2021-10-30 - Mischief Night

It's not the most hospitable of evenings on the Boardwalk. The air has gone chill, and although the skies are clear, the stars seem cold and far away, the almost full moon hanging in the sky, watching the town. There's a thick fog coming off the ocean, chill and pushed forward with a salt-scented breeze that has a tendency to cut right through clothing and find the flesh underneath, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As such, the usually merry amusements are subdued. Most are closed for the winter; but a few hopeful (or desperate) stall owners remain.

And since there IS food to buy and a few games to play, that means that townies and a few casino-visitors are here, braving the cold, because there's not a whole lot else to DO in Gray Harbor. Most wander aimlessly from one place to another, cuddling with a partner, or looking slightly glazed, no doubt in more interesting places in their mind. Or stoned; the smell of weed is almost as strong as the smell of fish in some places. And while Alexander looks more like he belongs with the homeless who regularly make their beds under the Boardwalk, he is neither aimless nor stoned. He stands in a heavy, olive green Army jacket with the insignia removed, a junk shop special that's at least two sizes too big for him. His jeans are faded, and his sneakers are about to fall apart. His hair is too long, pushed untidily out of his way as he stares at a poor stall-owner. "I was here on September 10th. What was I doing?"

"Jesus, man, I don't know. That was a fucking month ago. I assume you were buying food. Speaking of," he waves to the hot dogs and sausages he's TRYING to sell. "Buy something or fuck off."

Long hair pulled up in a high ponytail that adds at least two inches to her height, Perdita Leontes is out for a walk. Perhaps she's looking for the woman known as Baba Yaga around these parts, perhaps she's just enjoying the nearly full moon and the distant stars, or perhaps she's out trying to do a charitable good deed or two. She's got a heavy looking duffel bag worn across her body, and if she's one of the homeless, she certainly isn't dressed like it at the moment. A faux fur coat protects, at least a bit, from the cold, and in a rare turn of events she's actually wearing a pair of denim jeans... though she can't help but wear a pair of designer wedge booties. Stilettos on the board walk are a no go, even for her... at least today.

As one of the homeless, an older man who seems at least casually familiar with the young woman, approaches, Perdita reaches into her bag and hands him a small shopping bag, and a thermos that steams slightly as it hits the cold night air. She speaks softly, asking the man a question that isn't in English. The man is careful to avoid touching her hands. He shakes his head in the negative, and she nods, looking a little disappointed, before saying, a little louder, "If you see her, let her know I'm looking for her, hakyares so phenav, eh?"

The old man nods, responds, "Na nekazhisawo, nevi!" and wanders off, returning to his companions. Perdita continues on down the boardwalk, glancing back, clearly worried about the man but unwilling or unable to make him come with her, before shaking her head and turning her gaze to Alexander and the vendor. "Everything okay?" she asks, clearly including both men in the question. "Either of you seen a girl, about five feet, brown hair... blue-green eyes?" she reaches into her bag, holding up a thermos and another of those paper shopping bags, offering them up to Alexander... clearly mistaking him for one of the homeless.

Alexander is engaged in a standoff - or STAREoff - with the stall owner, both men glaring at each other while a couple of other would be customers shuffle uneasily on the edges of the confrontation. Alexander's twitchy enough that his eyes dart to the side upon hearing the non-English, but his focus returns immediately to the guy. "Just tell me what I want to know."

"Buy a fucking hot dog, or get the hell out of my face."

Alexander's taking a breath, no doubt to escalate, when Perdita approaches. Both men stop, give her a once over, although the vendor's expression is more hopeful. At least until she starts asking questions, at which point he throws his hands in the air, and shouts, "Did someone write 'GOOGLE' on my fucking face when I got up this morning? I don't know nothing! Buy a hot dog or go away!"

Alexander ignores the shouting to give the offered bag and thermos a bemused look. He doesn't take them. But he focuses back on her face with dark, intense eyes. "No. Not recently. What's her name and when's the last time you saw her?" The questions are fired out with precision and interest.

"Not here, goddamn it! Go away, Clayton!"

This time, Alexander sighs, and turns to walk away from the booth, at least a few paces so that other people can actually buy food. He doesn't look back at her, but just talks to the air like he's just assuming she'll follow, "Is she formally missing, or did you two simply become separated?"

The young woman tilts her head at the sausage vendor, smirking just a little, "I might be back for one in a minute, they smell delicious." She follows after Alexander, having to take a few long steps to catch up. "She's... new to town. Her name's Selene, she's... I honestly don't know how old she is. She could be anywhere from fourteen to twenty five, easily, and I just... want to make sure she's not in any danger out here. Living on the streets can be... difficult... for a girl by herself." Dita's expression softens, and she looks up at Alexander, "Not trying to be her mom or anything, I was just in that situation a few years back and it led me to make some REALLY dumb decisions I'll be regretting for years to come." The shopping bag is stuffed back into the duffel bag for now, and she takes a moment to actually look at the man she's speaking to.

"You look familiar. I never forget a face."

Alexander turns back to her when she follows him away, and stares at her with that same flat expression as she explains. "It's dangerous," he agrees, without much emotion one way or another. "Have you checked under the boardwalk? Does she have any addictions, or turn tricks?" There's no condemnation in the questions; he seems to just be going through a mental checklist.

At least until her last sentence. He reorients on her. "Alexander Clayton. Have you seen me?" It's a weird question to ask in any circumstances, but the intensity he puts behind it is significant.

"... lost time?" she asks, softly, before shaking her head, "Perdita Leontes. I think we may have met before, but... I haven't seen you recently, no. At least... not that I remember. I lost a few months, myself." She looks sympathetic. "Have you tried Baba Y'ga? She's... often pretty good at telling you the past and future, maybe she could tell you what you've done the past few months."

Dita shifts the bag on her hip, "I don't know. For her sake, I hope she doesn't have any addictions, life is hard enough out here without needing a regular fix. She seemed like maybe she was running from someone, so... I'm worried."

Alexander's shoulders slump, and he gives a brief, curt nod, an acknowledgement of the lost time. Then growls at the mention of Baba Yaga. "Even if she could, she wouldn't. Those creatures never speak straight, and they don't have any of our best interests at heart. I advise you to steer clear of her, and her like." A pause, before he adds, "She eats children, you know. In the stories."

His duty of warning done, he turns away to study the Boardwalk. "All right, Miss Leontes. Come on. We'll go under the Boardwalk and ask the regulars. Do you have money? Bribery is useful." He turns and starts to walk away, again, this time towards the beach end of the Boardwalk, not trusting one of the side stairs in the fog and wet.

There's a soft laugh from Perdita, and she shakes her head slightly, "I know the tales of Baba Y'ga." An accent slips out that isn't her typical polished distinct, lack of an accent, one that blends Slavic and... something else. "Baba Y'ga, if that's who she actually is, doesn't eat little girls... she frees them. She might not have our best interests at heart, but neither does she have our worst interests at heart. She's... a mirror. She reflects what we show, and more importantly, what we wish to hide, even from ourselves."

Still, she moves along with Alexander, patting the bag at her hip. "I've got scarves, hats and mittens, sandwiches and hot cocoa, all packed up in bio-degradable, reusable bags. Not as useful as money, but... In my experience the promise of a warm meal and warm drink does a lot of good, too. I'd have frozen to death or starved a few times if it wasn't for the food van and the woman who ran it."

"She's not Baba Yaga, though," Alexander says, with a grumpy sound. "Baba Yaga as in your stories likely doesn't exist. This is just a creature from the Veil that feeds on you when you let her close. You should set her on fire, not ask her for your fortune." Mutter, mutter, grumble, grumble. He stomps down the rocky beach, viciously kicking a stone in a fit of irritation, and watching it bounce off into the fog.

Then, he takes a breath. They're nearing the homeless camp under the Boardwalk; it's smaller than he remembers. Much smaller, between those chased away (or lost) in the storm, and then initiatives like the HOPE center and new homeless shelters. But there are still people here, mostly older men and women, huddled around camps they've claimed for years. Most of them have a bit of Glimmer - or too much Glimmer - and it shines in the dark as Alexander slips into the darkness underneath. Heads immediately come up, and people prepare to flee.

They relax, fractionally, when they see Alexander. One old man clacks his teeth. "Clayton. Been a while. Heard you were dead."

"Not yet," Alexander says, and moves to sit across from the old man, apparently not minding the way his ass is immediately soaked in cold seawater, or the...smell that comes off the old guy. "Jackson. Looking for a girl. Goes by Selene, young, short, brown hair, blue-green eyes. Seen her?"

Instead of answering, the old man sniffs, then hawks up a gob of spit and spits it into a nearby finger of seawater. He gestures at Perdita. "Who's this? Sister? Is there a reward?" He's not really asking Alexander, his eyes are locked on the woman.

"Isn't it possible that the Baba Y'ga from my stories always was a Veil creature?" Dita asks, clearly amused. She knows the Old Woman is dangerous, whatever she may be, and that one must be careful. But she also seems to have a certain fondness for her, as she did for the old man, even if he's always careful to avoid touching her.

"Someone who hopes to be a friend. I was where she is, a few years ago... I just want to make sure she can take care of herself." Somehow, despite the perfectly manicured nails, the faux fur, the jewelry, she seems as much at home here as she did up on the boardwalk.

"I'm not trying to change her life, or convince her to leave the camp if she's here, I just... wanna make sure people are treating her well, make sure she has the essentials. Not trying to put a bounty on her head or anything." she walks up to the old man, taking out a bag. In the enclosed space, the smell of warm bread and roast beef fills the area quickly. "I didn't know how many folks would be down here with it getting so much colder, but... I've got food and hot drinks and cotton knitwear for a cold night, whether you know anything or not." She doesn't sit next to the man, but she does crouch, offering him the bag.

Jackson eyes the young woman, making a snuffling sound as the smell of roast beef fills the air. He lifts out a hand to take the bag that's offered. Other folk shuffle closer; it's cold out, and looking to get colder, so the warmth and food is welcome. They listen to her with more resignation than sympathy. It's Jackson that says, "Think I've seen her around, here and there. Not recently. Don't know where she went. Don't know what she's mixed up in, or if she just took a bus out of town."

"Does she stand out?" Alexander asks, an emphasis on the words.

The old man - who shines with his own Glimmer - shrugs. "L'il bit. Not so much you'd expect to find her down here too often. Maybe try the shelters."

Alexander sighs, and rises to his feet. "Thanks, Jackson. If you see her, maybe tell her the lady's looking for her?"

There's a grunt, and a suspicious look at Perdita. Seems the old man ain't committing to it, one way or the other.

There's a wry smile from Perdita, and she hands the man the bag, then sets about passing out the others, as well as thermoses. She's clearly got some money, if she can afford this sort of gesture. "Well, if you see her, and you do decide to tell her, I'm at the HOPE center a lot, so if she needs anything, she can get a message to me there." Once she's sure everyone's got a bag, she nods to herself, pleased that she's estimated at least enough.

She looks around, actually /looking/ at the people around her, rather than through them, her friendly expression hiding her worry for their safety. "Happy Halloween, folks. Stay safe."

Alexander doesn't help hand out items, and as people step close to take them from Perdita, he scrambles to his feet and slips out from under the shadows of the Boardwalk, to stand in the fog, away from them, instead. He watches the sea - what little can be seen of it - until she's done. When she re-emerges, he says, "Shelters are probably your best bet, or she found someone to shelter with. They weren't worried about her, and usually, if someone gets Lost - or preyed upon - at least one of them will sense something. So she's probably alive."

The young woman steps out from under the boardwalk after a few minutes, and has left the food, the dufflebag now empty, zipped down to the size of a purse, on her hip. "Probably. She seemed smart... she may have already hopped a bus or hitched a ride, there's not a lot to keep a stranger here, after all."

Slim hands get tucked into pockets, as she looks up at Alexander. "Thank you. I... don't want her to feel chased, just want her to know if she needs help, it's out there for her." she glances back at the folks under the boardwalk, smiling a little sadly. "Same goes for them. I've been here long enough to know it's going to get cold under there... and I also know there are things out here who hunt them." she looks up at the night sky, watching the fog of her breath stream away, letting out a soft sigh. "This is Mischief Night. Do folks do that out here?"

"If she stands out, she's probably still around," Alexander says, with a brief grimace. "The town is a pitcher plant. Once you arrive, it's hard to leave until it lets you." He shakes his head at the thanks, dismissing it with a flick of his fingers. "It was nice of you to bring things for them," is all he says about that.

He looks up at the stars, following the movement of her gaze. "Mm. My house usually gets egged, so yes. I suppose. There is, at least, mischief. Halloween is a menace," he adds, with a sigh. "Did you wish to look elsewhere, or may I walk you somewhere? It's not always safe."

"Like I said, I help out at the HOPE Center, and I know... there are folks who either can't get into the shelters or refuse to accept them. But it's hard to say no to the nice girl who brings sandwiches and hot cocoa in /exchange/ for something. Then you're doing a possible service in exchange. Suddenly, it's not charity, but a payment for the service rendered." She glances over at Alexander, smiling.

"I've always loved Halloween. A chance to dress up, be somebody else, even for just a night? It used to be positively magical, in a way that few other holidays are, for me." Of course, she does that for a living, these days... "Just back up to the boardwalk, thank you. You've got your own mystery to get back to, after all, and I promise I'm neither as helpless or as dumb as I pretend."

"You probably know Abildgaard, then," Alexander says. "He seems involved with that place, as well." He doesn't smile in response to her words, but he doesn't look like he smiles much, in general. He does nod, once, agreeing with her--at least until she mentions Halloween.

From the way his face curdles like soured milk, he's not a fan. "It's a fucking awful night. Everyone wearing masks, refusing to be who they are. Egging my house." He waves a dismissive hand. "Can't wait for it to be over, myself. But if you enjoy it, then Happy Halloween." He leads the way back up the gentle slope to where grass grows; his eyes dart sideways to study her. "You didn't seem helpless or dumb, to me. But you're less likely to get Lost with people. It happens. But not as often."

"He's a friend." she replies, with a smile, "He was one of the first people to make me feel welcome here, and that meant a lot to me. So... I help out where I can, when I can."

"You've never been desperate to be someone else, have you? Sometimes masks are a good way to figure out who you want to be when the mask comes off... Still, that's no excuse for egging your house."

She meets Alexander's eyes, briefly, though she's mostly watching where she's going, a small smile toying at the corners of her lips, "I've yet to meet anything I can't handle, but I appreciate the concern. This..." she gestures toward the city, in general, "is all still pretty new. I lost about three months of time, so while I've technically been here nine months or so, a third of that's just... gone. I went to bed in my motel room, and woke up in an apartment I apparently now have."

"He's a good guy," Alexander says, like he's just stating a well-known fact of the universe. "Glad he's making friends. And you're making friends with him."

Her question stops him. "Of course I have. But you can't. You can only be what you are, or something else." He frowns. "And the last time something else tried to be me, it was a worm that bit my brain. I don't like things that try to be other things." He shrugs. "But do what you want."

There's a slow nod to the last. "The missing time...that's new. Hasn't happened before. Be careful. Don't go looking for fucking Baba Yaga." Although he sounds more resigned to the fact that suggestion will be ignored, than anything. "And you don't remember anything? Did you seem to do anything unusual while you were...during the missing time?"

"I'm glad to be his friend, to be sure." her smile becomes a little more hesitant, looking up at Alexander, "Do worms try to bite your brain often?" She hadn't heard about THAT, but she clearly takes it seriously.

"No promises with Baba Y'ga. She reminds me of my dadêsko-dey, my father's mother. Same sort of... no-bullshit attitude. I promise to keep in mind that it could all be a trick, however."

To the question of losing time, she shakes her head a little, "Not... really? I... got a cat, which... is a little weird. I love cats, but having one seems... like I'm putting down roots. Which... I don't do. Friends are good, but... I've never let myself have things I couldn't stand to leave behind if I had to go in a hurry. And pets are a lifetime commitment, to me. You don't just get a cat then abandon it, or give it to someone else. They're your responsibility, forever. Like a kid." she shudders, faintly, at the thought of having children.

"Only the once," Alexander says - but perhaps it's telling that he has to think about it before he answers. "Just...avoid the carousel in the park. If you can." There's a disappointed sigh at her response regarding Baba Yaga, but he just lifts his hands in quiet surrender. The rest is listened to with that same, dark stare. Like he'd reach into her brain and scoop out the answers he wants, if he thought she had them.

"Mmm." A thoughtful noise. "And Ravn didn't put his boat out for the season, as he would usually do. I lost my shoes. McCloud got promoted. That Baxter came back to town. Nothing terribly unusual, but small bits and pieces of people behaving uncharacteristically. In small ways. Maybe it means something." He shrugs. "Maybe it doesn't. If anything comes up that strikes you as weird about what you may have done in the missing time, let me know? Ravn has my number." He turns away. "Don't die, Miss Leontes." And that's the last thing he says before tromping off into the dark evening, walking towards town.

"Likewise. It was a pleasure to meet you, and... thank you, again." Perdita smiles, watching him go for a few moments, before turning her attention back to walking, heading off in the direction of the sausage vendor. They really did smell good, after all, and it's not like she's got any eggs to fling at people's houses... this year.