ash ellington, actress. (highfive) wrote in fableless, @ 2017-04-02 14:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log/thread, ash ellington, iain mcintyre |
WHO: Iain McIntyre & Ash Ellington feat. brief phone appearance by Ash's Crazed co-star, Noah Potter.
WHEN: BACKDATED to a Thursday in early March.
WHERE: How does your Garden Grow?.
WHAT: Tale Husband & Wife meet for the first time in their present lives. This time, it's Ash trying to feed Iain vegetables.
CHALLENGE: April/Talk to a Talemate.
As a town, Woodsbridge’s got roses that are also maps, street names that are also Nursery Rhymes and a temperate climate that is also tropical. It’s weird in a way that doesn’t bother Ash. She’s had enough childhood visits to this place to to figure out it’s weird, but in a inoffensive way. But limited organic produce options and no delivery option at all, anywhere in town? Dude, this is California. She says that last thought out loud, and gets treated to a snicker-snort of laughter in both earbuds. Ash doesn’t catch more than the murmer of "geddonveg", because Potter’s doing that thing he does when he thinks he's being especially hysterical, where he kind of mouths some of what he’s saying. Telling him that this makes him seem like Donald Trump doing his silent ‘you’re FIRED’ for the press has yet to have an effect. There are many reasons Mason Potter is both one of her best friends and the worst person in the world to have a phone conversation with. “Dude.” Ash says again, and ignores the dark-haired woman staring at her to look over the Candyland stall for even the tiniest hint of a ‘Candyman’ reference. No dice. “Don’t hate me because I’m going to live longer than you are.” “But more likely t'get kidnapped because of your age, gender an' general everything." Potts's voice is casual, cheerful, broken up by a yawn. He's filming a night shoot in Istanbul. 'General everything' is their code for 'weird supernatural abilities'. "Snobby veg won't save you from getting the hose again." Ash grins, and remembers a time when Potts didn't know the difference between 'Silence of the Lambs' and 'American Psycho', that bittersweet period when they were kicking the shit out of each other on Crazed. There's this stall called Lee's Stuff that looks promising. She moves up close to it, eyes drawn to herbs first. There's something muffled in her ears, something muttered, and an echo of a shriek that could be a person, an animal or a piece of equipment. "Justin says t’tell ya about the empty orange juice carton something something gamechanger she'll know something else...." He yawns again, and his accent dips from the English he’s been practing to his natural Canadian, "This isn't helping me stay awake, Ell... Justin is very concerned about aliens... What podcast?” His voice has gone distant in that way that means he’s probably talking to the light tech they’re both friends with, not her, and she’s not altogether surprised when the call clicks out with a, “Yeah… yeah? Later.” It’s cool. She’s about ready to buy some veg anyway. It’s somewhere between forcing the bundle of carrots into her ‘Groceries & Shit’ tote bag so they don’t crush the rampion, and nibbling her way through a Chinese-style rib from the Wild Boar’s Deli that she realises there’s that tingling sensation on her spine again. Ash looks up, around, twists in the little patio-style chair she’s sitting in, looking for….? Kae her mind supplies in a whisper that sounds kind of like the original Scream Queen herself. But there’s no Kae. Really, the only person that sticks out to her is this one dude. All kinds of tall, with this curly, dark red hair and facial scruff that makes her think he should being wearing kilts while riding horses in Scotland somewhere. How could she not notice the guy? On impulse, Ash gives him a little wave It’s a normal day at work - for a small town, How Does Your Garden Grow? does well for itself, so there’s always people for Iain to be talking to, potential vendors for him to be meeting with, and things to be cleaning up - and it’s a welcome distraction from the conversation he’d had with Liam about a week and a half ago, one that Iain just can’t seem to let go of. He’s determined to figure out the answer to the question: what did he want to do? But maybe it’s one of those things that if you think about it too much, you don’t actually end up solving your problem. So Iain goes back to windexing the plexiglass of one of the community bulletin boards near the cafe patio when he feels a familiar twinge on the back of his neck. Pippa? He frowns thoughtfully, and glances around, expecting his Tale daughter to appear out of nowhere, but he doesn’t see the tiny blonde. Nor does he see any signs of Kae’s curly brown head wandering about the marketplace. If neither of them are here, does that mean...that their fourth Talemate is here? Right here? And then, out of the corner of his eye, Iain sees someone waving at him. She looks familiar. How does he know her? Besides the Tale thing, anyway? Still, he doesn’t want to be rude, so he offers a smile and waves back, before going back to his task. But the curiosity is too much, before Iain feels himself turning around to sneak another glance. She has to be their Talemate. The one Kae mentioned. But how does he avoid anything as awkward as meeting Pippa and Kae for the first time? And then Iain rolls his eyes at himself. You served in the Middle East for four years. You can talk to a girl. So he sets his rag in his back pocket, and loosely dangles the cleaner from his fingers. “Hi,” he says hesitantly, and smiles again, trying to assure her that he’s not a murderer or anything creepy like that. It would’ve been more surprising to Ash if he didn’t come over, really; she initiated contact, and she knows she’s pretty. She feels okay about it. Maybe even a little good, when she sees the way he holds himself; like he’s aware he’s big and unknown, and she’s little, and he’s trying to respect that. It’s a way of moving that she recognises. From a lot of big, good guys, actually, but most of all she thinks of Mase. The first time they’d met she’d been 13 and him 19, over a foot taller than her. It’s a good enough association that it kind of balances out the eerie prickling up her back. “Hey.” She says back, a little softer than meant too; she’s distracted trying to figure out if that’s the hint of an accent she picked up on, or if her mind is playing the same old trick on her. She clears her throat, pitches her voice more normal. “I’m Ash.” And she doesn’t offer her hand (he’s got stuff in his, there’s half a raw carrot in hers, she might actually shudder any second with the prickling feeling), but she smiles at him, warm-eyed and relaxed. “You like carrots?” “Iain,” he replies, not sure what to do with his hands since Ash doesn’t offer hers, or if he should sit, or if that’d be too forward…? This is hard. Why is this so hard? But her expression is soft, inviting, and he seems to be doing okay so far. She’s not running away screaming, at least. And then Iain chuckles as he’s drawn out of his anxiety-ridden thoughts. “Aye, I like ‘em fine.” Nodding to the chair, he asks next, “Mind if I sit?” Definitely (probably) not imagining that accent. "Yeah, man, of course." Ash goes to take her bag off of the seat next to her - and then realises that there's another empty one already, and that one's closer to him. No need to put her groceries on the ground. She puts her half-eaten carrot back into her bag (would it be weird to offer him a fresh one?) and flexes her fingers so she doesn't accidentally wave at him again. "I thought you looked Scottish," She tells him, for no real reason that she can identify but hey, she opened with carrots. Accusations of her being normal have always been far and few between. "Ceann-ruadh gu brath." Ash says, the words slipping off her tongue with relative ease. "Redheads forever." She slides her fingers through her hair, and grins at him. "That's the only Gaelic I know." He takes his seat, still smiling in amusement at Ash’s opening line. Not that it’s a line, or that she’s hitting on him - though enough people do that when he’s at work, to be fair - but regardless, Iain’s pretty sure no one’s ever started a conversation with him asking if he likes carrots. “Was it the hair?” Iain asks good-naturedly, setting the bottle of cleaner on the table next to him, and reaches up with his other hand to tug at his locks. It feels good to sit after being on his feet so long. “Yer pronunciation isnae bad,” he compliments. Gaelic could be a hard language for some, with its sounds being so far from English a lot of the time, and how words are spelled much differently than they sound. Ash realises that grinning isn’t an actual reply and has to take a moment to make sure that her accent comes out normal, not Scottish, “The hair, yeah, mostly. Redheaded men don’t really wear their hair long and curly like that if they’re American.” She goes over that in her head, tries to figure out if that’s offensive. Probably not? She clarifies anyway. “My brothers’ and my dad don’t, anyway.” She needes something to do with her hands (why’d she go and put the carrot away?), so she laces her fingers together and sets them on the table. That helps. The compliment makes her smile at him aknew, genuinely pleased. “Yeah? Thanks.” Don’t mention her Dialect Coach. “I was over there this past winter… In Edinburgh, though, where’re you from?” “I’ve ha’ my hair shor’, an’ I didnae like it a’ all, but,” Iain shrugs, since the air force hadn’t given him much of a choice at the time. “It’s long an’ curly again, so I’m happy.” He listens interestedly as Ash mentions Edinburgh. “Oh, aye. We’re from the Highlands - a bit north o’ Inverness. A town called Cromarty. Wha’ were ye doin’ all the way over there, then? It’s no’ a short fligh’.” Ash makes an effort to blink, to shift her shoulders, to not just stare at him with naked curiousity, as is her default when she’s genuinely interested in someone, or something. Ike’s told her before it’s kind of creepy, and Pete said that if she wasn’t a small, pretty woman, it’d be definitely regarded as creepy. So, she tries. Resisting the impulse to look under the table to see if his shoes are military straight-laced comes under that. “I wanted to go up that way, but didn’t have time. It seems beautiful. Really real.” She’s a little wistful thinking about that, wondering if she’ll have time to go back there for a vacation sometime. Having vacation… now there’s a weird thought. She centers her attention back on Iain, and wonders if this is the time she’ll find a non-douchey way to say it, “I was there for work.” That’s not too bad. Probably. “I’m an actress…. And also at college now.” Still not used to that part. “What’d you do here?” So that’s part of the reason Iain knows she seems familiar. Had he not already met Pippa and Kae, he might’ve brushed off the feeling that that was the only reason why, but he knows better. He might not know how to address it, but between his gut reaction and Kae’s heads up, Ash has to be part of their Tale group. “Sounds busy,” he says, not sure how to comment on the fact that he’s seen Ash in movies, either, and figures she could elaborate if wants to. Don’t want to come off as a crazed fan or anything. “I run the place.” Iain replies, and then clarifies, “General manager. I dinnae actually own it.” Ash smiles and decides she likes him for saying ‘busy’, of all adjectives. “Yeah, it is.” She thinks about trotting out the line about being at work since she was 7, or even clarifying she’s on hiatus, but he’s not asking and she’s more interested in him. General manager of a Farmer’s Market. She turns that career over in her mind, wondering what it must be like, what it says about him, if the equivalent would be closer to Producer or Director. “This probably counts as your break then…Do you want an apple?” She looks over at him, and then down at her bag, trying to remember if she has anything with more protein in it. “I mean… in screen terms that’s like a Director, and they’re always run off their feet, and you must need a lot of calories…” Ash trails off, and is pretty sure Potts is going to laugh at her for this later. She gives Iain a sheepish grin; her go-to when more words would just make her look weirder. “Ye dinnae have te feed me,” Iain raises an amused brow, and feels his lips quirk as he tries to hold back a smile. “I’m fine, really, but thank ye,” he holds up a hand, hardly wanting to take Ash’s food from her, or make her feel like he’s only sitting there in hopes of getting a snack out of the conversation. “It’s no’ verra busy righ’ nae, anyway.” A glance around the place confirms this assessment. It’s dinner time; the after-work crowd has already made their way through, and the evening crowd still has an hour or so until they start trickling in, so Iain is relatively free to mingle with customers for the time being. Ash scratches at her neck, which, when paired with her grin, seems somehow rueful, “Yeah…. That makes sense.” I’m not so good with normal people She thinks, but doesn’t say. Same with ’Rapunzel’, which isn’t really anything she can say, just a consistent word that seems to be getting louder and louder in her head. “So.. you didn’t grow up around here.” She says it as a statement, with a lilt of a question at the end, doesn’t pause because pausing means thinking about what she’s saying. “So this is all… this Tale stuff…. It’s weird to you? Too?” He nods in confirmation, even more fervently as Ash’s next question tumbles out after her first. Despite being here since August, and having made a tentative home for himself, Iain still doesn’t understand all of the town’s idiosyncrasies, or expectations and courtesies when it comes to Tale things. Liam and Bellamy say that recent months aren’t indicative of what Woodsbridge is really like, but so far, Iain hasn’t seen anything else - short periods of typical, small town life, as much as a town full of reincarnated people with superpowers can be, followed by townwide chaos. He’s not a very big fan of the cycle. “Still weird, aye. Both my siblings are Tales, too, but it’s one thing bein’ around just them, and bein’ here where it’s the norm, ye ken?” The relief is a physical thing in Ash’s stomach, cold and powerful, like seawater. He doesn’t get it, either, this Tale thing (does he know about the twang shivering its way up her spine?). “Yeah.” She says, stressing the word a little more than is strictly needed. “I’ve got family who’re Tales too, but…” She shrugs. ‘But’ seems to cover it. A door creaks open, a Potion bubbles, and a hardwood floor gets brushed over with coins before a man starts to sing, low and swooping, ”I was working late in the lab one night…” That’s how far Boris Pickett gets before Ash thinks to get her phone out of her bag and switch off the alarm, the one song she never gets sick off. “I’ve got to go to class.” She’s rueful all over again, brushing her hair away from her face and trying to remember how normal people stay in contact with each other, “How many i’s in Iain?” “Two,” Iain holds up two fingers helpfully. “Before an’ after the ‘a’.” He rises from his chair about the same time as Ash does, and smiles, though part of him does wish the alarm hadn’t just gone off. “It was good meetin’ ye, Ash. Don’ be a stranger.” |