2021-03-29 - Underneath the Willow Tree

In Conner's observation, encounters of this sort seem to blend beauty and horror in a rather disturbing mix. This is no different. At first he reaches his hand out to enjoy fireflies swirling about his fingers without really taking in the rest. It's only when he starts realizing there are live animals attached to poles that a look of 'ugh' and 'oof' passes over his face. And of course. There's a door, too. He rolls his neck around and waits for others to show up. There are usually others, and it's probably a good idea to wait on the door until they get there.

The one thing he knows is...they'll probably end up going through the door. His philosophy of 'no way out but through' seems to be holding during these encounters as well.

He walks up to one of the animals with that self-same expression still on his face, just to see if there's some way to...free them or something. Sure, theoretically, in some form or fashion, they're carousel animals and if he frees them the carousel will be missing some. On the other, they're animal-animals, and despite the fact that 'free the animals' was slightly lower on his list at the sawmill than 'discover what's happening here,' right now there's still time to look at doing the former, and nothing seems to be escalating or exploding out in sprays of blood (yet). Thus, there's a little time to see if he can do some good here.

Humans adapt. If anything, the speed with which some of Gray Harbor's residents have become accustomed to this strange fog is testament to how quickly at least some people just -- grow used to things. Ravn Abildgaard, for one, is by now quite resigned to the fact that almost every time he's tried to go anywhere in this fog, he's ended up somewhere else. Most of the encounters have been relatively harmless -- there was that girl who probably broke her spine, God only knows if the hamster made it out safely, and the three homeless guys at the HOPE centre swear that sirens tried to eat them. All in all -- it's just Gray Harbor doing its thing at a slightly higher ratio than usual.

Sometimes he wonders if he's just grown numb.

Maybe that's why the Dane's reaction to this sight is just to raise a gloved hand and wave at Conner with an almost resigned expression. "We need to stop meeting like this. The dolorphages are going to start talking."

He too glances at the door. There's no need to state the obvious. Might as well have laid out a welcome mat and a tourist's map. Then he pats a nice black carousel horse on its pink little nose and tries to ignore the fact that it's probably not very happy about being stuck to a tree.

"Well, there are probably worse things that...whatever you just said...can do than gossip," Conner says, with a flash of a grin for Ravn's words.

But then he jumps, startled. Oh shit, the hippo talks.

"Uh. Yeah, sure, of course. I was just trying to figure out how."

Here's hoping this doesn't kill the hippo. Or enrage him. Conner has read that hippos are pretty dangerous. Nevertheless, he grasps the pole and does his best to try and pull it up and out. When someone who talks asks for help, the proper response is to give help. Especially when the problem is a pole. Through his back. Binding him to a tree.

At least. That's Conner's reasoning.

"What little girl?" He adds.

"Dolorphages -- the pain eaters," Ravn murmurs distractedly. He'd probably have gone into more of an explanation -- ask a teacher a question at your own peril -- but there is a carousel horse scolding him and that, at least, is something that doesn't happen to the Dane every day. He looks at the horse and quickly pulls his hand away, glove and all. "Sorry. You looked -- nevermind, sorry."

He looks at the pole and at the horse, and at the other pole, and at the hippo, and then at the open door in the tree. "I think -- we're supposed to go down there. Though I suppose we should try to free these poor creatures first, yes."

It's possible Ravn would sound more enthusiastic if he didn't happen to have read recently that hippos are the number one cause of death by wildlife in Northern Africa, a region that is home to lions and Nile crocodiles.

Hyacinth looks like she's dressed for a tiny safari in Addington park. Khaki fitted jeans and a smart little coat and a blouse with the top two buttons unfastened and her hair done up making it look more of a day to hunt fox in a flowerbed than be, well, here. Her voice is dry as she corrects, "Parasites. They're simply parasites." The tak tak tak of her boots (plural today) make a fine echo on the ground. Looking at the gathered animals she warns with curiosity growing, "Don't touch them. They could be diseased... I can't imagine they carry a permit." There's a pause and Ravn gets a surveying once over. He passes and lives another day without a lecture. Conner gets a polite nod. "I was on my way across the park to find Vyv for lunch and the parks seems to have rearranged itself." She looks at the tree where the carousel should be adding, "a lot."

Lilith isn't really the sort to be out playing in this mist and fog, she's lived here as an adult a while and grew up here. She also never much messed with the carousel, even when pressured into a ride or two. However, she's got a dog. Dog wanted park. Dog got park. Dog lost ball. Therefore Dog is now in car while she combs through the ground and mist trying to see where the damn Duck Ball is at, she didn't even know the animal grabbed it from the car to bring out with him and he's having a fit.

Naturally, Byron isn't going to go letting her look alone. Then she notices... oh hell. Stopping short in jeans and a dark hoodie, Lilith suddenly has the urge to pull up her hood and hope none of the carousel animals see her. It's irrational, but when you grow up in Gray Harbor... turning some she looks for Byron close by to whisper, "... shit."

"A leech is a parasite but it's still also a leech. Dolorphage is an ideal word," comes a decidedly British voice out of the fog, followed by a man in an expensive and well-fitted camel coat over what's almost certainly an equally expensive and well-fitted navy suit, which is to say, Vyv. "You found me," he notes to Hyacinth, "though we both seem to have lost the cafe." There's a hint of irritation, though it likely isn't with her. "Hello, Ravn." That voice, too, he recognizes. He squints a touch through the fog to try to identify the sources of the others. Conner is simply unfamiliar, and gets a nod, but he's distracted from an immediate proper introduction by the pole-animals. "...I take it the merry-go-round broke down? In a rather more surreal definition than standard."

The thick fog isn't anything new to Gray Harbor. Something similar rolled in during the first year of the harvest festival. Heavy, mysterious and blinding. What's possibly within the fog, however, well... the residents, those who shine, might not consider that any oddity either. Unnerving? Sure. Even though it's unsurprising to you, that doesn't mean that you enjoy its presence. In fact, it's never a good idea to let one's guard down when you can't tell whether the figure before you is something mundane or something from the Veil. Still, life goes on. You're not just going to barricade yourself up in your penthouse apartment until this blows over. Though, he supposes that he could, if he wanted to.

Not wearing a suit today, despite being on a business call currently, Byron is dressed warmly in a thick dark green sweater and jeans with a long black peacoat thrown over it. At the moment, both he and Lilith are taking Sirius back to the car. "Right. I understand that but... Mmhmm." All the while he watches as his fiancee/wife shuts the white German Shepard into the car, only to be told that somewhere in the fog, Sirius had dropped its toy.

Great. "Wait. Hon." He murmurs after Lilith when she turns to go searching for it. "Look, I have to go. An.. emergency came up, but send me the memo through email and I'll get back to you." Click. Turning back towards the park, however, that's when he notices the whacky animals in the distant. Nothing unusual... "Great." He voices the same thing he'd thought about just earlier. Is he unphased by any of this? He's encountered worse in the thick of things...

The carousel, however, was gone. Or something. And the animals were loose.. And there were people trying to deal with it all. "So what do we need to do this time?" Yeah, he's pretty jaded.

"Then it sounds like there are definitely worse things a dolorphage can do than gossip," Conner comments.

To Hyacinth: "I'd rather have a disease than leave them to suffer like this. I'm sure someone can give me a shot or something if that's the ultimate consequence." The animals register their objections to such a label, and he adds: "Seems like they're fine in any event."

He returns Vyv's nod. He actually grins when the hippo declares him pretty okay. "Thanks," he says. Since the pole is sliding, Conner keeps pulling on it, intent on getting these animals freed. Especially now that he's heard their story.

"Dolorphage is a term for the Veil creatures that create the bad dreams in order to feed on human suffering. I've heard some call them Dark Men too, but not everyone is happy with that term since it easily can get misconstrued as being horribly racist." Ravn upnods to familiar faces even as he eyes the lobster. Maybe he's wondering if he should try to recruit it. Then he looks at the rabbit as if trying to decide whether he should even bother responding to its challenge. He's a grown man. Being yelled at. By a carousel rabbit that wants a fight except it can't even reach the ground. He decides to keep quiet; this is Gray Harbor, and the bloody thing might have a relative in Caerbannock.

Instead, the Dane shrugs and takes hold of the pole that nails the horse to the ground. "I don't suppose the girl said why it was important, or what her project is?"

"You keep thinking that, big boy. Wait until 90% of what exists on the other side tries to eat you and curse you and fuck your mom, then let's see what kind of disease you'd rather have than leaving 'poor unnatural carousel animals' to suffer." Lilith is pissed, okay, and new people being so kind to the local 'wildlife' really kind of irks her. In fact, even though Byron would rather not re-live the memory, to prove her point, she folds her arms about her midsection, glares at the weird tree carousel, then wonders, "Didn't you get earworms last time the carousel messed about in weirdness? Didn't you have to fight a doppleganger? Didn't you come home with worm bites?"

Okay, the worm bites were small, but LOOK. WORM BITES. Lilith makes a face straight at Connor, like this is his fault for being new and attractive to scary mists and not knowing any better. But after a moment, she comes closer to look at what the hell is going on with the animals and tree and overhears the bit about 'her'.

"It's probably better to find the source than try to jab poles out of every animal. I can't imagine it's real comfortable, if you're worried about suffering. So there's a door and a girl with glitter. I heard that right? Let's go find the girl." And look, Lilith may be in a mood, but after seeing Hyacinth nearby, she at least know she has a spirit animal in the moody department, hand reaching over to seize on Byron's near one, "Sorry I talked about ear worms."

Hyacinth blinks and flicks her green-hazel eyes from Ravn to Vyv in the fog appearing from quite possibly nowhere, or at least somewhere that is not the cafe. "Well," she says addressing the important message Vyv brings, "If they can't afford proper advertising we'll have to find a new one." The vocabulary can stand, she is quite content it seems to stop at parasite.

Hearing her cousin and Lilith crop up she murmurs with a flit of fingers, "Hey. We really have to find a better way to meet." That seems to be universally going around. It's the rebuttal of the lobster that gets to her as some excitement takes to her tone, "Oh! Ravn it's your people. Talk to them and see what's up. She's from the East Coast but I think she still might have good taste." That's about as complimenty as Hyacinth gets.

Though his narrowed eyes are taking in the view of these animals, Byron does an immediate sweep of the foggy area. It's as if he's waiting for something threatening to make its appearance, being the mostly cautious sort. Lifting a hand to run fingers through his thick dark hair, he looks suspiciously at the animals, though he's mainly looking at the space the carousel once occupied, already having had an encounter on the ride at some point in the past.

Hearing the term dolorphage thrown around, something which Thorne, himself, had used, his eyes slowly drift over to regard Ravn with a glance. The guy from Addington House that one day. Looking down at his watch, he murmurs to Lilith, as he's still deciding whether they were sucked into a Dream or... if there's some bleed into their world, "Let's go and look for his toy," Sirius', "And maybe we can sneak out of here before..." He just gestures to the animals.

But then Lilith has words to say to whoever Conner is and this draws Byron's attention. "From what I've heard, the earworm dopplegangers were only a small part of what makes this whole place, the whole carousel situation messed up." Oh, he's heard stories! When he notices Hyacinth and Vyv, he nods slowly in their directoin. "So do you think this is one of those encounters where you can leave the premises because it's kinda in our reality OR we're trapped here until we resolve something?" From what he can see, there's obviously something the animals want to resolve.

"Mn, but 'the carousel broke down' is merely a fact and not a reference," Vyv replies to the owl, as if it weren't actually entirely bizarre to be chatting with a ridable owl on a stick in a fog that swallows restaurants and directs one to the park instead. Either he's very self-possessed or he's been here too long. Or both. "And 'the Addington Park Carousel broke down' doesn't scan even if one tries to force it." QED.

Lilith and Byron get one of those little head-inclinations of greeting, though it's Hyacinth he addresses: "I don't know, darling, it would probably save it getting overcrowded. Avoid the need for reservations and the risk of children screaming at the next table." There's a sigh, though, and an appraising look to the animals and the tree and that door. "A child with glitter. Possibly magic glitter. Oh, joy. Odds of magic glitter showing up everywhere for months?" Byron's question's a good one, particularly considering that, and he glances out into the fog for a moment, then back to the tree, and shakes his head. "Somehow, I suspect it's more likely the resolution sort. But you could always try walking off and see whether the fog walks you in a circle and returns you here." Ravn's questions are good ones, meanwhile, and he looks to see whether the animals are inclined to answer them.

"Oof." Conner hits the ground, but as he seems to be unhurt he takes the friendly nudge for what it is. He stands up, brushes himself off, and walks over to start helping Ravn, as he now knows how intense those poles really are. Two can probably get them up faster and easier than one. "Oh. Good. Dolls," he comments, because dolls are universally creepy. Others are asking some pretty good questions, and he may have some thoughts, but for now he remains focused on this strangest of rescue tasks. "Well, when we've got you all free I'll go down and look." He won't speak for anyone else, or volunteer for anyone else. That's their own to decide or to offer or not. Which is why it's 'I'll' and not 'we'll.'

Ravn glances in Lilith's direction at her sudden shrill rant and then just shrugs. His gaze goes to Hyacinth instead, and then back to the lobster. Of all the crazy ideas -- talking to a carousel lobster barely registers as absurd in this place. "I take it the dolls are bad news," he half-observes, half inquires of the crustacean.

"Yesterday I was talking to a fish-elk which then proceeded to try to make a pancake out of de la Vega while the Exorcist bitched us out for misplacing the Baxter ghosts. Sirens tried to eat three guys at the HOPE centre. Gyre came over to install locks and disappeared into the fog, leaving his van behind. And that's just this week." The Dane looks at the pole he is still trying to pull out of the back of the carousel horse, to little avail -- Ravn is many things, and among those things are counted asthmatic and not at all athletic.

He nods with more than a little resignation towards the situation as a whole. "Let's free these animals and get on with it. Conner's not wrong -- got to push through to the other side of the story. Dolls or no dolls."

Lilith gestures at Ravn's story like this whole town is bullshit in 'see!' fashion, but eventually sighs as the carousel creatures either shrink, sigh, or talk about. In fact, this seems to work to a degree on the woman-- she is totally okay with the carousel animals getting sassy with her. In fact, it makes her want to help far more than poor pitiful pole-skewered talking animals in general seems to. After looking at Byron, then Vyv and Hyacinth, then Connor and Ravn and... well, Byron again, Lilith zeroes in on the ONE SINGLE animal she would ride as a girl.

Pink horse, of course. Stepping near, she puts her hand out onto the pole and tries to rot it out instead of splintering it so the animal can get itself free, wondering as she does so, "Who's going into the door first?"

To Vyv's suspicion, Byron nods slowly. "Figures as much." Is the man about to wander off to see whether he can escape whatever is happening here and get back to the dog in the car and possibly drive home? It's quite tempting, but not if it's a fruitless effort. Wetting his lips, he takes one last look towards the direction of his Rolls, before Lilith has decided that she wants to help a pink horse for reasons. While Lilith might warm up to these animals due to their sass, Thorne's eyes narrow at some of these mouthy creatures. Perhaps, he's less amused, especially if they are the ones wanting help right now.

"Of course, I've heard all about the dolls beneath the carousel." And he has! For the most part. Second hand news, of course. While he's not overly enthusiastic about it, Byron will step up and try to help the hippo with the leopard's pole, grabbing ahold of it to tug. "And I don't know about all kids, but I've known a lot of kids who used to tell everyone everything. Not all of them can keep a secret."

"No, my reference is amusing at best, and therefore tangential at worst," Vyv counters to the owl, glancing sidelong toward Byron and Lilith and adding, "Or I suppose potentially ear-worming at worst, though thankfully I've not seen that be literal." Yet.

It's an open question whether he'd just continue debating with the owl for a while, except that Ravn goes into recounting his yesterday and the chef stops short, looking over to the Dane for a fraction of a second too long before inquiring, "They really are gone, then? The ones at the sawmill?" Not the matter at hand, but at least briefly winning out over what is. "...you'll need to tell me about that later. And as I, and I take it at least Ravn, have not heard of the dolls beneath the carousel," he looks to Byron, arching a brow, "you could perhaps share this all-about with the rest of the class?" Other Gray Harborites are at least somewhat more likely to get around to giving a precis than Veil denizens, in his experience.

He does not volunteer to dive through the door, though he does eye up the animals and bring his hands together as though wrapping them around a pole, then pull upward. Several wiggle slightly, though that might just be from the creatures moving; the pole belonging to a large and showy peacock near the owl, however, manages to extract itself from the ground completely, if just barely.

Hyacinth states with a wave of her hand, "Go right on ahead but it's not my habit to go grabbing anyone's pole. Have at." She's not going to impede others doing things to the property. She looks to Lilith and takes a deep breath and mutters not happy about th whole'children' aspect and says simply, "I'm with City council. Technically it's my problem. Ish." She makes for the opening to where the child is indicated and her eyes get large. "Oh, we're talking about that damned sawmill after this." That's another issue. She pauses and boldly marches inside with all the authority that being an Addington and bossing City Council about has to offer. Something something justice and stop being a child ye sticky 10 year old, and all of that.

Conner wipes his face with his hand and makes a face of his own. Ugh indeed, but he doesn't complain. "Right. See you guys later," he says to the carousel animals. He walks through the door, and starts making his way down and down. He hops to as quick as he can without risking falling or tripping on these stairs. Arguments can escalate fast, and hearing one concerns him. He seems game to go first again, it seems.

Well, that answered Lilith's question without further ado. Hyacinth descends into the darkness and Ravn cannot help but murmur an aside to Vyv: "God help the first sucker suggesting to that woman that she might need some white knight's arm to cling to for support."

Then he too follows suit, falling into stride behind Conner with one last glance at the lobster. "Into the fray, tally ho, and all that jazz."

Lilith probably should have known Hyacinth would be the one to roll inside to handle some local business first, but when she glances over to see the other woman strolling straight in, part of her mouth slants up with mild amusement despite herself. Then she's lapped with a sloppy and thankful pink horse kissie which... okay, the brunette came in cranky, you'd think a nasty horse kiss would make her 'ugh' on principle, but... she beams.

Lilith beams just like a darling little girl and whispers after the departing horse a very top secret kind of secret from the little girl so wary of the Carousel once upon a time (and now), "... you were my favorite... your secret name was Strawberry Fields Forever." Anyone that heard that should maybe pretend they didn't hear that, though. Except Byron. He might have known that. Maybe.

She starts to hurry after Hyacinth on principle, but pauses to look and wait obediently for Byron, thankfully, instead of darting off like a shot ready to kick some ass.

It's not everyday that you get to work alongside a hippo , even weird carousel hippos. Byron's grip on the metal pole tightens as he helps ease it from out of the leopard, being aided by the hippo's strength. To the show off appreciation, there's a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips, even when the larger of the two animals nudges against his leg. "It's a pretty gruesome and disturbing matter. Something which I've only heard about second hand." Though when Hyacinth brings up the sawmill, this brings two slow nods from the businessman, perhaps there's a possible connection there.

Still, now that Hyacinth begins her descent, Byron quickly follows suit. If he'd heard the whisper to the now departing pink horse or not, it doesn't register on his face. He's in that vigilant and attentive mode now. Not so wary that he would dare reach out mentally to scan the consciousness of anything down these stairs, he's always been cautious about tapping into Veil things minds. At least for mental probing.

He then has to ask, "Stop her from doing what? Something foolish?" That's what he assumed.

"There are worse habits," Vyv murmurs, looking slightly irritated that the poles currently in question are largely being recalcitrant, though the peacock's joyful YAAWK gets a very faint smile and a less-faint head-inclination of acknowledgement. He gives that hand motion a second try, possibly helpful to any other animals still firmly lodged but definitely effective in helping the team working on freeing the owl, at the very least.

The look he shoots Hyacinth's back as she stalks toward the tree is about one part why-do-my-people-always-charge-ahead and one fond amusement (okay, and a tiny part oh-god-children), shading slightly more toward the second at Ravn's murmur. "Absolutely," he agrees, and, with a sigh, starts toward that door as well. Not, it must be noted, in any considerable hurry. Just a comfortable stride.

It leaves him in a perfectly good position to give Byron a sidelong look and arched brow. "Oh, gruesome and disturbing? Very unlike anything else in this town then, thank you, extremely helpful information to work with as we walk into this. Certainly more useful than even third-hand details could possibly be," he says dryly, with a small shake of his head, though it doesn't stop him heading doorward. "And whatever she has planned she's apparently a small child with magic glitter so yes, probably something foolish." They may or may not have the same 'she' in mind.

Hyacinth's game face is in place until Vyv's comment getting the murmur, "That's different.". She is irritated and poised and she is hungry and trying very very hard not to be carnivorous and bitchy. Right! Professional. Talk to a child like a silent that thinks they can just put a pool on the roof and try not to swear...or something. In she goes and at the support from the lobster she says, decisively, "You know, I was wrong about you. If you need a job in endorsements and promotions let me know." Yes, to the lobster. Given 2 of the people in her office she's not above promoting shellfish. Looking to Ravn and then Byron she says with a sigh, "Come on and let's get this done with. I'm not about to let it be toddler 1 Team Addington 0.

Well, nobody seems to be dying yet. That's a plus. So for the moment Conner appreciates the ambiance for what it is. He at least seems pretty placid and calm as he makes his way down the stairs. He starts heading quickly down the hall so that he can get closer to the man and the child...no sense calling out until they're close enough to be seen, and to see exactly what's happening and what they're arguing about.

"Remind me to marry a kindergarten teacher so I always have one on hand," Ravn murmurs to no one in particular. He's not a children kind of person either, and right now? Right now it sounds like that's the kind of person that ought to have been here. He follows on Conner's heels because as Strindberg and later on, Ronnie James Dio, wrote, the only way is down.

Hopefully this stair doesn't lead to Hell. But then, it's Gray Harbor and there are children with glitter. It's probably Hell.

"We need to find out what it is that needs fixing," he says softly as they descend. "But 'just pass on' sounds like the adult down there is addressing a ghost. Do we have any child ghost celebrities that I haven't heard of yet?"

Normally, Lilith might be the sort to come right in with a wave of hands and ask what all the fuss is about, hearing someone arguing. Especially after the door thunks shut on them to seal them inside, but then, the look she shoots backwards says she's probably not actually surprised to know it just happened. That's what happens when you set things free! Or a wind blows or... whatever. Ravn's inquiry makes her lapse into thought for a moment, then Lilith looks at Byron as if trying to remember an actual child ghost of any note when it comes to the rides around town.

There have been accidents and disappearances, but...

Pushing her tongue against her teeth, she stops to listen to what this child is proposing as a 'fix' unless someone gets there to flat out ask what the problem is first.

... like Hyacinth. Maybe. Either way, Lilith is actually content to hang back and listen for once.

Byron flashes a smile over at Vyv, whether his warning was helpful or not. Still, once inside the door and down the steps, he makes a careful scan of the space, almost as if he were looking for something in particular. This mention of an old woman, however, brings one image to mind, though he keeps his gaze settled ahead of them as they continue their descent, reaching the bottom.

The voices, though, are something that he tunes into. The child was definitely sounded like trouble, if you asked him. Well, not trouble trouble, but who knows. Maybe in this situation, the child might know better. He also caught the mention of passing on and as others try to come up with some famous town spirit only spoken of in ghost stories or Gray Harbor legends, he murmurs, brow furrowed as he continues to ponder on this. "I think... as ghost stories go, I recall something about a girl named Muriel. That has to do with the carousel, but that's what we were scaring other kids with in school." He looks to Lilith now, since they grew up together.

The only way out is through. If this town has a motto (aside from Everything is Fine), that's it, all right. Vyv glances back at the slamming door, but really, just the fact that it's still there puts this fairly high on his increasingly extensive list of Veil-door-slammings.

He blinks at what they overhear, glancing to Ravn. "'Close the doors, all of them'," he echoes to the Dane in equally soft tones; somehow it doesn't sound like he's imagining the one they just came through was included, per se. "They may both be ghosts. Baxter ones. Likely reformed from the sawmill, if they really are gone there. The man wants to shut the access to the Veil and the Arts off as predicted. The girl thinks she has a better plan. But what precisely she means to fix, let alone how..." He doesn't know either. But the overall theory feels sound. "Still, we might well be on her side of this argument. Immaturity and glitter notwithstanding." Another glance to Byron, and a slight tilt of the head. "Did Muriel happen to be a Baxter?"

This isn't how you fix things! Just pass on and close the doors, all of them! That'll set everyone free.

Only one thing comes to mind and presses her fingers together at the bridge of her nose and tries to find strength without coffee. Miracle of miracles. Turning to the rest of the humans present she says "This sounds like more Baxter bullshit. You remember how She was talking before?" Margaret Addington. There's a tightening in her jaw and she says to Connor, "They die they fuck up the force that makes things what they are apparently. No one knows why or how but they figure it out and just change things " There's a sigh and she looks to Lilith . She's there. Good good. Looking back to Ravn she notes, "IF this is your little hobo lady you're on point for negotiating."

There's a pause and she murmurs to Conner and Ravn, "Brace yourselves boys, that's the best advice I can give you and becareful of things falling." She's so tired of being near smushed. Heading down the hall he pauses, "Who is Muriel?" This look to Vyv then to team Thorne.

"No." Byron says, still deep in thought. "Or I honestly have no idea. Baxters... are a ghost story of their own. With how the Addingtons handled anything Baxter related. That said," He shakes his head, "Not that I can recall."

"Ahhhh, great. What's the problem exactly? What are we fixing? And what are the two theories on how it can be fixed? Exactly?" Conner doesn't step back as the dolls start moving. He tenses briefly, and then makes himself calm down. The one thing he's heard is that fear doesn't help and can definitely hurt, so what he works on first and foremost is remaining curious, not fearful. Even in the face of stuff that is undeniably freaky.

He slides his hands in his pockets, his 'tell' that he did have to take that moment, and rocks back on his heels, adding, "We're happy to help, of course."

"My little hobo lady, as you call her, considers me 'a feckless little shit'. Just in case you wondered how our relationship is," Ravn murmurs dryly. "Baba Yaga and I aren't exactly on the friendliest of terms. Mostly because I keep calling her scam before she can harvest too many body parts around town from unsuspecting clients."

He watches the priest and the child. He knows enough about Gray Harbor's history to have at least an inkling of an idea as to who they are, or rather, why they are. From the expression on his face he's not very surprised at who gets called forward by the ghostly child. He murmurs to Vyv -- and by extension, Conner right next to him: "We really need to start putting our pieces of this puzzle together soon. I learned quite a few things yesterday, too."

Lilith stares at Byron like she's trying real hard to remember now that he's went and mentioned the name. The name of... the name of... something is nagging her about it. She looks at the space they've come into with some distinct flicker of unease, the doll parts, the dessicated nature of the old priest, the spectre of the girl (which she probably handles best) and... she resists the urge to lunge straight at the girl for grabbing at Byron. He's in front of her and she trusts he can do his own kid dodging, it's just a kid, it's just a ghost, it's just a kid, it's just a ghost...

Suddenly Lilith's eyes fly open wider, "Muriel Mishmash!" What the fuck kind of name is that? Lilith shakes her head suddenly and corrects while eyeballing the little girl, then the priest himself with thoughtful suspicion, "Muriel was 'sposed to be like... okay, imagine an illegal Rosemary's Demon Baby from a Baxter and Addington! And they never married or had babies together. I didn't think they really did."

Should Byron have attempted to pull away from the ghost girl? The child was the least frightening thing in a room surrounded by horrible blank faced doll parts and a decomposed priest. Was this the place that he'd heard about then? Whatever it is that was being passed along. With his hand being taken, his too dark eyes peer down at the little girl, first suspicious, and then curious. "Fix what?"

His gaze then drifts over towards the labeled buckets. He can only guess what that's all about. "...Right, Murial Mishmash." Now he remembers, before he clears his throat, "I mean, that was a dumb last name kids made up for her." He says this in case being called Muriel Mishmash might upset the child. He can't blame Lilith for announcing, in front of the spirit, the kinds of mean things kids said about her! He does quietly wince though, his gaze falling on the child again.

Doll and automata parts. Well-- all right, there is some use to being primed with 'dolls' and 'disturbing' beforehand, perhaps. At least it isn't a surprise, though the sheer amount of them is. Vyv would probably be looking at them more directly (and probably suspiciously) if the room weren't also occupied by what definitely appears to be a ghost and what probably isn't, exactly, but still appears to qualify as 'dead'. If not dead, then certainly older than anyone ever wants to get. This is why we moisturize. He can't tell family line by looking, but okay, not all hypotheses survive testing. The surname offered gets another arched brow, though the explanation of it makes a certain amount of sense. "Some people just hyphenate."

Brows go up at the greeting, as well. "I take it we were expected?" he addresses the pair, "I'm afraid you have the advantage of us, then." He watches fairly closely when the ghost tries to grab Hyacinth's hand; up to her whether she goes with that, but one never knows when things might get unpleasant in these things. At least a ghost-child probably isn't sticky.

Glittery, but probably not sticky.

"Yes, what precisely are you trying to fix?" he seconds, "And what's your plan to manage it?" It's an answer he's very interested in, but it's hard not to be somewhat distracted by autonomous shoes hopping into things, who- or whatever they're looking for. So he is.

Hyacinth is not being grabbed at with a swat swat swat of her hands.... okay find she's getting grabbed and listening to Ravn promising, "Well then you have my word to work on the deficit of esteem for you there. Muriel, where are we going?" And there's the skeletal priest. Oh goodie. She says out loud for the benefit of others, "Your... uncle or cousin or whatever is here too. Charmed."

It's a slow reasoning and there is a lot... of a lot here. She murmurs, "So many tiny heads...." Her eyes widen a bit but there's the steel again with all the finesse of a bowling ball through a church window. "We're here. Before we just go throwing things open and slamming things shut what the nine hells is happening and... yes, Vyv. Thank you." There's a pause and she squints to one of the dolls and squints at it, "And stop staring at my finely manufactured ass, thank you." Looking back to the priest and child she waits for the 'sell'.

"Kids can be jerks," Conner murmurs. An adult with his own history of childhood bullying, he's more than sympathetic to that particular problem. He frowns, thoughtfully. The girl could guide the Baxter souls on, or they can be put together, only they can't because the other family's doll-parts aren't here? He rocks back on his heels again, thoughtful, hands in his pockets, and looks around at the others. This is one area where he feels like he just doesn't know enough to weigh in, and so is adopting a stance of Trying to Be Generally Helpful At this Time and As Needed (TM).

The expression on Ravn's face conveys a very silent oh hell. He takes a step forward, to say quietly to Hyacinth, "I strongly recommend not doing anything hasty. If this story follows an archetypical script then you will need to put those bits and pieces together -- and make them like the girl. Which means you're going to have to chop up at least one Addington. Please don't take that option."

He looks at the girl next. "Muriel? Is your name Muriel? Hi. I am Ravn. The old woman wants something from you. She wants something to happen here in Gray Harbor. Something big -- but we don't know if it's something good. Do you think it'd be all right to wait a little and find out what we want to do? The Baxter dolls won't go anywhere if we wait a few days."

You know. Lilith just doesn't have a lot to say after she's name-corrected by a little girl ghost, especially since that girl has Byron's hand in her own for the time being to guide with Hyacinth, "... okay, fair. They called me lots of things too, I guess I wouldn't want them to stick for eternity either." She doesn't follow too closely to where the pair are being guided, she just listens and kind of side-eyes the room, the priest, and the girl in turns to make sure she's not going to pull anything sketchy-ghost-level ritual with ghost-hand on her man.

Helpfully, though, Lilith does something while listening and trying to make logical or linear sense of what to do next. She sidesteps and nudges her running shoe at one of the bits falling out of the boxes to try and crawl around, then nudges something on top of it so it's trapped. Good job, Lilith.

"Broken souls?" Byron murmurs beneath his breath, looking over at the bin of Baxter parts. "Why are they broken?" A pause, "And what happens if you send them over to the other side while they are in this... this condition?" He asks all of this while still being pulled along, though when Muriel brings up her last name, this gets another lone nod from the dark-haired man. "Right. Bauer." Though, really, he also heard the story told as Mishmash more than the actual truth.

Glancing down at the bucket, there's a lift of his brow, "So... how do you go about repairing these? And why do you think that we," He means Hyacinth and himself, but it could also mean the entire group, "can help you?" Ravn's speaking up to the girl splits his attention between the two, though he can't help but look down into the bucket again.

Vyv starts to open his mouth, pauses, then asks, "What exactly will happen if you can put them back together? And will whoever helps be harmed?" A glance to Ravn, head tilting again, and he looks back to Muriel to add, "Is the problem that no Baxters are here to help with the repairs, or that there aren't Addington doll parts here also?" He's taken it as the former, but with the folklorist weighing in... worth checking, surely. "And if you don't mind me asking, which old woman?" He can think of at least two possibilities, and even the decidedly more likely and-- probably better? of the two is indeed not entirely ideal. Again, still best to be sure. "If it can wait a bit, and what's needed is a Baxter's assistance... we may be able to find one who'd agree. But we'll need to understand precisely what's being attempted, what's required, and what the expected results would be."

Hyacinth is REALLY not okay with bits and things wiggling and crawling about! Grodie. Her jaw sets and she looks to Byron, "The sawmill? Margaret Addington made her brother dig up all those dead Baxter people." She pauses doesn't look at the parts but she does wave her hand announcing, "Super rude, I agree. On behalf of the current generation of Addingtons we'd like to assist in the reasonable mitigation of damages incurred to the city..." There's a pause and she add, "And please don't haunt us. That aside we are amenable to ... seeing everyone just... move on and leave things well alone so what is your plan, Muriel and why not just... help them along?" See that is a super heartfelt apology and everything. Totes official on the we're not on Team Margaret front. A side glance is given to Ravn and she pauses and just says to him "Sawmill. Really?" Sorry, Conner, welcome to the deep end of the pool.