2022-04-14 - Friendship, Photographs, and Fairies

Lovely warm weather, here at last! The drizzle earlier in the day has let up enough to allow folks the enjoyment of being out in the warmth, and Monroe is doing just that, enjoying the outdoors and the time in the sunshine, in spite of the freckles that will likely come along with said time.

Long ginger curls are left to spill around his head and shoulders with a little less defiance of gravity than normal, though pinned back on one side with a huge butterfly barette, and he's wearing what seems to be a late 70's style take on a Victorian era blouse, loose and flowy, with a high collar, wide ruffles and lots of lace, tucked loosely into a pair of high waisted brown corduroy shorts, knee high brown socks, and a pair of darker brown riding boots. Ever present is his messenger bag.

In short, he looks like some old doll that's being haunted by the soul of a drowned child... with weird fashion sense. He's currently perched on the back of a park bench, feet where one would normally sit, and a sketch book in his hands, the page blank. In the distance, a group of kids are playing, one of them with much shorter ginger curls. They're actually playing ball and the laughter of children rings out occasionally. Monroe is watching, perhaps a bit worriedly.

Photographable. Della has her phone out, but mostly for the trees; she's still in winter colors for all that it's after Easter, sleek black but for camel-colored silk blouse and oxblood leather accessories, with lipstick to match. The cobblestone paths mean taking more care than just sauntering, but it's not like her bootheels are as high as all that, and she has purpose. (Also, coincidentally, a side barrette; hers holds back black hair that's considerably shorter than the opposite side, and it's more subtle than dramatic, somewhere between seashell and steel like her manicure.) But while she's at it...

"All right if I take your picture? Della, she/her." She glows, and not just her smile.

"Depends, are you going to use it for nefarious purposes?" Monroe asks, tilting his head with a wry smile. The accent is British, Received Pronunciation.

"Monroe, he/him or they/them, either set is perfectly fine with me." A warmer smile, this one crinkling the corners of his sage green eyes just a little.

He doesn't seem surprised that someone would want to photograph him, he knows he's got an unusual look, after all, with typical ginger coloration but facial features that speak of a very recent Black ancestor... and then there's the freckles. They're strongest on his face, but they pick out in clusters across his legs and arms, too.

Mischief enters Della's smile at that, and she's about to answer when -- "'Monroe.' As in, healer Monroe?" where someone else might insert 'Marilyn.' Her accent's a mix, but United States coastal. Both sides.

And belatedly, "Trading with a friend back home," in that 'happy to elaborate, just not now a priority' sort of way. The phone? Faced away, at her side.

"That would be me, yes. Though usually it's only for serious injuries, as it doesn't make sense to heal up someone's head cold. Consequences for doing it too often... usually aren't worth paying for." Monroe's green eyes find the ginger kid in the distance, his expression slightly troubled, before he looks back to Della.

"Alright, then. So long as I'm not being used to establish your alibi or going to end up on a magazine or something. There's enough of nudes of me floating around, as it it." He pauses, realizing how that sounds, and laughs, "I'm a model for the art program for extra funds."

"I've heard," Della says quite seriously, but she also leans minutely towards her toes and back down, pleased. She follows his gaze towards the group of kids then looks back, steps back.

"Thank you -- and," she laughs, "No, no alibi. I hope. Good for you for the art program, too. Have a favorite angle?" Left to her devices, she'll go for one where the lighting isn't too harsh, or else is purposely harsh, and sets off that hair and lace with whatever expression he chooses to make. "It was Una who mentioned your name. My landlady. I don't know if she mentioned... They're all fine now."

Monroe seems to take in the lighting, considering, and shifts his position and posture a little. It's effortless and relaxed, the sort of pose one could hold for quite some time without needing to take a break to stretch or move overly much, though he settles on another of those wide smiles that makes his eyes crinkle slightly, making him look both older and younger at the same time, as most adults simply don't smile that brightly for strangers. Once the picture is snapped, he nods and the smile relaxes a little.

"I'm so glad she's doing better, didn't seem like her chest was feeling too grand the other day. Something about being assaulted by a tree?"

She gets three, then walks closer so he can review if he wants... but quite naturally to the side of the bench, so he's not hemmed in. "Yes," Della says, and pulls a face. "Who knew there would be Ents -- Ent-analogues -- trotting around." Still, there's a subtle relaxation at his confirmation, at the information she hadn't herself supplied; then she drinks in another deep breath, this time just because it's spring.

"Honestly, does it overly surprise anyone? A few weeks back I met a time traveling Ghost Elk or some such, and a slave trader using it to kidnap humans. He knows not to make a return trip to our era, or I'll be finding him and showing him why my first name is 'Phoenix'." Monroe approves of the photos with another smile, "You're quite the photographer."

Time-traveling Ghost Elk -- Della just shakes her head and laughs, hair swinging. "Sounds like you're a lot further along with this than I am. But then, you can heal. 'Phoenix' spelled like the bird?" After that, her smile even manages to widen. "Thanks. I try not to leave it all to the filter."

Stepping back, she rounds the front side of the bench, pausing by the other end -- where, purposely, she won't block the view of the players. "It's oddly like a reunion, only we've never met. Is that common to this town? 'Do you know about this and that,' 'Have you met thus-and-so,' with an extra soupcon of 'Where's a good place to go dance.'"

"Precisely the same. Don't know why, suppose my mum just liked the name. 'Monroe', though, was because she intended to name me Marilyn if I was a girl, so..." he shrugs and smiles. "Phoenix feels a little... comic book nerd for my tastes." he pauses, gesturing toward the kids, "The doppelganger is my little brother, Alfie. And it's not short for anything, Mum just liked weird names."

"I don't know if it's common to town, but it's not uncommon in my life. I grew up near two different castles and some of my best friends were fairies, growing up. The, uh, literal sort. Not the me-sort." he laughs, "So Gray Harbor is a return to form, rather than a terrifying new experience. Though I could do without the ghosts by the pond."

Della's got a slow nod for comic book nerd -- and then a look, followed by a quick smile towards... there? no, there: Alfie. "I won't say I wasn't wondering. If it helps, Della isn't short for anything charcuterie."

But then, glancing sideways but not at all side-eyeing, "Literal fairies? Like our Oak yard? Not that I've seen them. What are they like? I haven't heard about those ghosts, either." She half-laughs. "After this, after Gray Harbor, I'm going to be so gullible."

"Literal fairies. Well. Fair Folk. They were beautiful. A bit odd, but..." Monroe shrugs and smiles, a bit wistfully. He doesn't seem to be pulling Della's leg. "Gran invited them to stay in our garden after they got sick of the tourists at Beeston Castle... as Guests. They're why I'm so freckly. Gran says they're Fairy Kisses." or it could just be that he was out in the garden with them so much that the sun made it happen.

"You and me both. If someone tells me they've walked on the moon, I'm gonna believe them. I've yet to meet the ones out on Oak, and the only odd thing we've got in the gardens out at the RV grounds are our neighbors."

"Did she." Maybe it's the fairies that delight Della, but quite probably it's his gran. "That's lovely. I don't suppose you're half-fairy yourself? Does that even happen outside of novels?" She adds, "If you want to meet ours, and you aren't, I don't know, allied to the Capulets where ours are the Montagues, we can talk to Una about that happening."

"Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me... Well. I know my father is a Baxter, but I don't know about Mum's dad. Mum and Gran never talked about him, and I never asked." a little shrug, "Gran was still pretty enough to catch the eye of all the men in the village when we went out, when I was little, so..." he smiles, "Wouldn't surprise me if she'd found herself some handsome Sidhe Lord for herself... though I'm pretty sure he was just some jerk who left when Mum was young."

"I'd love to meet them, if only to see them for myself, since it seems half the town has seen them, now. As for allied... I'm not sure of that. I'd... call and ask, but they don't exactly have phones and I don't know if the new owners even know what they have in the garden."

"Baxter. I ought to know something about the Baxters," but Della spreads her hands: no luck today.

"Wannabe Sidhe Lord, then," she teases, leaning against the back of the bench. "I'll let her know. Or maybe a group text? Want to trade numbers?" Whether Una is the actual fairy go-between is irrelevant; she's the next step in the -- fairy? daisy? -- chain. "And do you mean to tell me, the fairies weren't disclosed in the sale?" She shakes her head with the feigned tsk-tsk of a woman at least twice her age.

"Local family, string of bad luck, around at least as long as the Addingtons, from what I gather from Ravn and a few other people I've spoken with." Monroe offers up on the subject of Baxters.

"Absolutely. It never hurts to have the number of someone who's in the know. Also a photographer! Who knows when one might need one of those?" he asks, good naturedly. He offers up his number from memory, smiling.

"I did tell the Estate Agent that there were Fair Folk in the garden, but I'm certain she thought I was just a superstitious country bumpkin."

"Lovely. Well, I hope the bad luck ended before you." Della glances up from the phone she's just unlocked, noting of photography, "Strictly for fun. Not that..." tap tap tap, and his phone gets the buzz with her name and his very own picture.

"Good for you for trying," she adds, mischief in her smile. "Was it a 'thin place,'" air quotes, "there too?"

"Not as thin as here, but... it seemed to be, at least a bit. Especially up near the hills. I think they were massive Fairy Forts a long time ago, before people started settling in the area... But I'm not certain, of course. It's hard to know since these sorts of things don't really get written down properly."

Monroe smiles as his phone buzzes, adding Della's contact info into his address book. "Nothing wrong with things being strictly for fun." he notes, "Half the classes I've taken have been strictly for fun. Next semester is fused glass!"

"Fairy Forts," Della breathes, and this smile is a funny little one, as though remembering.

But -- "Wait. Fused glass, seriously? Tell me more."

"Have you had much experience with Fairy Forts?" Monroe asks, tilting his head, "Or was it a gay bar? I would name my gay bar The Fairy Fort, and the logo would be a militant lesbian with fairy wings and a rainbow labrys."

Monroe is grinning now. "I don't know a ton about it, but it's going to be at the community college, apparently learning how to fuse glass and make jewelry, which sort of... suits my whole aesthetic as a random new age hippie, I think. I literally live in a double decker bus."

Della's halfway through a shake of her head when Monroe incites her into a laugh, eyes scrunched up and head tipping back and just, just relaxed. "I would absolutely go there," she says. "Please. I wasn't joking about that place to dance, either. Know of any? Or know someone who'd know someone?" For that, even the double decker bus -- double decker bus! -- can wait.

"I'm not sure on dancing, but I can definitely recommend Okey Kokey Videoke for a fun place to go and spend time. I was there with Ravn, Una and Ariadne, and up until the sprinkler system triggered, it was a blast. Once the sprinklers triggered... well, I still had fun. Best performance of It's Raining Men since The Weather Girls." Monroe's eyes are positively sparkling with the memory.

"Providing it's still open. It was really pouring."

"I'll check that out," and Della's still smiling despite its possible fate, the names are all good, it's just --

She tucks her phone into her pocket and takes hold of the bench's back, leaning back, stretching before tipping forward. Not all the way forward, not where her hair would get on it -- all kinds of things wind up on benches, some of them sticky -- but enough, and then she straightens again. "There are times I miss the city." Any of her cities.

Back to Monroe: "Living in a double decker bus, you said? That sounds like a story."

"Which one?" Monroe asks, still perching on the back of the bench as he looks over at Della, head tilting slightly.

"It was my graduation present from my mum. I don't know where she found it, but it's a 1960 Bristol FS, and it got converted to an open top deck in 1966, got decommissioned completely in the nineties, and I spent the better part of a year converting it into a proper home and getting it road worthy, then took it on the road. I've been all over the states, up into Canada, and down into Mexico in it." there's a sense of genuine pride in his tone, now, as he discusses the bus.

"The City." The way Della says it, not only is it capitalized, it's a proper noun, its own kind. "I've lived in a few. Some more, hm, comfortable than others. But not as many places you've been, sounds like!" She smiles sideways at him. "All 'tiny house' style? What went into the converting?"

Though, "Almost forgot." Tap tap tap.

(TXT to Una Monroe) Della : Una, when you get this... Monroe knows fairies! Monroe would like to meet our fairies. I would like to meet our fairies, unless we shouldn't. LMK?

"Oh, just... not the small town life. I can understand that, I suppose. Not great for... people like us." Monroe tilts his head a little, smiling with just a hint of wistfulness. "Although the worst thing I've had is the occasional odd look, mercifully, and one very confused man asking me on a date then discovering that I wasn't just a tall woman."

"I had to gut the entire thing, enclose part of the second floor... it was a lot of welding and careful framing, but I learned a lot thanks to my step father. He wasn't always the best guy, but he genuine loved me like I was his, and didn't treat me much different than Alfie, excepting Adult Responsibilities like babysitting."

(TXT to Una Della) Monroe : Yes, meeting them sounds quite lovely, providing they're comfortable with that, of course, as are you. I wouldn't wish to impose.

If that's the worst of it... there's something subtle in Della's expression that speaks of relief. "Poor boy." The confused man, not Monroe, and she still doesn't spare particular pity for him. "Though we do like to see what we want to see."

"Your stepfather, though? Good man for that, at least. That's quite a project." Vibration must cue Della to glance at her watch, because she not-quite-repeats, "Lovely," warm brown eyes finding Monroe once more. "We'll see what she says." Then, "It was my big sister, one of them, who taught me. Though we didn't work on anything as large-scale as that."

Reluctantly, "I should think about getting," she waves the non-phone hand in the air: out, going, something. Somewhere.

"As should we, it's getting on toward Dinner and Homework time for both of us... It was lovely meeting you." Monroe smiles, then winces slightly, "It's a leftover from my childhood, that word. Gran was big on manners." He stands at his full, not much taller than Della height, smiling.

"Do let me know what Una says... but again, if she, or They, are uncomfortable with the idea I absolutely understand. I don't wish to offend either."

He then puts his fingers to his lips and lets out a high pitched whistle to let Alfie know it's time to head out... and starts walking that way, to collect the kid, what with the weather getting chill and the sun threatening to set.

"And you," Della responds quite genuinely. "I like it." And, after a nod of confirmation, "Safe travels."

She walks away too... and then after a while turns to look. One last photo, as it turns out: silhouettes joining each other, brother and brother, the golden sun at their backs.