2020-10-04 - Antiquated Advesaries & Advanced Allies

Being the only antique shop in town, Memento Mori May in fact be solely supported by Atli Addington herself. Not only was she such a frequent buyer that she was known by name, but they kept an eye out for reserving pieces that may interest her. She had received He called earlier that day about a China cabinet where the house she was currently restoring. Atli had requested Lucas come along with her considering they were cohabitating currently. The poor man was going to have to develop an interest in antiques at some point might as well be today.

The air’s briskness has her bundled in white chino’s, a pink knitted sweater, pearls, and leap off print flats. She is browsing about the place excitedly.

Lucas is dressed normally in a GHFD Tee and Jeans, he follows the little blonde in, believing his entire purpose is to act as manual labor for whatever she purchases and needs moved, and that his opinion is very much secondary. He seems just happy to have been included in the outing.

Acknowledging the change of the seasons, Ravn Abildgaard has finally put on a jacket to protect against the elements at least. A sail boat is not the obvious place for a collection of antiques; nor is he the type of person you'd expect to browse around looking for the perfect Tiffany lamp for a den. What seems to have drawn the tall Dane's interest from outside is a small figurine sitting on display in the window -- a small, black cat with green eyes and a heart-shaped white spot on the chest. It sports a very mischievous little smirk, like a creature that knows something you absolutely don't, and will definitely use it against you unless lots of tuna happens.

It would probably pain famous Swedish Chef (oh wait, we're not doing that anymore!) Ravn to find out that the nearest IKEA was over an hour away in Seattle. Where did that leave Abitha to find furniture for her new place? Locally. What better than the place that never seemed to have reliable clientele. The biggest pieces, like the couch, her desk and gaming chair, she'd ordered online. Other accoutrements like a kitchen table, some barstools for the countertop kitchen: they'd have to be mismatched elsewhere, and so, emerald-haired Abitha is slipping through the door to the strange antique shop, looking around.

She comes up short, curious expression meant for shopping dropping into a deadpan. Addington. Lord help her. There's a moment where green eyes flit back toward the door she'd come through, as if considering the nearest safe escape routes.

Atli has just rounded the corner of a makeshift aisle whose lane was directed by larger pieces of furniture when she stood short of smacking into the alien colored tresses before her. Her little crystal pools take in the change with a widened state, just short of horror. “Oh, ummm Ms. Machinae! You uh, changed your hair...how ummm lovely like Easter grass!” It is difficult to determine if this is meant as an insult with how brightly it is conveyed.

Her thick lash rimmed eyes avert from the neon to her suitor. “I’m sure you remember her darling! I believe you were in the hospital together?” Given the shock of hair SO vivid she has yet to see Ravn.

Ravn snaps back to this reality at the sound of voices -- familiar voices at that. This is probably a good thing; one gloved hand had already started to wander towards that little black cat figurine and as it happens, shop owners generally prefer for customers to pay for things before just pocketing them. He even looks a bit sheepish as he realises and turns around, hands tucked firmly into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Oh, hello, folks."

Lucas nods, "Abitha, its good to see you standing up" He smiles softly and nods toward the hair, "It looks nice, really brings out your eyes"

If Abitha could look any more disappointed, someone’s football dad would be envious of the reality bending it would take.

“Miss Addington.” Abitha greets her, voice as flat as a Nevada highway, “And your precious Lucas.” She comments just as mildly as she spots the firefighter alongside her, “You’re shopping where I shop. What are the odds.” The question was clearly rhetorical, though could just as likely be a question flung to the universe in lament. At least, as her eyes flit to Ravn, there’s the slight drop to her shoulders, as if someone else could share the burden of dealing with the blonde. “Hey.” She shoots casually in Ravn’s direction.

Not seeming to either catch or acknowledge the ire a curl is finessed behind Atli’s ear. “Yes he is indeed precious to me!” She bats her eyes at Lucas with a sickening level of infatuation. Atli looks back to Abitha attempting not to stare at her hair. “So sorry to hear your place of business burned to a crisp, please let me know if we can make a donation to getting you reestablished!” Ahhh yes the Addington Royal we.

Atli pivots to see whom Abitha is looking to and spots the copper haired Dane with delight. “Mr. Abildgaard! How lovely to see you again! Lucas, this is Ravn Abildgaard. He is a writer and runs some sort of local seafood battles as well!”

There are ways to say to hello to someone you've only met a few times -- and someone you've never met before at all. The polite thing to do, maybe, is a wave of a hand or an offered handshake, or one could say something like 'how do you do', or 'yo', or even 'what's up, dude'. Anything. Society has a fairly fixed set of rules for what's considered polite.

Those rules probably don't involve the shit-eating grin that spreads across Ravn's face at the mention of seafood. He chuckles. Then he laughs softly. And then he has to turn away to in order to just go on laughing.

It takes him a moment to manage to say, over his shoulder, "Sorry! I think I need a moment!"

And then he just keeps on laughing. High as a kite, no doubt about it.

Lucas frowns a bit at the response of Ravn to Atli's greeting, he looks between the two of them, "Sunny, is there something I am missing here?"

Twitch. Just the way Atli phrases it, ’burnt to a crisp’, Abitha’s eyes narrow a small portion, the barest hint of offense evident as the rest of her face remains flat and neutral.

“Yeah, no, insurance has paid fo-“ she begins, but no doubt Miss Atli Addington had gone on to introduce Ravn by speaking overtop of the gamer, because Addington. This time Abitha’s face can’t remain neutral. Her eyes widen, a snort escapes her, and her hand flies to her mouth to cover it. She doesn’t break into true laughter, even in the face of Ravn’s clear loss of his shit, but it was a close thing.

Hiding a grin behind her hand, Abitha turns to look at a dresser or some shit. Oh yeah, she needed a dresser. Can’t just go Hemnes for everything.

The edges of Atli's mouth tip with the weight of both gravity and the situation before her. This was not proper behavior! A single softly arched brow rises on the horizon of her forehead. Eyes locked to the ill composed man her voice is filled with concern. "Are you quite alright, Mr. Abildgaard?" She gently reaches out a soft hand to grasp Lucas' forearm, in case Ravn might have gone mad. Standing on tip toes she whispers into the firefighters ear, "I think he may be having trouble adjusting here. He mentioned drinking while at the park..."

Atli all but ignores Abitha, the hair in her mind was obviously a cry for attention after losing her dream to a horrible fire. Maybe something classy would be built in it's place like a music shop. Something better from the ashes could be quite poetic.

"I'm so sorry." Ravn manages to settle his face back into some resemblance of a calm exterior though his blue-grey eyes still glitter with obvious amusement. "Sorry, it's just... combat seafood. It's such a relief. Yes, that's me, definitely me, with the fighting lobsters. Grew up training combat crayfish in our pond back home. Or at least that's what the press will tell you. Which is a distinct improvement from what they were saying yesterday. Sorry, it's a -- you know. Gray Harbor thing. I'm definitely going to be all about Lobster Fight Club from now on, yes."

Several salmon short of a sushi restaurant, this guy. No doubt about it.

He extends a hand gloved in black kidskin towards Lucas all the same. "Sorry, I truly am. Name's Ravn Abildgaard. I'm not usually a complete loon. Just, this is such a big relief to me compared to what I had."

Lucas takes Ravn's hand. "Compared to what you had?" He looks confused, "What exactly did you have that an antique store is better then?"

Was Abitha going to keep her composure on that one? Nope, no roll here folks. The gamer’s mouth falls open and emits a high-pitched cackle of amusement before she can stifle it again, putting one hand to the dresser and leaning over it, wavy verdant locks falling in front of her face as she keeps her head turned away and continues to shake in laughter.

Finally, she lifts a hand and pushes her hair up and back, revealing her face again, trying hard to keep a grin in.

Well, at least two people with sense came to browse antiques today...The frown and raised eyebrow is only a strengthened expression given the other two shoppers. Atli does her best to sound like she did not think the dark clad man was absolutely nutters, her tone switching to that of someone who almost didn't believe the words leaving her lips. "How interesting! I'm sure that was quite a fascinating level of family bonding at an impressionable age." Her eyes dart about the place looking for anything to change the subject.

The graceless Abitha was ignored again. Atli had long ago thought the woman's social skills had been abandoned at birth or lost at sea. Both were reinforced possibilities at each encounter.

Ravn glances at Atli and then back at Lucas. The pull of the man is not strong -- much like he imagines his own to be -- but it is indeed there, a small flame of heat that flickers invisibly, faintly. Just like Ravn himself.

"Not the antiques shop," he explains quietly. "Some people have had strange things happen to them. Things that they don't remember themselves, but everyone else does. Absurd things, crazy stories. The story I had was hurting people -- not me, other people. The story I have apparently been given now is a vast improvement. Sure, the idea of crazy foreign bloke running, uh --" he can't help another chuckle "-- Lobster Fight Club is ridiculous. But it's not going to get anybody arrested on drug charges, or getting a divorce, or anything quite that severe. I don't mind looking like a complete idiot if that's what it takes. At least this story is just funny".

He half-turns to shoot a questioning glance at Mac. "Do you remember the old story? Or am I the only one who does, now?"

Lucas pauses as Abitha joins in the laughter from the other side like there is an inside joke he is just not part of. He looks over his shoulder then back at Ravyn ad then at Atli, "Lobster fight club? I mean exactly what is a lobster fight club?"

“Oh I remember,” Abitha was still fighting to hold back a giggle, but had decided maybe she should just go get some shopping done, as this was certainly not her conversation, “The Swedish Gordon Ramsay. Annoying as hell with the strange fame, but not nearly as funny a story as this.” Atli was earning the same sort of ignorance she sent.

Abitha had stopped to stoop before a pair of red-topped barstools, checking to make sure they didn’t wobble. There was a moment where she stops, then jerks her hand back, making a face, but she just looks to move on. “At least until PETA shows up.”

Lucas’s question earns a look over, the gamer still grinning slightly, “Ok, so like, it’s a story, something weird and Veil related. It’s not true, and it’s affected a bunch of us. Like... What do you remember about me, besides the hospital. Have you heard anything?”

Atli answers as though she has been spoken to, a well manicured hand placed to her heart with her commentary. "Well, not me personally, but some people may have suggested it may benefit you to see a therapist." Atli's eyes have a smidgen of pity to them. "I mean that would be understandable if you did given how hard it must be to socialize properly after something like that fire!" Atli doesn't add that the meanie greenie could have stood working on how she speaks to people prior, after all, it wasn't her who was saying this. She had dealt with Abitha far more than she would have liked in this town, which is likely why she didn't understand to what the woman referred.

A confused glance flows to Ravn. "So your family did not in fact raise combative sea creatures? You really shouldn't endorse lies about your identity...It makes getting to know one...difficult..." She trails obviously not knowing what anyone was talking about here. She had not encountered whatever was happening.

"I'm afraid not. My family's in resort management, after a fashion." Ravn hitches a shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry, this is Gray Harbor doing Gray Harbor things. But, there's no way I'm going to be able to convince anyone of that. Better they think I raise combat crayfish than -- what they were thinking before. Because again, other people were getting hurt."

Lucas raises an eyebrow and shrugs, "Your like a computer expert, you had a shop, now you work for the Police Department. " he shrugs, he glances back at Ravyn, "I guess if the entertainment at the resort is sea creature combat that counts as both?" He still looks a little confused.

Green eyes snap to Atli in the moment the blonde finishes her quip. There’s a moment, an intaken breath, a slow closing of eyes, an attempt to be civil. But no, civility was not on the menu today. Abitha turns fully on Atli, who she hadn’t even looked at when she had adressed Lucas.

“Ok, look here, you little shit.” She begins, and Atli had better hope there was still furniture between them, because Abitha was slowly stalking toward the woman.

“I’m not going to take bullshit little snipes from some posh trust-fund baby that’s never struggled or wanted for anything in her fucking life. I was raised by people like your family. I built that shop myself with money I earned, with no help because that’s not the fucking person I am. It was burned down because of fucking criminals.” Abitha was building up to a pretty good tirade at the moment, the anger a marked difference from the wry humor or blankness that usually made up her expressions, “You want to act like some fucking princess, what the fuck has your family done about all this shit? People are getting run off the road, kidnapped, stabbed, shot at, straight up fucking murdered. It must be fucking nice to just be so above it all.”

If no one had gotten between the two of them, Atli would find one green-nailed finger pointing upward at her chin, “So fucking talk shit to me one more time. See who’s going to need professional help once I’m done.”

Atli blinks ever so slowly. Letting go of Lucas' arm, she folds her french tipped fingers politely at the front of her waist. Her words are slow and deliberate, her tone even and a level of customer service polite which Abitha was apparently incapable of. "Ms.Machinae, I might have to join those who suggest you may benefit from speaking to someone about the level of turmoil you are experiencing emotionally. As you stated your establishment was burned down by criminals, so what my family is doing is allowing the police to do their jobs. The option you are suggesting in vigilantism, which involves the kidnapping and harm of those people, making that individual absolutely no better. I trust Alisha and the others to do what they are more than capable of, just as I trust GHFD members like Lucas to put out the fire at your store. Speaking of murder, I was able to afford my house on the fact that my father was murdered by supernatural means, and not criminals. Otherwise I work for my daily income in a far more arduous way than playing games on a computer. At this time all that I can do is do what I have already done and offer assistance with anything you may need in light of your personal tragedy, as well as advise you take a few steps backwards."

The blonde is impassive, somehow she does not even seem irked. Her crystal gaze is intent though, a strength to her suggestion to kindly step backwards.

Lucas puts one hand on Atli's arm, "Sunny dear, shes a computer expert, she doesn't play game, the Police wouldn't be hiring her to do their research if she just played games, saying so does kind of belittle what she does, just like saying I rescue cats from trees would belittle my work, or that you pick out wall paper, or my sister makes coffee" He smiles, "Remember everyone has important jobs to do, and sometimes we don't understand all the work that goes into those jobs when we see the end product." He nods toward Abitha, "We are sorry about you loss, and I think the community service your doing in helping the police to find those kind of criminals is great"

Ravn glances at Lucas. Then he looks at both women. Then he realises that if anyone's going to break this up it's probably going to have to be him. Just, he's not entirely certain which team to root for here.

In one corner, Team Green; hard worker, put through the grinder by the whole false memories affair, helped him out a couple of times, mocked him a couple of times, on the whole, quite neutral.

In the other corner, Team Blond; sounds exactly like -- other people he has been trying very hard to forget. People whose beck and call he used to be at, because that's the done thing when you're engaged to somebody.

Indecision flickers in the Dane's grey eyes before he takes a tentative step forward. "Maybe we should all take a few deep breaths, yes."

Even after a very clear threat, Atli had had the gall to throw an insult at Abitha, and the gamer was very much on the verge of following through before the last sentence even leaves the blonde’s lips.

But... Lucas defends her. Ravn speaks at least some sense.

Even with their mitigations, there’s a feeling in the air of fuzziness, of clothing sticking in places it shouldn’t, and for a moment, even Abitha doesn’t realize there was lighting crawling down her balled fist. When she does, she growls to herself, realizing just how much she’d let Atli Addington crawl under her skin. Glossed lips press into a tight line, a glare spitting the blonde for a moment more, then Abitha turns on her heel and stalks out of the shop, the energy around her dissipating as she went.

Atli turns on the heel of her shoe and places both palms lightly to Lucas' broad chest. Her expression is vulnerable, like an abandoned kitten pleading for a home. This is not disingenuous either, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. "You are entirely correct Love. I should have been kinder, she is dealing with so much...I just didn't appreciate being threatened or belittled. I meant it that she may need to see someone...I couldn't imagine if something I built and cared for turned to ash. Everyone is important..." Her lashes bat and a tear or two falls, "...That just includes me with or in spite of my family." She pulls herself to his chest and gives a gentle whimpering sob.

She then lets go and wipes the edge of her eye with a finger, twisting the top half of her body to Ravn. "I do appreciate your help diffusing the situation. I really shouldn't be so hurt by these things, but finances have nothing to do with the ease of being a family. I wish people would not equate it so. Thank you truly."
Overflowing pools wander to the stools Abitha had been eyeing. "Perhaps I could fix those up as an apology for my behavior, gift them to her." She nods towards the wood.

Ravn glances away, back to the little black figurine he was eyeing earlier. "I, uh. Yes. Yes, I suppose that that can be an issue. I really wouldn't know much about who's who around here. I do know Mac is very good at what she does -- well, better than I am anyway. I suppose that doesn't really say all that much after all, given that I'm pretty internet illiterate. I don't... think getting into a fight is a good idea, no."

Awkward. So very awkward.

Atli throws her blonde curls over her shoulder with a flip of her hair. With a diminutive sniffle she laughs at Ravn's admittance, the sound like tinkling bells. A smile with the full force of standing in the sun's comforting rays on a warm spring day turns to him. "I am too! It's probably why I have trouble understanding the work that goes into it. Never a fight though. I try my hardest to only heal and repair things and people, like Ms. Machinae's head wound when we were at the hospital." How charming Ravn found the blonde was entirely up to him, but the strength of her glimmer seemed to only be an add to her natural bright attitude.

Ravn glances at the door that Mac left through (possibly in order to avoid sudden-onset blindness). He takes a breath and then says, softly, "I don't mean to imply that you would use your... position... unfairly, Miss Addington. I don't know you very well at all. But I think -- perhaps there is a certain risk of others assuming that you will. At least, I've known people who were -- somewhat well off, who preferred to keep their heads down. Because of that. Not that it's any of my business at all, obviously."

Atli refuses to stop shinning in an ardent manner. Her makeup was not even smudged by the few droplets that had cascaded down her cheeks only moments before. "Oh, but surely it is Mr. Abildgaard. We are becoming such fast friends afterall, are we not? In fact!" She points at him as an idea strikes her. "You should come over for dinner soon, we've put a lot of work into the room's restoration!" More gleaming grin. "I could perhaps try to help you resolve what was bothering you in the park, that's what friends do!"

"I was... bothered by some jackass trying to impress his girl by telling me, essentially, that it's absolutely fantastic to throw other people under the bus as long as you don't get hurt yourself." Ravn hitches a shoulder lightly. "And I had some pretty bad news earlier that day. But, really, the whole lobster thing kind of evens it all out. The people who were getting in trouble because of me supposedly being a famous TV celebrity are now -- not, because I'm not. I'm just some crazy foreign guy who breeds combat seafood now. Which is silly, but doesn't break up marriages or get people arrested on drug charges, so I'm really very, very much all right with it."

Atli’s toothpaste commercial smile wilts at the side. “Why-ever would a reputation of world class culinary prowess create drug charges or end marriages? Also who was rude to you if you don’t mind me asking?” Topaz eyes frame concern. This did sound rather terrible!

"Apparently, part and parcel of being a celebrity is that every single person who spends time with you alone is engaging in some scandalous relationship or other with you," Ravn clarifies with an expression of mild disgust. "I have friends who come by. I don't particularly care for them needing to explain to husbands or partners that no, actually, they're not sleeping with me on the side just because the National Enquirer says so. But I imagine that the Enquirer now never said so in the first place, which quite honestly suits me fine. Being followed around town by people with cameras gets old, very, very fast, let me assure you, Miss Addington."

“I have always found them kind and talented, but I have only been followed for town events or pageants, never to that scale. I’m sure that would be rather taxing.” Atli tilts her head, her validation soothing. “I believe you have my card! We will expect you in two days, feel free to reach out prior!”

She removes the tags from the stools to purchase them. This detached her from Lucas. “I would always love to know a fellow neighbor better. Crustacean Combat or otherwise. Excuse me while I pay.” she states moving To the front.