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more_magicThe last few days have been nothing but ruin, his few texts to Alex going unanswered and the one call he'd made sent to her voicemail with a speed that suggested something deliberate. The garbage bag with the bat and their fouled sheets still sits in the corner of the bedroom like something evil; he'll need to get rid of it before it starts to smell, but he can't yet. Not when it feels like the last link he has to a girl he never expected.
Alex had accused him that night of being more consumed by the how and not the why, and she hadn't been wrong. The reasons mattered, but not as much as the fact that she'd managed to do something he'd previously thought impossible. She'd let in a Grey, absorbed Helen Watson's spirit in an act of--what? Desperation? Anger? Thoughtless destruction? He still didn't know, any more than he understood how the aftermath of it hadn't left her as unresponsive as the other prospective candidates Lethe had documented and monitored, catatonic shells forever changed by their brush with things beyond the Veil. All Alex had suffered was a rough awakening by some EMT and an extended hospital stay as the fentanyl worked its way out of her system.
And the loss of her friend, her boyfriend, and everyone she'd ever known, but right now Darlington looks at that with a little less pity than he had before.
Were he back in New Haven, he'd have access to the collected stores of Lethe, the files and books and artifacts held at Il Bastone. He'd be able to start making some kind of sense of what he'd learned, falling into research and pulling evidence out of the library; the Albemarle Book and the house itself might disapprove, along with Dawes, but Darlington could weather that scorn for the sake of finding a solution to a mystery he knows would threaten them all. Here, there's nothing, or as good as such. He's done his best, late nights of search after search on his laptop, a glass of scotch beside him and Kirby watching from the couch or curled at the foot of the bed. He'd even tried the Darrow Public Library, not that it led to much of anything other than frustration.
None of it is leading anywhere, until he recalls a fragment of his conversation with Luke at the festival. Like a big library full of scary stuff, he'd said, talking with an odd confidence about some Archive within the bounds of the city containing accounts and records, things that just maybe he'd be able to use. It feels ludicrous to be taking the word of a child, especially at a time like this, but right now Darlington's ready to try venturing down just about any avenue.
Another search turns up an address only a few blocks away, and the next day, Darlington leaves work and heads directly for it. The outside is...unassuming, to say the least, none of the ostentation of the tombs he's used to or even Il Bastone's quiet red-brick grandeur, but he pushes the front door open and steps inside. Whatever he might find, at least it's better than nothing.
Alex had accused him that night of being more consumed by the how and not the why, and she hadn't been wrong. The reasons mattered, but not as much as the fact that she'd managed to do something he'd previously thought impossible. She'd let in a Grey, absorbed Helen Watson's spirit in an act of--what? Desperation? Anger? Thoughtless destruction? He still didn't know, any more than he understood how the aftermath of it hadn't left her as unresponsive as the other prospective candidates Lethe had documented and monitored, catatonic shells forever changed by their brush with things beyond the Veil. All Alex had suffered was a rough awakening by some EMT and an extended hospital stay as the fentanyl worked its way out of her system.
And the loss of her friend, her boyfriend, and everyone she'd ever known, but right now Darlington looks at that with a little less pity than he had before.
Were he back in New Haven, he'd have access to the collected stores of Lethe, the files and books and artifacts held at Il Bastone. He'd be able to start making some kind of sense of what he'd learned, falling into research and pulling evidence out of the library; the Albemarle Book and the house itself might disapprove, along with Dawes, but Darlington could weather that scorn for the sake of finding a solution to a mystery he knows would threaten them all. Here, there's nothing, or as good as such. He's done his best, late nights of search after search on his laptop, a glass of scotch beside him and Kirby watching from the couch or curled at the foot of the bed. He'd even tried the Darrow Public Library, not that it led to much of anything other than frustration.
None of it is leading anywhere, until he recalls a fragment of his conversation with Luke at the festival. Like a big library full of scary stuff, he'd said, talking with an odd confidence about some Archive within the bounds of the city containing accounts and records, things that just maybe he'd be able to use. It feels ludicrous to be taking the word of a child, especially at a time like this, but right now Darlington's ready to try venturing down just about any avenue.
Another search turns up an address only a few blocks away, and the next day, Darlington leaves work and heads directly for it. The outside is...unassuming, to say the least, none of the ostentation of the tombs he's used to or even Il Bastone's quiet red-brick grandeur, but he pushes the front door open and steps inside. Whatever he might find, at least it's better than nothing.
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Date: 2020-07-12 04:13 am (UTC)He sighs. "I've seen it happen to a friend of mine," he explains, trying not to think too hard on it. "We weren't exactly close but it...was something she did intentionally, and ended up saving a lot of lives in the process. Anyway," Eliot clears his throat, "I don't know what the usual circumstances are that would leave someone vulnerable to spirit possession, but...sometimes terrible things just end up happening."
Eliot drums his fingers on the mousepad, willing the software to work faster. He's not exactly alarmed by what Darlington's told him so far but he feels a little concerned, and can't quite manage any sort of normal small talk as a result. "So...and this may be none of my business, but I have to ask--is this ghost shit you're dealing with something other people need to be worried about here? Because if this is on the level of a public danger I'd feel negligent just giving you some basic data and calling it a day, you know?"
That maybe came out a little blunt, and Eliot winces a bit. "Sorry, I've been known to be a busybody. It's just that if people have been seriously harmed by this...Grey of yours, or still could be, I'd like to help, if I can."
It's not a worlds-ending quest, and it's not even Eliot's problem, or strictly his purview. But he still feels a responsibility.
no subject
Date: 2020-07-13 02:45 pm (UTC)Had that ever been a thought at all, in Alex's mind, or had her only drive--then, and now, and in the future--only ever been her own survival? He wishes he could be more certain of the answer.
He does bristle slightly at the next blunt bit of questioning that comes his way, but Darlington can't fault Eliot for it. He would have done the same, were their situations reversed. As a shepherd of Lethe, a guardian between the things in the dark and the rest of the world, he'd have needed to.
"It's not your business," he says, direct but not unkind. "Not that I blame you for asking. Quite frankly, I'm...having trouble balancing what feels like a necessary discretion with wanting to give you as much information as it'll take to help me find some kind of answer." He shakes his head, his smile gone rueful as he thinks.
"I have no reason to think this is a public danger," he says a moment later. "As far as I know, this only happened once, as far as the...affected individual is concerned, and that was back at home. In our world, whatever the approved terminology is. She doesn't seem to know how it happened, and I suppose that's what I'm really trying to understand. In case there's a chance, rare as it might be, that it reoccurs here in the city."
That's not all the why, of course, but for now Darlington hopes it's all the reasoning Eliot needs to know.
no subject
Date: 2020-07-30 03:19 am (UTC)"Ah. I've overstepped, I apologize." He doesn't think Darlington seems offended, exactly, but the crisp politeness gives Eliot pause all the same. "I'm still used to this being the sort of thing that is my business, but I understand." And if he's being honest with himself, he's not sure he really wants to get involved, if whatever happened with this ghost business has Darlington so guarded. If it's personal, it's bound to be messy, and Eliot's life is enough of a mess on its own already.
He clears his throat and stands, going to retrieve the pages from the printer. "Good to know I don't need to reinforce my wards just yet, then." Eliot smiles as he hands them over. "I will say, Darrow seems to have an abundance of ghosts but if that's due to the...physics of this world I don't think anyone's found that out yet. You might be the one to crack it; let us know if you make any breakthroughs, maybe?" He'd love to have more hard data on this sort of thing. If he ends up dying in a version of New Jersey he'd hate to be trapped here for all eternity.
no subject
Date: 2020-07-30 02:30 pm (UTC)The printer whirrs, spitting out a sheaf of pages dense with ink and hopefully enough information that he can find something usable in it. He nods his thanks when Eliot hands them over, his expression shifting briefly to one of more pointed interest at the subject of wards. "It could very well be," he agrees. "Whatever brings the rest of us here, from what seems like a myriad of different places, could make the Veil thinner here. More permeable, or attractive to different kinds of spirits. It's worth looking into."
He pauses, but his resistance only holds out so long. "Speaking of questions it's not quite my place to ask here...how do you set up your wards? The ones I learned are fairly specific to a given circumstance, again mostly to prevent spirit interference, but I've gotten rudimentary practice in others. Closing portals, preventing theft, that kind of thing."