Rostislav Zelenka (ghostsongs) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2017-12-11 09:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | #september 2017, neil, neil x rostislav, rostislav |
Who: Neil & Rost
What: Checking in
Where: Juniper Inn
When: Afternoon, Thursday 9/21
Status: Complete
Neil had spent his day in the library. He usually felt safe there but not today, jittery and jumpy and even more cranky than usual. When Honeycutt found out what had happened he sent him home - or more accurately: to the Bed and Breakfast. Neil didn't much want to stay there either so he drove to the cemetery to find Rost. They were both going through terrible things and Rost's little trailer would be a safer place to smoke than Juniper's.
He was in for a shock as he drove up to the cemetery gates. The whole place was sealed off with crime scene tape, no entry allowed. As if Neil hadn't been upset enough, now he was certain that whoever had been digging up graves had come back and killed Rost. Or worse, maybe it had been Them, because Neil had said too much.
With shaking hands he put the car in park and reached for his phone, dialling Rost's number. He fully expected a police officer to pick up and his heart was beating too fast as he waited through the ring tone.
It had been a long four days for Rost. He missed his home, shabby as it might be. Weird as it was, he missed being in the cemetery too. It was peaceful. Or at least it had been before. He didn’t know anything more about the graverobbing, he hadn’t even talked to the sheriff in a couple of days, and that felt distressing. Rost wanted to know when he could go home, even if the bill was being footed by the city for his room at Juniper’s. It was a nice room, the nicest he’d stayed in for a while ... but it wasn’t home.
He was lounging on the bed when his phone started buzzing, watching some television and eating some soup he’d made for a late lunch. He’d brought his crock pot and hotplate from the trailer, and they served to make simple meals here and there. He couldn’t afford to eat out all the time. Rost picked up the cell phone from the bed, tossing up a prayer that it was Barrett with news. It wasn’t. It was Neil instead, huh. Rost hit the button and put the phone to his ear. “You have not disappeared, hello my friend,” he greeted.
"Rostislav, oh thank God!" Neil blurted out, his head hitting the headrest as he took in the happy shock that Rost hadn't been murdered on his account. "I'm at the cemetery, I thought... It's all sealed up, I thought something happened to you." Rost sounded calm so clearly he was in no danger and Neil wondered if he was still at home despite the crime tape. At least this was a small mercy, only one terrifying event instead of two, he could handle that for now.
Rost made an ‘ah yes’ sort of sound when Neil mentioned the cemetery. He must have been stopping by. Could he be out of weed already? Rost could accommodate him, he had brought his stash, but maybe that wasn’t it. “I am still among the living ... in more ways than one. The police shut down the cemetery while they investigate what is happening. I am at Juniper’s for now.” He paused to take a swig out of the water bottle leaned against his thigh. “Are you all right? Did you need something?”
That was a good question and Neil had no good answer for it. He and Rost were hardly friends but they had shared some woes very recently and as a result Neil had come to him now. For what, he wasn't exactly sure. A safe place maybe, a small and brief sanctuary from his own worries perhaps. "You're at Juniper's?" he said with some bemusement as he could have gone to the hotel and called from there as clearly Rost was just down the hall from him. "I'm staying there too. My apartment was broken into last night."
Rost let out a short laugh at the irony, but put a lid on it quickly because having one’s space violated in such a way was no laughing matter. He could relate, deeply personally. “Then I am back where you started,” he said. “But I am sorry to hear that, I hope the damage was minimal.” He paused, considering for a moment. Rost was used to being alone, but without any work to do to occupy himself, the isolation was becoming tedious. “Return if you would like, dine with me. I could make use of the company.” Neil was jumpy and strange, but he was better than nothing. If he’d had a scare, maybe he needed the company too.
Neil was not used to invitations such as this and it took him a moment to think about it too before he accepted. "Are you eating at Moxie's?" he asked since all guests at Juniper's got voucher's at that place for dinner since Juniper only served breakfast. It was just as likely that Rost would order in. Neil didn't much feel like dining out in public at the moment, though he didn't feel like being alone either. It was a conundrum, one he didn't know how to deal with.
Living as he did, Rost didn’t often invite people to dinner. Not many folks wanted to come have a meal in a cemetery. He personally liked the balance of life and death, but he wasn’t most people. But now he was amongst only the living, so it felt more appropriate. “No, in my room. Room four. I cooked,” he explained. He’d really just thrown some things into the crock pot and let them cook themselves, but it was close enough. “Come, eat. We will smoke a joint out the window.”
"You cooked," Neil said with some amusement. Most people did not cook when they stayed at hotels but this shouldn't have surprised him. It was Rost, after all. "I'll be there in a few, thank you," he said and looked around the depressing sight of the cemetery grounds, off limits to all but law enforcement. At least his apartment wasn't an active crime scene and he had to wonder what had caused this drastic measure. No doubt Rost would tell him more if he asked him in person. He wasn't sure he liked the thought of smoking at Juniper's but he wouldn't refuse as he really needed to calm his nerves. Of course he would stop somewhere on his way back and buy some food, just in case Rost had cooked something heinous.
Rost had been having zero qualms about smoking at Juniper’s. He needed it, and if they kicked him out for it, so be it. It wasn’t like he was traipsing around with a lit joint in his mouth, he was keeping it on the down low, out the window and mostly at night. They could suck his dick if they didn’t like it, in Rost’s humble opinion. “Good,” he said into the phone, then hung up. There wasn’t much more to say, at least not until Neil arrived. Rost slurped up a bit more food, then set the bowl aside to get up and put on some decent clothes. He was having a dinner guest, he probably needed a shirt.
A little while later Neil was knocking on his door and giving Rost a tired little smile when he opened up. "Thank you for inviting me," he mumbled as he entered the room, unsure how to really act while there. Needless to say he didn't visit many people, he didn't really have friends and he only went to see his family when he absolutely had to. This was different and he stood around feeling somewhat out of place and stupid before he had the sense to unbutton his coat. There were hangers right there for him to put it on, it shouldn't be an enigma. He somewhat regretted not stopping by his own room first and leaving it there but it was too late now.
Rost was ready with a small smile when Neil arrived, stepping back to let him in with a grand sweep of his arm. His room was probably almost identical to Neil’s, but it was still a welcome into his temporary personal space, all the same. “Anytime,” he answered. He’d set up his mini-kitchen on the desk in the room, and Rost gestured at it. The crock pot was there keeping the stew warm, and he’d bought some plastic bowls and utensils. “Help yourself. I wish it was more.” Rost walked to where he’d set his guitar case next to the bag he’d brought with him, and squatted to open it up. He lifted the instrument and pulled a baggie out from underneath a false bottom in the neck of the case. It had several rolled joints in it, and Rost fished one out. “Your apartment, you said?” he prompted, glancing over at Neil as he straightened up again. “What happened?”
The room was a little different from Neil's room but most of it was on account of how different its inhabitant was. Neil sat down and he had to admit that the food he was expecting to be something awful and exotic actually smelled kind of good, though he still wasn't sure if he trusted himself to actually eat it. At the question he sighed and shook his head, also unsure just how much to confide in Rost. "Someone broke the lock on the front door," he muttered. "Nothing was stolen, it felt more like... Someone was trying to scare me." Or kill him, that was more likely, but that felt too big to actually say as it'd just beg more questions. "What happened at the cemetery?"
It was a simple story, and not one that was very terrifying, so Rost just nodded. Not a happy thing, sure, but he’d had worse. In the very recent past, in fact. He sighed a bit before he answered and rubbed at one eye as he made his way over to the window. It was still raining out, but the building had enough of a roof that he could open the window without it getting in. “Someone returned the body of Mrs. Mercer to me,” he said, his tone heavy and a little slow. Rost couldn’t help it. It was weighing on him more than he had the ability to express. “They ... dumped her in front of my home, on the ground. With no respect, no ...” Rost waved a hand, unable to find the word. He tucked the joint into his mouth instead and lit it up, leaning his lanky body over, arms on the windowsill so the smoke went outside instead of in. “The police are investigating.”
Neil cringed at that. At least whoever had broken into his apartment hadn't left him a corpse and while corpses belonged at the cemetery he didn't think Rost had ever had to directly deal with them. He took care of the grounds, he was there when they lowered the coffins but none of that involved the actual dead body. "I'm so sorry," he said and meant it. "I hope they find whoever did that. Do you think it was... personal?"
Rost took a hit off of the joint and shook his head slowly at that question. He exhaled through the screen into the gray afternoon, looking thoughtful. “I do not know for sure, but I cannot think of anyone who sees me as such an enemy,” he said. Sure, not everyone in town was his biggest fan, but to do that? Took some sort of monster. “It felt ... mocking, perhaps. An afterthought to show me I have no control there. Or their intent was to drive me off grounds. If so, they succeeded.” Not by his choice, but still. Rost took another small hit, then offered the joint in Neil’s direction with a quirked eyebrow.
Neil accepted the joint and took a deep drag of it, contemplating what Rost had said. It didn't make any sense but many things in this town didn't. The smoke went down smoothly and he held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. Funny how he'd thought weed was beneath him once and then he'd tried it just once and found out it was the kind of crutch he so badly needed to let go of his worries. "Did they take anything this time?" he asked quietly before taking another puff and handing the joint back to Rost. He remembered all too clearly what Rost had said about the first grave that was dug up and how a finger had been stolen.
Rost’s expression turned even more grim. He took another hit before he answered. “The sheriff said she was missing her tongue,” he said, his tone soft and sad. It was such a horrible thing to do to someone, even if they were dead. He blew some air through his lips in a helpless noise and shook his head, offering the joint back. It all just pulled him down so much. He hadn’t been able to think about much else all week.
Neil regretted asking, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the mere thought of it. Why anyone would do such a thing and subject themselves to such a disgusting act was beyond him but then most people didn't make a whole lot of sense to him. Grossed out or not, he was calmer now that he was in familiar company and had some THC entering his system and he gave Rost a sympathetic little smile. "Let's hope it's over."
He nodded, but Rost was doubtful. Something about the whole situation made it feel like it was just getting started. He could hope not, but it took real effort. “For you as well, my friend,” he murmured, giving Neil a little nod. He wasn’t sure how much hope to have for Neil’s situation either, if someone was truly trying to rattle him, but he was aware that things in general looked dark to him right then. No need to dwell there and spread that bleakness. “For now ... I have not had cable television for years,” he said, giving Neil a faint grin.
Neil stole his joint again and puffed it as he glanced over at the television. "I prefer books," he admitted. "But it can be nice and mindless, having the TV on." He wasn't exactly surprised that Rost never watched TV. He'd never seen one in the trailer after all. "Are you enjoying it?" he asked as he handed the joint back. There were always too many commercials he thought but when he was stoned enough that didn't matter.
“I will say it has served as a good distraction,” Rost answered with a low chuckle. There were a lot of commercials, but some of them were actually kind of brilliant. Few and far between, but Rost had been staying high most of the time, so it didn’t bother him much. He accepted the joint back and took another couple of big puffs off of it. “I too prefer books, but I left most of them behind.” if it ever stopped raining, and he was still stuck living at the inn, maybe he could wander down to the library to browse and kill some time. He held the pot out again as he exhaled through the window. It was all starting to sink in now, and he was feeling a bit better.
"Me too," Neil sighed. "Reading from a tablet just isn't the same but books are heavy." He was done smoking for now and shook his head to decline when Rost offered him more. His couch looked very comfortable at that moment and he shuffled over there. feeling a little dizzy was a small price to pay for feeling calmer but he knew it would fade but for now a soft couch was just what he needed.
Rost took one more puff from the joint, then put it out in the soda can he was using as an ashtray. He left what was left of it on the windowsill, giving Neil an amused glance as he settled on the couch. He looked about as stoned as Rost felt, and that was kind of nice. Maybe now they could both relax for a while. It seemed that they needed it. “I have water bottles in the mini fridge,” he said, ambling in that direction. “Thirsty?”
Neil was staring intently at the television where picture-perfect people smiled in picture-perfect kitchens and gardens, insanely happy about whatever product was being advertised. The sound was off which made it all a little more surreal and when Rost spoke it took Neil a moment to tear his gaze from the screen. "Yes," he said because he was thirsty and the thought of drinking was a good one. "Please. Thank you."
The vacant look on Neil’s face was a little amusing, but Rost didn’t outright laugh at him. He was stoned too, and he got that same way with TV when he was high. Rost pulled two water bottles out of the fridge and ambled over to hand one to Neil. That done, he went and climbed onto the bed, settling in with his back against the headboard. Rost picked up the TV remote and unmuted the sound, then started slowly flipping through channels to find something interesting to stare at.
Neil hadn't intended on staying long but he had to admit it was nice to be in somebody else's company, especially since he was absolutely certain Rost had nothing to do with Them. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to believe that but he did. He drank his water and settled in more comfortably, letting himself get lost in the TV and in that very fleeting feeling of safety.