2022-06-26 - Common Ground

Since the masquerade ball, Ava has basically vanished from Oak Avenue. Every now and then someone will stop by her place to grab something using a key, but it's never her. Signs have been put up around the Greenhouse warning nobody to enter. Other than that, 1 Oak Ave is still and quiet. Ava herself has made appearances in a couple of Dreams, has been noted as making apologies around town, but has been also, otherwise, quiet.

Until a text comes through Una's phone mid-day on Saturday asking her to meet in the park. Whether she shows up or not is up to the red head. Ava is already there with Nimue in a stroller. The woman is strangely dressed down in jeans and a tank top, but the heels show that she's not totally lost her mind. The brunette is parked on a bench with a coffee cup in hand, nudging the stroller back and forth as she murmurs quietly to the baby inside.

Una's never been much good at reaching out to anyone, and that's especially true in this case: conflict is not really her thing, except when it comes to quiet disapproval and disappointment (and that is not something she's likely to reach out with, let's be honest). It's made for a long and somewhat fraught few weeks; so it goes.

There's no immediate response to that text when it arrives, nor is there a read notification to see-- at first. Texts-on-lock-screens are a useful thing, though, and prompt a flurry of communication in the background: eventually, however, there's that read confirmation, and following it, a quick reply in the affirmative. She'll be there.

Equally dressed down, in jeans and a t-shirt, it would be easy to assume that the redhead is reluctant to face Ava alone, because she's brought company; that wouldn't really be true, but appearances are what they are. The pink of her cheeks probably has more to do with the season than any flush, but the seriousness of her expression? That's all Una.

Nothing out of the ordinary about said company; it's Ava's neighbour on Oak Avenue, appearing his usual sombre self -- though at least the heat means the usual turtleneck has been swapped for a t-shirt with the print, "Instant Historian; Just Add Coffee."

Why him? Maybe he was just closest by. It wouldn't be the first time Ravn got appointed somebody's emotional support folklorist. Maybe he was going this way anyway. Maybe he's got nothing else he needs to do be doing. Maybe for once the Veil hasn't cast him in the role of reluctant priest somewhere.

The reply that she'd be there is enough to relax Ava a hair. But it adds a whole new, different, sort of tension. She just tries to cope with it through quiet conversation with the blue baby in the stroller.

Spotting Una down the way, her coffee cup is lifted in semi-casual greeting, but without any kind of smile. After all, this is an apology, not a casual meetup. But spotting the fact that Ravn is with her seems to cause a twitch in her brows. Maybe there's an offense taken that Una felt the need to have to bring someone else along. Maybe feelings are hurt. But whatever it is, whatever openness there was in Ava's expression is suddenly locked up tight in a flicker of a second.

"It's not what it looks like," blurts Una, immediate and apologetic-- and now, she's flushing for real. There's an apology in her expression, aimed first at Ava and Nimue, and then at Ravn beside her. She comes to a quick stop alongside the bench, hands clasping each other awkwardly behind her back. Maybe she's only just realised what this might look like; it's too late for that.

At least the discomfort seems genuine.

"I just wanted to make the most of the opportunity. I'm sorry, if that's made anything worse."

And that's when it dawns on Ravn as well what this probably looks like. He finds himself putting a step of distance between himself and Una before he manages to stop himself. After all, the last thing either need in their life is that kind of rumour complicating matters further.

He roots around in a pocket and occupies gloved hands for a few, finding and lighting a cigarette (and making certain to be downwind of Nimue because blue kids probably don't benefit from tobacco smoke either). Awkward and wishing he was somebody else has a name, and its name is Abildgaard.

There's a slow blink, Ava's eyes drifting between the two of them. Her head inclines in understanding a moment later. "It's alright. Even if you had brought him with you, I couldn't exactly blame you, could I? It's not like I was myself the last time you saw me and I'd honestly rather you be safe than spare my feelings." That sounds more like the Ava of old, than the weird, carefree one from the masquerade.

"I just... it's an apology. I always felt that those were sort of a private thing. But, it's alright." The woman sighs heavily, her eyes moving to the bench. "Did you want to sit down?"

"I know you're sorry," says Una, simply. She takes the offered seat, hesitating for a moment-- then gives Ravn a quick gesture: just a moment, maybe. The hand is drawn back to her lap, clasping the other, as she turns her attention towards Ava. "And I know you're... doing better." It's cautious and careful, not especially accusatory, and it's clear that it makes the redhead terribly uncomfortable to be reacting that way.

"And I'm glad of that, too. I know you weren't in your right mind; I know none of it was intentional. I was angry, and hurt, and I'm doing my best to let that go, because I don't think it's especially helpful right now. I just need to know... what happens next, I suppose. And that's why Ravn's here, because-- well, we can get to that."

She hesitates, giving Ava an appraising glance.

Ravn nods at Una's little gesture. The tall Dane wanders a few paces off, just long enough to not be within earshot. He wasn't asked along to eavesdrop on private conversations, and he has no particular desire to do so.

"Knowing that I'm sorry, and actually getting a proper apology are two different things." Eyes move from Nimue to Una and settle there. "I really am sorry, Una. Even if I was under the influence at the time, I wasn't when I planted them in the greenhouse not knowing what effect they would have. I thought it would create different kinds of creatures, but I didn't take into account what else might happen. I didn't do this safe enough because I was too excited. It was foolish and it hurt people."

"I tried to get you to hurt people with me. That wasn't okay. I'm sorry I put that kind of pressure on you. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Because you were right about not planting those seeds in the Greenhouse from the beginning. I should have been a lot more careful."

There's a glance towards Ravn, then Una again. "You mean with the fruit? It's going to be destroyed. It has to be taken out down to the root, but, um, carefully for reasons. Joe has plans for it, but he ate a fruit a little belatedly despite himself and we had to wait for what happened to him to wear off." It's offered loud enough so that Ravn can hear.

"I know," says Una, very gently. "And truly, I'm grateful to hear it from you. I'm not going to say that it's fine, because it's clearly not. But I think..."

She breaks off, hesitatingly glancing at Ravn, at Ava, then off into the distance for a few moments, apparently trying to put her words together. "I'm glad your friend is going to try and take care of it. That's good news, and obviously, if there's something we can do to help, I know we'd be happy to." 'We' clearly includes Ravn, but may not be limited to him, particularly when she adds, "We have to stick together. The community. And that means... forgiving each other when we make mistakes, and then trying to make things better. We've been talking. a bit."

More hesitation. Another glance at Ravn. "We think we all made a mistake, in encouraging the fae."

"By which Irving means that I am going to remove that faerie circle from my lawn." Ravn hitches a shoulder and maintains his distance. Does that force him -- and the others -- to speak a little louder in order to be heard? Yes. It also allows the women the privacy of the conversation that seems to be quite private. He is a lot of things; an eavesdropper is not one of them.

That news seems to cause a slight war across Ava's face, her eyes drifting back towards the blue baby in the carrier. "I think it's a good idea," she agrees. "I just hope that they don't get too pissed off by it. Is there a way we can get them to agree to close the gate themselves, do you think? So it doesn't end on bad terms?"

Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth. "I still have to figure out where Nimue belongs, and I think the fae are a key to that. I don't want to burn that bridge if I can avoid it."

This time, Una gestures towards Ravn: come closer. Conversation's open, now.

"No, no, of course. The last thing I would want to do is prevent Nimue from getting back to her people, or at least knowing where she's from and why. We thought to do some research, to do it... properly and nicely, because no, the last thing we want to do is to burn the bridges and cause an issue. Release them from the agreement, with severance. There's still a faerie ring across the road, so they won't be completely gone, and-- and--"

Una runs out of words temporarily, hand fluttering uncomfortably. "I also don't want it to interfere at all with your getting rid of the plants. On the other hand, it could help, maybe? If there were less fae energy about?"

"And Petra has demonstrated many times before that he comes and goes as he likes, whether there is a faerie circle or not. The question is what to do about the damn nightmares, if we ever catch them." Ravn takes a couple of steps towards the others; possibly in order to not sound like a complete loon to the young couple passing by with a stroller over there. "But what people do with faerie somewhere else, and what bargains they strike with them, is not my business, and I don't intend to make it so."

Ava considers them both and nods quietly as she considers it all. Less fae energy may actually help with the fruits. I don't know, honestly. Or it could make things worse. But, I'll talk to Joe about getting them taken care of more quickly not that he's back to himself, so that it's not something we have to worry about. It would be nice to be able to go back and forth from my own house freely again, even if I am enjoying where I'm staying at the moment."

Right, the Nightmares. "Can they only be returned through a faerie circle? Or can they be sent through a Veil door as well?"

Una's hand falls automatically towards her phone, tucked into the pocket of her jeans; it's been six months, now, and she's still carrying around the tiny rope made from virgin's hair, just in case it becomes necessary. She doesn't ask about where Ava is staying, presently, and instead focuses on the rest of the conversation, chewing her lip in thoughtful consideration.

"If he thinks it'll be a problem," she says, "let us know, I guess? Or if it'll help. I don't know. I appreciate it's difficult to know any of this. It's largely uncharted territory, isn't it? That's the problem. It's the same with the Nightmares. I don't think we really know what is involved with that, aside from... virgin hair, cold iron, that kind of thing. They've not, at least, been seen lately, that I know of."

"The only one who knows how the nightmares work is Petra, I suspect." Ravn has no desire to ask where Ava is staying either -- and it's arguably none of his damned business, either. Maybe he assumes that she's staying with her boyfriend or family in town. Maybe he was unaware until now that she isn't staying in her home, given that he is staying on his boat down on the marina. "But I want that circle off my lawn before it creates more problems. If somebody wants to convince the faerie to move it to theirs, fine by me, none of my business."

"Virgin hair? Well, mine is out." Ava strokes a hand down along that dark hair of hers. It's supposed to be a joke, but the laughter in her tone isn't quite there. "Cold iron is probably a little easier, but it seems messed up to hurt them if they aren't hurting anyone. Unless their mere existence over here is hurting people. Then there's an issue." Another heavy sigh. "I guess we just try what we can and see what works if we come across them? If they can go through a Veil door, good."

Ravn gets an odd look. "I don't think anyone is suggesting moving the circle. Just closing it on good terms."

"I think," Una puts in carefully, "Ravn's saying that if it were helpful to you, to invite the faeries into your yard instead, he's not going to stop you, that's all. But I get the impression you don't want to do that either. Either way."

She presses her hands together more tightly in her lap and says, "I have some virgin hair, so we're tentatively covered there, assuming I'm around. I know how to get more, if we need it. But-- yeah. I suspect if it all becomes necessary, if they show up again, the pieces will be in place. It'll be fine. More importantly for now..."

She swallows, hard. "We need to make sure we're all on the same side. Listening to each other. Communicating. Trusting each other. We're going to be able to do that, right? Going forward?"

Ravn draws on his cigarette, still making certain that he's not accidentally wafting smoke in the direction of the child. "I've made inquiries about town. I know a few people who can provide virgin hair -- as long as we go by the medieval dogmatic definition of 'virgin'. If the faerie update their modus operandi, then I guess we're just out of luck on that one, unless we want to start scalping the braids of young schoolgirls."

He nods slightly at Una. "And yes, I am saying that I don't tell other people what to do, and if somebody wants to keep their garden faerie, it's none of my business."

"Gotcha. I don't think moving them one yard over is really going to end up making much of a difference in the end. If we want to discourage what's been happening, then the circle has to actually be closed. Otherwise it's just moving the problem, rather than ending it." That seems to be Ava's thoughts on the matter, anyway.

"Let's hope they've stuck with the old fashioned version of virgin, then, shall we? The other option seems kind of horrible." Ava rubs the back of her neck just thinking about that.

"Are you suggesting I've ever not been on the same side?" Not an accusation, but an earnest question.

There's a lot that Una could say; on the subject of virgin hair, perhaps, on the subject of faerie rings; on any number of things. She falters, though.

"No!" She's quick, so quick, to answer that last one, flushing distinctly as she does so. It may not be accusation, but it hits close to home anwyay. "That's not what I was saying. But... it felt a little like the Veil was using the whole situation to sew division. And what I'm trying to say is... how can we make sure we don't fall into that trap? The faerie circle, even; using it to grow our gardens, that was ridiculous, and we should never have fallen into that. But we did. The same with the Veil fruit, I think. And then we let that fester."

She presses her hands flat upon her knees, now. "I just want to make sure there are no bad feelings left, so that we can move on, and do better, next time. All of us. Because if we don't stand together, we're lost."

Ravn finishes his cigarette and tucks the butt away in a pocket; he's never been one to just drop them on the ground. "I'm going to quote somebody who once had to explain this to me. There are people who work for the Veil willingly. They think that as long as they help toss some other sucker to the demons every now and then, they're safe themselves. That it's an acceptable price to pay. They're dangerous. But the truly dangerous people are those who don't realise that they are taking orders from the dolorphages. Trust is fragile."

It was a quick no, which seems to have staved off some of the concern, but hints of anxiety are still playing behind Ava's eyes. Her head bobs in agreement before she takes a long sip of coffee while she listens to Una's assessment of things. "I'll always stand with you," she assures. "And now that our healing has been altered, I'll be a little more effective, as well. So I'll be more useful." Which should please people.

A frown etches deep across her expression. "Yeah." Firm agreement. "I don't think I have ever felt more violated or used than I did when I woke up with a clear head and realized what I'd done to basically half the town."

"... So that dream was real." It's not the most important point, but Una, eyes wide, can't help but linger on it for a moment: she seems caught between discomforted and relieved, apparently unable to determine which way she intends to fall. Can't it be both? Sometimes it can't really be both.

It's a brief digression, though, and after a moment more, she refocuses upon what is very much the more important part of the conversation. "I can't imagine," she agrees. "And I'm sorry for it; that you had to feel that. You're going to make sure that nothing like that happens again, right? As much as you can? Because-- we all need that. To do that, I mean. And to trust it. Not just you. Everyone. I want to be able to trust that we're all viewing things as clearly as we can. I hate, I really hate, worrying over everyone."

Ravn says nothing to that. Maybe Una already said anything he had to say on the subject. He simply looks at Ava, waiting to see what she's going to respond.

"With the Vivisectionist? It was real. You were there?" It was pretty packed, so Una might have slipped her notice. "The whole thing was probably the most wild Dream that I have ever, and will ever experienced in all of my life."

"Karma." Ava says with that same frown in place. "I'm sure some folks feel like I had it coming for messing around with that stuff in the first place. There's a time and a place for experimenting with things. The Greenhouse in a faerie garden in my backyard was neither. I wasn't safe or smart. I will be doing everything in my power to make sure nothing like that happens again."

She sighs down to her coffee cup. "I already talked to Jules about all of this, too. Gave her my apology. Ran through my thoughts." So the reassurances she is offering are at least not a new thing. They've been something she's thought through.

"No," says Una, shaking her head. "I wasn't there. I just... dreamed about it. I can't imagine what it must have been like to actually experience it. That's why I wasn't sure if it was real or not."

Once again, she's slower to respond to the rest, and perhaps that's for the best: she's giving it due consideration, weighing up Ava's words without immediate judgement or unquestioning acceptance. "Ok," is what she says, finally, and with a certain firmness to it. "Ok. I believe you. And you'll... listen, when other people question things? I don't mean do what people tell you. I know I'm, for one, more cautious than most people, and I would just say no regardless, probably. But..."

Other people. More balanced people.

"A number of people had the kangaroo dream. All of them people who are healers, fire lovers, or growers of things. Or all three." Ravn hitches a shoulder. He is none of those, and never dreamt a thing. He's heard about it from Una, from Ariadne, from Finch, though -- and probably from others at the HOPE Centre.

He rummages for another cigarette; a micro-tell, perhaps, that the Dane is not particularly comfortable being part of this conversation in the first place. "I do not believe in karma. And I don't believe in telling others what to do." He shrugs. "And I've been told often enough I'm so vanilla dull that my opinion doesn't matter, anyway. But doing better next time is all anyone can do."

"It was something else," Ava offers with slightly wide eyes. "I know that I couldn't have taken her, but the urge to just light the Vivisectionist on fire was very real. Yet, I still found myself begging for her life at the end." Because you can't change who you are at the end. She might hate certain people, but she's not a killer. It just isn't in her.

"I will," Ava agrees. "That was part of my talk with Jules. At least two people have to agree that it's a good idea. One of them has to be someone who tends towards caution more than not. Maybe not to your degree, but someone who will still say 'no, this is stupid'. If I can't get two, it doesn't go forward. If it does go forward, we have to agree on the safest course of action, and a safe location where it would affect the least amount of people. Nowhere near homes or businesses."

"That's an asshole thing to say to a person. So don't listen to them," Ava tells Ravn with a shake of her head. "Your opinion is just as valid as anyone's."

Una shoots Ravn a glance, the kind that is disapproving, but elects not to comment on it further; Ava's comment, it seems, is enough for her.

"But she's out of the game for now, right?" she says instead, leaning forward slightly. "A lot of the details faded afterwards. It's like I can remember bits, but just... not enough to be sure. No more post-its?"

Slower is her nod in answer to Ava's explanation of her control plan. "Okay," is what she says, finally. "And... you're not going to stay away from the rest of us, right? We can... put this aside and move on?"

"I wouldn't count any Veil entity out even if dead. This one has been killed several times, after all." Ravn draws on the cigarette, and lets smoke curl from his lip. "But she got beaten badly, it seems. And the healers are happy. So not all things end poorly here, even if it feels like it sometimes."

"Ash drained her like nothing I've seen before. I imagine she'll be out of it for a while. So no post it notes for now. But Ravn's right. Apparently she's died at least twice before. So there's no way she's out of the game for good. I asked for her to get turned back into a human, but it didn't seem possible. We asked for the people we tried to help to still get helped, too."

She glances to Ravn. "I know that you aren't broken, but I did ask for you to have a little better control over your pain. Is there any chance that actually happened?" Her eyes scan over him quietly.

Una's question surprises her. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but whatever it was is swallowed back a second later. "I imagine things will go back to the way they were before the fruits happened," she assures with a brief smile.

"Victory for team humanity," murmurs Una, albeit a little tepidly.

She doesn't have a comment on the rest of what Ava asked for, in that oddest of Dreams, though her gaze flicks towards Ravn thoughtfully.

Nor does she seem to have missed how her question has surprised the other woman, or what has been swallowed back. Perhaps she draws conclusions of her own, because her expression turns-- just for a moment-- mulish... and then softens. "Okay," she says, simply. "Good."

"I have not noticed any changes. I have also not experimented, because I have not expected any changes." Ravn nods shortly; thirty-two years of learning to avoid situations that will inflict pain, and he's become quite good at it. "I have also been a bit preoccupied, I'll admit. I will keep an eye out."

Ava nods to Ravn. "I won't get my hopes up, but my fingers are crossed."

There's a quiet, anxious energy around the brunette as she gazes down to the barrier carrier, nudging it forward and back as Nimue coos from inside. "Do you want me to text you guys as soon as the fruits and roots are destroyed?"

Yeah: Una's not oblivious to that anxious energy, though she likely doesn't have a theory about its source. Her own gaze drops towards Nimue-- she's grown so much!-- but she keeps her words simple. "Yes, please. And we'll keep you informed about the faerie ring. It should be fine. Everything will go back to normal. I'm going to miss my yard, but..."

She shrugs. "It should never have gone this long anyway. And it's summer. The yard will look nice anyway."

"The yards are still nice," Ravn murmurs. "And I don't know about you, but I'm hiring some landscaping service."

He glances from one woman to the other, catching on that something is still not being communicated, or if it is, it's being directed around him.

Nimue has grown maybe a surprising amount. Just a little bit too big for how short a time it's been. She's either eating really well, or growing faster than normal. Considering that she's not a human child, what's really normal? "I'd say that I am technically a landscaping service, but I keep getting scolded for using my powers too much for things that I don't need to, so I suppose I could just pay someone to do it for me." It seems to annoy Ava, because she could do it so much easier herself. Not to mention faster. But she's trying to listen better.

Has Una twigged as to how big Nimue is? If so, she doesn't comment.

"In theory," she agrees, "so am I, to a point. But that's how we started with that whole mess, and... I'm going to put some money back in the local economy and hire someone. I think it's safer for everyone. And I'm going to try and start my business, and see if I can bake things for money, seeing as I won't be baking so much for the fae. I'm going to use this all as a reason to... do some things differently."

At least that line of her shoulders has softened a little. "As long as the Doors can leave me alone, things are going to be okay."

"Bloody well wish they would," Ravn murmurs quietly. "Some of those trips have been -- disturbing. Don't think there's anything wrong in giving your garden a little helpful nudge, though. I know August Roen does to his plants, and they seem fine enough. Maybe there is some kind of balance. Either way, I'm not one to preach because I absolutely use my powers frivolously -- fetching and carrying things, and so on."

He glances down as his phone buzzes in his pocket. A look at it and then a shrug. "I'm going to have to bail on you. Apparently, my cat is eating another gremlin and it's upsetting the owner of the next boat over."

And that's him off at a -- fast walk because Ravn does not run lest it triggers his asthma.

"Starting a business? I'm proud of you, that sounds like a great idea." For all of Ava's anxiety and general gloom, the warmth and pride that she offers in the smile for Una is genuine. "You'll do wonderfully."

Mention of August gets a nod. "He grew the figs, too, without too much issue. I'd love to be able to pick his brain more." Her hand lifts towards the retreating Ravn. "Give her a treat for me."

"I've only had trouble with a door once, but I did end up stuck in the twenties for three days, and Javier ended up having to look after Nimue for three days, having no idea where I was."

"I hope so," Una says, a little bashfully. "We'll see. I have to try."

She watches after Ravn, silent aside from the acknowledgement of her lifted hand. It's the mention of that name, perhaps, more than anything else, that draws her attention back, though her expression is nothing more than thoughtful, and her comment? "Oh, that sucks. For all of you. I haven't been stuck, per se. I did end up watching the final hours of Pompeii through my doorway, though, and that was unpleasant. And--"

Other things, too, perhaps even less pleasant, but not to be talked about (aside from the dark flush of her cheeks). "I thought they were fun, at first. But they're not, not really. It's worse than Dreams."

"Oh no." It's the mention of Pompeii that has her covering her mouth in horror. "I can't imagine how awful that was, knowing what it was." A shiver runs down her spine. "I'm not sure how I would have handled that one, to be honest." That dark flush draws her attention, but Ava knows well enough not to harp on it and make it worse for Una.

"Some of them might be fun. Depending on where you end up and who you're with. But they're more intense. And the fact that you can just walk right into them? It's so much more terrifying." Nimue is starting to fuss, and no amount of the back and forth pushing seems to be doing it for her anymore. "Sorry, that's her water-time cry. She's been wanting baths more and more lately. I should probably get back. Thank you for meeting with me, though. It was nice seeing you."

"It was-- bad," agrees Una. And though perhaps she could say more, she's saved by Nimue, though the reason for that cry draws a little furrowed brow and a frown. Well. Nimue always was a little unusual.

"Poor thing. No, of course. It was-- good to see you too, Ava. Don't be a stranger, okay? Even if you're not right next door. Let me know if you need anything." Her head's lifted as she says that, gaze aimed directly at Ava, eye to eye. She's serious. Determined, too, somehow.

Ava reaches out to squeeze Una's hand, softly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

She stands up a moment later, offering a fairly lopsided smile as Una locks eyes with her. "Alright," she relents in earnest. "I promise that I will. But the same goes for you, okay?" With that, she gives a faint nod and starts to nudge the stroller off towards where she parked the car.

There's a tiny little smile of acknowledgement for the squeeze of her hand, but Una's serious, otherwise: acknowledging Ava with a slow dip of her chin. "I promise," she agrees, letting that follow the other woman away.

And Una? She'll stay on that bench a while longer, just sitting. Lots to think about.