2020-09-15 - This Old (Haunted) House

Ignacio needed a ride home and with the shape his legs are in, well, that he doesn't drive or maybe doesn't have a car might be related? Either way he is grateful for the ride back from Espresso Yourself (Youself...You*r*self...?) i exchange for food and a historic riddle. That and , you know, sometimes friends just show up in life. As they drive down Bay St. into the residential area where the houses are less opulent and more spread out again as they push away from downtown Ignacio sits in teh passenger seat, elbow resting on teh open window frame and fingers resting at the top as they drive and the wind is welcome in in the late Summer day.

"So Itzhak comes in going 'Yo Ignacio!' and I look up at him going 'Yeah? Me too!'" He snickers shaking his head telling the stories of when the two both used to live back east in New York. "Maaaaan he was so mad at me. I told him, hey you can't just say that in a Spanish neighborhood. it's something different here."

The drive is pleasant and quiet and one would /expect/ a really creepy home with trees and grass overgrowing the place. The truth is the yard of Mallard House is very neat because the smallest, most driven occupant (Finch) told the plants to stay in their designated places. The shrubbery is well kept up and the flowers are neat and it's all quite pleasant. The house does need paint and there is evidence where there are good places on the behemoth house and places they have yet to 'properly fit' to the dereliction of time. It has 9 fireplaces, almost abandoned of their occupants in their entirety. For now. Or are they?

"That one up there. Drive's on the far side of the mailbox."

Some cars are fancy. Some cars say a lot about their owner's personality. Some cars are works of art. And then there's your sensible family car that rents cheaply, never breaks down, and testifies to its owner's personality as: Very Boring Person. This is the kind of car that Ravn seems to have rented from some Seattle agency because honestly, hitch-hiking there three times in as many weeks is getting old. American society is built on cars. They drive everywhere. If you want to stay somewhere, you need to either have a car, or be really good friends with someone who does.

It's sort of metallic grey. And boring. And absolutely stable and rational and energy efficient and boring. Which is all probably very good because it's been a few years since Ravn last drove and let's be honest, he's a bit out of practise.

"So what does 'yo' mean in Spanish? I mean, before I yell it at the police chief or something." Ravn winces. He's not forgotten the realisation that apparently, he hitch-hiked through northern Spain asking for two crows at every hostel and taverna he visited. No bloody wonder people looked at him funny. No bloody wonder they always served tequila instead of the beer he thought he asked for, either.

He swings the car into the driveway and looks at the old Victorian with fascination. "If anywhere says 'I'm haunted' this is it. Is it haunted?"

Ignacio chuckles, "Yo is like 'I'. so Yo Ignacio is like "I, Ignacio' and usually it'd be soy which means 'I am' buuuut if you can't fuck with your best friend who can you really harass these days?" Reasons are sound. Yelling things at the cops gets a vaguely worried look. "Yeah I'd be careful yelling anything at them. A bunch do not have a sense of humor and my publicist has declared me hilarious. I gave it my best. nothin. Not even a smile." Shaking his head like it's a damn shame he points to where Ravn can park the car in a space that doesn't block the main path from the drive to the barn. Looking at the house he considers the answer before doing so and nods. "Yeah It's probably haunted. We prefer to call it 'authentic charm' but...yeah the back half is pretty haunted. Working on that though. It's fine. No one's died in at least a generation so it's okay." He's so positive about these things!

"I don't usually yell anything at the police, but it so happens that the police chief frequents the bar I work at, and I'd hate to make some kind of stupid, offensive joke at him. He's Spanish speaking." Ravn locks the car behind them; the keyring goes bleep bleep.

He dismisses the thought of a grumpy man who somehow managed to tower under him and still be intimidating as all hell. The house is interesting and in a way, quite beautiful. "Authentic charm. Right. Grew up in a whole lot of that myself. Also haunted as all hell. Still getting used to the idea that you can say something like that aloud without someone handing you a tinfoil hat, though." The Dane cracks a lopsided grin. "So, are your ghosts at least friendly?"

Ignacio gives Ravn a look and sighs commiserating. "He's kinda almost my father-in-law. I know precisely what you're talking about. I can teach you the short cuts to stay off his grumpy side...that work for about 5 minutes. After 5 minutes?" he shakes his head, "We're all on our own. Serve him Patron and you're in good shape." Sage advice. It checks out.

Lifting himself down and out of the car he waves for him to follow"I'll show you around. We did a chicken run in the spring when I learned about chickens the hard way. I grew up in the city. The only animals we had were rats and pigeons." He does pause a way out and look under the porch, maybe for ghosts? Maybe to see if that little cat ate the food left out. Presently to entertain the 4.2 chickens back there (there is a little one) there's a head of lettuce on a cord stretched so it gives them something to play with while they eat. "Turns out it's easy to keep chickens busy for hours."

The question about the ghosts brigs a slight frown and he takes a deep breath and says judiciously, "I think the state of being a ghost is being...troubled. For the most part they leave people alone. Sometimes the city acts up and ya know, if people get scared people react. Ghosts are also allowed to be scared and react. I'm still learning them, but ya know relationships take time." Looking to Ravn he wonders curiously, "Your place was haunted back home? By the dead or by the living?" There's a wry grin there with that question.

"Eh, it's a pretty old house and my family has lived in it for a very long time. Not everyone -- you know, got on with things. Some of them were probably real ghosts. Most times, though, it'd be more like the house having memories of people and things that happened a very long time ago, and sometimes you'd see things out of the corner of an eye, or walk past someone in a hallway only they dressed like they stepped out of seventeen hundred something." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "They never did anything. Some of them were aware of me. I'd talk to them and they'd stay and listen for a while, maybe nod or shrug or smile, and then get on with whatever ghosts do. Most of the time it was more like an old video clip was playing itself nearby and you could watch if you liked. No one else saw them, though. I figured out pretty quick as a kid that it was better to not talk about it to grown-ups. Just me and my imaginary friends."

He follows the Spaniard towards the house, sharp grey eyes taking in every detail (and quite possibly looking for anything that doesn't quite fit the time period). As an afterthought he adds, "I usually serve de la Vega, or anyone else, pretty much what they ask for. Just handing people the beer she thinks they deserve is Vic Grey's deal, not mine." The lopsided grin widens. "I don't think I've got the stare to get away with that. She can literally stare a man into wishing himself out of existence."

Ignacio warms a grin and says "I'll consider myself forewarned. I used to host Bar Trivia up there at TibS. I should talk to Bennie and maybe get back to that. Ully at work and I would write out the questions. Hal f the time he forgets to write the answer on the back to fuck with me." Those brown eyes roll up with a shake of his head.

Looking back he listens, "Man it sounds pretty amazing though. I'd love to see pictures." Biting his lip and satisfied there's no cats to run into the house unsupervised right now he opens the side door to the kitchen. "Also sounds like you might have a bit of a seeing gift. I mean people call it all sorts of things. There's no handbook for senses beyond hearing, sight, taste, touch, and smell, ya know? But some people are sensitive to the memories people leave or the memories places have of them. I'm no expert but I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of places had... both." He bites his tongue shoving a window open and calls out with some projection, "Abuelita? I'm home..." he pauses and frowns. His eyes close and there is a brief moment of concern before his eyes shift to the barn and his muscles relax, "She's not back yet." That's relief.

Inside the house there is the shroud of something once grand and left to be taken care of for too long by jut the old woman herself. What is there has been lovingly taken care of with the imperfect dents in the wood from being lived in for generations. She was once a very opulent house until, well... The kitchen though is a sizable galley kitchen and the table is cleared off for company with some mums in a vase. "How are you settling in and all? I know you came to a small town to find quiet and you'd mentioned it's been anything but. How...how you holding up?"

"Just keep your eyes at eye height and your hands off her backside, and Vic won't skin you alive and use your hide for a winter coat," Ravn says amicably. It's pretty clear from his tone that he likes his co-worker, however fearsome her reputation -- and perhaps finds it quite entertaining to watch her put well-off yachters firmly in their place when required. "Trivia night sounds pretty fun. I'd be up for taking that shift."

He follows Ignacio around, looking at things with the appreciation of someone who recognises past glory when he sees it; someone who has at least an inkling of what this place might have looked like in its glory days -- and could look like again, provided someone with skilled hands or a lot of money decided to rewind time for it. The Spaniard's question has the Dane hesitating a moment, though, and then chuckling. "Actually -- I kind of alternate between terrified and enraptured. I mean... I'm a folklorist. I study stories. Patterns. Archetypes. Imagine suddenly being face to face with a literal goddess of one of those stories. You don't understand the concept of 'cycle of life and death' until you've literally watched a goddess die smiling because she knows she will be reborn in the spring and the wheel of life will continue for another year. You can't learn this in a classroom or a library. I've seen it now." He trails off for a moment and then tacks on, "I'm not blind to how dangerous this town is, but on some level, it's giving me everything I ever wanted. Even if I spend half my time skirting a panic attack."

Ignacio nods slowly, "Well not that I'd touch anyone without their okay my sexual preference is Finch so ya know, zero worries." There's a wry grin with that lopsided smile of his as he puts his bag down and washes his hands before digging through the kitchen for things to make food happen. "All in all? I think that's a reasonable reaction."

The words are not lost on him when he blinks, eyebrow arched, "A goddess? A whole one? Wow." That's something to consider and the compliment follows, "Well you walked out with all your important things attached like memories and appendages? That's what I call a win. That's.. kinda big man." There is a pause though as he looks back, "Food allergies? Do you have any, not do you want me to give you any. you're a nice guy and it'd be a shame to accidentally kill a friend. Sort of ruins it." Because casual understatement is his gift to the world.

"I could always apply to join your ghost menagerie?" Ravn's blue-grey eyes sparkle with amusement. "No, no allergies that I know of. I'm a lily-livered white boy from the cold North, of course, so expect me to die from looking at a jalapeņo."

Then he turns a little more serious as he pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and settles on it. "I think that as far as these dream experiences go, we got off pretty lucky -- but that doesn't mean it wasn't close. Joe Cavanaugh -- the astronaut bloke whose boat is just a berth or two from mine -- was in a hell of a lot of trouble, some undead bloke tried to garotte him. I have a nasty feeling that it was more luck than skill that we managed to free him in time. And when I say 'we' I mean the people who can blow up things with their minds -- not me. I saw some pretty damn impressive fireworks from some of the others who were there. Have a very strong feeling that if not for those fireworks, none of us would have come back to talk about it."

A lopsided grin appears on the man's pale face. "But you know what the really great part was? Apart from the obvious, that no one died or got severely injured? The way everyone had everyone's backs. That there was no need to talk or argue or plan. Just, I watch your back, you watch mine."

Ignacio chuckles and admits, "Eeeh I've got enough ghosts man. I'm kinda into keeping people alive." There's a pause with a nod burying other thoughts on the matter for later. Today's a good lunch. Looking up he frowns, "I know Cavanaugh. He okay? He's a decent dude." There's a concern while the dough he made yesterday is pulled out. The sleeves go up and there's a scar, still pink but healed that follows the outside of his arm past the side of hi elbow. The man's a meat puzzle, but there's not a lot slowing down his will to move and do, it just takes more time than he'd like to accomplish everything.

"I'm proud of you. I mean that sounds fucked up and weird, but I am man. Sometimes all we can do is keep our head on straight and really look at the situation because we take for granted that everyone can and the truth is that's not the case. There's emotions, fear, no one wants to die ya know? But not everyone's great at seeing the options because people with a skill keep trying to use that skill for everything" There's a pause and he reasons out with a grin, "It's why Xander on Buffy and Sokka on the Airbender show are the most valuable members of that team. Stay calm, and find the other solutions. Sometimes not fighting also is the thing. You didn't run though. Says a lot about you. "

There is too, that pride that lights up when he smiles. "What did you learn from it?"

Ravn dips into a blazer pocket for a coin. It starts to dance on the knuckles of his left hand, spinning and jumping and hopping. It seems to be just something he does -- in the fashion of someone who clicks a pen or fiddles with anything nearby that isn't nailed down or stapled to a horisontal surface.

"I think Cavanaugh's neck hurts like hell. I'm pretty damn sure it does. But I don't think he sustained any injuries that require proper medical assistance. Fortunately -- it's hard enough to watch Rosencrantz looking like someone took a baseball bat to his arm. More so when you know how hard it must be for him to not be able to play his violin for a while." The coin spins; Ravn's voice carries a tone of regret -- one passionate violinist understands exactly how hard that abstinence will be for another.

The last question prompts him to capture the coin in the other hand and look up at the Spaniard, though. "What did I learn? That there is no such thing as knowing enough, I suppose. We got lucky that this Dream obeyed the historical connection, about nature based religions essentially following the turning of the seasons. The next one might not be so compliant. But if it is -- then knowledge is what I can bring to the table, I suppose."

Ignacio sighs and shakes his head punching at the dough to get it to lay out right before rolling that out. "Yeah he brought over his violin when I was stuck in bed. made me start playing again. I swear we sound like the makings of an Italian Mariachi band." The half grin falters a bit with the mention of Itzhak's arm. It's replaced by a sigh.

"I mean I know why he does it. I've known him for 11 years. My oldest friend really. But he keeps thinking he's a tank. he's not. He's a person and life isn't a video game. But ya know we've taken too many losses to not do something and sometimes? Sometimes no one's equipped to handle any part of this place. but yeah, you're right. Getting knowledge is essential. This way we don't waste all our efforts fighting trash when the boss is not being affected. Or... maybe there's a way to do things so no one has to fight." which... hurts.

His gingers stop rolling things out and really it's a professional grade job: it's even and without holes. That gets lifted into a pie pan while he kicks up the pan to heat and moves veggies out. "How much you know about old Greek and Cypriot lore and stuff?" The curiosity goes back to the historian consulting someone more knowledgeable in this particular field.

"I'm not really up to speed on video game terminology." Ravn flicks the coin on to his right hand instead, letting it continue its dance. "But I think I know Rosencrantz well enough even after a few weeks to understand what kind of bloke he is when pushed up against a wall. He gets back up. Every time. And I suspect he gets hurt a lot. If anything, that's more incitement to find other ways to get through -- I don't like seeing him, or anyone else, get hurt. Have a feeling that fighting is often the point, though, and that avoiding it might turn out to be difficult. From what I understand, these Veil creatures want us to bleed and suffer. They'll find ways to make it happen no matter how book smart we are. I have been thinking I should try to... I don't know, at least take a basic self defence class, or something."

Then he cants his head slightly. "Greece and Cyprus? I know the basics, I suppose -- I've gone through the classics, obviously, and a lot of our western hemisphere cultural archetypes originate from that period. It's not my field per se, but if there's something you're looking for, I might be able to help find it? My actual field is more recent -- the early industrial age."

Ignacio tilts his head to the side and says "I'd put it into racing terms but that's usually more obscure. It means the person who takes the hits and endures the problem to give everyone else enough time to resolve it. we're all compelled by our own reasons, but? I mean yeah. They want us to fight. It's a great reason not to."

There's a lot of veggies getting cut up. Sadly all the things he wants to put into the meal are not all present. Hrmmm. Time to improvise. Still he chops with the skills of someone that's been doing this all their damn life. "Sooooo you know things are weird and are also now aware you are not actually Swedish." He pauses stopping the chopping. "The rumors about what happened with Finch's family are related back to old folklore and some Greek stuff which... growing up I filed away under Greek Stuff and moved on. " who is kicking himself for that now? This guy. Eeeey!

"So if you're up for it i"m really looking into what we can find about Celano, harpies, and harpy myths and legends beeeecause I really don't want see her made to be the person she's not and doesn't want to be. I've been researching different like... veil hexes and curses- Veil being the other side of...all this weird shit." Shaking his head he murmurs, "When I sound crazy, like, please tell me to stop. Short story: Her family is descendant of this harpy Celano of old time lore. And now every other generation of her family has a woman that becomes the embodiment of her fury and kills all the male members of that family and husbands and stuff so you can see where this is bumming her out? The town's been... unkind to her since things happened."

"We're in Gray Harbor. I don't think 'crazy' even exists here," Ravn points out. "You kind of have to work from a basic assumption that no matter how crazy it sounds, it could very well be true. I just helped one Aztec god kill another. Anywhere else, I'd be making myself a nice tinfoil hat at this time."

He taps his lip with one gloved finger, thinking -- and toying with the coin with the other hand because manual dexterity is a thing and he's probably one of those people who can pat their head and rub their own tummy at once. "Harpies hold a strange place in mythology. They're evil but they're not. Mostly they represent nature when nature is being destructive -- a bit like the Wild Hunt of European legends. Storms that destroy mindlessly. But not malevolently -- they serve a purpose, whether that is to enact the fury of the gods or wreck revenge. There's a strong revenge motif with them. Justice isn't always pretty. I'd need to go spend time in a library to tell what legends specifically tie in with Caelano, of course, but -- I can do that, you know?"

The Dane glances at the Spaniard. "I notice, though, that you use the word fury. The Greek furies, the Erinyes, are anything but friendly. They're servants of Hades, but they operate pretty independently. They're deities of vengeance, of a very physical justice that tends to involve people getting very violently hurt. Harpies bring people who are to be punished to the Erinyes. I'm seeing a definite revenge motif here. Hubris, something very Greek, really. If that holds, then the key to unravelling that mystery probably lies in finding out what your fiancee's ancestors did exactly, because the Ancient Greeks were absolutely enamoured with the idea of cursing entire bloodlines."

Ignacio rubs his eye withthe back of his wrist sighing. "Yeaaaaah, I noticed they do too. That... actually kidna stacks with what we've pushed togehter. This Furie was in love and something... happened. Someoen hurt her or betrayed her or something," he shakes his head lost on exactly what. "She turned on her blood line that never y other generation no man will survive. Her great aunt Starling- yes they're all named after birds- went on this murder spree and took out her brothers and some others before they took her. She... is a very interesting and concerning woman. I got to meet her once."

There's a pause and a small frown, "Finch is the only lady bird in her generation. She doesn't...want this and I'm mad for her that there's some ancient curse BS keeping her from doing what she wants how she wants it." There's a pause and the meat continues to brown now with the veggies in there, "I think that it's because some dudes wronged her some dude, maybe me, I dunno, needs to show some honest intent if she's willing to lift that but... I don't know what to do, and... I need help. I'm good with talking to people and getting people to chill out ya know, but I'm not great at researching mythos." To call the look he gives Ravn grateful for being a lore nerd is understating it by a lot.

"So you're saying that this curse predates Gray Harbor. Goes all the way back to actual ancient Europe? I suppose there must be -- other places like this one." Ravn cants his head. "Still, I have no problem believing that this place can create a very convincing replica of Quetzalcoatl and friends, but I struggle to believe in real Erinyes and harpies. I'm perfectly willing to adopt the idea that another place like this one screwed with someone's ancestors, though."

He taps his lips some more; this is clearly a habit when thinking. "Something that's gone on for literally thousand of years is probably not something we can fix in half an hour at the library, Ignacio. But there's sure as hell no saying we can't give it the best we've got. Going to read up on Greek myths, the underworld in particular -- the whole revenge motif. What you need to do is try to find any family legend or story, however obscure and seemingly insignificant, that might pertain to any kind of slight or abuse. I think you're probably right about someone being wronged. The question is who, because it's likely the evildoer's family that ends up cursed."

Ignacio laughs with a lopsided, but honest grin. If he survives long enough he's gonna get some great wrinkles around his eyes from the way it lights up his face. "Well no it's not going to solve anything. And likely not in one library either. Getting the lead and understanding it are liable to take time, and time? We have lots of it. Ijust would prefer making some sort of progress. Besides, if this harpy was that wronged? I mean maybe she needs help; a show of good faith."

Meats concluded that goes into the dough and gets BURIED ALIVE in cheese, two kinds. "I spared you on the chilis and the peppers. I'm out. But... you, um, you ever see things act a little funny elsewhere? They say there's thin spots all over the globe. Gray Harbor's just got an outright hole in it. I accidentally went through in Baltimore on my way down to Daytona. Didn't... go good. But there are other thin spots." Oven opens. Meat pie goes in. Oven closes. "So your theory isn't wrong."

"I didn't know that, no. I obviously suspected -- given my own family's house and the ghosts." The coin comes to rest on Ravn's palm and then seems to wander up his underarm and back into his blazer pocket. "Our place is not like Gray Harbor, though. There's nothing malicious there. Just five hundred years of history leaving its footprints all over. I never had the feeling it tried to do anything or, heaven forbid, feed on people. It just sits there. And honestly, it can't affect most people very much at all because the place is rented out to be a folk highschool nowadays. I doubt they'd stay in business if students got eaten by ghosts. I think that's more of a me thing -- I'm the one who sometimes sees things that aren't there."

He flashes a small, wry grin. "Spent a lot of time talking to therapists about that, among other things. Had me believing I just made the whole thing up as a kid. Then I had... well, things happened, and I had a breakdown. When things got better I left home and travelled down through Europe. There are a lot of very old places in Europe. Towns that are literally thousands of years old. And every now and then I'd see something, meet someone. They never really do anything. I just see -- people. Place like this house? Wouldn't be the slightest surprised to see someone in a flapper dress or a zoot suit flit down the stairs and out the doors. Might not even comment because... it just happens."

"Ghost, aaaah, ghosts are a bit new to me. Met one. Before. It was um... not what I expected." Lips press together and he looks to Ravn thoughtfully wondering how much sense that makes. "Buddy, I learned the hard way not to talk to therapists about anything too specific." But it's a personal story and to that point, while lunch is baking, he sets the towel down and listens for ow. The kitchen can be picked up anytime.

There is a concerned look, not worried or accusing, but concerned. Fingers fold under his chin, not as great as they once did, but they're managing. ""Sounds like a long trip to carry so much weight. These things do just happen. Messed up is when things that are happening with the living now make less sense than a flapper chain smoking in the living room talking about Cab Calloway."

His hand draws up letting his finger rub on his bottom lip thoughtfully, "Best I can figure out is yes, this curse comes from the other side. So there is some... partof it there that I think needs to change but it's following some pattern or rules or lore which I don't have or have parallels for to generate . It does feel like revenge but... also to protect the person in question. Destroy a threat and it cannot hurt you. Destruction is not disarming and sometimes it's all people know how to do without the tools to consider other options."

There's a slight smile for Ravn "Sometimes we have to fall apart so we can decide what goes back when we put ourselves together again. Something about this place suggests to me we're not done yet."

"Chain smoking flappers are pretty low key, I figure." Ravn watches the other man, not at all blind to the tell-tale signs of someone else who's been through the grinder of trying to explain the inexplicable to people who think antidepressants are the answer to most issues. "But yeah. I fell apart pretty hard. Hit the ground running and just kept right on running -- until I ended up here, in Hotel California town, I guess."

He cants his head, paying attention to the Spaniard's description. "Fragmented as it might be as of yet, gut feeling tends to be everything with these matters -- whether in ancient myth or more recent tales. The guy who solves the mystery or breaks the riddle is always the bloke who thinks outside the box. Theseus, following Ariadne's string out of the labyrinth. Odysseus, tying himself to the mast to not be lured to a watery grave by the sirens. Perseus, killing the gorgon Medusa with a shield polished to serve as a mirror. Just, to stay in the Greek theme."

"A pre-emptive strike for generations ahead." Ravn gives a low whistle. "That's pretty severe, even for the ancient Greeks. Curses almost inevitably have rules, though, you're right about that. There has to be some clause that resolves it -- whether it involves atoning, or solving a riddle, or somehow breaking the mold. It's often some cunning word play -- like only a man not of woman born can slay me tends to mean that whoever can was birthed through a Caesarean. One common denominator, though -- the target of the curse needs to know why they are being punished and how to end the curse. Otherwise there is little point. I think that might be a good place to start -- family history, stories, legends. If we know the what, maybe we can go on the who and the how next."

Ignacio listens and lets Ravn fill in the story as the food finishes. "You know Hotel California is the best description of this place I think I ever heard but... I like to think maybe also a time for us to reinvent ourselves. I also think your'e right. On the Greeks."

The food dings and he snaps up an oven mitt to handle hot things and pulls it back out. it smells like a home cooked meal ought to. Homemade bread crust, seasoned meat, and sauteed veggies in the mix and that cheese melted on top; not too spicy, just flavourful. It's really how his dad would have made it, but there's something with that that seems to have a sense of calm that settles in the kitchen with it. A portion of the pie is separated out and plated and set down in front of Ravn with the words, "Hot." as all the warning one gives before getting his own and something to drink.

"Pre-emptive. You get hurt bad enough you take action. I'm thinking ... my instincts tell me find a way to let her know we are on her side. Things changing, and... that it matters to us too. If we can destroy the enemy by making them a friend I think it stands for best long term solution, you know?"

Ravn stares at the plate that ends up in front of him with the expression of someone whose regular diet consists of eating at the Twofer (onion rings and tater tots), the Waffle Shop (you can probably guess) or the Black Bear Diner (once, but he intends to go back), and otherwise just making do with sandwiches. "You spoil the hell out of me, I hope you realise that."

Nonetheless he doesn't start eating just yet (maybe because the pie is indeed very, very hot). He studies Ignacio's face with clear grey eyes and then nods. "Give me the choice between using violence and a diplomatic solution, I'll probably vote for the latter anytime, at least as long as there is any hope. What you want comes with the assumption, though, that there is a Caelano to appease. That the harpy goddess is real, or at least some Veil creature that thinks it's a thousands of year old goddess is real. So, assuming that we can find out what went wrong two thousand years ago, do you think you'll need to travel to Cyprus to fix it -- or can the Veil be accessed from here to that purpose?"

Ignacio sits and joins him with that easy smile that has decided they'll get through this. "I grew up in a restaurant. My pops taught me how to cook when I was a kid. I dunno.... makes me happy. Something I can do to make someone feel better when I got the answers for nothing else, so really, you do me a favor by eating with me. No problemo."

"Well, that's... a good question. For now? For now we try the Veil and that's saying our navigator can get us where we need to go, and then knowing what to do once we are there. If we have to go to Cypress?" Taking a deep breath eh considers, "My dad gave me money to start over, long ... long story. But... I'd say that counts. If we have to grab a plane to the island to go and take care of this? They can take it. Money's replaceable. now's not I guess. But it's a good damn question. I'll add it to the list of shit we need to sort out." Taking another bite he nods with an appreciating fondness for the researcher, "I'm really glad I asked you."

"Well, getting a visa to Cyprus wouldn't be an issue for me -- Greece is part of the European Union. Probably not a big deal for a US citizen either unlessy your fiancee has some really interesting dark secrets. And you're Spanish -- so, yeah. Let's hope it doesn't come to that -- not that Cyprus isn't nice this time of year, but I imagine that if we're dealing with Veil creatures we already have our hands full." Ravn sticks a fork into the pie and then into his mouth with the obvious delight of someone who is very much not a cook.

Then he smiles slightly, lopsidedly. "You realise, yes, this is my field. But I'm not an expert on Greek mythology. I am glad to help, I'll make myself an expert on harpies if that's what it takes. But anyone with a degree in mythology of some sort should be able to help you out, Ignacio. The really tricky part will be dealing with the bits that are actually real because the closest thing we have to instructions are legends that are two thousand years old."

Ignacio nods in agreement as he eats his sandwich. "Yeah she's got a passport for when we go to Toledo. Spain, not Ohio. o I mean if it takes the rest of what my dad gave me to tart over well? Eh it's a good way to start over. Might take him up on that but, really, what good is knowing shit if we can't use it to make something better. It'll be scary as hell, and educational."

There is so much fond amusement as Ravn lists his credentials, , "Yeah makes you the perfect person to ask. You won't overlook details, but have a broader area of familiarity we can figure out where to go from. Also? It's really interesting. So... yeah. Really glad I asked you."

"I think we should do as much of our homework as we can here. And maybe we won't have to fly to Europe at all. But it's important that we don't just rush off to Cyprus without any idea what we're doing because with all the crazy 'rules' Gray Harbor has, I'll bet my right arm that if there is a Veil opening there, it has just as many crazy rules." Ravn doesn't talk with his mouth full. He's got manners. But he most certainly attacks that omelette like someone used to junk food when he's not talking.

He doesn't talk about money, and the price of flights to Europe, but an arrogant sentimentrings in his ears -- expressed, more than a decade ago, by his mother. Money, she said, all those years ago, is not something you talk about. It's something you have.

Eh, well, he tells her ghost, whatever very warm place it may be occupying these days. The cost of plane tickets is the least of our concerns. Now go back to being dead, mum.

Greek furies and hubris and ancient curses. Ravn shouldn't be quite as excited as he is -- but he is. It helps a little to remind himself that these are very real people being affected. That the Spaniard's girlfriend -- fiancee, whatever her official status is -- is very legitimately afraid of falling victim to a very real family curse that has already claimed a number of very real victims. And that's the difference between story and reality: That in reality, people get hurt.

That in reality, curses are not stories to tell around a campfire. They are problems that need to be resolved.