undergrounds | stop! ghost time (open post)

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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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Faust gave her a hard smile. "No, of course not. I don't believe I gave you my card. If, as you say, you're simply here out of concern for me, then you shouldn't mind accompanying me to my office. Yes?"

He was keeping an eye on you, Clara.

Would it be too late for her to call a friend to help her out with this?

Possible, probably, definitely. Not wanting to arouse anymore suspicions on her, she nods and tries to give her best smile to show she isn't afraid or nervous at all because what's happening here. "Not at all! I would love to see more of your clinic here. It's so, um, tidy."

"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...?

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?

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."

"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."

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."

"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.

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."

"A... lamp?" For a second or two, in Faust's state of exhaustion, he envisioned a genie's lamp -- some ancient, arcane vessel of gold that would grant one's wishes in one fail swoop. But that was ridiculous. She meant a much more mundane piece of furniture, of course.

"I don't have any spare end tables, Mrs. Seville. Unless it's a floor lamp."

"I'm sorry. It's a normal desk lamp. We had a floorlamp but then I, ah, broke it after I died." Still learning the limits of her powers at the time. She was lucky it only affected the floorlamp, ceiling fan, and microwave back then.

"If you ever do need a lamp or a ghost hand, I'm here! I used to be a homemaker when I was still alive." Because if there's one thing that Clara did miss it was cleaning and tidying things up. It's so soothing to do. And if it gave him more time to research and study things that further his goals, she'll be happy to take the cleaning duties up for a bit. Few as those seem to be. "Um! Plus I have something that can help me make easier contact with objects. So there's that."

"I suppose I could still use it for the reception desk," he mused. Give a little character to the waiting room, maybe? This was why he needed someone with some home decorating abilities every now and then -- he had no idea how to make people feel more at ease.

"Oh? And what would this something be?" It didn't sound like it was ghost magic, from the way she described it. Perhaps an arcane item?

She looks happy that he seems interested in the lamp and she makes a note to get him it in the future. When she has money to give to the shop before tugging it away, of course.

Feeling at ease enough, she's more than happy to answer the question, "I think the best way I can describe them is that they're ghost gloves! I thought they were simple gardening gloves at first but then my friend and I, we realised I can hold things better if I have them on. Only ghosts can hold them though. My friend tried but..."

Hmmm. How to describe it. "Her hand went right through them. I think that's how it went. It was rather strange."

"Ghost gloves," said Faust agreeably. Yes, of course, that made perfect sense. "Perhaps some sorcerer decided to help out a ghost friend of theirs? Or perhaps they were made strictly to further someone's research. In any case, I should be happy if you'd let me examine them."

Er. Was that really wise, though? Faust seemed like the type to get a little carried away by his research.

"I thought that too! There's also the possibility that a fae did this themselves. For mischief on how a ghost would react to these sort of things." If one thinks long and hard enough on it, her reasoning somewhat makes sense.

The offer is a bit of a surprise and she seems intrigued by it. He is a doctor after all. What could go wrong? "I see no problem at all! Maybe it can even help you in the long run. If it does, I'll be more than happy to let you take a look at them. Er, to let you know: No one else so far has been able to hold them."

Faust smiled. "Perhaps so. Though I can't imagine it was a very powerful fae, in that case -- they usually have motives beyond simply creating mischief." At least in his experience.

"I would be honored to try and figure out how to hold your gloves," said Faust solemnly. "By the way, would you like to meet my Eliza?"

Is. Is that a trick question?

"I--" On one hand, she feels like she should say no but on the other hand it's rude of her to be here as it is thanks to her earlier intentions. Turning down the offer seems wrong. No matter how much she feels like something may or may not happen. "I-- I would love to meet her if you're really alright with that. Be more than a delight, honestly."

Faust's smile turned into a beam of delight. "I'm so glad you think so! Come along, then, and we'll pay her a little visit."

He got up and headed toward the door. Honestly, this was probably a terrible idea all around considering that he'd said his wife was dead, so where was he even leading Clara? He went down the hall, opened one of the nondescript doors. It opened inward with a bit of a creak, revealing what looked like an autopsy table. The surface of the table was covered with a large blue sheet. And underneath that sheet...

Faust pulled the covering lovingly back from the table, revealing white bone. A skeleton, almost entirely intact save for the large hole prominently featured in the skull, right where the left forehead would have been in life.

He was keeping his wife's skeleton in his office.

That's a...

....

.....

What's this? She hasn't snapped back to the coffee shop yet. That's strange given her past experience. Is she terrified to the point she can't go back out of fear itself? Interesting; she'll keep note of that in the future as she stares at the, um, sight for a few more seconds. In her head she had been expecting maybe picture or an urn. Maybe a piece of her at best for a morbid second. She hadn't expected everything.

"Um. Oh. Right." Staring is rude no matter the circumstances and this is his residence. What could she say though? "This is her. I see. It's-- It's an honour to meet her proper."

She hopes that was polite enough because she isn't sure what else to say here. This means a lot to him, showing Eliza to someone after what's happened, but her mind is honestly at a blank here on what could be said. Besides asking if this is in line with health code regulations or not. (There's a strong chance that is isn't but she doesn't know anything of medical things so she's going to trust Faust on this.)

Faust touched the skeleton's skull gently, even tenderly. After a moment, he bent down and gave its forehead a kiss. Probably it was best if no one asked him how he obtained his wife's skeleton. Or when.

"One day," he said. "We'll be reunited. I know it."

Okay Faust. Awesome.

He turned to Clara. "I need to ask you something, Mrs. Seville. You know what my wife looks like. You know how important she is to me. I met someone recently -- someone who said they could help. She said that my wife might be wandering somewhere, or... or there might be another problem. Some reason I can't contact her, some reason I don't know her real name. I can look into that. But if she's wandering somewhere around London, I'd have no way to search for her. You, though... you're a ghost. Surely you must know things. Ways to look that I don't have. Would you..."

Faust swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. "Would you help me?"

"Find her real name?" He must mean her full name. That explains why he hasn't been able to contact her during his attempts. "Ah. That's quite a feat, truth be told. We'll need to find not only her full name but learn how she pronounced it herself…"

Oh dear, oh dear. This escalated faster than she would have imagined.

Originally meant to be spying for someone, she finds herself being offered to help another person with something more achievable, perhaps, but she can't have a nervous feeling in her gut over it. She doesn't know a lot about magic but something like this will be demanding more than a proper name and an agreeable spirit.

"--Of course." Yet she'll agree to it. There is no way she'll be able to live with herself if she turned him down after all she's known here. "I'll do my best to help you find her name. That's the best I can do, however, since I'm rather limited in everything else.

"And I hope you'll be alright with me asking a friend to help me out. We'll both be discreet, I promise. Two ghosts are better than one after all."

"Two ghosts...?" Well, two was better than one, right?

"If you think you can trust them." He paused. "I may have a lead. Can you and your friend meet me at the cemetery? You know the one. I can give you the details there. I need to make some... preparations."

"I trust her with all my heart." Aradia saved her life once. Surely she can help bring back a life too. That's the same, right?

When he mentions the cemetery, she can't help but furrow her brow and frown. "You'll need to be careful of the groundskeeper then. He's been rather testy ever since the incident but we'll meet there if that's where you want to go.

"... What sort of preparations if I can ask?" Because that pause did not soothe her concerns, honestly.

He smiled. "Why, preparations to summon my wife, of course!" ...And other things.

"Spells like that do require their own set of materials, you know. Thank you, madam. If this works... no, when this works, I'll be very grateful."

And wouldn't it be super wonderful to have the gratitude of someone like Faust? Of course it would.

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warmheartedly - 2015-08-06 05:04 (UTC) - Expand

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