2020-11-24 - The True Addington Horrors (Also, Scotch)

At some point Ravn Abildgaard is probably going to need to sit himself down with a stiff drink and have a serious conversation with himself. It might open with him asking himself, "Ravn, why is it that whenever Hyacinth Addington informs you that you are having lunch or coffee with her, you turn up as instructed without questioning." And then, "Ravn, why is it this woman reminds you of your mother?"

And that's when he'll need the stiff drink.

Truth is, though, Hyacinth Addington carries herself like a lady of high society, with a razor sharp tongue and a stare that makes lesser men wilt. A very familiar attitude -- but unlike a lot of other ladies of her social class, Hyacinth seems to take a very genuine interest in Gray Harbor's community. She is, in her own words, busting her chrome ass to make the town work. And that, at least, is something Ravn can respect.

But he's probably also well conditioned. Another stiff drink now, please.

Either way, he turns up at the appointed hour. Pointedly not dressed for visiting the so-called Lumber Baroness in her beautiful Victorian home, he rings the doorbell wearing jeans, a loose fitting shirt, and a windbreaker. Chin scruff a few days overdue and still quite red-eyed, he really should be using the servant's entrance. If the house has one. It probably does, these old houses all seem to.

It absolutely has one. Hya greets, waves him in and takes his coat with a hand that gestures Gimme. She still seems to function without a housekeeper on hand at all times, but how the woman manages is a wonder. That she can operate her Keurig is sometimes the highlight of amazement. Is she proud of this? You bet. As he steps in there are things to nibble on set out. She made none of them; they are safe for consumption. The Parlor that was the 'null zone' last time there are books piled on teh desk there.

Why she is this contradiction in totalitarian overlord and someone that can't make a sandwich is really unknown. She still distrusts the Safeway because 'all the food is broken' or rather unassembled. Vyv's quit trying to explain it but to be a 'hardware store for food assembly'. Still distrusted. Here she is though welcoming the folklorist into her home to discuss, what? Ghosts? Maybe.

"I am glad you came. I miss being the only person that gives two shits about this project but for when it affects someone else. You ever notice genuine concern tends to only run as long as an attention span?" It's a hell of a hullo but she's not one for small talk. The smile doesn't seem to hide razor sharp teeth at least. "Come in. I invited Alexander but he's not answered his phone and said he was busy. Must be important." and not at all because he's avoiding her out of fear or because he's up to no good. Clearly!

Ravn gives up his windbreaker without an argument. He cracks a half-smile at the sight of the food; recognising, perhaps, that this is another thing the two of them have in common. Neither can boil an egg without setting the kitchen on fire. This is clearly a flaw in the upbringing of rich people's kids everywhere.

"I'm still not entirely certain what 'this project' is," Ravn confesses. "But you're talking about ghosts or you're talking about a festival that helps tie the community together, and both have my interest, so either works. Given you mention Alexander, though, I'm guessing ghosts -- Clayton's a good man but he doesn't strike me as the kind who sits around arranging art festivals."

Well rich kids everywhere sans Vyv. Show off. There's an amused laugh and a roll of her eyes trying to picture that with a wry smile, "God no. Even in high school he was like that. Weird and creepy as he is he really does come through for the town more than most and that is... commendable even if I have the constant urge to hose him off at the porch because I have no idea where he's been snooping around. I hope he can join us this afternoon." Her hand swims in a bit of a figure 8. "Either way in the Harbor the town and the ghosts aren't all that different. The trick is to help them resolve their shit, be interesting, not kill or drive of the tourists. " She walks barefoot, now with the fabrication am imitation of her organic appendage across the wood floors to the room in question, and no null in place. Does it move? Does it float? Is there a switch?

Ravn does note the absence of the null field -- or rather, that the room doesn't make him feel like he's gone blind this time. He's not really very sorry about that. "I like Clayton," he says aloud. "He doesn't seem particularly weird or creepy to me. Twitchy, yes. Considering the things he's told me about his past, I would be a lot more twitchy if our roles were reversed. I'm told I'm pretty twitchy as it is, and I assure you that when I was a boy, my toys never came alive to try to eat me, and I've never been accused of cannibalism, either."

He follows Hyacinth towards the table and rubs his eyes a moment with a gloved hand. "Sorry. I had a bit of a rough day yesterday, didn't get much sleep. This whole weed cloud thing, and an argument with a friend -- I'm a little out of it. But you have my full attention all the same."

Hyacinth pivots on the balls of her feet. Her eyes still a bit bloodshot but lined and ready to take on the world like mascara is social warpaint. She blinks. "Oh the deuce you say? Help yourself to the bar. It'll be a joy not to drink alone and it's not day drinking if there are sandwiches and sociable company. Dish, what happened?" Her hand flaps for him to help himself to a minibar that is very much a classic piece in style but not actual age. On that she does wade back through the first floor to retrieve the bounty of tiny snackfoods. "Vyv had these dropped off for me so I don't die or hurt anyone. He's so thoughtful. Go on." The platter is held out while she takes a bite of what looks like prosciutto, cheese and little bread bits.

Ravn helps himself to a very generous scotch before he more falls than sits down on a chair; he takes it as is in spite of usually preferring ice. "Well, if Vyv made us lunch then we might even survive eating it. It could be worse -- it could be me. I am utterly helpless in a kitchen. I practically live at the Twofer and at the Black Bear where meals are concerned. I really should learn sometime."

He equips himself with various little bits of cheddar, chorizon, and brie on pumpernickel bread, along with a few slices of honey lemon -- a nice contrast but not too sweet. "It wasn't a serious argument -- or, it was, but not the kind where you slam the door and never speak again. Just going to be a little awkward, I suppose. Remember that talk we had at the Patisserie? It was one of those talks."

Hyacinth takes a note of what and when. The scotch gets a nod though there's a stray warning, "Careful, that'll definitely put hair on your chest." The tray is sat down on the low table. She takes up residence only after grabbing the top most part of that stack and bringing it over. "Well, all I can say to that is... there' more scotch. And I wouldn't bet on people either minding their own business or not dragging you into things." There's a pause and as if to prove the point adds, "I am details amicable and you will be probably dragged into other things. but hey, on a positive note that makes me right which in this case still works in our favour."

Ravn samples the scotch and nods his approval; whether it puts hair on his chest indeed remains undisclosed at the moment -- but he does look like he needed that. "Well, it's not like half this town hasn't looked my name up on Google or something. It's not a big deal either. Except that my not saying anything hurt a friend, and that bothers me. Itzhak tried to show me something -- he went into my head and saw the true me there, and he didn't like what he saw. I didn't realise it, Hyacinth, but I made him feel that I betrayed his trust. I'm not very happy about that."

Hyacinth bring up a hand and shakes her head, "First, we are under zero obligation to disclose all our personal shit to other people. Someone wants to go into my head and accuse me of not disclosing all my personal shit to them while they root around in there that's not my problem and maybe then don't fucking dig. I adore me some mechanical genius but he's emotional to a fault. He'll get over it. I have no doubt you'll recover, but that one is not on you." There's a pause and she looks very confused, "Like maybe you weren't to that point yet dear god. People and... letting their feelings control them I don't get, but I'm regularly called ice bitch so it is what it is. It does suck that it's difficult."

Ravn nods slightly over the rim of his whiskey tumbler, swirling the amber liquid inside and watching it. "I don't feel I have to disclose anything to anyone -- except for a very few people whom I consider friends. Truth of the matter is that I kept quiet around Itzhak because I didn't want him to get awkward about it. And that is on me. I'm the one who worried he might not care for the friendship of some privileged foreigner slumming it around him. He's never said anything of the sort."

Hyacinth tilts her head to the side and there's some consideration being worked out there. "Hmmmm he'll get over it because he wants to. There's no value in this grudge and other hills to die on. Someday eventually he'll get over all these feelings things. Until then Itzhak is...Itzhak. I may have had a feeling once but found I found myself terribly allergic and broke out in caring. Alcohol is a phenomenal fix for this. I recommend it until the time has passed and status is again quo." How much exaggeration is on that is anyone's guess. "Really though, it'll mend."

Ravn smiles slightly; he gets the joke. Nonetheless he says, "That was my mother's solution to a lot of things. Alcohol, sedatives. I like a drink as much as the next man but I resolved to not solve my problems that way." A resolution which is clearly not keeping him from enjoying Hyacinth's rather excellent scotch.

He runs the tip of a gloved finger around the edge of the glass and admires the way the light sparkles in its contents. "You're right about Rosencrantz. He is emotional. It's part of what I like so much about him. He's not afraid to feel. Not many men are that ready to face themselves -- I know I'm not. I find it easier to bite back on most things and just walk away. But I'm also thirty years old and still the emotional equivalent of a confused teenager. Feelings are hard. Attachment is hard. I worry about upsetting him -- not because I don't think he'll get over it. I know that he will. But because he is my friend and I have allowed myself to become attached to friends here. It's a new and undiscovered territory to me, this whole -- opening up, letting anyone in."

Hyacinth watches, maybe unconvinced. "Feelings are..." There's a deep breath and a thoughtful mulling about, "Inconvenient in so much as they hurt and they block reason and 100% of the time lead straight to disappointment. I can't say I care much for these things."

One leg crosses over the other, organic over artificial, as she settles back considering this more than the stack for the meantime. "Why... are you doing this is what I wonder, like... what do we gain from that? Vulnerabilities are exploitable and if you are left exposed people use that to hurt the things that mater. It's rather...curious." Maybe Ravn can make sense of it better than she can there.

"I don't know," Ravn admits. "I have been telling myself for months that I am making a mistake. That I should get up and move on. But the urge to stay is greater, I guess. I'm thirty years old and this is the first time in my life I've felt I belonged anywhere. The last three years I never stayed anywhere for more than a few days. Never got attached, never got to know anyone, kept my own company mostly, or at least only knew people for a day or two. And then suddenly I've been staying in Gray Harbour for four months and it feels like -- I am not going anywhere anytime soon. It feels right. Even if it's probably going to hurt like hell sometimes. People aren't any more saintly here than they are anywhere else -- there's always someone who feels it's their right to take advantage of others, or exploit them."

Hyacinth sinks back into the couch listening, genuinely curious. "This town has a way of calling back what it wants. I was going to go back to Europe. Study more there. Work on," There's a deep breath and wistful thoughtfulness, "really old stuff. Preserve it for another age. The Harbor calls. Maybe there's a plan. I can probably guarantee there is I just... don't care much for the plan, or feeling like the only one in the room who cares anymore. Easier to focus on your projects and let people... be. Careful though," Her finger points to him with some amusement making a little circle, "Itzhak has a way of making people have feels. It's terribly inconvenient."

"I like the way Rosencrantz makes me feel. Like anything I say or do actually matters." Ravn nibbles on a few grapes. He seems to be a very light eater on the whole, judging from now and past lunch dates at the Patisserie -- the kind of man who enjoys a good piece of cake but doesn't actually eat a lot of it. "I like that I am even capable of caring whether I hurt him. I never would have, before. Just have walked away. Not my problem, not my monkey. Responsibility is... a good feeling."

Hyacinth settles into the arm of the couch, fingers curled with the edge of her jaw resting on them. "That sounds amazing really. In truth I'm a big jealous of that liberty you have. That you can find that in other people? Kinda a skill that one can lose. Hang onto that, just... I don't even know. I am likely the last person to take personal advice from. I get to put that effort and energy into projects for people, you know? Essential choices. Things people overlook. I so admire that you're putting yourself out there. If you're going to stay though... you should figure out why. Build around that" At least she didn't say- "Stop living in a shoe box." And there it is with a faint grin.

Ravn smirks lightly. "I won't be living in a shoe box for long. Come spring, I'll be back on the water. In a boat that's significantly smaller."

He's teasing Hyacinth a little, no doubt. Picking out a small slice of melon he says, "I don't need space, Hyacinth. I don't entertain, I don't throw parties, I don't have people staying over. All I need is somewhere to sleep, a fridge, and a sink. Maybe sometime I'll look into finding something more... sustainable. A small apartment, maybe -- it just seems like more effort than I can be bothered with at the moment. And maybe I'm a little afraid of the whole idea of getting a home -- that'd sort of cement my decision to stay here. Once you have a home you're definitely not going to just get up and leave."

Ravn pauses and then adds, with a small laugh. "Unless of course you count my home in Denmark which I absolutely got up and left. I did rent it out, though."

Hyacinth grins shaking her head. "Look if you're going to keep the boat you should at least have it sustainable. It's kinda great really. If you want to head out you can. Come back when you want to. in that effect I think it suits you. But for the love of Christ Almighty redo the cabinets and the shower. It's possible you know."

There's a smile, hidden that does light up her eyes though that could be her mojito, "Wheeeeen I lived in Savannah I found this garden rooftop flat to rent. Like I could pick what I wanted, sure, but it was only $400 a month. Cheap as hell. One large room with a closed off bathroom. It wasn't all Gone With the Wind that I had in mind but you'd step up to get into the kitchen that was separated entirely by a glass wall with French doors. Then there was a second set of doors on either end of that that would walk out onto the roof and there was a raised veggie garden and a view of the entire middle of the downtown from there and three parks. It was so...quiet but still in the middle of everything vigilant, watching. I always wondered living there if that's the feeling birds get or if those little crumbgrabbers just take it for granted."

There's a pause and she takes another sip shaking her head. "Honestly? I think you sound like you love the boat for the same reason I loved that garden apartment. Because it's very much not theirs and you make it yours."

"That's... probably exactly why, to be honest. The Vagabond is my thing. She's not big or luxurious, but she's sea-worthy and she's got the kind of space I need." Ravn nods; Hyacinth's analytical powers are astute. "That flat doesn't sound half bad though. Truth is, I'm kind of trying to decide what I want to do in the long term. You and Vyv did have a point -- about the whole, do what you do and do it well, but is cleaning tables really what I want to do, thing. Got me thinking. I never expected to hold down any job here for more than a few weeks at best."

He shrugs lightly. "I'm not in a situation where I am desperate for funds. I can afford to take my time and find out what I really should be doing. Something which leads me back to the whole purpose of this crazy journey, which was twofold. Getting away from some things back home and finding out what I actually want to do with my life. I'm no closer to the second, unfortunately."

Hyacinth bounces her foot looking rather pleased with herself. Like the other half of 'Team Rocket', Vyv, she usually likes being right. "Well I can offer something without strings that is not a charity that would help out if you are ever interested as its situation rarely changes state. I do have a few properties managed that can use an occupant in exchange for their general upkeep and reports on 'wellness', so that is to say, occupy and keep it clean so it doesn't fall into disrepair. Gather info from the other properties if there's an issue and report those. So you don't have to do the repair, but doing so handles rent for the flat. Or..."

There's a pause with a shake of her head, "You can just rent the damn thing. It's small. You can see the water though. I just... like making sure it's not going to be destroyed ya know? You care about your work and I just like something I put all that time into appreciated. It's exciting though. This spot you are in? Soooo you are moving to Gray Harbor for the time being. Now to figure out how to talk to her and ask 'what is it I want to give back?" Taking another sip one finger uncurls from around her glass to point at him, "You might be a while figuring that out."

"More a case of what do I want to do with my life, I think." Ravn can't help a small smile at Hyacinth's obvious pleasure in having been proved right. "But then, I've taken thirty years so far to ask myself that, and the only thing I know for sure is that I don't want to teach. I'm not good at it, and I hate the attention. You know what I am good at, Hyacinth? I'm good at being a hustler. A boardwalk scam artist. But I can't build a career on that, either -- in part because I would end up in trouble with the law at some point, which means the very abrupt termination of my tourist's visa."

Hyacinth There's a question and she guesses, "Not letting the things you are entitled to derail your focus that it's a responsibility to be respected and not an extravagance to be squandered?" There's a longer pause for the answer as shedips into her drink when the boardwalk scam artist comment brings a wide , amused grin. "Ravn, call it performance art and people will flock to it. The joys of bullshit marketing. You should consider playing more. Also you should let yourself accept help. Take it from a lifelong pro that little more is gained when you tell everyone no I can do this on my own. Sometimes it's easier and we are pleasantly surprised what inclusion brings about."

"Ah, but that's what it is -- a performance, and an art." Ravn grins back over the rim of his glass. "No one walks up to a boardwalk hustler without expecting to be ripped off. The art lies in how it is done. They want to see if they can catch me cheating -- and they want to be impressed when they can't. The game may be a fake card reading or the ever-popular three cups and a nut, but everyone involved knows that the true game is one of who can spot who. No one expects any different either, unless they're five years old. In which case I tended to let them win because, well, they were five years old and having fun is the point."

Then he sobers a little as he looks at the woman across the table. "I'm not sure I understand exactly what it is I am supposed to need help with, Hyacinth. I appreciate the offer -- greatly. One of the differences between you and I is that you were born into a situation where you feel responsible for this town and this community. I understand that, and I admire it -- but something similar was not true for my family since 1849. I have a level of responsibility for the people who work for my family's businesses -- which I suppose are mine, now, but I've never been involved with these companies, and the people who do run them are doing quite well. If anything, the best I can do there is stay away and uninvolved, because I have no background in finances or business. You are a community leader. I'm essentially the European equivalent of a trust fund kid with no real obligations."

"You're aware of it." She finishes her drink and waves the now empty glass but for the ice with a tink "That's it. You know how many members of my family might rightly say 'because I'm a Addington'? as if they have at all contributed to shit yet other than having really super pretty genes? You don't .... buy people with your means. Weirdly - and no one will believe you if you tell them I said this- I appreciate that. That... is all. You don't understand. That's fine. Maybe they don't have that there. Effectively it's being the custodian of a property so it doesn't go bad. Like a car a place needs to stay in use. it keeps it clean and important things lubed and prevents it from being claimed by nature...sometimes aggressively."

"I think I can imagine," Ravn agrees. "Entitlement at least I am familiar with. But a fancy name doesn't make you special, Hyacinth. You already know that. I have eight hundred and fifty years' worth of fancy name, and I am not special. I'll admit that every now and then, when I run into someone who feels very important because of their father or grandfather making a fortune, I struggle to not laugh. But that's more a matter of how silly it all is."

He laughs softly. "The people who cling very hard to these things are almost inevitably quite intolerable."

"I do understand what you mean about being a custodian to your local community, though, at least on a theoretical level." Ravn reaches to refill his glass. "It used to be like that for feudal families in Europe. I mean, that is literally the translation of the term 'liege'. The ruling family of the land is responsible for the welfare of the land, and the people on it. They are co-dependent, and at least in medieval times, both had duties and obligations to each other. That's what you're talking about here -- that being an Addington makes you responsible for Gray Harbor. Noblesse oblige -- this is your fief, and you'll bloody well take care of it. I respect that."

Hyacinth is appeased. Put this one on the calendar, folks. Is it the drink? Maybe but at least the judgments have dropped leaving the conversation to wonder as it does. There's a smile, sans teeth and everything. "I'm glad you came with Itzhak to get his violin. How long have you been playing exactly?" Yes, she picked that up like astute little owl who pays attention when not crushing the mice of the world. "Does that make you happy? It makes me very curious traveling half the world around did you find your joy yet or just more questions."

Ravn glances at the window before looking back at Hyacinth. "I've played since I was six," he says after a moment. "We practise together, sometimes. I am finding I am learning a great deal from Rosencrantz -- he doesn't just play, he performs. I even went to see him perform at Sitka -- he had the audience there eating out of his hand. Bloody amazing, and definitely not the last time I've gone, either."

He cants his head in that way of his that tends to mean that he is thinking about how to read a question, and indeed, what to answer. For a few breaths there is silence. Then, "Playing is something that's mine, yes. Pleasure in music is something you can't force on someone, or take away from them. It doesn't matter if you're good at it or bad at it -- only that you enjoy it. As for travelling halfway around the world, though -- I don't think I went looking for joy as much as I went running away from unhappiness. I am happier here in Gray Harbor than I ever was at home. I've made friends here. I care about people here. Crazy as it may sound, I can see myself staying here for -- a considerable time. It's insane, I know, everyone do keep telling me to get out while I can -- but I think that window closed very quickly after I arrived, and I'm probably here to stay."

Hyacinth tilts her head listening and shakes her head, "I... lack musical talent but I do appreciate it. My brother plays piano well but... I was always more interested in how it functions and how it looks I guess? I Think it's important to find something you love and adore it for the simplicity of it being yours. That's kind of... this house for me? I dunno. I get you though." And with that she pushes herself up to go hunt the bottle and bring it back and top off Ravn's glass. "People fear what they don't understand and what they don't already control rather than learn to navigate strange waters. You can't let the fear scare you or the fear wins and it's...as simple as that. The city is wonderful though if one believes in the city. She's terribly misunderstood and neglected in many means."

"Fear scares me. I suffer from anxieties." Ravn accepts the refill with a smile and raises his the glass to Hyacinth in a small toast. "But I refuse to let it win. Sometimes, it wrecks me. Most of the time, though, I manage to walk past it. I allow myself to be afraid and then act anyhow. To walk through it, and come out on the other side, almost as in a Frank Herbert novel. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. I memorised the Litany of Fear as a teenager. I also thought myself very clever for learning something important from a science fiction novel so old and dusty that surely, no one this side of the turn of the century had ever heard of it. I was a bit oblivious in some ways."

He quirks an eyebrow at Hyacinth calling the city -- or town -- of Gray Harbor wonderful, though. "You realise that you are the first person I have met who called Gray Harbor anything but horrible, besides myself? I know people here who have found happiness in spite of the Veil and the things the Veil inflicts. But I have never met anyone before who sees Gray Harbor as a good place. I thought that was pretty much just me -- and I see it that way because I like for my demons to be visible and tangible and, well, able to be taken down."

"Courage," She says putting the cap on the decanter, "Is not the absence of fear but the mastery of it." There's a pause and she tacks on plainly, "I read that. I couldn't tell you where. It was college and remembering art school is... a strange creature." Shaking her head, she adds, "To those of us that then know fear. Frank Herbert he the Dune guy or a different sci-fi guy?" The smile warms when he talks about the town in that way it is somehow genetically attached to her and taking the compliment personally. In a certain sense that is true of her and many. "This city is both my mother and my child. It taught me, like a phoenix, what things are out there and also how to defeat them so I can make it stronger."

There's a pause and a hitch in her words pausing and stating as fact, but a guarded and personal one, "I was eight years old when I was pulled across the veil at the sawmill. There was no team of people. There was no super heroic ooh rah. There was no defiant stand deciding because we don't like something that we're just better than it. I was never supposed to be there... but I was. We don't always get to choose these things but I decided I was not going to sit still because sometimes no one's coming. So when I say I respect that you respect your fear and learn from it know it comes from a place that is personal."

"The Dune guy, yes." Ravn nods and listens to Hyacinth's story. He loses the smile as it progresses; the idea of an eight year old trapped behind the Veil, in its strange, dark realities, does not seem to amuse him at all.

"I understand," he says at length. "I did not have any experiences like that as a child. But I've spoken to several other people here who did -- Alexander Clayton whose toys tried to eat him, and Grant Baxter who ended up trapped on the wrong side. I don't make light of how terrible things here can be, when I call Gray Harbor a good place. There is nothing good about the Veil or the Dark Men. The good is in the people here, the humans who stand together against the darkness. And that is what I am coming to love about this town -- that the enemy is real, it can be confronted, and that we can do so together. Until I came here, my fear was insubstantial and in my head, and I kept being told that I should take pills for it."

Hyacinth perks right back up and focuses down on *that8 "Ah! I thought I remembered his name. I remember Sting in leather underoos. I always wanted to do set design for something futurey like that. I'll have to tell Justin to make a space film so I can consult on that. Something with desert locations and little alien bug people. That'd be nice. Different-ish." You know there's the whole Veil thing. These things sort of sporadically happen.

"No, you don't. It's why I'm telling you this. You don't take it lightly and... you don't fall apart. The pills can help focus and sometimes be nice if you have meetings about the same shit and just need to zone out a little while. Not a huge fan of things being out of balance. I also heard Dune's having another thing on tv soon. I'm really hoping it's not terrible." She doesn't pat his shoulder but she does tink his glass. "Wait til you hear the rest of the town and then you'll start to really question necessity vs. ethics with me. The company'll be nice tho."

"I never had much benefit of anxiety medication," Ravn admits. "I mostly just felt like I was standing next to myself, as terrified as ever but too tired to get annoying to anyone else about it. I know they help some people -- I'm just not one of those people."

He tinks back with a small smile. "I do appreciate the vote of confidence. To me, though, it is all very simple. There's us and there is them. Us are people who will stand up for one another and do what they can when the manure hits the fan. Some can do more than others. Personally, I'm pretty useless in a combat scenario, though if it comes to telling what the creature currently chewing on someone's head is and what mythology it crawled out of, I'm your man. The point isn't how much you can do, but that you do it. And on the other team, there's them which is the Dark Men, of course -- but also any human who's willing to throw others under the bus in order to make their own getaway."

The Dane sips his whiskey thoughtfully. "It's not that simple, I know that. There are things going on Gray Harbor that go on anywhere, no doubt -- drugs, domestic abuse, theft, the things people get up to. It's not all right, obviously. It's just -- most crime and other typical human issues seem so... small, compared to what's going on here sometimes. Who cares about a bit of double book-keeping or the occasional bout of prostitution, when there are ghosts and serial killers and gods of dead religions eating people?"

Hyacinth lets the observation breathe with her glass. There's a pause and her head tilts one way and then the other as if deciding what to do about the overall design of the situation. Jet hair swings when her attention snaps back, "Tell me do you want to talk ugly truths or things you find delight in. I feel we are very much at a divergence in this conversations and... I don't know if I'm to be the good guy or the monster here and o often it is the latter and that's fine. I don't want to kill a good mood and..." She pauses taking a long drink rolling her free hand in a circle getting herself comfortable, "I don't want to gloss past the secrets of the universe if that's what you're after. You choose, luvvie. I know you are competent to the difference so you tell me." There's a pause and while she is reluctant to admit it she does with a sigh. "I don't find you deplorable so I figure direct is better than sitting here guessing. What're you up for?"

Ravn cants his head in that 'I need to think for a second' way of his again and then says, "I think I pick things we find delight in. Ugly truth is a common topic around here. Things to take joy in, not so much. But without them, what's the point?"

He cracks a small, lopsided smile at being called not deplorable. "Am I to understand, though, that you find most people deplorable, Hyacinth? I can never quite tell with you and Vydal -- whether you genuinely both loathe humanity, or you find it quite likable, if only it'd be as kind as to stay downwind."

Rather than give an answer the Great Purveyor of Judgyness lights up with a bright grin, "Oh god you can't?! Ah! That's amazing. I love it. I love it, I love it." Definitely more expressive than with an audience. "Well first you have to answer are you talking humanity or are you talking about people and if so which people beeeecause, heh, there is a huge difference. between humanity," which she gestures with one sparkle manicured hand to be one pile, "and people," which don't go in another pile so much as off over there.

"The people that want to be part of a a solution instead can be part of the problem get their own group and they can be the humanity users group or whatever. They'll need an acronym. HUG? Terrible. We'll work on that. To be blunt most people are not in this group. They can be. They opt out because it's entirely easier to care about superficial shit than something...substantial and get their shit together." he takes another sip and points to him. "Favourite music and why? Go."

The Dane can't help laugh at the dramatics of the woman across from him. Hyacinth manages to somehow remind him very much of women he's known in another life -- and at the same time, she manages to weaponise that whole shallow and slightly dramatic bearing and turn it into something razor sharp that he can't quite help admire.

Still smiling, he replies, "I have many favourite pieces of music, for many situations. I admire much classical music since I understand the effort that goes into it -- but at the same time, folk music often has far more soul even if it is much simpler. I enjoy a fair bit of classical rock -- and there's a whole genre of European electronica that I rather like, too. If I have to name one single band though, I'll have to go with something old and American -- Creedence Clearwater Revival. Some of their pieces speak to me in a fashion that had me quite obsessed as a teenager."

There is a delight there, music. Trying to imagine this she tilts her head back with a wry grin, "You know when we were kids whenever the big paddle wheel tour boat would come in daddy used to since us Black Water...wait that's the Doobie Brothers. Whatever. It was a really great era for music and boats. CCR..." There's a deep breath and a grin that forms "Tells us that that right now sucks, but that's alright cause if we can get through this there are little things worth coming out of the other side of it for. Like a lazy summer in a song. It's kinda nice honestly."

"Not too far from Lodi or Proud Mary, though." Ravn cants his head, thinking for a moment. "Those were the songs that planted the idea in my mind, of just -- walking. Pack your bag, get on a bus, go wherever it might take you. They're a little sad, but at the same time, they're about being free of burdens and obligations. On your own, for the good and bad of it. And Fortunate Son, of course, but that can't surprise anyone who knows me."

He smiles too. Perhaps those generous amounts of whiskey are doing their thing on the often somewhat uptight Dane. "Life sucks, yes -- and then you meet someone who buys you a coffee and gets you a place to sleep, and in the morning, it's not so bad after all. There are little things worth coming on the other side for, very much so."

"I miss... sitting in the park and drawing it. I miss walking on little old crappy cobblestone roads looking up at all the row houses with their courtyards snuck between, and I think... I think I was happiest there. Things weren't perfect and it was work, but I loved it. My life wasn't filled with other people's things. My responsibilities were to me and it was good." There's a wry amusement that comes in a floating drift of wondering out loud, "I'd ask if you miss being 20-something and blithely wandering through things but I think you're living the dream now. That's good. I'm glad you are."

"I'm a late bloomer." Ravn nods; he is inarguably happier where he is now than he's been for a very long time. "Nothing is ever perfect -- but they can be flawed and good at the same time. You could -- probably go back to that to some extent, Hyacinth. You don't have to save the entire town on your own. There are a lot of people here who will gladly help. And some who will likely try to screw it all up, but that's humans for you. Sometimes, I get the impression that you carry the entire Addington legacy on your shoulders, all by yourself. But Gray Harbor is not a medieval fief, Hyacinth -- you're allowed to put in only as much as you want. And to take time for yourself and your own pleasures too."

Hyacinth watches with a kindness (1 of 4 she will have all year. Enjoy this!) "Yeah that's not why I'm here. I'm here to quite literally prevent people from getting butchered like sheep. It's...gross and horribly gauche, I know. But... thi town is cursed beeeeecause my ancestors were very... opportunistic and didn't care where that came from. And now/ Now we have to keep last summer from repeating and since the people who were doing that are...retired someone needs to do this and my family is mostly," A deeper breath than she'd like to admit, "Inept to be blunt. I know, like... total killjoy. "

Her eyes roll up, ponytail swinging, "When this town stops claiming lives because the person genetically able to do something about it won't? Well then maybe I'll move . We're bound though, she and I, so... there's that. But that's where, I'm afraid you have this wrong, a little bit,. The history of the town is quite real, and the things they don't talk about more so. Being an Addington isn't about fame, it's about keeping that curse at bay. And... I'm tired of seeing the people I love get fed to that beast to become monsters and I don't..."There's a smirk, but her fingers brush the emotion away from her cheek that betrays her intent to cover it. "I don't know what I'll be at the end of it. So let's... enjoy those memories we have before something eats them."

Ravn puts the glass down and steeples his fingers under his chin, listening very carefully. Only when Hyacinth pauses does he look at her again. "And that's the question I've been asking people for three months. What the curse of Gray Harbor is. How it ties in with the Addingtons and the Baxters. Only no one knows, and those who know, won't talk about it."

He looks at the slender woman with intent, blue-grey eyes. "I get it. I think I get it, at least. I'm not in that position myself, obviously. But I do get the part where your ancestors did all kinds of horrible things, and now you're stuck with the name and the family bad conscience. But you're not alone here, Hyacinth. You don't have to stand alone."

Hyacinth boggles and shakes his head taking a longer moment than she'd like to to put herself together again, "Well I tried telling you. Everyone wants an easy fix: Oh go smudge the thing and throw three coins into the fountain and it's not that simple. No one wants to know the truth, Ravn. The truth is ugly and makes us feel helpless and therefore people don't want to know about the damn thing."

Drawing a deep breath she doesn't get upset but laughs in a curious, dark amusement, "It's not a bad 'family conscience'. It's still happening. Last year my grandfather that helped raise me killed 23 people; family, and all portents keep showing this... thing that awakened is till not going to stop. Also whoever your Baxter friend is? Tell them not to die in the city limits if they know what's good for them. That's a warning, not a threat. And yet... Alexander still won't.... leave. I swear he's going to be the next of them." Sparkly nail points to the stack. "Don't start by assuming the past is buried. Our sins of the past are very much alive and they are very, very angry, friend. I'm pretty certain if you make it to the part of what they've been doing in recent years to keep all literal Hell from breaking lose you might never talk to me again...and I don't blame you."

"I don't know what it is you have done, Hyacinth. But I do know enough about Gray Harbor to know that Hell here is very literal. And I've heard enough about the mass murderers and the murderous rampages of Gray Harbor to know that there is no such thing as 'acceptable losses', either." Ravn continues to study the woman in front of him. "But the only difference here between you and me is that my family didn't build their holding on a thin point. If they had, I'd have eight hundred and fifty years' worth of shitty ancestors milling around, expecting me to hold everything together and maybe fish them out of the Hell a lot of them probably ended up in."

He shakes his head lightly. "I keep saying that to a guy like me, Gray Harbor is paradise. But it's paradise because people here stand up for each other. So let me -- tell me how to help you, Hyacinth. With more than just writing a check."

Hyacinth looks like the entire cake was shaken at the plate. To this end she rises to busy herself doing something which is refilling glasses because this is a topic that requires gin. That's just the way it is. "Alright."There's a long pause and a deep breath composing herself, "From the beginning then?"

She pulls from the middle of the stack an old book with many pages added to it. I it there are pictures and, yes, the data she provides in thumb notes. "This cannot leave the house. You remember when you came over and I told you we didn't found this town? You will be very hard pressed to find the ones that did. It was in that time of settlement that the land and business alone was not taken from them, but something else."

"I remember you saying that, yes. And I remember telling somebody else that Gray Harbor's problems almost undoubtedly originates from one or other of those people back then doing something they shouldn't have. That's how these stories work, Hyacinth. There's an Indian burial ground, there's somebody killing somebody else at the wrong time, there's a betrayal, or a family secret -- whatever it is, there is hubris. Somebody did something, and it let the darkness in. Getting the darkness back out -- that's the hard part."

He leans back in the chair, cradling his glass in one gloved hand. This, after all, is what a folklorist does -- listen to stories, and draw conclusions from them.

Hyacinth there's a slow nod and her hand gestures for him to not make her drink alone. "Yeah. That thing was discovering...the Veil. While the Baxters were hard working folk I can't imagine they were very shrewd. I mean... they lost all their lands to us and after that... I don't have all the details but," There's a frown that is uncomfortable even on her. "What happened to that seems to point to some sort of compact between teh Addingtons and the veil. What I know is that when a Baxter dies things... change. That's why you don't find Baxters in the cemetery. That's why the one that was put there is very much gone. Fed, all of them, to the sawmill, and destroyed on the other side like... some sort of fucking blood offering. When that's not kept? Hmmm the keepers of the breech, that's"

Her nail makes a circle filling in the details leaning a bit further on the arm of her chair than she needs to, "us here. While I have no personal love for the Baxter family I disapprove of kowtowing to some alien thing forcing our hand so we can suckle the magic off the tit of terrible things so they can keep their iron grip on things."

Hand and glass raised in the air there is pure... anger and diappointment one can slice with a knife, "This shit used to be done on merit and now it's OH well shit this angry serial killer that tried to murder the Addington family to a man- And with some reason though let's be real the guy is a total tool and a nutjob- now we have to keep him bound and pick who dies or he's going to start picking at random. So ooooh let's not upset the old lady or she'll pick who goes next."

Draining her glass she says louder than she needs to, "I don't want to pick people to die, Ravn, even if people that wear socks with sandals are really really asking for it!"

Hyacinth is not the only person present to need a good helping of alcohol to wash down that story. There is quite a difference between writing an academical analysis of Faust -- and finding yourself face to face with the titular character.

"No wonder your family doesn't want to talk about it," Ravn says at length. "Your ancestors struck the classical Devil's bargain, and here you are, custodian of a deal you never wanted, but you can't get out of. I did know about the Baxters being... fed, to the sawmill. I did not know that the... sacrifices, for lack of a better term, are still ongoing. But speaking as someone who regularly wears socks with sandals, I am very much in favour of putting an end to it. Do you have any ideas what the bargain is?"

"Not classic, it was custom!" Hya's always going to be defensive of unique features though. This is not new. "There's some tie like the souls of the Baxters force the game closed or something when they die out. Might be tied to them and we just, ya know, prevent them from doing... that somehow. I need Alexander's math on that. He's, sorry thing, on the Baxter side of this equation." She quickly interjects, "Don't remind him about it. I'd be sensitive too were I Clayton, and people like me held plans to demise and servitude in the afterlife or...whatever." Her hand does a full rotation in encompassing 'all of that'.

Bluntly she says "Look I don't want to be the next mass murder or mass...anything. I don't do buying in bulk! I want to find a balanced and modern solution and we need to...figure out how it works. Everyone wants to be a cowboy, but no one wants to clean up the messy parts and it is pointedly not simple. So if you want I can arrange a meeting because I think we might be...overdue. After we have a document we'll call Byron. He's been taking notes. My cousin is and...interesting sort. Vyv was at ground zero. He might have some insights for us."

"I'm not in the loop on most things here, Hyacinth, and I don't know all the people involved." Ravn taps a gloved finger to his lower lip, thinking. "I'm certainly not related to any of you that I know of. But I am someone who knows a lot about stories and narratives, and if you think I can help by offering my perspective, I'm very happy to do so, Hyacinth. No one should have to deal with something like this on their own."

He lowers his hand. "No one should feel that they are obligated to become a murderer, mass or otherwise, or that they won't even have a choice, either. I'm not going to pretend that I can just pull a fairytale magic solution out of the seat of my pants. But any input I can offer is certainly yours. And any not too heavy lifting, too."

Breathing's good. Having not runny mascara? Better. The woman that has no feelings (period) certainly has some about this, though not in a flailing capacity, but she does and the details matter. Hearing words of solidarity oddly do have an impact. For Hya this is weird. There is a faint smile and a nod that follows to Ravn with a deep breath. "Margaret, my... Great Aunt who has been the puppet master of this mess, said well we have to find a different solution. I need to find... a different solution and it's going to take all of us to sort out what that might be. I'm fabulous, I'm not omnisciently fucking talented." The blunt humor at her own expense bringing some levity to her mood, "Thank you. The help is... and will be appreciated. Even if we have to find a way to close the damn thing and learn to live on our own merit."

"Living on your own merit might be preferable to what the Veil has in store for you," Ravn murmurs. Then, rather uncharacteristically, he leans forward to brush gloved fingertips over Hyacinth's hand in a gesture that is as light as it is brief. "I won't run away screaming if you show a crack in your perfect facade, Hyacinth. Your story is horrifying. You have every damn right to be horrified. You don't deserve this simply for being born an Addington any more than the Baxters deserve it for being born Baxters. The people who struck this bargain are dead and gone. We may never know exactly what they did. But there is no curse that cannot be lifted. Stories don't work that way -- and Gray Harbor runs on stories, very much so."