undergrounds | the boos and the bees [closed to willard and clara] [backdated to the 22nd]

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the boos and the bees [closed to willard and clara] [backdated to the 22nd]

It was a perfectly ordinary end to a perfectly ordinary day in old London town. The sky was cloudy, the birds were singing, people were happily chatting amongst themselves as they wrapped up their daily business, and all was well.

Or, almost all. On the winding streets of Harrow this afternoon, one random asshole appears to be holding an argument with himself, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he's earning from passers-by. However, the narrative also refuses to consider him as a valid point of view, and the focus shifts instead to the unsettling chill lingering on the sidewalk in his wake, endangering the half-lit streetlamps out of sheer annoyance.

Today was a bad lightbulb day, apparently. Many weep at the incoming hike of electrical prices.

"--and being unconscious for two days is still ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I don't get why you think that's okay." So, maybe Aradia's been circling this particular topic for the past twenty minutes, but her point is clearly the sensible one. All she has to do is repeat it enough times for it to sink in past Mystery Dude's dumbass skull and she's won.

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Ignore that above narrative, it's uneducated and rude and stupid. Just like this argument has been going back and forth over pointless annoyances because neither party refuses to give way, the narrative is immediately confiscated from the Ghost Girl. She doesn't deserve the narrative. It's too good for her. It deserves better.

And maybe the narrative could admit that yes, Aradia has a point. However, the fact she's been circling it for twenty minutes immediately makes her an asshole. Logic invalidated.

"And I've told you, repeatedly, it's fine." The definition of 'fine' is that he is awake, aware, and ambulatory. Let it be known that no consideration is given to the fact he looks like reheated death because, note, appearance is not one of the alliterative adjectives given in the above allegory-

The narrative is immediately cut off by the nearest street lamp shattering, and Will himself making a noise that is probably given to the last strand of patience finally beginning to fray, "And will you calm down already?!"

--And this is why you never wander in in medias res if you're not a principal player of any narrative ever.

Why? Because things get confusing really quick and really fast that's why.

She had phased out of a nearby shop when she heard the streetlamp shatter, knowing there was any spirit in the vicinity given how the lamps here were reinforced with new and improved lightbulbs due to her constant presence here at Harrow over the decade. So it took either a lot of faulty wiring or an angry ghost to get them to break.

It seems to be the former when she catches not one but two familiar faces outside when she began looking for the source. At first she's elated to see them but then she remembers why she's here and Willard looks irritable and Aradia looks annoyed and she just looks plain lost as she heads to the duo and hopes the staring passerby move on and remember either A) they have somewhere to go or B) there are several more lamps around them that haven't popped. Yet.

"Willard? Aradia?" What's going on here?

She'd been waiting for him to finally bicker back, honestly, but the immediate intensity was past what she'd expected. Which just grew worse when the lightbulb gave way under ethereal buttmad, a prelude to Aradia's own temper snapping like elastic under the strain of sheer stupidity. "There's no way this'd ever count as fine--"

--except a new voice breaks in, and it's so unexpected that another lamp is sacrificed to the eldritch gods of cranky poltergeists in the blink of an eye. Poor pedestrians, they never asked for this. It was a pleasant day until the grumpy brigade showed up.

"Clara?" There's a cloud of auburn curls fogging the air as Aradia whips around to stare at the other ghost, conversation and other mentioned name completely forgotten in the face of startled confusion. "I-- um. Hi."

Clara is like an immediate heat sink; she can watch the exact moment that imposing presence rises up with his posture and dissolves into nothing at the name. It's an anchor in a way - no matter how close to the line Ghost Girl's pushing him, he's not Wright. Not now. It's Willard. It's a purely instinctive snap to switch to the assigned role and the weird cat-reflecting eyes close.

There's a sharp sigh of an exhale and both gloved hands are immediately shoved in his overcoat. The short bow Clara gets is the same greeting she always does, one Aradia never gets, and composure immediately resumes.

Which means Ghost Girl's the wrong one here. Obviously. "Good evening, Clara. Sorry for the disruptions."

She startles at the exploding lightbulb but thankfully she doesn't explode one herself. It just gets colder is all as she regains her wits.

"Disru..." She smiles at them with some worry on her features still, waving her hand away to ensure them she isn't angry at either of them. "I-It isn't a problem for me. Don't worry about it! I'm not going to get affected by this."

For others on the other hand... She looks back at the people who are now trying to go back to their own business after the second lamp blows up in a sudden flare of emotions and angry ghosts. They're more or less rushing away from what they clearly believe is imminent danger and she sighs. At this rate she's quite sure the entire district of Harrow will be considered 'cursed' in terms of lamps. She hopes that doesn't bring in more Ghostbusters than usual. She just shook one off yesterday.

"If you don't mind me asking: Why are you two fighting out here?" That's what she wants to know the most because Willard was usually so composed and Aradia was usually so calm. Seeing them... not be that is a bit of a shock. "You two know each other?"

While she was definitely confused to start with, it's only gotten worse as the conversation progresses, anger abandoned to watch the complete switch of Mystery Dude's personality at Clara's arrival. Because he's making no sense, suddenly polite and stuffy and it's another possible landmine to avoid but she can't tell the cause and what.

There's lasers being bored into Will's skull, courtesy of Aradia. Why is he being weird today, she's so sure it's tied to whatever caused his midnight meltdown, and-- "We're not fighting. He's just being an idiot."

Admittedly, a heartbeat later it sinks in that that was probably too far again, but she's in too deep now. This is apparently the mountain she re-dies on. Funeral tickets will start being sold at the attendance booth out front for half price in half an hour. But it's softened a tad, even if only towards Clara, because she's an innocent in all this. "But I didn't realize this was near your Haunt, sorry. I'll try to be more careful."

If she gets more wannabe exorcists on Clara's tail because of her stupid temper, she'll never live it down. Mostly because she'd do her part to drive them off herself.

There is not even a second guess at the reflex, one arm shooting out and immediately socks Ghost Girl right in the arm. Aradia herself can have a moment to be silently confused over how she felt that, but he's already moving on. "We're acquaintances."

Anyone with two eyes could decipher it as either 'friends' or 'mutual hissy co-agitators', so in either case the term acquaintances just doesn't work. Yet, it's just delivered with such a wave of certainty there's no room to question it. Or time, since he steamrolls right along into the next topic. There's no problems here. No problems at all.

"If your unwanted visitors get more frequent, let me know. Didn't mean for this, so I'll take care of it." There is some kind of edge to the tone that adds on the instinctive reaction of don't let him take care of it. But this is all in your head, obviously. No problems at all.

"No no no no!" It's directed at them both, waving her hands back and forth that really! It's fine! No need to worry about her haunting territories and no need to take care of anything. Period. She's rather worried that something worse will come out of it for those two if they tried anything. "I'll survive. I've been doing this for ten years and I'll be doing it for another ten years, I'm sure."

--Which is depressing in retrospect but she decides to not comment on it. She wants to focus on them right now. "If you two would like to continue your discussions somewhere maybe I could suggest somewhere more... private?"

And with less lamps because she's sure the poor people from transportation will have their work cut for them already? That's a plus in her opinion. "The coffee place is nearby. It's locked since they closed up early but I know how to open it from the inside now. The security system isn't something to worry about too. Just meant for the counter so long as we don't touch it, we'll be fine."

When you're a ghost who practically lives in one place, you notice a lot of things about your haunting ground to stave off boredom.

Wow rude that was her arm, wait how did that even--

Aradia misses a good chunk of context due to staring at her arm in confusion, but she does hear the casual dismissal and there's a matching not-quite-flinch to go with it. She's not hurt, really. She should be happy. With how frequently she insists that she can't impact anything, having that confirmed should be a good thing, but instead the odd feeling that's been following her all day grows worse and the world slips a little bit more out of focus.

Distantly, the coffee shop registers as a thing being mentioned, and she does her best to tune back into the conversation. She was totally paying attention, what. "I still can't work out why they never updated the alarms. It's useful for stuff like this, but still. Isn't that risky?"

There is a kneejerk instinct of 'no it's breaking in it's not allowed its forbidden' - but the thought is grabbed and executed. Don't think of it like it belongs to the current owners. It's Clara's haunt, it used to be her home anyway, it's Clara's, it's Clara's. Just keep that same short sentence running over and over and it'll be fine. Clara's invitation should stick. Assuming she gives it- Don't think about it.

Inhale, exhale. The composure Clara's used to is fraying at the edges to match the strung-out appearance, but he makes a valiant effort nonetheless, "I'd be the only one at risk."

And both ghosts can immediately guess how much he cares: not at all. Coffee shop after closing, why not, nothing terrible could go wrong at all- block it off. It's only after stating it does (~~Aradia~~ that's cheating) Ghost Girl get a glance. Zoned out for a bit there, but she seems okay now? Ghosts, so difficult to read, so irritating at times like this.

The pointed stare is the 'you had better be all right' she always gets, always silent and never verbal, then the apathy is directed back to Clara. "If you're sure there's no alarms to go off," paired with one shoulder stilted in an attempt at shrugging. "Go for it."

"They do have the money for better everything, really, but thanks to me over the years, they think the wiring in the shop is impossible to fix." A sheepish expression takes over her, feeling bad that she more or less made the owner throw in the towel on making the shop more modernised beyond new coffee machines and decent internet.

At least it has a unique (if hazardous) charm to it...?

Oh! Right. The cops could get involved if they're not careful. She looks at Willard and gives her biggest and most comforting smile. Sometimes she forgets that people can't go invisible and phase through walls to get out of trouble if someone comes there way. She really needs to keep that in mind these days. "I promise! You won't get in trouble while we're there. It'll only take a few minutes to get the front door opened. They never did bother to change the key's hiding place in the last five years.

"Hang on--" Clara turns towards the shop and is quick to enter it, going through a wall to go through a row of mugs that were decorated on a stand next to the counter. To a normal person, the sight of a key floating out of a coffee mug would have been strange.

To Willard and Aradia, however, it must be something considered tame along with the coffee shop's door slowly opening now that she has it unlocked after a few fumbles with the lock and handle. There's an audible creak that isn't there most of the time but Clara has come to accept the fact ghosts doing things makes everything generally spookier than usual.

Mystery Dude's glaring at her, and Aradia's pointedly ignoring it in favour of staring at the door instead. Partially due to stubbornness, partially due to clinging to her newly returned deadpan facade (why is the apathy so hard to hold onto she didn't have this problem a week ago), entirely because looking back would risk it and she's fine. Look how fine she is.

Shut up, it's the best she's got, okay?

"They did the same thing on my block," and that gets a shrug because she's nowhere near as old as Clara, mortals are dumb and lazy. "Wrote off the one I used to live in because it was cheaper then re-fixing everything."

It didn't help, admittedly, that she spent a solid two years wrecking the place, but those are details she refuses to mention. Most people know that already just from seeing it. Verbally reinforcing it does nothing but give them an excuse to scold her about poor life choices, and she drifts inside via wall rather then elaborate. Doors are for chumps. Fight the system.

Edited 2015-06-29 06:52 (UTC)

"They did?" Shows how much he notices. Though now that he thinks about it, there were a bunch of maintenance workers outside complaining about lightbulbs. Maybe? The whole morning was kind of a watercoloured daze, probably just a problem with the transformer, no big deal.

It's only when they both go inside does the distracting mental thread collapse. Okay, the door's open, it's not an explicit permission to enter but it's implicit, that's good enough, right? And even if it's not, he's dodged past that countless times with an endless line of loopholes and half-truths and that abyssal black pit of self that everything feeds off of. The rule of Thou Shalt Not Enter burns like bright pools of red, but ignoring spilled blood has always been one of his talents.

Any other time, it's easy to step over it. Now, the hand hovering near the doorframe freezes. It's a lightning-shock of ice running along unseen burns, and (the ice turns to paresthesias, followed by a mental flatline of refusal to enter, trying to cross the barrier burns until you hit into an invisible pane of glass-) the hand lowers. There's not Enough to defy this.

Dammit, Ghost Girl wins a point. This is unacceptable.

"I can't." Externally, it's with a look of Minor Annoyance with his arms crossed. Internally, Aradia might hear the internal snap of ashamed NO from the very thought of knowing Ghost Girl was right. Saying anything else admitting she's right, but just leaving is rude to Clara, so what's worth more? Being nice to Clara or proving Ghost Girl wrong.

Dammit. The following sentence is now Legitimate Annoyance, "It has to be explicit."

It takes her a second to realise that someone isn't in the shop just yet due to a breeze brushing inside and causing one of the glass wind chime overheard to play its cheerful ditty. It catches her attention from making sure the counter isn't set off by anything yet and she looks over at the door just in time to notice Willard is standing just outside and hear what he's telling her.

She's a bit confused though.

"--Willard?" Oh. What did he mean by explicit... ? Did she do something when opening the door? She knows the shop has had magic thrown around in it over the years thanks to her and others' little mishaps but it never came to mind that it could be a problem for others. Now she's wondering if she did something wrong when opening the door somehow and it's acting up now. Ooooh. She hopes that isn't the case. Last thing she wants to do is cause trouble for the two ehre.

Her brow furrows, trying to make sense of this and comes to the conclusion that he's trying to be careful. In case anyone catches him inside of here. "Of course you can come in! I opened it up for a reason and I've been here longer than anyone else here and I'm planning to stick around. So come inside before you get a chill! Please! Make yourself at home and tell me what you two have been up to today. I'm curious to hear all about it."

Despite Clara's insistence, one can right away tell that there weren't a lot of ways to make one's self comfortable there when they're surrounded by the stacked up tables and neatly arranged piles of chairs and... beanbags? "Those are a new edition. They're supposed to be set up tomorrow. To make this place seem more... trendy, I guess."

Okay. That time?

That time she caught it.

She notices that something's up when he doesn't enter, feeling an odd twinge like someone threw a rock at her back and she immediately attributes it to what she said before and prepares to snap back again, except-- it's not that, those don't last more then a second. Clearly, investigating needs to be done to crack this mystery.

There's a single moment of blessed silence before Aradia sticks her head back through the window to stare blankly at dear Mystery Dude in merciless apathy, and he could choose to be thankful that she doesn't ask why he's stuck outside. No, there's a far more important topic at hand.

"... Your name's Willard?" Feel that disbelief. Feel it, because it's painfully real compared to the empty static she had a minute ago. Her nickname sounded so much better. Though there's also a glimmer of concern buried under the shitposting - he's been weird all day, and now he's being weird at doors. Why.

Edited 2015-06-29 08:20 (UTC)

Positives: the instant Clara says 'come in', it slots right up against the 'this building is Clara's residence' and that impassible barrier immediately drops.

Negatives: Clara's now fretting over his welfare and he can actually feel the cluster of disbeliefwowreallyhaha~~areyoualright~~hahaha what a dumb name confusionamazement that is Ghost Girl's emotions smashing their way through the general white noise of London.

Clara can now see the exact moment there's a neurotic snap right over towards Aradia's severed head, "Shut up! Will. It's Will."

God dammit, this is why he corrects everyone and Clara's the only one who knows his actual full name and the door gets slammed shut behind him in sheer unconscious reflex. Focus on the positives, they didn't ask about the door thing, except he will never hear the end of this. What kind of parent gives a kid that name if they weren't born in the 1800's, honestly now.

Why is he even here why couldn't he just ditch the ghost girl and get back to Hillingdon- Oh right, because being mean to Clara is unacceptable. She knows him as someone who's never snapped at stupid dumb idiot ghost jerks for being stupid dumb idiots and doesn't give way to frivolous emotions. Just as quickly as the anger rises, it's stomped out. Emotions are for those with souls, stop pretending otherwise-

"Sorry again," with all the lack of intonation that's considered the norm. "I have a problem with getting into pointless arguments with the ignorant. Tend to forget it might cause trouble for others."

Because he is not continuing their argument in front of Clara, it's better to just apologize here and the subject gets dropped. That's totally how it works. Yes.

Edited (TYPOS NOOO) 2015-06-29 08:33 (UTC)

One of these days she'll get the hang of this. Whatever 'this' is but she'll learn it and be on the top of things.

You think being a ghost meant no longer feeling the urgent need to watch over people who certainly did not need it at their age/experience/etc. Apparently not as she stares at Willard after his reaction, a little frown on her face at his words.

You think she would be used to it thanks to her years of looking after Tonyo and Kyekye and yet here we are. "First of all: Language! Aradia was just asking you a question is all. There's nothing to be ashamed about your name too. It's a fine one and you should be proud of it.

"--And it must have been a passionate pointless argument too. For you both to have it in public of all places," she adds, her expression bemused as she looks at the two while crossing her arms. Evening or not, there were people out and about in the streets. Whether you can or can't see them. "At least assure me that whatever the issue is, it was resolved before I came in to check on you."

A bit difficult to swear since she had come in to check what on earth had just murdered an innocent lightbulb.

Aradia vanishes back inside when Will (see, she's being nice) snaps at her, though she's unable to keep the waves of glee from bubbling up both from his reaction and Clara's reply. It's not that it's a bad name, per say - a bit old-fashioned (which fits) and ridiculous (which really fits), she's just endlessly amused that this is how she found it out. The Case of Mystery Dude's name is solved. All is well.

Or, it would be if she didn't hear that language crack. There... might be a brief giggle fit there. Oh dear.

"Wasn't resolved." She's already wound her way over to the beanbags by the time she pipes up again, voice still shaky around the edges but this isn't about her screw-ups so it's okay. "Because it's hard to when both sides don't acknowledge it as an issue."

Because if Clara knows him then clearly she knows he's a stubborn shitlord, right? Right.

The language comment gets Clara an entirely blank stare, a lifeless slate statue when its only recourse is taken away. He has worse language, he knows he does, but saying that to Clara is unacceptable. Thankfully, Ghost Girl decides to be a prat, so she gets a death glare boring holes into her skull. It stays perfectly focused in laser precision through her comment, slowly turning into more of a sneer until she finishes.

Yeah. To hell with that. Will himself immediately turns to the opposite side of the room. Beanbags are for asshole ghosts who keep getting on people's cases over pointless and unfounded fears. Be nice in front of Clara, that's rude, don't start executing immortal souls, that's also rude, but he's long since reached his limit of this topic and he's so very very good at keeping calm-

Up until the moment he gets pissed. A mental revolver is loaded and the sound of a chair being set on the ground is the same tone of a hammer being pulled back. A dead frostbite eases into only the vaguest intonation of words; aim, fire all rounds, "Oh, but there is an issue.

"Too bad you're not qualified to voice it. What a hypocrite. Ignoring any right to question your own bad choices, then targeting mine as a distraction? And what about that mental hangup of yours? 'I'm dead, I shouldn't make any attachments to the living'. Then you try pulling this half-assed concern on me over something that's not a problem. There's no way someone like you has the right to judge me when you're guilty of the same sins."

And the worst part is it's said all in a composed, reasonable, and above all dead delivery, sitting down afterward with an annoyed sigh. Like even saying it wasn't worth the effort. It even picks up the adjective 'tired' with the last dismissing wave of his hand. "But I'm sure she's got plenty of logical reasons for why I should ignore it. Maybe you can get her to give them, Clara. I've had no luck."

Empty the chamber, reload. Your move, Aradia.

"What on earth are you both talking about? Bad choices?"

Yep. Definitely getting flashbacks to her youth when looking after her quarrelling sons. Except with her sons she had least had a clue of what's causing them to squabble. She's pretty much up in the air on what's wrong with these two here. See, kiddies, this is why ghosts have to be in the know for everything. Because everyone starts shouting or start asking questions that don't make sense unless you happen to be the narrative or a third party omniscient viewer.

At least she knows the two with here are neither the type to start a brawl or showdown right there and then. No matter how bad the argument got. The poor employee would weep if a brawl occurred here in the middle of the night after someone broke in.

She knows. She hopes. Oh dear.

Her expression is balancing a fine line of annoyed and alarmed, wondering what has gotten these two heckled up so much. She goes closer to them, narrowing her eyes to see if she can pick up any signs of damage on them. "Did something happen earlier? Is that why you two are fighting? Are you two okay? Are you both safe?"

The revolver analogy is rather apt. Each successive hit from the argument drops Aradia's mood further, amusement shattered because she knows he has a point. She's painfully aware that her usual arguments barely hold up under fire, but explaining it risk dragging people into her mess and if it stays out of sight then it can't hurt anyone. And in any case, this is different because she's dead and he's not and he's being an absolute asshole--

Her temper flares and there's an immediate shriek from the lights, flickering static causing the younger ghost to bury her face in her hands because she will not flip her lid in Clara's shop. There's a line in the sand and that wouldn't so much be crossing it as nuking it from orbit.

He's doing this on purpose. He has to be, since he's got first-hand evidence of how bad her control is near anything fragile. She's half tempted to strangle him but-- no, temper, stop.

"Something definitely happened," and that at least is impossible to dispute. 'Happened' is such a cheerfully neutral word and events definitely happen all the time. "And I'm okay, but somebody decided to spend the last two days in a coma. Which is not the same thing because--" he just said she'd try to counter it, "--because I'm nowhere near that dumb."

Yeah, no. The light beside the door is the third casualty of this argument, shards of glass ringing like bells as they hit the ground, and she just. Fuck.

Clara gets a glance, utterly prepared to answer her questions as civilly as possible - before Ghost Girl decides to be a fuck. The flickering lights earn a blank stare that may, for an instant, been regret for going all out on her. She's an innocent kid, kinda, not really, but she at least didn't deserve the full Him treatment. Even Dlanor tended to avoid it and she was always the best at handling him.

Except wait, no, she doesn't deserve any mercy at all, and the defenses rise once more with the wave of thoughts - she's wrong, it's not concerning, how can someone be so wrong all the time, she's worrying clara needlessly, there's so much wrong here it can't be put into words-

"First, stop exaggerating. Comas involve a noticeable degradation of brain wavelengths and are far more difficult to wake up from than, say, sleeping. Second, congratulations on the property damage. You are officially that dumb. And it invalidates your right to bother me about it!"

Poor sweet innocent Clara might be getting the feeling right about now that it might have been better to stay out of it. Alas, the lightbulbs are already dying. Escape is no longer an option.

Rest in peace oh good and noble lamplight. You were a good lamp for the two week you were installed here against the employees' better judgements that you (predictably) would not last long with them. At least the owner of the shop is used to lightbulbs exploding out of the blue since purchasing it. She is officially happy that this is happening in a shop that's used to these sort of things, not the other shops that considered themselves 'lucky' to avoid accidents like this.

That's Clara's only consolation over this happening.

"You two!" Clara is quick to get between them, looking them back and forth with her sternest expression as possible in hopes of stopping them from saying anymore very rude things. While she could leave them be to duke it out, there is no way on earth she'll actually let that happen. At all. "It doesn't matter if it was a coma or not a coma! Two days? Willard! You're such a smart man. She's only concerned for you like how I'm concerned for you now.

"And Aradia! Please! At this rate all the streetlamps outside are going to catch on fire. Someone is going to notice and I don't want you to get hurt." She takes a deep breath since she hasn't raised her voice like that since Tonyo graduated highschool and but wait no. She doesn't need to breathe. She's a ghost. "Before anyone asks here -- Yes. They can catch on fire from my experience."

Looking back at the poor remnants of the light, she cants her head and takes note of it. Compared to everything else, the light was quite sturdy which is the whole point of the purchase to prevent it being easily blown out. She knew of Aradia's abilities to be a danger to lightbulbs and anything electronic but she never thought it could be this active, let alone powerful with how many she's managed to get in such a short amount of time. Emotional or not that takes a lot of power from the ghost and she keeps on at it.

Her brow furrows some more. Not out of hysterical concern but calculated thought. Hmmm. "--How long has this been going on? You two being friends, I mean. Not this fight."

~~Which is interchangeable at this rate.~~

Everything happens so much.

Aradia flinches both times the lightbulb is mentioned - she's trying, it's hard, her thoughts keep slipping out of focus, she wanted it to stop - but those aren't valid excuses at all, really. Add to that the mutual scolding and the realization that yep, she just caused more dangerous spectral activity at the battered old coffee shop, and suddenly it's harder to hold onto anger in the face of sudden guilt. There's no satisfaction at Will getting snapped at too, because he's still being an ass and it's justified, but they've genuinely worried Clara and there's so many regrets to be had here.

"I'm not exaggerating and-- I can't do fire," because that's obviously the problem with this situation, she wants to argue back but Clara's in the way. "I'll. Find a way to fix it. It'd get blamed on you anyway, they only look for me south of the Thames, and it wouldn't be fair."

Clara's track record was so much better then hers and she wrecked it. But she has to reply, it'd be rude otherwise, though eye contact is ignored as that cabinet full of coffee mugs over there is so much more interesting to stare at. "I... guess it's been about two months, since we met? Not sure why that's relevant."

That's as close as she remembers, since time got hard to keep track of with nothing to measure it against. Aradia's wording changes on the reply, 'friend' discarded and swapped in favour of averages, because he said they were acquaintances and she's still okay with that.

There would normally be an escalation of argumental stupidity here, the usual patterns of Aradia riling him up into a neurotic snap not too much unlike throwing water on a cat. Or ghosts at lightbulbs. Or any other fitting simile that is quickly undermined by the sudden blank stare and silence he gives to the opposing wall.

That.

Did he just get scolded?

No attention is given to the comment of concern (she is, he knows it, but you're Forbidden from concerned, you push her feelings away), but even still it causes a bit of a flatline. Effectively getting shoved back against the mental wall of thy self is worthless but given purpose in Our Doctrine by the terrible, undefeatable leviathan that is Clara Has Raised Teenage Boys.

Only the smallest bit of awareness clicks in at the question, and the dead stare doesn't change. It matches the monotone answer flawlessly, "Forty-eight days and six hours. The section that could be considered friendly is twenty two days and ten hours. Her habit of frying electronics has been for twenty seven days and nineteen hours, however only recently has it reached this level."

Jesus christ. At least Furniture makes great watches.

One: Yes. Willard was scolded and it looks like Clara is willing to do it again if it prevents another fight from coming up. Reluctant as she is to raise her voice, she will do it. Don't tempt her. Please.

Two: It was fine. No, really. People will come and go and spoke and do the occasional warding spells to shoo her off. At... At least that's free publicity for the shop if more people come to check on the sudden spike of supernatural activity? It was the owner's way to counter all the people from coming in and out without really buying anything over the years.

For now she wants to focus on something she wishes she saw sooner but hadn't and now here they all are. Feeling awkward and the occasional sputter of spark from the ruined lamp nearby does nothing to help.

"Okay! Right," Clara starts off, "Let's keep that all in mind when I ask my next question. Okay? Aradia: Do you remember our talk earlier from when we last met? About anchors?"

She gives Willard a brief apologetic look while she speaks. Just in case if he doesn't know what an anchor is or finds himself out of loop about what's going on here between the ghosts. If he does know what's going on-- She's sorry all the same.

He's doing the thing again, attempts to disarm the argument be damned. It's the same empty monotone she heard when the wifi password came up, the crystal-clear repetition's still eerie and notably colder (with another wince at 'could be considered friendly', ow). She's two seconds from mentioning it because now it's definitely tied into Weird Bullshit, it'd be easier to prove it this time, except-

Except then Clara switches targets and no. She didn't even know her blood could still turn to ice, that's a fascinating discovery and she'd much rather think about that then.... crap.

"No?" Wait. "I mean - I remember, but I still don't," there's no way she's getting out of this in one piece, is there. The waves of panic rolling off her are almost tangible, sending warning flickers through the lights but thankfully avoiding more needless destruction. She knows where Clara's going with this, and the worst part is it's suddenly all too obvious that she's got a point. Help. "I still haven't really changed my opinion on the whole thing?"

If anyone starts laughing at her misfortune there might be no survivors. Just saying.

Edited (i posted it early for reasons this is the real version) 2015-07-01 18:47 (UTC)

The world is safe because Aradia is not laughed at, even if it means he doesn't even focus back in when Clara speaks. The question is directed at Ghost Girl, but who cares. It doesn't change the fact the word 'anchors' is picked up on. The moment of silence in between their silent stares is an immediate snap to so long ago.

Everyone went through the courses after induction. They weren't long or particularly helpful, since the point was to just give the minimum assistance (death weeds out the weaker ones, why bother investing in disposable statistics) and after it they would all pick their specification. Being an Exorcist is for scrubs and weenie babies and living shields, screw that noise time to take specialization with the witch hunters.

The point is he does remember a section on ghosts he essentially ignored because, really, he's not doing that. Ever. The monotone stays intact, reading off some mental lecture and only taking out the important bits.

"That's th'one that leeches off the victim's soul, right?"

And now everyone can be totally unsurprised that the jesus cultists are given completely not-false information to make them more efficient. Super unsurprised. None of us are wrong, after all.

excuse u #notallghosts

"You don't have to change your opinion on it," she stresses calmly as she can to Aradia. The last thing she want to do is make her feel like she's being pressured to this this. "I just want you to know that if all the signs point to it, that maybe you should--"

Stop. Wait a minute. Give her a moment to process what Willard actually said to her.

She knows the process of anchoring is strange and a little foreboding but it doesn't stop her from looking scandalised by what he says. Naturally here comes the knee jerk reaction of:

"No!"

Clara looks very offended now and the lights outside flicker a bit, a rare show of temper that she squashes down because, again, no. It isn't right but she can't get mad. The most she can do is explain and hope for the best.

"Not all ghosts are dangerous," she reminds them. "You two know that. The only reason some ghosts become so difficult is because they didn't have an anchor. All the anchor does, if the relationship is equal and healthy, is keep the ghost tied to the real world. No sucking is involved."

Did he just-

He did, and now she doesn't have to feel bad about being the only one who made that mistake. In front of Clara. This is probably not a good thing, but she'll take refuge wherever it comes, despite that being a much stronger outburst then the one Aradia earned. Which... switches her reaction from 'amused' back to 'worse', guilt and panic starting to mingle in annoying waves that get shoved down because she's okay. The whole point is that she's okay.

She totally didn't scoot back a little. At all. Nope. This wasn't meant to be about her problems, how did it come to this.

"Maybe I'm just getting better with control?" Except there's three ruined lights in the past hour alone that say otherwise, despite all attempts to pin it on her temper. Next- "And that's kinda balanced out by experience anyway. The being tied to reality bit, I mean. You said yourself that it's really hard to define."

Since everyone's so fond of skipping to the 'exorcise everything' step, but there's no point bringing that up again. It'd just lead to another circular argument and more fried wiring and that's the last thing this mess'd need right now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the boos and the bees [closed to willard and clara] [backdated to the 22nd]

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real tag here it is

ngl i died a little inside and ive never been more proud