memento_corazon | I must be dreaming cause I don't believe in ghosts

Entry tags:

ic: au

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why would the animals be missing at all? I don't even hear insects. And this time of year we should.

[The pristine look is starting to feel almost grating to Law. It's frustrating. It's too perfect and Law's stomach feels like it's got a weight in it while he looks around. Worse, while Law claims to love quiet, and often enjoys it thoroughly? The human body is conditioned to expect noise. Save for when the loss or absence of hearing is involved every moment from birth to death comes with a certain amount of ambient sound. And while yes, there's the lightest sound of the wind, it's distant. The sound of their own movements, the closing of the doors, the knocking on her door after the walk up...

It's all so much louder with just the loss of the expected drone that even the countryside should have.

A thin dark haired woman in her forties opens the door soon after, and it's like the world comes to life from inside of her house. The sound of a cat crying towards the back of the room sounds out, with the drone of some sort of machinery, the odd whirring sounds of an aging refrigerator, the chirps of several birds just out of view, and the serenade of soft vintage country music. He's never been particular fan of the genre but right now it's entirely comforting.

The break in the silence is a beautiful thing indeed.

It's not idyllic in here, either. This is a real country home, faded wall paper and the table right next to the door is nearly overflowing with letters and papers, there's dirt on the entryway rug too. It smells a little dusty, along with the scent of incense, and something baking too. The woman herself has either flour or powdered sugar dusted on her apron, and she's visibly irritated at the interruption.

It's real. That's why it all feels so good to him compared to the outside's false perfection and unnatural quiet.]

"Who are you? I don't want to buy anything. I know the lord and I have insurance. You should go home. Quickly." [She looks them over, with shrewd judgement.] "You're not here to sell anything, are you?" [Law shakes his head. He's not the best at this, Rosinante usually smooths things over so nicely when he needs to, but Law is invested today.] No, we're not. We hope you can help us with something. [She's not very interested, from how her nose wrinkles up and her brows furrow.] It's about the list. [Her whole demeanor changes when he brings it up, and she looks around nervously a little.] "Hurry in. Make yourselves comfortable, and goodness please watch your head as you come in!

[There's no answer he can give that will satisfy Law's questioning, or his own for that matter, so he just shrugs. Hopefully they'll have an answer soon. And in preparation for what form that answer might take, he suddenly feels very conscious of where his pistol is. Just, you know, in case.

But the door opens and everything inside feels exceptionally normal, and that contrast is maybe the most jarring of all. He stares past the woman for a moment, assessing what he can see and hear and smell of the inside. Why does that door form some kind of boundary between two worlds? Why has the silence outside stayed outside? He's fine with letting Law talk in the hopes it gives him a few more moments to concentrate on this particularly strange puzzle.

No answer comes, at least not yet, but Rosinante watches the woman's eyes as the list is mentioned. The shift from average, bored, slightly annoyed, to seeming like there might be anyone watching around any corner is striking, but expected of the conspiracy types he's come across in previous missions, so all that skepticism comes flooding right back, pushing at his willingness to be taken in by the strangeness of her neighborhood.

Anyway, he ducks to enter and hits his head all the same, because that's his goddamned life, and the smack rattles his teeth. With one hand rubbing the top of his head, the other closes the door as he follows in after Law.]

Thanks. Sorry we had to drop in without warning, [he says, though it's just a courtesy. Giving some of these folks time to prepare means walking into a whole labyrinth of sticky notes and odd photos and string tacked to walls. Better to get the info without a whole theatrical presentation alongside it.]

Edited (god I'm sorry I switched to prose by habit halfway haha) 2021-09-21 02:44 (UTC)

[When Rosinante hits his head, the woman gasps, but she leaves it when he seems alright. Law just sighs. He'll step in if it's serious, as always, but it very rarely is and a man's pride needs to be considered.

Especially since Rosinante is usually sorely deprived of dignity due to his clumsiness.] "It's fine! I wanted to share this with someone. Go into the parlor, help yourself to a sweet from the jar if you like. I've got to wash up. And let me know if you need some aspirin!" [When she gestures towards the sitting room, Law is a bit thrown off further. Yes, of course not every conspiracy theorist is a chaotic mess with hoards of papers and random charts and a mess of a house. But they often are unstable and unsettled. They tend to be erratic and off and hard to reason with. This woman isn't like that. She all but reeks of grandmother, and the pictures of her and her family that are placed around the room pretty much confirm it.

That said, they've dealt with a monstrous serial killer grandmother so brutal that she was mistaken for being supernatural. Age and appearances mean little in the end. But he does note that several of the older pictures are Marine focused.

He'd normally be less comfortable with sitting while someone he was going to interview was in another room, but there's a large open area that makes up the main room of the home, there's a bar that's being used to separate the kitchen where she's washing up. So she's within view the entire time.

That doesn't make it very easy to talk, though.]

[Rosinante is just paranoid enough to wonder if those Marine photos were placed more prominently so that he'd notice them and feel like he should trust her, as if somehow she had managed to find out they were interested in digging into cases like these and had prepared for their visit.

Surely not.

But it's enough to get his metaphorical hackles up, as if they weren't already. The whole thing bugs him. Still, they're here to hear what she has to say, might as well get to it. He finds a seat in a chair that's too small and tries to keep his knees tucked close enough where he's not occupying half the room himself, then glances over at Law, shoulders shrugging slowly in a concealed sort of sigh, before returning his gaze to the woman in the kitchen.]

I'll be fine, thanks. Mind if I smoke?

[Law is just waiting. He's got ideas but nothing concrete or even worth considering at this point. There are things that could be considered suspicious about the visit already, but also he sees no reason to jump to conclusions yet. All he can do is be prepared for whatever evidence she has.

Or doesn't have for that matter. Just because she seems legit doesn't mean she isn't another wack job wasting their time. At least they're getting on the clock either way.]

"Go head! There should be an ash tray around there somewhere!"

[It doesn't take her much longer to join them though, free of as much flour as possible. Law watches as she touches up her hair, grabs something from a table in the kitchen area, and starts to make her way back to them.

It looks like she's got a folder in her hands.

It's about then when Law is starting to wonder if Rosinante's lean towards strong skepticism is right. The more prepared they are, usually the more paranoid they are.] "Just tell me when you're ready to look through this. I'll answer any questions you might have, but I think this speaks for itself!"

[Yeah, this is looking a little too rehearsed. Rosinante watches as he lights his cigarette, hisses and shakes his hand when he burns himself instead, then focuses on the cigarette this time so he can actually light it.

And then, with a lean, he drags the ash tray closer on the side table once he's spotted it, and glances at Law before nodding to the woman and holding out a hand.]

We'll have a look, thanks. I'm curious to see what you've put together.

[Despite his internal chagrin, he's pretty good at being tactful. Figures that's why Law kept bringing him along in the first place, once they'd met and done a case or two. At least he's good at acting.]

[The woman hands over the folder, and seats herself in an empty chair. And Law just sits and waits while Rosinante looks over her files. They're not entirely professional looking, they were made at home and printed off on a printer with some flaws. There's a couple of water spots too. But the information is organized, and a wealth of information as far as a civilian's work goes. And there's far more information than what the webpage held.

Dellion Conway-40, Dishonorably discharged, arson and suspected robbery, (two months imprisonment) was seen at The Treasury five days after birthday. 6/4. Hung himself.
Cecil Marrins-40, Honorably discharged, partial paralysis after surviving base bombing, was at The Treasury on birthday. 6/4. Bled out after cutting his throat.
Issak White-40, Dishonorably discharged, dependency discharge, at The Treasury six days after birthday. 5/29. Drowned in bathtub.
George Sands-40, Honorably discharged, cancer diagnosis, visited The Treasury three days after birthday. 4/22. Electrocuted in bathtub.
Mack Fisher-40, Dishonorably discharged, unknown misconduct (can't get information on it), was seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 10/2. Self-inflicted burns.
Laurence Roads-40, Dishonorably discharged, war crimes (one year imprisonment), visited The Treasury one day after birthday. 3/5. Bled out, cut three names into his body, could only get two of them though. Amari West, Meri West. I don't know them, not local. Names didn't show up in search.
Beauregard 'Bo' Watanabe-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (Unknown specifically), visited The Treasury four days after birthday. 4/11. Hung himself.
Mary Church-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (PTSD), spotted at The Treasury the day after birthday. 6/1. Hung herself off of Parson's Bridge during the Marine Memorial, rope snapped immediately. Not sure what actually killed her.
Marigold Fisk-40, Honorably discharged, seasickness, made a purchase at The Treasury five days after birthday. 3/16. They said she died from a head injury, accidental. Ellis White, a physician who worked at the hospital, says she bashed her head against the corner of a table until her brain was visible. He said she had already been given a sedative, and broke out of her straightjacket. He's been the best doctor we've had for over a decade, I believe him.
James Marple-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (PTSD), was at The Treasury two days after birthday. 9/26. Jumped off of the roof of The Treasury.
Kathryn 'Kitty' Walker-40, Honorably discharged, dependency discharge, seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 11/7. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Mallon Smithson-40, Honorably discharged, unlisted reason (Came home with a lot more money than expected), was seen at The Treasury the day after his birthday. 1/6. Drowned in Mary Wessel's fish pond.

Another two names are on this list that weren't on the website.
Alfred Wendell-40, dishonorably discharged, drug use, was spotted at The Treasury five days after birthday. 3/31. Ran at the local police with a knife until he was shot down. Footage shows that he didn't take a swing at any point, knife stayed at side although he acted like he was going to cut them.
Dewey Birch-40, dishonorably discharged, assaulted a superior officer, was seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 7/2. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.

All of the names have their own printed out page of information, obituaries, death certificates on some of them, articles from the news about their discharges on some. Besides their age at death and the location they visited within the week of their deaths, all of the potential victims seem to have the area in common. They're not all from one town, but they all came from the small towns locally that surround The Treasury.

The final page has maps on it, showing first the proximity of The Treasury to the local small towns. It's literally smack dab in the middle of three. The second map shows that a Marine recruitment center used to be right where The Treasury now stands. It was demolished, and the antique store took it's place there, apparently. A news article is taped to the back of the page, noting the lack of local wildlife in the last few years, and how trappers were unable to find any sign of animals living in the area that weren't housepets.] Let me see it when you're done please, Rosinante-ya.

[Law really wants to get his hands on it. And while Rosinante reads, the phone rings in the kitchen. And their hostess gets up.] I'll be back in a minute, sorry! Gotta get this. There's something else I want to tell you before you leave too." [And with that, they're left to their own devices again.]

[The timing, like so much else here, is convenient. He scans over all of it, then leans over and passes it off for Law read while he watches her walk away, as if he'll catch some clue to her behavior.]

Let me know if you want quiet, [he mutters, low enough where she probably can't hear over her phone call. They'll want to be audible enough that she doesn't start to wonder why they're sitting in silence over this bombshell she likely thinks she's dropped on them, but a few private comments might be necessary here once Law has a chance to share his thoughts. This is well beyond some amateur investigative work.]

We'll have to ask if we can take this with us.

Thanks. I'm alright for now. [Law takes the file from Rosinante, and starts to skim through it. It's organized, and he still has no idea if this is valid or not. He's not sure if this is just one hell of a string of coincidence, or if there's something sinister at play in this set of small towns. One thing is for sure, though. They know where they'll need to look next.

Meanwhile, their host's phone call is becoming increasingly intense. The woman's voice has raised a good deal from the quiet tone she'd attempted before, and Law sets down the file to listen to her begging.] "No, Emmie, please! I'll fly out to you, I'll take a break, we'll hit that fancy restaurant you like! And the clubs, all of them, I'll pay for whatever you want." [The pleading continues, and Law looks over at Rosinante. He's not even sure what to say. Or think. And he doesn't have much time to articulate his words, because the call ends and their hostess starts walking back to them.] We'll talk soon. I want to hear what else she has to say first.

[The woman returns, visibly upset, but she apologizes and seats herself again.] "Look, I don't know who you two are. But if you can get this information to someone who can help, you'd be saving at least one other life. The police can't help, the Marines insist that there's no connection, but once you're forty here and you've been discharged from service, you get called home. And then you go and listen to that stupid radio, and you're done for. And I don't want that to happen to my baby." [She gestures at the pictures, and points to a Marine woman in one of them that's hanging on the wall near her.] "Emmaline Graves. She was one of their best captains, she's great for inspiring a sense of real justice. Her health just got out of control, so she got her discharge. She doesn't live here, but all of the sudden she wants to come on home for her birthday. And I don't want her to be the next on that list."

[Rosinante likewise trades him that sideways glance at the intensity of the call. Overhearing is way more important than dealing with the files - they have those in hand, they're not going to change right away.

She comes back, and he's about ready to give up on learning anything that way, but she does a helpful job of explaining most of it herself. Rosinante had half been expecting her to ask them to leave, was already preparing to get up, but instead he stays put and nods in sympathy, even if he really doesn't fully grasp what's going on here. Hell, he's barely even sure what questions to ask.]

We're listening. And we'll do our best, to save her life and others too. When's her birthday?

[What's their deadline, in other words.]

[Law is so relieved that Rosinante has the right words to say, he tends to be too blunt himself or doesn't know how to respond in a way that sounds sincere. Rosinante can fake the right demeanor, he's a good actor when the situation calls for it. And his words bring visible relief to the woman standing before them, her tightly pursed lips and wrung hands releasing, shoulders slumping a bit as she speaks again.]

"Thank you, thank you so much! Her birthday is on the twentieth. I know that doesn't give you much time, but if you need anything please let me know. Some of the locals might not be very interested in speaking, but just say that Mrs. Graves sent you if they give you any trouble. And if you need food, rooms to stay, funding, I'll give you whatever I can! Just let me know what I can do for you.".

[Law frowns. It's the seventh. It doesn't give them much time at all, if this is something legitimate. So he stands, they might as well get right to it.] We need to take your research with us. [His voice is calm and firm, it doesn't leave room for argument. Not that he thinks she'd give him any trouble anyway.] "Of course! Whatever you need!" [Law looks to Rosinante, he's ready to leave now. It'll be safer and easier to speak away from here anyway. Rosinante's gift helps a good deal, but Law will still feel more comfortable discussing this elsewhere.] "If my colleague doesn't have any more questions for you, we'll be heading out."

That's very generous of you.

[Really, he means it, though he's not sure what good any of it will do beyond their existing capabilities. Still, he's not one to turn down an offer of help - you never know when you'll need it.

For now, though, he stands, ready to go.]

I don't have further questions right now, but we'll be in touch if there's any way you can help us more. We appreciate everything you've already done.

[He offers a smile, sympathetic and a little sad given the circumstances, but hopefully it's encouraging. Something positive to leave her with as he follows Law out where they can talk more freely.

Well. After he stumbles and faceplants on the floor on the way to the door, but. No big deal. The car keys go flying out of his pocket and bump into his hand as he picks himself up. See? Nice. Totally intentional.]

[Law watches as Rosinante smiles, and he feels a bit encouraged by it. There's something genuinely wonderful about his partner, and in moments like this Law all but adores him. He admires the man's ethics and ability anyway, but the woman has gone from desperate to hopeful in expression, just in response to Rosinante's words and smile. Law could get caught up in it easily, there's something about it that makes his heart beat feel a little faster perhaps.

It's a nice feeling, he decides. And he nods as a sort of goodbye to her, before everything goes as Law should have expected. There's a dramatic faceplant, the poor lady looks worried but all is well. And with her final words, a "Goodbye, and thank you again!" they're out the door.] Sometimes I think you're cursed. [It's not just that Rosinante is clumsy, he takes bad luck to a new level.]

Who knows, maybe I am.

[He flashes an easy smile over at Law, then unlocks the car door and crams himself into the driver's seat.

But that thought's one that's going to worry him, isn't it? Curses aren't real, right? So much of what they run across in their line of work isn't real, as much as some people would like to believe it is.

Most of the time, anyway.

He shakes it off for now and starts the car.]

So, sounds like it's time to go look at some antiques.

[Law has a deep sigh in response, and gets into the car. He'd be happier if he didn't know now that curses are real and possible, even if they're rare. He's pretty sure that Rosinante is just teasing him with the maybe, though.

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.

Like an old married couple, but cooler.

[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.]

[Law scoffs, but it's half-hearted at best.] The older couples have us beat. The only thing cool about us is our job. [Okay, that's not quite how he meant to say it, but if he goes back to correct it he'll just feel awkward. Besides, Rosinante brought up the couple comparison first.

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?

[That's exactly it, their job is very cool! It... also occurs to him, then, that Law didn't even attempt to say they're nothing like a couple, and that makes him think, for a moment.

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?

It all sounds like lies from the outside. [Law huffs, sinking deeper into his coat.] I came in contact with a demonic artifact once. That's what my superior then told me, anyway. It was confiscated within minutes, and I don't have access to the reports.

[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.]

[Law's story makes the idea even more chilling, and Rosinante is quiet for a long while, which only amplifies the silence outside. If something demonic can be so undetectable, at least to an untrained observer, then it leaves a lot of awful possibilities open. But... Well, as Law says, who knows if he was told the truth. And that bothers him just as much - that there's something in human possession that's either so valuable or so terribly powerful that it was labeled "demonic" just to stop anyone asking further questions.

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.]

[Law doesn't want to think that it's possible. And thinking reasonably, there's little reason to rile himself up over the small chance that it is. It's not probable in the least, he knows from their work that confirmed demonic cases are among the lowest percentage of paranormal phenomena recorded. They're most likely going to encounter something else.

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.]

Edited 2022-06-22 02:38 (UTC)

Only from what I've read. It's not the sort of thing you get to practice on a daily basis.

[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.]

I don't like how random it is. Their motives aren't clear, and there's too little in the way of good information.

[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.]

[Very funny, the idea of him being any sort of priest. If he were feeling up to joking around he'd pull up to a church first thing and act like he belonged, just to make Law wonder even more, but the whole demon topic on top of the situation already being completely bizarre has him a little on edge.]

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.

Charming is one word for it.

[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.

(no subject)

callada - 2022-07-09 03:51 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

memento_corazon - 2023-02-17 05:28 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only