2021-06-13 - Aspen and Salt

The fact that the area is sort of close to the Broadleaf is at least convenient for Conner. There's a battered bag over his shoulder, something quickly grabbed when he felt that compulsion. He's learning. Pretty fast, too.

The last thing he wants is for that elk-fish to get free, but he admits to not being sure how to stop it, or how to strengthen its prison. He exhales a little, the wind ruffling his hair as he peers up at the overcast evening sky. Then at the ring of aspen itself, and...the group surrounding it. His brows furrow, and he hefts a sigh of deep disapproval.

Oh good. People acting like creepy cultists in front of the ring of aspen. Well. That's always a grand sign. Probably keeping it in will mean doing something about that.

Bennie didn't mean to wander away from the Station's storm preparation, honest she didn't. She tried to reason she was due a break, even let her partner know she was going for a walk to clear her head, but deep down it's because the Call drew her.

And then she's Here. Her least favorite place of like, ever, especially after the week she's had. Creepy dreams with the lowercase d, punctuated by seeing the same woman in the park and being compelled to get her tarot read. Questions answered only with more questions.

And then there's this! I'll take Party of Plague Pagans for the win, Alex.

Joe hasn't encountered these before, has he? But Dreams he's begun to know....and this one has seized him just as he's locking the door on his apartment. He's got a dark blue poncho on over t-shirt and jeans, his house keys in his hand, and a pack under the ponch, giving him an almost hunchbacked appearance.

He gazes around him with an air of bemusement, blue eyes wide behind the browline glasses, and starts heading for Bennie as the face most familiar here. Though he's definitely got an eye out on the cultists. "This is very Night Vale," he says to Bennie, voice mild, a little uncertain.

Aidan does not enjoy compulsions, but some of them are harder to fight than indulge. Especially here. And this sort feels different than... well, than the ones he's less sure aren't actually coming from inside the housebrain. So he finds himself here now, in raincoat printed with frogs over a navy sweater that appears to probably have been made by someone's grandmother and skinny red jeans. Boots, and the chicken-shaped rubbery bag he sometimes carries. And a distressed expression.

"Uh," he says as he runs into the small knot of people he knows, gaze caught on the black-clad culty types. "I'm pretty sure that's not good? 'cause the thing inside there is freakin' massive and it wants to eat all our magic. And maybe us? But definitely the magic. I mean I guess they could be trying to make the trees hold it back better but somehow I kinda think not. We should... maybe ask what they're doing. Like, what they're aiming for and all." Yes. That makes sense, right? He squares his shoulders a bit, taking a breath, and starts walking in that general direction. What is that the one's even sprinkling? It's not salt, it is? What little he knows about culty mysticy things tells him salt might be good news. Maybe.

"I think it is our business," Conner says. "It's everyone's business. Unless you're planning on sealing that thing up even tighter than he's already sealed. That creature is bad, bad news, and that's a fact."

His tones are placid, matter-of-fact, not even confrontational. He doesn't even step forward. Since they've been noticed, there's no need not to speak up, after all. An attempt to convince or reason as his opening move is pretty much his standard operating procedure, but he doesn't look too terribly hopeful that it's going to go over great this time.

The sight of Aidan and Joseph here gives Bennie some serious calm, even enough to give the unknown Connor a cheery little wave as he makes it abundantly clear he's on the same team. Which is clearly the Visitors and the Home team defo has the advantage. Through clenched teeth to her friends and an overly plastic smile for Siobhan, she asks, "Don't suppose anyone wanna gives me a clue? Phone a friend? A fifty fifty?" Okay, so maybe game shows have been playing too frequently in the Station's break room lately. "Okay, so four of us against..a billionish?"

De la Vega turns up a little after the others; his bulky frame may or may not be recognisable as it emerges from the treeline. A black hoodie's been pulled over a pair of snug-fitting jeans shoved into battered boots, dark eyes on the goings on with the cultists and their.. salt circle? as he approaches at a slow prowl.

"Want my magic, huh? Well, they can't have it." Joe's recovering from his surprise at basically being summoned to Narnia right out of his own front hallway...though he's still stressed enough that the accent bends his speech out of shape, to the point that "can't" rhymes with "paint". He veers off from heading to Bennie to turn towards a tree off to the left. There's a youngish man bound to it, dazed and battered, but not terribly wounded - dirty blond hair, fairish complexion. Even as he goes, Joe's getting a folding knife from his pocket, flicking it open, clearly intending to cut the man's bonds.

He does, however, hear that exchange, and he looks over to note, "I'd say we've got skin in this game. Look at us. What're you tryin'a do? Preserve magic? Keep that thing from eatin' it?" Ruiz's advent is greeted with a shaky little smile. "Hey, baby," he says. "Things is fucked up, so what else is new?"

"Well, I came 'cause I suddenly felt like I had to be here," Aidan says, and there's a small movement of his hands as that ozone starts to crackle through his curls. Nothing observable happens. If anything happens at all. A tiny increase in the furrow in his brow suggests maybe not? "But, uh, whether we try to interfere maybe depends what you're trying to do. 'cause--," a glance to Bennie, explaining (for certain values of explain) "There's a giant elkfish in there with lots of eyes, like, half elk half fish. Merelk? And he wants us to let him eat our magic. He gets really upset if we say no. I kinda don't think if he's let out of the aspens he's gonna take it better. I mean. Consent is a thing, right? Do you want him taking yours so you don't have to deal with it anymore or something? 'cause most of us don't want that for us." He's a little tensed, like... well, probably like someone with a taser pointed at him might be. For some reason.

Welp. Looks like they're doing this. Conner exhales sharply. He's not going for the kill here, but he sure is going to incapacitate when he opens his fist and sends a burst of electricity straight for Salt Girl's chest. His jaw has hardened, the unassuming man in his rumpled clothing looking somehow both stern and disappointed that he has to go to such measures.

Yet go to them he does.

No more words...the talking train seems to have more or less left the station.

Javier remembers her; the girl from open mic night. What the fuck she's doing here, embroiled in all of this.. he doesn't have time to think about it, because things are happening too fast. She's talking some mumbo jumbo about showing the way and giving the light. And then he can feel her gathering her power, and he knows what she's going to do with it, the direction her eyes go. And his heart hammers in his chest as he tugs his pistol out of its holster.

He doesn't think, doesn't ask questions. He disengages the safety, drops the hammer, and squeezes the trigger once he's got a clear shot on her. The bullet slices through her throat, hopefully before she has a chance to finish what she was doing.

"Warning aside, these eyes are totally starting to creep me out." It's the only warning Bennie gives her friends before she ducks her head slightly, eyeing the copse with concentration tightening the skin around her eyes. Her hands expand at her side, fingers splayed as a warmth spreads from her directly to the underbrush encouraging their growth into a brambled thicket to provide a barrier between them and Bazillion Blue Eyes Elkfish...thing to better their odds. "Sorry, not sorry!" Bennie says in a sing-song voice to her Spirit foe.

Joe's definitely keeping an ear out for Aidan's discussion, though he's very much focussed on freeing the prisoner. "I'm Joe," he informs the bound man, with a hint of his usual arrogance. He's got the longest blade on the knife out, and is sawing briskly at the cords that bind him, expression intent. "'mind me to tell you 'bout the time I had to break into a station with a pocket knife," he tells the prisoner.

He's got them almost cut through when Siobhan's shouting at him, and the cords part just in time for him to turn and face her defiantly. "It wasn't his to give!" he retorts, squaring up on her. "Ain't the world good enough as it is? Don't you understand what you're trying to do?" The newly freed man gets a muttered aside, "Buddy, you better not be on the side of the Devil, or I just fucked us all pretty hard."

"'kay, look, he said he wanted it for himself, straight up," Aidan notes to Siobhan, "wanted all the power to revel in, and mostly that's kinda a villain speech, you know?" He winces as she the lightning flares up, and it doesn't really help that it doesn't promptly zap right into him.

He can see how some of the aspens are dimming, and there's a flicker of a glance at Bennie as she encourages that thicket, and a nod. He focuses directly on the trees, himself, reaching out as if to stroke one despite not being able to actually reach them just now. Where they were dimming, they begin to brighten somewhat, perking up, as he sends healing and encouragement to them, specifically. Healthier themselves, bolstered by the thicket -- that should at least buy them some time, right?

Conner sees the illusion of the ants for what it is, and looks unimpressed. With Salt Girl having stopped what he's doing from his little zap, he targets another. How about a cultist rambling about being shown the light? He likes that one. "I can show you some of that too," he says mildly.

And then he does, whipping it at the young man hard enough to set him to writhing on the ground.

"See? Light."

"Ants? Seriously?" Bennie stomps her foot impetuously, shaking off the illusion completely. "Because we weren't all mentally scarred by the Ants Go Marching song when we were kids, geez." There is a blink, "Kids. They're just kids!" And kids don't deserve to die for dumb mistakes, because whoa, none of them should be standing. Her attention is off the Aspens for a brief moment, if only to slow Siobhan's bleeding so she doesn't just outright keel over.

Ruiz looks for half an instant like he might take another shot and finish the job. But that wouldn't look so good in the police report, would it? A few too many witnesses to that little indiscretion. He moves forward instead, once he's sure Joe's out of danger, and looks for something to apply pressure to the wound with while he digs his cellphone out of his pocket. Not that Bennie doesn't also have a direct line to the station, but. "Yeah," he's murmuring into it, "going to need a unit out here. GSW, yeah. I'll direct them in."

"Right, Arno," Joe says, and manages to not flinch too badly when Siobhan's stroke goes wild. ".....nice work," he adds, as what's clearly Arno's use of the power deflects the shrapnel away from them.

The illusion of the ants snags at his mind, and he gives a little cry of revulsion, skittering sideways a few steps. But then it breaks, and he's turning on the one who seems to be trying to cast that illusion. The long face is set in an expression of anger, and he raises a hand to try and return the favor, in terms of lightning.

The sound of the gunshot has Aidan's shoulder's tensing, and he winces faintly at the result he sees, that blood coming from Siobahn's neck. Bennie's exclamation about their ages makes him relax just slightly; surely she's got that in hand, right? And the aspens look better -- for now. He barely notices the attempted ant illusion as he takes a breath and focuses on the group of-- well, kids, kinda. They DO look a few years younger than him...

All the doubt and uncertainty he's ever felt over just what's really going on and whether he's right and if the choice he's making makes any sense and frankly even what reality IS some days is summoned up and distilled and then shared right out among the black-clad group. "We already have our own light, all of us do. Don't let him out to take it."

The sense that reality is reasserting itself, the fact that the cultists seem pretty demoralized, has Conner simply raising his hands at Other Boy. "You done?" he asks mildly. "Or do you need a little more convincing?" They certainly aren't getting their ritual done this way, so he doesn't see a real big need to keep hurting them.

But he's certainly ready to do so, if they get frisky or try something or start throwing things around again. It's just a momentary reprieve, just in case they're ready to call it a night.

Bennie runs a line of knuckles over her forehead where beads of sweat have started to form. She's going to feel the expenditure of effort later, muscles already sore from preparing sandbags and setting up road blockades to be moved when high water hits Gray Harbor. "I'm going to stay behind. Talk to the trees." And by that she means try to fortify whatever is holding an apparently horned fish at bay. She's muttering as she strolls in that direction, kicking a clump of dirt to help disperse the salt ring. "Dumb old lady...saying I have daddy issues. And relationship issues. Suck on these cups..."

Ruiz cuts a quick glance Lizzie's way, perhaps catching a whiff of her mental disposition toward him. But Aidan's already dealing with it, and the cop turns back to his phonecall as he pushes to his feet. Once the bus is enroute, he hangs up on that one, and gets on the horn with the precinct, making sure a couple of cruisers are inbound with some gruff directives to the officer on duty. The others, he keeps half an eye on as he ambles away a short distance.

The tide is turning - it looks like they're working. No one's even died, not yet. Joe's bolt strikes home, if barely, but even that effort has left him tired, uncertain.

Reality's bleeding back in, and that's most reassuring of all. He pads tentatively after Arno, more curious than vengeful or triumphant, ending up at the younger man's elbow..... though not without noting to Conner, as he passes, "Well done." Then "What're you trying to do this for?" he asks her. "What do you hope to gain? That thing will devour our magic, likely devour us - you think it won't go for you first and take back what it gave?"

Bennie's idea of dispersing the salt circle is wise, and he's already moving to help destroy it, scuffing at it with his boots, smearing it into oblivion. Wanting as much evidence of weirdness as possible to be gone by the time the cops arrive. The thing lurking within the aspens gets a raised middle finger as he moves.

"Dude," Aidan says to Arno's remark at Siobhan, looking less than thrilled with it. Still, the others backing away from the idea... good. If Siobhan could do it alone she already would've, right? ...probably. He joins in a bit of the circle-scuffing once it looks pretty clear that indeed the bleeding's covered, and eyes the aspens again, then Arno. "Did you say you're the one who trapped it in there? 'cause I kinda... wouldn't mind knowing what's going on with all that. Or how, 'cause... yeah." A sidelong look toward where those too-many-eyes have been watching them. Sometimes him. Too many eyes...

Joseph asks the other set of questions very much in his mind, and he keeps half an eye on Siobhan in case of answer, but... while they're here, he's maybe gonna see about giving those aspens another little boost. Great minds think alike. And appreciate pineapples, though that's neither here nor there.

"I regretted it the moment I put a dandelion in her hand. I didn't need more doubt heaped into my overloaded brain." Bennie grumps, sitting down on the ground as the Aspens fade and disappear, nothing left to do but look to the horizon and the coming storm. Tucking her knees up to her chin, she waits for the ambo, because if nothing else, she can hitch a ride back to town.

"Oh. Thank you," Conner says, to Joe's comment, startled and not at all displeased. He opens his mouth, looking to Arno, but then the sirens clue him in. He clears his throat. "Time for me to head home," he murmurs. He doesn't really want to run into police right now. Well. Police who aren't Ruiz, right now.

Arno is giving very wise advice. Very wise. Joe, of course, being Joe, chooses to ignore it. More specifically, Joe lifts his chin in that arrogant little tilt that Javier knows so very well, after first seeing it in it in Bahrain nearly thirty years ago. "Hole up?" he says, almost looking down his nose at the Afrikaner. "Not me, buddy. I ride the fire...and look at the company I keep. That said....you wanna tell us what we can do, if anything?"

"What was the dream?" Aidan asks, despite the I-don't-know, and he tilts his head at Siobhan's emphasis on the hunger. "Did he tell you what he eats?" he asks; it sounds like a genuine question. "'cause honestly I don't want anyone starving. I just also don't want anyone trying to eat my magic. Or other people's who don't want him to..." He pauses, catching his lower lip briefly with his teeth. Maybe not the ideal time to argue with the girl while she's working on keeping an appropriate level of blood on the inside of her body.

He shakes his head, glances at the stand of trees again. Then Arno. "How come she wants him there only 'til then? And when'd you agree to that? How did--" He has questions. Many questions, apparently. But there's those sirens approaching and some conversations he'd just rather not have near whoever's probably going to show up. Ideally. "Can we talk about some things a place that maybe isn't right here?"