2022-05-25 - Finding Stories

It's another clear spring morning, though at this point in the season (it's late May! Surely it should be warmer than this!) the blue skies aren't much consolation for the chilly temperatures. None of this has, of course, stopped the denizens of Gray Harbor from making their way out and about: rain or shine (and mostly rain), you just get on with things. Espresso Yourself is, as a result, as busy as ever, with a queue of patrons waiting at the counter to be served by Della the day manager and her crew, who are managing a production line of coffee preparations.

The tables are busy, too, almost all taken up by one person or another, and it's in that direction that Una Irving-- short, curvy, red-haired, mid-twenties-- is staring from her position in the waiting line: who's table can she barge in on, once she gets her coffee? The person ahead of her has moved up to the counter, leaving a big gap that Una should have taken, but hasn't seem to have noticed.

"Have I got one for you today," says Della the Day Manager to the tall man asking for a straight black coffee. Her tone is gleeful in a fashion that suggests that there is some kind of game being played; several patrons and the other barista glance that way, snickering. "It matches your dress code. Going Goth, coming right up."

Going Goth, it turns out, is a café latte -- with added active coal, turning it, well, black. And it does match the tall copper blond's dress code, this cannot be argued; Ravn Abildgaard wears black jeans, a black turtleneck, and a black blazer. He signs and takes the cup with a hand gloved in black kidskin. It's not what he ordered and yet for some reason he just pays and shuffles to the table at the window.

Margot Looking at the menu still trying to decide what to order, a well dressed black womab in her fifties notices that the eoman in front of her isnt moving up to the counter. "Excuse me Ma'am its your turn to order." she says as the man who was ordering getd his coffee with charcoal or something weird in it. "No rush from me but we probsbly shouldnt hold up the line" she adds with a smile. "Im going to end up ordering whatever I say first today myself too many choices."

Does it fluster Una, both to have been caught having failed to notice her surroundings, and, most likely, to have been called 'ma'am' by someone her senior? It does, spreading a light dusting of pink almost immediately across her cheeks. "Oh!" she says, blinking in surprise as she glances first over her shoulder at Margot, all apology, and then after the man in black and his drink in black, though at least for him she has a small amount of mirth and a waggle of her fingers: hi. "I'm so sorry-- clearly I need that coffee, huh?"

She steps forward hastily, and adds, "It's always just plain black coffee, for me. Nothing wrong with anything fancier... well, no. There's a lot wrong with a lot of things fancier. But a little fancier, I suppose, is fine. Hi Della--" She turns her attention to the woman behind the counter. "The usual, please."

Ravn settles at the table with the drink he has no intention of touching (and honestly, no one not either a delusional hipster or suffering from acute poisoning would). He raises his hand in a lazy finger waggle at Una and the lady next to her -- the second is not a familiar face but he suspects this will be remedied soon enough; she's got that certain pull, the gravity he associates with a certain kind of talent. "Good morning," he tells them both and nods at the window table; there's certainly room for more.

Margot steps up to the counter and orders some green tea with 2 tsp of sugar. "No charcoal or anything please" glancing at the name tsg to confirm she heard the lady in front of her correctly then adds "Thank you Della" and hands over a $20 bill to pay for the tea and leave a tip. As she gets her tea she looks around seeing someone apparently waving her over? "Hm" she says to herself and hoping the wave isnt for someone else heads towards that table.

Una pays for her coffee with a smile (okay, and some cash, too: smiles are not actually legal tender), and picks up the mug to carry with her. "Come and join," she tells Margot, echoing Ravn's silent invitation. "It's not as if there are other tables free, and--" And something else, too, but maybe that's worth waiting a moment or two over. "Morning Ravn."

She pulls out one of the other chairs at the table, depositing her coffee first, then sitting, forearms resting upon the table's edge as both hands cradle the warm mug, nursing it idly. "I'm Una," she adds for Margot's benefit. "And I am sorry for holding up the line."

If good for nothing else, at least Ravn can use his bizarre drink to warm his fingers on. "Ravn Abildgaard. Resident person who never gets what he orders, and this is why you shouldn't try to tell a barista what an Americano is. A year and a half, and she has yet to forgive me."

He smiles at Margot. "Don't think we've met. But never too late to fix that, yeah?"

Margot says, "Judge Jones" and adds to Una "Like I said before not a big deal, just dont want the people in the back of the line annoyed we got in and didnt decide while waiting" Turning to Ravn as she takes a seat across from him and Una "Nice to meet you. Most people dont like being told how to do their job.""

"Judge Jones," repeats Una, sounding-- not quite awestruck, maybe, but certainly impressed. "No, you're absolutely right. No one likes being held up." The redhead tugs her mug a little closer to her, perhaps in preparation for drinking it, or perhaps just because her arms are short and this is more comfortable; the jury's out.

"No, I think Ravn has definitely learned his lesson on that front," she adds, with a little laugh. "What's in it today? I wasn't paying attention."

"As far as I can tell, it's a latte but with active coal for the colour. Given that I don't actually suffer from some kind of poisoning, I think I will do what I always do -- not drink it, and wait to steal somebody else's." Ravn glances at the drink. Sure enough, it's foamy and, well, black. Coffee should be black but not black. "And indeed, just because every other coffee shop in the United States have asked me what the hell I mean, an Americano, what's that -- doesn't mean I should tell any barista what it is." He speaks with a light accent -- not quite British English but perhaps the accent of someone who was taught British English as a boy.

Margot gives a small chuckle "Like most things in the U.S. what you get largely depends on where you are, as the same terms used can be different. I can go back in line and order you something new if you'd like but since were sitting together she may mess with it again?" After a pause she adds "Hopefully my future orders are safe"

Pushing open the door, Willow walks in, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt. She stops just inside of the room, her gaze scanning the people here until they fix on one person in particular. Not wanting to alarm them, she offers the group a warm smile, though then moves towards Ravn, only speaking when she is close enough, "Morning Una, Ravn." Her gaze stops on Margot and her words still, nope, don't know her, so instead offers, "And someone I haven't met yet." Her gaze though returns to Ravn "Ravn, I'm glad I found you. I wanted to use your folklore expertise to help me on my newest quest."

Una makes a face. "I mean," she says, after a moment, "Arguably that's less bad than some of the other things I've seen her give you, but... still pretty bad. I'm not touching that thing." She glances back at Margot and grins. "Some people get away with--"

She doesn't get to the end of that statement, because Willow has arrived, and her question comes out before Una has a chance to finish. She hesitates, a little nonplussed, then gives an easy shrug, her nod serving in lieu of verbal greeting.

"I'm sure I'll live. It's probably best to not risk your own future orders rather than jump to my rescue. I might even get desperate enough to try tasting it." Ravn chuckles -- and looks up at the barista who wanders up. "Hello, Willow. Should I be putting on my teacher's hat, then? What's up?"

Margot takes a sip of her tea and puts the cup down as a person she doesnt know walks up and rudely interrupts Una mid sentence. She doesnt say anything though and just observes the interaction between the other three trying to figure out the dynamic here when Ravn says he's the new arrivals teacher

Another smile for Una, "Sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt anything." She just now realized that her suddenly coming in might be considered rude, "Well, maybe?" A look back to Ravn, "I was just thinking back to that walk we took in the woods, and the farmer and his cow." She tries to choose her words carefully, not wanting to alarm anyone nearby who doesn't experience the veil, "Anyway, I want to collect some similar stores, that is if now is a good time."

Una's too nice a person to be too offended by Willow's abrupt arrival, and seems inclined to wave it off with a smile of her own, though she does hastily pick up her coffee and focus on it for a few seconds after that. There's something in that smile: it quirks, just ever so slightly, and makes her seem faintly amused, though never in a way that is less than polite. "There's probably hundreds of stories like that," she puts in, though she's not the folklorist in the group. "Faeries in the garden, sacrificial cows, little girl ghosts who only come out when the lake is frozen over. Sirens."

Her brown eyes flicker idly towards Margot, then back again. "This town is full of stories."

"It truly is. Although the farmer and his cow seemed to be tied to a very personal story -- a family in town in which it's said that the women are cursed to turn into giant birds and or go on a murderous rampage. They all have bird names, as a fore-warning." Ravn nods. "That said, the one member of the family I know seems nice enough -- and sane enough. She sort of unofficially runs an animal shelter, and works in a garden shop."

He rests his chin on one gloved hand. "This town is full of ghost stories of some kind. And of ghosts, if you believe in them. Personally, I find that it's a little rude to not believe in somebody who's standing right there talking to you, but I suppose it comes down to whether one can see them -- and whether one realises that they are ghosts. The woman in the 19th century dress, that one's easy. A little girl in the park in winter, just asking for company too, that's a little harder."

Margot says, "Interesting story. I tried moving away from here briefly but came back. It seems the rest of the world just isn't quite as nice as home." thinking for a moment and taking another sip of tea "As to the believing people discerning truth from lies is part of my job. Listen to all sides before making judgement or youre likely to irrevocably ruin a parents life if not the childrens as well.""

Willow nods slightly, "yes so very true." She looks down at an empty seat at their table and motions with one hand, "mind if I join you? And what I'm trying to do is maybe follow a certain story or legend, here in town and then come up with a fiction based on it." A look over to Margot, she feels the need to explain, "I'm trying to make my mark as an author."

"That seems to happen a lot," Una says to Margot, crooked smile in place. "This place just brings people back, I guess." The dip of her chin in Ravn's direction acknowledges his reference to the woman in question, and seems to confirm his assessment, though she foregoes commenting on it, and instead turns her gaze back on Willow.

"Join away, of course. What kind of story are you after? You probably just need to keep talking to people, lots of people, and something that really strikes your fancy will come up. Maybe..." she hesitates. "Tread a little carefully, though, I guess? Even fictionalised, I imagine a lot of people don't necessarily want their stories, or the stories of their family, in print. I think there are a lot of pretty personal stories, around here."

"Best to avoid incriminating any living people, at least." Ravn nods slightly and glances towards Margot; who, if not a judge indeed, might agree that getting sued for slander is an overrated experience.

He taps his fingers against the cup of coal black horror. "Stories here go all the way back to before white men even arrived in the area. I've done a bit of looking into it recently -- and a lot of the stories we are telling each other now, the Salish, the Yakama, the Quinault, they have the same stories. Basket women and owl monsters -- it's still stories of giant, evil creatures that predate man, and who feeds upon man."

Margot slides over a chair to make room for the newcomer. "As an author I am sure you are full of stories. What do you write? Short stories, news stories, novels, biographies? Some may appreciate having their family history written down

Willow slides easily into the seat, her gaze slipping on the coal coffee and she grimaces, "please don't tell me you actually plan on drinking that, Ravn." She then looks to Una and nods, "If I were to use any of the stories here, it would only be for inspiration, the last thing I need is something or someone upset with me." Her gaze then moves to Margot, another smile offered for the woman, "Fiction or non-fiction, depending on what you believe, I suppose. "

"Who'd've thought," murmurs Una, dryly. "The history of this town predates white people: news at eleven." She sips again at her coffee, shifting the mug from one hand to the other, then putting it back down on the table in front of her; as much as anything, it seems to be something to do with her hands, something to keep them busy.

"Good," is added, for Willow's benefit. "It can be a touchy thing."

"The notion seems to have come as a surprise to previous generations of researchers," Ravn points out, equally dry. "Jules' grandmother seemed almost shocked at the idea that some white man academic might actually care for the opinion of someone indigenous whose only submission for knowing anything is that their family has lived right here for a few thousand years. That said -- once stories are of a certain age, it tends to become socially acceptable to discuss them. My family back home has ancestors named in several collections of ghost stories. It's generally considered prudent to not call out anyone who's still in living memory, though, put them in a bad light."

He glances at the black disaster in his coffee cup. "I assure you, I have no intention of finding out what this tastes like. I like having intestines."

Margot laughs "Intestines are useful. indeed." With a sigh she adds "As for the stories if youre looking to share I wouldnt mind listening, though I dont exactly have the want to spread them, reading and listening to more is always fun. I can definitely understsnd the hurt of lost loved ones with stories. Its difficukt to share them, and yet will they be forgotten if the life is never told?"

Una makes a face. "Oh, I know," she says. "It's shitty. No wonder Jules gets so mad. I think..." she hesitates, considering the little group. "I'd probably feel a bit weird if Asshole Irving showed up in someone's story, but that's as much because of my personal issues as anything else. I don't know. I'm sure there are some great stories that would work really well, though."

She exhales, leaning back in her chair in consideration. "Maybe stories should be told. I mean, I agree that they shouldn't be lost. It's just how they're told, I suppose. It's complicated."

"I don't mind my ancestors turning up in those records but to be fair, they were public figures even while they were alive and that sort of changes the rules. Besides, it's not like anyone not from this town would take them seriously." Ravn nods lightly. "Fiction is a good way to pass on instructions. And in a town like Gray Harbor, passing on instructions can be life saving. After all, there's a reason we warn people off the old lumber mill or the carousel in the park. As long as they're too creepy for teens looking for a place to make out, well, that's fewer teenager eaten by grues."

Margot emote slides her chair out "Nice to meet you fine folks, Miss Una, Sir Ravn. I need to get a refill and head to the office. Would like to brief myself on my upxoming cases so I know whats going on and I dont want to fall behind" with a sigh "Thanks for the seat and warm welcome. I really would like to hear your story when you have some time." she says to Ravn and turning to Una "May we unfortunately forget our surroundings near each other in the future"

"I'm sure we'll meet again. This is the only coffee shop in town." Ravn offers a small grin to Margot as she gets up. "And who knows? Maybe next time, I'll get something I dare drink."

A glance over from Della behind the counter does not bode well in this regard. Is she smirking? She is smirking.

Willow looks up as Margot leaves and she lowers her head in greeting, "hope you have a nice rest of your day." She then looks back to Ravn and Una, smiling, "Ravn, would you like me to get you something else, that is the benefit of my working here." She leans back a little in her chair, her fingers folding together to rest on her stomach, "were there any certain stories that I should try to follow." A look back to Ravn and Una, "I'll be sure to bring a few people, and go during the day."

At least Una grins, then outright laughs. "Good to meet you too," she tells Margot, cheerfully. "We'll see about that. Have a good morning."

Willow's question draws a pause, and after a moment's hesitation, a shrug. "There are so many stories, I wouldn't know where to begin. What kind of thing are you really looking for?"

"I think I'm going to have to second that question," Ravn agrees. Then he glances at his coffee and shakes his head. "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with Della. For what it's worth, I did bring this fate on myself, and I'm pretty sure that if I really did walk up and complain about it to Eleanor Roen, I'd get proper coffee."

He toys with the cup all the same. "Gray Harbor has so many stories. From evil mermaids to ghosts, mad scientists and gremlins. It's kind of funny given that we're a small Washington town covered in mists -- the only things we don't see a lot are werewolves and vampires. Maybe those are in the next town over, I hear Forks is quite the place nowadays."

She hmms softly though nods to that, "alright, suit yourself." To the question about what she is looking for she laughs, softly, "I'm not entirely sure to be honest, something that I can investigate, to learn the truth, even if I don't write that truth, I have a deep interest in ghosts and the supernatural."

"I'm not sure I understand. Someone you can investigate? You mean that you want to befriend a ghost? That might not be as difficult as it sounds like. There are plenty of them in town -- but most of the time, we don't even notice, you know? The little old lady in the supermarket who comes in every day to buy the paper, nothing unusual about her except that she's done that every day since 1938." Ravn taps his lip. "So I'm guessing you mean more -- well, dramatic things. In my experience, those tend to happen to people here whether they want them to happen or not."

"Forks can keep its werewolves and vampires," mutters Una.

She seems less certain over Willow's question, and at least a little relieved by Ravn jumping in-- after all, he's the one Willow wanted to speak to! "People talk about those things, too: you just have to listen, and ask questions. That's how you'll find out more. Be inquisitive. You're a writer, so that should come naturally, right? I mean, everything we've mentioned in this conversation is real, whether it's something that happened to someone else, or to us. You'll find that's true of most conversations you have about this."

She chews thoughtfully on her lip, not exactly what she was hoping for though she nods and smiles a little, "fair enough." She rises from her seat, "I'll go get started then, see what I can find, thank you for your help."

"Good luck. I think you'll find most people around town are quite willing to talk about their experiences once they get the feeling you won't laugh at them for believing in the supernatural." Ravn smiles a little. "It takes a few tries sometimes -- after all, we keep getting told ghosts and monsters aren't real, but that doesn't stop them from turning up."

"Lots of ghosts," agrees Una. "Lots of experiences. I know I'm always happy to talk-- just ask. Take care, Willow."

Her expression is thoughtful as she watches the other woman leave, but that doesn't last long: a few moments later she's leaning forward again to continue her conversation with Ravn.

"I have to say, I'm still glad this place has none of the werewolf and vampire crap."

And aren't we all.