2020.04.15 An Otherworldly Encounter

An Otherworldly Encounter
Beckett arrives at the Apothecary following an unexpected entrant.
IC Date	April 15th, 2020.
IC Time	Evening
Players	Ghostwalker, Floyd
Location	Weeping Fern Apothecary
Prp/Tp	None
Spheres	Shifter, Wraith

Setting

Weeping Fern Apothecary Weeping Fern Apothecary is a warm, welcoming place to enter. Lighting is comfortably lit so that there are no shadows present, the overall lighting diffuse like an overcast day. A wide counter divides the store into front and back, with a wide array of bins, shelves and baskets behind the counter. The faint smell of herbs, earth and incense lingers in the air and on the tongue here.

The counter holds the items of the trade it would seem. Several scales reside there in carefully isolated splendor, with bowls, mortars and pestles, and envelopes standing silent vigil around them. Off to the west is the register and a small kitchenette area next to it for preparing tinctures and ointments.

The north wall holds the oddities in this shop, a stairway going up and a small room built out into the shop itself. On the door is the symbols of an acupuncturist as well as a small plaque stating as much in English.

A small selection of low shelved cases holding small pre-measured packets of the most popular medications or teas break up the area between the counter and entry allowing for quick stops at times.

The smell of this place is an earthy mix of incense and the herbs themselves. Not the spicy lingering of gingerbread at grandmother's house, but the more primal life smell of growing, with undertones of cannabis.

There is a sign here saying - unlicensed healing arts and services>

Shadowlands Setting

This building, if you can call it that, is a patchwork construction. However it's far more complete, and solid than most of what is sent over from the skinlands. With a bit of looking it almost seems like pieces of the building were destroyed with the sole purpose of making the structure more stable and safe for the denizens of the Shadowlands. There's an almost intact table, with half a dozen chairs, a bookcase against one wall, and a few other odds and ends scattered about to make the place more welcoming and give it a feeling of occupancy for anyone who stops in. All of the windows have been boarded over on the outside with plywood like you would see in a hurricane. It's as if it was planned as an oasis in the maelstrom.

Contents: Beckett Jacobs Obvious Exits:

 Basement <Ba>   Exam Room <ER>   Out <O>   Stairs Up <SU>  

Scene

Ghostwalker was beginning to wonder how many apothecaries, pagan shops, new age hangouts, and other hippie lifestyle shops were scattered around prospect. At least he'd never run out of sage supply for miserable bastard cleanse. He steps into the shop, smoothing down his turtleneck and blazer as he did. As he's enjoying the blessing of air-conditioning, he catches a glimpse of someone down on the floor. "Um-- are you alright down there?"

A testament to his age, Floyd doesn't immediately respond to Ghostwalker. The Quick do not see the dead. Not normally, so phantasmal conversation pieces across the Shroud go through one ear and out the other. He sets the mask, which looks like a real face, complete with ears and hair, to the side and pulls out random junk. By the looks of it, from teh remnants of a ship of some kind. It isn't until a random shriek from beyond makes him look off toward the window does he realize there is someone staring at him. Which was odd. His eyes go one way, then the other, then look behind him. There isn't anyone else in the store...so he clears his throat and with an aged accent says. "...Hello?"

Beckett Jacobs blinks slowly behind his full moon glasses. "Uh-- Hi?" He asks tenatively. "Are you doing alright down there?" He extends a hand towards the figure on sitting on the floor. He could only really be addressing Floyd. His gaze shifts to the strange looking mask Floyd has just set down before eying the other oddities he had in his possession. "Do you work here?"

Floyd blinks. Well. This is new. He stands up and looks at himself. "Oh dear. Hold on a sec. I must look stupid." He gives himself some final touches (+Desc change) and pull out a flatcap that he puts on his head. There! Now he is moderately respectable. "Me? Oh. I'm fine. Just hunting for things." He notices Ghostwalker look down at his stuff...he can really see him!...and then looks back to him and when he asks if he works here, he gives Ghostwalker a pensive look. "...Here?" He looks around at the shop, which to him is all sorts of stuff he would NEVER come close to while alive and makes an odd deduction. Does the man not know he is talking to a dead person? Well! Might as well play along. "Why...why yes! Yes. Yes. I do. Welcome!" He gets up to his feet and brushes himself off. "Don't mind the mess! What can I do for you?"

Beckett Jacobs retracts his hand as Floyd stands up on his own. He reaches up to pull his glasses off his own nose, inspecting them for dust. He gives them a gentle nudge against the breast of his own blazer before replacing them. He gives Floyd a once over again, looking over him from head to toe. Was he starting to suspect? Beckett Jacobs says, "You look a little unwell," he notes, but in a polite tone. "I was looking for some sage and... well other things. I was curious. They call these places curiosity shops for a reason, don't they?""

Floyd looks himself over. Oh heavens. "Oh no. I'm fine! Juuuust fine." He smiles with a laugh. "Yeah. Just fine." He looks off toward the, to him, dessicated bottle section and points. "Sage? yes! Why would we NOT have sage! We're an apothecary sir! All herba and remedies and things." He will then escort him to the counter where the herbs are located. "Curiosity shop? What do we look like, a carnival exhibit! I would have you know sir,": ...ugh...he looks around, and notices the rusted sign that makes him internally kick himself in the head. WHy did safe spaces have to be sooooo weird! "We have a licensed Acupuncturist! What kind of a curiosity shop has such techniques at their disposal?"

Beckett Jacobs holds up his hands. "I meant no insult. Ah-- Acupuncture. That's," he pauses to search for the right words. "That's certainly interesting. I'll try anything once. What's it like?" He was still eying the odd bits of junk Floyd had in his possession curiously. He certainly didn't look like the normal sort of customer these sort of places typically catered to. Beckett lacked the both eyeliner of one 'type' and the cannabis scented baja hoodie of the other. Beckett Jacobs also would be escorted along with Floyd to the counter.

Floyd nods emphatically. "Yes! It is and it's..." What /was/ it like!? He died before Acupuncture was invented! "An experience! Yes, an experience. It certainly helps ease those muscles." Cuz that's what acupuncture was about right? When Beckett looked back to the bag he gestured with his hands. "Oh don't mind those." He walked over and unceremoniously KICKED them under a tabletop. "Just a bit of cleaning! If you would like to make an appointment I am more than happy to make one for you?? Yes?"

Beckett Jacobs watches as Floyd kicks the bag away, leaving him to only stare at where it had been a moment later. "Uh-- Certainly. Sign me up. How's Thursday?" His eyes flit around the shop from object to object, eventually coming back into the bag on the ground. It was more than just passing curiosity in his gaze now.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->

Beckett Jacobs rolls Perception + Enigmas vs 6 for 0 successes.

1 3 5 5 7

<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Beckett Jacobs doesn't get the feels, apparently.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->

Beckett Jacobs rolls Perception + Enigmas vs 7 for 0 successes.

1 2 2 5 10

<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

<OOC> Beckett Jacobs says, "it's the gift Sense Magic"

Floyd nods voraciously. "Of course! Thursday. Thursday is the best day for an acupuncture. I will certainly let our skilled acupuncturist," That's the term right? "Know to expect you. How about Noon? I think high noon is the best time for all good things yes?" He returns near Beckett but outside of arms reach now that the bag, and mask, are safely dispensed.

Beckett Jacobs bobs his chin. "Yes. Thursday is a good day. Noon is fine. Could I get some White Sage, too? The sign outside said you locally sourced and not taken from public lands? I appreciate that." He moves away from the bag and towards the counter, indicating the bundled herbs on display in the cases nestled with 'wands' and other naval gazing accessories.

Shit. He wants to buy stuff?! "O-of course! He said and laughed. "Ahhhh, of course you can." This isn't going to end well. He moved around behind the counter, cuz that is what shopkeepers do, and stared incredulously at the the register which, if one were to read his face, looked like it was a billion miles away.

Beckett Jacobs says, "Are you sure you're doing alright?" After a few moments he certainly takes notice, staring right into Floyd's pale face. He reaches tentatively reaches across the glass top counter towards the 'shopkeeper's' upper arm to try and give the most cursory tap. "Maybe you've had a little too much acupuncture?"

....Well. The jig is up. "Oh no I'm-!" He tries to assure Beckett but did not manage to make out in time. Floyd shudders and then briefly turns translucent, giving a "ugh! that feels so weird..." while Beckett's finger doesn't actually touch his shoulder. It doesn't touch anything. It's just a finger in the air, even though Floyd reacted. After a moment Floyd looked himself over and then back to Becket giving a sheepish. "Ugh...surprise?"

Floyd loses one Corpus

Beckett Jacobs feels the hairs stand on his back when there wasn't anything there to touch. He retracts that hand as swiftly as he would touching hot iron. "You're..." His brow creases as he watches Floyd reconstitute himself after a moment of transparency. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Floyd shakes his head vehemently. "No! No. Not a pain thing. Just....god that feels soooo weird!" The solidification is not immediate, and he untransparents himself only with each passing second. "But no. It doesn't hurt. It's like if a bug got stuck in your ear and you feel it wiggling around? That weird." He doesn't look hurt, just oddled. Though his shoulders do sag with the release of the facade. "Yeah. I'm dead. Sorry! Kind of a nknee-jerk reaction to not hold out the sign saying 'surprise! I'm dead'. Sorry for misleading you." Now that he doesn't have to pretend to be shopkeeper, he just hops over the counter.

Beckett Jacobs has to force himself to blink. He was certainly staring at Floyd again. "I'm uh-- Not offended." Beckett seemed more calm then he should have been meeting an actual ghost. "To be honest you pass pretty well-- For someone who's alive I mean. What were you, uh, doing crawling around on the floor like that earlier?"

If Floyd seem oddled that Beckett did not look crazed or demented, he didn't seem to care. Floyd himself was still dealing with the surreal truth that he was talking to someone who valued things like oxygen. "Oh. Well thank you! An odd compliment, but a compliment I will take." He went back over to his backpack and pulled it out, as well as the mask. "This? I was gathering some stuff. I don't know how much you see but...it's not very friendly on this side of the world. Spectres everywhere. So if I need to go out, I have a disguise." He flops the mask for emphasis. "It's not the best, but it can help if they're just passing glances. Blend in, move around them, get out sort of thing. I'm only here cuz it's one of the few places that is readily defensible, and not swarming with them. Hence I was here. The stuff? It's just junk. Old ship parts from the port. Need something to make a defensive station, hence the outings." He looks back to Beckett as if realizing something. "Why -can- you see me anyway?"

Beckett Jacobs nods along to what Floyd has to say. He had no real basis to disagree. Yes. Specters. Yes. Very dangerous. Until the time comes when Floyd questions the inevitable and he stops nodding and glances sideways. Both his gloved hands retreats to his pockets. "Uh..." he chews his lip. "Well. I never really figured that out myself. The when or the how, I mean? I've seen, uh, others like you before. Well, by others I mean -one- other. He looked a bit more obvious than you do? He and I used to talk. Good conversations. I haven't seen him in awhile, though." That probably didn't explain the calm at all, though.

Floyd seems to be skeptical of Beckett's explanation but...well, he's never met a person who could talk to ghosts before. So he accepts it as is. "Huh. Well...where I'm from that sort of thing is frowned upon. Charon's law and all...but here." He looks outside to the wide world of Spectreland, then back to Beckett. "I couldn't care less, if it means having someone I can at least be somewhat normal with." He hoists himself onto said table to sit. "Where you from anyway? You look Native." In Floyd's time, Natives were nowhere near cities.

Beckett Jacobs seems exceptionally full of vigor, even for one of The Quick. He would appear to have all the signs that suggest an accelerated metabolism, but without the accelerated aging that normally comes along with that. He's hiding some really terrible lookings scars under his gloves, but they don't seem to give him any trouble in trerms of gesture or range of movement. He isn't a vampire. "Me? I'm doubt you've heard of it but I'm from First Mesa. I finished my degree at Denver and... let's say I haven't found a place to be."

Floyd, obviously, has no clue what First Mesa is. "I'm from downstairs." Whatever downstairs means. "First I've been back up here since....phew. A long ass time it feels like." He looks at his backpack. "I forgot how...lonesome these places are." He gestures around to the general area. He gazes at Beckett a moment longer, sensing that vigor and vitality that is uncommon in one of the quick but...if it means anything, Floyd doesn't know what it means. "Where you hang out now? You stick in town or you hang on the outskirts?"

Beckett Jacobs says, "I'm just trying to get my bearings, really. I suppose eventually the city will get to noisy for me. I moved here a couple weeks ago and I'm staying out at Pala, for now. Er-- Don't worry. No one else seems to know where that is." He walks away from the counter. Sage could wait for now. Ghosts were more interesting than Sage. "So you don't come up to this side often? Are there not many of you around? Ghosts, I mean.""

Floyd hmms. "Pala? That's a bit out. Haven't been that far." He said, folding his hands on his lap. Seems like a habit. "Oh up here? Yeah...not often." He leaves it at that. "And no. Not really. I haven't met another once since I've been here, apart from the endless swath of spectres that loom in every alley in the city." He shrugs. "But so far? I'm still here, and that's sorta what matters right?"

Beckett Jacobs tries to be encouraging. Maybe it was habit from talking with one of the other Dead for so long. "Yeah-- Yeah it does. You're still here." He retracts his hands from the pockets. "Are there alot of specters outside the city as well? I uh-- saw an interesting place while out walking. Some of the locals said it was haunted but I didn't see anyone there. Like you, I mean. I don't know if I'm seen any of the specters either." He pauses to wonder if he could only see the types of ghosts that were conversational or maybe he'd just not been paying enough attention. Beckett Jacobs had clearly been lucky or just not paying attention not to see the Bad Ghosts.

Floyd arches a brow. "Haunted house huh?" He says brushing his chin. "You should show me sometime. I'd love to see it firsthand. Always love to go on an adventure." He shrugs when it sounds like Beckett hasn't seen anyone else of significance either. "It's alright. I'm a one man band! Here to take a fight to the spectres on their own turf. Tis why I'm here afterall." He slings the backpack full of junk over his shoulder. The mask gets tucked into a side pocket. "But if I'm out and about in Pala I'll be sure to pay you a visit."

Beckett Jacobs says, ""More like... haunted ancient ruin?" He says rubbing the back of his head. "Fight?" He looked Floyd over again, a skeptical twitch in his brow. "The guy I used to talk to looked like... well... a story-book knight. He had a sword as tall as himself. I'm not always out at Pala by the way. I'm Beckett, by the way. Do you have a name you're fine with telling me?" He adds. "Are there more specters in cities than there are out in the desert and forest?" He seemed especially curious about that."

Haunted ancient ruin? Ooooo. Now that's to Floyd's liking. "That just makes me even want to go MORE." Cuz who knows what goodies there are. When Beckett gave him a skeptical look he looked himself over. "Hey! I know how to fight thank you!" From his backpack he pulled out a hammer. It wasn't large like a sledge, easily able to be held in one hand, but the metal was wicked black and gave a deadly sheen when exposed to the light of the underworld. A block of metal couldn't scream 'danger' better if it had a mouth. "May not be a knight in shining armor but...you gotta do what you gotta do." Said hammer was put into a small ring on his belt. As if that is where it is supposed to go. "The forest and desert? Well for you...it's a desert. Don't go without water. Down here it's a madhouse. The Tempest is heavy out there. Not a good thing. As for the forests? Haven't scoped them out yet. I plan to though, here pretty soon. Then up north. Still getting my bearings myself."

Beckett Jacobs chuckles. "More like a knight in sour armor." He takes one look at the hammer and his skepticism depletes. "Okay. I take your word for it, no need to test it out for me." I looked like something he didn't want to get hit with. "Yeah. There's a ruin down south towards Mexico out in the desert. Hard to find. I was born in a desert, so it doesn't bother me. It's colder out there, though." Not that Becket's outfit screamed desert adventurer. "Did you have a name?

"Oh! Name. Apologies." He shook his head. "Floyd. Floyd Mayhew. Nice ta meet you Mr. Beckett." He said. The formalcy also, seemed like habit. "I don't mind going out in the desert. I would just need a guide, and if a Quick can guide me then I should be good. If it's out in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the Tempest, I'd want to know what's going on there myself. Never know." There could be loot. or Spectres, or loot AND spectres. Or a future base. Either.

Beckett Jacobs hides a small wince with a reflexive smile. "Er-- It's Beckett Jacobs. Yes. Two last names. I know." Casually he stretches one out, then the other. His body didn't seem used to standing still for so long. "I'm curious to know what it looks like from your side of the... you know. Different perspectives can be refreshing." He looks over his shoulder at the shop. Compared to a real ghost he seemed utterly bored with the rest of the offering here. Who wouldn't? "It seems like the owners of this place are as bored of this place as everyone else is. Fakes for tourists, mostly."

Floyd blinked. Oh. Right. People don't say Mr. first name anymore. They say Mr. Last name. "Er. Right. Mr. Jacobs then." Easy enough. "You mean...here?" He pointed down, suggesting the shop. "I mean..compared to most places it's relatively normal. Hence why it drew my attention. Your average shoppe, household or storefront looks, generally, like someone hurled a tornado through it or burned it down or some other disaster. Here though? It's just a storefront." He gestured to the trinkets and baubles of the shoppes wares. "Those though? You wouldn't want to know how I see them. They look they would make you sick, let alone if you burn them."

Beckett Jacobs 's brows lift nearly above the rims of his glasses. "That old knight described the experience of a Cleanse to be... pleasant." He looked genuinely quite troubled for a moment, maybe even a little betrayed. His chin tilts down and he strokes it. "What do you see, then?" If he was talking to a dead man and that didn't turn his stomach maybe nothing would. Maybe Beckett actually wasn't terribly sane or stable at all, but was good at faking it. Like most people.

Floyd sighed. "oookay. If you say so." He walked over toward the counter and looked down at the sheared, discolored, shriveled herbs. He points to the sage. "The sage? It looks dessicated. Not like...sage sage, if I remember what sage looks like...but dead. Blackened, dark browns, not stiff but sort of floppy." He looks to another, a bottle with some herbs in it and points to it. "I don't know what that is. It's filled with mold." He then continues to point out herbs and other items, explaining how they all have out-lived their usefulness, looks like civilizations live in them now, and also how the shelves look to be foodsnackies for termites and the staircase going upstairs looks like a death-trap.

Beckett Jacobs follows along, listening to the explanations. His eyes were moving, making mental notes. Things looked dead to dead eyes. "That's curious. Really curious." He retains a posture of conversational interest but behind his glasses there was the innate sparkle of someone who's gears were turning and picking out how the universe works. "Do you-- Mind if I try something? I don't really know if you have places to be? I don't know if I'll ever be able to really know how time works for you Ghosts."

Floyd arches a brow. "I dunno, lemme check." He peeks out a window. He looks this way, and then that way. "Nah I'm good. Why? What are you going to try?"

Beckett Jacobs pulls his bag around to the front of his person but seems to think better of whatever he was going to pull out from inside. "Hmm... maybe not here... actually. We can try when we go out to the ruins." He pauses again. "Actually how are we going to meet up later for that? It's a big city. The Knight guy was able to find me just about anywhere, but he implied it was sort of a special circumstance."

Floyd purses his lips. "Well. We can set a date and time. We could meet outside here sometime, and then travel to the ruins?" He shrugs. Apparently time is not an issue if he can plan dates. He eyes the bag though as he pulls it around his neck and then puts it away again. "When would be a good time for you to go urban adventuring? I'll be here."

Beckett Jacobs taps his lower lip before smirking. "How's Thursday?"

Floyd doesn't seem to get it...and then gets it. He laughs. "Yeah. I didn't know how I was ever going to make that reservation." He said with a smirk. "Sure. Thursday's good. Noon?"

Beckett Jacobs says, "Noon is fine. I'll have to reschedule for the acupuncture." He might have been joking but he might not have been. After all Beckett could see and had no problems with having lengthy conversations with the dead(possibly more than with the living). Having needles stuck into your body didn't seem too weird compared to that. "I do need to get going though. You uh--- Be safe and don't give up, okay?"

Floyd laughs. "I'm too stubborn to give up." He pulls out his mask and slides it on. It is a weird mask. After he puts it on it is hard to tell that it's a mask and not actually his face. "See you thursday. After you." He gestures to the door, eager not to have to go through something again.

Beckett Jacobs reaches to the door and opens it with the ease that came with mortality. The outside air was still pleasantly warm on his side of reality. He holds the door out of either politeness or experience. "If I don't see you for awhile I'll check around that big graveyard... unless it's not safe for you."

<OOC> Beckett Jacobs says, "really enjoyed the scene but I'm getting sleepy"

<OOC> Floyd says, "Alrighty. Thanks a ton for the RP! It was super fun, and we shall go spelunking soon!"