2020-10-20: Pretty is Which Pretty Does - Lochlan and Parker Meet
| Pretty is Which Pretty Does[1] - Lochlan and Parker Meet | |
|---|---|
| While investigating a part of her new city, Eyes-in-the-Dark finds a funeral home and meets the mortician... who happens to be supernatural | |
| IC Date | October 20, 2020 |
| IC Time | afternoon |
| Players | Eyes-in-the-Dark & Lochlan |
| Location | Underhill Funeral Home |
| Spheres | Changeling & Shifter |
| Theme Song | Wall to Wall Cobwebs by Buckethead |
The rail thin one eyed mortician sits in the lobby of the mortuary, a strange looking leather bound book is open on the coffee table in front of him, and a laptop is next to it. His one good eye is bleary looking, as though he has been up all night. An empty cup of coffee seems to be a testament to that fact. It is still several hours before the first service is scheduled for the day, so there are no customers or bereaved in the building.
Eyes-in-the-Darkness, as Parker thinks of herself, has decided to explore the city and what better way to do so than invisibly in the form of a spread out mass of spiders, literally thousands of them. Having taken up residence east of the city, on the edge of the desert, a westerly crawl is in order. She's not released herself into the microcosm of the little forms' minds but initially she doesn't control the drones fully, letting them creep about and find... interesting things for her to actually focus on.
Its unclear exactly what it was that brought the funeral home to the attention of the first drone, or even the second, but by the time the first leader arrives it is obviously the faint scent of decay blending with the stronger scent of embalming fluids and cleansers.
The spiders begin to infiltrate the building, as there are always nooks and crannies such small creatures can creep into. Finding the lobby, the leaders stay concealed in corners, shadows and cracks in the molding while drones begin to explore the room and even a few approach the mortician reading a book. A few even begin to crawl up the legs of the table as a few of the leaders can see the book and Eyes' is curious what the book is about.
The page the book is open to is a list of names written in black ink, in an archaic form. Every single name is crossed out with a red line. If the book is filled with pages like this, it would easily be hundreds upon hundreds of names. Lochlan seems to be cross referencing each and every one with internet searches on his laptop, one at a time. Frequently, the search results in a headline involving a missing person or a violent death. Eventually, Lochlan notices one of the spiders. He speaks in a soft whisper, "Hello, little eight legged friend. You should feel free to stay as long as you wish, but be careful once the funeral services begin in the afternoon. Sadly, not all my customers are as understanding as myself." Whether Lochlan actually believes the spider can understand him or whether he is simply speaking out loud, is difficult to tell. He quickly scrubs his hands through his hair in an attempt to help wake himself up, "If only I had eight arms and eight eyes like you. I could make my way through this list so much faster," he whispers.
First there was one spider and it seemed to bob its cephalothorax by lowering its front four legs while raising up its rear pairs. Then there were two, then eigth, then... a score? All drones. Some of them scurry over the book while others walk around the book. The leaders split their attention, half watching the book the other half examining the man because... this is not a normal reaction... Eyes had totally expected to lose that first drone to an attempt to smash it with either the book or simply with a hand.
Lochlan tilts his head to the side curiously as it becomes increasingly obvious that there is more than one spider, and that the spiders are acting in concert. He watches the spiders watch him for a moment, and then pulls out a cell phone and quickly taps off a text message. He puts the phone away and settles back in his chair, and whispers, "Did one of my kith send you, little spiders? Unfortunately, if they did, I do not possess the same talent for conversing with your kind. But if you like, I can send my man out to the pet store to get you some flies or crickets for lunch."
As if on cue, a man comes down the spiral staircase. He is in his 50s, with a serious expression and a moderately priced black suit. The very model of an undertaker. "Sir, did I read your text correctly? You need flies?"
Lochlan nods his head in response to the question, though he continues studying the spiders that are invading his coffee table. The employee, because it must be some kind of employee if he is willing to drop everything and run to the store for insects... resigns himself to the errand with a sigh, and is out the front door just like that.
The spiders continue their non-random movement around the table while a few more start crawling up the chair legs also... including one of the leaders. Then the man speaks again and, on the voicing of the fifth word all of them stop. There's no motion from the spiders until the name of their kind is voiced and then motion begins again. Then, when new person appears, the spiders cease to move again until the man leaves and motion resumes once more. Why the stopping, guessing would have to be done for the time being.
Lochlan himself now becomes incredibly still as he watches the spiders movements on the table. For now at least, he seems content to take a break from his research and let whatever the spiders are planning play out.
The spiders on the table begin crawling into the pages of the book while the spiders crawling up the chair begin walking along Lochlan's pants. As they are observed it can be seen that there are a variety of different species, some of them quite venomous if they are actually what they seem.
Behind Lochlan, on the wall, a large mass of spiders is building up in his blind spot. Eyes uses her uncanny knack to do partial shape shifting to create the mechanisms to speak within this mass on the wall and then, with a slightly breathy female voice, she says, "We are not hungry but thank you," and then asks, "What do you mean by 'kith'?"
If Lochlan is at all concerned about the spiders climbing along his legs, it is not yet obvious. In fact, when the voice begins to speak behind him, a smile begins to slowly spread across his face like a crack creeping out from underfoot on the surface of a frozen lake. "I mean my extended family. I have cousins who speak to spiders, and whom spiders whisper back to. I don't share the talent, unfortunately."
"I see," the breathy woman speaks from somewhere near the ceiling on the wall behind Lochlan.
If it hadn't been obvious before it is now quite obvious that that spiders on the mortitian are actually examining the man's clothing.
Meanwhile, the spiders on the table continue to examine the book. To facilitate this, three of the tiny spiders merge into one moderately sized tarantula which actually starts fanning the pages creating more gaps for the smaller spiders to enter as more of their kind join them around the book.
Again the voice speaks, "Family...." she says, "Interesting... and some can speak with spiders... how closely tied to spider-kin are these kith of yours... mister... Underhill?" That last sounds like a guess. And wether or not the entity knows of the 1950s pop culture reference there is no indication in the way she(?) speaks.
Aside from the first few pages of the book, which are a story about one of 'Charon's Legions' battling and slaughtering the inhabitants of a 'new world,' the rest of the book is just like the pages Lochlan had the book open to... names written in black, and crossed out in red.
"Hmmm... think of us more as neighbors to spiders since man first learned to build huts to keep the winter at bay," Lochlan whispers... always whispers, "We walked next to spiders in their walls. We crawled with them under the floors and beneath the stairs. I suppose over time, just like with any neighbor, some of us learned how to say hello."
"I see," Eyes says in her breathy but not nearly as quiet voice.
Apparently satisfied with the book the spiders on the table disperse, some of them going to the walls to slowly join with the growing mass there while others go to the chair to continue the examination of the man's outfit at the close up view only a spider or an insect could get.
"Would you tell me more?" she (oh yes, it is definitely a she) asks. "Would you like to ask questions? I'll tell you no lie, you have my word."
"I do have many questions for you... but first, how should I address you?" Lochlan asks with a sense of whimsy in his hushed voice.
"Call us Eyes-in-the-Dark," Eyes' breathy voice says, coming from a few feet to the left of where it had been coming from before as the mass apparently moved since the last time it spoke.
And on Lochlan's person there are now spiders from the hem of his pants to the collar of his shirt; not so many that he is carpeted with them, as the spider population on him is fairly sparse, but anyone looking at him would not miss that there are multiple arachnids moving about, feeling the fabric and looking at the cut of the garb.
And again the voice has shifted a bit in location when it speaks, not so much and closer to the floor than before, "Did we guess your name correctly or should you introduce yourself as well, sir?"
"My apologies for my rudeness, I have had a long night into a longer morning," Lochlan whispers before his hand slowly raises, careful not to brush aside or crush any of the arachnids, to smooth out his ruffled hair and make himself slightly more presentable, "My name is Lochlan Underhill. I run this fine funeral home with the help of my brother, who has sadly passed on." He pauses to muse for a moment, before saying with a soft shiver in his voice, "Eyes in the Dark. What a beautiful name."
"I do not feel you were rude, Mister Underhill," Eyes says, now sounding like she is speaking from the floor. "I understand that, given the circumstances of your brother, I should say 'my condolences'."
The spiders that have been examining Lochlan begin to crawl down his body now, when they reach the chair they transfer to it and begin to crawl down to the floor as well.
"Oh, no need for condolences. It happened a long time ago, and we have gotten past it," Lochlan whispers. Once the spiders have finished crawling down his pant leg, he will rise and take a single step away from his chair, careful not to step on any of the arachnids. "I hope you don't mind if I stretch my legs, Eyes-in-the-Dark. I was sitting in that chair for quite some time before you came along."
The spiders are all collecting on the opposite side of the table from Lochlan at this point, still maintaining the vocal apparatus to manage human speech as they gather into a writhing mass. "Why would we mind," she asks. "You had offered information. The way you speak of your brother makes me think of a ghost... a member of the restless dead. When someone who has died comes back. Is it correct to assume that this is what you are referring to related to your brother?"
Lochlan's smile widens a little more, "Indeed. Drowned as a child. He is unfortunately away on business, otherwise I'm sure he would love to meet you." He waits patiently, hands tucked behind his back as he watches the spiders continue to pile ontop of each other. His rasping whisper of a voice barely makes it across the table. If the book is once again spider free, he will slip a cloth book mark between the pages to mark his place, and gently close it. "Wouldn't want to damage the spine."
"Never intentionally at least," Eyes says in grim humor related to the comment about damaging spines, although her tone doesn't mesh with talking about books. "What are you then, Mister Underhill, some sort of vampire? or are you a mage?" she asks and then before giving him a chance to answer, she says, "You may want to tell your man not to return, my presence might be disturbing to him even if you are accepting of it," in a soft recommendation.
"Neither," he answers with a whisper, "Something a step further removed from humanity... and a step closer to it." Lochlan pulls his cell phone from his pocket and looks like he is ready to text his employee. "If you mention it because you do not wish to reveal yourself to him, then I will let him know to come in the back. If you mention it because you are concerned how he might react... well, he has seen more alien things than you inside these walls. Though I will say you give some of the strangest sights I've seen a run for their money."
"There are strange sights and there are horror inducing visages. If you know about those things I named then you may know more. At this point, what do you think I am?" the voice out of the mass of spiders asks.
Lochlan fires off a quick text and then puts his phone away, "In that event, we should take the elevator down. Customers do occasionally come in. I usually hear them coming, but every once in awhile there is a stealthy one," he whispers. "I honestly do not know. I would guess a Nightmare, if I sensed any of the dreaming on you; but I do not." He scoops up the book, but leaves his laptop on the coffee table. "Care to accompany me to the morgue?"
"We can accompany you there," she says as the mass of spiders skurry along near but not under Lochlan's feet.
Lochlan walks over to the antique elevator, and presses the only button on the device. A rattling sound fills the room, followed eventually by a single ringing of a bell before the door slides open. Lochlan steps to the side and motions in a gentlemanly fashion, "Please, all aboard."
The mass of spiders scurry into the elevator and up its walls with a larger clump in a back corner to maintain the vocal capability although Eyes says nothing at this point.
Lochlan steps onto the elevator and pushes another button. It is a short ride down, but all elevator rides are awkward, no matter how long or short.
With another ding, the elevator doors open and Lochlan steps out of the elevator, "Please, if you would care to step into my office," Lochlan whispers to the mass of spiders.
"Of course," Eyes says as Lochlan steps out first. The spiders skurry towards the front of the elevator and begin to coaless. What steps out of the elevator is a singular being, a six-foot tall spider-taur with a humanoid female form extending upwards from the front of an enormous spider's cephalothorax. The same voice, less breathy than before, speaks out of the being's mouth as she says, "Tell me more about these Nightmares you spoke of," adding, "Despite my appearance, I assure you I am not one of them." The pedipalps beside her mouth gesticulate as she speaks, punctuating her assurance with a sweeping right hand wave.
Lochlan takes in Eyes-in-the-Dark's new arachnataur form with a singular admiring eye, "Has anyone ever told you that you are magnificent?" Lochlan whispers before quickly shaking his head and getting back to the subject at hand, "Nightmares... hmmm... where to begin. Have you ever had a nightmare? In your sleep that is. A dream that frightened you with great intensity?"
"Magnificient?" Eyes-in-the-Dark asks. "No, but... those who see this form rarely converse with me," she explains. Then, on the subject of nightmares, she asks, "Personally? No, dreams are a relatively knew experience for me," she explains, "Although I do have memories of childhood nightmares. They scared the girl completely out of slumber sometimes."
"There you go," Lochlan does not inquire who Eyes-in-the-Dark is refering to by 'the girl.' Rather he just moves on with his explanation, "When the girl woke, the nightmares went on their merry way. Eventually, they make their way from the Dreaming to this realm... or near enough to it. Usually more twisted than they were even in her dreams."
Eyes-in-the-Dark's legs skurry as she walks, moving faster than a human's would to cover the same distance as they move though it multiple times. She circles Lochlan, always facing forward as her eight legs take her sideways though the arced path. She frowns and asks, "The Dreaming... another world of sorts I assume? Are Nightmares the only things that come out of it?"
Shaking his head, "No, but if you ask my opinion, they are the most interesting company to come out of it," Lochlan whispers before he hops up to sit upon the autopsy table, "Originally, they say, all things came from the Dreaming. Just as all things will eventually succumb to the oblivion of Winter. These days, it is a more distant realm. It is difficult for creatures from the Dreaming to cross the divide into our own realm. Even when they do, they are short lived, for humanities disbelief is like a poison to them."
"Interesting," she says, drawing out the hissing S sound in the word. "Sounds something like the Umbra," she says. She then cocks her head to one side and says, "Have you ever heard of it or... were-creatures?" She stops circling Lochlan and looks around the room at this point, as if this is the first moment she's taken to truly take in the nature of the room.
"I have heard mention of the shifters from others of my kind. I suspect I may have even met a few who are kin to us," Lochlan whispers as he examines the arachnataur's anatomy whenever she circles past, "But this is the first I have heard of this shadow," he pauses for a moment, "So you are a... were-spiders? Or is it weres-spider? Like attorneys general?"
"Werespider, singular," she says with a wave of her seemingly more animated right hand cheek pedipalp. "Despite the plurality of the form you met me in, I am but myself no matter the form I wear," she explains. "There are many changing breeds but it is the wolves, nearly rabid even if not tainted, that you must truly watch out for, Mister Underhill."
Eyes-in-the-Dark leans in close and reaches towards Lochlan's face with her left hand, coming close to brushing the eye patch without actually touching it. "What, if I may ask it of you now, is your kind called?" she asks in turn.
He does not flinch back from the strange alien hand that reaches out to nearly touch his face. And then something happens with reality. Like there was a smudge on the lens, and now that it has been wiped away it is weird to think that anyone could mistake Lochlan for a human...
If Lochlan's mortal seeming is thin, his fae mien can only be described as gaunt. His face is a mask of pale alabaster skin. His lips are thin and nearly the same color as the rest of his skin. Only the barest suggestion of a nose anchors the rest of his. The one good eye he has is like a portal into pure oblivion, a black orb glinting like ink within an overflowing inkwell. The other eye is covered by a simple white strip of cloth tied around his head in a primitive eye patch, with a Celtic eye pattern stitched into it with black thread. Lochlan's hair is a shade of black so deep it is almost blue. Overall, he is handsome enough for a Sluagh.
His outfit is funereal, a Victorian style suit of all blacks and greys. Silver threaded finery, watches, and jewelry decorate the suit like glinting silver stars hanging in a dark evening sky. His hands are covered in black driving gloves so tight and thin you can see his knuckle bones through the leather.
"I am Kithain. A Sluagh. One of the Fae."
Eyes-in-the-Dark looks at Lochlan. Truly looks at him, including tilting her head this way and that to change the perspective for her multiple eyes. Her human-like lips curl up into a smile and as she licks them with a human tongue her pedipalps touch the tip of it in a slow caress. She then says, "You strike a dashing figure, Mister Underhill," almost as if understanding the phrase for the first time.
"If we are being formal that way, as those names sound, you should know that my kind are called Ananasi by the other Ovid, or Changing Breed as they wish to style themselves, among who are the Garou of whom I warned you earlier." She bows her torso as she speaks sweeping outward with both her human arms and her facial pedipalps while lowering her spider body as well by adjusting her front and hind legs.
Lochlan hops off of the embalming table to sweep an exagerated, low sweeping bow that seems like it should be impossible. Like there are no bones in that wire thin frame, and he is kept upright by something far less natural and far more unknowable. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Dark of the Ananasi."
The pair of... fellow creatures of the dark if not actually friends, continue to trade pleasantries until his phone chrips and he's called away for business.
Eyes-in-the-Dark, at that time, reverts to her crawlerling form and rides back up the elevator then climbs out of the top and though the mechanisms to the roof and departs the funeral home a little wiser and with questions she seeks to explore in the future.
- ↑ Quoted from Pretty is That Pritty Does
