2022-06-09 - Library Research

The library.

It's one of Una's favourite places, all things considered: somewhat less creepy than the one she has at home, and also more likely to contain new releases, not to mention reference materials on specific subjects not currently covered by... well, the peculiar and wide-ranging collections of her ancestors. This afternoon she's upstairs in the reference materials section, pouring over a bound copy of something, her finger-- holding a pencil-- tracking down the records line by line.

It's quiet up here: Una's not alone, but nor are there the usual over-enthusiastic children, or even the social old ladies who are so quick to shush others but seem to forget, sometimes, to shush themselves.

Ariadne, generally an easy-going sort, happened to get wind of this escapade and wished to tag along. A reason to haunt a library? Sounds good to her. There's something to be said about the solemnity of the volume of information at hand -- the potential. It's not the biggest library she's visited (that record belongs to another location, far more grand than this one), but she's found a book dedicated to the historical discussion of the local species found in the bay around town. It's circa early 1900s and she's bitten her thumbnail to keep herself from laughing at one of the notations:

Do not think to stick your finger in this species of anemone, making water upon the stings does not aid in diminishing pain.

No shit, Sherlock.

In a simple tunic-blouse of lavender (with pockets and a hood, such delight), she shifts her weight into a lean against the actual bookshelf itself. A glance up at Una. "Found anything interesting?" Her voice is quiet per the rules of the library itself.

Who's the town ninja? That's right -- Ravn Abildgaard, the ex-thief who never did manage to get over his habit of staying quiet and unseen whenever possible. And if there's suddenly someone in the next chair, holding up a book on American cryptids, that someone is a tall copper blond folklorist. "Are we having a secret club house meeting?"

Una's gaze flicks from Ariadne, for whom she has an answer even if she's not yet given it, to Ravn, for whom she has a tiny squeak of surprise, followed by a lift of reddish eyebrows, as if to say: rude. "Yes," she confirms. "That's exactly what we're having. Any minute now, Ari and I are going to start passing notes, or folding up a paper fortune teller so we can decide if our crushes really do like us, or if we're making things up." There's a twinkle in her eye for that; a continuation of the high-school-but-better mood from last week.

"Well, the 1920 census has the Irvings living on Pine Street," she adds, a little more seriously. "Albert, his daughter Irene, and her daughter Millie. I can't believe I didn't think to start looking at this sooner."

Ariadne's 'eeep!' is a bit louder than Una's squeak and she, perhaps amusingly, pulls the book flat against her chest while she gives Ravn a smirking lift of her own reddish brow.

"What Una said. I lost my fortune telling paper widget though, Una, I'm so sorry, we're totally in the fog of the future without it! Whatever will we do?! Oh, wait, there's horoscopes," she quips. Her own book is turned cover-out to face the others and thus, identify it as the tribulations of someone attempting to take a census of the local species. "I'm curious to hear what you've found though, Una, since your family has been here for some time."

Meandering over to Ravn, the barista then gives a gentle kiss to his coppery curls. "And you tell me about what cries I have to do to summon a Bigfoot when you're done," she grins.

"It's my impression that Mr Haggleford is the man to ask about that," Ravn murmurs and glances at his book. "I am trying to verify how many bizarre things people around this town have seen in recent years that actually seems to be an American cryptid from somewhere else. The more we know, and all that."

He brushes his gloved fingertips over Ariadne's arm; the Dane is never one to go big on public displays of affection. "So Millicent is real. Do you think we can go back and ask her more questions? Or should I ask, do you think there are cues in her story that may be useful? Because to the best of my knowledge, there is one archive in Gray Harbor that records everything."

Haggleford. Una wrinkles her nose in distaste for the mention, but doesn't push the line of thought further.

Instead, she pulls out her phone, flicking through some photographs until she comes up to one; the phone gets slid across the table. "She's definitely real," she confirms. "And more to the point: well. I had a look in the library at home, after we talked, Ravn, and I found... this." It's a photo of a 1920s era book-- a picture book, by the looks of it-- and written in an unsteady, childish hand, is the following:

For the Indian woman. I'm sorry.

Millie

"So I don't know if there are more cues, and more things important, though I have to believe the answer is 'maybe'. But I also... think we may have actually spoken to the actual Millie. Because that? That's for Jules."

Kunckles get counter-brushed against Ravn's arm in turn while Ariadne wonders quietly to herself about the fine details. She can put some of the puzzle pieces together, but not all --

-- not, at least, until Una rotates the book to offer up its open pages for reading.

Leaning in with a little frown, she lifts her brows with parted mouth.

"...holy shit," she murmurs, looking between Ravn and Una now. "That's a time capsule of information! You -- you actually might have met the real Millie then!"

"That's pretty -- game changing." Ravn nods and glances at the book that Una is holding, and the photo. "We always assume that these ventures are Dreams -- that they're not real. Of course this opens up a new can of worms -- might it still not be real? Could just be the Veil screwing with you Inception style. But we have to allow for the opportunity that it's real, at least."

He looks at Una. "How important is it for you and Black to find out? I'm not joking when I say there is one instance that records everything, or so I've been told. I'm not joking either when I say, traipsing around the Other Side is risky."

The real Millie. It's a heady thought; an exciting prospect. But. But.

Una puts her phone away, and hesitates, considering Ravn (and Ariadne, too; they're conveniently located and that helps) with a thoughtful, unhappy expression. "Right," she agrees. "It could be more Veil fuckery. I mean, it probably is, right? The likelihood that the door to the library at home opened and my ancestor walked out is-- I mean, it's ridiculous."

She swallows, hesitating hard. "I don't know," she admits. "That's my answer. I want to find out. I really want to find out. But-- as much as I do, the idea of going... there is, I don't know. I want to, and I also really don't. I really want to see it, and that's a ridiculous reason, because you don't do dangerous things just because you want to see something, and also..."

"Ehhhhhhhhhhnnn..."

A very quiet sound of mild disagreement from Ariadne still lingering next to Ravn's chair. She's set her book aside and lightly folded her arms under her chest. "I think going into the Veil is the last option, but not an unviable one -- just the very last one after research is totally exhausted first. I've heard about this...recorder and they're no one to fuck with. Not only that, but the Veil might be attempting to lure you in with this, Una. It's nice bait, you have to admit it," she notes with a grimace and spread of one hand briefly before herself.

Ravn nods his agreement with both women. "First we determine if it is that important to you or to Black. Then, assuming that we decide it is -- we make a risk assessment and we look at what countermeasures we can take. And then we decide whether it's worth the risk. I'm not one to leap into decisions like that. Stepping Over at Gray Pond and then right back is one thing. Hunting down the Archivist at Town Hall is quite another. But it is an option, and it is in our arsenal, and hence, it should be evaluated along with the alternative options."

"It's a very nice bait," agrees Una, making a face. "The Veil... knows how to pick its targets. Lure me in with knowledge about my ancestors; lure Jules in with the chance to make up for an old wrong."

She's still hesitant, but between Ariadne's opinion and Ravn's, she seems a little more certain, now. "Okay. Yes. That's a good plan. I'll have to talk to Jules. And hunt down every last scrap of information on this side too, first. Because-- no, I don't think that is a risk we should be taking unless we're certain it's the right move."

Straightening, she adds, "I'm not reckless. We'll be scientific about this. And, equally, it's not urgent. Nothing about it is time-sensitive."

The Archivist. Ariadne makes a little disdainful grunt. That asshole.

She glances between Ravn and Una again. "Yes, talking with Jules seems wise and I'd really stress the fact that it looks like bait to me. Bait to make either or both of you want to step over to the other side. Maybe I'm overly-cautious, but if I wanted to get you or Jules over there? It'd be via family." Her grimace lessens only slightly on her sigh. "I'm glad you don't consider it time-sensitive though. That lops off another option where maybe They would try to make you misstep or be hasty." Deepening her voice, she quotes a la Treebeard, "Don't be hasty, Master Meriadoc, boo-rah-rhum."

It mostly works to convey the depth of voice. Mostly.

"Indeed. We've seen how bad it gets when somebody rushes into things with the Veil, and thinks everything will sort itself out in the long run." Ravn glances at his book and then places on the table. "So let's not do that. We're rational adults, and we're trying to solve a mystery that has already waited since 1920, earlier. It can wait another day, or week, or month. I know I'm a chronic overthinker, but maybe that's still better than the alternative."

He smirks at Ariadne's impersonation. And then nods. "And before we even think about doing anything, we clear it with Black. Because this is her story. And she's the one whom the Veil is trying to pull in."

Ariadne speaks sense, and so too does Ravn. Una nods her confirmation, seemingly at least a little relieved by this: good, okay, no one is rushing in to anything, everything is fine.

Except: "Oh, shit. No. The moment it gets mentioned to Jules, she's going to want to do it. She's going to want to do it right now immediately. You've met her, haven't you?"

It would be funny, except... it's really not. "The trick will be talking to her about in a way that doesn't make her want to rush into it. Not that-- well, at least it's not something she can do alone. That's a relief. But."

"Ehhhhhnnn..." Yet another sound of gentle disagreement.

"It's Una's story too. It's her family. But this doesn't negate Jules or the inherent risk of the entire affair. Lemme think." -- and Ariadne does, tapping a fingernail against her teeth while she considers the carpet before her shoes. "I think...maybe Jules, by now, has had enough encounters with the Veil to think twice about going it alone. Call me an optimist, but our little jaunt to Paris? She would have been stuck in the catacombs without me and I'm not saying I solved the problem: I'm saying it took teamwork to make it happen. Going it alone is brave, but...there's a saying about how it's only courageous if you survive. If you're dead, it was foolishness and miscalculation."

"Jules can't do it alone." Ravn keeps it matter-of-fact. "She can get in there with her figure -- maybe. She can't get back out. That means she needs me, or someone else who can. And I am not rushing in, and I will tell her so when she asks. Anyone who can, will. Because every time, we're taking a lot of risk. People here don't talk about it but you don't see them flouncing in and out of the Veil at random. Because the ones who did, stayed in there."

"It's not that I don't think Jules has learned some from her experiences," muses Una, carefully. "It's just that... when something is personal for her, and this would absolutely count as that, I think she's... less likely to think twice. Maybe I'm wrong."

In either case, she gives a firmer nod and agrees, "But, right: she can't do it alone. So it's fine. We'll just need to temper her enthusiasm, and... get our researching hats on, before we do anything else. That's fine. I'm not down with taking risk unnecessarily, or unprepared. I am not okay with any of you, anyone I care about, becoming one of those statistics, the ones no one actually tabulates because the Veil won't let us even try. No. No way."

"Right. We're unfortunately predictable as humans and Veil entities draw off human experience. Keep showing up willy-nilly, something's going to have set a snare for you and the bait sure as hell is going to be the good stuff," Ariadne sighs.

She glances up, hazel eyes keen beneath her dark lashes. "I vote all the research possible before speaking with Jules as well. Maybe it ultimately won't change an opinion, but the knowledge is sure to be useful and maybe even something to draw upon if push comes to shove and folks end up in the Veil."

"I know Jules has learned something." Ravn looks at his hands. "And I learned something too. I may be the bloke who can open doors but I can't open anything if I'm drowning. That dunk in the Chehalis reminded me rather forcefully. I'm weak of health, I'm disabled, and I need people with more ability to keep me upright while I work the magic. It's an important life lesson because it's easy to get overconfident. And overconfidence, more than anything, is what kills us here, I suspect."

The near-drowning (and, to be fair, all of its associated traumas) makes Una wince, her face pale and unhappy, features pinched. "Right," she agrees, finally, after several long seconds of silence. "Right. Yes. No over-confidence. We don't do anything at all until we're ready, absolutely certain."

A sharp inhale, then; a sharp exhale to follow, too. "I'm going to show her the inscription, and that I found out that Millie really did exist. But I won't mention the Archives, not even in passing. I won't lie, but I also... it's better this way."

"Realistically, no one can do much while they're underwater and trying to get to the surface," Ariadne notes. She lets her hand be seen before it brushes along Ravn's arm again. Any more detailed conversation about the incident with the Chehalis is going to require tea and a blanket bare minimum, in her book.

Una gets a nod. "I'll agree with you on this: forthright is better, even if it's bumpy for a bit. Lying is ugly thorns and vines and then you're trapped and Maleficent is chortling at you."

"The best lie is the truth. Trust me, I used to be a con man." Ravn smirks lightly and then settles in one of the chairs around the table. "The art of lying is not making up something believable. It's leaving out things, and letting people fill in the blanks themselves. Unless somebody reminds Black that the Archivist exists, I doubt she's suddenly going to start thinking about it. So just don't bring it up until we're certain we're ready to have that conversation."

Una's sharp nod acknowledges Ariadne's point about being underwater, but it's not a topic she's willing to take up with actual words. Besides-- even now, she only knows so much about it; it's not her conversation to get in on.

Instead; "Ha. Right. Taking tips on lying from the liar; that's smart of me. Okay-- that makes sense. As long as I don't blush or get awkward about it, it'll be fine. The point is to focus on just the important things: look what I found. Not 'and this is what we're going to do about it'." She straightens her shoulders, focusing her attention on the census record on the table, and then back at Ariadne and Ravn.

"If nothing else... all of this is giving me just a little more insight into my family. They're not all assholes; that's nice to know."

Ariadne smiles to herself.

"All families have assholes, but yeah...it's rare the trait runs at one-hundred percent expression. There's always somebody in there who's a sweetheart willing to be a friend rather than a dick," she agrees, returning to her lean against the table near to Ravn's chair. "Looks like it skipped you anyways, the asshole gene." Gentle tease for Una.

"Hell, even most of my ancestors aren't too bad, and we have asshole stamped on our DNA at birth, just before they stick the silver spoon up our backside." Ravn smirks, a tad lopsided. "I feel like I should reiterate something that Black got so pissed off at me about, one of the first time we talked: Asshole Irving very likely did not think of himself as an asshole, or even doing anything wrong. Going about this assuming he was a villain is wrong. He was just a man of his time, taking something that surely he could make better use of than those painted savages who don't understand God or money anyhow."

"Oh, does that mean I've hidden my inner asshole well? Excellent," Una teases in return.

She makes a face, though. "I mean-- yeah, I know that. I do. But he's also an asshole that throws things around and makes the library really unpleasant to be in; I have feelings about him. So it was nice to meet someone who I don't have negative feelings about, and who actively made an effort to improve herself." By the end, she's at least half smiling.

"Anyway. It's fine. Research. Lots of research."

Counter-teased, the older redhead laughs softly. Library: must still be on partial-mute.

"I'm with Una on that one. Currently, Asshole Irving is an asshole. I haven't wandered into your library for that reason," she admits to Una with a little moue of apology. "But where are we starting for research precisely? Because I still have connections and I can still use them." She takes a moment to funningly buff her nails on her sleeve and observe them while she adds, most cavalierly, "It's what one gets for having a black belt in charming." Le wink.

Ravn nods. "I haven't met the fellow more than him ignoring my presence completely. But please note, I'm not saying he's not an asshole now. A hundred years stuck in a room, trying to atone for something he didn't even think was wrong? He's bitter and probably more than a little crazy. We just need to remember that he wasn't a villain or a criminal when he took the artefacts, and he wasn't hiding them out of guilt or fear of discovery. More likely he stashed them because he couldn't get the price he wanted and he wanted to keep them for when he could."

"I try and avoid the library too," Una admits. "For all I know, there's dozens of useful books in there, and I've just never bothered to look at them, because--" She shudders, only a little theatrical.

"Right. Okay-- yes, that's a good reminder. All of that." It's clear that Una is not particularly fond of thinking about her ancestor as a fully formed person, with good sides and bad sides and motives for his evil deeds; she frowns, but she nods, too.

"Research-wise... I want to find out where the Irvings lived before Oak Avenue. Millie implied they were somewhere temporary for a few years, after there was a big fire; I assume the temporary is this place I found in the census, but I haven't yet found out where the old place was. We know, too, that they were involved in an early attempt at a historical society; and Della found an inventory, in Addington House, so there's some connection there, but I don't know what."

Ariadne tilts her head.

"Okay, just so I'm hearing you right: you've got a place found in the census, but it's not a listed address? Or it is, but the property doesn't exist anymore? And there's potentially more at Addington House due to this inventory Della found?" she asks, curious despite herself.

"There's a lot of threads we can pursue there, in this reality." Ravn nods his agreement. "I'll bet you that with a map and someone who's into colonial settlement history and architecture, we can work out roughly when Oak Avenue first happened, even if none of the original houses are standing. Gray Harbor was a large and famous lumber port. There are more eyewitness accounts of daily life here than most small towns -- and these towns do tend to follow a similar history when it comes to how they fractal out."

He glances at his watch and then murmurs, "Bloody hell. I'm running late for a video call. I'll have to catch you two later for further plotting. Let me see if I can find someone in the academic world who's got a passion for early American towns too, while I'm at it."

The historian leans over and takes Ariadne's hand a moment. "Sorry to sneak up on and then dash. I'll see you tomorrow." And then he's gone.

Something in Ravn's words draws another frown from Una, but she holds off on that thought in order to lift a hand after the departing Dane. And, then, as she glances back at Ariadne: "He's getting better at this, isn't he? Taking your hand. It's so cute."

She lets that hang for a moment, then adds, "I've got a place in the census, but it's the temporary place, I think, and I'm more interested in the place that burned down. Was it on Oak, and the house that's there now replaced it? Or was it elsewhere? And--" She shakes her head. "The inventory implied some items had been returned to 'AI', and I have to assume, given it basically jumped out at Della... AI, Albert Irving. And it bit her. It was full of fear. I don't know, but it seems like... if they had something, then maybe there's more? I have no idea. Any ideas?"

"Have fun videoing! Remember to not pick your nose!" she calls after Ravn quietly. Like he'd do this, but Ariadne's grinning to herself while she turns her attention back to Una.

"He is getting better, yeah. It's very delightful." A shimmy of pleasure at the simplicity of such a gesture anyhow. "It's the little things." But back to the topic of research. "Oh, okay, the place which burnt down isn't in the census, I gotcha. Well...hmm. Wait."

A beat. "The inventory bit Della? Like a biting book out of Harry Potter?"

Una, too, can't help but grin for that, but the smile she gives Ariadne afterwards is merely fond and pleased. "I'm so glad," she says, quietly genuine.

"Mm-- more like, emotionally, I think? She touched it, and she felt something off of it. Anger and fear, I think, but I'm not sure. Like a resonance? But whatever was returned, it was crossed out, so I'm not sure what it was. If it was relevant."

"Oh." Quiet understanding. Ariadne then frowns and sits properly on the table now, leaned back with both hands. It lets her legs dangle and these sway back at forth at no particular speed or cadence.

"Hmm. So a mystery item in a book full of anger and fear and a place which burnt down so there's no record of an address anymore. I'd say check back farther than the dates listed in case there's been some past mention of the address before it disappeared -- and if anything, see if there are any pawn shop records dating from the time period where someone might have acquired a mysterious item and the property burnt down soon after? Curses aren't so out of possibility here...not with stuff like what was hoarded." The barista then shakes her head. "It's a mess, but we'll figure it out. You'll get answers, we'll get answers, and maybe some ghosts will be put to rest for once instead of stirred up more."

Ariadne's confidence makes Una smile, though it's still a little rueful. "Right," she agrees. "I hadn't thought of that. Curses, yes. And more research. There must be earlier references to the address... I mean, maybe? And maybe there's something more I can find in the library at home."

She squares her shoulders, giving a much more decisive nod. "We've got this. We'll find something."

For now? More census records. More old street directories. There's bound to be something here.