Trafalgar D. Water Law (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
memento_corazon) wrote2019-11-18 11:01 pm
memento_corazon) wrote2019-11-18 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
I must be dreaming cause I don't believe in ghosts
[Rosinante was late this morning, although Law knew why. He was picking up breakfast, he always offered to do it for them, and Law always put a little money in the heart shaped basket on Rosinante's desk to try to make up for it. Sometimes it got accepted, sometimes it ended up back on Law's desk, but the tradition of Rosinante bringing breakfast for them to work was a consistent.
It was one of many things that were constants for them. Rosinante got breakfast, Law looked over the early work that was set up for them, the files given that came from their superiors and he sorted out which ones he felt were needed to be dealt with first. Rosinante would skim through everything, he always did, the man was meticulous when it came to their cases. But Law usually had a good eye for what was important first.
Vintage dolls were going missing, and people spoke of seeing a 'centipede made of babies' in the distance. At the distance stated, this suggests a very large entity. And people are starting to feel compelled to purchase dolls and leave them out for this creature.
A cat in the next town had started supposedly speaking and telling fortunes in exchange for fish dinners. Everyone who feeds the cat has seen a rise in income, but feel unhealthily indebted to and will not risk not gifting it more food.
One vintage radio, Marine specific model, that tells the listener something dark they need to hear if put on the right station. The results have supposed driven nine people to suicide, no other information is had.
An apartment owner has sent specific information about a loud and repeating haunting. They've been aware of this haunting for years, a replay of a murder-suicide. However, the issue seems to be escalating and warping the apartment building.
Dozens of others are there, a house of VGGs, Victorian ghost girls, none of which ever actually are described in any way that matches children of that time period, all blond and blue eyed. Of course. Those are a dime a dozen, and hardly ever end with anything. This one though, one that slides out from the stack of ghosts and big foot and magic wells, says that the girl is beautiful, fragile looking, and the people who have encountered her feel like she's about to eat them the entire time. Law adds it to the four files above, on the top of the stack.
He's so caught up in his file hunting that he doesn't notice the sound of Rosinante's footsteps.]
It was one of many things that were constants for them. Rosinante got breakfast, Law looked over the early work that was set up for them, the files given that came from their superiors and he sorted out which ones he felt were needed to be dealt with first. Rosinante would skim through everything, he always did, the man was meticulous when it came to their cases. But Law usually had a good eye for what was important first.
Vintage dolls were going missing, and people spoke of seeing a 'centipede made of babies' in the distance. At the distance stated, this suggests a very large entity. And people are starting to feel compelled to purchase dolls and leave them out for this creature.
A cat in the next town had started supposedly speaking and telling fortunes in exchange for fish dinners. Everyone who feeds the cat has seen a rise in income, but feel unhealthily indebted to and will not risk not gifting it more food.
One vintage radio, Marine specific model, that tells the listener something dark they need to hear if put on the right station. The results have supposed driven nine people to suicide, no other information is had.
An apartment owner has sent specific information about a loud and repeating haunting. They've been aware of this haunting for years, a replay of a murder-suicide. However, the issue seems to be escalating and warping the apartment building.
Dozens of others are there, a house of VGGs, Victorian ghost girls, none of which ever actually are described in any way that matches children of that time period, all blond and blue eyed. Of course. Those are a dime a dozen, and hardly ever end with anything. This one though, one that slides out from the stack of ghosts and big foot and magic wells, says that the girl is beautiful, fragile looking, and the people who have encountered her feel like she's about to eat them the entire time. Law adds it to the four files above, on the top of the stack.
He's so caught up in his file hunting that he doesn't notice the sound of Rosinante's footsteps.]
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Then again, who knows? It really hits Law that he knows virtually nothing about Rosinante. He supposes it's fine, they have a work based friendship after all, but a part of him really wants to know more. Still, it's not the time he thinks. They've got some antiquing to do.]
We end up at a lot of places like that.
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[Because, you know, which old married couples get to go find haunted artifacts and hang out in neighborhoods drenched in the occult?
Actually also there's a lot of things that make them nothing like an old married couple, but that's beside the point. Onward to the store, then, as he gets them down the road.]
So, what are you thinking? Any guesses before we get there? Demon-possessed book, maybe?
[Just a shot in the dark to kill time while they drive, but given the deaths and the lack of animals, demonic forces might actually fit the bill better than ghosts. Or maybe it's the shopkeeper to blame rather than an object inside.]
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He doesn't dislike the idea, though. And that hits him hard, weighing on him in a sort of confusing seriousness that he's unused to. It's not the time for this, it's not the place for this, but there's a part of Law that's distinctly pleased at the comparison in some weird way despite the sheer awkwardness of it.
He tries to push it aside and not think about it. And even if he didn't attempt to, all of the thoughts along that line would cease at the guessing game portion of the drive anyway.
There's usually a conversation like this while they're working, in some form or another.] We've heard of technology being used by the dead in the past. So why not demons? [He frowns, looking out the window again at the identical line of trees in the distance.] I wouldn't even think it was paranormal if it wasn't for how strange it is out here. I can think of a couple of ways this could be faked, but nothing explains the silence.
[Demons scare Law, more than a little. Not that he's ever faced one, personally, but if human evil is so awful and powerful, what can a being like that be capable of?] Have you dealt with anything truly demonic, Rosinante-ya?
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But. Probably just playing along with his joke, because that's all it was. Better focus on the road, and also think about the chances demons could actually be somehow involved.]
No, I haven't. Not as far as I know, anyway. I wouldn't have thought they were even real before I got involved in this job. I tried to read up a bit at one point but it's rare enough that most of the stories seem like there's a lot more bullshit to them than actual demon influence. What about you?
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[Law isn't stupid, demonic or not he knows that the item was dangerous. But even with the assurances of what it was, and how it worked, and why it had to be taken away and kept from the records? Law has suspicions.] I don't know if it really was. It didn't have the signs I read about. It didn't hurt to touch, didn't alter my will, no flies or sulfur. But I'm not an expert. It's not like I can always accurately identify relics from photographs alone.
[The silence continues as they continue down the road. No calls of birds, no insect noises, nothing but the sound of the vehicle.]
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Might have to do some digging in the records when he gets back. Under the table, of course.]
So, you don't think... What are the odds this thing is actually demonic? And if it is, are we prepared for that?
[He glances over at Law, serious this time. He'd made the earlier comment kind of flippantly but now he's really taking it as a serious possibility, and he really doesn't like having to do that. They're better off if this is some kind of curse.]
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But the lack of the signs of nature here really is rattling him. He doesn't know anything off the top of his head that could cause this much silence.]
Demonical incidents are really rare. It's not likely.[He doesn't know how to really fend off something truly demonic. The cases are so isolated, and there's a bit of secrecy involved. So he has very little training in this particular part of their field.] Do you know how to deal with something like that? [Rosinante has more experience than him in the field, if nothing else. So Law assumes he has to have at least heard about something.]
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[And thank goodness, but it does mean he feels out of his depth. He read up on the topic because he was skeptical and a bit curious, not because he thought he'd ever have to deal with it in real life. Or, well, he feared he might, but he certainly didn't want to ever need to.
The possibility feels suddenly real, even if remote. The sort of thing that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.]
From what I've read, though, you need to learn what you're dealing with. Each demon is different. You can't just sprinkle salt around and say some magic words. Sometimes they've made a deal with someone and you have to negotiate, but they're not likely to even try to keep their end of a bargain anyway. If you figure out their individual weakness, or figure out what they're after and why they're here, that's when your odds are supposedly the best. Maybe they're cursed and bound to an object and want to go home, but maybe they've been sent here on a mission, looking for someone or something in particular. Or maybe they're just here to cause chaos for fun.
[Too many options. But what seems to stand out to him is that they're smart, and that careful investigation pays off more than silver bullets or whatever.]
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[He's so grumpy about this. Irritation is quickly overriding his sense of fear and discomfort over the idea of demons.
This is nothing new for Law, though.] I remember reading somewhere about some seals that could potentially bind them, but supposedly only certain people can really make them work. So it's useless for us anyway, unless you have a past in the priesthood you haven't told me about.
[Law snorts, he can't really imagine Rosinante in a cassock and collar. That said, for all he knows Rosinante might have been. He can't see it easily though, there's a certain decorum that should come with that title, and it's hard to lead mass when you're catching on fire from the prayer candles.
The drive is surreal. It seems like they've just started out, so much is the same that it all seems to blend in Law's mind. The area around the road has so few markers that if the place was bigger or had more twists there'd be some very real risk of getting lost here.
Time doesn't lie, though. If they've had time to chat, they'd had time to get somewhere.]
We're getting closer now, aren't we? There's not a lot out this way. [More of the same, deathly quiet landscape. Grass and trees and silence, with a similar house every now and then. But in the distance, Law thinks he can see a sign. And past it, there should be a tiny town with an antique shop they need to search.]
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Must be our town just ahead.
[Is instead all he can really manage to say. His lips set into a firm line.
Better not be any damned demons. Better just be some sort of angry ghost, or some old forgotten curse that needs breaking.
They pass a few quiet farms, paddocks absent of horses or cattle, and he slows the car as buildings spring up around the dusty roadsides. Homes, worn down businesses, the dead shell of a gas station with no prices on the sign out front. But there must be activity here sometimes, because there's a little diner near the center of town with a neon sign reading OPEN, and Y'ALL COME ON IN painted above the doors in flaking pink paint, and a couple of shops have lights on inside and cars parked out front.]
Charming. The whole place feels like it's antiques everywhere you look, who needs a store to sell them.
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[The entire area looks like it's long overdue for a demolition team in Law's opinion. Maybe he'd feel more endeared to the town if it wasn't connected to a particularly deadly case and didn't feel so damn off. But despite the suicides connected to the place, and the unpleasant aura, it seems that life goes on. People really live around here and go about their daily business. There's not much out here, but it seems like there's enough for the locals.
But life doesn't go on without some worry, it seems. Law observes a man coming out of a tiny shop with a sign big faded sign stating "General Store and Grocer", stone faced and checking around him before walking a bit too briskly to his vehicle. No one seems to be loitering or visiting outdoors, there are empty benches and empty chairs that look dusty even from a distance. No one wants to be outside for too long here. He can't see any animals either, save for a single wary looking cat that seems to glare out at them from an open window.
It's also too quiet here too. Without the people around, in buildings and cars, it would be just as silent as the scenery was on their drive.
"I think that's it."
It's impossible to miss The Treasury. It's exactly as expected, just as old fashioned as the rest of the buildings here, aged and worn down looking. There are no cars or trucks in front of it, and Law thinks that if it didn't have the lights on it would look entirely abandoned. The front door is propped open, and the damaged neon sign says "WE COME", the E flickering on and off. "I guess that's close enough..." It's not doing a very good job at coming across as welcoming in any sense. And if Law wasn't here for a job he wouldn't bother going in for any reason.
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He finds a spot to park that's close to the building and turns the car around so it's facing the quickest way out of town before shutting off the engine. In this business, you never know when you'll need to make a hasty escape. And then he looks toward the shop door, glances back over at Law with a shrug of resignation, and finally pockets the keys. He doesn't get out right away, though.]
I'll leave the car unlocked. Got a bad feeling about this place. Do we have a plan other than just walking on in and looking around?
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But this feels bad. There's something gut twisting about it, it's almost like a scene out of a horror flick than something in real life. Law can almost hear the suspenseful music building up, this would be a pivotal scene if this was cinema...
But it's not. It's very real. And Law's imagination is running away with him. It's surely not as bad as it feels, they're both capable of defending themselves anyway, and Rosinante is one hell of a shot. There's nothing to fear, as long as they're reasonably cautious.] I've got nothing. We'll just look for the radio and anything else suspicious. Just be careful, Rosinante-ya. [There's a small pause, and then a nod in Rosinante's direction.] I will too.
[Law exits the vehicle, and to his dismay, the bad feeling that was resting deep in his gut only gets worse as he takes steps towards the shop. No one would be able to tell, though, save for Rosinante. But Rosinante reads Law exceptionally well. And he can surely see the moment of hesitance when Law comes to the door.
But it's barely there, and he heads indoors after a quick look.
The door isn't locked, the signs all state to the business being open, but Law doesn't seen anyone inside the shop at first glance. Not that it means that the building is abandoned. It just wouldn't be hard to hide in here.
It's very cluttered, stacks of overfilled boxes joylessly piled on what might have once been beautiful desks and chairs surround the desk at the front in a claustrophobic way. They're only broken up in their cardboard and wooden monotony by broken vintage televisions equally haphazardly stacked. It's noisy too, a cacophony of random sounds assault Law's ears, clocks upon clocks, and multiple radio and television programs all fighting for dominance. Somewhere in the racket, the sound of a crying doll can be faintly heard, and a entirely too loud music box.
And it just continues on, every view into every room is boxes and noise, old furniture and boxes, all clouded with a dismal layer of grime and dust. It's too much, it's chaotic, it's so loud and harsh.
And yet, it all feels and sounds muted somehow. Like the dust is choking out some of the sound like it is all the colors.]