2021-12-02 - Buffalo Wings

Addington Park. A quiet, serene small town park, named after one or other of the various members of the town's leading family over time. It's got a carousel and a black peacock, a gazebo, and some quite pleasant open areas that are home to sunbathers, playing children, picnics, and other social outings during the warmer months. Now, they are mostly quiet -- it is too cold and wet to sit in the grass, after all.

Lawns are supposed to be smooth. They're not supposed to look like somebody decided to host a rodeo on them -- with horses, monster trucks, and, according to the Gazette's up and coming star reporter, Alice Hampton, escaped buffaloes from the nearby zoo.

Most of Gray Harbor buys the story. Ravn Abildgaard does not. He wanders the gravel path, looking at those deep tears in the grass and the giant almost sinkhole where something very heavy must have crashed down, and frowns. Buffaloes, his pale white ass.

Curiousity killed the cat...

And satisfaction bought it back, and so here is Tanasha, her backpack slung on the ground next to her, perched on a gazebo's steps, studying the lawn. The laptop is on her bent knees, and she glances between the tears and the sinkhole, and her laptop. Her forehead is creased, drawing together her eyebrows, her lips twisted, concentration written in every line. As Ravn approaches, she speaks without looking at him, "There is no history of sinkholes in this area, and there are not signs like this, but buffaloes? Really?"

The Dane comes to a halt next to the seated woman. He dips into a pocket in his wind breaker for a cigarette and lights it -- there are perks to being outdoors. He looks at the tyre marks on the grass; and at the giant paw prints that were obviously left by a giant reptile.

"I'm not sure the zoo even had buffaloes," he agrees. "And those claw marks are identical to the ones on what remained of the high school roof after Storm Cimaron. Which means that the damned dragon came back, somehow -- but I can't explain why it looks like someone had a Nascar rally, or where the buffaloes came into it. Did I mention you're never really bored in this town?"

She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing, "I like boredom." The statement is flat and she twists her lips again, "Dragons, really? Maybe it bought a herd of buffaloes for a light snack." Almost mocking but there is the hint of a slight hysteria to it, the sound of someone who is not having a good time with the change in reality. "I assume someone here has magic dragon banishing skills." Sarcasm, the home of discomfort.

Ravn settles on the gazebo step next to her, making certain to pick the side that allows the smoke from his cigarette to waft away from present company rather than into Tanasha's face. "Well, sort of. I was there when the thing hit the high school. Kailey Holt opened some kind of portal and she and Aidan Kinney more or less puppy shamed the thing into fleeing through it. But from the looks of this lawn, I'm going to venture that it came back, somehow. And was probably still pissed off, too."

He shakes his head. "Dreams are usually more subtle than this. They don't affect the waking world quite so much. Storm Cimaron was an epic clusterfuck, as a hurricane and as a supernatural storm alike. Really hope we get some quiet time now -- or at that at least the weird is contained in dreams."

Tanasha makes a couple of clicks before closing the lid on the laptop, resting her folded arms on it, her expression thoughtful. "Dragons." The murmur is soft, and she shakes her head, the curls bobbing. "So if I was a dragon and trapped here... I'd be pretty pissed off. Where did it come from? Where would you want to be?" Her face is thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Dreams too, huh?"

Ravn shakes his head. "No one knows. It turned up during the hurricane. A polycule of sidhe witches kept it at bay for a while in return for shelter, but once the storm calmed and they left -- anyway, I sound like a crazy person, and that's Gray Harbor in a nutshell. Wherever the dragon is now, I hope it's happy and wants to stay there."

He stretches long legs. "So, escaped buffalo adventures aside, how are you?"

"Maybe we should ask it." Her voice is light, her eyes twinkling, and she shoots him a quick smile, one that turns on and then off again. "You always sound like a crazy person. I mean, I guess I would if I tried to explain." She nods towards the grass, "I don't think it is happy there."

She pushes the laptop into her bag, carefully folding the lid down. "Settling, just finding some ...oddities. I'll chase it down, find out what it is." She shrugs, slanting him a look, "You?"

"Need to convince the granddaughter of the little old lady across the street that we are not dating. Need to convince the little old lady across the street that Aidan Kinney and I are a not a couple. Delightful mundane problems, for what it's worth. Even a little funny. I don't usually have to fend off women with a proverbial stick." Ravn grins slightly. "What kind of oddities are we talking about? Code, or something else? There was a case at town hall earlier this month, apparently -- friend of mine got in a bit of trouble, finding oddities on a company account."

"Sounds like you are dating half the town... " The murmur is soft, and her eyebrows arches, mocking him slightly, "Maybe you should stop fending them off and just go for it." She hesitates, considering her options before she shakes her head again, curls bobbing, "I don't know, there is something odd about my records from the time that... you know..."

"I'm not even sure where I stand with the one woman I am interested in," Ravn says with a short laugh. "We've certainly not managed to go on even a single date in six months, so maybe I'm not quite the town Casanova. Tell me about your records. This is Gray Harbor -- don't ever let yourself overrule your gut feeling, it's almost always right. If something is niggling at you, look at it. You're only going to be upset with yourself later on for ignoring what was clearly yourself knowing better if you don't."

Her quick grin appears, flashing white teeth at him, "I don't date." There is a firm note there, a decision made and stuck to. "Just I'm organised, and I can't find a few things I would have for the house. " She shrugs, wrinkling her nose, pulling a face, "Could just be that paperwork hasn't arrived yet. I'll follow the trail..."

"I used to say that, and then a lady informed me that yes, actually, I do." Ravn cants his head. "Although to be fair, we never actually did go on a date, so I suppose I still get to say that."

He nods and puts the cigarette out, pocketing the stub for later disposal. "Could be. Let's assume not. Again, Gray Harbor -- call it gut feeling, but every time someone in this town has mumbled something about something being not quite right, it always has turned to be very wrong. What are you missing, do you know? Deed? Sales agreement? Tax forms?"

Her grin appears, a flash of white teeth again before she replies lightly, "I'll keep poking but there is no reason to talk about it until I find out something." Logic, and that door slams closed, with a smile. "So, dragons then. What do we do about those?" She leans back, resting her elbows on the decking there, tilting her head back to look up at the sky as if checking.

"Well, so far I've seen bargaining with sidhe witches to protect us from it, but the witches left when the storm was over. I've seen smacking its nose and shaming it like a puppy that peed on the carpet, until it fled into another dimension. And now I have seen -- whatever it is we are looking at here. At a guess? Somebody fought it off. I mean, I think we'd notice if a sixteen ton carcass was still lying here? Imagine even at this time of year, that'd start to smell." Ravn shrugs lightly; Gray Harbor, you do you.

The folklorist's steel grey gaze glides over Tanasha, searchingly. It's not the kind of gaze that measures or evaluates looks; more, defensive capabilities, maybe. "You're right, it's not my place to pry into your personal affairs. I am concerned because presently, you work for me. Given what I do, that can be dangerous. I've made friends and enemies alike on the Other Side, and I've seen more friends on this side end up in the ICU than I care for."

She tilts her head back, studying the sky, her face thoughtful. "Well, maybe we can do something." Her voice is thoughtful, her brown eyes narrowing slightly, her lips twisting. "Are there books? Do you think there are other places like this? We could form an alliance..." Another twist of her lips, amusement at her own comments, as she moves on.

Her eyebrows arch at that look, her brown eyes direct as she returns it. "It isn't, and I only work a little for you. I do a lot of work." She shrugs again, adding lightly, "So far, I don't have enemies, as far as I know. A blank slate."

Ravn glances away a moment, and for some reason his blue-grey gaze lingers on the carousel, said to be haunted -- more than said, he's bloody well seen and talked to its ghosts, several times. "There are other places," the folklorist says after a moment. "Surprisingly many of them, as it happens. But to the best of my knowledge, this is the place where the Veil is thinnest. I grew up in one such place, but it was nothing like this. We didn't have monsters crossing over, or dragons, or strange disappearances." Pause. "Well, we did have a few strange disappearances. But young men should really know better than to follow ghostly ladies into cemeteries at night."

Something in the woman's words give Ravn pause, though, and he looks back to her, sharply. "You don't have enemies, this may be true. But you have farmers. You are here, you are part of the crop. They will try to feed on your misery and suffering, now or later. That is the crop I try to sour for them, not that I'm sure they've really noticed yet."

"Maybe we should form an alliance with the residents there." She waves a hand in an arc through the air above her head, "I see it now. We could call it...skynet." The corner of her mouth twitches, before she sobers. "Young men get what is coming to them. I mean, going into cemeteries like that? Asking for it. What ghostly lady could resist." There is something slightly hysterical in her tone.

"I'll do my best to not be miserable or suffer then."

Ravn cracks a smile at the Skynet quip; how could he not. The thought crosses his mind that really, if Skynet becomes real and finds out about the dolorphages, it will be because the latter are turning up to shut it off and save mankind. Not out of compassion or generosity but because robots don't get to fuck with the harvest.

He reaches for another cigarette. What he really wants is a whiskey but the gazebo is sadly deprived of a bar. "Wish I could be -- you know, welcome to Gray Harbor, the salmon fishing is great, we have whale safaris in summer, don't miss out on Mrs Jankowski's pear crumble. Being the bearer of bad news kind of bites."

"Maybe, if you want that, you need to change towns." Her voice is quieter, the lift of the corners of her mouth entirely lacking in humour. She sits up resting her elbows on her bent knees, tilting her head to study him in silence for a moment. "Look, you didn't bring me here. You didn't cause my ...powers, whatever. You won't be making my choices for me. You aren't responsible for anything."

"Oh, no, I'm not." Ravn lights the cigarette with a battered old zippo -- silver and bearing some kind of old-fashioned coat-of-arms. "But it's a hell of a lot more fun to make new friends by telling them something good. I don't know what to say to make Gray Harbor sound good, though. I love it here. I am exactly where I want to be. To me, this town is a blessing. But I think I'm pretty much the only person I've met who feels that way. I see things to explore, challenges to overcome, things to fight back against, a community to be part of. And a lot of people tell me in turn that they see me not lasting a decade here."

She considers his words, tilting her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know. Who has lasted the longest here?" The question is soft, the woman speaking softly. "Maybe that we should follow their way of life, see how that goes." She reaches into her backpack, grabbing a water bottle out to take a swig, "So what now. We track a dragon?"

"August Roen or Granny Leigh might be good people to talk to. I don't know what Leigh would say, but Roen? It's a fucked up town, we just try to be decent folks." Ravn nods; he likes both but he knows the botanist best.

Then he looks at the indent in the lawn, still sporting a massive hole, tyre tracks, and dead shrubberies as if half a forest grew and then died there in very short time. And back to Tanasha. "There's the kicker. How the fuck do you track a dragon? I know there are people who can open doors into the Veil, but I am definitely not one of them. And I'm not sure they have a whole lot of control over where they actually go."

"That seems like a good enough guiding star. Be decent folks." She considers, her eyes narrowing at the tracks, "Dogs? I just blow stuff up. Maybe we should find some others and see if they can't help us. Stronger together and all that." She pushes the drink back into the bag, adding lightly, "Grey Harbour collective. Like Scooby Doo." That quick flicker of dark humour gleams in her eyes, curving her lips.

"That's pretty much what HOPE is," the Dane returns, grey eyes sparking in a not dissimilar fashion. "Teaming up, fighting back. These assholes feed on suffering? Kindness is anathema to them. I'll be a boy scout if it makes us taste like crap. The more we talk to each other, pool our efforts and look out for each other, the better. In this town, it's not buying yourself a bit of good conscience by donating to the less privileged. It's getting together in self defence."

She grins at him, reaching for her bag. "Right then, let's go and do that. Let's go talk to some people." She rises to her feet, lifting her eyebrows at him, her lips curved into a grin. "Come on, boy scout."