2021-12-28 - Coping Strategies

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : I don't think i can do this any more.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : This was a rough one. 😕

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : None of it- all of it.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : What are you going to do? You know I'll support you if you want to leave the town. There's a reason we keep telling people to do it. But very few ever do, you also know that. Is there any way we can help?

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : I don't have anywhere to go if I do leave.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : Story of why most of us stay. So how do we help?

(TXT to Isi Ravn) Perdita : If you decide to leave, I can try to help you out. I've got a friend in Texas if you wanted a change of scenery, they could help you get set up, if I asked nice enough, but I know trusting strangers isn't your thing.

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : Can I meet you somewhere to talk? I don't want to be alone right now.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : We could come over to your place for privacy -- both Perdita and I have roomies. Could bring something to eat and a bottle of wine, because I am honestly not great after that little trip either.

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : Drinking in the morning. Yeah, that checks.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : Checks as much as having to deal emotionally with your family being Nazi collaborators.

(TXT to Isi Ravn) Perdita : You can both come over here if you want. Garrett won't be up for a couple hours, I have a fire pit, we can sit out under the stars and ponder burning the city to the ground.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : That works too. Just tell me which. I've raided the cupboard, don't look at me weird if we're drinking single malt whiskey and eating Oreos.

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Isi : I'm bringing my pillow but I'm down. See you there.

(TXT to Isi Ravn) Perdita : See you soon.

Isi arrives promptly. Walking, because her car is still a mangled mess that is probably in a junk yard if the PD has any kind of efficiency. She is a far cry from the person who envied Dita's clothes seriously not that long ago. Jeans with holes and a sweater that has seen better days are her clothing of choice. Her hair is up in a severe pony tail that does nothing for her.

Also she has a small round pillow. Security anyone?

It doesn't take all that long for Ravn to toss a bottle of Laphroaigh Single Malt into his duffel bag along with a couple of packets of Oreos -- which is the contents of his emergency stash, and anyone who has an issue is welcome to go do some better shopping. He drives carefully enough but the trip to the Bauer Building is short.

He arrives soon enough to greet Isi on the staircase; and if he looks a little paler and tireder than usual, well, maybe he's not impervious to dream trauma either.

Waiting just inside the doorway of the Bauer Building is Perdita, dressed in an oversize men's band shirt, a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a heavy jacket over it. As she spots her friends arriving, she unlocks the inner door and gestures for them to come on in, leading the way up with a certain tired heaviness.

"Let's drink until we forget everything."

"I feel like I've tried this recently. Keep it up and I might end up confirming the drunk Indian trope to some racists." Isi is bitter, this is fine.

This isn't going to stop her from accepting all decks given.

"Going to give you some fierce competition in my capacity of member of the nation with the highest alcohol intake per persona," Ravn murmurs. "I didn't learn anything tonight I didn't know. But there's knowing, and there's seeing it with your own damn eyes. Ugh."

"I don't even drink normally, but... I feel like today? We have a perfectly valid reason. Fuck tropes. I have left over marshmallows from Christmas food. Let's roast marshmallows, too." Because drunk people and fire sound like a great combination, Perdita.

This is a fantastic way of doing things. Once it is all broken out Isi is loath to start the conversation though and sits and roasts a marshmallow to death. Fire is good.

The proper thing to do with ten year single malt is not to drink it from paper cups or passing the bottle around, whatever's easier. Ravn doesn't care much. He needs a stiff drink, and he's getting one. The marshmallows and oreos can go to people who need them.

"This time, they really found a way to get under our skin," he observes after a while. "Most dreams, I manage to just -- get through, move on. This one? This is personal. And it looked like it got pretty damn personal for you two, too. I suppose I should be glad the two of you will even share a bloody room's worth of air with someone whose family profited quite well off the Nazis."

"I lost family in the Pharrajimos." Perdita says softly, "My great grandparents survived a lot of close calls." Dita's got actual glasses, so that nobody has to drink from paper cups at least, and blankets in the lawn chairs. The firepit is roaring bright, pushing back the cold and the dark. "It was pretty damn personal." she admits, hugging her blanket close. She hasn't had a drink yet, but she's... making a sort of s'more between two Oreos, because calories. "We're going to be okay. Whatever it throws at us, I won't let anything happen to either of you."

"If I didn't associate with people born from fucking ethnic cleansers I wouldn't be able to leave the house on the Rez." Isi replies, pulling her legs against her chest and staring at the fire.

"I almost wish? That my great-grands were Nazis. Then I could despise them, even hate them, but still respect them -- at least they'd have done the things they did because they believed in something." Ravn shakes his head. "They weren't ethnic cleansers. They were just privileged white people seeing no harm in making some money and really, what's war got to do with us anyway, and besides, if it wasn't for the Germans we'd all be speaking Russian. They weren't motivated by beliefs or politics. Just petty greed. It's part of why I don't want to be part of it all."

"Yeah, you couldn't even associate with me." Perdita tells Isi, taking a bite of the oreo, then chewing thoughtfully. "Fucking conquistador heritage somewhere back there." The bite of oreo is followed up with a sip of booze. "You haven't intentionally benefitted from their crimes, Ravn. If you inherit the wealth, donate a huge chunk of it to charities trying to help the descendants of survivors. Tell people what they did and why it was wrong." Perdita sighs and leans back in her seat, looking up at the sky. "I'm just glad we're all physically okay. Emotional scars are shit, but... what's one more emotional scar, anyway."

Isi has slowly drawn more in on herself, the marshmallow now nothing more than a charred memory.

"Yeah..." That is quasi agreement there.

"Well, you know me. I spent last winter in a trailer park." Ravn shrugs. "My personal budget is nothing to write a soap opera about. There's a lot of money tied up, but it gets reinvested to the name. Much as I may have my personal issues with some things, there are a lot of people whose wages depend on that company which happens to be renting my name."

"And I spent last winter in a penthouse apartment in a very different town. Life is weird... and then you get sucked into weird dreams." Dita mutters, shaking her head slightly. She doesn't comment on the marshmallow murder, however, attention elsewhere. At least there were no suicidal cows.

Isi starts at the fire before asking, "How much do you trust your friends? I... think I can't stay. The dreams... I could deal with them. But... it isn't just them."

Ravn tops his glass up; that the man drinks whiskey like others drink tap water is nothing new, and some day it's probably going to bite him hard on his skinny backside. "Well, that's me, mask off," he murmurs. "1940, 2021, same bloody deal."

If he could put a finger on what bothers him so much about it he might even be able to explain it. It's just, there are so many things. Mixed feelings, and a lot of things that he's spent years teaching himself to simply not think about.

He glances at Isi instead. "What -- do you plan to do? I trust the people I call friends. There aren't a lot of them, but I trust them infinitely."

"I don't trust anyone as much as they deserve, but... I trust both of you as much as I can." Ravn's chugging his, Dita's barely touching hers. She takes another sip of the whiskey, watching the fire tiredly. "Who are you having trouble trusting, Isi?"

"Everyone." Isi replies simply. The pillow gets pulled to her chest tightly. "I've been held at gunpoint twice this week. The dream and normal person - I can't keep... doing this."

She pulled herself even tighter. "I... have time off. To get my shit together."

"The dreams will keep punching you where it hurts," Ravn says matter-of-factly. "Now that the Veil's figured out how uncomfortable I am with my family and its history? I am in for a hard time, of this I have no doubt. The question, maybe, is whether we can find a way to make you more able to deal with this. Maybe time away is the solution, but I am -- doubtful. Because no one ever actually leaves. I don't think you will manage -- but please, prove me wrong."

"Will the Dreams follow her if she gets out of town? I didn't used to have Dreams like this before I moved here, so... the further away you get maybe the less-bad they'll be..." Perdita sighs and shakes her head slightly. "We need therapy. You especially." she tells Isi, gently, "You've been through too much shit."

"I don't know. I just - I hate feeling so fucking helpless. I hate being a burden."

Isi looks upwards at the pair is them, beyond even years right now.

"We could have a hate-off. Take turns telling something about ourselves that we hate." Ravn looks up at the ceiling too, as if wondering what Isi is looking for, up there. Or maybe he's just wondering if his demons and her demons are going to fight over the amount of space available there, and if so, whether it's going to turn out like the Thunderdome. "I hate the way I'm simultaneously Somebody and Nobody. But I'm never just some guy."

A glance at Perdita and he adds, "Honestly, I don't think they let go. Everyone I have talked to who left for a while said it gets less bad but it doesn't stop. But they start to lose their memories of this place, and frankly, that thought terrifies me -- losing my memories of the few people I actually care about."

"You're not a burden. You're not helpless. You're stronger than you know, and you're worth defending, too." Perdita tells Isi, softly. She's not, it seems, participating in the hate off. "Less bad is good, though... If you need help getting out, Isi, I can try to help you."

"God- if I start with that I don't think I'll ever stop." Isi says to Ravn - because she's got a whole list she could drag out. NOVEL LENGTH.

"What... what if I go... somewhere. Like. A... mental hospital. For a week. Or more. Or something?"

"Maybe it will be good for you." Ravn keeps looking at the ceiling. "I have spent some time in hospital like that. I did not enjoy it, and it did not help me. But you are not me. And you are not trying to explain to the nice doctor that the ghost behind him is going to kill the first nurse who looks at me and smiles."

He sits up a little. "What is it that you are struggling with, specifically? Guns? I'm tempted to suggest that if that is the issue, -- maybe you can take some of their power away by learning to use one, on a shooting range."

"Research it and make sure it's a reputable place before you check in anywhere." Perdita advises, but otherwise she seems at least mildly in favor of it. "Find a place with good security, but not so good that you can't get out if you need to."

"I thought about it - I'm sorry." Isi says slowly. "Alexander was teaching me to fight and someone accused me of PTSD. Just - what if they're right? I don't want to hurt someone because I was so wound up that I..."

Isi shakes her head slowly. "Perdita - can I hug you again? I swear it's not weird just. Please?" There's a glance at Ravn - but she's trying to be respectful.

"I hugged you in that dream," Ravn says quietly. "I just need to see it coming. It's not weird to need human contact or comfort. And having PTSD -- in this place... I suppose that's easy for me to say. Hate-off item number two: I have more psychiatric diagnoses than I can remember off hand. PTSD is one."

"Of course you can, come here." Dita scoots over on her deck chair, making room for Isi, holding open her blanket. "Come on, before I turn into a Ditacicle." it is, indeed, quite cold out, and the height just means the winds are stronger up here. At least the various plants around the edges of the building provide a wind break, and the fire is merry. "You might have PTSD. That just means you survived horrible things, Isi. Like Ravn and I have, too. PTSD doesn't mean you're weak. It means you lived through something terrible, and it left a mark."

Isi isn't going to give Perdita a chance to take back that offer once given. She scoots herself right into the blanket space opened up and is going to cling to Dita.

"If you want to come..." There is absolutely room here for Ravn to come over and get into a pile.

The Dane pulls his coat up around his ears. "I'm all right. I have a coat and it's only got one bullet hole in. Should have seen the old one."

He gets up and walks to the edge of the roof, to stand and look down at the street below. "I think you should consider learning to shoot. Not because I 'd recommend packing a firearm. But because taking away the mystery of the weapon takes its power away. After I was shot the first time, that's what I did. I go into the woods regularly, shoot plushies. Because I do not want to be afraid of this."

Perdita wraps Isi up with her into the blanket, looking to Ravn with a raised eyebrow. When he rejects the offer, she shrugs slightly, hugging Isi close, comfortingly. "Learning to shoot is smart. Let someone teach you that, and practice it a lot until you're not afraid of the weapon anymore."

"That does sound like a good idea." Isi isn't totally committing to it, but she's listening more than she was before. Dita gets clung to firmly.

"I.... I am going to get out for a little bit. Something. Look into a new car or... something. Not forever. But... could you both text me each day? I can't forget then, right?"

"You've got my number. If you don't text me, I'll text you. Deal." Ravn nods and looks down at the moving lights, far below. It's not so very difficult to imagine this place in a time where gangsters shooting up a detective's office was real -- though they probably weren't actually wolf men.

He looks back at the women over his shoulder, and if there's something slightly off about his expression before he turns his gaze back down to the street, it's probably just that he did in fact get shot right here, in this building, a week or two ago. "In this town -- in this life, there's no such thing as normal. Not for us. But there's building a life in spite of it all. For me, fighting back. It's the whole difference -- between being a victim, or being one side in a war. I may end up a casualty, but I'm not a fucking victim."

"I'll text you every day, don't worry. If only to make sure you've got that car and don't need a ride somewhere. Otherwise Ravn and I will have to Thelma and Louise a roadtrip out to find you." Which... sounds vaguely terrifying. "Refusing to be a victim is important. Refusing to let it turn you into someone who victimizes others is, too." Perdita reaches up, absently petting Isi's hair gently.

Okay. So that makes Isi laugh. It's not much of a laugh, more like a "heh" of exhaled breath. But it's something okay?

"Deal. I'll go... lay on a beach or something. Or check myself in somewhere. Or jut... something." She leans herself onto Perdita's shoulder - currently intent on soaking in the physical touch. "Then.... try again."

"I went home," Ravn murmurs as his blue-grey gaze trails someone walking a poodle far below. "Back to Denmark. I wanted to see if I'd forget. And how I would feel about this place, once I was away from here."

He chuckles, a little lopsidedly. "The only thing I wanted to do while I was home was lie in my hotel room and get drunk. And then Hyacinth flew out to see my home -- she's into architecture, and seeing Engelsholm was a treat. And I felt -- good about that? It was fun. When I got back, Rosencrantz asked me if I was fucking blind, and how often women fly across the Atlantic to visit a bloke."

"I recommend the beach vacation. Go somewhere with not that many tourists, spend a week out catching sun at the beach. Find a cutie. Seduce them." rob them blind, steal their identity... "Have a nice time."

"Seeing Engelsholm was a treat... and yes, darling, women don't typically fly across oceans to visit casual friends. Even the filthy rich ones."

"Getting laid would be nice." Isi isn't going to pretend that she isn't interested in that. "That's not possible here right now. I don't know when I'll run into somebody who... I don't want to touch off something with someone that they don't want."

The storytime about Ravn and Hyacinth brings a small smile to her lips again. "I wouldn't mind hearing more stories like that. It seems like everything it always the bad."

Ravn shakes his head. "It didn't work out. I don't -- see it. When people like me like that, I mean. After six months she told me we were going on a date. I agreed -- I mean, I liked her. And if she wanted to do that -- then she had to like me. Right? That's how it works. But the date never happened. She got busy again. Then the time slip happened, and we met again -- and it worked. The magic was there. And then -- she was gone again. I can't help feel that I'm too slow on the up take. But yeah. Getting laid is nice. Go for it if you can get it."

The one getting laid regularly doesn't comment on how nice it would be, merely toying with Isi's hair gently, providing warmth and human contact for someone who desperately needs it. "I'd suggest the two of you hook up, but I'm afraid the cackling would wake the entire tristate area at this altitude." Perdita comments with a soft smile. Isi and Ravn are two of her favorite people, after all.

Isi eyes Ravn from within her curl with Dita. "I wouldn't object." That is said nice and quietly, for Dita's ears only. But then again, Isi would sleep with Dita too given the chance. So, GRAIN OF SALT.

"When is the last time you did get laid? Before you know," the last girl. Because ISi clearly doesn't think that it ~counts~.

"2015. Before my fiancee died." Ravn shrugs and watches the poodle try to lead its owner eight times around a lamp post; poodles are vicious, devious creatures. "Casual dating doesn't have a lot of appeal if I have to be honest. So that's hate-off item number three: I don't want to get laid because some European asshole with a title sounds like a good catch, and I don't want to have to explain to random women in bars how neuropathy works."

He's got good hearing but not good enough to catch a whisper between two girls sharing one blanket.

"It isn't a big deal in itself. I just feel very stupid sometimes because I honest to God do not realise these things until it's too late. At the time I do, the other person has already lost interest or gotten preoccupied with something else. Case in point, and so on." He shrugs again. "Why are we talking about my dating life?"

"Because we're distracting Isi from how fucked up her life is with how fucked up your life is. And then when she leaves, we'll talk about how I emotionally manipulate everyone around me because I'm terrified of actually letting people see the real me, because I can handle a persona being rejected but if they reject the real me, it hurts too much." Perdita pauses, looking down at the glass of whiskey. "What the fuck did you put in this, sodium pentothol?"

"Yes, what she said." Isi chimes in helpfully. As long as they're being gleefully honest then Isi can be a happy little camper. Well. Relatively happy.

"There's nothing wrong with not recognizing it. I mean - does anyone actually get it?" Focusing on their problems is 10/10 better than thinking about her own. "How... many personas do you have?"

They don't have to wait for Isi to leave to talk about their soft spots.

"Are you asking her or me?" Ravn laughs softly. "Because I have -- a considerable number. So many, in fact, that one of my psychiatric diagnoses revolve around not knowing who the real me is. Of course I didn't think it was any of their business who I am."

He glances back at Perdita. "You know how I handle rejection? I don't give people anything to reject. I'm here today. If I'm gone tomorrow, does it even really matter? People's lives go on just fine. They get together, they break up, they live their lives -- and I live mine. I like a lot of people here in Gray Harbor, I like Gray Harbor itself -- but if I were to go home to Denmark tomorrow, do you think it would really matter? Rejection only works if you convince yourself that you're needed."

"I've reinvented myself so many times I don't even know anymore, honestly." Perdita admits with a soft sigh. "The two of you and Garrett know me better than anyone, at this point, and... I keep catching myself tweaking my reactions, who I am to make people happy, or to get the reaction I want out of someone. It's not healthy." She finishes off her whiskey. "I would miss you. More than needing you around, I want you around. I think that's more important. Being needed can just mean providing a useful service or a skill. Being wanted around, though? Means you have value."

"Both." Isi says, eyeing Ravn from over there. "I feel like I want to hug you but that would mean leaving Dita and her playing with my hair is pretty nice. How are you at hair?" Seriously, Isi is goign to soak in anything that Perdita is willing to give.

"I don't get why you'd want me around." Honestly said.

Ravn nods his agreement with Perdita. "But when people want you -- they are not rejecting you. The trick is how to move from no big difference to that place where people will genuinely notice if you. There are a handful of people here in Gray Harbor whom I want to think would in fact miss me if I were to leave. Strangely, they're all people who see the real me, rather than some facade I prop up. And I am good at that -- just like you are. Reading people is easy. Manipulating them is easy. Being honest with them, long enough to build a genuine relation, is hard."

He half-turns to watch them both and then offers a little smile. "Well, maybe you can hug me sometime you're not already curled up in a nice blanket. And don't do that to yourself -- the why do we want you around anyway thing. I want you around because I like you. I find your honesty to my liking. I don't like people who obscure the truth or make me guess. I like that you're up front about what's going on in your head."

"You're strong, you're smart, you're capable, you're ethical. You're a damn fine person, Isi. Why wouldn't we want you around? You put yourself in danger to expose corruption when someone like me would have demanded a cut to stay quiet. You're a good person, and that's worth keeping around." Perdita gestures to Ravn, indicating his response, too. To Ravn, she responds, "It's because when you put up the façade you're not letting them close enough to know you, so of course they won't miss you as much, even if they notice you missing. Nobody in Seattle's looking for me, after all. Because I didn't let anyone get close. But here?"

Isi isn't totally sure that saying whatever is in her head is something to WANT - but if Ravn's saying it... Well. She chews on the inside of her lip and looks between them. Gauging how genuine to take the pair of them - especially as they're so good at concealing their own feelings. Distrust runs deep - but in a split second she decides to go the other way.

Trust.

Dita abruptly gets a squeeze. "I don't deserve you two. And I don't want to forget either of you ever."

"I'm not certain anyone deserves me," Ravn returns with a lopsided grin because when in his life did this man ever just take a compliment. "But here we are, and life apparently won't do you better at the moment."

Then he smiles, and there is a lot of genuine warmth in that smile. "I am not very good with guessing what people want or need. A lot of the time, I feel like people around me are speaking another language, or that there is a set of rules but no one gave me a copy. I can play these games -- I am good at them, I would not have been a successful grifter if I was not. But I do not feel that I relate very much to people when I do -- and it's a vast relief when people just tell me outright what they want, what they think. Then I can decide whether I want to go along with what they want or I can decline, but I do not need to carefully navigate their every secret intent."

The squeeze from Isi is returned with a squeeze from Perdita. "It's not about deserve. Plenty of people deserve good things and never get them, while others deserve a school bus to hit them doing ninety in a fifteen." she shrugs slightly. "Until someone's actually handing out good things, don't worry about what you deserve, focus on what you have."

The look Ravn gets from Perdita is sympathetic. She hasn't always been the reader of people she is now, after all. "I'll do my best to be up front with you. Whatever that ends up looking like."

"I feel like there is something oxymoronic about a folklore expert not liking mystery...." Isi muses, a half tease. One can remain tangled up in knots for so long. Also, look! Alcohol! Always a temporary balm for the soul. Thankfully Isi is a happy drunk.

"You both have so much... experience." A statement, with Isi's eyebrows pulled together as she considers this for the first time.

Ravn cannot resist another smile as he glances back to the street below again. "Karma's a fickle bitch. I do love watching her at play, but most of the time, -- Dita's right, what we deserve and what we get has very little correlation. Hell, look at most politicians and tell me they don't deserve to be subject to their own laws, and then tell me how often they actually are."

He picks a cigarette out of a coat pocket and -- proceeds to not light it, because it's one of those plastic menthol affairs for people to chew on when they badly need a cigarette but are around non-smokers; maybe the penny has finally dropped that Perdita is not keen. Compromise, it's good for you.

"Folklore is not about mysteries," the Dane points out. "It's about social dynamics. All those stories are symbolic of values and instructions. It's how a culture passes on what to do, and what not to do. We don't like mysteries, because mysteries are social dynamics we cannot explain."

"Don't you listen to all those men, I only kissed them on the cheek and said goodbye at the door." Perdita tells Isi with a wry smirk. Everyone here knows that isn't true... But it's also clear that Isi doesn't mean that sort of experience.

"It's about sharing the mysteries with the right people, in some cultures. Keep the outsiders ignorant of how to properly do things, so that if they try to infiltrate, you can tell."

Mr. Professor's mini-lecture goes rrriiigghhhtt over Isi's head. If the veil really wanted to fuck with them it would create a cartoon woooooosh. Alas, all is normal here, so Ravn will have to make do with a slow blinking and a, "...what?" Instead.

"No - but you have been places, done things- I mean, clearly that," a glance at Dita and for once Isi will have some shame to blush. "How do you build that kind of culture from..." vague hand gesture as Isi's words fail her.

Ravn tosses a nod Perdita's way. "Those mysteries, though, are not inexplicable to the folklorist -- they are social dynamics intended to weed out foreign elements and keep people acting in the socially approved way. That's what the entire field is -- instructions and advice, wrapped into story archetypes for easier consumption and remembering."

He can't help a soft laugh. "Isi, damnit. Coyote, what's his purpose in your culture? He's a trickster. He teaches you that sometimes, survival means change, and thinking outside the box. What's Little Red Riding Hood? Don't send your innocent young girls into the woods alone, there are wolves. Or, if you include the bit where the huntsman kills the wolf, don't send your innocent wolves into the woods, there are promiscuous sluts in red coats."

"Don't send your innocent young girls into the woods alone, they'll become promiscuous sluts in red coats." Perdita retorts with a smirk, switching her whiskey out for a bottle of cola, now, and more oreos and marshmallows. "When we're more sober I'll try to explain Romani culture as I interacted with it as a kid. It can be beautiful, but... like every culture, it's got its flaws."

"I... feel like I should argue the Spilyáy is more complex then that but..." Nope. That would encourage Ravn and one should be more sober and less scared to endure that. Sorry baby.

"I want to get back to the point where I care about clothes. After Emil... it just seemed so stupid. And the crazy at the store who wanted his PS5 would have pointed a gun even if I looked okay... fuck - we did look good in the dream. How do you manage to keep caring? " The clothing question for Dita, but her eyes track to Ravn for his take too.

"We can have that argument another time, preferably after I get to read up on Coyote." Ravn chews on his plastic stick. Then he looks down at the street below, where the poodle has managed to wrap her lead at least eight times around a lamp post and is now getting a sound rogering from a stray mutt while her owner is desperately pulling on the leash as if to uproot the damn lamp post.

Isi's question prompts him to think a moment before replying, though. "I think I manage by -- two things. All of this -- it's just counter moves on a very big game board. It's a game. I distance myself mentally -- sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Defeat in a battle does not mean the war is lost."

Yelling ensues from far below. "The other way is, nothing really mattered a whole lot to me before I ended up here. So it comes natural to me now, to fight for the things that do."

"For me? It's a weapon. As much as a gun, as much as a knife, looking like I own everything means people respect me. Looking like a dumb bimbo means people underestimate me and are taken off guard when I'm not. The clothes serve you, not the other way around, and if you want to wear a sweater and blue jeans, that works just fine, too, but for me it means I'm going out effectively unarmed and my confidence undermined."

The yelling on the street below catches Dita's attention, and she slips away from Isi, leaving the extra blanket draped over her, to peer over the side curiously, laughing as she spots what's going on. "Get it, poodle, get it!"

"Spilyáy," Isi murmurs when Ravn says Coyote again - but it isn't meant to start and argument. Instead she pulls the blanket closer and listens. A small jod - "that takes a lot of confidence." Which Isi doesn't have currently.

When Dita rises to see the commotion Isi uses the extra blanket as a half pillow to curl herself up into a ball of blanket covered Isi.

"I could see you with a poodle. Ravn's a cat guy though- or a derpy beagle with big soulful eyes."

"I'm a cat guy," Ravn agrees. "I have one, remember? Or she has me. And given that when I tried to tell a nice man at the police station that she was in fact the one responsible for the death of a suburban lady last year they laughed at me and told me to watch less daytime TV, I'm just going to keep her. Or keep being kept by her. We're still negotiating the finer details of ownership."

He looks back and winks. "Or maybe it's just that she's a dom and I'm a sub."

Another glance downwards. "I'm not much of a dog person. It's nothing personal, just -- I don't feel connected to them the same way I do cats."

"I have a cat." Dita responds with a smile, glancing back into the building that looms, mostly dark, behind them. In the patio door loom a pair of gold eyes, catching the reflected firelight, along with the silhouette of a half grown kitten. "Her name is Tsinyorri. She lost veranda privileges because she kept trying to yeet herself into the wild blue yonder. If she hadn't been wearing a collar..." Perdita shivers slightly.

It is impossible not to melt when people talk about their pets, even when this pets are not one's own preference.

Still smiling that slightly gooey way, Isi shakes her head. "It's not that there is anything wrong with cats, I'll get in a staring match with them any day but, you know, I'd want to take them with me on hikes and stuff. Know they are happy to see me without guessing."

"I like knowing that if I have to leave -- or the Veil wins -- my cat will just find some other sucker with opposable thumbs to open her tuna cans." Ravn looks back down below; a gentleman is trying to help separate the loving couple, and as any dog lover will know, that is a lot easier said than done. "In my inner landscape I am a cat. A stray who is there today and gone tomorrow. The kind of cat no one really notices. Lives in your yard or shed for years and you only notice something's up when some day, the stray that eats your scraps is a tabby instead of a calico."

"You just have to find the right cat. Tsinyorri's affectionate but mostly keeps to herself unless she wants to play, but some breeds, like ragdolls, are just as affectionate as any dog. Personally, I'm like Ravn. I like knowing that she'll be okay if I disappear and Garrett has to take care of her, or someone else does. I'm pretty sure she can figure out the elevator on her own, already." Perdita isn't kidding, either. Tsinyorri might not be able to get back UP, but down? No problem. "Have you thought about adopting a rescue pooch, Isi? Keep you company, extra set of ears."

"I hadn't-" Isi replies, frowning as they make an excellent point AGAINST adopting a creature who couldn't necessarily take care of herself if her recent shitty luck catches up with her.

More sips at her drink will be the general solution to thinking.

Ravn shakes his head and walks back to his chair where he proceeds to pour himself another stiff whiskey. "What's the point? There isn't a point. I fight the Veil because it gives me something to do with my life. Because I have people here I care about, friends. And without them, without this place, all I have is getting back on the road and keep on going until some day I get shanked in a bus stop for the change in my pocket."

"You can always set up regular welfare checks on the dog, Isi. If nobody hears from you for a day or two, check the dog. Plus, your apartment's walls are literally cardboard, your neighbors would hear a dog whining and all hungry." Perdita points out. There's no shade in the way she says the walls are cardboard. Her apartment is at the top of a literal murder-office, so.

"I'll think about it... having something with an extra set of ears is.... well." Isi is going to seriously consider it. Anyone down for going to some rescues with her?

Ravn sips his whiskey and watches the firelight through the glass and the golden liquid; the result is aesthetically pleasing. "I think the most important thing in this town -- if you want to stay after all -- is to find a way to not be alone too much. Most people aren't made for it. They can't handle it, and they end up in self destructive habits -- because that's what the dolorphages want, for them to be miserable. Find your joy. Find whatever makes you feel like you have a family waiting for you when you come home."

"That's... honestly part of why I let Garrett move in. Not only was I alone here, I was alone here and seven stories in the air. Nobody would hear me scream, nobody would know if something bad happened. I want to fill this place with people eventually. Not my apartment, but the whole building should be alive with people coming and going. It's like it misses it. But." Perdita moves back to her seat, still occupied by Isi, climbing back under the blanket with her. "If it gets to be too much for a night or two at your place, you are welcome to crash up here with me and Garrett. We'll drag my king size mattress out into the living room, build a pillow fort and watch bad movies."

For all Isi is feeling cuddly and gives up her space to Dita to rejoin quite happily - Isi makes a face at Ravn's suggestion about staying alone. "A dog would help?" A hopeful question, because Isi is not quite ready to open her door up to hanging out with someone on more than a casual basis.

A flick of a smile at Dita. "That's kind of you. I know Ravn's offered his sofa too it's just..." nice trail off to show she's not convinced yet.

"Aidan's sofa, technically." Ravn takes another solid swig. "But it's part of why I wanted to stay with a room mate in winter. In summer, well, if I end up dead in my bunk -- the seagulls will let people know. Once it starts smelling funny they'll be all over the Vagabond, and the boats at the neighbouring berths would notice, soon enough. In winter, though? I could be lying about dead or injured for a long time in that trailer I rented last year, and no one'd notice. Aidan and I don't rub elbows all that much, but he'd notice the smell or hear a yell for help, I'm sure."

"I think a dog would help. A dog would make you feel less alone, would be good company, an extra set of ears... someone to snuggle." Perdita squeezes Isi's shoulder gently. "Having a dog about is having all the best parts of having a person, without the need to fill the silence with conversation, or expectations. Animals expect affection and play, they expect food, and they expect that you clean up their potty messes. That's it." Perdita smiles, glancing back at the door, where Tsinyorri no longer is, probably having gone off to join Garrett, or to get into mischief elsewhere in the apartment.

"I'll do some research tomorrow - maybe that would be a good goal going out of town. Get dog, bring back. Fuck... something." There is a whole bunch of pondering that is going to go on as they work on drinking a whole lot.

Isi probably isn't going to end up going home today. Instead she's going to pass out on Dita's couch after drinking a lot and eating way more marshmallows than one deserves to eat at any point. At least she's not talking about running away forever.

At some point, somebody's probably going to notice the absence of Dane. If not before, then at some point there's probably going to be someone looking around in the morning and saying, "Did you let Ravn out? No? Huh." He'd be a pretty miserable ex-thief if he couldn't sneak out of a house just as well as he can sneak into one, after all.

People cope with the loneliness and the onslaught of trauma of this town in various ways. Some get a boyfriend, some get a cat, some get both. Some get a dog. And some just go to bed with a bottle when sleep won't happen on its own.