2021-11-27 - Crashing Ravn's

Isi has looked better than this, but also in recent memory, way worse. She shows up to pound on Ravn's doorway with her hair undone. Her professional look is undone by the fact her pants are splattered in mud and she is panting for breath.

"be home be home be home." Ritual chant go!

Trust two inspections to happen in rapid succession. One is Ravn Abildgaard's scrutiny when he opens the door that is being banged on, and frowns -- a careful look-over by steel grey eyes before he says a word: Alive? Check. First aid kid needed? Stiff drink? He steps aside to let the younger woman in. "You look like you've been abducted by girl scouts and dragged through the woods," he says by means of greeting. "Did they at least sell you those choc mint cookies?"

The second quick inspection is that of a small black cat, and that boils down to: Tuna? No? Fuck you too then.

"No." Thank God Ravn answered. Isi drags herself in and does a small stare down with the cat. "Fuck you too." Then back to Ravn. "I went back to City hall today. I don't feel safe to come home... fuck is it even okay i came here? "

All of her panic run mode is gone now as she realizes that this might not be welcome.

"Eh, you're interrupting my romance with a bottle of whiskey and half a dozen of student essays." Ravn hitches a shoulder, and then pauses to give Isi's mud spattered clothing a second glance. "Do you need shower first? I can make a pot of coffee or find another shotglass meanwhile if you do. Don't think I have clothes your size but track pants are pretty one-size if you don't mind a bad fit. And then you can tell me what happened? Do you need me to call anyone?"

The cat, unsurprisingly, stares right back. Such green eyes, such unbending malevolence. No sacrificial tuna, no love.

Isi's eyes follow Ravn's eyes down to get clothing and she wears under her breath. "The plan was not to run like this, but Emil caught me-" she cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. Another. OKAY.

"If you don't mind? I'll take you up on the offer of pants and a shower. I just.... needed a place to go. Not home."

"Don't use my razor to shave your legs and we're good." Ravn grins slightly and guides Isi towards the bathroom. It's not modern -- neither's the house -- but it's fully functional in that way of everything in this house: The way of appliances belonging to someone who uses the shine to not just repair things but also tell them to stay un-broke. Someone isn't Ravn.

He dips into a cupboard for a couple of towels. "I'll go find a pair of track pants and a shirt and leave outside the door. When you're feeling human, come look me and my whiskey bottle up in the kitchen. Is there anyone you need me to call?"

Glance to cat. "Besides the local fish processing plant. Don't mind Kitty Pryde. She's never quite gotten down from the ego boost that the Veil copied her and her kittens, to create monsters. Her copy babysits her sometimes."

"No, I'm good with no one knowing where I am right now if that is cool? " Isi's nerves need a little reassurance that things are cool. Or a lot of it. It's fine. It's all fine.

The towels are taken and tossed over her casted arm. With that it's likely this won't be a full shower. Just wipe away the 'wtf did i just do' sweat and mud.

The cat gets her misplaced ire, "You shit in a box." Before she disappears into the bathroom.

Ravn can't help laugh as he heads kitchenward. He provides a plate of tuna Kitty food for Kitty -- and tells her, "You've met your match there. Or possibly your soul sister. Either way, please don't leave her in a dumpster."

Then he puts on a pot of coffee and finds another shotglass for the kitchen table. Whiskey's good. Coffee's good. Hell, pity he doesn't have whipped cream and brown sugar at hand -- former bartender apprentice does know how to make a decent Irish coffee at least. He also flicks on the radio, low -- just in case there's a newscast along the lines of Native woman gone missing, shoot-out at city hall, downtown is on fire. You never know.

Thankfully, there isn't anything in the news. The paper and the GHPD got got her evidence before she ran, so that will be a thing there first. Reporters are jerks about sharing their scoops.

It is less time than one might imagine when Isi emerges. Her hair hangs wet down her back as she carries her soiled clothing in one of the towels to keep the mess contained. "Do you have a grocery so or something I can toss these into?" Oops forgot something, "please?"

Cat, ignored.

"Of course." Ravn digs one of those out of a cupboard as well -- a nice white plastic bag with the Safeway logo on. He does look a little amused at the sight of Isi in black track pants and t-shirt, both of which are entirely oversized for her. The socks are one-size adult at least -- and black. "Tell me what went down? Dream? Or, given you said city hall, more trouble? Please tell me no one tried to run you off the road again."

Cat, ignored, reaches out with a paw. Whiskey bottle goes flying off the table. Ignore that, bitches.

The clothes get stuffed into that bag, and she ties it shut quickly. Towels are held up in wordless question of, 'these go where?'

"No. I went back to try to get the evidence I needed. Fucking Emil..." Story time pauses to look at cat. "You are more of a bitch than I remeber." Thank goodness she still has those towels, because if any of it spills she's got something to sop it up with. Take that cat!

Kneeling to go after the whiskey she continues, "he took all of my files and I had to find the originals. Coworkers convered but he found me in the records room."

"Toss 'em at that chair for now, I'll throw 'em in the laundry later." Ravn shoots his cat a look that clearly spells out doom and disaster for felines who waste twelve years Glenfiddich on kitchen floors; fortunately the bottle did not break. He picks it back up and pours himself a shot, leaving it on the table -- easily within reach. "So, I'm guessing we don't need to do the bait and switch we talked about? I want to tell you should be more careful and not go into the lions' den alone but -- you're a big girl, and you obviously survived." He grins a little.

"I was out of vacation days, " Isi replies, pushing herself up and setting the towels where she is told. Then sits, her posture slumped. "I was going to lose my spine if I didn't do it.... and I didn't want to put you guys in danger. Shit is my mistake... I'm pretty sure no one followed me here." By the way. Since that would be where HER head would go.

Ravn glances at the cat; innocence in a little black body. "The last person who bothered her ended up dead in a dumpster. Her kittens literally roam the Veil, hunting the natives. I'm not going to say she can protect us against anything but, this is not the house I'd want to break into unless I carried sufficient bribes for felines."

Another searching look. "Are you all right, all things considered? Any injuries? Any reason to expect more trouble? Should we attempt to get in touch with police, or anyone else?"

Sttaaarrreee... the cat wins, Isi looks away first with a grunt. "At least you aren't useless." She makes sure she is not in scratching range when she says that.

"Yeah, I'm alright. I dropped the copies at the paper and the police department. Then... freaked and came here." Isi goes to pick up the drink she is given only to realize her hands are shaking like wwoooww. Nope, abort! Abort!

"Considering that someone really did try to run you off the road, I don't blame you for freaking out." Ravn sips his whiskey; his cat ignores everything now that her dominance has been established. "Have you managed to piece together what's actually going on? Local contractors and cousin Bob the Murderous doing a bit of cash siphoning and money laundering, or are we will considering mob involvement?"

Deeper calling breaths. Many of them. Since Isi is shaking too badly to drink she cradles her broken arm instead.

"If it was mob it is a group of want-to-bes more than anything else. I don't know all the details, but Emil had changed the figures using my login," serious affront and indignity there, "to make things more pretty, so he had to be getting a kickback. Alexander found that they had purchased the old equipment of a defunct company and that it's the symbol of the truck that hit me... the fuckers are probably going to get away with murder."

"Not if they want to play mob in this town without paying the actual mob it's due," Ravn notes matter-of-factly. "I know a couple of those guys. They don't fuck around when it comes to outsiders elbowing in."

Of course he does. Is there anyone in this town Ravn doesn't know at least to an extent?

"It sounds more like a case of contractors eyeing an opportunity and then panicking when they realised you were on to something. Or they thought you were onto something. Have to appreciate the irony of you getting onto something because they screwed with you. I am thinking that if that guy hadn't tried to run you off, you'd probably have shrugged and moved on -- you told your boss about something irregular, not your problem anymore, right?"

"Basically." Isi replies, hugging her arm even closer. "I gave all my shit to Emil, and he said he would take care of it. Maybe I would have watched the new contracts being awarded more carefully...." But what would she have done even if that had been the case?

"I don't know if I'm going to have a job after this. I stole government documents and accused my boss of cheating on me." See how the shaking is slowly starting to increase in intensity? There is the nice delayed reaction. Full blown panic attack in....

"If I was the one in charge of city hall, I'd keep the employee who spots something irregular -- not the one who tries to bleed town hall for money and kill the whistleblower." Ravn hitches a shoulder again. "But I'm not. All I can say on that is, I also know which accountant I'd hire. I don't know that I can pull strings for you, or I would offer. Pretty sure that if you make press for getting fired for being too damn honest, though, you might find private contracts coming your way. I for one would prefer to know my accountant can be trusted if I ran a company -- or a town."

Keep it together Isi. Keep it together. It is a close thing though. She scrunches in on herself to manage it. "I didn't put my name on the papers. That chief of police will know, but I'm not testifying." Her voice has that flat this-matter-is-settled quality to it. "So it is a wash unless they discover I stole the documents. Bureaucracy is suppose to police itself, not be embarrassed by junior auditors."

"It's not in town's hall interest to make a big fuss about it," Ravn points out sensibly. "If they try to pin you on the theft, all you have to do is tell the Gazette why you stole those documents. 'Town hall covers up corruption scandal' makes a good headline, and they know it."

He fills the other shotglass and nudges it over. High end whiskey may not be the obvious first choice for dealing with anxiety but it's what he's got. "As for de la Vega, I don't think he's going to drag you through court to make a point. That's not how he works. He's very -- solution oriented. And, well, cleaning up an administrative mess at town hall is way under his pay grade. I expect they have routine procedures for this kind of thing, and those contractors are going to get hit with a massive fee and find that other business in the area don't really want to deal with them."

Another searching look. "Though if you do want to get even with the guy who tried to run you off the road, that is an attempted murder, and that probably does require you to testify or appear in court. I won't hold it against you if you're not up for having that forced on you on top of everything else. I do hope that Joe Billy Bob the Road Warrior chokes to death on a putrid raisin before he pulls something like that again, though."

A vehement shake of Isi's head at even the thought of sitting on the stand. Convincing her to do that will take more effort than she is willing to put in to be convinced.

"I hope you people are right about that chief of police, " is what she says, her words copied. "He dropped by for a 'wellness' check at my place and just fuck. If I hadn't just don't that shit at city hall then it would be up there as distinctly scary."

"Probably wanted to sniff out what kind of person you are when you're on your home turf," Ravn suggests earnestly. "De la Vega is not a saint. He's no publicity darling, either; half this town will tell you he's corrupt as hell and the other half thinks he's a sex god. Either way, he's good at what he does -- which is keep things on track somehow, in spite of all the shit the Veil throws at us. I doubt he wants to spend more time on this either -- from where he's sitting, it's probably just -- blah blah, people fucking with town hall, town hall fucking with people, what's new. You get some strange perspective on those things when it's not unusual to find yourself fighting Aztec gods or turning into shark people, you know?"

He sips his coffee, black as sin and about as flavour full (too strong cheap instant coffee is a flavour, if not a good one). "The murder attempt is the big deal in this. But if you don't want to testify, then I am not going to pressure you about it. I read newspapers. I do know that being First Nations in a courtroom is often a rather overrated process."

Isi's eyebrows are drawn together in a scowl that her mama probably warned her not to make or her face would stick like that. She isn't focused on Ravn's face, but a point just above his head and beyond.

What she says isn't at all seemingly in response to what he said, but somewhere in her synapses it was clear. "I don't want to be this fucking helpless again. Or so easy to find. Both Alexander and thr Chief found my place. Alexander fucking felt I was hurt."

"You live in Gray Harbor now," Ravn points out. "The usual rules don't apply. The people with mind powers? They do stuff like that, and it's natural to them -- they can't not do it. Even when they try, they slip. It takes getting used to."

The Dane glances at the window a moment and then looks back at Isi. "I used to live alone. And by alone I mean, me, myself, and no one. My fixed address, a post box in Copenhagen. Never stayed more than a few nights in any given town. Didn't tell anyone my name, rarely talked to anyone. Played my violin in the parks and bus stops for travel fare, carried everything I owned, never stayed still. Getting used to how this town works is hard. But you have to remember -- there are eighteen thousand people in Gray Harbor, and the rules haven't changed for more than maybe, what, fifty? A hundred? Strong mentalists like de la Vega and Clayton, sure -- they pick up on shit. Everyone else still has to do it the hard way."

He cants his head. "Are you running from someone on the outside? You don't have to tell me. Just consider this -- Gray Harbor exists in its own little bubble. News from here don't make it out. No one notices all the weird. That also means that except for those fifty, hundred people with powers, this town is the best place on the planet to lie low. Once you settle here? You're as good as dead to the rest of the world. I find this useful."

The shiver that runs though Isi's bossy has nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the mentalists not being able to help it. "I should have guessed he was like Alexander." That is muttered more to herself than Ravn particularly.

An Isi closes her eyes and breathes in a slow and predictable manner, working on bringing her heartbeat back to a more normal rate and pushing back against the emotional reaction that comes now that she is safe. Calm.

"No, I'm not running from anyone." There is a but there, but Isi doesn't say exactly what the but is. "I don't want to rely on anyone - but this place seems to make it impossible to not. I should have passed out and died trying to come back to town, but someone saved my ass. Even now, " her good arm gestures, "I'm wearing your clothes and in your house and your coffee. I'm grateful- thank you, " so stuck to say, "but there is no way to pay any of you back." Sorry Ravn, Isi apparently forgot he is a folklore expert, not a therapist. She will remeber eventually.

"You have figured how to tell if people have these powers, yes?" Ravn shoots Isi an inquisitive look. "Whether you see people sparkle like teenage vampires, or they feel warm, or you hear music -- whatever form it takes. To me, it's a pull, like I should be closer to this person. Either way, it's a safe bet to assume that if they have it, they're strong. The movers can do amazing things. The healers, more so. Some throw fireballs, some command plants. And the mind people read emotions and the history of objects. Most are -- quite gifted. And then there's a few like me who don't really do anything spectacular but we still have enough of this power to not get our memory edited regularly, at least."

He may not be a therapist but he's been here for more than a year, and in some ways, Isi and Ravn have a lot in common -- among other things, that fierce need to stay independent.

A need which the Dane is working on taming, at least in himself. "You're wrong, though, about paying back. Some day some other sucker is going to stroll into town and someone's going to have to stop him or her from walking right into Cthulhu's maw. That someone might be you. Town like this, we have to have each other's backs. That's why I trust de la Vega and not the police force in general. Most coppers? They're like cops anywhere, some are good, some are bad, a lot are bad. But the ones who shine, I trust them to do what's best for everyone's long term survival."

Isi spends a blissful moment thinking about ignorance but... a shake of her head. world. "Not knowing would be worse. No wonder Cassidy is a bit of a bitch. Pretty, but."

Isi lets her arms drop down having calmed enough to try to pick up that instant coffee - "God you know this is awful, right?" She sips it anyway.

"I still am not convinced he isn't corrupt as hell." Isi replies about de la Vega. "But if he takes care of it then... I'll not flip him thr burd next time I see him. " And flipping thr topic since Isi apparently decides when she will react to stuff, "Paying it forward is a pretty shitty form of repayment."

"Not in this town it isn't. If no one'd warned me what this place was like I wouldn't have lived a week." Ravn keeps it matter-of-factly; this is just how it is. "My first weird experience? Nothing supernatural about it -- went into the local church to see it, got caught in crossfire when a couple of mobsters tried to take out August Roen. I have no idea why -- never got around to asking because the instant I stepped out of the church after, I found myself running from the Headless Horseman. And frankly -- if no one had given me the Speech previously, I'd have been so lost and confused I'd probably just have stood there and let him catch me. So, at least for me, someone else paying it forward saved my life. The Chief is far from sparkly clean, but he's got his motivations in the right place, and that's what matters to me. That, and he's not a racist dick at least."

He likes his coffee just the way it is, thanks. Could probably dye wool with it. Tastes like someone tried.

Then he laughs, softly. "You're right, though. Cassidy Bennet is a bitch, she gets off on it. And oh so firmly convinced that I am wildly in lust with her -- I think she likes the idea of me being sad at her rejections. But what the hell, if that brightens her day, no harm done to me."

"I would appreciate it more if she was lesbian." Something breaks though with that and a smile cracks her lips. "I'm becoming increasingly amused that the girls I find interesting are either not interested or have something preventing them." This is easier to talk about than the serious stuff.

But the conversation kind of begs a return to serious. So she drags her finger along the edge of the mug. "I don't know if I will ever trust them. Back home it was just universal that the uniform was bad. Didn't help we didn't know who had fucking authority and who didn't. By the time jurisdiction was figured out everything was ruined anyway."

"Hey, almost every woman I know is either gay or already in a relationship." Ravn can't help a chuckle. "And while I wouldn't say never on a gay experience of my own -- hey, they're in relationships too. Life's just hard, eh?"

Amusement fades from grey eyes, though, as he adds fresh hot water to his own mug -- and gestures a similar offer to Isi's. "I hear you loud and clear on the cops issue. I've got a bit of a mixed perspective there myself. I'm a privileged white kid -- the cops are our friends, they enforce the status quo. But I've also lived on the road with tramps and Romas, and the fuzz sure as hell is not your friend when they kick your ass and run you out of town for loitering."

Siggghhhhhhhhhhh. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

"Never been run out of town. Just evicted. A lot. Neither of my parents ever were able to hold down jobs - it's post of why I'm so loath to cut out on this one. What if I don't get another?" No, better to deal with the monsters.

She doesn't look up at him as she asks carefully, "if I wanted to practice.... stuff, is there a good place? "

"Anywhere you're not alone. Preferably somewhere with someone who can give you some pointers." Ravn smiles, a little apologetically. "I can help you on the first account but not so much on the second -- unless you want to learn how to shuffle cards or steal a hazelnut without touching them. I mean, those are useful skills but perhaps not quite what you're looking for. August Roen is a good man to ask -- and I'm sure the whole bloody town already told you that. Do you have any kind of idea what it is you can do? Rosencrantz is our number one mover but he's not the only guy who can do things like that. For healing, Roen, Kinney, couple of others. Fireballs? Kailey Holt, Kinney. I suspect, really, it's not so important who you talk to as that you talk to someone who can do the same kind of things you can do."

'Rely on other people's- not the answer that Isi was looking for thanks. Isi wrinkles her nose again and divide the coffee. Chances are she is going to do neither of those things. Ask for pointers, or do things where other people are.

She won't be disrespectful enough to say it aloud though.

"Thanks. I'll consider it. " She won't. But polite!

"No, you won't." Ravn laughs at her quietly over the rim of his coffee mug. "So, the thing about grifters like me? We get pretty good at reading people. And I am reading you loud and clear -- so all I'm going to add is, avoid the hell out of the old lumber mill when you go off to the woods to do things. Firefly Forest is pretty haunted too but that goes for all this town. The lumber mill is particularly haunted, though, and a lot of the entities there are not very friendly."

"If I had a coin for every time someone told be not to go for the lumber mill...." Isi grumbles then surprises herself by yawning in the middle of it. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "Sorry - you aren't boring."

"Yeah, I know. I went, too. It got ugly." Ravn nods. "You want to borrow a sofa here for a day or three? Yes, we have one. For that very purpose. You'll have to share a room with a bazillion books but apparently half the purpose of this house is so that we can offer people a place to crash for a bit. I don't know how you feel about it, but I'd feel safer -- just until Joe Billy Bob the Road Warrior has been dealt with. I promise, I don't cook, you might survive."

"Yes - if it isn't too much to ask," Isi replies, and they can talk about nice normal things for a bit. Like sofas and books.