Repose

[Felicity H]
Alright, who do I need to kill?


[Perry P]
I've been thinking. Our hangout should happen sooner instead of later, right?


[And on a lark, Gwen R]
Look. I heard you're here. I just want to know how. Actually, first just tell me if you're really here. Then I've got questions.

If you are the woman who was trapped in the closet in the bathroom, I would like to speak with you.

[By the light of Tuesday's full moon, she does a walk-around of town as the sun sets (mostly unnoticed - those who see her soon forget her), basket handle tucked in the crook of her elbow. It's not her largest basket, but neither is it her smallest.

Her first stop is the cemetery, where she places:
-Snowdrops tied together with a sprig of rosemary at the entrance gate
-A bundle of asphodelus laid between the graves of a once-married couple (one fresh, one older)
-Another couple, on their shared headstone by their two fairly recent graves, a curl of ivy

Tucked in the handle of the door to the trailer behind the Protestant church, a bundle of thornapple flowers. By morning, they are wilted, with the edges starting to blacken badly and rot. The flower shop has no such gift, but there's a lingering scent of them around the door that lasts all day. There's no remaining trace of who may have left them, not even for people good at figuring out that sort of thing, like they appeared out of nowhere. The flowers and the scents keep their own secrets - for now.

The shelves of her things at the town's metaphysical shop are restocked: teas, lotions, sachets. She comes and goes from the back door (outside of business hours), which opens for her without need of a key. Set to the side in the back room, she leaves a different selection of herbs, teas, and one spidery puff of witch-hazel laid on top. She takes in return the small jar of honey waiting there for her. No note is needed.

An unbleached muslin bag is left hooked on the handle of Eddie's caravan office at the circus. For all their usual mischief, the clowns don't even think about touching it. Inside:
-an unwilting (for now) bouquet with a note: Odin's grace. Happy Wednesday.
-a dark, airtight jar of loose-leaf tea. It smells like spearmint and anise and green things. Another note: For hot afternoons: 3 spoons into a large jar, fill with clean water, let on your window ledge the morning before - full-day+ brew. Strain and pour over ice. Best plain but 1 spoon of raw sugar/jar in with the tea before brewing if you're appeasing an extra-sweet tooth. No more or you'll ruin it.

Once her basket is empty (other than the honey), she stops at the grocery store to pick up a few necessities before walking home again.]

[Go here for plant meanings.]

Who: Claire and Rory
What: A trail of blood was left to follow.
Where: Woods to the Motel
When: After Meredith fuzzy
Warnings/Rating: Rory is so naked, guys.

( It was the middle of the day, and he was never the dog during the day. )

[Ring.]

Who: Cat & Isaiah
What: Dinner
Where: The Diner
When: Thursday
Warnings/Rating: TBD

Cat wasn't exactly in the mood to go out, and that was precisely why she was going. Oh, she liked Isaiah quite a bit, and it wasn't that she had any complaints about the company. No, you see, Cat had been licking her wounds. She'd spent the hours since the party holed up in the little house behind the bar. She didn't even make the drive to the city, where hedonism lived in excess, and where she could drape herself in feel-better diamonds. No, she slept, and she berated herself, and she let her self-esteem tank.

And then, eventually, she picked herself up.

Skin-tight jeans, a black tunic, stilettos, and her hair was pulled back and curling along her shoulders. True to her word, she walked to the diner. No point in pulling out the bike or the hemi, and the weather was mild. It was in the 70s at night, and Cat didn't even feel the exertion. She'd been climbing buildings in heels by the time she hit puberty, and this flat stretch of sidewalk was nothing special.

The diner wasn't anything special, either. But this wasn't that kind of night. Hedonism? Didn't come with a blue-plate special. This was about facing the world, walls back in place and nothing to see here. The woman that pushed open the door of the diner, she was confidence with red lips and a feline sway. Hello, world. She had this covered.

[Public]

I'm in desperate need of a few performers. Clowns, acrobats and dancers. Summertime weather has sent some of my wonderful carnies on various vacations. My numbers are thinning. Oh, and if you can work a needle! I've already lost a lot of blood trying to fix a few outfits myself. Woe, the pain, etc.

[Right after this.]

[Call: Sam A]
[Ring!]