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stop! ghost time (open post)

JULY 21; COFFEERS' SHOP (LATE AFTERNOON)

Clara doesn't always snoop around the city and sometimes her work isn't always needed in the school. Sometimes she likes to stay in the shop. Sometimes she enjoys listening to idle conversation of the customers, not really listening in on them, that'll be rude, but nonetheless enjoying the buzz of activity the shop has during their busiest hours.

And sometimes that isn't enough. That's when she goes over and pokes around the lost and found box, seeing what's there and if anything is something that belongs to a current patron she can give back to without them looking. It's there that she finds a pair of marigold gloves during her search and about them draws her to them... Naturally she reaches out to and concentrates a bit to have a goodish grasp of it to see if there's a nametag anywhere when she notices a peculiar thing:

It feels... solid under her touch, real and tangible without the strange numbness to her fingertips she's become accustomed to at this rate. It takes her a second to realise what this means. She can touch them! She can hold them! She can do it with ease, most importantly of all.

Oh, what an exciting day for her as she mutters one little apology under her breath and zips off to the back of the shop with her new item. Already she has a little million ideas for them popping into mind, the excitement of the discovery along with the possibilities just enough to drown out her guilt for taking something out of the lost and found box that isn't hers.

JULY 25; AROUND THE CITY (ALL DAY)

After the last few days of activity, Clara decides it's time to be both proactive and to use her gloves to her advantage.

She'll now be found in areas that she usually doesn't snoop around in her attempts to glean information: The darker parts of the city, the seedier alleyways of the town, and etc. She'll peek through windows and go through walls, doing her best to stay invisible and quiet as a mouse while going through things with a newfound ease thanks to her gloves. (When she can bear the itching for long as she can, of course. Goodness do they chafe her skin.)

From Haringey to Hackney to Waltham Forest and then some, she'll be exploring and peeping into a lot of people today if she can. It's risky but she does her best. If she's to be a good observer of information, she needs to dig deep and hope she finds some things out, see what's going on in the heart of the city.

[ OOC: Or make your own scenario in your comment! Prose and brackets welcomed! A note, though, is that only one person can step in to help Clara get rid of the medium that she'll run into on July 25.]

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"We'll see," is all Clara can say with a smile. "I also thought I would get better in not running into people and giving them a fright but I still do that."

Her nose wrinkles as she looks back down at the bright yellow glove on her hand, annoyed by something. "Oh! This is getting rather itchy. Do you mind holding this for a minute while... do anything to stop this? This is really strange."

It's the first time she felt anything in a long time, really. It's rather troubling to suddenly experience after a decade's worth of muted touch and she needs a moment to collect herself because of it.

She doesn't realise that's one of the side effect of the gloves along with the fact only ghosts like herself could hold and wear the gloves.

"You can't help running into people," Maera protests, shaking her head. "It must be hard. You shouldn't have to feel sorry for that."

She reaches out to take the gloves from her, but her fingers pass through the fabric likes there's nothing there. "Um." She tries again, grasping at thin air, then raises her eyebrows. "I think they really are ghost gloves, Clara. I can't touch them."

Edited 2015-07-29 16:09 (UTC)

"Excellent," said Faust, smiling cordially at her. "This way, please." He led her down the hall to a small office, which looked like... a normal doctor's office? Papers, files, two chairs. He sat down in the one by the small desk and motioned for Clara to sit in the other.

There was a framed photo displayed prominently on the edge of his desk. One of the people in it was most likely Faust from an earlier time. He looked happy, handsome. Rested, even. The other was a lovely, tall woman with long blonde hair, holding a grinning mutt in her arms.

Faust busied himself with pouring out a cup of tea for Clara. "Sugar?"

Had he forgotten that she was a ghost...?

What. She looks at Maera with surprise, brow furrowing as she looks back down at the gloves. Her friend likes to joke but not this much.

"You can't." Really? This is interesting to know. Maybe that's why no one's touched them in the lost and found box. How can you get something if you can't get a hold of it? "Huh. I guess either a very interesting fae made this or another person did it themselves. It's a lot of magic to use up on a pair of gloves."

She's starting to believe the idea that there maybe there's a set out there. "Do you know anything similar to these? Or anyone who would make these sort of things? For any reason."

"Gosh, Clara, I've got no idea," she says a little sadly, shaking her head. This is something totally new to her. "But I'll ask around, alright?"

After a bit of a pause, she shifts from one foot to another and asks, "do you really think a fae made it? Because if it is fae-made... well, there's nothing stopping me from learning a bunch of magic so that I can try to make a whole ghost outfit for you." She's got no idea how hard it'll be, but then, Maera's always been a little naive,

"Something like that," Faolan says, fiddling with his drink slightly before realizing that she's going to talk to him regardless of what sort of a mood he seems to be in, so he should at least try and make an effort, here.

"I like coffee," he says, nodding down to the drink in front of him. A perfectly respectable, traditional flat white, no sugar or added flavoring. He probably could have had something even stronger, but it's not going to be the only coffee of the day, and with his nerves already shot, why tempt fate. "Thought I'd check it out. I get around the city a lot, it's useful to know where all the good coffee spots are."

It takes her a second to sit down, needing enough concentration to do that while keeping herself aware of everything else around her but she manages it. She pulls out the chair, takes a seat and manages to not fall through. Phew.

The picture on the desk catches her attention though. With how everything seems so normal in the office, she can't help but feel drawn to that. She stares at the photo for a few seconds, noting both the happier looking doctor and the young woman with him and their(?) pet.

She takes that's his poor wife from before her passing. She is lovely as he said she was and o-oh! Right! He's talking to her.

"Um! I don't drink! I can't drink." Ghosts don't need sustenance like when they were still alive. One of the perks, maybe? Either way she waves her arms back and forth to turn down the cup, trying to be polite while doing so. "Thank you for the offer. I used to like mine being quite dark and heavy, actually."

"Oh, how absentminded of me," said Faust apologetically. The tea seemed to have overflowed the cup and started dripping onto the floor; Faust didn't notice that, either. He put the kettle back and made himself comfortable in his own chair.

"We took that photo years ago, when she was still alive. She raised that dog from a young pup." Had he... accepted her story about being concerned about him?

The prospect of Maera making her a whole set of clothes for her so she had better contact with the world is a sweet one. She smiles, grateful for the offer, and looks very touched.

"Of course a fae could have done this! Possibly. I mean only fae like you and the others are powerful enough to do these sorts of things." She can't imagine a witch doing it. What would they benefit from it besides a good grade on a strangely specific thesis of theirs somewhere in a school like Redbright?

"So you're a bit of a traveller then." That seems to intrigued Bianca with how her eyes light up, interested. "Fancy yourself as a bit of a coffee connoisseur? I always thought Soho had the best coffee there. A bit expensive but worth the pretty pences on a weekend!"

Clara can't help but think Bianca might be pushing her luck bit and that's saying something with her own personality. She drifts closer to try and advise the witch that maybe her well-meaning attitude is a bit too much when she spots, out of the corner of her eye, a waiter rushing by. She quickly moves forward to avoid hitting him but goes right through Bianca as she's taking a sip of her coffee instead. "Whoops! Bianca, I'm so sorry!"

"Bwurhge aurghah." Bianca winces at the sudden cold taste of coffee on her mouth and she visibly flinches, face a caricature of disgust and shock from both the sudden chill and drop of temperature. The sound she makes is an interesting one: A cross between a dying cat and maybe some untuned harmonics thrown in.

She laughs a little, clasping her hands together. "I don't think I'm that powerful. But I can work on it!" She's been intending on practicing anyway - now she just has a concrete goal to work towards.

"It must be nice to feel things again, though, isn't it? Kind of like how it's nice to go back to one Realm after spending a lot of time in another."

Faolan is halfway between raising his own coffee to his lips when she lets out the sound, and he pauses mid-motion. Coffee half-raised to his lips, eyebrows raised as he watches her. Something had made her make that noise, and that face, and it hadn't been the waiter passing by, and the coffee had been just fine a minute ago. And he's hoping it isn't anything to do with him, for that matter. He's handsome enough, but his personality leaves something to be desired at times -- and yet he's fairly certain he's never disgusted anyone before. Certainly not in casual conversation, while he's not even talking.

"...you okay?" he asks, because at this moment she seems anything but.

She looks at the too full cup and can't help but feel worse at the sight of it. He's clearly busy, no doubt tired, and here she is being a snoop for a ghost while he's trying to be civil to her.

It could be a trap to make her relax around his presence but she can't stop feeling awful.

On one hand, she hopes he believes her claims that she's worried for him. On the other hand, she wants to apologise for wanting to spy on him and add she really does worry now. "They're both so adorable there. She and the dog must have been so close. Dogs are so loyal to their friends. More so to the ones who raised them from day one."

"It is! Being able to feel more than just my hands would be amazing but thank you no matter what. It means a lot to me that you'll try." For a silly old ghost like her when she had a lot of important things to do, she bets. "I wish I could repay you somehow."

She thinks about it and an almost mischievous look is on her face. "Maybe we can work together to pull a prank on someone you've been hoping to prank for a while? With your brains and my ghosting plus the gloves? We can do something."

Something hilarious. And something that won't get them into too much trouble of course.

Bianca smiles at him apologetically and has not choice but to raise one finger as she tries to keep her coffee. A second, please?

Clara floats by and winces at the sight of the Redbright student trying to down her drink and is glad she manages to succeed despite all odds. "Ooooh! I really need to stop doing that to people. This is why people keep trying to banish me after finding me out."

"--I'm fine," the witch is finally able to say, despite her voice wavering like she's cold. She looks embarrassed at her lapse of manners, feeling silly and having a feeling he must think of her being silly. "Coffee tastes a bit weird all of the sudden and it got really cold out of the blue. Talk about a sugar crash."

"Unless it's the ghost!" A person nearby their table pipes up with this comment, looking at them with interest now. They have a strange device on their table, the screen's number flashing wildly without their notice since they're focusing too much on the two. "She's always causing trouble here! I should know. This place is cursed!"

"Cursed? Don't be silly," Bianca shoots back, looking a bit-- worried? Maybe she doesn't want her tablemate to get a bad impression of the coffee shop here. Maybe the taste lingers on her tongue still.

"You know, I was hoping you'd say something like that," Maera says with a grin, though her expression becomes thoughtful as she begins to seriously consider the prank. "There's no one I'd really want to prank who wouldn't see you. Which is a pity, because there's this fae called Akane who makes me want to punch things. Specifically her face. You know I don't get angry at people usually, but she just gets on all of my nerves."

"Yes..." Was this a good time to mention he still had the dog's skeleton? Even Faust had been so attached to him. "His name was Frankensteiny. Eliza's idea, of course -- she had a unique sense of humor. I think it was because he was such a mutt, there was no telling which pieces of different breeds had gone into him."

Certainly Frankensteiny's features seemed unidentifiable, not like a simple Labradoodle.

"You know, I'm glad you showed up here, Mrs. Seville. It does get lonely at times."

"--Akane."

That name is familiar but she can't quite put her finger on it. It's been a busy few weeks the past month with her job but something about that name rings a distant bell. Maybe because she's worried after hearing what Maera has to say. "My goodness. Sounds like she's quite a character if she gets you this angry. I can never imagine you doing something like that without a cause."

Hearing the name has her crack a genuine smile free of apprehension of fear, always charmed by such clever and adorable names.

"Such a creative name! That's one way to show off how unique Frankensteiny was." She looks back at the photo more obviously this time and smiles at the sight of the three before she returns her attention to. "I'm glad too. It's nice to see you again since last time."

No matter the circumstances surrounding her reasons here. She almost wants to say sorry but she doesn't want to get Ma-- Ms. Sommerset into trouble too since she'll need to explain herself. "Your clinic is quite quaint, I have to say. It's been a while since I've been in one but I can bet that you've been working here a lot."

"She's just-- stuck-up and rude and one of those people who thinks they can judge love when they haven't even experienced it, and--" Maera stops abruptly and squeezes her eyes shut. After counting slowly to ten under her breath, she shakes her head and opens her eyes again. "She just irritates me. A lot."

Edited (wrong userpic, sorry!!) 2015-07-30 18:46 (UTC)

Faolan glances between the pair of them -- at the man with his device, and at the young girl, who looks distinctly nervous at the mention of ghosts. Whereas Faolan himself can only feel his curiosity rising. "A ghost?" he asks, raising his eyebrows even more, glancing to the other before back at her. She did say that she was a regular, after all, wouldn't she know more about this place than anyone?

It should probably be noted, or at least it is notable to anyone who cares to take such an observation in, that far from being shocked and appalled at such a revelation, Faolan is suddenly sitting forward in his seat. He may not have any supernatural abilities of his own to speak of, but having been a hunter for the last ten years, he is not without his fascinations in the supernatural themselves.

"Why, thank you." Faust's smile seemed genuine enough. Maybe it almost made up for the weirdness of the tea and the obviously shady pentagram. Clearly he spent a lot of late nights doing something.

"I run it by myself, mostly, though I have some part-timers working the front desk. But I'm afraid it's lacking a woman's touch." Well... sort of. Everything thus far was neat and tidy, but there was no art on the walls, no houseplants in the hall.

""Goodness." Clara places the uncovered hand over her mouth, looking concerned. "Sounds like she said something quite awful to have you this irritated."

Upset comes to mind but no. That's too strong a word. Irritated. That's it. "Well! If that happens again, you let me know and I'll give her a peace of my mind. No one is going to annoy my friends like this."

"I'm not that interesting," Clara says in a feeble and unheard attempt to deter people from speaking about it. It's always so strange to hear people speak of her like this, more myth than person.

The man perks up in his seat, pleased that someone is interested in the subject. He holds up the notebook he's doodling one, pointing to one prominent words written there. The Harrowing Spectre "Yeah! There's a ghost. She's been here forever since--"

"--since the shop opened," Bianca finishes for him, looking unimpressed by the person now that she has her wits together. A part of her wants to shut the conversation down for Clara's sake -- since she's starting to look uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation -- but her tablemate here looks interested for once. "It's a bit of an urban legend here in Harrow, really. That there's a ghost haunting the shop."

"And the entire street!" Someone shushes the man, looking annoyed at his volume. "Sorry. Anyways: Did you know that a month or two back that almost five streetlamps exploded in one evening in less than an hour? Just across the shop too."

It's enough to have her relax thanks to the direction of the conversation, something almost normal.

She looks around and while she doesn't vocalise it, she quite agrees with his observation. It is quite barren and she was there when they were moving all of Francisco's things from his hospital room away. It wouldn't have to something here to make it more of a place for him to stay if he's here for a long time.

Suddenly a lightbulb flickers; an idea pops in her head. "I have a lamp. Since I don't use it anymore, maybe it could be of more use to you. If you're interested in it."

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stop! ghost time (open post)

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