2021-11-14 - The Saddest Zoo in Washington

Gray Harbor's Zoo isn't...really a zoo. There are a few animals, sure, but it's basically a few cages along a few paths. The only real exception to this is the white peacock, who believes that he is the best thing ever...and has a tendency to escape his cage. As he has done now. He struts along through the drizzling rain shortly before the Zoo is set to close, while a couple of zookeepers (okay, actually college kids who are paid criminally small wages) try to track him down and herd him back into his enclosure.

It's not hard to imagine the bird laughing as it leads them a merry chase. Alexander is sitting on a bench, watching the chase with a morose sort of expression, his phone in his hands. He is wearing different awful clothes, at least: a bright purple sweater with awful embroidery, old blue jeans, and that old army jacket. The rain has flattened his hair against his head, and the few families who are gathering up to leave give him a notable distance.

Until Isi caught sight of the white peacock who is queening up this place, Isi's face was fix as a frown as she wandered between the cages. Her hands are stuffed deep into her pockets to ward off the wet. The peacock though - that makes her smile. "/That// is how animals should be." She is talking to herself - it's not weird at all.

A turn towards the exit has her catching sight of Alexander - he's hard to miss in THAT getup - and keeps turning to walk towards him.

"Who did you murder and take their clothes?"

The peacock has an impeccable sense for when he is being admired. At her words, it turns and suddenly displays its tail, that glorious display of stark, white feathered glory. One of the college students takes this opportunity to lunge -- and suddenly, the peacock is more like the Road Runner, zipping off down a nearby path. One could almost swear that it's chortling.

Alexander's gaze follows the chase, only acknowledging Isi once she's up close enough to talk. He gives her a flat, black-eyed look. "If I were going to murder someone, keeping their clothes would be stupid. It's the worst sort of trophy. Serial killers who take clothing or jewelry as trophies are almost always caught. Tangible evidence linking them to the crime, often still tainted with DNA evidence, and easily recognizable by those close to the victim. Stupid." There's a pause. "I shop at thrift stores."

Isi lifts her fingers to her lips and whistles encouragingly at the white animal. If Alexander wasn't right here to poke at, she'd probably cheer the creature on.

But Alexander is here and his lack of reaction and diatribe on murder makes her snort. "They're murdering people. I'm betting they already had a few screws missing in the makeup of the intelligence drawer. " That bit about thrift stores has her shaking her head slowly. "You can get shit that matches there. You just have to try. "

The peacock continues to lead the two staff on a merry chase. Some of the little kids, behind shepherded towards the exit, do cheer it on, and it seems to enjoy the attention. He pauses on a hill to give a young boy a flirtatious flash of tail, before having to run away again from his pursuers.

Alexander, for his part, lifts his hand to make the 'so-so' gesture. "Media is wrong when it portrays serial killers in the upper echelons of intelligence. It's actually a fairly normal distribution, but less intelligent killers usually get caught faster. Although stranger murders are, by their nature, difficult to solve, even when committed by an idiot." He says it all deadpan, while watching her. "That's not why I buy what I buy," he says, after a moment. Then, "Why are you in Gray Harbor?"

Most of Isi's attention is on Alexander, but she shifts slightly to keep the peacock in sight as it does its path of mayhem. She can't help it - every time the creature slips through someone's fingers a grin tugs on the corner of her mouth.

"Super reassuring there - murders are stupid. Then again, if you get killed by a stupid person you're still dead, so it doesn't matter much." His abrupt question has her blinking once and out of pure stubbornness, "What the fuck is that to you?"

"Murders aren't always stupid. There are some very clever ones, actually." Here, Alexander's voice goes a little wistful, as if he'd like to see more of those. Or just meet the ones who committed them. He doesn't seem to get angry at her question, just says, like it should be obvious. "You stand out. Not much. But a lot of people who stand out come because they feel like they're called by the town. It's a carnivorous plant, in that regards. A pitcher plant. Lures you in, then keeps you until you drown."

He's a cheerful and reassuring guy. The peacock has finally been hemmed in against a corner of wrought iron railing, and the two staff members are stalking it carefully, arms spread.

Well, the insinuation of admiring a murderer is pretty clear so Isi's just gonna take a step back. Maybe two. Put the arm of the bench between them. That's better.

"You mean that sparkle thing? But no- I've got debt, Gray Harbor had a job..." And that's when she sees the peacock being cornered and calls out, "Hey ! Leave it alone!" And then more under her breath, "You don't trap a fucking spirit - that's stupid."

"Student debt, or the sort of debt where people show up with large clubs if you don't make the payments on time?" Alexander only sounds like he cares a little, more curiosity than concern. But when her attention wanders to the bird, his gaze slips in that direction. She might be able to feel it, the stir of power around him, something crackling and charged. Even if she can't, its rather notable that the two staff suddenly lunge at each other, yelling not to let it escape, while the bird watches with avian bewilderment from a good three feet away. After a moment, it prances by them as they wrestle with...the air, apparently.

The two abruptly stop, look down at their empty hands, around until they see the peacock again. The chase resumes, albeit with a bit more confusion. "He's not really trying to escape," Alexander points out to her, conversationally. "He likes living here, getting fed, courting the black peahen, getting praised by all the humans. He just also likes making them chase him."

"Does it really matter? If you don't pay it back you're up a shit creek without a paddle regardless. Mostly stu...." That tailing off is when that feeling at the edge of her consciousness happens and the bird is no longer trapped. She doesn't speak for a bit until the people have untangled themselves and it starts up again.

Her attention is heavily divided at this point between the spirit and Alexander. It's with that distraction that she says, "This place has made me reconsider if my people's beliefs have some basis in fact instead of just fiction. White animals are holy - even if he likes it he shouldn't be trapped. It's... profane."

"There are different consistencies of shit. None are fun, but the odor and ability to wash your clothes afterwards differs," Alexander points out. The two are managing to herd the peacock back towards his enclosure now, and he seems fairly content to go, his tail flashing up and out on occasion as if to proclaim victory. Alexander glances at it, then back at her. "Someone like Ravn would tell you that they do. That the other side of the Veil is the inspiration for those stories, and that beings over there may exist that choose to embody the form and function of a trickster Coyote or whatever. Whether that means that your stories were truth, drawn from those beings - or your stories are fiction, but inspired those beings is probably up to you to decide."

"Shit is shit." Isi returns, not taking to the distinctions that Alexander is applying to the situation. She shakes her head as the Peacock makes its way into it's home. It clearly still doesn't sit well with her. Firmly she turns her back on it and looks full on at Alexander.

"You're one of the people here who just accepts all of this as just the way life is - aren't you?"

"There are nuances to any situation," Alexander mutters, but at least he doesn't pursue the argument any further. Instead, he watches her. The question has his eyebrow going up. "Depends on what you mean by accept. It's the way life is here, if you stand out. Sometimes if you don't, but a lot of those people die the first time they get Lost. You have to be prepared for that. Or you leave. Leaving is the better choice."

Isi seems prepared to argue the point to the bitter end, but he ruins it by dropping it. She huffs out air through her nose and reaches up to brush water from her hood to prevent it from dripping into her face.

"Lost?" Isi says the word the same way he does, with the emphasis on the first sound. Capital L there. "No but like - every other person seems to feel they have to be some kind of super hero. Moving shit with their mind," yes, her eyes flick towards where the white peacock was transported, "Fireballs, telling dragons to go home like they were their mama. Do you people ever pause and go, 'this is insane'?" Even as she asks the question she shakes her head to indicate it's rhetorical in nature. "Ravn keeps saying that. Deal or leave. Where's the nuance in that?"

Alexander doesn't have a hood. Water drips down the sides of his face, and off the end of his nose. He seems resigned to it. "Lost." His brow furrows. "It's--the moment you realize that you're not in the real world anymore. When suddenly the trees grow faces, or someone you thought was your friend tries to feed you into a wood chipper. Most people call them Dreams, too. But for me, it's like getting lost: one moment, you know what the world, and the next, the world could be anything at all." A pause. "Mostly bad things."

He suddenly smiles at her, and it's a bright, sunny and uncomplicated smile of amusement that transforms his whole face. The expression disappears in the next moment, though. "I have paused many times and gone this is insane, Ms. Cameron. But it doesn't change anything. And what you don't accept can still hurt you, torture you, or kill you. So, the nuance is in how you deal, or whether you leave." He shrugs. "People deal with it in different ways. A lot of people in town who stand out try to avoid the shit, as much as they can. Pretend they don't see it. Some people end up under the Boardwalk, usually because they have abilities like mine, and those abilities are too strong to be ignored, but they never learned how to control them or work past what gets shoved in their mind."

".... how the fuck do you know my last name?" Yes, out of all of that response, that is what her brain grasps into. "Are you done creepy stalker? And what is your obsession with names anyway?"

Alexander sighs. "I am an investigator," he points out, sounding a bit grumpy. "You gave your card to that girl, and it had your position on it. You're on the City Hall webpage. Public employee." He explains all of this slowly, like he's speaking to a not very bright child. "And names are important. They--they--" he bites off whatever he was going to say and makes an exasperated noise. "It doesn't matter. You wouldn't understand."

He notably doesn't seem bothered by creepy stalker.

On the other hand Isi is quite offended at the way he delivers the way he discovers her full name, and when he says she wouldn't understand. Her hands come to her hips and her stance widens a few inches. "You are an arrogant asshole."

"Try me."

"Yes," Alexander says, with a shrug. "I'm good at what I do. And you haven't been nice to me, so why the fuck should I be nice to you?"

Still, he studies that hands-on-hips stance. And he's almost constitutionally incapable of not answering questions with when asked, so after a token stubborn resistance, his shoulders hunch and he looks at his tattered sneakers. "Names are important. They represent identity. You can think of it as a Jungian archetype thing if you want, but that's not really what I mean, although it's closer than some other psychological constructs. A name is the thing, and you only really have one. When you mutilate that name, when you tear it apart, or shroud it, then you're weakening it. You're weakening everything you are until you're something entirely different. And maybe that thing is a better thing, but it's not you, anymore. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that you are always you, but you're not the original you, and when you lose that, you can't ever really get it back. But people are so careless with their names. So casual. Like they don't fucking matter, but they do, and I don't want--"

His teeth click shut, stopping himself there. Resigned, he says, "So. Go ahead and make fun of it. Or tell me that I'm wrong and it's stupid. Get it out your system."

"Maybe don't act like a homeless creeper and dress like a crazy person and you would get a better reception." Isi snaps back, not taking an iota of ownership over how badly they got off on the wrong foot.

She does listen though, eyes narrowed as he explains. The answer doesn't come right away. Her stance shifts and get arms cross. Abruptly, "Spilyáy. That is what my people call 'coyote.' When the white men came they took his name and called him something else. Now he is just a trickster." Her toe taps once and she looks away. "I can buy that much." Grudgingly willing to give him some point.

"I've gotten this reception pretty much all my life," Alexander says, with a shrug. "Different clothes just mean that it takes a little longer to set in. I'd rather get it out of the way in the beginning. Before any of us waste our times." His jaw clenches, bracing himself as he continues to look down at the ground. Her response is clearly not what he expects. His head comes up, and he stares at her, penetrating and (yes) creepy. Like he'd like to crack open her skull and find the answers to his questions there. But his voice is actually rather gentle, even hesitant, as he says, "Spilyáy. That's a good name. I'm sorry it was taken from him, and your people."

He looks away, again, frowning at the avian cages. The birds don't deserve it -- but luckily, they also don't seem to care.

"That doesn't make any sense - the clothing." Isi isn't willing to give all ground to him.

His creeper stare gets meet, even if it does send a chill down her back. Her hands grasp her crossed arms tightly the knickers turning a lighter shade despite her naturally browned skin would allow. "You didn't do it. Take shit. That lays on someone else's head."

A deep breath gets pulled in - it gets easier when he looks away despite his scowl. "What?"

There's a sudden rusty bark of laughter. "You listen to names and that you can buy, but my philosophy on clothing is a bridge too fucking far? You're weird, Ms. Cameron." He waves a dismissive hand at you didn't do it. "Some guilt can be transitive. Your people got fucked by my people -- assuming that my people aren't actually horrible dimensional invaders from another reality. Which I don't actually rule out, but even then, they were probably fucking over someone in their home dimension, so there's enough guilt to go around."

He stands up, then, abruptly. Instead of answering the what, he says, "Don't die. Remember to stay with people, don't go into the woods alone. Or at all, if you can help it. And don't ride the carousel. Ever. But especially on Tuesdays." Then he just leaves, slouching his way towards the exit of the zoo, his head bowed so that the rain doesn't hit him direct in the face, shoulders slouched.

"... call me fucking weird... put calling the fucking kettle black." There is quite a bit more muttering from Isi as Alexander stalks away. "I'm not going to stay away from the woods - they are the other reason I fucking moved here." She goes the other way - not wanting to run into him if the pathway should narrow. There is more muttering along the way.