2021-03-31 - Mermaids! And Other Strange Tales

What is this place? Certainly not all that the newspaper article cracked it up to be -- at least not yet. For all of the good intentions that the HOPE centre represents, what it currently is -- is a dilapidated old shop that volunteers are still working on getting back on track. There are obvious indications of such work being in progress; from tool boxes sitting around to plastic bags full of whatever garbage has been needing to go for ten years at least. The wallpaper has been more or less stripped from the walls of the front room; bits of it lie on the folding table, almost as if somebody intends to keep a sample of each time period represented (the 1960s were an interesting time in style history, that's for sure). A stack of old Hustler magazines lie in a corner, bundled up as if somebody wants to do something with them; toss them out or sell them to some collector, maybe.

Amidst all this chaos are a few people coming and going. Some of them look like -- well, like they usually live under the boardwalk. Some look like they're somewhat more fortunate; one of these is a tall copper blond wearing black, currently occupied reading through what looks like a stack of old bills. Old as in, the paper has literally turned yellow.

When Fern read the article about the HOPE project, she knew she wanted to volunteer for it. If something like this had been in town when she first got back? Maybe she wouldn't have wasted two years of her life drowning in liquor and self pity. She's been here a time or two, mostly helping with the wallpaper stripping and loading garbarge on the a truck to be taken away and the like. Today, she's wearing a pair of neon green leggings that look like they've seen better days as well as a slightly oversized black t-shirt that exposes one shoulder. All she's missing is the sweatbands and legwarmers and she could be straight out of an 80s aerobics video.

She's in the process of tying her hair back into a ponytail as she approaches the table Ravn is sitting at, peering over his shoulder curiously. "So what sort of expenses did they have way back in the day?" There's a friendly smile on her face that can be heard in her tone even if it can't be seen yet.

The Dane grins slightly. "I'm trying to establish whether it's safe to toss all of this. It looks like -- well, meat deliveries, electricity bills, taxes, the sort of stuff you'd expect. But the guy who owned the place did just disappear one day and this is Gray Harbor, you know? Have to be sure there's not a vital clue hidden somewhere, revealing that actually, we have a secret hell mouth in the basement."

He's a pretty laid back guy, and by now, seems to have become the designated guy who knows what everyone else is doing. Not by appointment -- the HOPE centre doesn't really have anyone in an established 'person in charge' position. The closest thing it does have is Ignacio de Santos who has been appointed official press contact. It's just that Ravn is the guy who's always there.

"Fern, right? I am not very good with names," he admits. "You are -- either new in town or you've been hiding outside of the usual suspects haunting the Poorhouse after hours."

"Well I'm no accountant. Or even very good at research. But I can read." Fern laughed, moving to take a seat in one of the chairs beside him. "Let me help you dig through and see if we can find anything. As cool as a portal to hell in the basement would be? I don't think I feel like dealing with one." She muses, picking up some bills from his stack and placing them in front of herself. "Faces are always easier to remember than names." She agrees.

"I was born and raised here. But I'm sure you've heard the story from a good majority of us. Tried to leave, wound up coming back anyway. If'd you been here about, oh I dunno 3, 4 years ago? You'd probably have seen me passed out in a booth at TIBs or Pourhouse." Yes. It was Pourhouse damnit. "But I traded in my beer goggles for yoga mats and haven't stepped foot in a bar since." Which she's proud of. Because lord does this town make you want to drink everything in sight.

"Oh yes. Same story for about half of us, I think. And the other half of us are, I came through and for some reason I never left." Ravn certainly does not protest the idea of somebody else helping him scan old business papers, a decidedly not exciting read. "I have no idea what we're looking for but, eh, if you see something that you wouldn't expect to see if this was Seattle, then we should probably look at it."

A couple of invoices for plastic foil and bags with the shop's print on end up in the discard pile. "Not going to pretend I haven't been hitting the whiskey a bit hard some nights after becoming a resident," the Dane admits. "Some of the things you see here are -- they hit you. Hard. Sometimes you really get a pretty stark reminder that the things we're fighting against literally feed on misery. I can't really imagine what it's like, being a child in this town and seeing the things we do. Alexander Clayton told me that when he was a kid, his toys tried to eat him."

"That does seem to be the other half. I new student of mine was heading south and stopped here. Decided to stay. It's funny how this town just seems to pick people and put it's hooks in them." Not funny in the 'ha-ha' way at least. She starts skimming through her paper stack. "Ain't that the truth. My drinking here wasn't town-related at least. But I definitely had my fair share of issues as a kid and while I was away. But, looking back now...I'm pretty sure I also just did it all to myself...you know?" Though stopped herself before outright saying she had abused her powers.

"Growing up was no picnic. Of course the adults chucked it up to like insomnia and a personality disorder for me. I remember Clayton. He was a few years ahead of me in school though so we didn't ever hang out or anything." And there was that whole 'Crazy Clayton' thing. "Haven't really talked to him or anything since being back. Never had any toys try to eat me at least. " Fern thinks for a moment, as if trying to remember something from her own childhood.

"Worst thing I remember from growing up here is watching Killer Clowns from Outerspace and then, uh. The movie came to life. So that was fun."

"That sounds like it'd cure me of any fondness for clowns ever," Ravn agrees with a wince. He sorts through papers with slender hands wearing kidskin gloves -- the man always wears them, and most people seem to write it off as some kind of fetish or eccentric habit. "When I was a kid I'd see things and people other people don't see. It was never frightening -- they were just there. But I did get to have some very interesting conversations with child psychologists about it, and in time, I learned to keep my mouth shut."

He cants his head and studies Fern a moment. "I got to admit, I feel sorry for the kids growing up here, with that kind of ability. The Veil doesn't seem to go easier on kids. If we could come up with some way to reach those kids, signal to them that this is a safe place to come talk to adults about killer clowns and cannibal toys..."

"Yeah? That's kinda neat honestly. I never was able to see stuff like that. Except for while, you know, the bad stuff was going on." Fern nodded. "And you know, despite the killer clown thing? I still basically joined the circus." She laughed. "But...yeah. It makes sense honestly. Kids are more creative, easier to mold. They haven't been weighed down by life yet. So it's easier to influence them and, I guess, feed off them. If I was a fear feeding monster I'd have a better time convincing Little Tommy that there's a monster under his bed than Tommy's Dad that monsters are real at all. You know?"

Fern shook her head some and sighed but then smiled again. "That would be a good thing. If we could find a way. Maybe if any of the volunteers have or know a kid that has those issues...start with them and they'd spread the word all on their own I imagine. I wish there'd been something like HOPE when I was a kid, and when I came back here. So - it's good work that we're doing. I firmly believe that."

"I know I'd have appreciated knowing that I wasn't crazy. My parents were told I was trying to get attention. So like the great and involved parents they were, my father decided that parenting is a mummy problem, and my mother decided that parenting is a hired nursemaid problem." Ravn half-smiles, wryly. "I probably drove some of those poor women to tears. Although as I remember it, most of them just thought I made up funny stories. Some of them encouraged me to write."

He tosses another small stack of receipts, this time bills for gas and utilities. "I ran away to join a circus too. Several times. But the way you say it -- doesn't sound like a joke? I just... took off and hung around until eventually, somebody called social services."

Fern gives Ravn a sympathetic smile. "Are you a writer now then?" She asked curiously and then shook her head. "Nope, not a joke. I stumbled on to the art of Aerial Performing. Acrobatics. When I was in high school. That and the goal of doing it professionally? Kept me from going completely off my rocker. I left here when I was 23. Traveling with a performing group all over the country. Even made it to Europe a few times. But...well. Fate had other plans for me. 6 Years ago I missed a que I've never missed before. Spent a year in physical therapy and had to come back here. I won't ever be able to perform like that again." She tries to sound neutral about it, but there is a slight waver to her tone as she also tosses some bills away and starts looking at a new group.

"So now that I'm sobered up? I teach yoga and privately coach gymnastics." Which is nowhere near her passion but at least she does enjoy both and they give her something to hold on to.

The Dane chuckles and shakes his head. "I write a blog that gets a couple of hits per day, that's it. I don't have the passion for writing for its own sake that I'm told is a requirement. I do like talking about my field -- but I don't have that gift for spinning a good yarn."

He listens to Fern's story about performing with a sympathetic look. "That's -- an awesome life to have lived, and it must have been very harsh to give it up. A year in physical therapy sounds like hell on Earth, and more so when you know that there are things you could do, that you will not be doing again. I tutor a group of Afghanistan vets online -- many of them talk about similar things after having sustained battle injuries. How hard it is to bounce back when you feel like a chapter of your life is being shut right there in front of you."

"A blog huh, what kind of blog?" Fern raises a brow, seeming interested at least. "It was. The work was hard and the lifestyle was taxing but I loved it. I miss it. I was totally crushed when I found out I wouldn't be able to keep performing." She shook off the feelings that were trying to creep up and refocused. "And physical therapy is awful. I definitely don't recommend it." This is said with a touch of a laugh. A joke mostly. It was awful, but also a necessity.

"What do you tutor the vets in? Which - that's a pretty awesome thing to do too! You're all kinds of helpful, aren't you Ravn?" Fern chuckled. "It was hard to bounce back but, at some point you have to realize either you get your shit together and live your life or die miserable. And I definitely don't want to die miserable."

"I'm a folklorist. I write about obscure folk tales very few people who are not historians of some kind really care about." Ravn looks a bit amused; he's probably pretty used to people asking and then quickly going riiight, let's change the subject before this guy starts a lecture.

He shakes his head at Fern's other comment, though. "I help the guys navigate academia -- it's a government program in Denmark, putting them through university in order to help them re-integrate back into society after the things they've been exposed to. It's a job -- I mean, I get paid for it, I am a tutor for Copenhagen U. Much as I'd like to claim karma points, it's more that it's the kind of teaching I can do without having to stand in a class room. I tried proper teaching -- it was definitely not my thing. Same as this place -- I'm all in favour of charity, don't get me wrong on that. But the ulterior motive of the HOPE centre is to fight back. Taking away a main food source of the dark creatures on the other side by helping vulnerable people to get back on their feet."

The Dane smiles lightly and scans a hand written note which turns out to be a complaint about the shop's delivery man from a lady on Elm Street who thinks he looks in through her bathroom window to see if she's in the shower. "The truly helpful guy around here is de Santos. He can talk a hardened criminal into handing over their gun and taking up kindergarten teaching in a matter of minutes. I've seen him tame Veil monsters by feeling at them -- bring them down with kindness."

"Folklore huh? Pretty neat. Not something I've ever found myself particularly interested in admittedly. Aside maybe a good ghost story around a campfire now and then. Which I know isn't the same." Fern chuckled. "And still, even if it's a job you're getting paid to do. You are doing it, right? You're still helping them. And this is helping too. It will help. I would love to live long enough to see this town actually become something good. Something better. Something not shrouded by darkness and despair." Fern smiled again.

"So I'm happy to fight the good fight as long as I can."

Ravn stretches his legs and picks another sheet from the pile of old paperwork on the folding table. "Now I'm getting to the complaints pile, it seems. That delivery guy has been a handful -- here's one lady saying he shot up her garden gnomes while delivering sausages."

Then, a little more seriously, he nods. "When de Santos sold me on this idea he made a very good point: What do we have to lose? Even if this project doesn't do what it's meant to do, we'll have helped some people get back on their feet, maybe. Connected some people who needed to talk, provided help for some folks who needed. The net result can only be a win. Maybe not the win we're hoping for, maybe not as much as we'd like, but still -- a win. You can't really go wrong with essentially trying to make the world a better place. At worst you achieve very little, but very little is still more than zero."

Fern blinked a bit and laughed. "The real question is why does he have a gun in the delivery truck?" She seemed a little flabbergasted by this. "And that's a good point he made. Whatever happens there's no way this set up can make things worse." She agreed, tossing out another pile of bills. "No signs of a hell mouth yet though, which is a good thing!" Though she may or may not secretly thing it'd be cool if there was something. Not a portal to hell but like, something cool and unusual about the place.

When one is new to town there's exactly one thing to do - poke one's nose into all the things ever, and that includes this particularly not-fully-finished building. Unless someone tells her to get out she enters a little deeper and lifts a hand. "Hey... did someone say gun?" Because that's weird guys.

The two people sitting on folding chairs in the middle of what looks -- and smells -- like it was once a butcher's shop don't seem bothered by the fact that somebody else wanders in; people come and go, and if the place is ever going to become the community centre that the Gazette is trying to brand it as, then people coming and going is very much going to be a thing here.

The tall guy in black hands a hand written note to the woman across from him. "Read for yourself. Apparently the gnomes were -- threatening him? He told her that they ... engaged in lewd and lascivious behaviour? This guy was either drunk out of his skull, or he was having some kind of dream experience."

Then he half-turns on his seat and smiles at the new arrival, raising a gloved hand in a lazy wave. "No guns here, sorry. We're looking through old complaints filed against the butcher shop that used to be here -- apparently their delivery man was stark raving mad. Hello! Come to scope the place out? I'm afraid we're still a bit ... provisional. By which I mean that the place is a dump but we're working on it."

Fern accepts the note, reading it over and laughing softly. "It could certainly go either way. There's some nuts in this town even without having the dream issues." She mused. "I wonder if this guy's still in town? Maybe we could ask him ourselves!" She grins at the idea, though her attention shifts to the new arrival.

"Hello there! Come on in, have a seat if you want." She offered. "We're making sure none of these papers are of vital importance before tossing them." She explained. "No guns, except these guns." Yes- she absolutely curls her arm up and flexes her upper arm. Which is to say - it doesn't look like much of anything changes at all. She's not buff in the slightest and her expression is deadpan.

...Before cracking herself up again.

Isi didn't particularly MEAN to overhear but like, it's hard to NOT overhear those kind of things. Just about everything doesn't make sense and her cocked up eyebrow hints at her lack of comprehension. But when you're new it's good to just... not point out that people might just be insane. Good manners.

She moves closer and shares a small smile which grows into a full on laugh at the showing of the not-buff gun comment. "What are you guys turning this former-butcher-shop into?"

"The idea is to turn this place into a community centre," Ravn explains. "What we actually will be doing depends a lot on who's volunteering and what kind of donations the place gets. But the general strategy involves helping vulnerable people help themselves. Gray Harbor has a surprisingly large number of homeless and destitute people, and people whom others consider to be crazy because they see and hear things."

"I HEARD THE DAMN MERMAID! She said she only eats people who eat fish and that's why I'm vegan now!" A ragged looking guy in his forties pops his head in from the door to the backroom -- and then he's gone again before anyone can ask him what he's on about. From the sounds of it, he's scraping old wall paper off a wall back there.

Ravn glances at the door. "Er. Yes. Like that. Sorry, Denny is not very talkative unless it's about the mermaids. He's also trying to get back into community college, and he is looking for a job. That's the sort of thing we can help with -- a place to take a shower, study help, help writing a resumé. A number of local businesses have agreed to take on on-job trainees too, get them some paid work to put on their C.V.s."

Then he chuckles. "And I have no manners, sorry. Ravn Abildgaard, pleased to meet you."

Fern looks over a little startled at the Mermaid outburst and then looked back towards Ravn and Isi. "I'd go vegan too if it was all that kept me from getting eaten by a mermaid." She pushed a hand lightly through her hair and flashed a grin up towards Isi. "Fern Michaels. Pleasure to meet you." She added along on the name train.

"Yes, this town has a habit of getting a little...gloomy. We're trying to build up something that will give the down and out some light. Some hope."

Insert a slow and steady blink from Isi as Ravn's description of what they are building gets interrupted by yelling about... mermaids? Well. Ah, okay. She's not sure what to say to that, so it's nice the pair of them give her something else to latch onto. "Ahh," her eyes are still looking at where the man left, so she has to physically drag her gaze back to them. "Isi Cameron, just accepted a job at city hall. This seems like a stand-up attempt at doing something good. If you don't mind me asking, do you know where you're getting your funding from?"

"Everything is volunteer based -- including the funding. There are a few local investors who have agreed to cover the basics -- finances are handled by a law firm in Seattle." Ravn nods and reaches for the next piece of hand written scribble. "Local businesses so far have been extremely willing to participate in the project too. Gray Harbor can be -- it's a bit of a gloomy place sometimes, but we've got a good little community, people looking out for each other. I say, having only lived here for about seven months but by now I almost feel like a native."

He cants his head at the paper. "Delivery guy apparently shot up somebody's pink lawn flamingo too. So you're both new in town -- or well, returning to town in Fern's case, getting settled in. What do you do, if you don't mind me asking? Pull up a chair," he adds to Isi. "We're really quite friendly. The only thing in here that bites is the smell, and we'll fix that as soon as we find out what's causing it."

"Yeah as soon as I read about the project I knew I wanted to help out with it - for example. We know how to come together when we need to." Fern mused. "Welcome to town Isi!" She motions her agreement for Isi to join them. "That guy needs to not be allowed to have firearms." She says as an aside to Ravn, picking up a small stack of papers that seemed to be old order slips.

As for the smell..."Probably rats. Just hope they aren't in the walls." Her nose wrinkled. "I teach yoga now. And privately coach gymnastics primarily." She offered more towards Isi with the answer to Ravn's question - since she'd mentioned it earlier. Though looked curious to see what Isi did for City Hall.

"That's kind of them," Isi replies with genuine feeling, coming closer to join the pair of them in closer quarters. "I'm an auditor, tax policy, etc." She hand waves her own personal job as that side of boring which generally causes people's eyes to glaze over..

"So you're a native to Gray Harbor?" Asked to Fern specifically, though she glances at Ravn too if he wants to speak on it.

Ravn decides against making the joke that Isi must have heard a million times already, about how he hopes to never meet her in a professional capacity, blah blah. Instead he smiles and nods at the stack of old, yellowing papers. "We're essentially trying to see if any of these old papers contain any clues to something strange going on here in the past -- the man who owned the butcher's shop walked out one morning some ten years ago and was never seen again. No one knows if he was in a cult or had strange dreams, or got eaten by some monster out of Firefly Forest."

"MERMAID!"

"Or by a mermaid," Ravn adds, unfazed. "Stranger things happen in this town."

"Sure am, born and raised. Been back about 5 years or so now." Fern explained, relaxing back in her seat. She lifted a note up toward Ravn. "I think the butcher might've been sweet on a Miss Banks? Some these are notes that look like they were part of packing paper. Maybe he wrote them and decided against sending them." She pondered on that a moment and then sighed.

"Yeah this town is full of strange." A brow lifted lightly towards Isi. "So what brought you here then?"

That's some, ah, interesting local slang." Isi says, because that last thing about the forest must mean something something totally normal. "Well, I hope you figure it out. I'd offer to help, but it sounds like it'd need some town specific kind of knowledge." WEIRD town knowledge.

"I had a job in Seattle, but the city wasn't really my style. Going home wasn't an option, so when I saw the advert here for a job in city hall?" She shrugs and lets the 'and here I am' speak for itself into the silence. "Now just getting acquainted. Any suggestions on things to do?"

Ravn glances at Fern, and then back at Isi. Then he smiles slightly, a little awkwardly. "I actually did mean that -- literally. There are some pretty strange things in that forest. An old saw mill which is very haunted; the locals will definitely tell you to stay very far away from it. Same deal with the pond -- apparently, some local serial killer used to dump bodies in it."

He reaches for a slightly less 'I am crazy hear me gibber' topic of conversation, maybe. "Came through myself, hitch hiking towards Portland from Seattle. Got into an argument with my ride and got kicked off the truck in Main Street. I never got around to leaving -- before I knew what'd hit me I'd settled in with a temp job as a bartender and renting a small boat to live on. Gray Harbor has a way of doing that kind of thing to people like us."

He stresses that like us bit just a little. Maybe it has some kind of significance.

Fern studied Isi for a curious beat and then flashed another smile. "Yeah, this town is basically completely haunted in its own way. I wish I were joking." Maybe she and Ravn are just both crazy like Mermaid Man! "Yeah Seattle can be pretty busy. Like any big city I guess but, sometimes that's just too much." She looks like she wants to ask about the going home thing, but opts not to. "I hope you enjoy it here. It's not such a bad place if you can get over the crazy stuff."

Fern thinks a moment. "Well, there's not a whole lot. There's some good hiking trails, a few bars, a dance club. Library has a good selection and there boardwalk is fun to wander around. Check out the shops and such."

Cue Isi's jaw being slack and then she'll just edge back a step with her voice taking on a nice soothing tone. Clearly, mermaid man isn't the only one sprouting crazy talk. "That's all good to know, I'll avoid those things?" The doubt is strong here but she doesn't verbally state that doubt. Rather, "Is the hiking good? Being closer to the outdoors was a huge draw."

"When I first came to town I had a very strange experience," Ravn says placidly and fishes a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of a blazer pocket, placing both atop the stack of papers yet to be skimmed. "I went into the local coffee shop and fell into chatting with a local girl. She started telling me that this town is -- unusual in some aspects. Talked about crazy dreams and strange things that go bump in the night. Needless to say I told myself to keep a straight face and smile -- I'd obviously bumped into the local nut. She offered to show me. And well -- I was curious and she wasn't bad looking. So I told her, sure thing."

He smiles lopsidedly, a little sheepishly. "What she did was -- she made my clothes stick to my chair. I couldn't move. The only way I'd have been able to move was if I'd decided to strip on the spot, which I obviously did not consider an option. So there I was. Stuck on a chair until I admitted that she could do something like that."

The man glances at the lighter. "Don't be afraid. People here will tell you some pretty wild stories. There's more than an element of truth to a lot of them. But, people don't want to harm you. Quite the opposite, in fact -- we look out for each other here."

And just like that, the lighter floats at a leisurely pace, from the stack of papers to his palm.

"I've been once or twice on some of the trails -they're pretty nice. I think there used to be some kind of hiking club? Still might be even. I don't actively look for that sorta stuff. Unfortunately due to some old injuries - I have to be extremely careful about staying away from activities that could break me further." She gave a wry smile.

Though her gaze shifted to Ravn, eyes slightly widened as he started floating the lighter. Not in surprise, but more like Are you trying to scare her off??. She peeks back towards Isi to see her reaction.

Fern gets Isi's attention first, because she's not being weird. "Huh, I'll look for it then. I don't mind going for myself, but it's better in a new place to..." Trailing off she looks at Ravn. "............" Isi was super ready to just give more soothing words before carefully exiting herself when Ravn does... that? Uh.

"What the fuck?" That seems like a good place to start.

The Dane plucks the lighter out of the air. "Yeah. 'What the fuck' is a good way to put it. Sorry. I'm really not trying to frighten you. Or maybe I am, but -- not like that. There's one thing the locals here will all pretty much be telling you over the next couple of weeks. It's 'get out while you can'. If you're anything like me, you won't. Very few people do -- we all came here because the place somehow feels like we need to be here, or we stay because the place feels like that. But if you're staying, then there's a couple of basic survival tips you need to at least consider the possibility of, that they might be real and I'm not crazy."

He throws Isi an apologetic smile. "There's people in this town who can do things. Some of them are very good at it. Me? Not so much, tricks like that is pretty much what I can do. The other thing is -- you're going to have dreams. Very lively, feels-like-real dreams. Some of them are going to be -- pretty scary."

"SOME OF THEM ARE ABOUT MERMAIDS!"

"And some of them are about mermaids," Ravn agrees. "In fact, I had one in which --" he glances towards the door to the back room and then adds, in a tone very much lower lest poor Denny hear. "In which I was the mermaid."

"Yes. I can see you have a...little bit of a shine to you." Fern explained to Isi. "And if you concentrate - you can likely see it on myself and Ravn as well. You possess a little bit of power for yourself. What sort, I couldn't tell you. So it's extremely likely you'll end up in one of these crazy dream-like scenarios sooner rather than later. " Fern explains. "You could get lucky and not experience them for a while but it all just depends. " There's a little nod towards Ravn. "I have similar abilities to him - though probably on a larger scale. I've had them since I was a child." Though she doesn't seem inclined to show and tell.

Isi's gaze swivels back and forth between Ravn and Fern. They're both talking the same words and it's pretty clear that Isi's not sure what to make of everything that they're saying. She'll take a few more steps backwards. "If this is an elaborate joke...."

She's not quite sure how to end that though.

The man with the weird accent tucks the lighter and cigarette packet back into the blazer pocket they came from and shakes his head. "No joke. But you don't have to pretend that you believe us, either. You just need to know so that when things eventually do happen, you're not blindsided. I can't speak for Fern, obviously -- but if you want to think for now that I'm full of shit, I'm not going to hold it against you. Heaven knows I thought the girl who showed me was full of it. I just also couldn't figure out how the heck she did it."

Fern nodded her agreement again. "Not a joke, but I know it sounds crazy. It's not something easy to understand or wrap your head around until you're forced to face it head on." She offers another smile. "And whenever that happens? Just know you have at least two people here who are willing to listen to you. And will understand what you're going through."

Crazy people aren't suppose to admit they are probably crazy, which is what is throwing Isi right now. Crazy people are suppose to think they're normal. "Ah.... alright?" She shakes her head and then reaches up to brush stray hairs back out of her face. "I'll think about it. It's... probably time I, you know, get back to exploring. Avoid the mill and the pond." That is safe enough to cop to, right?

"IT's, ah, crap what are your names again?" The crazy has driven them right out of her head.

"Ravn Abildgaard." The copper blond doesn't look all that surprised at Isi's reaction. It's almost like acting really weird at somebody, subtle warnings and ominous undertones and whatnot, might cause them to be a little wary of you? Nevermind the fact that he's 6'2 of unfamiliar male wearing all black -- all the way to the gloves he's wearing indoors. Maybe this is not the first time he's had a reaction like that.

"I'm here most days," he adds. "But if something happens that you need to see somebody about right now, I have a boat on the marina as well -- the Vagabond. Also, the dive bar across the street? A lot of people like us tend to hang out there after hours."

"Fern Michaels." Fern offers towards Isi with a nod and smile. Totally not judging her for being freaked out or thinking they're crazy. "Enjoy your self-guided tour! I'm mostly in the park or at Dance Evolution. But I'll be here more often in the near future as well. It was nice to meet you, Isi."

"Ravn. Fern. Right." Isi's going to memorize it, but the jury is still out if she's going to take Ravn up on the offer of coming to hang out. She shakes her head and then with an upraised hand is going to ~out~. The simplest of choices.