Mircea Nicolau (caulfieldish) wrote in summerview, @ 2018-11-05 12:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | mircea nicolau, player: lyddia, zgraham haldar |
Whatever gets you through the night It's all right, it's all right
Who: Mircea & Graham
What: Discussing possible festivities
Where: Books & Bins
When: Backdated to the week before Halloween
Status: Complete
Was Halloween a “thing” again? Mircea couldn’t keep track sometimes. Last he checked Halloween was one of those human things where they pretended to be the very things they hated in this big show of hypocrisy, while he and everything else humanity had deemed creepy, dangerous, evil, or just plain misunderstood were relegated to secret hidey holes like Summerview. Not that he was complaining or anything. He’d spent a lot of the last 500 years trying to help various groups of humans overthrow their abusive governments in favor of equality. So maybe that was why the thought of some asshole somewhere who public decried all things strange and unusual 364 days a year dressed as a vampire for one night made his skin prickle with annoyance.
But that's none of his business.
Still, there seemed to be some kind of festive magic in the air lately, so it probably would be to his benefit to get in the spirit. Or something. He had only half formed an idea on the way to Books & Bins, and was still chewing on it when he burst into the back office to find just the person--er, vampire--he needed to see in order to decide whether this idea was either very good, or terrible.
He threw his jacket down on his desk chair before switching on his computer. While he was waiting for it to warm up, he swiveled around in his chair to face his accountant with a contemplative look on his face. “What do you think about a book sale? You know, for Halloween?” He asked, without even bothering with pleasantries. Graham probably wouldn’t mind.
Graham looked up, olive eyes lifted from where he was crunching numbers - he'd mastered Excel spreadsheet formulas in a way that surely any nerd would envy, and this meant he was often staring at a computer screen for hours. But what did it matter? This time of night, only other nocturnal monsters prowled around outside beneath a blanket of darkness peppered with stars - it was like everything came to a standstill, to allow him time to get things done and more.
Also, Halloween. It was vile - he wasn't a fan and never would be.
"I will never understand how humans managed to turn what was once some kind of harvest festival into pumpkin spice laundry detergent and treats that tastes like vomit." Because really, what in all the name of the gods was candy corn anyway? Besides revolting.
Humans - they were such interesting creatures. They were bruised, they were messy. They weren’t perfect, instead asymmetrical - and their value was not in how they looked or their scent. Rather, it was that they had a soul, and he tried to remember.
It was easy to forget sometimes.
"And honestly, not even a hello? How can someone so good-looking be so terribly rude?" He was teasing, in his dry sort of way. "But alright, a book sale. Spooktacular classics, and will there be carved pumpkins too?"
“Hello,” Mircea said flatly, rolling his eyes, though he was betrayed by his own mouth as it twitched into a slight grin. He kept some comment about how back in his day people didn’t have time to say hello or goodbye because they were too busy trying to stay alive, because Graham had definitely heard that one before. “Personally, I’m a fan of fun sized candy bars, but it doesn’t have to be Halloween for that.”
He paused for a second, still processing that whole diatribe on Halloween--which he was in complete agreement on, by the way--and then added, “Do they really make pumpkin spice laundry detergent? Because that actually sounds kind of nice. Smelling like pie all day? Who doesn’t want that?” He was certainly going to be judged hard for that one, but he didn’t really care.
“Anyway,” he continued, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in the chair, “I was thinking spell books, but if we slap a sale sticker on some copies of Frankenstein or The Shining that might be a little more inclusive.” Not everyone on the island was a witch, obviously. “Do we need pumpkins? I guess we can have pumpkins… Whatever happened to carving a turnip? Turnips are way scarier vegetables, if you ask me.”
Let’s not get distracted, Mircea, especially by something so banal as pumpkin spice laundry detergent which, Graham was certain, happened to actually be ‘a thing.’ He chuckled warmly, rubbing his eyes since he’d been focused in his laser-sighted way for far too long - however, he almost had these balance sheets done and he wouldn’t have to worry about them again for awhile. Ah, how he loved the fresh scent of numbers in the morning - or late night, that too.
“Who bloody well carves a turnip for Halloween?” he asked rhetorically, though he knew the answer. “The Irish are a strange lot. Though I suppose you’re right, they look infinity scarier when they’ve got a face.”
Ugh. But perhaps there was something to that? “Maybe we could bring it back,” he smirked. “Even if the idea is to lure customers, not frighten them away. Spell books would be good as well. Ought to take advantage of the holiday that gets everyone all titillated, though it doesn’t quite do it for me, obviously.”
Mircea was easily distracted sometimes. Especially when someone put a coin in him. Thankfully this was not one of those times, and he was easily steered back to the task at hand. He shrugged. “I guess you’ve got to work with what’s available. Pumpkins are a New World food, you know. And tomatoes, for that matter. Italian food was completely tomato free until after Columbus. But they’d also make a piss poor jack-o-lantern.” But that was neither here nor there. “Personally, turnips already look scary enough without a face carved into them.” They already had a bit of a shrunken head look to them.
“Bring back a little old world charm? Might be kind of fun, right? What’s the hashtag the kids use? Throwback Thursday? Except Halloween is a Wednesday so that doesn’t exactly work.” He clicked his teeth thoughtfully. “There’s got to be plenty of us on this island who remember the good old haunted turnip days. We can provide an assortment of scary vegetables?” Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad. It would be kind of amusing to have a bunch of Summerview spooks carving their own jack-o-lanterns usually meant to scare their kind away. The irony was amusing. “Anything to bring in more customers can’t hurt, right?”
“An assortment of scary vegetables,” Graham repeated, opening up another Excel spreadsheet, a fresh one - give him a minute and he’d have a list of all planned Halloween-themed accoutrements and the costs. Literally, a minute. “Books and vegetable decorations, maybe a ritualistic sacrifice...”
Kidding. He was just kidding.
“I also think if we give out candy, or some other freebie, they ought to do a trick before they receive it - only fair, right?” And oh, he could just imagine some of the tricks that could be shown off by an island of supernatural creatures. “Don’t worry, I’m jotting all this down - I know if I don’t, you’ll forget a moment later.” That was said fondly, but there was a reason Graham handled the books around here.
Mircea laughed and shook his head. “You know me too well.” Because he would absolutely forget what they were talking about in 2.5 seconds if Graham wasn't taking notes. Plus he’d never manage to pull this off on his own.
“See, this is why I hired you. Full of good ideas. Although, I’ll leave the ritual sacrifices to the witches.” Joking or not, someone was bound to take that seriously. And blood didn’t come out of books so well. He would know. “Make sure we use the good candy, or those tricks will get turned on us.”
“True enough,” Graham concurred - and really, he was no Scrooge (most of the time). He didn’t want to be known as that person who gave out terrible Halloween ‘candy’ like a single roll of stale Smarties or even something as awful as oatmeal packets when the neighbors passed out giant chocolate bars. “Let me factor that into the costs. The good candy.”
Yes, he was an ever-so-dutiful idea giver. He liked working at Books & Bins though; it was especially lucky his own kind (vampiric in nature, that is) owned the place - their late, late working hours didn’t appear odd. Besides, whenever he felt old he just had to remind himself that Micrea was much older. Ha.
“How have you been otherwise?” he asked. “Staying out of trouble?”
“Let me know what the damage is,” Mircea said off handedly. The numbers wouldn’t really mean that much to him. The bookstore was less about making money as it was about having something to do. That and providing a little bit of culture.. And all the other little corner-store type things your average being might need on any given day.
“Trouble? Me?” He pointed to himself, eyebrows raised. “Never.” Alright so maybe he did get into trouble now and then. Or at least, he used to. It was that big mouth of his. “I could ask you the same thing.”
It was always important for vampires, or any other creature cursed with eternal life, to find things to do. Numbers were like that for Graham - they kept him busy. Having a 9-5 sort of job did, in a town that was sort of sequestered from the rest of the world. He did need something to do besides observe the way the island grew and changed, fluctuated as their barrier held steady. For now.
“Little trouble to be found here, my friend,” he chuckled good-naturedly. “We ought to find some. You don’t drink from blood bags, or do you?” Graham asked. It was a bit lonely going for a meal on his own sometimes - he would do it, of course, just as he’d go to restaurants alone with a good book. But that was all frivolous, for ‘fun’ - he couldn’t crack open a copy of War and Peace while drinking from the vein.
“I think there’s some kind of fight club in the woods, based on the scene I stumbled on a few days ago,” he volunteered, though honestly he wasn’t even sure how true that was. “If you’re looking for some trouble to get into.” Even if there wasn’t a fight club--and really the only thing that made him think so was the fact that he’d encountered Briar in the middle of the woods after midnight one night in a sort of bruised and bloodied state--there was probably a lot going on in the middle of the forest that he didn’t know about. Mostly because he was usually working in the middle of the night when all the good stuff went down.
Mircea shrugged. “My three favorite inventions are as follows: the printing press, the iPhone, and neatly packaged blood.” And what an invention that had been. “I might have been born in a barn, but I prefer not to make a giant mess when I’m eating. I know that puts me in the minority.” As far as vampires went, he was often in the minority.
“How barbaric,” Graham stated, regarding fight club - not really his thing, but he supposed he could see how other people would find it...interesting. He might take a hard pass, however. “Mircea, I refuse to believe you’re a thousand years old - “ Not quite, but close enough? He was certainly the oldest vampire Graham knew, and that was a badge of honor, “...and still haven’t figured out how to not make a mess while eating.”
Honestly. Someone as prim and proper as Graham? Let’s just say that he hated to ruin perfectly fine clothes, because bloodstains were awful to get out. “Next time I grab a meal, want to come with?” he invited. “It’s rather exhilarating.”
It was true. A packaged meal was convenient, but it didn’t exactly appease the monster within - those instincts, to hunt and feed and kill, were instilled deeply within vampires. Trying to suppress them, when you were a predator, could often be a dangerous gamble.
Mircea snorted. “A thousand?” He knew he was pretty ancient, but he hoped no one actually thought he was that old. At least he still had his youthful good looks, or else he’d really be in trouble. “I’m only five hundred seventy, Graham, geeze!” A thousand. Yikes. “Alright, yeah most of the time, but people are squirmy. I never figured out the whole…” He waved a hand in front of his face. “Hypnotic thing. Honestly, you’ve met me, does that surprise you? It’s not like I’m particularly charming.” Truth.
He sighed. He supposed after ten years it was probably inevitable he’d be invited to such an outing. And really, he probably shouldn’t say no to a meal with a friend, right? “If you say so.” He hadn’t even liked to kill chickens as a kid, so… Exhilarating for Mircea was overthrowing a government, not sucking some poor mortal dry. But to each their own. “But yeah, sure, whatever.”
Count Graham in for overthrowing a government too (why not? It’d pep up a slow day) but in the meantime, dinner out sounded grand. “Oh, I find you plenty charming,” he smiled crookedly - was he being sarcastic? Heavens, no. Mircea was charming in that grumpy old man sort of way. A way Graham could relate to, since he wasn’t particularly receptive to the sorts of peppy charm that just ended up giving him a headache.
“I’ll take ‘yeah, sure, whatever’ as agreement and that you’re looking forward to the excursion.” He saved the Excel spreadsheets he’d been working on and emailed copies of each to the grumpy bookstore owner right next to him - planning Halloween celebrations, such fun. “Alright, the diner’s still open so I’m off to grab a coffee and then come back - do you want anything while I’m out?” he asked.
He wasn’t an errand boy but he was polite, and of course he’d offer for a friend.
“You have a very strange definition of charming, if that’s the case,” Mircea said, eyebrows raised. He turned to his now warmed up computer and opened his e-mail in preparation for the onslaught of planning spreadsheets he was about to receive.
He let out a snort of laughter at that. “Take it however you like.” It certainly was not his cup of tea, and he did not plan on enjoying himself, but then he didn’t always have the luxury of hanging out with other vampires until he came to Summerview, especially considering the trouble he tended to like to get into was the sort of thing most respectable vampires avoided. Maybe it would be good for him? And anyway, speaking of tea. “If you’re offering, I’ll take an Earl Grey, thanks. I could probably make it myself, but the diner’s is usually better.”
“That it is,” Graham concurred. “Alright, Earl Grey. Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone.” A joke, mainly - if either of them were going to find the aforementioned trouble, wasn’t it always best together? Aw.
Then he was off, but at least planning ‘dinner out’ (when you were a vampire, it held a different sort of meaning) gave him something extra to do. And who knew? Perhaps it really would be good for the both of them.