Logs:Waffling and weirdness at Maddy's
|Waffling and weirdness at Maddy's|
|Dramatis Personae|| |
12 April, 2017
Two thaumaturges meet up for a quiet chat; strangeness escalates
It might be largely cloudy with the threat of rain, but at least today is staying well above freezing. Consequently, the late-morning crowd in Maddy's feels less like a set of fugitives seeking sanctuary than they often have over the preceding months. The numbers are lower than is often the case, given the absence from Fallcoast of many of the university's students, which makes the Waffle House something of a haven of peace and quiet. At least for the time being.
Stalking in through the door, Aurore glances around in search of the fellow spirit-talker she had hoped to see here, before making a beeline for the counter. Offering a warmly cheerful smile to the attendant, she requests a pot of coffee and a slice of cake, before turning to survey the room once more as she awaits the preparation of her order.
Zoey drifts in. Well, she walks, but the kind of spacey, distracted walk that seems more like the wind is determining her direction than her mind is. Zoey's hair is now bright pink with a few blue streaks hidden in the mass. She comes to a halt just inside the doorway, which annoys someone trying to come in behind her. Zoey stops, blinking. Why was she here again?
After the past couple of months, 'Above Freezing' is pleasant enough to have Clinton Cutler range further into town than he's been trending since getting wrapped into the spiritual politics around Fisherman's Row. He's still sticking with the sherpa-lined denim jacket, though it looks like it has been through a large piece of industrial equipment at this point. It's starting to move from 'fashionable' into 'just lazy' territory. Still, he has heard tales of Waffle House Bacon fit to draw him this far southwest.
As of late, he's begun taking on tiny hitchhikers. His new neighbors include Batrachia and Wracks, the former of which have decided to cast their lot with the Elodoth and his new friends. The minor spirit toad remains in Shadow for the nonce, though the presence of spiritually adept individuals quickly catch its attention. Silently to most of the world, it sends a choral alert home to its bretheren.
Seemingly oblivious, Clint moves to the bar in the interest of looking into the local selection of Breakfast Meats.
Aurore raises a hand in greeting to Zoey, flashing a swift, broad grin. "Over here," she calls out... before steadfastly attempting to ignore the mild unease generated by Clinton. Holding out a hand to the pink-haired shaman, she beckons her closer. "It's good to see you again. I've been wanting to catch up with you for a while now." Though she's not presently projecting her voice into the Shadow, it still sounds near-magical - a rich, warm alto that mixes the local accent with more exotic influences. "Can I get you anything?"
Aha. That explains that. Zoey's lips widen into a huge smile, and she heads for Aurore with a wave of her own, crossing the room to meet the other thaumaturge there. She glances over her shoulder at Clinton, lips pursing for a moment, eyes flicking just past him. And then she waves to him, too, which... weird. Especially since he comes with a side of heebie-jeebies.
Back in 'normal' life before the first change, Cutler was not a particularly adept social entity to begin with. Gaining a greater aura of disturbance among those around him has largely been written off as a combination of his usual problems with social awareness coupled with the standoffishness of a small town. He orders breakfast with cheerful enthusiasm, regardless... Clinton's approach to most difficulties trends toward upbeat resolve. A momentary look of confusion crosses his features as he catches sight of someone unfamiliar waving at him.
After a moment, he offers a wide grin, a nod, and a "Hey, mornin'." The man has met quite a few people recently, and has the self-awareness to know it's quite likely this is someone else he's been introduced to and forgotten about. The counter regains his attention and he orders, "Coffee and Bacon. Just... a lot. The 'A Lot' portion, please. Thanks." Hidden from mortal eyes, the tiny spirit toad moves from his pocket to his shoulder for a better view of the other two.
Aurore draws Zoey into a one-armed hug, squeezing happily... before arching a brow and looking to and fro between the pink-haired shaman and Clinton. "D'you want anything, Zoey?", she asks gently, providing a reminder of her question.
"Oh! Okay!" Zoey says, slipping an arm around Aurore to hug her back. Squeeze. "That would be nice. The usual?" Granted, Aurore has been here exactly once before with Zoey, so Zoey's 'usual' is a complete unknown. "I had a dream about a road with a mill on it," she announces. That said, she peers at Clinton and his shoulder and waves at the little toad, too. Which... weird.
<< Kur'kilik >> chirps the little toad into Shadow. An interesting turn of phrase in the First Tongue. Somewhere between 'Bites the Blade' and 'Bite of Blades', or both meanings at the same time. Back in the world, Clinton abruptly glances at his shoulder with a, "What. Shh." Already a bit uneasy in his presence, the server just blinks at the man shushing his shoulder, quickly fills his coffee cup, leaves his Plate o'Bacon, and hurries away to other activities.
Aurore looks to the attendant, hoping that she knows what Zoey's "usual" might be... then the poor woman's being spooked by Clinton. At least those 'other activities' entail fetching her own order, and she delves into an inner pocket of her jacket to produce some money. The toad's general vicinity receives a side-long glance, before she refocuses upon Zoey. "Can you remind me what your 'usual' is?", she asks with a smile. "And you could snare a booth, if you wanted. Either just for us, or you could invite your friends as well, if you wanted."
"I don't think I know him yet," Zoey tells Aurore. "But sure! I would like a fruit cup. Sorry, I didn't remember you not knowing that, I guess." She's a little sheepish. Turning about, the pink-haired weirdo starts toward a table, though she pauses by Clinton. "It's okay," she says quietly. "I can see him. Do you want to sit with us? We can handle weird."
Again, brief confusion that is quickly corrected toward cheerfulness. "Him? Oh." Giving a brief laugh, he goes into a short explanation, "Hitchhiker. Surprised I'm getting stalked this far from home, really." His eyes track to the table in question, expression falling briefly to concerned hesitation before a crooked smile returns, "Ah, sure. Sure, sounds good." He collects his coffee and plate, moving to follow Zoey.
It might be largely cloudy and with the threat of rain, but at least today is staying well above freezing. Consequently, the late-morning crowd in Maddy's feels less like a set of fugitives seeking sanctuary than they often have over the preceding months. The numbers are lower than is often the case, given the absence from Fallcoast of many of the university's students, which makes the Waffle House something of a haven of peace and quiet. At least for the time being.
At the moment, the most eye-catching denizens of the Waffle House are almost certainly Aurore, Clinton, Zoey... and a little toad-spirit hitching a ride on Clinton's shoulder. To the half-Spirit oddity that is a Purified Immortal, there's nothing unduly unsettling about any of them - though Clinton does seem to have a mildly perturbing effect on the more normal types in here.
For her own part, Aurore delays at the counter long enough to collect her and Zoey's orders, paying for them before moving to join the other pair.
Hawker hangs out with Sineaters, Werewolves..mages..actually, almost any one can be golden in his book. He just knows better then go off playfully chittering in the langauge of the spirit toad. Not here any how..put him in Forbidden Arts and he would! Still, he knows Aurore, and he seems to veer away, deciding the far end of the counter to settle in at is far safer. Gone is the jeans and all, nope, check out that Gucchi pin stripe, black with red pinstripe, and silver threading at the seams.. he isn't poor any more! Then he rapid fires his order..corned beef hash, two biscuits, and what sounds like a whole mountain of bacon. Oh, and sweet tea, because that makes perfect sense for breakfast right?
Zoey finds them a table near the windows, which is possibly a poor choice if she's to remain focused on conversation, but whatever. She likes windows. Slipping into a seat, she offers a smile at Clinton. "We haven't met before, have we? I'm Zoey." She pauses, then thrusts her hand out toward him. "Sorry if I'm jumpy. I never quite get used to the 'minorly terrifying' thing you've got going on."
Jerking his chin in Hawker's direction, Clinton puts on a bit of mock dismay, "I specifically asked for the 'Lot' of bacon, how is it they still manage that pile if I -really- got the Lot?" He eases into a seat, setting down his coffee and Plate o'Bacon -- Which now receives a mock scowl. Arching his eyebrows upward, he chuckles a bit at Zoey, "Minorly terrifying... Guess I'll take it." Accepting her hand for a firm, quick squeeze, "Zoey. Clinton Cutler, and..." He glances at his shoulder briefly, giving thoughtful pause, "Eh, one-of-many, here. Pretty communal." Vague crazy-talk is becoming a second language.
And, at least briefly, there goes Aurore's good mood. So much for her hope that a certain rampantly crazy acquaintance was no longer anywhere within shooting range of her or anyone she knew. Her smile flickers away, Hawker receives a rather intense look as she confirms that it really *is* him... then she collects her purchases and moves to join Zoey and Clinton.
"I heard his introduction," she says quietly, nodding towards Clinton's shoulder, "but I can't presently see him, myself. Just sense his presence. Zoey's a little more attuned to that precise side of things than I am. Though I agree with her on the 'minorly terrifying' front."
Hawker still remembered Aurore..who couldn't? She was the Abernathy who didn't seemingly go around wanting to stab people, or eat spiders. At least not that he's heard, but once his sweet tea arrives, he swirls the straw in it before poking the lemon wedge to the bottom of the glass with the straw, and takes a sip. He's also doing good at ignoring the look of doom aimed at his back! See?
Zoey's nail polished is chipped. She shakes Clinton's hand, nods to Aurore. "Right, but it's not like you're actively trying, so it's not your fault," she tells Clinton amiably. Ooh, fruit cup. "Is that for me?" she asks Aurore with hopeful tones, gesturing toward the bowl of fruit complete with a dollop of plain yogurt to the side. Hawker is peered at. She glances sidelong at Aurore and murmurs, "He's not another one like last time, is he? You made a face."
"Ah." Nodding and taking a sip from his coffee mug before elaborating on that, Clinton offers, "A... sort of nickname I picked up. In a dream, I think, to go full-oddball on you." Huffing out a bit of a chuckle, he adds, "Frankly, it gets hard to tell when I'm being weird these days..." Slowly being pulled into the role of the Hissu-Kag can pull one a touch out of sync with 'reality'. "I'm... Well, I think I am and can claim to be a philosophical pacifist. That said, I'm coming around to understand the terror part."
Partly being helpful, and partly narcing him out to a pair that it regards as potentially more reliable friends than the Uratha in general, the little toad spirit provides a brief visual hallucination for Zoey and Aurore in turn. A rangy black wolf sits beside Clinton's chair. A terrible, fresh scar begins at its side, moves across its belly, and terminates on its opposite side. Its pale blue eyes match the man's. The visual fades quickly.
"Yes, it's for you," Aurore assures Zoey, mustering a warm smile for her... before shooting a markedly more pensive look in Hawker's direction. "No. No... he's... different. I'm not sure what he is now. 'Loose cannon' is probably always going to be a safe description," she murmurs, "but I'd frankly be astonished if he ever had the capacity to become like the last one."
Her voice trails off as she takes in the toad's vision - a shiver running down her spine confirming its nature as a numenous spirit-manifestation. "Oookay," she murmurs, before nodding cautious gratitude in the direction of Clinton's toad-bearing shoulder. "So, ahh, *you're* Bites-the-Blade?", she ventures quietly. "I admit I'd assumed that was your companion naming itself."
Hawker catches a new spirit right? Now that his order is in, he begins to softly whisper to him self, litany of gibberish to those not in the know..but spirits respond, speaking back. One of the new found abilities of his, though it seems the conversation is benign, gauging more what is going on where. Like he's just chatting to a friend at a bar. At least he's well adjusted in one capacity, and he's entirely having the spirit fill him in on if Aurore is trying to get him in trouble! Ruh Roh!
"My friend is better at being not-weird than I am," Zoey informs Clinton, eyes flicking to the image of the wolf and lingering well after it fades away. "Ohhhhh. I think I remember this. He has names." She takes the fruit cup and slides it over in front of herself. Blinking twice, she looks back over at Aurore with a sort of inquisitive look, like she's not sure about something. Then she nods. "...Drake?" she murmurs, eyes unfocusing. "Yes. Right. Um." Wheeling around to the present (somewhat), Zoey tells Clinton, "I get lots of names in dreams. And other things. Sometimes I remember people I haven't met from dreams. It's weird." She picks up a spoon and chases a bit of honeydew melon with it, scooping it up into her mouth.
Not generally clued in on all of the batrachian's visual commentary, Clinton is noticably taken aback. He tenses, and his expression falls to neutral. Buying himself a few more seconds to think by way of drinking coffee, he also makes a production out of settling the mug back down on the table. He drums his fingers upon the table a few times before actually responding, "Forgive the increasingly-dated reference, but we're drifting a little into 'Talking About Fight Club' territory, here." Leaning back in his seat, he offers another smile, this time small-yet-pleasant. To Aurore: "Yes, though.. A little intimate, maybe?" Tilting his head curiously to one side, he looks to Zoey, "Huh. That's... Pretty cool, actually. This an all the time thing, or just once in a while?"
Aurore offer a gentle shrug to Clinton. "I apologise. I'm still a little thrown by receiving that sort of introduction at all," she says softly. "They tend not to provide names for *other* people. It's rather an accolade. But, ahh, yes. Fight Club indeed."
At the moment, the spirit-fu is strong in Maddy's - the warmer weather seemingly having drawn out a rather odd crowd, to replace the students who would normally be here at this time of the morning when the university was in session. Hawker sits alone at the counter, muttering in Spirit-Speech. Aurore, Clinton and Zoey share a table by the window, and are engaged in quiet conversation.
<<Zoey passes a Disquiet check; Aurore fails>>
Hawker actually doesn't overly use the spirit speak is the thing, because even to him, it is yet weird. But then bacon and hash and biscuits is arriving, and he for the moment, forgets it, to begin eating his meal. High protein diet, which he seems to burn off as quick as he eats! Though he still listens to the dinner, in case Aurore decides to possibly introduce him or some such!
"Sorry," Zoey immediately tells Clinton. "Sometimes I forget I'm in Fight Club. Or something like that, because I'm not in your Fight Club, but I know about Fight Clubs? Anyway. Um, all of this is a kind of all the time thing, I guess? I don't really remember a time before this." She waves her hand vaguely. "Dreams and things. It's hard to remember if I'm asleep or awake sometimes." She looks over at Aurore and smiles suddenly.
Holding up a hand in vague reassurance, Clinton shakes his head a bit, "I'm not personally offended or anything so much as... Even if I knew more about you, I still wouldn't be exactly sure what I could talk about and who it might piss off." He flashes a quick grin, "I'm fascinated, though." Finishing off his coffee, he shifts in his seat and rummages through his pockets for a business card that is no longer there. "Uh... anyway. I'd love to talk about it more, but I really need to get my hitcher back home before she gets us all in trouble." Getting to his feet, he nods again, "I'm still looking for a specific house, hotel living officially. Another time and place, hopefully?"
Slowly and quietly opening the door, a /big/ guy enters... Like, over seven feet tall. He has muscles for /days/, and a face that looks half-beaten in. His feet are the size of spades, and have been clothed in huge ass shoes. Wearing a leather jacket that extends down to his feet, and a t-shirt thats all but /bulging/ from the muscle in it, he puts his feet down quietly and trying to be soft... But you can still /easily/ hear the weight behind those steps. He isn't just big, or massive... he has the mass to go behind it (Size 6, 550 pounds). This monster who looks like the love child of the incredible hulk and a boulder, is known by one name... Draco. Not that anyone in town would be used to seeing him, of course, as he shuffles his way towards a table.
Chuckling softly, Aurore raises a hand in farewell to the mildly-unsettling Clinton and his invisible hitch-hiker. "Good luck with that," she says softly. Zoey receives a warm and rather curious grin in response to the pink-haired shaman's sudden smile... then she really does pull a face, as the hulking new arrival triggers all sorts of internal warning-bells.
Hawker actually doesn't feel any thing is wrong by Draco entering inherently, it's how Aurore reacts that makes him look over. Also the man is huge, a potentional challenge, a madness twinged grin hits his features briefly. "Some thing wrong Miss Aurore?" He asks in a surprisingly even friendly tone, see? He -can- behave, briefly, for maybe a few minutes a day.
"Maybe!" Zoey tells Clinton in bright tones. "His eyes are very blue," she asides to Aurore. And then she peers at her friend's face again. Eyebrows go up, and she directs her attention to the man-mountain that is Draco. "Oh," she murmurs. "Today is a little weird, isn't it? Even for me." She spoons a couple of grapes up from her bowl of fruit and starts chewing.
Not saying anything as he sits down slowly and quietly, Draco looks around quietly as he hunches over slightly, /trying/ to not attract attention, which probably draws even more attention to him as he hunches over the table. A server lady comes towards him, her eyes protraying disgust as she says in a bitchy tone. "Can I help you?" Before Draco slowly nods and asks quietly "A waffle.... Please?" His words slow and probably making him sound a bit retarded, as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a twenty.
Aurore half-suppresses a shudder, biting her lower lip as she attempts to focus upon her coffee and cake and *not look over there*. After a few moments, she musters a wan little smile for Zoey. "You like blue, don't you? And yeah... today's... odd," she murmurs ruefully. "I sometimes wonder if this is really some sort of training ground for one of the Fight Clubs. See what staff can remotely cope with working here."
"That would make sense. Kind of," Zoey says, putting her spoon down to hug herself and rub her upper arms like she's trying to warm them up. "I don't know what it is about that guy. He's really big. I think I might remember something about it but I'm not sure. Sometimes I twig into something after encountering it."
Hawker is ignored by Aurore, when he was trying to be nice, but his food is rapidly disappearing, he has never truly readjusted to civvie life. Even though he cooks like a gourmet, he hardly takes the time to enjoy eating!
The waitress leaving Draco, the big man stays sitting where he is, a couple tables away, and not really interacting with anyone for the moment, his eyes resting on the table as he reaches out for the fork, picking it up as if its almost /dainty/, before looking around for a moment. There is something about a... Big guy? Looking towards Zoey, he stares at her for a moment before slowly asking in that /mountainous/ voice, "Whom?" Another one of those /damn/ things, because of how deep his voice is.
Aurore worriedly touches a hand to Zoey's shoulder, and musters the courage and self-control required to peek up - just in time for Draco to speak. She cringes again, words dying in her throat. She winds up waving a vague acknowledgement in Hawker's direction, before dropping her gaze once more, gulping down a mouthful of coffee.
"Uhhhhhhh," says Zoey, eyes widening. "...You? You're very big. You must have a... hard time... finding pants that fit," she stammers at Draco. She looks to Aurore, perhaps looking for reassurance.
Hawker shifts, he's been out classed in the being a giant department, but at least he's fully watching now. Curiousity more then any thing else. "You could say -hello- Aurore. Instead of trying to drown in coffee..which is by far inferior to Sweet Tea." He says, lifting his partially emptied glass of it towards her and Zoey.
"Oh... Sorry?" Draco says slowly, sounding like he is going FULL RETARD... Before glancing at Aurore and staring at her curiously... Before blinking and wincing, then looking back down at his table for a moment, before saying quietly "Wait... Pants? They aren't..." he trails off as he pulls back a bit to see if the serpent broke free. Because yes, he /does/ have that as a problem.
Aurore closes her eyes for a few moments, slowly inhaling the soothing aromas of coffee and cake. "I'm... not even going to *try* debating polite behaviour with you, Hawker," she says in a rather shaky voice. "I'm just glad that you haven't turned up with 'company' this time. And no, I don't believe that anyone is hanging out of anywhere they shouldn't. Thankfully."
Zoey is, for the moment, kind of puzzled. So she just nods, directing her attention over at Hawker for a moment before murmuring to Aurore, "Are you OK staying, or should we go?" If they're going to go, she's gonna eat her fruit bowl much, much faster. And she sets to work doing that.
Hawker cocks his head a bit, he has -alot- of odd company these days. "These days I'm slowing down, I adopted a kid." He drops that bomb on Aurore with a slight grin. "Slow down there Hoss..good way to get a bellyache." He teases Zoey! "And I still have puppies up for grabs if you want one Aurore; all trained now. No messes on the carpets!"
Getting ignored again, Draco sets to watching the waitress that went to get him food... And isn't. She is steadfastly ignoring him, and giving food to everyone else. Unbeknowst to him, she didn't even place his order, instead keeping the twenty that he had given her. Illegal and bitchy? yes... But no one will mind it.
Aurore flashes a look of frightened disbelief in Hawker's direction, before dropping her gaze to what *had* been meant to be a pleasant treat for herself, to accompany a pleasant (if occult-focused) chat with a friend. "I think that I might cause less of a scene if I run away shortly," she murmurs to Zoey. "I can take the cake in a napkin; I'll just finish my coffee first. If that's okay with you?"
"That's OK with me," Zoey tells Aurore around a mouthful of fruit. She wrinkles her nose in Hawker's direction. "S'fine," she tells him. Look, if Aurore's not comfortable with Hawker, Zoey ain't gonna give him the time of day. Not that she's reliable for timekeeping, but that's besides the point.
It is, in fact, easier to try to ignore Draco.
Sighing quietly as he finally realizes his food isn't coming, and that people are disliking his presence, Draco stands up and moves near silently, slipping out the door again quietly and without fuss as he bows his head.
Hawker rolls his shoulders a bit at Zoey, watching a potentional rival for Hulk of Fallcoast shift, then his eyes settle back on Aurore. "No really! I'm a parent now!" Which ..actually disturbs effectively every one who knows Hawker. "Oughta swing by my establishment some time Aurore. I'll make sure you and your friends drink free." Or eat free if they ain't drinking.
"How. On. *Earth?!?* No, actually, I don't even want to know," Aurore says darkly, darting another glance in Hawker's direction. "I do *not* want to know what was involved in making that possible." She downs the remainder of her coffee, snaring a paper napkin in which to bundle up her cake. "But, I'll, ahh, bear the offer of freebies in mind."
Zoey keeps gobbling her fruit bowl down, finishing with a little burp that she sort of half-manages to cover. She shoots a slightly concerned look Aurore's way and reaches over to pat the other woman's shoulder. Awkwardly.
Hawker almost snickers when Aurore shows surprise about it. "Don't worry..I adopted a Skinner, but I won't let her make the bad life choices some of us have made. Course it might be genetic with her being a Skinner." He admits in a playful tone and moves to slip a twenty onto the counter top and then a second, and gestures at Zoey and Aurore. "Ciao girls. I'll catch you at work one of these days Aurore." He some how remembers -that-.
Aurore pauses, realising that Hawker is about to pre-empt her own escape... and that the (even more) huge and unsettling freak has somehow skulked out, unnoticed. "...hrmm," she observes, before forcing herself to offer a hand-wave in farewell to Hawker. "I suspect I'll see you around," she manages.