2022-04-27 - A Trail of Colour

On Oak Avenue, there are a number of lovely older houses dating from a time when this was an upper middle class part of a thriving lumber town. Now, Gray Harbor is substantially less thriving, and most of these older houses could do with a little love -- but it's still a lovely and quiet suburbia. One which is gaining a bit of local interest in recent weeks given that it seems summer arrived early in the yards of Oak One through Five, for no particular reason. Most people reason that there must be heating pipes or similar in the ground, heating up the soil and allowing summer flowers to bloom out of season. No one really minds, least of all the rabbits who get to feast on Una Irving's carrots waaaaay early.

Lots of people live here, and do their yardwork here. In number Three, for instance, Ravn Abildgaard has his vintage motorcycle, a '63 Triumph Bonneville -- and there is nothing unusual about seeing him in jeans and t-shirt (black and black, naturally) on a morning like this, going over her every cylinder with an oil rag. He loves that bike. Sometimes, a black cat sits in the sidecar, or even snores curled up in a ball there. Today is one of those days, bright and sunny and -- given it's Oak Three -- summer temperature. Let the rest of Washington State shiver in April, it's nice here.

Una Irving is no Mr McGregor, at least: she probably won't bake any of her ('her') rabbits into a pie, though she will shake her fist at them if they eat too many carrots (it's not that she's not willing to share, but the under-privileged children of Gray Harbor need carrots for their eye-sight, too!). This particular morning, both fine and sunny, finds the redhead refilling the bird feeder that usually hangs from one of the eponymous oak trees of Oak Avenue. Or, at least, that seems to be the plan: Una manoeuvres a step-ladder around from the back of the house, with an over-sized tub of bird seed hefted uneasily over her other arm.

"Morning, Ravn," she calls. She doesn't have a hand to lift in greeting, but the words will do the job just fine: they're neighbours, and none of this is unusual.

It may be a nice day at Oak one through five, but everywhere else it's chilly and drizzly, so Robin is wearing a windbreaker and a slightly beat-up cap to ward off the chill. Even so, he's pretty damp as he turns his bicycle up Oak Road, casually pedaling through the area and past Ravn and his bike. He sails by, reaches the end of the road, and turns off to another street. And that would seem to be that.

Except a few minutes later, here he comes pedaling back, rolling down the street and past Ravn's house on the way to an unknown destination. This happens three or four times before finally, he slows just at the edge of the summery area and pulls over, setting his foot down to balance as he closes his eyes and frowns. After a few seconds of this, he sighs and opens his eyes. This time, he climbs off the bicycle and wheels it along, keeping his eyes on the side of the sidewalk and gutter, as though searching for something.

"You look lost," Ravn tells the cyclist -- probably because he's come by three times now. At least. Does he recognise the other man from that other day, a few weeks back? Probably not -- he was a little preoccupied at the time, what, with being covered in paint, glitter, and gummy dicks at the time, not to mention yelling obscenities at the vintage car quickly disappearing down the street. "Are you looking for somewhere or someone?"

He raises his gloved hand in a wave to Una upon spotting her. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever as the Dane is concerned; possibly a small hope of breakfast happening on the porch of Number Five. That would not be unusual, either.

Una's house, too, may be familiar: number five is home to Della of the bicycle repair-kit, too, and the silvery Prius parked outside.

Letting out a little grunt of effort, Una sets down her ladder, carefully kicking out the bottom step so that it can stand up on its own; leading ladders up against trees, even big, sturdy oaks, is never a particularly smart move. "Or something," she offers, lifting her voice so that the question follows on from Ravn's. "I've not seen any lost people this morning, anyway. Can we help you at all?"

Her tub of bird seed gets set on the ground by her feet, and, carefully, she adjusts her ladder just so.

Robin glances up at Ravn's question, almost reluctantly, but he at least has a friendly enough smile. Or as friendly as can be expected for someone who's been biking in a drizzle all morning. "Me? No, /I'm/ not lost. I'm looking for something that's lost, actually..." His gaze wanders to Una, and he lifts a hand in a brief greeting. "I don't suppose you've picked up a necklace off the sidewalk around here recently?"

Ravn rubs his fingers on his oil rag. "I haven't -- but if you want to take a look around the yard, feel free. We got magpies -- they're American magpies but they seem to have taken a hint from their Eurasian cousins. They definitely steal bright and shiny things. It wouldn't be the first time I've found some spoon or hair pin lying around on the lawn or the porch."

He's got to call it something. Whatcha gonna do, tell some stranger that pixies steal shiny baubles?

It takes Una a moment to work through Ravn's explanation: her glance has already aimed itself in the direction of the faerie ring in her neighbour's yard, though it hastens back to the two men a moment later. "Magpies," she agrees, then, a little amused beneath the gentle warmth of her tone. "Terrible things, really." Even so, she's giving Robin a considering glance; he shines, she can see it, and how he reacts to the, uh, 'magpies' may be of interest to her. "You're welcome to look in my yard, too. I've not seen anything, but-- that doesn't necessarily mean anything around here. What makes you think it might be here?"

Robin's brow quirks upward. "Magpies," he echoes, skeptically. After a pause, he just shakes his head. "Sure it's not possums? Magpies are one thing, but possums are mean." He leans his bike against a convenient tree, and wanders into the yard, casting one direction and then the other at seeming random. The last question draws Robin's attention back to Una, with a little shrug. He considers her shininess for a moment, then Ravn, and finally answers, "Just a feeling. I won't bother you for long." He makes a show of looking at the ground, peering around at the grass, but his seemingly random wandering starts leading right toward that faerie ring.

"You're the kind of bloke who always knows where your car keys are, eh?" Ravn looks after the thing-finder with mild amusement. He knows this feeling well enough; the acute spatial awareness, the instinctive just knowing where everything is, even when he cannot quite see it.

A wink to Una. Hey, 'magpies' was clever.

"Opossums, maybe, but I've not seen any around here," is Una's answer, and it's firm enough. She leans up against her ladder, not going so far as to climb it (although the bird feeder is right there, and frankly, even Ravn could probably reach it for her if she asked-- which she has not, and will not, and no, she's perfectly capable, thank you very much).

She grins at Ravn. Sure. Clever enough.

"No rush-- take your time. If it's here, you'll want to find it, of course." Not that Robin is in her yard.

Robin looks back toward Ravn, as though not quite sure how to take that. "Well, I'm not the one who lost it." As though that needed to be said. He keeps taking that indirect path to get to a specific spot around the side of Ravn's house. He glances back now and then to make sure no one is getting alarmed by how far into the yard he is going. "So magpies, hm?" He peers closer toward the house, then abruptly strides directly over to a hedge. He reaches in through the branches, and pulls out (surprise!) a necklace with a little grin. "You've definitely got /some/ sort of pests. I know she didn't drop it in anyone's hedges."

"Pest is such a big word. Neighbours. Lodgers. Magpies and fairies. Though if you found it in the hedge, it's probably the magpies." Ravn smiles. He certainly doesn't seem bothered by Robin's intrusion; to be fair, there is not a lot back there to spy on besides grass, mushrooms, bushes, and a rabbit sunning itself on a rock.

He cants his head all the same. "Haven't I seen you before, somewhere? Your face looks familiar but I can't quite place it."

"If there's a door or a passage through the hedge, though," warns Una, mostly not even seriously, because it's not as if there ever has been, to her knowledge, "Don't walk through it. Just in case."

She rests her forearms atop the ladder's ledge, and adds, "Neighbours are the worst pests, though, it's true." There's that glimmer of a smile. "Actually, no, it's probably just the rabbits, eating my carrots."

One cyclist seems to draw another, for here comes a potentially familiar figure pedaling her way along at a brisk pace. Ariadne's bike is nothing flashy, but her biking shirt?

Speaking of colors.

It's safety-orange, neon-pink, and CAN YOU SEE ME NOW yellow in an artful pattern along black. Her cyclist shorts, reaching to her knees, are of matching ilk -- and she has a helmet on, of course. The little gathering over on the lawn of Oak One has her glancing over and then checking both directions of the street (just in case) before swaying her path over. Up onto the sidewalk, bip bip, front and back tire, and she comes to a frame-straddled halt there on the cement, sporting a grin.

"Oh man. Party and I wasn't invited?" the barista pants. There's some sun on her cheeks and forearms, apparently, and the wind's tousled up her ponytail of deeply-red and celestially-dyed hair.

Robin carefully tucks the necklace into a pocket, but when Ravn mentions fairies, he shoots an unreadable look toward the backyard and the summery atmosphere. "I don't walk through doors unless I know what's on the other side," he remarks, in a distracted tone. But quickly enough, he snaps out of it, and begins his retreat to the tree where his bicycle is waiting.

Ravn's question is met with amusement that he can't /quite/ contain, though he certainly tries. "Me? I mean, probably. I get around." He takes another step or two back, and adds, "By the way, the black is chic and all, but I think I liked the rainbow glitter look better." Ariadne's arrival is met with a friendly little wave.

Ravn makes a face. Yes, that was it. The other man was one of the people present when he got glitter bombed. He winces, again, at the memory. There are still faint traces of colour here and there on the porch. He should paint it over sometime. "I'm not usually sporting a full tin of rainbow paint," he murmurs. "But yes -- I think that's where I remember your face from. What a charming first impression I must have made."

He nods at Una -- good advice! -- and then cracks a lopsided smile at the sight of Ariadne pulling up on her bike. "Nice shirt. Speaking of colourful. They can see you in Hoquiam, I think. Are you sure it's wise, blinding drivers?"

Una's gaze flicks over Robin, lingering in his vicinity for a few more moments before it sidles back again. "Wise," she murmurs, though it doesn't especially seem pitched to carry: perhaps it's as much for herself as anyone, or just something to say, when she otherwise lacks much of anything. Not that she doesn't let her mouth twitch, just ever so slightly, for Robin's remark.

She, too, is distracted from everything else by Ariadne's arrival, the brightly-coloured bird of par-- biker, that is-- earning a waggle of her fingers, released from their ladder-based resting spot. "Yes, a bike-washing, bird seed-filling, necklace-finding party. You know us; we know how to make for a good time." It's true, but comes with a smile.

Robin's wave is returned before Ariadne walks her bike in the semi-awkward manner of still-straddled up onto the grass, but not overly far onto the lawn. She makes it look less awkward than it appears, apparently having waddled bikes around for many years.

"Thank you kindly, Ravn. Generally, people hit the brakes when they see something this bright. Russ would be really annoyed if he had to find another to cover his shift," she quips with a good-natured smirk. Now leaning on the handlebars, she glances between all present. "Necklace-finding party?" Finger-wiggle-wave back at Una along with a fond grin. "Color me curious as well now." So colorful.

"It's not as interesting as it sounds," Robin explains, with a little half grin. "I was helping out a friend whose necklace apparently was stolen by a...magpie." He glances back toward the house, brow quirked. "How the 'magpies' got hold of it is anyone's guess, but we found it. No harm done." He glances toward Una, considering the steps and bird feeder. "Hey, do you need help with the bird feeder? I could get it down for you."

"I may be the resident ex-thief," Ravn murmurs with amusement and cleans his gloved fingers on the rag (how he avoids ruining those gloves is nothing short of a miracle, there must be some kind of cheating involved). "But I stress the ex. Given you found it in the hedge, my guess is the magpies. Blanket permission to go look another time if you need -- it won't be the last time they nick something. Mind the faerie ring, though. Couple of weird incidents around it, and all."

"Impressive ability, to be able to track it here," murmurs Una, not in a way that suggests she disbelieves-- not at all-- but certainly in a way that suggests this is not particularly a skill she's experienced with.

And? "Oh! Well. If you feel like volunteering yourself up this ladder, I'm not going to say no. Be my guest. The squirrels keep eating all the seed, and I'm too soft on them to-- well." The redhead backs up away from the ladder, crossing arms in front of her.

"Faerie ring's best left alone, absolutely. Don't mind any cookies you find there, either."

Cue a dubious half-smile for Robin. "Magpies."

The Seattle local raised practically all of her life not an hour from Grey Harbor looks intrigued despite herself. Is that a faint inflection of disbelief in the word? Yes. Still, she considers the side of the house and where it leads to the backyard, the site of the fairy ring she keeps hearing about.

"Una, tell me you're not sacrificing delicious snickerdoodles for the ring? I mean, those are tempting enough to make me consider traipsing over to the ring and taking one for myself. You think they'd mind?" A grin for the woman before she eyes Ravn in turn. "And is the grass still thick enough? Maybe a little entertainment will keep them appeased." By the cheeky wink she gives the Dane, she's more than likely referencing their last set of self-defense lessons.

The bird feeders are then considered. It's after Robin begins assisting that she notes, "I mean, do you want to set up a squirrel baffle, Una?"

Robin leaves his own bike where it is for now, and comes over to the ladder. "I don't mind." As he's climbing the ladder to pull down the bird feeder, he gives another slightly unsettled glance in the general direction of the back yard.

"Oh, I mean... No offense to any of you, but I'm not going anywhere near that. That shit's got shadows written all over it. Something goes missing in your yard again, it'll just have to stay lost." He hands the feeder down to Una, but stays up on the ladder so he can replace it when she's done filling it.

While waiting, he puts a hand on the trunk of the tree for balance, and shoots Ariadne an odd look.

"I mean, he's not wrong." Ravn glances towards the faerie ring with a lopsided smile. "We're on pretty decent neighbourly terms with them, though. They love Irving's cookies."

Then he raises a gloved hand at Ariadne. Behold, his gloved middle finger. Behold it in all its lonely glory. It is yours and yours alone. "The grass is fine, thank you. My ego, on the other hand? Still doing physical therapy three times a week, trying to learn how to walk again."

"Daily cookie deliveries," Una says, with a laugh. "It's the only way to keep the fae happy-- well, no. I don't know for sure what would happen if I stopped delivering them, but I'd rather not risk it. The grass," there's a little smirk, teasing and affectionate, and yes she's seen that finger, "is far too lovely to risk. Not to mention the weather in general. Do you want to take that risk, Ariadne? Do you really? When there are inevitably extra cookies in my kitchen?"

Robin gets a grateful smile; Una accepts the feeder as it gets handed down, filling it quickly and efficiently before offering it back up again. "I feel... kinship to the squirrels, these days. I don't mind. As long as the birds get some. I've read in books about people buttering their hands and getting the birds to come and feed off of that... think that'd work here?"

In a Disney garden like this one? Almost certainly.

"Nope, not wrong," the barista agrees with Robin about the section of the yard dedicated to the ring. The area is sent a more sober look of consideration, but this doesn't last long. She's getting flipped off and, frankly, grins just shy of the Prince of Foxes.

"Well, hey, maybe we can try again sometimes and see about your ego wearing more padding next time?" Ariadne asks of the Dane, then fretting her lip against another smile. Her attention is drawn back to Robin aiding in handing down the feeder and she catches the look. Eyebrow lift in silent question: yes?

Clip: helmet unbuckled. Then folding her arms across the handlebars of the bike she still straddles, the barista rests her chin on her arms; it makes her nod at Una a bit stilted. "I can tell you that if you stand still long enough with a handful of sunflower seeds, a chickadee will come check you out. I managed it only once when I was young. I mean, if you stood with a handful of snickerdoodles, I'd totally come over and take one," she then tells Una with a laugh. "One of these safer extra cookies which apparently live in the kitchen."

This is the face of cognitive dissonance. Robin looks from Ravn to Una, back again, then to Ariadne, with a vague sense of anxiety that he imperfectly covers with a tight smile. "I see," he comments, in a far-too-conversational tone. "So you're friends with the shadow creatures. That's...nice..." He hangs the bird feeder as quickly as it can reasonably be accomplished, then hops down off the ladder and starts retreating back to the edge of the yard and his bicycle. "Must be some good cookies."

"Now I don't half want to steal a plate of those snickerdoodles and go stand somewhere with them, to see how long it'd take before a redhead American barista landed on my arm," Ravn murmurs, and tucks the oil rag away into the little tool box from whence it came.

He catches that look off Robin though and shakes his head. "No. These aren't the -- they're not the monsters. These are faerie -- Irish faerie. And to be honest? I think they're as trapped here as we are. At least they're pretty civil, and communicate in pretty honest terms. They want our help to catch some of the monsters, though. Having seen those -- the nightmares, literal monster horses -- I'm all in favour of catching each and everyone and shoving it into the faerie circle face first, and then let them deal with it all."

There's an appraising look aimed at Ravn from Una, suggesting that perhaps she's caught at least some of his murmur, though her only remark on the subject is a grin of amusement.

"They're-- really not," she confirms for Robin, expression turning abruptly more serious. "I'm not going to suggest they're harmless, because... well, we're not harmless either, are we? And we've all heard at least some stories about the fae. But they're not-- Them. Definitely not."

Her hesitation is aimed towards Ariadne, towards Ravn, towards Robin again too. "Can I offer you a cookie? Completely normal, no-obligations cookie. As a thank you. I am not fae, and won't seek to trap you or-- anything. One of the safer extra cookies Ariadne's mentioned."

Ariadne watches the oil rag go away and blithely funs, "Peep peep."

Still, she's not one to miss the uncertainty in Robin's mien. She straightens out of her handlebar-slouch and thumbs at Ravn while her golden-hazel eyes track Robin himself. "What he said. I haven't seen any of the Fae myself, but I've never felt unsafe in the backyard. Weirded out, sure, but...I'm a scientist. It's new, it's weird, I'm fine with a little case of the heebie-jeebies until I know what's what." Una speaks and the barista glances over at her, nodding agreement, before back at Robin once more. "Una isn't Fae, yeah, and there's nothing odd with the cookies. She's just a very good baker and master of diplomacy in regards to the circle. Whatever's in the circle? Not monsters. Against the monsters, like mentioned earlier." Ariadne's smile is kind and earnest in itself; she recognizes this in Robin very well. After all, she'd been the scientist coming to a place like Grey Harbor, where physics are apparently rules to be bent at whim.

Robin continues taking steps backward until he can reclaim his bicycle, and just so happens to keep it between himself and the yard as he rolls it out. "Yeah, okay. Look. Shadows can be against each other, that doesn't mean they're on /your/ side. And I've seen tricky shadows, too. Ones that seem nice when it suits them. It's not--" He stops himself and shakes his head. "You guys do whatever you want. /I'm/ not going near them." The promise not to trap him just inspires a bark of unamused laughter as he slings a leg over the bike. He meets Ariadne's smile only briefly, but it's not exactly the freaked out look of someone whose view of physics has been challenged. The word 'triggered' might come to mind.

"No one's going to drag you into the yard," Ravn murmurs from where he's still kneeling, next to the vintage motorcycle. "Tell you what -- you figure they've nicked something another time, come knock on the door. One of us can go get it for you. Gut feeling is important, and if yours says to stay the hell away, might not want to argue with it."

He glances towards the yard. "I kind of felt the same way at first, not going to lie. I'm a folklorist, I know the bloody stories that go with that sort of thing. It feels less awful after meeting some of the inhabitants. And also, my cat keeps eating pixies, and nothing happens to her because of it."

Both of Una's hands lift, not defensively, but as a gesture of something: innocence, perhaps. No dark powers, here. Safe!

But she lifts her chin too, and with it comes an acknowledgement: maybe this was all too much.

"Thanks," she says. "For the bird feeder. It's fine-- don't worry."

Remaining astride her own bike, Ariadne then considers Robin with the unashamed contemplation of the scientist. It doesn't mean emotion goes away, but she makes no attempt whatsoever at hiding how she's watching and listening while withholding further input. Less variables, more potential clarity to his reactions.

Her glance breaks to both Ravn and Una before returning to Robin yet again. "Figure it's more 'the enemy of the enemy is my friend', if we gotta break it down like that," she shrugs, utterly pragmatic as she is from time to time. "But like she said," a tilt of head towards Una, "And he said," a tilt of head towards Ravn. "Knock on the door if you need help. We're all dealing with our own flavors of weird around here and if it's too much? There's a shoulder to lean on and hope to share."

Robin's sharp gaze lands on Ravn, and he frowns faintly. "/You/ might not. Doesn't mean no one will." But he presses his lips together and hooks his foot onto the pedal. He glances between Ariadne and Una, but eventually settles on Ariadne. "Look, you seem nice. Just... be careful with those things. Don't let yourselves fall into the shadows, you know what I mean? It's hard to get out again." He rolls the bicycle off onto the street, using his body weight to get it moving. "Thanks for letting me find the necklace!" he calls over his shoulder, a fleeting moment of politeness that doesn't land /quite/ true given that he's already in the process of fleeing when he says it.

Ravn looks after the younger man as he hurries to remove himself from the scene. The copper blond is still kneeling, and now he kind of chuckling to himself and shaking his head. "That poor bloke must think we're all insane here. When we're not getting rainbow paint bombed we're fraternising with the sidhe."

It's Ravn's chuckle that sparks Una's own laugh: an abrupt sound that comes after several long seconds of silent pause. "Poor man," she agrees. "He must've had an awful experience of some kind, and here we are... it is a bit much, isn't it?" She glances back at the yard: at the grass and the flowers and the rabbits and the... well, everything. "But I like it."

She glances back, giving Ariadne a glance, then Ravn; they both get a grin. "Oh well. He'll sort it out for himself. Or he won't, I guess, and he'll leave."

Watching Robin depart, the barista dedicates a single thoughtful note in commentary. Hmm.

"I think you mean y'all are fraternizing with the Sidhe. I am not fraternizing with the Sidhe." The backyard gets another one of those not necessarily suspicions glances, but cautiously curious nonetheless. Ariadne has, after all, only heard about the occupants of the ring and not seen them herself. Seeing is believing, as the phrase goes. At this point, she throws a leg off over the bike and then walks it up the lawn diagonally. Now there's two bikes in the driveway.

A last glance in Robin's direction and then over at Una with a grinning shrug. "Yeah...nothing else we can really do about it. Help isn't help if it's shoved down someone's throat like a pill. Then it's intervention and resentment gets involved and..." Her drifty-waffly handwave explains the rest unspoken.