2021-10-25 - All the Pretty Skulls In a Row

The HOPE Community Centre; not exactly a high-end venue with a lot of space and excellent facilities. Growing in popularity amidst the locals in that part of town all the same -- the run-down neighbourhood around Spruce Street. Gray Harbor's industrial district inhabited by men in lumberjack flannels and baseball caps; women in mom jeans and t-shirts. Some visitors stand out; there's the occasional rainbow hair or cashmere scarf that must have blown in from Bayside, but on the whole, Spruce Street is salt of the earth, the lower middle class, white picket fences and the occasional boarded up window. Cars well maintained but hardly new models; Spruce Street residents are respectable, hard working, and always quietly praying that nothing happens on the lumber mill that health insurance will not cover.

For all that HOPE may have been conceived as a subtle way to fight back against certain Veil entities, it's gaining traction as what it actually is -- a place for the community to get together and help itself.

Hardly a surprise, then, that preparations are underway for a bit of a Halloween get-together for the entire family, kids and adults alike. Ravn Abildgaard doesn't consider himself gifted with kids -- sticky, loud, unpredictable. But that's all right -- as far as he is concerned, any peal of juvenile laughter is sand thrown in the eyes of a dolorphage, and that he's all on board with. He's currently outside, gluing cardboard skulls with huge grins and top hats to the front window of the old butcher's shop that makes up the centre's front. He can't have made them himself -- they look like actual skulls.

The cherry red car that pulls up in front of the HOPE Centre isn't an uncommon sight, at least, nor is the young woman who steps out of it. Dressed in a black cold-shoulder mock-turtle neck, and a pair of brick red corduroy style overalls that end in very short shorts... over a pair of black leggings that seem sturdy enough to keep the worst of the chill away, and motorcycle boots. A black faux fur coat dangles from one manicured hand. Today, her stiletto nails are a matte metallic gold, and her subtle application of make up complements her autumnal theme.

"Those... look amazing." Perdita states, genuinely pleased to see the decor going up. "The kids are going to love them."

Isi is a walker - she might own a car - maybe - but she sure doesn't use it a lot. Feet get her between her apartment, city hall, and most places well enough kthanks.

Her goal isn't the hope center, but she's not in enough of a hurry to zip by without saying a'lo to Ravn and the woman who just approached him. She wanders off the pathway and towards the pair, lifting a hand up in a lazy greeting even as she eyes the decorations.

"Trust me, I didn't make them." Ravn grins reassuringly; and really, obviously, he didnt -- whoever did draw them had a steady hand and a good eye for fun caricature with just the right amount of little worms and blood drops to please a seven-year-old audience. He cheerfully hands Perdita the glue bottle and then raises a hand to wave at Isi. "Yo, Cameron -- have you met Leontes? She hates it when you call her Perdy."

Guess what he calls Perdita.

The Dane is in an obvious good mood; maybe he likes Halloween.

"You are aware that even if you're a freaking foot taller than me I can still take you down with both hands tied behind my back?" There's no actual venom in the statement, more... a resigned fondness. She accepts the glue readily enough, turning her smile to the woman introduced as Cameron. "I'm Perdita. You can call me Dita, if you like."

"For an extremely smart person, you're really stupid Ravn." Isi replies, shaking her head as she comes to a stop a step or so away from the others. Her hands settle into her pockets - she's not volunteering to make the undead pretty yet.

"Isi - nice to meet you Dita. Tell me - is the last name thing someone that just Ravn does, or everyone here?"

"Now I have to wonder what I did to earn that zinger," Ravn grins slightly and hands Perdita the stack of skulls too. This, after all, is a splendid opportunity to pull out a cigarette and his battered old coat-of-arms zippo -- and he can do so, he's outdoors. He draws on the cigarette and then laughs, half amused, half just -- sheepish. "So, I had the funniest dream the other night. And the best part? Now I have a Halloween costume."

"Nice to meet you, too, Isi. I think it's a Danish thing, honestly. No one else here insists on either my surname or nicknames that conjure sounds of banjos." Perdita takes the stack of skulls, grimacing as Ravn lights up and stepping away to give the man a wide berth. "I am not dressing up like Robin Hood, no matter how fetching you looked in that linen shift."

Isi cocks an eyebrow up at Ravn, her expression clearly conveying, 'my statement stands you're smart - figure it out'. Shaking her head she looks down and around at the things.

"I'm trying to find a polite way to ask if it was a 'dream' or a 'Dream'. Though if she's seen it, I'm going for the capitalized version?"

Ravn hehs. "Yeah, it was definitely the capitalised version. And I really did wake up wearing a green dress. It's hidden in a drawer now because if Kinney finds it, well, all bets are off and I may have to go find another costume for myself."

He holds the cigarette downwind, keeping the smoke from flying towards either woman. "And apparently I have good legs in a medieval dress. Perdy tells me as much -- and given she had to help me rapel down a castle wall while I wore one, I'd argue she speaks with some authority on the matter." The Dane shakes his head. "This was one of those dreams I wish everyone else got to see too, because it was fucking hilarious, not going to lie."

"Oh, to have had a camcorder." Perdita mutters. Her eyes narrow, ever so slightly as Ravn mangles her name again, but she's still smiling... likely just plotting vengeance.

"He was apparently engaged to a V E R Y buff woman who wanted to impregnate him. I tried to ask how the birds and the bees would work in that situation, but..." she shrugs slightly, "Nary an explanation." she turns to smile at Isi, "New to town, local, or have you been here a while?"

Isi shakes her head slowly and presses a finger to the middle of the forehead - like talk of Capital D Dreams makes her head start to hurt.

"Dreams enjoy fucking with you, don't they?" She sounds a little sympathetic, but then turns towards Dita to answer that question. "Quasi-new. Not native - but been here long enough that I can't quite hold to my skepticism as much as I wish I could."

"Myes, my fiancee, the Sheriff of Harborham apparently was played by Rutger Hauer in drag." Ravn can't help chuckle and wince at once, calling up the memory to his mind's eye -- hell of a lot of woman on a hell of a lot of black horse. And, no, I don't know about the birds and the bees either as far as that is concerned but I have developed an entirely new depth of understanding for medieval runaway brides."

He chuckles and picks out a skull with a cheerful green worm staring out an eyesocket and holding a little Vacancy for Rent sign in its ... tail? "The last name thing is kind of, sort of Danish? I picked it up from people here, but I picked it up because I can never find out when I'm supposed to use someone's first name, or last name, or call them sir or ma'am. You English speakers have very strange naming conventions."

"This one mostly seemed keen to mess with Raven." Why, yes, she mangled his name, her expression ever so innocent as she does, too. She somehow manages to sound even more American than she normally does as she pronounces the name. "My Robin Hood outfit only had a little boning in the vest, and I was in soft soled boots perfect for climbing up the side of a building."

"I've been here about four-... six? months, and it's still taking some getting used to. I apparently went incommunicado for a few weeks, from an outside friend's perspective... so that was new."

"I can't fault the veil for having good taste in who to fuck with." Isi replies mildly, a crooked smile arching upwards on her lips. "Some people can take a... what was it you said?" she has to pause, "a buff sheriff trying to copulate with them. Others? Well. That's why you have the Hope Center, right?"

Isi shakes her head once then glances at Perdita again. "Yeah - I don't have many friends so no one really remarked on that sudden loss-of-time. - you mean that stuff right after the Storm?" Because this is Gray Harbor. Totally possible for it to be a different event.

Ravn sticks the skull on the window. "Think most of us lost a couple of months. No one can tell you why. My girlfriend was in Toronto when it happened, and according to her, the entire town just went kind of -- incommunicado. As in, texts didn't come through. She couldn't get a plane ticket here. No news. But in that weird-ass Veil way where everyone else thinks this is absolutely normal, and they have some plausible sounding reason for it, every time. She ended up getting back by going through the Veil from a thin spot up there, apparently."

He grins at Isi and adds, "She wasn't trying to copulate with me, thank God for small mercies. Said she wanted my land, and that she intended to marry me and make sure I died in childbirth. Was happy enough to latch on to Perdy's suggestion that she just take me away and we'd all quietly pretend I got murdered in a ditch somewhere."

"I could handle a buff sheriff trying to copulate with me... just not our sheriff. I don't need the drama... The implication was that she'd already tried to copulate with Raven," is her voice getting more Midwestern every time she mangles his name? "and it was... 'like pushing a sausage up a hill with a spoon'. Apparently Rutger Hauer doesn't do it for him, for some reason." Dita offers up another paper skull once Ravn's got the proper one up.

Isi abruptly raises a hand like she's back in school. "Okay, one sec, back up - before we get to anything else. Girl friend? I thought you were like an uber bachelor thanks to your previous marriage?"

Yeah - she's stuck on that for a little bit, though her gaze flicks back to Perdita, "Ah - wait - what?"

Ravn blinks; he'd clearly not considered this interpretation previously. "Good lord," he murmurs after a moment. "Well, if that's the case I'm, uh, glad that that happened off camera, so to speak. Because no, honestly, seven foot women in plate armour with yellow crew cuts are not quite my thing. The women with crew cuts -- not the plate armour. Loved Rutger Hauer in Ladyhawke but -- good lord," he repeats. "That's what it was, isn't it? Hauer's Captain Navarre, but genderswapped."

Is he not noticing the name mangling? Or more likely, people do this to him all the time, unintentionally.

Another draw on the cigarette and a slow blink at Isi. "I've never been married. I have been engaged. She died -- after I tried to break it off."

"I don't know, I mean... if she and I were in prison together she's who I'd go for to keep me safe from the other inmates. Big, buff, legs like tree trunks, hitch to plow when ox dies." Dita gives Isi a sidelong glance with a slightly raised eyebrow, amusement just barely visible on her usually well controlled face. Dark eyes move from Ravn to Isi and back, but she doesn't say anything. "I think he was as surprised by the turn of events as we were, from what he's said?"

"My bad - sorry. Forgot the details." Isi actually does sound apologetic, the tinge of sarcasm that lives on her lips moderated with sincerity. She doesn't add anything else, scratching at her jaw in embarrassment.

Ravn holds out a pink skull with a decidedly Mexican Day of the Dead theme towards Isi. "Here, tuck this up and I shall formally forgive you. I don't think I've ever mentioned it much? Anyhow, she -- died, yes. More than five years ago, so, I'm not about to break down in tears talking about it. And yes -- the end of this time skip for me was getting tackled by someone who'd been told by the Veil creatures that I was dead. She was rather insistent maybe it was time to stop waffling around and beating around the bush."

Spoken softly, Dita murmurs, sympathetically, "I routinely put my foot so deep in my own mouth that it's half digested before I can free it." before speaking louder, "I woke up in a strange bed, with a strange man, and a strange cat. Turns out the bed and the cat were mine, and the strange man was just visiting." she smiles at the representation of a sugar skull, approvingly, before turning her attention back to Ravn. "I think he works with the fire department, so... don't start any fires around me for a few weeks, at least."

"Tuck this up...?" Isi says as she accepts the skull and holds it in her hands supper awkwardly, having no idea what she's suppose to tuck this into at all.

"I guess there are worse things than to wake up next to someone cuddly? Stranger or no?"

"I have this vague idea you don't exactly mind waking up next to a firefighter's worth of abs and charm, Perdy." Ravn hands Isi the glue bottle and nods up at the other cardboard skulls, glued to the window. Cheerful lot, most of them wearing top hats. Worms, flies, and in one case, a colourful frog, seem optional. He definitely did not draw these himself.

"My cat -- well, I didn't pick her up after the storm as planned. So apparently she bolted from the girl I had babysitting her -- and went for a three month romp around the Veil along with her Other Side twin who is kind of lynx-sized and quite murderous. They both turned up at Kailey Holt's, demanding ample amounts of tuna. Holt dropped her off at my new place after -- since one of the things I apparently did while I was sleeping was buy a house on Oak Street and move into it, with Aidan Kinney as a room mate. Which is why I am now expecting Aidan Kinney to steal my new, Lincoln green Maid Marian dress at first opportunity."

Seeing Ravn has the instructions down for Isi, Perdita smiles, "I mean, he had nice arms at least. But... let's just say he focused on working out the body and left out the brain." there's a faint shake of her head, "But gosh, he was pretty... As for Aidan stealing your dress, tell him if he needs one that badly I have a costume trunk he can raid, and while he's taller, he's not that much broader than me. Something will either fit or can be altered to fit, but you WILL be dressed as Maid Maravn one way or another." Does the nickname really work? No. Does it need to? Also no. "Also, if my cat has an Other Side twin, I'm going to need to get more catfood."

"....glue?" Isi mutters to herself, shaking her head slowly at the thought of attaching something like this to glass with something as long lasting as glue. But that was the direction given, so... she does it.

"Congrats on having a stable place to stay - that boat didn't seem particularly healthy in the long run. "

"Nothing wrong with the Vagabond -- in summer. It's not summer anymore." Ravn nods with good nature; the idea of how to get the paper skulls off the glass again has either not occurred to him, or there's some other plan here (given his experience, first hand, with childrens' parties, it's probably the former). "I still plan to live on my boat most of the year. We'd been talking about getting a place for a while though. Bit more space than a trailer, for books and girlfriends. Kinney's in a long distance relationship, English girl."

"It's fine, I'll..." she glances at the cardboard skulls in her hands, and the entire stack lifts briefly, spinning a full three sixty, before lowering back down once more, "take care of it when Halloween's good and over, if they're still up."

"I... kind of feel vaguely irritated. We did all that work getting the hull clear, and then The Veil just skipped over your entire time living in it for the summer, it seems like." Still, Perdita's in good spirits, clearly enjoying the autumnal weather over that of summer... even if she did miss prime sugar daddy hunting season.

Isi's experience with children and/or decorations is about... nothing, so when Perdita puts on a display of what she can do she arches a shoulder as if to give in to other's expertise.

"You know a lot about boats then?" Isi asks, inserting herself mildly into the conversation again.

"Myes -- I do feel a little cheated." Ravn nods; he's not going to argue this -- that was the entire beach bonfire, violins in the surf, moonlit ocean drifting season he missed there, and he's actually kind of miffed about it too. "But on the other hand, now I'm a proper house owner with my very own white picket fence and carport, presumably I'll be sticking around in town long enough to make up for it next year. And if the Veil wants to keep adding to my wardrobe -- I mean, I could open a costume shop. There has to be other men six foot plus who always, always secretly longed to own a Hollywood style medieval dress."

He chuckles, realising that Isi's question was not for him, and looks at Perdita for her answer, curious. "Think you said something about spending the summer on the deck of some rich sucker's yacht?"

"Soon, you'll have bouncing baby bundles to keep inside that picket fence, at this rate, Ravn." and she's back to pronouncing it properly, "And in my experience, there are plenty of six foot plus men who like to cross dress. And they always find me." the last is said with just a hint of irritation. "I... don't know a lot about boats, though I think in this town if you aren't careful you pick things up whether you mean to or not... and yes. I'd intended to spend the summer sunning myself out on the water, but it was not to be, clearly. Personally, I blame Ravn."

"Sounds like a reasonable thing to assume - I've found that weird shit happens to him more often than most. Last time I was around him there was a dragon... thing." Thing is a good catchall for things here in Gray Harbor.

"Good luck with the babies there," Isi says off hand, standing on her tip toes to squish that cardboard skull to the window.

"You always blame me. Both of you do." Ravn picks out a neon blue skull with a lightning design. "And honestly? No. I'm not a kids person, and I'm pretty sure Hyacinth isn't, either. Might have to actually have the talk sometime but, don't start crocheting baby onesies for us just yet is all I'm saying."

He glances at Isi and then laughs. "Oh man, the dragon. The way Kinney and Holt shamed that poor thing into slinking off? That was awesome!" The Dane turns to look at Perdita. "So there's this giant -- well, it was a dragon, call it whatever you want, it was a freaking winged dinosaur. Trying to trash the high school roof. And they just -- flicked its nose and made it feel really bad about what it was doing, then shoved it back through a door into the Veil like an embarrassed puppy. Not going to lie, that was some of the most awesome Veil stuff I've seen to date."

Awesome, the word you want to use around Veil manifestations. Right?

"Oh, god, his and Hya's babies would be adorable. Can't wait to cuddle them, then hand them back once they've filled their diapers." she tells Isi, stepping back slightly to look over the windows, before returning to holding the skulls within easy reach for both, because she's not ruining her nails with glue, today.

"Well if I don't blame you, it would be my fault and that doesn't sound right at all. I'm perfectly blameless, without fault. Nothing has ever been my fault." her dark eyes sparkle with mischief. Clearly, she doesn't believe her own hype.

"Yeah, well, it's fun." Isi replies, patting the skull once to make sure that it's going to stick and not fall for gravity. Once she's sure of it she turns back and cocks her head slightly one way. "The socialite is the girl you're stepping out with?" There's a hesitation in Isi's voice as if she's not sure about if she's pegged the right girl.

Ravn applies glue to Señor Turquoise Skull. "I suppose you can call her that. She prefers to go by 'corporate conquistadora'. And what the hell she wants with a bloke who lives on a boat with his cat is anyone's guess but who am I to argue? As long as no one expects me to roll up in a suit and tie at some formal affair with photographers and cocktail dresses, I'm good. Also, everything is Perdy's fault."

"I... think socialite might be the better term." Dita weighs in, eyes just a little wide, "And I don't have time to explain how wrong it is that it's my fault. I am as innocent as the freshly fallen snow, purer than the first notes of a child's laughter, as unsullied as the new dawn. Nothing is ever my fault." she glances to Isi for back up, "Right? It's always his fault... and also you'd look better in the cocktail dress, after what I've seen."

"Yep. Always his fault. We're talking about Ravn in the cocktail dress right? Hya would look amazing in anything she wore up to and including a raggedy old towel." Is that envy? Juuussstttt a little. Some people just look amazing a f without even trying.

"Sorry Ravn - that's just how it is."

Ravn makes a face and sticks the blue skull to the window. "I'd have to shave my legs, wouldn't I. There's something fundamentally wrong with any piece of clothing that forces you to shave to wear it. Same applies to pockets -- how women survive without them is beyond me. I've been told a few times that it's definitely not by choice, and if I ever decide to go into the fashion industry, I'm designing dresses with pockets."

He winks at Isi. "Mind you, I don't disagree about the towel."

"I mean, I'm sure you'd look absolutely gorgeous in a cocktail dress, too, but yes, Ravn. In stiletto heels, trying to seduce information out of a hostile enemy agent." Perdita's grinning at Ravn now, because she KNOWS the Veil, or someone beyond it, is listening to her interactions with him now. And he keeps calling her Perdy, so he deserves it.

"Purses. We carry purses the size of small vehicles to manage the things men can carry in their pockets. Or... we find a dress we like and wear it out in a season because it has pockets. If I can't smuggle the crown jewels of England out in a dress, I'm not wearing it."

Isi's laughter is a snort - at least she's polite enough to not laugh in Ravn's face directly?

"I hate the fact we don't have pockets. Seriously - I swear it's the West's greatest imposition of male authority. " Mini feminist popping up there, it's fine. It's fine.

"I'm trying to work out whether you'd take just the jewels in which case a regular purse probably will do the trick, or the entire crown, apple, and scepter, in which case I think you need a suitcase," Ravn murmurs because why not be pedantic when you get the opportunity. "Also, I'm told the koh-i-noor is really bad luck so I'd suggest letting Queen Liz keep that one, even if it is very pretty."

He grins slightly. "I guess that's one perk to being born male -- pockets. Honestly? It makes no sense. Also, yes, I do in fact realise I probably just signed on for some whacked-out dream experience in which I have to somehow navigate a day as a female intern in a pencil dress. It's bound to happen -- the Veil doesn't hear a conversation like this without getting ideas. All I can hope for is that the two of you get to star as gorilla thugs in mankinis."

There's a grin at Isi at the comment about pockets and the mini feminist rant, the expression one of approval, "One of the things I miss most from my tomboy days are the pockets in men's jeans. Even the most generous pockets in women's jeans can barely hold lipgloss and a wallet, while the men's jeans could hold a hardback copy of Wuthering Heights."

"Just hope and pray I'm not your boss, sweet cheeks." Dita mimes swatting Ravn on the rump with the stack of skulls, but doesn't actually contact him, both out of respect for his autonomy, and also because neuropathy.

"Right? Once I grew curves that shit just didn't sit right anymore." Isi sighs dramatically at the loss of sensible pants. Turning she eyes the stack coming in close, but not quite, contact with Ravn's ass.

"Would Ravn even know what to do with someone as his boss? I feel like he'd end up just pissing someone off."

"You're assuming I never had to work for somebody." Ravn laughs and reaches for a skull that could play lead guitar for Mötley Crüe. "I still work for somebody. I work for the University of Copenhagen and the Danish Ministry of Education, with a side order of the Veteran's Union. I've also worked for a couple of less legit operations when I was younger, largely swiping things and climbing in through windows. In fact, the only thing I haven't done -- is be somebody else's boss. I think I'd make a very poor boss, to be honest."

"Some of us never really grew curves, but I empathize all the same. Pockets are sorely missed, which is why sometimes I just say 'fuck it' and wear some Oshkosh B'gosh coveralls and call it an outfit." Dita's smile is wry and self deprecating. "Also, you say that as if Ravn doesn't piss somebody off every day. Or, for example, when he calls them names they don't like." still, she looks amused.

"Calling it now. Next dream, Ravn's somebody's boss and they end up walking all over him, either figuratively or literally, if that Sheriff shows up again."

"Yeah, but I'm betting you don't show them your face on a regular." Isi replies. She eyes that pile of skulls still to be put up, but edges away just slightly before she gets volunteered into more decorating community service. Why yes, she is fairly selfish.

"I feel like doing anything that has imagination is like feeding the Veil bad ideas."

"I show them my face insofar I teach online?" Ravn puts up Slash the Skull, top hat and all. "And, you're not wrong. Anything we say can be used against us, it's true. But we also have to keep on living. If you go down that rabbit hole -- the only solution is to get out of town, really. Any joke, any offhand comment, anything you don't even put to words, it can be used. But not all of these dream experiences are bad, you know? This... Robin Hood affair, it was honestly just very funny. I'd probably have thought it a whole less funny if I actually thought I was about to get sexually molested by gender swapped Rutger Hauer, but that's not how the narrative works. Robin Hood saves Maid Marian. Granted, in some versions he then goes on to die, but in the versions most people know they live happily ever after -- and the Veil plucks the stories from our minds so odds are for a Disney ending on that account."

He winks at Perdita. "Although of course I question the idea of a happy ending for you and me. I mean, who'd I ask for help when I can't open a pickles jar?"

"All the more reason to feed it ideas. Overload it, make it too confused to pick just one." Dita hands the next Skull off to Ravn, still amused that she's been recruited into this, though she does help out at the center fairly regularly.

"I'm offended you think I can't open a pickle jar. You're right, but that's because I lost all my grip strength about eight years ago... ironically around the time I started craving pickles like mad."

"God - remind me to not thing of any of the legends growing up - or fuck, think too much? The Thunderbird was freaky enough," Isi isn't actually saying that to anyone, it's more muttered under breath like wisdom for herself. She shakes her head violently as if to cast off the idea .

"I should probably get going, but it was nice to see you Ravn, and meet you Dita."

"

"We met your thunderbird," Ravn murmurs. "And yeah -- he was pretty freaky. Look out for yourself, all right? And come by on Halloween, this place is going to be -- awful. Kids, parents, grandparents. Kid friendly music. Vegan snacks. It'll be pure horror."

"It was great meeting you too, Isi. Hope to see you around again, sometime!" Perdita smiles warmly at the other woman, head tilting slightly as she does, but pointedly not commenting about the Thunderbird. She doesn't want to end up meeting Sarah e Kali or anything from HER heritage, so....