greer (greerlove) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2017-12-23 13:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | #group scene, #september 2017, devlin, devlin x greer, devlin x rostislav, greer, greer x rostislav, rostislav |
Who: Greer, Devlin, Rost
Where: Juniper Inn
When: Friday Morning, September 22
Status: Complete
Greer was already in love with this little town on the coast, even if it had been raining non-stop since they arrived. She loved Main Street, with his old fashioned street lamps and tiny store fronts and how the town newspaper was tucked away in between a candle shop and a bookstore. She could smell the sea on the air, especially with the rain. Juniper Inn was a beautiful place. Warm with friendly employees. Greer was sure that to most people, the inn was cozy and welcoming, and it was. But she also got a strange feeling about the place, that it held secrets inside its walls. There was a sense of foreboding about the building, and she felt it as soon as they walked up the stairs to their room.
Still, Greer didn’t want to leave. The inn was intriguing to say the least and Greer was as eager to uncover its history as she was with the rest of Point Pleasant.
The next morning, Greer and Devlin opted to eat breakfast in the dining room of the inn, as it was complementary and there seemed no point in spending money elsewhere. They sat at a smaller table near the large fireplace, and there were only a couple other guests that had joined them. Greer sipped her coffee as her gaze wandered around the room. There were framed paintings of what Greer assumed was various sights in Point Pleasant, and attached to each frame was a small brass sign that included the names. Linoge Lighthouse. Sweetbriar Bridge. Pleasant Harbor. She filed these names away mentally, wanting to find each one whenever she and Dev decided to venture out into the rain to explore.
As optimistic as Greer was, Devlin was struggling to feel the same. Everything Papa Morrow had written and hinted at seemed dark and he had a feeling that touching anything in the hotel or town in general would result in seeing something horrible so... wary. That didn't stop him from babbling at Greer as they headed for breakfast, making small jokes and pulling a face as he posed next to one of the more kitch decorations in the hotel. There just was no point in being a downer all the time, not without a good reason, right? So he regularly got her attention with "Oi, Greer," before making her laugh with something dumb. She did not need to know how nervous he was about everything. It was a beautiful town though, despite everything drowning in rain at the moment.
It was another dreary day, and Rost woke up too early. All of this idleness, not having a job to do, not even being able to go outside and really walk, it was driving him crazy and making him sleep like shit. Having Neil over had been a distraction, but it had been too brief. He’d laid around in bed for a while, trying to force himself back into slumber, with no success. Rost had gotten up and taken a shower instead. He’d made the effort to shave, though he wasn’t sure why, and put on the last set of clean clothes he had -- dark red and black plaid pants, mismatched with a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. He reminded himself to ask if there was a washer at the bed and breakfast, or if he would have to go to a laundromat. That wasn’t a happy prospect, with all this rain. But what was, lately?
Breakfast was free, and the cheaper he got to eat, the better, so Rost made his way downstairs to the dining room. The fire made it cozy, and there were some newspapers and magazines strewn her and there to look at, so he supposed he could spend some time there. He didn’t even look around at who else was in the room, just shuffled over toward where the coffee was to make himself a strong cup.
Greer was lost in her thoughts as her gaze continued around the room and the paintings and a few framed newspapers that seemed to have articles about the inn. She doubted any of them included the darkness a building like this harbored. She was sipping her coffee again when the tall man with the colorful clothes walked in. Greer found herself watching him cross the room to the coffee and something in his face triggered her desire to touch him. She set her cup down on the saucer without another thought and stood, leaving Dev at the table as she crossed the room toward the other man.
She stood beside him and reached out for his hand before he could pick up a coffee cup. Greer turned his hand over, palm side up, and nestled it gently in her own. She traced a finger over his ring finger before dipping it down along the lines that ran crisscross over his palm, studying it intently before she smiled and finally brought her gaze up to his face. He was an easy read to her, but no less fascinating. "You have the shape of air," she told him. "You're adaptable by nature, innovative and optimistic. You're tolerant of others and never quick to judge them. You inspire." Greer paused and smoothed her thumb over his palm again before she arched a brow, her smile widening. "And...you're too creative and hungry for knowledge to work a 'normal' nine to five job."
Dev was long since used to Greer wandering off without a word, especially if it involved exploring people. Greer's love for people was nothing if not contagious and most people were accepting of her eccentric nature, however warily. There had only been a single occasion where someone got so rude with her that Devlin had stepped in. Sure there had been some fisticuffs but nothing too serious. She didn't do this with everyone though, sometimes someone just caught her interest and this time around Dev wasn't terribly surprised. The man looked interesting and he listened to Greer's assessment of him before craning his neck to get a better look at them. "That sounds like me, love. You looking to replace me?"
Rost felt the woman’s presence before he saw her, and before he could turn his head she was taking his hand. He didn’t resist in the slightest, just looked over at the stranger who was touching him. Rost knew exactly what she was doing as she turned his hand over -- it wasn’t his first time having his palm read, or even the dozenth -- and a faint smile quirked at his lips. The soft brush of her finger across his skin sent a wave of goosebumps up his arm. Rost listened intently, watching her face, and met her eyes without hesitation when she looked up at him. She was beautiful, of course, women who were bold enough to read palms without asking always were, in Rost’s experience.
He glanced over at the dark-haired man -- also beautiful -- left at the table when he spoke, then focused on the woman again. “Too flattering to be all truth,” Rost told her, still looking vaguely amused. She wasn’t too off-base, but those felt like easy assumptions to make, given his appearance. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What else do you see?”
Greer's gaze ticked to Dev and her lips quirked. He knew better than that, obviously. He was irreplaceable to her. Then her eyes were back on this man and she returned her attention to his palm. There was plenty that one could assume about him, just based on his appearance, but Greer liked to delve deeper. He was clearly someone who was comfortable in his own skin, and yet he seemed as though he felt out of place in this building. A sense of discomfort radiated from him, but it had nothing to do with Greer, and everything to do with whatever had brought him to this inn in the first place.
She ran her thumb over his heart line, frowning at how it broke just before his middle finger. "Your heart line is broken," Greer said, her tone softer now as she lifted her gaze back to his. Her eyes held a touch of sadness, as they usually were when she realized someone had suffered a terrible loss. Her empathy for others was strong, sometimes more so than she wished. "You were in love once. Passionately. It ended in heartache. I'm so sorry.”
Rost had known more than his share of people who were psychic, or at least had a touch of Something Special ... but he’d also known grifters and dishonest folks who were just good at cold reading and bilked people out of their money. He hadn’t paid for this though, and the look in the woman’s eyes seemed sincere to him. Perhaps she was one of those special people. Rost felt a familiar pang in his chest as he thought of Delle, a bittersweet old sensation. Time healed, but some wounds stayed tender. The confirmation was in the way his small smile turned sad, even before he nodded. “In another life, it seems sometimes,” he said. It was an intimate detail to share with a stranger, but so was touching another person’s palm. Rost glanced again at the man she seemed to be with, then back at the woman. “Is this how you two met?” he asked, his voice a bit lighter.
"Nah," Devlin said jovially, somewhat ignoring the sad vibe going on between them. "I inherited her from my grandpa. Best thing he left me." He tilted his head back again to grin at Greer then turned in his seat so he could stop craning in his neck. "Let her keep your hand much longer and she'll tell you things you never knew about yourself and that, brother, can get a bit harrowing." At least Greer saw pleasant things too, personality details and sweet little tidbits. Sometimes it felt like all Devlin ever saw with his gift was shitty and sordid stuff.
Greer had never believed she was anything truly special. But she had always been adept at reading palms and gaining insight into the person who stood in front of her. The body could reveal just as much as the soul. Greer could see the memory in his eyes, a pain that had dulled over time, but could still occasionally sting. Love could be so many things, but there was no bitterness there that she could see, or feel. Greer looked over at Dev and she smiled, his words lifting some of the pain she had felt for the man standing in front of her. He always knew what to say to bring her back from drowning in her own emotions when she was reading other people. Her heart was warm and Greer released a soft laugh.
"It's true," she told Rost, still clutching his hand, her thumb pressed against that broken line as if she could somehow heal it. "Papa Morrow passed and then Devlin appeared and he hasn't been able to shake me off yet. I did read his palm that first day," she explained, sounding amused. "And he's right, you two are quite similar." Greer exhaled happily and then looked up at Rost. "Have coffee with us."
Had Delle lived, Rost liked to think they might still be together, and his whole life might be different. Not that he was entirely unhappy with it under normal circumstances, it was just easy to look at some lost future with rose-colored glasses. The way the woman kept holding onto his hand made his wrist and forearm tingle pleasantly, and Rost didn’t want to pull away from it at all. He made a mental note of the man’s name, along with his thick accent -- Devlin sounded like an Irishman to Rost’s ears -- and was tempted to ask if he was okay with Rost joining them too. But he supposed that was something for them to work out between themselves. It was just coffee. He smiled a little wider at the woman, his gold tooth peeking out. “With pleasure,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, that requires both hands.” He didn’t pull it back himself though, preferring that she let go of him voluntarily.
As soon as Rost accepted the offer, Dev nudged one of the vacant chairs away from the table with his foot in a clear gesture that he was most welcome. "Only thing she can't see in your palm is your name," he said. "I'm Devlin, she's Greer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Greer smiled and squeezed his hand gently before she let him go so he could make his coffee. They had met a few people already since arriving, namely the bed and breakfast's employees, but none had really piqued Greer's interest quite like this man had. She was hoping Point Pleasant would be full of similar people and if the grounds ever dried up, she would be able to get outside and find out. Knowing that Devlin wouldn't mind the invitation, Greer returned to the table. He was used to socializing with random people Greer dragged over to him, and he tolerated it marvelously. She leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek before she sat back down and picked up her cooling coffee to take a sip.
Devlin and Greer. Interesting. Rost poured himself a mug of coffee and grabbed a big pinch of sugar packets to take with him to the table. He sat down in the chair Devlin had pushed out for him, then offered his hand out to the other man. Not to read this time, but to shake. “I am Rostislav,” he introduced himself. “Most call me Rost. Likewise, a pleasure.” He started tearing the sugar open and dumping it into his coffee, glancing between the two people. He was fairly certain he’d never seen them before, so he asked, “How long have you been in Point Pleasant?”
"Got here yesterday morning, arse o'clock sometime," Devlin replied after shaking his hand. "Been a long trip." He shot Greer a little smile because she put up with that eccentric shit too, leaving for Maine, investigating missing persons cases nobody cared about, following random clues in a journal. Most people he knew would have told him to drop it but not Greer. He'd seen her eyes light up at the mere thought of a mystery to be solved and that was his girl. "What brought you to Maine?" he asked then, assuming that Rost was just visiting too. He had a heavy accent of his own and he was staying at the inn after all.
Rost. She liked that name. She liked Rostislav better, only because Greer knew it would roll so smoothly off of her tongue. Greer returned Dev's smile with one of her own, only because he knew she hadn't minded the journey. The hours were long, yes, and the bus not terribly comfortable, but she had seen so much of the country, and met more than a few fascinating people on the way. And now here they were, in this quaint little town, speaking to a man who looked like a gypsy and was clearly not a native of Maine. She loved Point Pleasant already.
So they were brand new here. Part of Rost was tempted to warn them away, to encourage them to put this town in their rearview mirror before it got its claws into them. But he knew that wouldn’t work, and probably wouldn’t be taken well either. Point Pleasant kept the people it wanted to keep, and if something had drawn them here at arse o’clock in the morning, there wasn’t much to be done about it. “Wanderlust, at first,” Rost answered with a faint chuckle. “After, just ... the gravity of the place. It keeps you in orbit. I have lived here five years now.” He lifted his mug to take the first sip and hummed softly. “Where do you hail from?”
"California," Devlin replied with a botched Californian accent and a grin. He was curious now because someone didn't just live in an inn for five years... or did they? Sometimes he felt like he didn't understand but a fraction of everything that went on around him. "That's where I found her anyway, I'm from Ireland. How about you? Where'd you drift in from?" He wasn't having an easy time placing Rost's accent but there were a lot of countries that came to mind. The trick was not to mention any of them because if he got it wrong it could be insulting. People were weird that way.
Greer lifted her finger and waved it back and forth as she finished sipping her coffee. "Technically I'm from Nevada... well, born in Nevada. But Dev did find me in California. It was one of those things were the timing just worked out, because I was already thinking about moving after Ennis passed, but then Dev showed up next door one day and I found myself extending my lease." Greer studied Rost intently. "Please let me try to guess where you're from. I've heard that accent before..." She licked her lips, brows furrowed together before she tilted her head with a raised, curious brow. "Prague?"
Irish, he’d been right. Rost had spent a bit of time in Ireland, and while he couldn’t narrow Devlin’s accent down to an exact place, he didn’t sound like he was from the countryside. Rost smiled a little as Greer asked to guess his accent, then gave a pleased chuckle when she did. “Not where I was born, but the correct country,” he told her, smiling wider. It felt a little strange to do after so many awful, gray days, and Rost was thankful to them for the distraction at least. “Vsetín, originally, it is on the eastern side of Czech Republic. But I have lived many places. Including Ireland,” he added, looking at Devlin again with a small nod. “I am guessing you are from Dublin?”
Devlin thought he could feel Greer melt a little at the way Rost pronounced the name of his home town and he gave her a playful little wink before turning his attention back to Rost. "Spot on, brother," he said, impressed. "North Dublin, that's me. You're both very good at this game. Now I just wish we had more tourists here at breakfast to keep playing."
Greer had never traveled abroad, but she had met many people from around the world who found themselves in Los Angeles for one reason or another. The accents were always thrilling, if only because she wanted to know more about where they were from. She sipped her coffee and listened to Rost and Dev converse, unable to deny the pleasant warmth that pooled in her belly. Beautiful men with beautiful voices always got her heart racing a bit. "Oh," Greer said, shaking her head at Devlin. "No, no. Don't call us tourists. I don't like the image that presents. I prefer to think of it as... oh, the gravity of this place drew us here." She had liked how Rost explained his reasons for staying, and she didn't think he would mind her borrowing his words. Her eyes ticked to the window at the far end of the dining room where she could see the gray skies through the sheer white curtains. "It's a bit waterlogged, but I can feel its energy."
Rost had given Devlin a grin when he guessed right. He’d always had a pretty good ear for accents, with as much traveling around as he did. It was refreshing to talk to someone in Point Pleasant who sounded European. There weren’t many of them around. His gaze ticked to Greer’s face as she looked out the window, a little chuffed that she’d liked his phrasing. Some people never seemed to understand what he was saying to them, but these two felt like they were more on his level. Maybe that was just lonely wishful thinking, but the feeling was still there. His expression sobered up a little and he glanced between them again. “I feel I must warn you ... not all of that energy is good. It is often a dark and troubled place. The spirits here are restless. You must be cautious.”
"Well, we aren't tourists," Dev told Greer with a put upon air of superiority followed by a grin. Other people could be tourists but that wasn't them, they were wanderers. His smile faltered but a little at Rost's words and he nodded, sinking his teeth into his lip for a beat. "Oh we're aware," he murmured. "Bad history. Some very dark things. Old blood in the soil." There weren't a lot of places void of that energy, the human race had pretty much been awful throughout history, but some places had it worse than others and he had a feeling Point Pleasant was - despite all appearances - one of them.
Greer nodded along to what Dev was saying, although she didn't look worried. Aware, yes, but not worried. While she was caught up in the mystery of this place, and Ennis's journal, she knew better than to assume this would be a relaxing vacation. "It feels like the kind of place that would draw you in with its postcard scenery, and then keep you without you even realizing you've been kept. You said so yourself, that you've stayed in its orbit." Greer set her coffee cup down on the saucer cautiously. "You're not a permanent resident in his inn, are you?" Perhaps that was why Greer pegged him as feeling out of place, despite his self-confidence. This inn did not seem like the type of place he would chose to stay for a long amount of time.
Old blood in the soil was right. Old, powerful blood that had the means to carry a grudge, in Rost’s personal opinion. Not that anyone much listened to him. At least he felt that his words were being heard at this particular breakfast table. It was a nice change. He shook his head at Greer’s question, taking another sip from his mug. The way she summed up the town was rather perfect, he thought. “No, it is a temporary arrangement,” he said slowly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the details with strangers, no matter how comfortable their vibe was. “Ordinarily, I live at the cemetery. I keep the grounds.” Rost was proud that his voice sounded perfectly normal as he said it, like he could just go right back at any time. Back to his weird little life.
"That's a funny place to live," Dev said. "Where most things don't." There was something charming about it and his expression said as much, provided the place was actually a place of rest. "Someone's gotta watch over our dead. Maybe we'll come look around when the rain clears up.. Or before, if Greer can handle the chill." There was something a little romantic about cemeteries in the rain too and he grinned at his girl again, suspecting she felt the same way.
"That's fascinating," Greer said, staring at Rost as if he were some new species of man that she needed to examine and get to know better. She knew that if she wanted to go explore the cemetery, even in the rain, Dev would go with her. But Rost had said the spirits in town were restless, and he was here, rather than his home, albeit temporarily. There must be something happening, and maybe she and Devlin had come at the right time. Still, Greer's eyes widened as she reached out to grip Rost's wrist briefly.
"Do you know who the first was to be buried? It's bad luck, you know, to be the first burial in any cemetery. Their spirit is doomed to remain behind to guard the cemetery, while the other spirits move onto the next life. That's why so many cemeteries would bury an animal first, or sometimes a vagrant. Even so, what a lonely existence that must be, to be left behind for eternity." Greer sighed and stared ahead, her hands wrapped around her lukewarm coffee cup. Without another word, she stood from the table and carried her cup back to the coffee maker for a hot refill.
Someone’s gotta watch over our dead. It was absolutely true and Rost agreed completely, but it just hurt to hear. Because he hadn’t done a very good job of that, had he? Mrs. Mercer’s discolored, twisted face floated up to the top of Rost’s thoughts again. Greer distracted him with her comments and the touch, but it still made Rost wish that he’d brought a flask of something stronger to add to his coffee this morning. He watched the woman get up and walk back toward the coffee, then gave Devlin a faint smile. “It is an old boneyard,” he said. “I wish I did know who was first. But I believe it to be more complex than that.”
Devlin didn't often get that itch about people, to really know more about them. Sure he liked stories but right now he felt as if he might catch a glimpse of something just by looking at Rost. Something more than was visible to the eye. "There's something on your mind that's slipping out around your words. You don't know me from Adam but if you want talk... I will believe you." Was it a weird thing to say? Probably. Devlin had been accused of being odd many times throughout his life and he'd accepted the label with some pride by now. Rost looked troubled, his smile didn't reach his eyes and there was something weary about his demeanor, a weight there Dev felt compelled to know more about.
Rost leveled an assessing gaze at Devlin from Dublin. In general, he tended not to care who he said what to; he was aware of his reputation and didn’t give a shit about it, because he was right. He knew the truth of the world, and if some people couldn’t handle it, that was their business. Still, hearing that he would be believed struck a chord in him. That didn’t happen often. But he’d never been in this position before, where something deeply disturbing was happening in such close proximity to him. Dumping Mrs. Mercer’s body in front of his trailer had felt a little personal. It wasn’t a matter of not trusting these people, it was a hesitation to burden them or draw them into whatever might be happening. “You should know that is meaningful to me,” he told Devlin with a faint half-smile. “But it is not a story for the breakfast table.”
Greer returned to the table with her hot coffee and sat, her gaze shifting between Dev and Rost. "Then maybe you'll keep us company later, if you've got the time," Greer said. "I'm dying to see the rest of the town now that we're settled in, but it might be nice to talk to someone who has been here for awhile, who knows some of the town's history. Would you be willing to do that?" Greer thought that Rost seemed like the type who would be honest with she and Dev, rather than wax poetic about the pretty little town when it so clearly harbored some darkness. It didn't hurt that he was fascinating to talk to, and Greer wanted to learn just as much about him as she did Point Pleasant.
Dev made a near cheerful 'there you go' gesture at Greer's suggestion followed by a questioning look at Rost. It was a good idea, he had a good feeling about this man and honestly he seemed more on their level than most people. The world was to Dev still often divided into two distinct groups, the weirdos and the mundanes and while he knew that sometimes the mundanes were just hiding their freak flags he tended to gravitate to the people who wore their colors proudly.
It felt so strangely nice to be invited to spend time with anyone at all, Rost had to smile. It was crooked, but genuine. “I would love to,” he told them both. Honestly, now that he was sitting there with them, he didn’t really want to leave their company, so he hoped they would linger for a little while. “I have all the time in the world right now,” Rost admitted with a faint chuckle. He sipped some more of his coffee. “In the meantime ... tell me of your travels? What brings you here? If not tourism.”
Greer smiled, clearly pleased by Rost's willingness to humor them for awhile. However, she glanced at Dev when Rost asked what brought them to Point Pleasant, because it was his decision whether or not he wanted to be honest with Rost. He seemed like the kind of person who would believe them, but Ennis had been Dev's grandfather, and the journal might be a private thing. "I'm sure Dev would tell you otherwise, but we took an amazing trip on a Greyhound from Los Angeles. The things you see when you're on a journey across the country... the people we met? Some of them were incredible. They had these amazing stories of where they had come from and where they were going. It was liberating, really, even if the transportation itself wasn't the most comfortable. I think I drooled on his shoulder too much when I'd fall asleep," she added with a grin as she brought her coffee cup back up to her lips.
"Well, Rostislav," Dev said and clasped his hands together on the table. "As much as my lady here enjoys sitting on a bus for hours on end, that's not really why we're here." He wrinkled his nose at Greer, clearly not the same fan of the traveling as she was. "My grandpa had ties to this town and a special interest. We're on a wee bit of a mission really, looking for answers he never found, maybe looking for answers for ourselves too, something we may not even know we need right now." He unclasped because speaking without use of his hands for too long became unbearable. "You know how life's currents sometimes take you places and you can choose to fight them or you can choose to float wherever they're taking you? It's a bit like that. We're just two pieces of sexy driftwood surfing the waves of the universe."
Rost had done his share of traveling by bus, and he could relate to both of their sides. They were uncomfortable vehicles, but the people were always interesting, and he was good at striking up conversations when he wandered around the country. He could also relate to finding answers he didn’t know he needed. Dev’s assessment of the two of them drew a soft laugh out of Rost, and he bit his tongue on agreeing that they were indeed sexy driftwood. No need to go alienating people with flirting who might become new friends, right? “I do know how that works, yes,” he said instead, smiling between the both of them. “These are strange shores to wash up on, but I do hope you find what you are looking for. If I can be of assistance, please to let me know.” He finished off what was in his mug and glanced toward the table bearing the continental breakfast. “Do you mind if I eat?”
Greer laughed, lifting her hand to cover the sound. "I've told Dev he should be a poet. Only he could compare me to sexy driftwood and make it sound romantic." She gestured at Rost. "Please eat. We don't mind. I'll try not to ask you too many questions while your mouth is full." She quite liked Dev's answer to Rost's question. It was enough information without being terribly specific. Greer felt like they could trust Rost. Granted, they had just met, but she felt like she was a good judge of character, and so was Dev. Rost seemed genuine and he had lived in this town for five years, so Greer felt like he could be beneficial to the both of them. And maybe they could return the favor. "I think I might get some more toast, myself." She reached out to run her fingers along the nape of Dev's neck. "Do you want anything?" she asked him.
"A kiss," Dev replied, arching his neck a little at the gentle touch. "And a muffin, thanks love." He still had his coffee though it wasn't as hot as he liked it so a refill could wait. "And thank you Rost," he added. "I think it could be useful having an ally in town. The only name I have to go on was reportedly not a big fan of my grandpa nor talking about the things we're interested in so I doubt he'll be much help."
Having people to talk to, and the vague promise of some mystery to sink his teeth into did Rost more good than he could’ve explained to them. A small part of him wondered if this was some sweet dream he would wake up from soon, but the thought was thankfully fleeting. He felt a tiny bit wistful, seeing the way they interacted, that sweet touch, but it made him smile more than anything. Rost got up from his chair, nodding a bit to what Devlin said. “I will be happy to do what I can,” he said. Once Greer was ready to join him, he ambled toward the breakfast table and grabbed a plate to start filling it up.
It had been more than just chance that Rost had walked into the dining room when he had and he seemed more than happy to help them, or at least entertain their questions. He didn't appear to be there with anyone else, and while he seemed a bit down about his current circumstances, he didn't appear overly lonely. But in Greer's mind, he had to be, only because she couldn't go very long herself without some brand of companionship. Greer happily obliged Dev with his kiss as she stood and she nuzzled his cheek before joining Rost. She got a fresh plate, since one of the inn workers had taken theirs when they finished earlier, and she headed down the table to grab a muffin for Devlin and some toast for herself. "Do you believe in kismet?" Greer asked Rost as she piled the toast rather high on her plate beside Dev's muffin.
Since it was his first time through the line, Rost was taking a bit of everything to put onto his plate. He might not eat it all, since his appetite was generally lighter than most people suspected, but everything looked so good, he couldn't pass it by. He felt hungrier than he had in a few days, so that was something. Company could make such a difference. Rost looked over at Greer as she asked him a question, one brow lifting. Kismet ... he felt like he’d heard that word before in his life, but the definition wasn’t coming to him. “Perhaps ... but I do not know this word,” he admitted sheepishly.
"Kismet," Greer replied with a smile as she took another piece of toast and set it on top of the pile. "It means destiny. Fate. I only believe in it when I'm in the mood for something so fanciful, but I believed in it this morning, when you walked into the room." She paused and then laughed once. "That sounds like a horribly cheesy pick up line. But, you know, it's true. It was fate when I moved in next door to Dev's Papa Morrow, because it brought me Ennis for a little while, and then Dev. And Dev brought me here, for reasons we haven't figured out yet, but then here you are." She motioned at him with a jam packet she had picked up next. "It feels right. Like you're a piece of our puzzle. Kismet."
“Kismet,” Rost echoed softly, through the stupid grin that had taken over his face. It may have been intrusive to someone else, too much familiarity too fast or something, but he’d always been the type to bond quickly with people ... and then hold tight to them. Besides, everything Greer was saying? Well, he felt it too. Destiny, fate. Kismet. “Yes,” he agreed, giving Greer another glance that was almost shy around the edges. “I do believe in this. It has struck in my life as well too many times to not believe.” Now, whether he was actually a part of their puzzle? Rost didn’t know, but it felt delightful to entertain the idea. With a full plate now, he walked with Greer back toward the table and Devlin.
"It's weird being awake at this hour," Dev murmured when Greer and Rost joined him again. "I am not a morning person," he added to Rost as Greer was well aware. "Mornings feel a little disorienting, almost like waking up in a different world. Things even taste different." He sipped his coffee as if to demonstrate and curiously looked around them. "What about you? Are you usually a morning person?"
Rost settled into his chair again and picked up a fork, flashing Dev a little grin. “I rarely see the morning, so I suppose not,” he answered. “At least not morning with the sun up.” It had just been difficult to sleep as solidly as he usually did lately. But that wasn’t a subject he wanted to dwell on at the moment, as he’d said. He glanced over at Greer, still smirking a touch. “Is she?” he asked Devlin. “Up at dawn, your cheerful opposite?”
"I'm awake at reasonable hours," Greer said with a smile. She tore off a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth. "And I'm not always cheerful. I like to sleep in from time to time, but I like to get up with the sun if I can. I'm usually careful not to wake the bear," she added, grinning at Dev. "He's humoring me this morning. I wanted to try the homecooked breakfast after such a long journey on a Greyhound."
"Eh, my hours are all out of whack," Dev said and tittered. "This bear's circadian rhythm got seriously skewed by long hours on the train and then bus. I'm only this chirpy 'cause I'm not sure I fully understand how early it is." He picked a small piece out of his muffin and plopped it in his mouth. "Truth be told I like eating breakfast just before sleepy times but fortunately I don't need much sleep or I'd probably never see this morning bird."
Rost could relate to out-of-whack hours. His own were all over the map sometimes. That was what depression and too much alcohol sometimes did to a person. He was secretly pleased that Greer had gotten Devlin up to have breakfast this particular morning, the same one he’d woken up early -- more of that kismet, he supposed. He liked to watch the two of them talk to each other though, something about it reminded him so bittersweetly of Delle. Rost ate some food, the warmth of it joining the caffeine from his coffee to make him feel a little better, more alive and awake. “This weather does not help,” he said, nodding toward one of the windows in the room. “Always makes me want to sleep all day long.”
"Melatonin," Greer said, waving a piece of toast at Rost before she took another bite. "You know it’s reliant on light, so when you have days like this." She waved at the window with her other hand. "You produce more melatonin, which makes you want to sleep. And then your serotonin supply is also underproduced, because it needs sunlight too. So...rainy days equal sleepy and depressed. You probably already know that. I'm rambling." She swallowed her piece of food and reached for her coffee. "What do you do on rainy days?" Greer asked Rost. "Or, well, what do you do on sunny days as well? What do you do? Besides work. For fun."
Rost raised an eyebrow at that very scientific explanation, and couldn’t help but grin a little. So Greer was intelligent and educated as well as beautiful. That was a lovely sign, wasn’t it? He actually hadn’t known any of that, at least not that specific of information, so it was nice to hear that there were legitimate reasons behind what he felt. At the questions, Rost made a vague gesture with his fork as he chewed and swallowed his current bite. “I read quite a bit,” he answered, giving a vague nod. “I play music. Build things out of scrap. Commune with nature. Visit with friends on occasion ...” Rost shrugged a little helplessly. His life was simple and probably boring, in spite of appearances. “Mostly I work. Keep watch over the dead. I try to protect the grounds, but it is not always easy.”
These all sounded like good things and Devlin was intrigued by the creative one, building things out of scrap. "An artist?" he queried with obvious interest. It didn't even matter if it was good technically, art was such a raw expression of emotions and dreams, it was always fascinating to Dev, even if he didn't like it - maybe eve especially when he didn't like it. It was also a good release and he often found that bad visions that tended to stubbornly cling to him were more easily dismissed if he just painted it away.
Greer smiled, already wanting to see what it was that Rost created. She wanted to see where he lived and if it fit the image she had already concocted in her head. Rost sounded like a creative person, but she had already know that when she took a look at his palm. Even so, it was lovely to hear they all shared some interests, and she knew Dev would be interested in Rost's artistry. So she ate her toast and watched Rost intently. There was so much to learn about the man, and she was eager to do so. Greer loved getting to know the people who triggered her interest and she hoped that he would be willing to entertain their questions without getting too overwhelmed or annoyed, as some people did.
Their attention was so rapt and seemed to be genuinely interested, Rost wasn’t really sure what to do with it. He was used to being something of a novelty around town -- the weird gypsy man who lived in the graveyard and talked too much about strange things in a funny accent. But not many people really cared about him or what he thought about anything. Not enough to ask him questions, anyway. Just some of the kids who bought weed from him. And Naomi. That thought gave him a pang, but he tried to ignore it. “I do not know if I would say that,” he told Dev with a sheepish little grin. “I like to weld, build strange things sometimes. If that is art ...” Rost trailed off and shrugged. “I am more musically inclined. What about you two?”
Dev beamed at him at the mention of music and he wondered what instrument - or instruments - Rost played. Maybe they'd get to know him well enough to find out by experience and he was really beginning to hope so. "Well, as I like to say, all expression is good expression even when it's terrible. I like to draw and paint, that's easier to do on the road than welding." He narrowed one eye almost to the point of a wink and grinned at the thought of trying to make any kind of a sculpture on a bus or train. Sketching was far easier, as was knitting which was more Greer's thing. She didn't see it as much of an art but Dev did, it was creative and beautiful, how could it not be art?
"Art is subjective, isn't it?" Greer asked after washing a piece of toast down with her coffee. "Dev is a wonderful artist. I feel like this town will inspire him. Do you sing?" she asked Rost. She was finally finished with her breakfast, so she pushed the plate away and folded her arms on the table. "I like to sing, but it's not terribly pleasing to the listening ears around me. The closest I've come to playing an instrument is strumming a harp that belonged to my neighbor in one of my first apartments in L.A. But I love to listen and dance when I can. You look like you have a lovely singing voice."
Rost had always been a bit envious of visual artists -- he could lump some scrap metal together into interesting shapes, but those who drew or painted things seemed to have some magic to them, bringing their thoughts and dreams to life and everything. He smiled at the other man and then over at Greer as she spoke, then gave a chuckle at the compliment. He already wanted to see her dance, and it was only partially a pervy desire. “Thank you ... I do sing. I will leave it up to you for how lovely it is or not,” he said, grinning crookedly again. He didn’t think of much about himself as ‘lovely,’ but his voice didn’t scare away animals or anything, and he always sang with soul. “If you ever desire to listen to any sad folk ballads, you now know who to call.”
"That calls for exchanging numbers," Dev informed him happily, already tugging his phone out of his pocket, ready to put the number in. He was already picturing a nice night of campfire, homemade music and Greer dancing. "You know, we should celebrate tonight. It is Mabon after all, we should be decorating your cemetery with marigolds and acorns, getting drunk and celebrating the equinox." He flashed Rost a grin and then the same at Greer. "What do you say?"
Greer was a fan of unconventional voices and she hoped that Rost had one. She had obviously not known him very long, but she could already guess that he put a lot of feeling into his music. Greer flashed a smile at Dev as she put her coffee cup back down onto the table. She loved how he so effortlessly took hold of every opportunity that was presented to them. She wanted Rost's number as well, although she assumed this was a small enough town that they could find him either way. Her smile dipped a touch at the mention of the cemetery. "But he's here," she pointed out to Dev. "Which implies that he can't return home at the moment. Is that right?" she asked Rost. "Don't get me wrong, I feel as though we can get drunk anywhere, but something's happened that is keeping you from your home at the moment."
Rost could never remember the cell phone’s number off the top of his head, so he pulled the little thing out of his pocket as well. He wouldn’t even have one if it weren’t for the cemetery, and the way the phone flipped open showed how old it was. He finished off the last of his breakfast as he read the number to Devlin, then set the bothersome plastic down. “That is correct,” he confirmed, nodding at Greer. “The cemetery is currently closed to visitors. And me. Any celebrating we do will have to be elsewhere. What is Mabon?” Rost was pretty sure he’d heard that word before, floating around the pagan people he’d known throughout the years, but he couldn’t remember what kind of holiday it was. Getting drunk with these people at the inn sounded pretty nice though, especially with all the rain.
"Depends on who you ask," Dev replied, latching onto the last thing Rost said. "Autumn equinox, celebrating the green man, celebrating Mea'n Fo'mhair. It can be a religious experience or just a really good excuse to get drunk in a more festive manner than usual." With that explanation taken care of and Rost's number in his phone he leaned forward. "Something happened to the cemetery?" He had guessed something had happened to Rost's home, burst pipe or something, but the whole cemetery was closed and that was by far stranger.
Rost was all for getting drunk in festive manners. And non-festive. Really, any excuse. He wondered briefly if these two smoked pot as well, and if they would join him if he offered. Getting stoned with Neil had been nice enough, but he was of a completely different vibe than these two. He had a feeling he couldn’t stay quiet and sad for long, intoxicated with Dev and Greer. “A series of bad things have happened,” he said, his expression turning grave as he glanced between them. At least nobody was eating anymore. “Some robberies. Desecrations. A sad state of affairs I have not been able to stop.”
That was quite surprising and Greer's brows lifted sharply as she glanced at Dev. They had already known there was something about Point Pleasant luring them there, well beyond Ennis's journal, but grave desecrations? That was the mark of evil, if you asked Greer. "That's just terrible," she murmured, reaching over to touch Rost's arm in comfort. "Do you have any idea who might be behind it?" Greer would have asked about the police, but she had never put a lot of stock into authority figures, especially those with guns. They were useless, if you asked her and she had never had a good experience with them.
In Dev's opinion someone who desecrated graves was either very stupid or smart in ways that were very unsettling. Either way that someone was malicious and the look on his face said as much as he frowned with obvious disgust. "I'm sorry to hear that, brother," he muttered and he doubted Rost knew who was behind it. Someone with ill intent, but was it a self serving deed or a purely malicious one? There were very strange things in the world and Devlin had seen some of them first hand. Grave desecration was one of the things he never understood. It was a sure way to bring a whole heap of bad karma onto oneself.
The gentle hand on his arm was appreciated, and Rost felt bold enough to reach over and cover Greer’s hand with his own, briefly. He nodded at Devlin’s sympathy, then shook his head. “No idea,” he answered Greer’s question, and heaved a sigh. Part of him wanted to go into more detail, to get some real sympathy from people who might understand how it felt to see Mrs. Mercer tossed so callously on the ground in front of his home. But that was self indulgent, and it was probably best not to re-live it at the moment. “Thank you though. I hope they are caught soon. This is nice --” he made a vague gesture at the inn around them, and smiled a bit sheepishly. “But it is not home.”
"No, it's not," Greer agreed with a small smile. The inn itself had a strange feeling about it, and she quite liked Point Pleasant so far, but it wasn't home. She wondered if it would start to feel that way the longer they stayed. "But maybe you'll let us distract you for a bit. We'll buy some drinks, celebrate Mabon and get to know each other better. That is, if you're willing," Greer said to Rost. She and Dev had plenty of time to explore the town. She was just eager to learn more about Rost, and see what stories he could tell them about himself, and Point Pleasant itself.
"If you'd rather not then know we don't offend easy like," Dev said solemnly before breaking out a sunny grin. "But you'd be missing out, we're great company when we're drunk, aren't we Greer? Maybe we can take your mind off your worries for a spell." It was a fantastic idea of course and Dev loved how effortlessly Greer got to know people in new locations. She had that effect on him too, making him feel more open and easy going than he did when he was on his own.
“Of that I have no doubt,” Rost said with a chuckle. They seemed like they would be great company drunk or stoned ... hell, they were great company just for breakfast. “I am more than willing, I would love to. Later tonight, or ... ? I have nothing against day drinking, but if we start now, I feel a nap will be imminent.” His tone was light and he was smiling, but it was probably a real concern -- Rost’s sleep had been shit since all of this started happening, and he was tired. However, he had a feeling these two lovely people could keep him awake by various means, some of which weren’t polite to think about strangers.
"We're great company regardless of sobriety," Greer corrected with a smile. "But maybe in a few hours. That will give us time to get into town and buy the proper necessities. I think you'll definitely need a nap," she told Rost, "because we tend to make merry well into the early hours of the morning once we start." That much was true, at least and Greer had never been one who needed a lot of sleep to get through the day. She was mindful of those who did, however.
"I'll need a nap," Dev said with a little titter. "I'm out of my rhythm right now, traveling and time zones have mixed me all up in the noggin." He stretched as he spoke, wiggling his fingers above his head then pointed jovially at Rost. "But come evening we'll ply you with alcohol and see about getting to know each other better, yeah?"
Sleeping for a while and then hanging out drinking with good people sounded like exactly the kind of balm that Rost sorely needed. They were already fun to talk to, and he could only imagine that wouldn’t change once they were all buzzed and relaxed together. He smiled at the both of them. “It sounds perfect to me,” he said. “I am in room four, feel free to come and get me whenever.” He started gathering his dishes up to turn in -- the inn had someone to bus tables, but by now Rost knew where the tub for dirty dishes was and he’d never been much for letting other people clean up after him -- and then stood. “Enjoy exploring, it is a beautiful town. I will leave you to it.” He could’ve offered to give them a personal tour, but it was so fucking dreary out and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome with them so soon.
Greer had always been of the mind to take things as they came and never plan too much. She hated feeling restricted to the point where she couldn't change her mind on a whim. But there were certainly exceptions, and Rost was one of them. She and Dev would do whatever they wanted today - they weren't on a deadline, after all, and she looked forward to coming back for the evening and drinking with a new friend. Greer imagined Rost had plenty of fascinating stories to tell and alcohol always loosened the lips. "Thanks, Rost," Greer said with a smile. "Enjoy your nap." Dev could have one too, in a bit when she was done with him at least.