2021-07-10 - One of Us (Just a Slob Like One of Us?)

The storm rages on. Sightings of supernatural creatures and lumbering beasts keep getting reported -- mostly by people who think other people are whack jobs for thinking they see things like that, but also in whispered tones among people who do see things like that. At Teddy S. Addington High, residents of the trailer park, small houses by the Chehalis River, homeless guys from the boardwalk, and stranded tourist yachters are all trying to weather the storm and not scratch each other's eyes out. Turns out that when you put 250 people into one basketball court, tempers sometimes flare. Who'da thunk.

This chaos field of people is somewhat organised; the recently established HOPE community centre was charged with running things, at least. So HOPE isn't officially even open yet and actually consists of about five people, none of whom have any experience organising or leading anything -- somehow, things are working out, in spite of the raging hurricane outside. More or less. No one has murdered the resident militant vegan yet, all is good.

One of the guys running around like a headless chicken a lot to keep things on track is Ravn Abildgaard -- a tall copper blond European guy whose credentials seem to be wearing black always, having a funny accent, and no one's really sure what he does for a living. Something online, teaching, whatever. At the moment, though, he's found his way to the mostly empty cafeteria and its coffee pots (empty because going here might end up getting you recruited to wash dishes or peel potatoes and really, where's the fun in that when you could sit in the gym hall and whine like everybody else). If he looks a little tired, he's probably got reason to. And a few weasel bites that he can't explain.

Someone who isn't rushing around is sitting, quietly poking at a laptop. Beside her, a bag that may or may not contain a number of batteries. Just in case. Her head is bent over the screen and she is typing rapidly, her brown eyes narrowed, the lashes lowered. Her lips are pressed together, her expression of concentration firmly in place, until the moment the typing pauses and she reaches for the mug beside her. Her gaze doesn't move from the screen, as she lifts it, aiming to take a swig of coffee, but she pauses, giving the mug a look of betrayal as it fails her. Empty.

That brings movement, energetic movement with the intent to caffeinate. She rises from the chair, leaving the laptop behind her, heading directly towards the coffee pots, mug in hand. The movement makes her outfit more visible, showing the soft jeans that look practical and comfortable, and the layers she wears, t-shirts over a long sleeved top, with a flowing loose jacket over the top. The boots that complete the outfit are practical, for these interesting times...

Like ships in the night, or coffee thirsty people in a cafeteria. Ravn digs through a cupboard for a clean mug -- and upon realising he is not the only shark circling the coffee pot, takes out two. "I think we're out of actual milk," he says by means of an introduction. "But there's dairy creamer and Stevia. I'm lucky, I take my coffee to match my jacket."

Black. Guy with the funny accent apparently does dad jokes too, huzzah.

He puts both mugs on the counter and pours coffee into them with gloved hands; cafeteria coffee is cafeteria coffee, but it's hot and it contains caffeine, and it will do. "Don't think I've had the honour," he adds, mustering up a tired little smile. "Ravn Abildgaard. Are you new in town, or have we just not managed to cross paths before?"

She lifts her mug, silently indicating that she has one, "No need. I like mine untainted." She smiles slightly as she puts the empty mug down, swapping it for her newly filled one. There is a moment where she lifts it to her lips, inhaling the scent, her eyes closing for a moment. Then she looks at him, a slight tilt to her head, her brown eyes assessing him. "Tanasha Jones. I moved here recently." The reply is spoken with a Seattle accent, with an open smile emerging as she offers her hand. "A good time to move here, it seems." The lift of her eyebrows is speaking, acknowledging the whirling weather.

Blue-grey eyes in turn assess the coffee (it is found wanting but what can you do, can't quite nip to the coffee shop). "Best time. Get to see us at our finest. Where finest means no one has murdered little Vicky Barrett the vegan, and only one stranded yachter is threatening to sue the city for hurricane damage to his damn boat. Town been treating you all right so far?" Grues tried to eat your face yet? might be the true interpretation there. Ravn glances about; none of the town gossips within earshot. "It's all turning out better than I dared to hope for. The storm is bad, and there's a lot of property damage -- but it's not nearly as bad as we were warned it would be. Or, at least not yet."

She lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, her lips quirking, "So far, so good. There is always one person who needs to blame when nature takes its toll." She leans a hip against the table, her fingers hugging the mug to her, like a life buoy. "Pretty impressive, getting everyone in here, and working together." She gestures back to the computer, "I still have signal so if anyone needs..." She waves a hand, vaguely indicating the things that someone might need that for.

Ravn settles across the table, curling long fingers around his coffee mug with appreciation of the caffeine content if not the brand. "Gray Harbor's kind of the town where everyone looks out for everyone a little. I've only lived here about a year? Felt at home pretty much right away. It's a small and provincial place, but people here are pretty decent on the whole."

He taps his fingertips against the mug handle a moment; some subjects are always fun to try to breach. "What brings you here, then? Not that it's any of my business but, you know -- beats Disney Princesses and whether Mrs Neely's cats are getting out and what Mrs Jankowski is going to do to them if they do manage."

"Very charming." The tone is a little dry but she smiles, her eyes laughing at her own cynicism. "It seems nice enough, although I could use a little more sunshine and less of this..." A gesture again takes in all of the things happening. "A desire for space, away from the city, away from so many people." Another moment where her lips tug upwards, mirrored in her brown eyes, "Seems ironic right now." Her voice holds that amusement too, as she leans back against the side, her gaze flickering over the room.

"I live alone, on a sail boat," Ravn murmurs. "Getting to share a shower with two hundred and fifty people out of whom most are strangers was not my idea of a fun summer holiday either, but what can you do. At least there is a shower? I usually shower at a friend's, my boat doesn't have one."

He shakes his head. "Strange times make strange bed mates. At least they let us have the gymnasium -- a lot of people would have had nowhere to go otherwise. It's part of what I like about this town and our little community of unusual people. Things get done. In strange and curious ways, sometimes, but they get done. That said -- I suppose what I should be asking is whether anyone's told you to hurry and right back out of town again while you still can. That's the usual welcome wagon spiel around here -- not that anyone ever actually does seem to. There was one girl who got back on the bus, I think, but even she stuck around a few weeks."

She laughs then, a sound that echoes, her eyes lighting up, "It could be worse. My nan used to refer to a whore's bath. Bits as and when they become available..." The grin changes her face, turning it warmer, bringing that laughter into her dark eyes. "I've been staying at some inn or other, until I get a place sorted." Her grin fades as he speaks though, her eyebrows drawing together, concern reflecting in. "Not so far. But I'm not one that goes if I'm told to." The smile is quick but there is a brief edge there, something glimmering under the surface of the friendliness, just a glimpse.

Ravn reaches towards a jacket pocket and then stops himself; bloody laws about smoking indoors. "Well, there you go. This is the Hotel California and you should check out any time but you can never leave, and so on. Gray Harbor is... it draws people like us." Whatever he means by that. From the words alone, possibly a really pathetic pickup line. From the man's expression, it might not be intended as one -- the leer is missing.

She tilts her head slightly, her eyes twinkling, "It seems a pretty special place. I put a pin in a map, and just went with that." The corner of her mouth quirks as she speaks, concealed as she takes a swig of her coffee. "Like us?" The question is lightly asked, but there is the touch of a narrowing of her eyes, the smallest of movements. So easily missed.

'Us' is not likely a matter of pigmentation; largely because the Dane has very little. As vanilla white goes -- can't get much whiter.

Ravn sips his coffee and returns the look evenly. "People like us," he echoes. "People who sometimes have -- strange experiences. See things. Or do things. There are a lot of us here -- Gray Harbor draws us in, sometimes from very far away. Do I realise I sound like the town loon hunting for his tinfoil hat? Yes, yes, I do."

Her gaze is steady, with a touch of puzzlement to it and there is a moment of silence before she replies softly, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what you mean." She lifts her mug, taking a sip before she adds lightly, "Town loon? Not at all. I'm sure your experiences are... what they are. I'm afraid I just don't know what you mean."

A gloved hand dips into a pocket after all, producing a somewhat battered old zippo lighter; silver metal carrying some kind of medievalish-looking coat-of-arms, perhaps a brand or gamers' design. Ravn puts it on the table between them. "People like us," he says, half-smiling in the fashion of someone who does in fact realise just how ridiculous he sounds. Possibly someone who's going to try to sell you on Herbalife in a moment, too.

He leans back and then holds his hand out, palm up. The lighter, no strings visible, pops off the table and floats towards him, coming to rest neatly on black kidskin.

"People who can do things like that," Ravn says with a small smile and then puts the lighter back on the table. Possibly in order to allow inspection for those strings.

She watches, that expression remaining on her face. Faint curiosity but nothing deeper. A little more than polite interest. She glances down at the lighter, and then watches it rise. Her expression stays almost precisely the same. "A nice trick." She makes the comment softly, before she glances around them, lifting her mug to her lips, the movement concealing her thoughts well. "And you think I can do this?"

"That particular trick? Not necessarily. Something? Yes. Even if 'something' just means sometimes seeing things at the corner of the eye, or having strange dreams where you wake up with scratches and scrapes you can't explain." The man sounds serious enough -- and quite relaxed, much like somebody talking about garden club or perhaps selling tupperware.

"A surprising amount of people come to this town or feel drawn here," Ravn says, cradling his mug in his hands. "Often can't quite say why -- why here, why not somewhere a little less run down, a little better weather? For me, I came here more or less accidentally, got tossed off my ride from Seattle to Portland. And yet it feels like coming home to a lot of us. I never met anyone who could do -- anything out the ordinary, before I came to Gray Harbor. Here? Many people call it shine or glow -- that kind of ambient power some people just have. I don't have a whole lot of it. You do."

She lowers the mug, studying him thoughtfully as she holds in both hands, resting it on the slight curve of her stomach. Her eyes narrow a little, the lashes making it harder to read their expression. "You are quite serious, aren't you? No. Sorry, I just needed space to think and be freer." She tilts her head a little, "A shine or glow." She repeats the words softly, before she turns with a soft intake of breath, putting her mug down hurriedly. Her movement conceals the mug from view, and when she turns back, her body blocks it. "Interesting though." The words are bright, and cheerful, friendly as you would like!

Ravn picks up his lighter and pockets it, still smiling. "Oh, yes, I am. But I also realise what I sound like if you have no idea what I'm talking about. So I'm just going to tell you one thing. It'll make sense to you if it ever becomes relevant -- and if it doesn't, well, then you've smiled and nodded to the village idiot for a few minutes which makes you a very nice person, and no harm is done. This is the important bit: When something happens, the only way is through. Find out what the story is, stick to the other people there, and get to the other side. And remember that whatever hurts you, is real."

He sips his coffee. "Enough about that. What kind of place are you looking for? I'm no real estate broker but I do know the town pretty well -- I walk a lot. For heaven's sake don't stay at the Seaview Motel if you don't have to. Place is haunted to kingdom come."

She laughs, shaking her head, "I don't not believe in ..magic and ghosts and things that go bump. There are more things in ..." She waves her hand, suggesting the rest of the quote, clearly forgetting the words, and moving on. "A nice simple place, out of the way. Few neighbours..." The answer is light and she turns back to get her coffee. She lifts the mug up, inhaling the steam from the hot coffee.

"Between Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Ravn grins slightly as he finishes the quote. "Sounds like maybe you should look into something on the edge of town. There's a number of smaller houses, A-frames, that sort of thing. Sort of cabin-like, not too crowded. I live on my boat for somewhat similar reasons -- a guy and his cat don't need a lot of space, and I like to nurture this flight of fancy that if I ever do want to pick up and leave, it's just pushing off from the pier and go."

She grins, her eyes dancing, "That's the one." She sips her coffee, a drink still steaming. "That sounds good. I want space to ... be private. Work out the things that made me move." She puts it carefully, stepping around the details neatly. "You have a cat? On a boat?" Another sip, her glance at the laptop swift, just checking it is still there.

"Might argue that the cat has a boat, and I am just employed to empty the litter box and supply tuna. She's a stray, walked on board sometime last autumn and stuck around. Who am I to argue?" Ravn laughs softly. "She does seem to enjoy sailing as long as she doesn't need to get her paws wet. And me? I do like the privacy. It's a little cramped but I'm not at home much anyhow -- this town has a way of keeping a man busy."

She laughs then, shaking her head slightly. "Sounds like a cat." She empties her mug, shooting him a grin. "I need to get on with some work..." The words are almost apologetic. "Money in the bank and all that. It has been interesting..." But she is smiling at him, as she puts the mug down on the table.

The smile is returned. "I'll see you around, no doubt. This town? Hard to not get to know most folks." In a town of eighteen thousand, that should actually not be so very difficult at all. Unless Ravn is still on about 'people like us'.

He remains seated, though. "I'm going to take a few more moments, enjoy the quiet, and then dive back into the nightmare of Disney and Pixar entertainment for the little ones. Watch your back, all right? They do say the weather's going to get worse."