Mothman Roche (mothmanroche) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2024-03-01 14:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | #july 2018, dahlia, kennedy, kennedy x moth, moth, rostislav |
Who: Kennedy and Moth with Dahlia and Rostislav
Where: Juniper and Main Street
When: Morning, Friday 7/13
Having access only to communal bathrooms sucked pretty bad in the morning. It hadn't been a big deal the night before but it seemed everyone was getting up at a similar time and Moth woke up to people moving out in the hall long before his alarm went off. He was just thankful he'd actually fallen asleep early as he tended to do when on the road. It wasn't until he was fully settled in somewhere that he let himself stay up later and later. He glanced over at Kennedy who was softly snoring and couldn't help but feel a little jealous of him for not waking up to all the bustle - but he knew feeling jealous of someone's disability was pretty fucked up. He could have used earplugs like a sane person - he just had this weird feeling that one of them had to be able to hear what was going on around them for safety or something.
He stayed in bed a little longer, browsed his phone until his bladder got too insistent about getting emptied and only then did he put on a shirt and shoes to head outside. He still wound up waiting, idly listening in on the neighbors chatting in front of him in line, some lady from Virginia who'd been there a few days and had nothing but praise for the town doing most of the talking. It was kinda nice, though he was sure people in nearby rooms probably didn't appreciate the pitch of her voice. When he was done out there he let temptation lead him and crawled back into bed, checking his email accounts and social media for a bit. At some point he heard Kennedy stirring on the other bed and glanced up to meet his gaze - groggy right now but always so intense that it felt like he was looking straight into his mind. "Morning," Moth murmured, even if Kennedy couldn't hear him. He smiled though, in case Kennedy's vision wasn't all clogged up with sleep.
Kennedy had slept pretty well in the unfamiliar bed. He hadn’t been woken up by any supernatural shenanigans in spite of this supposedly being a haunted inn. If there had been any noise in the night, he’d obviously missed it, but Moth hadn’t woken him up for any reason, so he had to assume it had been fine. It usually was, in these ‘haunted’ places, in Kennedy’s experience. He’d rolled over to see Moth browsing his phone, looking comfortable and chill, and he lip-read the greeting with no problem ... a lot of it was context clues and intuition anyway. He lifted one hand to spell out ‘morning’ with his fingers, too lazy to do the full greeting with both arms, and gave Moth a groggy smile back.
A few heartbeats later, he groaned softly and rolled onto his back again to stretch, pushing his hands against the headboard above his unruly curls to flex and wake his body up a bit more, his knees lifting under the blankets. There was shit to do today -- settling into their more long-term residence, exploring the town, going to an art fair. Kennedy was kind of excited about the last part. He was going to have to be careful of minding his wallet. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes and face before turning to sit on the edge of the bed and face Moth. Kennedy kept the blanket over his lap to cover his morning wood for the moment. “Have you been up long?” he asked and signed.
Moth put his phone aside and sat up enough to properly sign that yes, he'd been up a while and even ran into their neighbors - though his signing wasn't quite that detailed yet, the point was made. "We've got time to pack and get breakfast before we load the car and go to the art festival," he said and he hoped that all the other guests would have shuffled off soon so he could jump in the shower. If not, oh well, he'd be a little less than fresh today until he got to the airbnb. "It's a little less busy out there now if you need the bathroom," he added and then wrinkled his nose. "There was a line this morning." He hadn't minded too much, thankfully he hadn't been desperate to pee or anything, but it had felt a little weird and he was looking forward to not having to do that again.
Kennedy made a gag-face, thinking about having to contend with other people’s morning shits. He had a sensitive nose, and while he could tolerate sharing a bathroom with people he liked, the general public ... ugh. It at least killed his boner to think about, which made it less awkward to stand up and move to his bag to pull out some clothes to put on. There wasn’t much to pack up again on his side, just his notebook and the clothes he’d worn yesterday. Once he was dressed, Kennedy grabbed his toothbrush and paste and wiggled them at Moth on his way to the door. “Be back in a few and we’ll go down to breakfast, yeah?” If they had to share a bathroom with the rest of the floor, the promised free breakfast had better be good.
Moth nodded at him and used the time he was away to get up and get dressed proper. He took some pictures of the room just for the hell of it, then snapped one of Kennedy when he re-entered the room, giving him the boyish grin that usually let him get away with anything. It had become a habit to write down random things about the places they stayed and take some pictures because he never knew when it might become relevant as something they could use for the show. Breakfast was serviceable and it was nice to just sit and eat quietly as they still adjusted to being awake but then it was back to bustling and they carried what little they'd brought inside to the car after checking out. "It was a nice room," Moth said as he glanced back at the hotel and maybe Roland would agree to do a piece on it, and rent the supposedly haunted room for a night of research. That'd be fun - if the haunted room had a private bathroom.
Food always put Kennedy in a good mood, and Juniper had a pretty good spread for him to dig into. That was the downside to a ‘bnb place, there was nobody around to make breakfast for them. He could cook decently enough though, so he tended to trade off cooking duties with Christie, he was just the biggest breakfast fan in the house. Roland always slept late, and Moth was just chill about everything, all the time. Kennedy put his hearing aids in before they left with their stuff, in anticipation of being around a bunch of people later in the day, so he caught what Moth said even with the head turn. “Yeah, not bad,” he agreed. “Could use more bathrooms though.” Which was obvious, but he was definitely going to add that into the review he wrote for the place. Kennedy pulled the side door of the van open to shove his backpack inside, then held a hand out to Moth. “I’ll get us there, gimme the keys.”
Moth was more chill with Kennedy driving when he was wearing his hearing aids - it just made it easier to communicate - so he handed the keys over and headed for the passenger seat, content enough to let him take the wheel. It gave him some time to look at the local map which had often led them to stop in weird places whenever he spotted something random on there worth checking out - or not worth it in some cases but there was really only one way to find out. The way to Main Street from Juniper was far too short for him to find anything of interest to do right now but he'd favorited a couple of places by the time Kennedy found them a parking spot. "Being early's got its perks," he murmured as he pocketed his phone and looked around, taking in the general vibe of the place. "Unless it's just not a busy place in general." He was referring of course to the fact that there was still plenty of parking available but then again there tended to be a lot of parking spaces in most places in the States and he wasn't really used to that.
Kennedy enjoyed driving, even if it was technically more dangerous for him to do so. It was a mitigated risk with his aids in, and sometimes he couldn’t just keep sitting in the passenger seat, he needed a bit of control. Moth was usually pretty relaxed about it since Kennedy didn’t insist too often, and he was good at helping Kennedy navigate unfamiliar streets. They were able to park close to the entrance of the art fair, and he was already feeling that energy of going and doing something fun. “Small town, who knows,” he answered, shooting Moth a little grin. “We’ll find out.” It was always interesting to actually hear Moth, since he didn’t wear his aids a ton. Kennedy had learned to read his particular lips over the weeks and months they’d spent together, but actually hearing that soft accent of his was different somehow. He liked it, even when there was ambient noise that could get so overwhelming so quickly. There didn’t seem to be a ton of people there yet today though, so maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. He cut the engine and pushed the door open to climb out, eager to explore a little.
It was already past ten but there were still some artists setting up and arriving and that seemed on par with the artist life. Moth immediately liked the vibe and he couldn't wait to browse the stalls and enjoy the New England architecture. It was nice out this early, not too warm yet but just the right kinda weather that he could leave his jacket in the car and he breathed in deep, as if he could internalize all of his surroundings with a lungful of air. Events like these always tickled his artistic senses and made him want to do more. More drawing, more painting, more experimenting, sound and vision all growing louder in his mind and heart. It was definitely good for the soul. He could practically feel Kennedy vibrating with energy as they headed towards the festival itself and that too felt good and inspiring, creative energy was so restorative.
This wasn’t the first art fair that Kennedy had been to by far, but all of them felt like a brand new experience. Art was just so varied! One artist could have totally different offerings on their table from one fair to the next, and he loved to see it. He was particularly drawn to photography and paintings for obvious reasons, but Kennedy loved all of it, the kitschy bead art and the dreamcatchers included. He just loved to see humans making things, no matter what it was, and he loved that Moth seemed to really enjoy it too. Kennedy always secretly felt like they were the actual artists of the group, and that was a big part of why they got on so well and could stand traveling in such tight quarters all the time. He definitely appreciated that Moth wasn’t annoyed that he wanted to stop and browse at every open booth as they made their way down the street. Once they’d skimmed over a table full of knitted pot holders and drink cozies, he spotted another painting booth across the way and gave Moth a little nudge before he made a beeline for it.
Moth was more than happy to look at every little thing. The art and knicknacks were fun and Kennedy's interest in them all was contagious even when they weren't to Moth's taste. He turned when Kennedy nudged him and did a bit of a double take. The paintings in that booth were adorable but that wasn't the first thing Moth noticed, the fact that there was a woman of color hosting that booth was and that perked him up a little. All white places could feel so claustrophobic, it was always a relief to see someone non-white around even if he knew better than to try to surround himself with an entirely black friends group - that was just asking for trouble. He gave the woman a warm smile as he followed Kennedy over there, his interest piqued. Not in that way, she was a little on the smaller side from what he normally found attractive (much like Kennedy) but she was gorgeous and her paintings were pure joy. "Kittens and doggos and sisters, this is the happy booth," he drawled when they got closer, letting his gaze trail over the pictures of a variety of animals in funny little costumes.
Dahlia loved that this weird little town had so many art fairs. She’d been painting up a storm to get ready for this one, hoping it would give her a boost in income. Things weren’t dire yet, and Elodie still spent a lot of time away from the apartment, but Dahlia was still supporting two people on an artist’s budget. She’d set up her booth strategically, with the cute and quirky animal portraits front and center, and her darker and more personal paintings toward the back of the display, set up behind where she was sitting and in the back left corner. That was what the short white boy with the curls seemed drawn to as soon as he spotted them, but Dahlia was more interested in his companion. Living in Point Pleasant, every person of color really did stick out, and she was trying to get acquainted with them one by one. “We try to find the joy where we can around here,” Dahlia replied with a bright smile. Neither of the two young men looked familiar, but it was tourist season after all.
Her choice of words caught Moth's attention though and he wondered if it was just a phrase or if she meant something by it. Joy could be hard to come around at times, he was well aware of that, sometimes homemade joy was all there was and the recipes weren't always savory. "Hope it's not too hard to find," he said with the same easy smile as he glanced at the darker art behind her, intrigued. "You painted these?" he asked and then gestured at the pet portraits. "Any of those critters yours?" He missed having a cat but being on the road all the time meant he hadn't really had time for an animal companion since he arrived in the States.
“I did,” Dahlia confirmed with a nod. “Everything here, I painted. But no, none of them are mine, sadly. Most of these are just friends’ pets or random animals from reference pictures, but I do commissions too, if you have a particular furry friend you would like to see ...” She glanced back at Kennedy, who was staring hard at one of her non-animal works, then smiled again at Moth. He had an interesting accent, not one that she had heard around here, that was for sure. “Can I ask where you’re from?” Dahlia was curious, and the young black man was giving off a good emotional vibe, so she figured he wouldn’t take offense to it.
It wasn't a touchy subject to Moth, but it felt complicated to someone who didn't really feel like he had any roots - but if anyone could relate to that it was an African American, just in different ways. "Well I was born in Paris, France," he replied since he'd learned the hard way that just saying Paris tended to make people think he was American. This lady looked pretty sharp though, so she probably would have made the connection. "But we were always on the move. Paris is kinda... headquarters though, I guess. How about you? You from here? Or just in town for the festival?" It seemed like a logical thing to ask, so many people were obviously tourists and so far some of the artists had been out of towners too.
Her brows lifted slightly when he said ‘France’ ... his accent wasn’t terribly heavy, but there was a lilt in there she hadn’t recognized. That was interesting. It was probably terribly American-centric of her, but she didn’t generally think of black people actually being from western Europe. “Originally from Florida, but I’ve been living in North Carolina for many years. I’ve been living up here for ... well I guess it’s been a little over a month now. Six or seven weeks. I’ve got some family up here.” Dahlia could relate to moving around a lot, she’d done quite a bit of it herself, just not internationally. “What brings you all the way out here? This don’t hold a candle to Paris, I’m sure. If you don’t mind me being nosy.” She glanced over at his companion, who still seemed more interested in her art than the conversation, but that was fine with Dahlia. Maybe he would buy something.
Moth laughed because of course she had a romanticized idea of Paris, everyone did and the culture shock could be real and was thus named after Paris. "My dad is actually American so I've been here a few times and Paris? Isn't all that, Berlin is way nicer. But to answer your question, we're actually working." He gestured at Kennedy with his thumb and smiled. "Working on a podcast, this place has some interesting history we're gonna take a nosedive into." He found himself flexing his fingers a little as he spoke, not quite signing, more like playing an imaginary harp or something, his fingers just wanted to move. He probably spent way too much time with Kennedy, not that he minded. "No offense though, but Florida's got a reputation. Is all that stuff true?"
Kennedy wasn't listening hard to the chit chat behind him, but Moth mentioning the podcast drew his attention away from the painting he'd been staring at. He ambled in a bit closer, glancing between the artist lady and Moth. He smirked a bit at Moth's question -- he'd been down to Florida a few times in his life, but partying down there was way different than living there.
Dahlia laughed, then made a pained sort of face and tilted her head back and forth. "None taken, it can be a pretty crazy place,” she chuckled. "The heat drives people mad, you know. But it's beautiful too. I don't really miss it, though.” It seemed like he could relate to that. She gave the white boy a little smile and directed her question to both of them. "So you two are doing a podcast? What's it about? None of that manosphere type bullshit, I hope.”
"Wha, you got a problem with the manosphere?" Moth asked and folded his arms, but his body language made it pretty clear that really wasn't what they were on about. He quirked a brow and gave her an easy smile as he settled back into an open position. "We're actually more of a history meets myth kinda people, been traveling around looking at the history of cryptids and ghost stories around the country." He was well aware there were plenty of podcasters and youtubers doing just that but thanks to Roland, they had funding and it was really more of a passion project that had actually gotten a bit popular. "Here," he murmured and patted down his pockets for his wallet, digging out a card he usually gave to people they interviewed. "If you ever wanna check it out, we have a couple eps up already."
“He’s being modest, we have a full season up, plus some extras,” Kennedy cut in as the woman took the card from Moth. He didn’t know why Moth tended to downplay their pod to other people, but he supposed that was why Moth wasn’t in charge of promotion. Kennedy wasn’t either, nobody would ever accuse him of being a People Person, but their extrovert wasn’t with them at the moment. He stuck his hand out to the woman. “I’m Kennedy, this is Moth. I like your art.”
Dahlia shook with him, giving the other man -- Moth, what an interesting nickname -- an amused glance. “Thank you! And yes of course, the French are notoriously humble,” she said lightly. She looked at the card and then slipped it into her pocket. “Nice to meet you both, I’m Dahlia. Welcome to Point Pleasant ... if that’s the type of thing you’re interested in, you’re going to find a lot of content here.” They probably already knew that, since they’d shown up to this tiny coastal Maine town from elsewhere.
"Eh, sometimes you say couple and you mean many," Moth said with a dismissive little wave at the Americans but he laughed too because well, yes he was probably being very humble which wasn't terribly french of him. "I like your name," he said then, more seriously. "It's uh... pretty but tough, no? The flower?" It also brought to mind Black Dahlia but that was a terrible connection to make considering that poor woman's demise. The flower was safer, unless Dahlia herself brought up the murder. Ironically she was a black Dahlia but he was sure she was well aware of that. "Do you know any good stories of this place?"
Dahlia was very aware of the mental connection most people had to her name, a lot of them had not been as tactful as Moth. She loved her name in spite of the grisly coincidence, and the compliment had her beaming all over again. It helped that she could sense their sincerity. "Yes, like the flower,” she confirmed. "Not sure if it's your given name, but I am very fond of moths. They're a delight to paint.” His question was a bit less pleasant to respond to, and Dahlia's lips pursed to the side as she immediately thought of Grady’s dream injuries. She wouldn't really call it a good story, and it wasn't hers to tell anyway. "I haven't lived here long enough to really learn all the local lore ... but there is a ton of it. Find someone who grew up here, you'll have stories to last you years.”
Moth perked up a little. "You hear that, Kennedy? Years!" He nudged Kennedy playfully and smiled at Dahlia again. He didn't want to spend years in just one place but this meant there should be more than enough material for an episode or even two. More was always better, it was easier to trim down than it was to fill the blanks. "Any recommendations?" he asked even if they already had a few people's names and emails jotted down. It couldn't hurt to have more and getting this lady's number might not be a bad start - for entirely professional reasons. Like art...? Who was he kidding, she was very pretty and he couldn't say he wasn't interested in getting to know her.
Kennedy chuckled at Moth’s choice of words and signed I don’t hear shit, just to give him a hard time. He’d heard the lady this time, but he could never pass up an opportunity to turn a slip of the tongue into a joke. He didn’t expect a response, his attention on Dahlia, since he was also curious if she had any suggestions for them.
The fact that she was dating an incredible source of information crossed Dahlia’s mind, but she couldn’t exactly recommend that two random dudes go down to the station to talk to Grady. He absolutely wouldn’t appreciate that and she couldn’t blame him. “I’m not the best tour guide, sorry guys, I’m still learning my way around myself,” she said with an apologetic nose-wrinkle. “I know there’s a little museum at the lighthouse, but I haven’t actually gone. But there are a few local watering holes that I’m sure you could hear some stories in ... The Back Porch is one, Dragonfly is another, though it’s a little more upscale. Oh and the library here is surprisingly good, if that’s the kind of research you want to do.”
Moth wished he could say she was giving them some brand new and exciting ideas but all those places were on the list so he just nodded with that same drowsy smile. "Well, we're not paying you to be a tour guide so no need to apologize," he said and glanced at her paintings again. "So if I get a cat again and want to commission you, you got an online store or something?" It was probably time to move on and look at more art and speak to more people even if he wouldn't mind just hanging around this stall and speaking a little longer to a pretty lady. He kind of wanted to ask her if this town was friendly to people like them but it didn't feel right so he just decided it had to be at least semi-okay if she was comfortable enough setting up an art stall.
“I do, actually!” Dahlia said, with a note of realization in her voice. She had a business card too that she had totally forgotten to give to Moth in return. She leaned to reach for the little card holder on her table. Since the white boy had seemed interested in her darker art, she grabbed two and offered one to each of them with a smile. “That’s got my Insta and Etsy on it ... and my number, if you need a friendly face while you’re here.” Dahlia directed the last part more to Moth, aware on a level that didn’t need to be spoken that it could be nerve-wracking to be a person of color in a majority white small town. There was an undercurrent of wariness and stress she could sense from every other black newcomer she’d met in this town. Point Pleasant wasn’t very racist in her experience so far, which was a relief, but that was a difficult thing to read on the surface. “I’ll be looking up y’all’s show too, so it better be good,” she added with a more playful grin.
"Ooh, I love Etsy," Moth said almost reflexively as he looked at her card. "It's like a vast space of art right in your own room." He loved how creative people could be, all the strange little knick knacks they were making and selling. He loved to dabble with it all too but he had a long way to go to reach any kind of true talent and too many interests to hone any one of them. "A market like this is nicer of course, outside and sunny with face to face talking." He glanced over at her darker paintings as he spoke. There was no sun to be found in them, just strange and hypnotic landscapes that really caught the eye. It was tempting to buy one just to see what it was like tripping while looking at it but he had a feeling it might not be the happiest of trips. He enjoyed those too though, everything was an experience. They had a van so it wasn't like they'd have a hard time getting a painting around but it still felt kind of silly to buy big art when he was on the road. "Are you here for the whole day?" he asked and wondered if Kennedy would like a painting too, it'd make more sense to buy one then.
“Mmhmm, you can’t really recreate the human interaction over DMs,” Dahlia drawled in agreement. She watched Moth look around and felt that he liked her art and was tempted to buy some, so the question made her smile. “Yup, I’m here all day long.” A lot of the time when people asked that they really had no intention of coming back. Moth felt genuine though, even if Dahlia really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping in on his emotions. She could admit to indulging in a bit of artist vanity from time to time, but who didn’t like to know people appreciated their work? Dahlia was getting the same impression from Kennedy, but Moth was more talkative and therefore more interesting. If she could make a sale today she would be happy, two would be even better.
Kennedy had already made up his mind to buy a painting and stash it at their Airbnb for however long they were there. He did technically have a shared apartment back home with walls he could decorate, even if he was hardly there. He was really the perfect roommate. But he didn’t want to carry around a big canvas all day while they explored, so they could come back to this booth before they left. That was his internal plan, anyway. There was still a lot of art fair to look at. He was getting a little antsy to leave, so he ambled a few feet away to look at the goofy animal ones at the fringes of the booth.
It had taken Moth a while to get used to the rushed goodbyes in the northern regions of the United States. Both back home and in the south, people were more relaxed and more chatty. Kennedy was a northerner spitfire though and Moth was used to that by now so he backed up and rubbed his hands together. "Very nice to meet you, Dahlia, we will see you later. A tout a l'heure." He gave her a little wave before turning around to his impatient companion, lightly patting Kennedy's arm before fully turning to leave. "Do you want to buy a painting?" he asked with just a minimum of ASL for 'you want buy'. Two paintings was probably too many but if they could agree on what to put on their wall, they could chip in together.
Kennedy gave Dahlia a nod and a cursory wave as she called out a goodbye in return, then fell into step beside Moth to head down the row of booths. The question made him grin a bit. “I really do actually, her art was rad. Was it that obvious?” he asked, glancing over at Moth. He began to sign with his words, his expression turning cheekier. “Speaking of obvious ... she was cute, right?” Moth did almost everything in a lowkey manner, but Kennedy had been hanging out with him long enough now to tell when he was attracted to someone. In spite of the little crush he’d been nursing, he found it cute and amusing more than anything else.
"Cute? No," Moth said with a dismissive wave. "That is a beautiful woman." He didn't even know if he'd do anything about it, it was just nice lightly flirting with someone and appreciating a well shaped face. He liked the signs for the two words too, they felt like an emphasis on what he was saying and were easy signs to remember. One of them light and playful, the other more reverent. "Which painting did you like? If you put one up I won't have to buy one." He was mostly just curious about a single night experience with it and depending on how that went, he might not want to look at it much after. Or he'd be enthralled by it, only time would tell.
Grinning, Kennedy held his hands up when he was corrected. He couldn't argue, she had been gorgeous. And very talented, which always added to the attraction, for him. Moth had been the one chatting her up though, so Kennedy had no desire to flirt for himself. Probably nothing would come of it anyway, but it was nice to meet artsy people here. It made him laugh a bit that they both wanted to buy from her. "The one with all the greens and blues," he said and vaguely recreated the landscape shape with his hands. There had been so much depth and cool lighting in it, it had drawn him in. "I'll split it with you and you can do the buying if you want,” Kennedy added with a suggestive smirk.
Moth thought he knew which painting Kennedy was talking about but his attention had been more on the artist than the art if he was being honest with himself. He tittered though and gave Kennedy a look and a vague gesture of gratitude and grace. "I just wanna trip to it sometime," he admitted. "You can keep it when we go back." He wondered if they had any tattoo artists in this town, it had become almost a ritual to trip and get a tattoo in as many locations as he could and this town already felt a bit special. Maybe because he'd never been this far up north before; the air was different, it all felt very exotic to him.
If that was all Moth wanted it for, Kennedy wasn’t going to make him pay for half of it, and he gave a little grunt. It hadn’t been grossly overpriced or anything, but good art was worth paying for. He thought he could spare it, and he always liked supporting local artists wherever they went. “I’ll let you borrow it,” he signed, then gave Moth a dismissive little wave. There was music up ahead around the corner of the aisle they were walking down, a guitar, and it drew his attention. It sounded kind of metallic to him and probably a little warped, but it was nice all the same. Before they reached it, they came up on a handmade jewelry booth he wanted to take a look at with his mother in mind. She expected a gift whenever he went back to Jersey, and Kennedy liked to get it out of the way.
Moth rolled his eyes because he had every intention of chipping in for the painting. It would decorate their temporary home for the next few weeks, he kind of saw it like rental. He didn't argue though, not right now, maybe he'd bring it up when it was time to actually buy the piece. He was distracted soon enough by the music and couldn't help but wiggle a bit to it, the urge to dance never far away - even if it was just a subtle rock of his hips and shoulders. Music had played such a big part of his life and unlike his sister he'd been sucked right into it all, studied it and worked with it just like his parents. Not all music was equal of course, but whoever was playing now was good and it was kind of folksy and pretty. "For your maman?" he asked as Kennedy browsed the jewelry, his attention elsewhere, torn between a pretty lady, a spooky painting and the music that was kind of luring him away.
“Yeah, you know how she is,” Kennedy confirmed as his eyes swept over an array of bracelets. Moth had never officially met his mom, but he’d overheard the audio of many Facetime calls while they were on the road. His mother could be shrill. He could see Moth’s distraction when he glanced up though, so he hurried to find something in the colors she liked, and paid for it. He folded and tucked the small paper bag into his pocket once the business was done, and nudged Moth out of the tent with a smile. He didn’t try to stop them again, and a moment later they were rounding the corner, headed toward the music. It was coming from a booth a few places down, which had a tall skinny man standing out in front of it with a guitar, strumming and singing along in a language that sounded unfamiliar to Kennedy. It was always a little jarring to hear not-English with his hearing aids in, like for a moment his brain panicked that the words didn’t make sense because of him, but he always caught on a moment or two later.
The singing was fascinating to Moth because it was in a language he didn't speak and yet it sounded familiar. Eastern European, possibly, and his interest was piqued. The guy sure looked Eastern European and Moth knew he'd have to find out where from before they left here. Provided that the guy wasn't - like too many Eastern European - openly racist. It took only a moment to suss out that he wasn't once they stopped to listen, the friendly demeanor didn't change and he even smiled back when he saw them watching. There was a line to the tent where a young woman was reading cards and some of those people had already tipped so Moth dug around in his pockets for some loose change, staying off from the line for now. Psychics could be fun but he didn't love paying them.
The mustachioed man with the guitar looked pleased as punch to have new members of the audience, and he sang directly to Moth and Kennedy for a few moments before the song ended. Kennedy was sure it sounded much better without the distortion, he tended to take his cues from Moth about how accurately he was hearing anything, and Moth looked appreciative. When the guitarist finished with a flourish, his long legs spread wide, belt-scarves swaying in the breeze as he strummed madly for a few bars, then spread his arms with a wide grin. Sunlight glinted off of a gold tooth, and Kennedy grinned as he clapped. It reminded him of trips to NYC, buskers on the street and in the subway, playing for a living ... even as a deaf teenager, he’d been fascinated. It gave him a semi-pleasant pang of nostalgia.
Rostislav bowed to his new audience and gestured with the neck of his guitar as he gave his usual spiel to invite them to step into line to get answers from the cosmos to their questions from the lovely and talented lady under the tent. His job was always half busker, half carnival barker at these things, and he was more than happy to do so and talk up his lady love. It was definitely more cheerful than tending the cemetery.
Moth playfully curled in on himself in indication that no, he didn't wanna know his future, giving him a crooked smile. "My third eye's sleepy today," he said and shook his head and hands no. "No future stuff yet, it's too early." He knew tarot readers didn't exclusively deal in predictions for the future but he wasn't in the mood to be introspective either, more curious about Rostislav and his story than he was about unearthing some hidden aspects of himself. "Maybe we can borrow you for a minute though? I'm curious about your accent. I feel like I should know it but I'm getting my regions mixed up." He made a little awkward face and stopped himself from guessing. Not everyone liked it when he guessed - especially when he got it wrong and named a language they didn't really care for.
Not a lot of people stopped to chat with him at these things -- all the locals knew him already and the tourists were more drawn in by what went down in the tent -- so it was a pleasant surprise to be approached directly by a couple of handsome friendly faces. Rost gave the taller black man a big smile, thinking he was detecting some sort of non-American accent in his words too. It was just much more subtle than Rost’s. He slung his guitar around so it was hanging on his back, more than happy to take a little break. “I hail from Czech Republic, but I am Roma,” he told them, his gaze ticking between the two men. He didn’t recognize either of them, and they couldn’t have looked more different, but obviously together. Not that Rost cared, he stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere he went and only vaguely matched Greer in their sense of style. “And you? You are not a Mainer, by my ear.”
Moth only knew one word in Czech and it wasn't for polite company. It gave him that itch he always got when he didn't know something, like he needed to go learn every word he could so he could come back and talk to this man in his own language. It was insane and he acknowledged that and in doing so it was easier to push the urge away. "France and Jersey," he said and pointed to himself and Kennedy respectively. "I've been to Prague a couple of times, beautiful city. Not that I got to see a lot of it." He knew damn well the prejudice against Roma people in Europe but he preferred to go with his gut feeling when it came to people rather than some dumb social standard. "We're both a long way from home."
Rost beamed when the young man said France. He didn’t often run into fellow Europeans in Point Pleasant, though Moth obviously wasn’t the first, since Rost had woken up with one that morning. Dev hadn’t been the first either, tourist season brought in quite a wide variety of people. This guy was the first Frenchman Rost could remember meeting here, though. “We are!” he agreed with enthusiasm, offering his hand out to Moth. “I am Rostislav, but just Rost is fine. I lived for half a year in Paris when I was younger. I love the French. Welcome.”
"Oh nice," Moth said and this opened up a whole new conversation about where Rost had lived and when, about how far away from where Moth had lived it was, about the metro, about the neighborhoods. It felt a bit like being back there and that always gave Moth mixed feelings. He always loved Paris more when he wasn't actually there. He realized after a few moments that this was probably the most boring thing ever for Kennedy so he changed the topic again. "So we're just a couple of drifters," he said with a smile and nudged Kennedy. "We still are too, we're traveling around the country, collecting stories. I bet you have some good ones." This was the second person they talked to in the market and they were both outsiders. If the third person they talked to was from out of town too, Moth would start coming up with theories about it. Whether they'd hold water was an entirely different story.
Kennedy struggled sometimes with strong accents, between the slight hearing aid distortion and trying to lip read through the different way they pronounced things. He was used to Moth’s little verbal quirks, but this guy with the crazy mustache was more difficult to understand. So Kennedy zoned out a bit while they were chatting, taking in the visuals instead -- the man’s clothing style, the details of his guitar strap, the people around them. Losing track of a conversation he wasn’t directly involved in was just everyday life for him, so he wasn’t too bothered by it. Moth would get his attention if it was needed. When Moth did nudge him, he looked over and smiled -- ‘story-collecting drifters’ did describe them fairly well, didn’t it?
“Oh, I have stories upon stories, my friend,” Rost said with a delighted laugh. He loved to tell them too. Before his lovers had come into his life, he hadn’t had very many active listeners, mostly the kids who came to buy weed from him in his cemetery trailer and tourists he could corner for long enough. Rost had kind of enjoyed having a reputation as the crazy-rambling local character, but it was even better to be heard and believed. “What kind of stories do you collect?”
Moth told him the same as he'd told Dahlia and gave him a card too. "We don't try to disprove anything, it's more of an exploration of the paranormal with a look at historical events. We read people's accounts, find similitudes between areas, that kind of thing. We're actually looking for more people to interview if you're interested or know anyone who is." There was no guarantee that Rostislav had stories of interest but even if it didn't make it on the show, Moth just enjoyed talking to people and getting different perspectives. Maybe he was too quick to judge but this man looked like he'd have an interesting thing or two to say.
It sounded right up Rost’s alley and he looked at the business card for a beat before he tucked it away. On one hand it was delightful to have people around who were actually interested in the meaty history of Point Pleasant, but on another ... this town was sticky, and it could be dangerous. These two looked like nice young men, even if one of them was very quiet, and Rost didn’t want them to end up biting off more than they could chew. There were truly haunted places all over the world, nodes of dark energy and activity, but this was one of the worst Rost had ever heard of. Maybe that was just because he lived here, but he didn’t think so. “There is much history here, recorded and mysterious ... most people who live here will not talk about it, a lot of them do not remember ... but I do, for many things. So yes, I am interested.” His smile had faded a bit and he gave the pair a more somber look. “Just be careful. This place is not as safe as it appears.”
This wasn't the first time they'd been told that, they'd stayed in places they absolutely should not have gone into - let alone at night - and come out just fine. Every warning felt earnest so the fact that Rost looked like he really meant it wasn't particularly new either. "We try not to take any unnecessary risks," Moth told him and he meant that too. They didn't trespass or go into dangerous areas, they weren't urban explorers by any means. First and foremost interested in the stories and the history behind those stories which usually led them to popular places. Every now and then they ran into something smaller, lesser known and that was always a treat but none of them had ever shown any interest in spelunking dangerous areas. "You look like you're thinking of a particular place," he gauged, curious as to what this strange man had on his mind.
Rost knew that ‘unnecessary’ was totally subjective. Anybody could deem anything necessary, especially if they were desperate enough for content. He didn’t know these guys and how driven they were, he just hoped their intelligence overrode a desire for fame ... but that often wasn’t the case with young men, including himself back when he’d been young. His lips pursed under his mustache a bit as he considered giving them specific warnings about the tunnel and the Fallows and places like that ... but would that only drive them to those places faster? He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s untimely demise. “There are some, you will hear,” Rost said after a moment, giving an apologetic little smile. “I do not want to lead you there before you believe in the truth of them. I can offer something though -- I am caretaker of the cemetery here. I can give you a tour, and I have many stories of it.”
Moth's eyes lit up and he smiled earnestly. "I love a good tour," he admitted. "And you're the cemetery caretaker? That is so cool. Sounds like a really chill job. Unless it's haunted, of course." It probably wasn't an easy job, especially in the winter, but cemeteries had their own, nice vibe and people who took proper care of them had Moth's respect. "We'd pay you for your time of course, tours shouldn't be free." It felt only fair if they were going to be eating up the man's time and Moth really had no idea if he did this regularly or if he was offering them a special here.
“Oh it is very haunted,” Rost answered with a low chuckle. “By more than just the dead. It is a very special place though, and dear to my heart.” He didn’t routinely give tours to anyone, most of the locals were very familiar with the cemetery already, or they avoided it like the plague. Sometimes he showed tourists around if he happened upon them already within the gates, but it wasn’t anything he’d thought of setting up for profit. Rost waved off the offer of money with a shake of his head. “Not necessary ... but tips are welcome for me and my partners.” He gave them a gold-toothed grin and gestured toward the tent that housed Greer and Dev doing readings for people. Rost’s guitar case was open nearby with a few dollars tossed into it as well. He swung the guitar around again to strum out a few chords. “I will use your business card soon.”
Moth would probably try to pay him when the time came but for now he was happy to 'tip' and glad he always kept cash on him. "Well we know where to find you if you don't," he said playfully as he dug up some bills from his pocket. "Wouldn't wanna take that tour without you." He tilted his head to get a better glance at Rost's partners and it sure seemed like the three of them were a colorful bunch. "They're Czech too?" he asked mostly out of curiosity and wondered if he should take a chance and get his fortune read. Not for laughs - never for laughs - but because these people had a good vibe and he liked to support those kinds of people.
Rost beamed as both of his new visitors put cash into his case, then laughed a bit at Moth’s question. “No, no ...” he said. He stepped in closer to the other man and pointed into the tent to distinguish his lovers. “Greer is American, Devlin is Irish. I met them both here. This place draws people in from all over. And see, now we have a Frenchman!” Rost laughed heartily and clapped Moth on the back. “Soon we will have our own EU, no?” It really was delightful to have other Europeans around, even if all of their countries were very different. He turned his high-wattage smile on Moth’s curly headed companion, and added “No offense, of course, Jersey.”
Kennedy had dropped a few dollar bills into the Czech’s guitar case -- he’d been friends with buskers for a lot of his life, and he knew how hard of a hustle it could be. He caught enough of Rost’s response to Moth’s question to be amused and shrugged his shoulders when he was addressed. “None taken, I’ve heard a lot worse, believe me.”
"A very international art festival," Moth tittered and eyed the two inside the tent curiously. "No offense here either, I'm half American," he added teasingly. "I'm really from all over. No roots. My parents are musicians so we were-" he trailed off and twirled his hand in a show of spinning around. "At least Europe is easier to travel than America. I miss the trains." He wasn't about to say it in a square full of Americans but Europe was superior in so many ways that most Americans would never accept as truth. It had its problems just like everywhere but the stuff that was better was just so much better. And yet he was here.
Rost gave a knowing nod -- there were many things he missed about Europe, even though he’d been in the US for a very long time now. It delighted him a bit to hear that Moth was also a musical wanderer, and he strummed his guitar some more. “I am from all over myself, my friend,” Rost said. “It is in the DNA.” Moth’s parents likely weren’t Roma by blood, but some people were Roma in spirit. Rost had found and loved a lot of them. “What sort of musicians were they?” He couldn’t really judge by the look of the man, they could’ve been roaming guitar-bards like he was, or something more professional and fancy. Most musicians tended to travel to spread their art around.
Moth knew how this usually went. People took one look at him and assumed his parents were either jazz players or pop musicians if they were successful. "Still are," he replied and gave Rost the short version of the orchestra and how they'd traveled to most of the European major cities when he was growing up. "My mom plays the violin currently, my dad's a pianist but we kind of grew up with a slew of instruments in the house. Aaand I'm a sound tech." He grinned and gestured at Rost's guitar. "You should play us something." He knew Kennedy wouldn't fully appreciate it, he liked heavy bass when he didn't have his aids in but sound got distorted when he did. Moth however wanted to hear some, he'd only caught a bit of it as they walked up to the tent.
Rost was tempted to ask if Moth played any of those instruments himself, maybe they could jam together someday, but he probably would’ve mentioned if that was the case. It sounded like he’d gone in a different direction with his life, which happened fairly often to artists’ children. Still, growing up with music in the house was good for developing minds, so he had a feeling Moth was on a good wavelength. The request for a song made Rost beam all over again and he strummed his guitar with a flourish as he shuffled through the catalog in his brain to find a good option. “Ah yes, this is from my homeland,” he said before he started to play and sing. It was a Romani song about travel and loves gained and lost, and the bittersweet pill that was life, though it was more up-tempo than sad, all in his mother tongue. Within a minute or two, more eyes were on him, and some other people stopped to listen on their way past, and Rost sang to the wider audience, obviously enjoying himself.
Moth did play a few instruments, nothing like his parents did but decently enough. Some were more fun than others and watching Rost play gave him that tickling of wanting to do the same. Instead he enjoyed the show, sidling up to Kennedy to give the newcomers more space to watch - and tip! - as he slowly wiggled his hips and shoulders a bit to the music. "Do you wanna get your fortune told?" he asked Kennedy, leaning in as he spoke as if it was somehow conspiratory. He had no idea how to even begin signing that so he was glad Kennedy had his hearing aids in, sparing him the hassle of spelling it all out.
Kennedy never minded Moth getting closer, and he glanced at his musical friend with a little smile as he listened. He was sure he wasn’t hearing it as purely as everyone else who was obviously enjoying the show, but the music sounded good anyway, folky and fun. The people-watching was just as enjoyable, and Kennedy’s eyes were roaming when Moth asked him the question. He glanced over again and laughed a bit. “Nah, I’d rather it be a surprise,” Kennedy answered, forgoing the signing as well for the moment. He believed most of those fortune-telling people were frauds and quacks anyway. “Do you?” Grinning, he nudged Moth with his elbow. “I’ll pay for it if you do.”
Moth considered it, then smacked his lips and shook his head. "Maybe later, I wanna see more of the market before I start throwing more money 'round." He genuinely enjoyed things like that but today he felt a little too sober for supernatural things, like his mind was too closed off and not quite awake yet. He gave Rost a playful little bow and a wave as they headed away from his fun little stall and Moth hoped he got the gist they'd probably be back. If not, Rost had his card now and they knew where to find the local cemetery caretaker. "Ooh, shinies," he said just a moment later when he spotted another local (or not local?) artist selling a variety of crystals. "Let's see if there's magic involved there too."