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undergrounds2015-06-02 09:17 pm
oh dear; oh dear (open post)
There's a playground. Well, there a lot of playgrounds across the city. What makes this one right next to Coffers' Shop a bit more special than the other out there is this: Accidents.
It's not unheard of playgrounds to have the occasional accidents. It's who is the heart of the possible problem for this one.
Parents love it for the fact it's so safe for their kids there. They can drop their rowdiest youngsters at that spot and never worry about a scratch or bruise by the time they come back to pick them up.
Other adults though? The ones who shouldn't be lingering around or have too much interest in watching the kids? If you're not a babysitter for any of the children, there's a strong chance something may happen to you. Especially if you have an unfortunate reputation among the regulars there. At least the occasional sharp trip or tumble to the ground won't harm you that badly. A scuff or bruise but nothing too serious.
JUNE 5; GRAVEYARD (MORNING)
This part of the cemetery doesn't get a lot of attention. Compared to the ornate statues of angels weeping or grand mausoleums, the humble headstones and markers pale in comparison to them and often get little attention.
The row of tombstones here all belong to a small family, the (supposed) only surviving member studying not having quite enough time to pay her respects to the family she barely remembers. As a result it gets no notice, not attention besides the groundskeeper who keeps weeds off all the grounds.
Yet, in the early hours, some passerby may notice a trail of petals from a patch of wildflowers, outside of the cemetery, leading to the tombstones. This happens now and then. Not enough times to be reported on but enough times that the groundskeeper, if asked, will mention he's no longer surprised by the presence of tidy bushels of flowers on the graves. Someone is only paying their respects for them. There's no harm in that.
Plus he has no interest in going near it during these times. Not when it's so eerily cold that it makes his teeth chatter and his body shake if he's only a few feet from it. The coldness, in his opinion if ever asked, is the worst when near the one that happens to be marked FRANCISCO SEVILLE.
JUNE 5; COFFERS' SHOP (AFTERNOON)
... Is the shop chillier than usual? It seems to be with how when someone enters and they immediately shiver, rubbing their arms to ward off the chills.
The air-conditioning is strong but never this strong.
Those who go here regularly, from customers who come by everyday to and employees themselves, are having a hard time focusing on their works as they shiver and struggle to get the usually reliable free wi-fi to work on them or to get the coffee machine to cooperate for this one cup.
If asked if this happens a lot, some will say yes and some will be unsure but there's a general agreement in the air that this is not normal. The source of the coldness is hard to explain. The coldest spot changes from near the counter to the furthest corner or right outside the door.
Almost like it was... moving on its own.
[ OOC: Or make your own scenario in your comment! Prose and brackets welcomed! ]</td></tr></tbody></table>
i see dead people
The coat is different. Same with the unforgiving presence and the stern look. The groundskeeper is dismissed with at least the illusion of manners (Thank you for taking the time from your job. Of course, sir, anytime) but there's still that annoyance. It's just flowers, nothing malignant, being a Rank 1 is irritating, he hates these jobs, might equalize it just on principle-
Except. The names. The entire aura flakes off into nothing upon reading it.
Seville.
He doesn't even turn around. The cold doesn't bother him, locking joints are normal of course- But just the same, he knows she's there.
"Your husband?"
and i see cuties ; ;
If Clara had it her way, she would have kept this from Willard a little bit longer. Except she can't and she nods, gesturing to another one further down the little plot. "And my son. Right over there."
Of all the times she known him, Clara never did get around to talking about what exactly happened to her family after her... departure. Certainly talked about her sons in their childhood days and her husband's quirks but never did a 'where are they now' segments. The topic of books and Willard's day were much more livelier subjects to discuss.
"... I didn't expect to see you here." In fact, she wondered why he was here. The cemetery wasn't a well-known one. Cosy but small, tucked away from the rest of the city since things like these, reminders of people's lives inevitableness, doesn't do wonders for the tourism trade and such. She chuckles a bit, shaking her head. "Though I did hear this side of tombstones is much colder for some reason and spooky things happen at this hour."
realtalk i got this tag and just went OH NO really loud they're too cute
He doesn't ask.
So it's only at the spooky comment does he turn back around. There's none of the usual 'I'm sorry for your loss' or 'why didn't you tell me' or 'at least you're still here' that most people snap off. They're trite appeasements. A sad facsimile of empathy, because people think that by saying how much they care, it means they actually do.
Her expression isn't brought up either.
"What? Like flowers appearing from nowhere? Or a woman standing in your peripherals and gone when you turn? Sounds like a classic ghost story."
it's so late where i am and so i could only turn to one of my dogs and go 'look at these two'
So there's a smile back on her face sooner rather than later. This one bemused and guilty of the things Willard lists down that were her handiwork, accidental or not. "That's me! I suppose if you do this for almost a decade, it happens to catch's people's attention."
"Hmmm... I think 'ghost story' is a good way to describe it," she said to him. "It's gotten to the point that there's a little challenge among the kids when they pass here as a shortcut." She looks back at the graves, looking at them except not really. Last thing she wants to do is look sad around Willard. "Come here and check for the flowers. If there are, grab it and run off. Poor groundskeeper has to keep chasing them away whenever he spots them! Though I suppose the exercise will do him some good. Nothing refreshing like taking a jog in here of all places while going after some schoolboys."
hopefully your dogs were more sympathetic than my cats
A shame about the graves being untended though. It's half-distracted when he takes out his phone and takes pictures of the two graves in question.
"Better they have courage contests here than somewhere dangerous." God knows they do that enough in other areas of the city. It's probably how the fae get half of their kids to kidnap. "However, you should tell them stealing is wrong. Next time leave a memo stuck to the flowers."
they gave the most supportive barks.
It would be nice to keep them away. For only a little while so the flowers can linger around longer than a few days. "That sounds like a good idea. Post a note right after they pick up the bushel so they see it.
Hmmm. Maybe I should draw an angry frowning face too," she muses aloud, "to show that I mean business. Maybe make spooky disappointed sounds too just as they think it can't be happening. I hope that isn't considered too mean for them."
good puppies <3
The suggestion however earns the usual cracked smile. He is not a good measurement on whether something is 'mean' or not, so that part goes unacknowledged. "You're a ghost story, remember? Maybe appear to one of them and just keep saying they're your son and you both need to go home. They'll immediately assume you're trying to spirit them away," the emphasis is punctuated with one hand waved through the air, the universal gesture of 'stupid magic nonsense', "Or some other ridiculous trope."
See, that is too mean.
"The angry frowning face is perfect. Keep it."
the best dogs an owner could ask to bark you awake at 4.
"Goodness that will terrify them!" Not that's totally oppose of the idea. She would hate to do that, giving them the heebie jeebies, but they should learn sooner rather than later that this is not a place for games. There's a time and place for everything. "Everyone has their reasons for coming here but they best be sensible reasons, not trying to outdare their friends and make the groundskeeper's job any harder than it should be."
"... With that said, I didn't expect to see you here," she says, not exactly asking a question because she felt like it would be too invasive. All the same-- "This isn't the world's most known cemetery after all. No Tolkien or Lewis or Doyle among these rows of headstones."
they're good woof best friends 4am alarm clocks is what they do
Though the smile falls off at the unsaid question with, "Doyle's a hack."
It's distracted, because there's no way to properly answer it. It's a very precise line of separation; defined by the coat and gloves and the heartless monster act. A difference between a surname and a title, a person and a concept, but mostly importantly it was that one defined rule. Keep business and home as far apart as possible. It's a compartmentalizing that works perfectly.
Up until moments like this. Where it'd be easy to refuse to answer, except it's Clara. She's a good person. He's legitimately fond of her. Dodging the question is unacceptable, and it always just felt wrong to lie to her.
"Fifty quid. Investigate the headstones in question for supernatural activity; observation, resolution, file report. Low threat level, priority dispatch unnecessary." The entire statement is more directed to her husband's headstone than to Clara, with a specific brand of monotone she's never encountered before. It might be just frigid enough to match the cold air she leaves with her tricks, "Rather standard procedure.
"I've been trying to clear the more ridiculous backlog. This one, it's obviously just a visitor, but it's paranoia layered on top of the yearly notion that you have something to do with the disappearing kids. Except that's obviously the Fae. Only idiots like Them would keep thinking otherwise."
It's brittle and unfeeling and could almost be confused for an entirely different person. But more importantly, gives enough context clues for Clara to answer her own unasked question.
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It's just. It throws her off a bit with how her eyebrows knit together and she tries to understand the meaning behind his words, what he's trying to say under the statements and facts.
Clara never did know what he did for a living outside of the vague notions of projects and assignments. A moment like this makes her wonder if she wants to really know or if he wants her to know. Ignorance is bliss after all and she has to remember they live in a world that isn't always the safest place.
"Oh. I see." There's a bit of sheepishness in her tone as she looks at him, solemn for a second. Then she smiles because that's Clara, always trying to find the good in something for someone. Especially for someone she cares and worries for like Willard. "Well-- I'm glad it was me. I would hate for you to have to deal with anything so serious at this hour. I don't know if you had a proper cup of coffee to get through the day!"