Neil (piezoelectric) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2017-11-17 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | #september 2017, neil, neil x rostislav, rostislav |
Who: Neil & Rost
What: Business and inquiry
Where: The Cemetery
When: Evening, Saturday 9/16
Status: Complete
Tonight had been horrifying. Neil had just gotten out of the shower when he noticed a flicker in the mirror. Wiping the steam off he saw only his own reflection but it was acting strange. He couldn't wrap his head around it except to say his mind was playing tricks on him and maybe it was a lizard-brain sort of reaction, a warning from his subconscious. That didn't mean it hadn't looked and felt very real while it was happening. His own reflection unbound by his actual actions, looking to be banging on the glass and yelling even as sound didn't come through. Neil had ended up with his back pressed against the cool wall behind him, staring in horror as this 'thing' that looked like him seemed to frantically scream for help and then seemingly warn him. They're coming. Neil didn't have to think about that for long. He knew exactly who they were.
And so when his reflection appeared to be dragged away, kicking and screaming, Neil slipped out of the bathroom, dressed hurriedly and left the house. He drove around aimlessly for the next thirty minutes, constantly checking his rearview mirror to see if anyone was following him. He kept his doors locked but he knew that probably was a false sense of security right there and his heart did not seem to want to give up its fast pounding.
He had every right to be paranoid. There had been a stranger in the library making thinly veiled threats toward him and he hadn't seen Nicole Thornton or Naomi O'Connor in the longest time which was weird because Naomi especially always seemed to be around being an annoying, paranoid wreck. And now Neil was seeing things! So yes, he was rattled and anxious as he got out of his car and headed up to the cemetery gates, pulling his hood up to protect against the light rain.
Neil hated the cemetery with a passion. For a place full of dead people it really didn't feel like it was all that dead. The crime scene tapes did not help him feel more at ease, that was for sure. He had occasionally come here to purchase weed from the groundskeeper, just sometimes, just when things got so bad he couldn't sleep, but he never came here after dark if he could help it. The place was creepy enough in the light of day, but he was already a nervous wreck so it didn't much matter now. He didn't feel safe anywhere anyway.
He was sure he'd never walked this fast in his life and yet he never walked slowly. Tonight he set some sort of a record in speed walking without actually breaking into a run, his hands in fists as he stalked through the garden toward the back where Rostislav had his trailer.
Rost hadn’t had much of a good day either. He’d barely slept, in spite of his best intentions, the vodka simply not doing enough to knock him out. Every small sound from outside -- and there were a lot of them, always -- had his heart jumping and his ears almost painfully alert. He had the worst uncanny feeling that something was going to knock on the trailer. Or knock it over. Finally, once dawn broke, Rost fell into a restless sleep.
The police came back during the afternoon to do their investigation or whatever it was of the robbed grave. Rost watched from a distance, that uneasy feeling still lingering around him like a bad smell. The cemetery felt ... uncomfortable. Violated. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the police presence or the desecration itself. Maybe both. Things were definitely going wrong though, that was impossible to miss. Rost went about his day and did some work, but his heart really wasn’t in it, and he felt more watched than usual.
By the time it was dark again, he was sticking close to his home. Instead of doing walking patrols, he had decided to drive every time, and point the big flashlight at everything. It was faster and unfortunately, now it felt safer. Besides, it was raining that night. He’d just come back from one of those rounds and gone back into the trailer when some intuition told him to look outside again. He did, and saw a dark hooded figure approaching. Icy fear trickled down his spine.
Without giving it a second thought, Rost grabbed the shotgun he kept by the door and hurried down the steps. He hefted it and pointed it toward whoever or whatever was coming. “You are commanded to stop,” he barked, glad that his voice didn’t shake.
Neil let out an involuntary and stupid squeaky sound somewhere from his throat as he raised his arms, pulling his hood off and backing up. "It's me," he said though his voice cracked from the sheer panic. Guns did bad things and Neil did not want to get shot! "Neil Wainscott! Librarian. Please, please don't shoot!" How anyone could play it cool at this side of the barrel he couldn't fathom. His body wanted to contort itself into a tiny target and roll the fuck away and he could feel that urge in every nerve and muscle, yet all his body would agree to do was to stand very still aside from the shaking.
Rost squinted as the hood came down, and he recognized Neil before he was done babbling. Oh. Oops. He lowered the gun almost immediately, and gave Neil a sheepish sort of look. “Apologies, my friend,” he said. “I did not see you at first. Come in, come in, it is raining.” He turned to thump back up the steps to his trailer door, motioning for Neil to follow him. He didn’t think the man had ever come out to buy from him before at night, and considering everything that had been going on, well ... could he be blamed for being a little jumpy? Maybe whatever had taken that finger and Mrs. Mercer would want a live victim next, and he was so conveniently available. Rost thought that he probably shouldn’t almost shoot his customers, though. That sort of thing was bad for business.
Neil slowly lowered his hands as if it pained him to do so and it almost did. The scare had him tense and skittish and moving for anything but running away felt hard. He clutched his chest and took as deep a breath as he could, huffing it out loudly. It took him a few seconds to get going after Rost and his hair was damp when he entered the trailer. "I should have called first," he said briskly, though he wasn't necessarily mad at Rost. He had a gun too, just a small pistol, even if it frightened him to have it at the house. Times were scary and a hooded figure appearing out of the dark was too - even if it was just Neil who was in no way physically imposing. "Were you expecting someone?" Clearly he hadn't been expecting good company but he wasn't used to Rost being this jumpy. Maybe it was an after-dark thing.
Rost propped the shotgun up by the door again and left it open for Neil to come in after him. He went to the tiny kitchen counter and got a glass down to splash some vodka into it. He knew he probably shouldn’t drink again tonight, but how else was he going to sleep? A bottle and a bong were his only remedies sometimes. “No one good,” he replied, echoing Neil’s thought. Rost turned to face him, eyes ticking over how tired-but-high-strung he looked. Neil almost always looked that way, but it seemed more pronounced tonight. “Bad things have been happening here lately. I would not linger. What can I do for you?”
Bad things seemed to be happening everywhere and Neil nodded sharply at Rost's assessment, wishing he was wrong. He didn't feel any less safe in the cemetery than he did anywhere else, if someone was after him they'd come after him no matter where he was. "The usual," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, frowning softly as he thought about the real reason he was here at such an odd hour. "I- you're friends, so to speak, with Naomi O'Connor, are you not?" He didn't really need to ask but he also didn't want to so blatantly admit how much he really listened to the local gossip.
Rost had nodded at Neil’s request for his ‘usual’ and started to move further into the trailer to where his stash was tucked away, but he stopped short at the mention of Naomi. He snapped his fingers and murmured “O’Connor,” to himself. He had known her last name, he’d just completely blanked on it while talking to Sheriff Barrett. Understandable, after the trauma, he supposed. “Yes,” he answered Neil, his eyes keen on him now. “We are friends. I cannot find her now, do you know where she is?” He had no idea why Neil the librarian would know, out of all people, but Naomi kept strange company, so there was no telling. Rost tried not to sound too eager, but he wasn’t great at that.
Whatever little hope Neil had for Naomi just being her weird flaky self was dashed just like that. He had not just hoped but honestly expected Rost to be dismissive about her disappearance or even know where she went, but no. He looked worried too and Neil's expression did nothing to soothe those nerves. "I don't know where she is," he said and his voice failed him, the words coming out just barely above a whisper. He wasn't afraid for Naomi, he honestly didn't give a shit about her, but if Naomi was missing that meant Nicole might be missing too and that meant... He might be next. It even made sense in an alphabetical order. O'Connor, N ;Thornton, N ; Wainscott, N... In that order. It made him want to pack his things and run far away and maybe, just maybe that was what Naomi and Nicole had done. Doubtful. Very doubtful.
Well, that was fucking disturbing, wasn’t it? Rost had been worried about Naomi already, but much like Neil, he’d been trying to rationalize it -- he just kept missing her, or she was off on a bender, or she’d just abandoned her stuff and left town. But seeing Neil get even paler and look terrified ... shit. That was not a good sign. Rost just stared at him for a long moment, his brows drawing together into a more pained expression. “I reported that she was missing,” he offered quietly, though he didn’t sound too hopeful about that. People disappeared around here all the time. “To the sheriff.” After another beat, his emotions bubbling up in his throat in a bad way, Rost turned away and slowly shuffled further into the trailer. Neil had come for a purpose, after all.
"That was not a bad idea," Neil said though he very much doubted the sheriff and his people would do a damn thing. Naomi was weird so her going missing probably didn't strike anyone as odd and people were saying Nicole had left town, there was no real basis for an investigation - unless he went in and told the sheriff what he knew. The mere thought of it made him feel like someone had stabbed him with a frozen dagger. "When did you last see Naomi?" he asked, trying to make sense of the timeline and wondering if Jane was still around. He had no interest in talking to her and it was probably safest to stay away, but if she was missing too...
The trailer was small enough that Rost had no trouble hearing him even as he ducked around the partition that separated the ‘bedroom’ from the rest of the space. He crouched down to rummage around in a cabinet under the bed. “Last week,” he answered, loud enough to be heard. “I believe ... Wednesday? Tuesday night?” He couldn’t recall exactly, but it had been the night of the first grave desecration, just the graffiti and the hole and the cracked headstone. Rost pulled a box out of the back of the cabinet and opened it up. He pulled a couple of tiny baggies free. Usually the scent of pot was comforting to him, but he didn’t think anything tonight would be comforting. He stood up and walked back to Neil and offered the bags out.
Neil took the bags and handed Rost cash in turn, still fretful and unsure what to make of all this. "Who were you... expecting tonight?" he asked cautiously. He had known Rost for a while now and while they rarely talked, Rost had still made it onto Neil's very short list of people he tolerated. He knew the man had not been one of The Others so their problems might not be related, but the way Rost had said he wasn't expecting anyone good made Neil wonder if maybe, just maybe, they were dealing with similar things.
Rost tucked the money into his pocket, shuffling back to the kitchen counter where he’d left his drink. He gave a faint, bitter chuckle at Neil’s question as he settled into one of the folding chairs at the tiny table. “I do not know,” he answered honestly, leaning back and tilting his head at Neil a bit. “Someone who has violated this sacred ground. They have stolen a finger from one and now an entire body. Who knows what is next.” Rost lifted his glass to Neil and took a swallow, then arched a brow at him. “You would like a drink?” Neil never lingered very long when he came to buy from Rost, but honestly, it seemed like both of them could use the company tonight.
Neil wrinkled his nose at Rost's explanation. Who would do such a thing? It was disgusting and also, well... disgusting. That should be enough to keep people from digging up graves. He shook his head at the offer and gestured vaguely at the door. "I'm driving," he said and honestly he needed his wits about him in case anyone followed him. "Someone took an entire body from a grave," he said as if to make sure he'd heard Rost right. "When did this happen? You hardly ever leave this place."
Rost nodded a bit at Neil declining a beverage, but he still pushed the other folding chair out with his foot in invitation. “Sit if you like,” he murmured, sipping some more vodka. It was still raining, after all. Given his mood, he felt like it might never stop raining. “Last night,” he said, nodding toward the door. “You saw the yellow tape, yes? Mrs. Mercer. Buried only two weeks ago. Now just ... stolen.” It obviously disturbed him greatly, he didn’t try to hide that. He had failed in his duties, and it broke his heart a little.
Neil didn't feel particularly easy about staying but then he didn't feel easy about leaving either so he took the offered seat and frowned softly at Rost. Yes, the man was upset and Neil was no good at dealing with upset people. At least this he understood, it was like someone coming to the library and burning his books, a horrible invasion. "Do you suspect anyone?" he asked, wondering if this might be personal somehow. Who on earth would dig up a body? It wasn't like they needed to steal corpses for medical schools anymore, the time of resurrectionists was long past.
Luckily, Rost didn’t get the crying-hysterical sort of upset in front of people, not anymore. He could be quietly upset. And he was. The grave robbing was bad enough, but the disappearance of Naomi was even worse. He shook his head slowly, gazing at his fingers lightly holding the glass of vodka. “No, I have no ideas,” he answered verbally then, looking up at Neil again. “But I do not believe some normal men are involved. This happened too fast, too efficient. Something else is at play.” He was used to not being believed, and it wouldn't have surprised him if Neil just laughed that suspicion off, but he would still voice it.
Neil thought of children setting things on fire with their minds, of dreams that were more than just dreams, of the other things he had seen and so desperately tried to forget. He nodded so subtly he almost didn't move his head at all because it was scary to admit he believed Rost, that he agreed with him. A normal person didn't just dig up a grave, a normal person was incapable of doing so quickly and quietly without any sort of big distraction in play.
Well, that barely-a-response was interesting, wasn’t it? Rost had talked to Neil long enough to hear how scathing the man could be, and he didn’t think Neil would hold back if he thought Rost was full of shit. But he seemed almost frozen. He seemed knowing. So many people were dismissive of the truth, preferring to stay blanketed in their mundane lives with their mental curtains drawn. Rost sat forward again, his gaze keen on Neil’s face. “You have been touched,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a question. “Your life, by darkness. Yes?”
Neil didn't like admitting to what had happened to him, but there was something in the way Rost asked him and the fact they both seemed traumatized tonight that made it easier. He didn't have to be specific. Being kidnapped, going missing - that was darkness all on its own. "Yes," he said very quietly. "But I don't know what could have done this."
It wasn’t surprising to hear, now that Neil had let him have that little glimpse. No wonder the man was so high strung. Everyone reacted differently to stress, and Rost couldn’t think of anything more stressful than bad run-ins with the supernatural. He pursed his lips a little and nodded; he didn’t need the details. Such things were sometimes impossible to share. “I thought not,” he murmured. Rost picked up his vodka and knocked the rest of it back. “But once it has touched you, it knows what you feel like. Taste like. It returns, always hungry. Protect yourself, all you can.”
"I don't know how," Neil admitted reluctantly. He really did try, he kept quiet and pretended nothing had happened but people kept showing up and pushing him. He was still convinced that man who had showed up asking questions was working for Them and Neil had done a poor job of denying he knew anything. Rost's words only stirred up the fears he already had, even if his fear was not of ghosts or monsters but of actual people who had too much power and no good intentions.
Rost let out a chuckle, though the subject wasn’t very funny. He waved a hand at their surroundings, a space stuffed full with talismans and objects of protection, surrounded by wards he could only trust would hold. “Most of the time, I do not know either. I try to cover all bases,” he admitted. He couldn’t give Neil any advice without knowing what kind of darkness he was up against, but he wasn’t going to push the guy for information. Those things could be intensely private.
Neil looked around skeptically. He didn't believe in magic or superstitious things but sometimes he wished he did, there was sure to be some comfort in those things, no matter how hollow. It was the same with religion, none of it brought him peace of mind. "I think I might be doomed," he said with a faint smile. "All your trinkets couldn't save me."
He didn’t take offense, giving Neil a small smile back. “There is more here than meets the eye,” Rost told him. “Unseen protections.” He could see that Neil didn’t believe in those things, but that was all right. Rost didn’t need other people to believe in them, he just needed to believe in them himself. And he had been safe enough so far, hadn’t he? In one of the more unsafe places in town. “If ever you need help ... however I can, I am here.”
Neil wasn't sure what exactly Rost could do, if anything. It wasn't wise to get him involved in Neil's problems either, unless they were actually related. Neil honestly wouldn't have been surprised to find that they were, he had never understood Their motivations. He didn't even know who They were. Faceless and powerful men in charge of Dr. Wilkes and his experiments, a shadowy organization, the government. Who knew. "Thank you," he said quietly since the offer was kind, even if it was unrealistic. "I hope they find whoever has been causing you problems."
Rost didn’t know what he could do either, but that was kind of the constant state of his life. He just rolled with whatever punches came, and opportunity always seemed to present itself somehow. There might come a day when it didn’t, when he had no solutions and the darkness overwhelmed him, but until then he would do his best to keep surviving. And mourn the others he saw fall off along the way. Rost was afraid that Naomi had become one of those. “Thank you,” he echoed back at Neil. “I hope you are not doomed, as you say. ... and I hope Naomi just decided to spend the winter elsewhere.” He sighed, that last part not sounding too optimistic.
Neil shook his head softly. He didn't think Naomi had left willingly and he couldn't even force himself to try hoping for that. "Her friend... Nicole Thornton? She left town, they say. Quit her job, cleaned out her apartment and left without a word..." He didn't need to tell Rost how odd that was, or ask if him if he thought the two could be related. It was so obvious and so frightening. Rost probably didn't know about their history, that both women had gone missing back in the day. That Neil had gone missing too. He didn't really want to tell him that part, it should speak for itself that they were both missing now.
Rost avoided hospitals like the plague, so he didn’t know Nicole Thornton, but that did sound odd to him. He didn’t genuinely think Naomi abandoned her boat and her life willingly, and the fact that there was another missing woman as well just solidified the fact of foul play in his mind. Gods it was such a frustrating, impotent feeling. It was impossible to help without even knowing what they were up against. “I am sorry to hear that,” he murmured after a long moment. Rost leaned to grab the vodka bottle off of the counter and then poured himself another small swallow. “To lost friends.” Rost lifted his glass, then tossed the shot back. “I will ensure Sheriff Barrett knows of the connection.”
Neil nodded. He didn't want to go to the sheriff himself since he had no idea if the police department was in any way mixed up with the institute and whoever might be after them now. They might unwittingly be pawns or even willing participants and that wasn't a risk Neil was willing to take. "Don't tell him I'm the one who told you that," he said quietly. "Please." He thought he could trust Rost and he also didn't think They would be very interested in the groundskeeper. He was a little loopy so he probably didn't pose a threat and he wasn't directly involved with any of the missing group Neil had been a part of.
“Of course not,” Rost agreed with a shake of his head. He was never one to rat anybody out, especially to the cops, for anything at all. Even something as innocuous as knowing who was friends with who. He himself hadn’t been sure that Naomi had any other friends in town, so the tidbit of information was maybe helpful. Hopefully. Not that Rost had much hope left for her. It all put him into a dark mood, made him feel like maybe he was next. All of the people with their eyes open were going to disappear one by one. Rost got caught up in staring dully at the cheap table top, and halfway forgot that Neil was there at all.
Neil believed him but it didn't really put him at ease. He had to leave soon and walk through the cemetery by himself, then drive home by himself and spend the night in his home where he no longer felt safe at all. The silence stretched out between them but he barely noticed as his mind was very noisy with worries and questions. Eventually he snapped himself out of it and looked at Rost, his brows drawn together anxiously. "If I ever go missing-" he started, hesitating before continuing. "Then tell him it was me... Tell him I knew and that... that I would never just go away without letting anyone know."
Rost blinked out of his own reverie once Neil started talking again, and his brows furrowed more with every word. It wasn’t just a general warning, it almost sounded like Neil expected to disappear as well. “I will,” he agreed solemnly. Being someone’s lifeline like that was a solemn duty that he was going to take seriously. Rost thought for a moment, his lips pursed, then he arched an eyebrow at Neil. “Would you like me to check in sometimes? Every couple of days, perhaps?” Honestly, maybe it would be kind of nice to have someone also confirming that he was alive and well. He was so isolated out here, and now one of his regular visitors was gone.
"That won't be necessary," Neil replied somewhat sadly. He didn't want to involve Rost more than necessary and he didn't think checking in would really save him if someone was really coming after him. "I will tell my boss the same thing, that I will never leave without talking to him in person first... I will be back here soon enough though, I suspect. This is the only thing that keeps me calm these days." He patted his pocket where he had stashed his weed to indicate just what he meant.
His boss. Of course Neil had other people around to keep tabs on him. Rost wasn’t sure how long it would take anyone to notice he was gone. Jen visited at such random times, and he never knew when a customer would show up to buy from him. Given everything that was happening, the cops would probably notice fairly quickly, but that was a fluke. They might assume he’d skipped town for some reason, just like Naomi and Nicole. He gave Neil a faint, sad smile and nodded slightly. “I will be here,” he murmured.
If Neil had even an inkling that it had not merely been a selfless offer he might have considered taking Rost up on it, but as it was he was certain Rost had plenty of friends. He always thought everyone around him had a better grasp of being human and social. Neil didn't feel good at either of those things. "I should get going," he mumbled. "When are you talking to the sheriff again?" He was honestly interested in knowing what would come of that, if Rost's worries would be dismissed or addressed appropriately.
Rost gave another small nod at the idea that Neil should get going. As much as he wanted to retain the company, Rost wanted even more to drink himself into an oblivion for the night. Maybe not smart, considering the circumstances, but it still felt necessary. If something came for him, at least he wouldn’t feel much. “I will call tomorrow,” he answered Neil’s question. Grady had come and gone a lot today, and Rost didn’t expect him to come by in person again. A phone call should do it. He stood up to see Neil out, which consisted of walking a few feet forward and opening the trailer door. “Be safe out there,” Rost murmured, aware now that Neil knew more of what that meant than most.
It was a thing people said - and meant - but in the moment it occurred to him how stupid it sounded. Sure you could be safe when driving, but that didn't mean other drives would be safe. In his case, he could sneak around all he wanted and carry his gun with him but that didn't mean he could fend off whoever They sent for him. The thought made his stomach lurch unpleasantly and he tried to smother that chill going through him. "I will," he said, because that was the acceptable answer to a friendly expression. "You too, Rostislav."