as she collects her coffee and leaves; her friend is wincing and focused on getting them out of the cafe.

August watches them go, shares a wry smile about the notion of teaching (or not). "In the church," he says of the stabbing. "There were these statues, from Germany, that Glimmered, drew a few of us in. And waiting for us," he lifts a brow to indicate this is maybe an assumption he's making, but then he was stabbed, "was a guy with a gun and a knife. He shot one of Bennie's bartenders, then stabbed me." He pulls a face. "Bartender took him out." For which, he realizes, he does owe her, and maybe should give her a thank you, or, something. Well, he'll think about it.

"The stag party and bridal shower are both in Seattle, and the wedding's in Southern Oregon, so, we will in fact be gone for a few days." He says this things maybe a little louder than necessary, and in an arch tone you'd expect of Hyacinth, not him. More than a few people exchange Looks when they hear him; he pretends (badly) to not notice.

He edges up one sleeve of his shirt to show the bruising. It's definitely abnormal, and on closer inspection follows the lines of his major blood vessels, like something caustic was pumped into him. "'Infected' is a good way to put it," he says, voice low.

It isn't as if she's always in a combative mood, but considering August's present state and how the rumors on top of everything else weighing down on him, Isabella can't help but feel protective - perhaps overly so, but there's absolutely no apology in her when the two teenagers leave.

Story about the statue ambush has the young, newly-minted doctor wince openly. "Jesus, August, I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I've been trying to keep my head down after the incident..." Which Alexander has yet to recover from given his present state of over-protectiveness. It is something she will never begrudge him of, but the toll is real. "So I've been somewhat out of the loop. Can I do anything? Is there anything you need?" She sets her coffee aside, to fix her full attention to the combat botanist.

With plans to be gone confirmed, she smiles faintly. "I can't believe the time's finally here, it didn't seem all that long ago that you were worrying about whether it would happen at all," she teases. "And it will. I'm very happy for you, August. I know I've already told you, but it bears mentioning again."

She leans over to scrutinize the injury, narrowing her eyes faintly. "How'd you treat it?" she asks quietly. "Just in case? I had to rely on Lilith to see to Alexander, but if the worst happens, I might not have that option."

"Yeah, I figure it was something coordinated, for Itzhak in particular. The rest of us just got in the way." August grimaces about that; like Isabella, he tries to steer clear of the crime aspect of his relationships with people. But wrong place, wrong time will always be there, waiting to ambush them. "Just, be careful, okay? This guy--he had the Art. I think he knew we'd come look at those statues." August winces. "This whole thing might not be as...mundane as it seems." He shakes his head at the offer. "No, really, I'm okay. de la Vega hooked me up with the department's physical therapist, and the surgery on the implant went fine. It's as good as it can be, considering."

He grimaces at the injury, covers it with his shirt sleeves again. "Eleanor took care of it." That's chased with a half-shrug; given the nature of this recent set of Dreams it could easily mean she's now got a target on herself. "Itzhak had something similar, and I did what I could for his. Otherwise, we just let it rest. It seems to heal up on its own if you don't tax it." For which he mostly has Eleanor to thank; otherwise, he'd definitely work himself to reinjury, like a moron.

Her congratulations get a smile out of him, and he ducks his head. "Yeah. Feels good, despite," he glances up and around them at the new population of plants, "all of this. Still trying to decide on a honeymoon, but maybe we'll go up to Whistler. It's gorgeous in the summer like this."

"I'll be as careful as I can. I don't go anywhere these days without a gun," Isabella tells August grimly. "Not just for me, but for Alexander's piece of mind also." She can't help but wonder who he is, however - the man with the art, and using the statues as bait. "It might not be, but hopefully it's nothing any of us can't handle."

There's a quick nod about treatment. "Hopefully nothing on that end happens but we can't be too certain, not with how things typically go around here. Meanwhile, Whistler sounds amazing and the two of you should definitely escape once the knot's been tied. Though speaking of, I think you and Ellie might've set a trend. Byron and Lil came back from France engaged, I wasn't sure if either of them's told you."

August grunts around a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I've been carrying my handgun a bit more, lately." Not that he's sure he could actually kill someone with it, but he can at least try. His expression tightens at the notion of anyone being able to handle the current underworld situation. He has his doubts. This is usually the sort of thing that runs everyone out of town, and he has to wonder if the invading group has actually considered that.

The topic of Byron and Lilith has him smiling. "I saw the rock myself, and a gorgeous piece of work it is." His smile turns rueful. "But, ah, have you run into the people who are claiming he's not Byron? He's 'Bryan' and Lil is out on bail for killing 'Byron'." August rolls his eyes; he feels this is about as credible as the nonsense about himself and Eleanor.

"Yeah," Isabella says with a furrow-browed look. "About that."

She glances over her shoulder and towards the door - and once she's reassured herself that she and August are alone, she reaches into the exploration pack to pull out the map of Gray Harbor that she always keeps within, and spreads it out on the table. "So I started trying to pick at this....new bit of weirdness, and I went back as far into the beginning as I could. I first started hearing about these weird gaps in memory around three places - the Pourhouse, the Grizzly Den and the Thai Table. So what I did was open Doors while I was near each, see if there were any changes in the landscape. Not that the Veil isn't always changing, especially in the streets....but there was, August."

She frowns visibly. "I don't know what to make of it though."

August leans forward to look at the map, glances up from it to Isabella and back by turns. His brow furrows when she calls it 'Thai Table', though he makes no attempt to correct her. He's well aware that telling which of them is right is the entire problem at hand.

He sits back, toys with his beard. "What changed? Like, the name of the place over there too? Or..."

"Balloons."

Isabella circles the streets. "These particular ones tend to shift and blend with one another on the other side," she tells August. "But when I opened a Door near the Pourhouse, I looked towards the heart of downtown, and I saw a yellow balloon in the distance, as if it was marking a very specific location. Now..." She taps another area of the map. "When I went to the Thai Table, which is by the heart of downtown, and opened a Door there, the landscape was its usual writhing, shifting state...except that the balloon was lavender and it was over the sidestreets. No yellow balloon in sight. I didn't have much time to think about it yesterday and what that could mean, but I think we should probably try and collect more data."

August listens to Isabella, expression slowly going from careful scrutiny to 'what is this fucking Veil nonsense'. He turns that look on the map in particular. How dare there be balloons in the damned Veil, that look says.

He makes a low sound, folds his arms. (And takes a moment to revel in how he can fold his arms again.) "Definitely need more data," he agrees. "We should check the Grizzly. But," he arches an eyebrow, "we should also check all over. Because those locations, that was one thing. It's spreading, whatever it is. And we need to find out and stop it, before something serious happens." Like, say, someone decides to actually arrest Lilith, or deport Itzhak and Joe. "I was figuring I'd call around, see how far out this goes. Like, is anyone in Portland effected? If I call my sister in San Francisco, is she going to think that too? Does," he gestures at Isabella, "the state have a teaching certificate on file for you? That kind of thing."

"I'm trying to think of why it's like that," Isabella murmurs. "That you can open Doorways in two different locations but can see similar things, but not in the same way. Kind of like what's happening here, so either the cause of the phenomenon occurred here, and it has affected the Veil, or it originated there, and it's starting to bleed into here. I mean, seeing the balloon in different locations and in different colors is kind of like what's happening here, isn't it? With people accepting a false memory as true. And I can't help but wonder, now that the Asylum's....the way it is, that what we did there the last time we visited it is the reason why this is happening. This place always had a tendency to warp memory, even before this started, it's just never manifested in this way before."

She nods. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea," she tells August. "Let me know what you find out? And I did check out the Grizzly - same thing. The Pourhouse and the Grizzly are close to one another, I saw the yellow balloon at the distance to the downtown. It's when I went downtown and opened a Door there that the vantage point shifted with the lavender balloon floating over the side-streets instead."

Eleanor has been hiding in her office most of the day, because if she gets one more sympathetic look or gift from people trying to comfort her for the non-factual end of her engagement, she may dump hot coffee on someone. But it's getting closer to quitting time for her today, so she emerges, hair and makeup done, contact lenses in, a nice skirt and blouse with tights and heels. Depressed women who have just been dumped don't put that much care into their appearance. Right?

She spots August and Isabella and smiles, heading over to their table, slumping into a chair. "Is it still happening? I don't know how much more of this idiocy I can take. I've been getting cards delivered all day." She rubs at her temples.

"As much as I want to think it's something from over there that came over here," because they already know that tends to make crazy shit happen, "we have to accept that, the same way changing things here changes over there...the reciprocal effect might hold." August makes a face. He does not like that idea. Not at all, because it means not using one's powers doesn't really keep you safe. Not in the least.

He gestures at Isabella with his mug. "Right--we had some kind of impact over there when we busted into that place. What if this is the fallout? What if that changed how memories alter?" Christ, what a thought.

"Will do," he says of the various phonecalls, and turns his attention to the map. "I guess the first thing is to pick a few spots and observe the balloon. Maybe...circular." He taps points around downtown, keeping it central to the shape. Of course this doesn't allow it to be perfectly circular, but it gets close. "After we do the outer circle, do an inner one, and so on. Record what we see, keep an eye out for a pattern." He tilts his head. "And, bring maybe 2-3 people, make sure we all see the same color."

He might be about to go on, but Eleanor arrives, and that snags his attention. He smiles in sympathy, reaches out to take one of her hands and kiss it. "Still going on." He nods at Isabella. "Izzy checked the other side, looks like...something is up Over There."

Eleanor squeezes August's hand and leans in to plant a kiss on his lips because SCREW THIS TOWN! She's pretty close to changing her phone number and email address, just to escape the earnest sympathy of the nosy townfolk.

At the news about the changes on the Other Side, she presses her lips together to think about it. "It's not the first thing we've seen. Burying Gohl over here closed a door. Thomas Addington seemed to have closed another. This may be fallout from what happened with the Asylum, or who knows what else? I need to get together with Alexander and Ravn and Ignacio and really start putting together our information society to start compiling and disseminating information like this. So we can keep track of who is doing what on the other side, and record what effects it has here."

She looks up from the chair that she's straddling, Isabella's eyes taking on Eleanor's features and giving her what she hopes is a supportive smile. "Hey, Ellie, I just got back." She nods to the pack and hatchet that remains situated on the vacant chair next to her. "How are you holding up? Was just telling August what I found over there - as usual, we probably need to try more locations than the three I've looked at, but at least we know that things have changed there, too, probably to reflect what's happening here, or vice-versa." Brows furrow slightly. "Who's Ravn?"

She says this as she's scribbling an 'outer' circle and an 'inner' circle. "Doing this almost feels wrong without Anne," she confesses to August quietly. "But she doesn't want to go back and I don't have the heart to press her." She scrubs the back of her head. "We could even do teams - three people each team, put together a spreadsheet, do comparisons."

She rubs her face, before looking up. "Speaking of looking into things - you wanted to pick my brain about Alexander's new dead body? You said you knew the victim?"

August leans into Eleanor, because yes indeed, screw this town. "They think your brother beat me up to make me agree to marry you again, by the way." He offers this up with a wry, almost-smile. Not about Lucas being able to beat him up, because Lord knows the kid could, but because the need to is comical. He mmmms at the thought of an information society. "Something loose-knit, yeah? I like that idea. Psychic phone tree."

Mention of Anne gets a sympathetic wince. "Yeah. But I...get why she'd rather not." He flicks a glance at once of the fading bruises on his arm, shrugs it off. "Itzhak'll be plenty willing." He gives Eleanor a sidelong glance. "Maybe some other people too."

The question about Ravn is left unanswered by August; the dead body is a bigger concern for him. "Yeah. Henry. He ah...used to work at Olympic, I know him from my years up at Hoh." He tips his head northwards, instinctively finding it. "Nice guy, loved being outside. Has a couple of daughters." He clears his throat. "Niall, the guy running out end of the Park, he said there's marks like were on the body out in Firefly Forest. They assumed it was just kids marking up trees, but the similarity's awful close. Alexander said you thought they were Sumerian?"

"Ravn is a recent arrival to town," Eleanor explains. "He's working for Bennie at the Twofer, but he's a folklorist from Denmark. His understanding of that sort of mythology might be helpful, since we've run across mythic sorts of echoes Over There and in Dreams."

She grins at August and the idea of her little bro defending her honor and chuckles. "Lucas will get a hoot out of that. But yes, exactly, an occult phone tree of sorts. No gathering too many of us in meetings, that just makes us targets, but being able to pass on information to people who need it, via phone and internet, and being able to compile statistics and incidents for our research."

At the mention of those willing, Eleanor seems caught between her old instant 'oh hell no' response to anything to do with Them and Over There, and her more recent confidence in her own abilities. "I can go if I'm needed."

"Oh, August," Isabella murmurs with a visible and pained expression of sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

She addresses Eleanor's comments first, nodding once. "Let me know if I can contribute," she tells her with a smile. "At this point, I'm relatively certain the world will have to cut off my arms and legs to prevent me from touching things, so I might as well be useful on that end. I'm no good at anything else with this nonsense." It's wry and self-deprecating, but to put it objectively, her power level is just not the same as everyone else around her. When Ellie offers to go, though, there's an acknowledging nod, though she is willing to let that discussion stay between would-be husband and wife.

Circling back to August, she shakes her head. "Babylonian," she says. "It's Babylonian cuneiform - there's about a two-millennia difference between the Sumerians and the Babylonians. But the symbol does refer to Kur, the Sumerian underworld. It's the realm of the goddess Ereshkigal." She spreads her hands on the table. "Unlike other belief systems, Kur was neither a paradise nor a hell, it was meant to represent a sort of 'shadow mirror' to life on Earth."

"He's got a bit of movement," August adds to Eleanor's description of Ravn, as it's relevant to both of them. "Not a lot, but enough to get him in trouble." A way of saying 'enough to cross over, not enough to cross back easily'. He reaches out to rub her leg, a concerned look flickering over his face. "Only if you want to," he says, gentle and firm. Since, well, August gave Itzhak a little boost to deal with a difficult 'conversation', and he wound up tortured half to death for it. He begrudges no one the desire to stay out of things.

He nods, murmurs, "Thanks," about Henry. "He was a decent guy--no good at being married, but," he shrugs, weak and resigned. Some people can't balance marriage and career. (Hey, another thing he can sort of do, shrug with his left shoulder. Take that, knife-wielding church guy.)

"Shadow mirror," he repeats, and raises his eyebrows. "Well that sounds familiar, doesn't it." He tips his head towards Firefly. "Niall said he could show us where they found the marks up in Firefly. It wasn't on any trails, or anything like that, and he didn't see an obvious pattern. We might be able to suss something out, though." He wrinkles his nose. "Alexander wants us to give whatever we find to the cops, on the off chance it's not something to do with Over There. Said a Detective Wilkinson would be our best bet." He glances from Isabella to Eleanor, checking for familiarity.

Eleanor smiles wanly at August. "Right, but maybe I'll participate AFTER the wedding. I don't want to press my luck at this point, you know?" She nods regarding Ravn having some of the movement art. "I saw that in him. Poor guy sort of got dropped feet first into the deep end winding up here in Gray Harbor."

She listens to the information on the marks, her curiosity piqued. "How many miles to Babylon, three score miles and ten, can I get there by candelight? Yes and back again."

"Yes, and the parallels don't stop there either." Isabella gestures with her hands. "In the culture, everyone goes to Kur when they die. There's no weighing your soul regarding your deeds while living to determine whether you get consigned to a good part of Kur, or a bad part of Kur. There are no such delineations. When you die, that is where you go, but there's nothing for food or drink in Kur - nothing but dust, so the souls of Kur are sustained by their descendants, who feed them wine from the world of the living. So the realms of both the living and the dead have a symbiotic relationship." She glances to the window. "Much like Gray Harbor's relationship to the Veil." After a pause, she continues. "Whoever killed your friend, August, is probably in the know. And I won't be surprised at all if he was local. That would be my guess, anyway." There's a faint smile. "Alexander would probably crack that mystery faster than I ever could."

She nods. "I'll come to the trails, then. I'm not as familiar with Firefly as you, but I've gone hunting and shooting there on and off my entire life. If there are more marks, more cuneiform, it could only help - maybe it's a message."

Eleanor's reference gets her a quick grin. "I haven't heard that rhyme in years."

"That was my thinking," August admits to Isabella. "That, if nothing else, someone with the Art's involved, somehow. Alexander didn't agree, he thinks it could be totally mundane." He shrugs about that. Alexander is the investigator, not August. "There wasn't, at a glance, anything obviously related to the Art. But..." But, well, cotopus head body carved with glyphs.

He looks askance at Eleanor. "Where's that from?"

"It's a nursery rhyme. I remember reading it as a kid at the beginning of some pre-teen adventure novel about a pony named Candlelight. I think the author was Doty?" Because of course Eleanor read horse books as a kid. She probably has a whole collection of the Black Stallion books.

"As for whether it's mundane or not, does it really matter? It's something we need to figure out either way. Someone who can't use the art might become obsessed with those that can. Maybe even think they can gain those abilities with ritualistic sacrifices or something." Ah, there is the conspiracy theorist.

"Anyway, I need to go finish doing some payroll and scheduling in the back. I'll text you when I'm done love?" she murmurs to August, giving him another sound kiss.

"I don't know about the Talent, definitively," Isabella muses. "But someone with knowledge at the very least. Either way, I agree with Alexander about giving whatever we have to the authorities. I don't know if they'll be able to make anything out faster than our brain trust can, but I've room in me to be surprised." The last is said dryly, and not without conceit - if there is anything the archaeologist is confident in, it's her intelligence and those of her peers. That and an unshakable, unwavering confidence in Alexander's sheer, investigative acumen.

With Ellie rising, she sighs and shifts to get up from her seat. "I ought to be heading out, too," she says, smiling as the woman kisses August. "Going to pick up some dinner before heading home to Alexander. The two of you take care of one another, alright? If I find out anything else, I'll keep you posted."

August tilts his head about the book. "Hm." Is he thinking about looking it up, or asking Eleanor if she has her copy still? Probably. But now he's being kissed, which gets stares, so he kisses her back. "It probably doesn't matter," he says, glancing at Isabella and nodding. "He said Wilkinson is in the know, so maybe she can follow it."

He releases Eleanor reluctantly, nods at Isabella. "Say hi to him for me. I left some stuff to cook with, in case you're feeling adventurous." He smiles, sly and teasing. So, he knows about her cooking skills. (The ones she lacks, that is.)