Zania Castell (brokendoll) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-04-10 22:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | 03-24-2017, riley, riley and zania, zania |
Ghosts at the Window
Who: Riley and Zan
Where: Cattle Ranch
When: Early Afternoon
Riley tossed open the back door leading into the kitchen, wiping his boots dutifully on the mat just inside because he knew he’d hear hell from his housekeeper if he tracked dirt across the hardwood. He doffed the hat from his head and hurled it, as he had every day since becoming the owner of this ranch, toward the hook beside the door where it settled perfectly alongside the tan calfskin jacket he wore in the cool hours of the morning.
It was lunchtime and he could smell that his favorite vegetarian lasagna had been baking just prior to him returning from the fence check. He let out a loud sigh and stretched languidly before suddenly realizing there was a pair of eyes watching him that didn’t belong to anyone in his household.
“Zan!” he said with surprised amusement. She was settled at the bar facing the kitchen where Riley assumed his housekeeper had installed her to wait for his arrival. He walked to her and held out a hand to shake. “What brings you here?”
“Hey Riley,” Zania grinned, shaking his hand. She’d been waiting for him to come in, though not for long. If she’d had any notion that he wouldn’t be in for lunch, she would have just wandered out onto the ranch, even if that wasn’t the best place for her. “I have a small project that I was hoping you might be able to help me with.” Of her two projects, this was the small one. The big one was the club, and she was still working on getting a space for that. “I used to play the drums, and I was thinking I’d like to make a drum set. It’s just leather stretched over wood, right? Is that something we could do?”
Riley had met Zan previously over a BLT and some kind of not so great coffee at the diner. Whether the coffee was always that way wasn't something he knew, but it hadn't been to his taste. What had been was the conversation. Zan was colorful in more ways than one and he had enjoyed listening to her and being listened to in return. It was a good experience, one that resonated positively for him whenever he passed the diner. He always recommended people ask for her if they mentioned they were going in there. So he was more than okay with her visiting him and asking help on a project. Gave him an excuse to talk more with her.
"Leather over wood. I like it already. I think we could definitely do it though drying the leather and curing it for drums might take a little research and time. You okay with that?"
“Yeah! I mean, we have time, right?” she grinned. Riley was one of her favorite customers at the diner, one of the ones who kept her entertained while she was at work. The day passed faster when she had good people to talk to, and he’d never once complained about the coffee... which she’d only recently realized she was burning. Zania was new to working in the kitchen and had a lot to learn. So far, only her pies were worth eating, but she’d managed to fix her beverage issues. “I know it’ll take a little research, and probably some trial and error. But if you’re okay with me paying you in pies, then I figure we can come to some sort of deal.”
"Paying me with pies?" Riley asked, and he stroked an imaginary beard as he pretended to think. When really this sounded like an adventure he'd enjoy going on. So far he'd not done anything very interesting in his life. Sure, going to war and taking on the Zs had been action-packed, but he wouldn't say he had any interest in it. Or the ranching though he did feel contented by it because it both made him productive and reminded him of home.
"Yeah, I think I can deal with that. Do you need me to clear a shed for a workspace? I think I have an outlying one near the road that might work and be pretty easy for you to get to rather than coming to the house. Oh, not that I mind that either."
“Awesome!” she said with a little bounce. “You’ll have to let me know what your favorite is. I make apple, cherry, blueberry cobbler, blackberry cobbler, and I’m experimenting with what I can do with strawberries, though I have less of them than the rest.” Strawberries were such a small plant, with so few berries per plant at one time. “What would be easiest for you? You’re the one doing me a favor. I think the shed might work better, so your housekeeper doesn’t have to step over stuff, though. What’d you think?” Since she’d already stated her opinion on the matter.
Riley lifted his brows but he was thinking. He’d sampled at least half of her pies in his forays to the diner so he knew that what she could bake was delicious. It was more a matter of picking instead of saying yes to all of it. Although. “I think that if you bring me a pie at least once a week, whatever you choose, it would be perfect.” Because what man in his right mind would ask for more? Especially when they knew her pies were so tasty. He only wished he could find out what she would do with coconut.
“And the shed it is. Now, are you looking for tough leather or tender? I don’t know much about drums but you could probably give a best guess, right?”
Zania would have loved to get her hands on some coconut, but she wasn’t sure there were coconuts growing in the dome. If she could track one down and start growing them? How great would that be? She was all kinds of entrepreneurial lately, though on the oddest things. “That’s a deal,” she smiled. A pie a week was easy to manage, especially since she loved baking.
“I’m going to take a guess and say tender, but only because it needs to be stretched out over the barrel. The size of the cylinder and the tightness of the leather are what create the sound,” she said, though she wasn’t speaking as an expert. She knew how to play them, but not how to make them. It had never occurred to her that she might have to.
Riley’s mind momentarily drifted toward the anticipated enjoyment of Zan’s pies on a regular basis. He nodded with an appreciative smile and leaned over the counter toward her in a casual way. “I can do tender. When I do up the meat for sale, I can strip some of the leather easily to test because it doesn’t go with the meat shipment. And I’ll be curious to see what we can do. Especially if we get drums out of it in the long-run.”
He paused in his thoughts to breathe in again the smell of the veggie lasagna. “You up for some lunch? I’m starving but I don’t want to eat in front of you without offering some first.”
“Thank you so much,” Zania smiled. The trip had already been worth it. She’d been prepared to talk him into it, if need be, but it hadn’t come to that at all. Riley was so pleasant and agreeable that she’d only had to ask him. “Sure! I have some time before I need to go into work, and I can’t even begin to make lasagna.” That was Nic’s department. She was glad at least one of them could cook real meals.
He knew it was a little strange for a cattle rancher to like vegetarian food best, but it had nothing to do with meat. He loved his steaks too. But there was something about vegetarian food that tasted so good. He raised a brow at her and nodded. “Two plates coming up. And we can discuss some more logistics if you like.”
He moved around the kitchen with ease as it was most definitely his and, even though he couldn’t cook himself, he enjoyed hosting. Enjoyed feeding people with food and good times. He pulled the pan of food from the oven and deftly served squares of cheesy, veggie goodness onto two plates. “Do you have an idea of where to get the wood in the shape you need?” he asked, pulling silverware out of a drawer and joining her on a stool at the bar.
Zania would have preferred meat lasagna herself, but she wasn’t going to turn down food that was being offered to her. It just wasn’t polite. “No, but I’m sure I can talk to someone down at the lumber yard. They might have an idea. Otherwise it might make more sense to use a kind of metal. Anything cylindrical should work.” She didn’t know how it would sound, but that was something she could always tweak. Sitting at the bar, Zania’s eyes drifted out the window. When she blinked, a figure stood on the outside, staring in at her. Zania shivered, then shifted her attention back towards Riley. “Do you have any ideas?”
Riley was pleased that she had stayed. It wasn't always fun to eat alone, which seemed to be his lot in life some days. Though today it was strange because he should've had a few ranch hands at the table too, but none of them had shown up. She glanced out the window just as he did, though with the expectation that he might see some of his workers coming in.
"Hey, you know, you should talk to a guy named Wynn. He's a lumberjack and he might have an in with the woodwork down at the lumber yard."
“Oh, thanks,” she said, trying not to be freaked out by the image she was seeing out of the corner of her eye. Everytime she blinked it was there, but then it faded a second later. “I knew I could head down there, but I didn’t have a name or anything.” She’d been more confident about the leather part, having at least met Riley. “Hey... you don’t see anything outside, do you?” she asked, gesturing towards the window.
Riley blushed as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing when she asked him if he saw something outside. He knew he hadn’t been paying her full attention even as he forked tender pasta and creamy veggie goodness into his mouth because he was concerned that no one else had come back from the fields for lunch. “Uh, nope, can’t say as I have, mate. Sorry about that. But definitely talk to Wynn, he’ll help you out, I’m sure. Or he’ll know someone who can.” He watched her face a moment and his brow furrowed. “Do you see something outside?”
Zania was trying to focus on the pasta, which looked delicious, even if it was vegetarian. But since he was asking, she slowly looked towards the window, seeing nothing... until she blinked again. Then it was there, a woman, ghostly white, her eyes wide and her mouth open and moving. A chill ran up her spine and Zania took a shaky breath. “Maybe,” she said, then swallowed hard. This had been happening since yesterday, but now it lasted longer. Now it was impossible to deny what she was seeing. “I kind of see a woman. Outside the window. You don’t see her?”
A woman? That was odd enough that Riley looked out the window again. The only woman on the property was his housekeeper and she wouldn’t simply stand outside a window and creep out a guest. He shook his head, seeing nothing like that, and gazed over to Zan with concern. “No, I don’t see a woman out there. What does she look like?” He wasn’t going to rule out the fact that maybe she could see something he couldn’t. If she could, he really, really hoped it wasn’t a Z on the loose. Because that would so ruin his day.
Of course he didn’t. She’d already confirmed this with Nic, who’d told her no one was wandering around outside their house. This was a different woman, but that didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it was almost worse. “She has long, dark hair and a light colored dress. Maybe it was pink, or yellow. She’s... upset,” Zania said, then shook her head as if to shake away the image. “You’re right. She’s not there. I’ve just been seeing things.”
Riley stopped eating, his fork between his mouth and the plate. He looked at her, gaging her reaction to his response. It was clear to him that she believed something was out there and the fact that he hadn’t seen it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He was friends with Satori after all and she definitely believed in the afterlife and that it was something one could experience. Far be it from him to say Zan couldn’t too. “Well I don’t see her, but that doesn’t mean she’s not there.” And honestly he wondered with a sudden pang in his gut if she wasn’t seeing Lia. He’d long believed her ghost had followed him across Australia, through Iraq, and into America. “You might not be just seeing things. What else can you say about her?”
It was kind of him to believe her, since Zania had a hard time accepting it herself. She knew her eyes could play tricks on her, and after the random bout of blindness she’d gone through yesterday she wasn’t quite willing to trust them “Not much,” she said, looking back at him. “I only see her for a second or two after I open my eyes. And she’s different from the woman I was seeing by my house. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” What it was was freaky. Zania preferred not to see ghosts at all. Maybe she’d get used to it, but she didn’t think so.
Riley wasn’t sure what to make of what she was telling him other than he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable in his home. Well, not anywhere really, but especially not in the place that he called his dwelling. It was his stronghold and his safe haven. He wanted it to feel the same for everyone else who came through it. “You see someone else when you’re at home?” he asked, his voice even, no judgment or incredulity in it. He was both genuinely concerned and genuinely, though strangely, hoping she might confirm that Lia’s ghost had followed him. Not that he’d know how to handle that either.
“Yeah, different people all over the city,” Zania said, giving the window one last glance. It was too creepy to see the woman every time she blinked, so she tried to focus on Riley. It was nice of him not to call her crazy. “There was a woman outside my home, a blonde in jeans and a t-shirt. And I saw a man yesterday, but just for a split second. I think it’s my mind playing tricks on me, since the blindness thing happened.” She knew that had something to do with it. She also knew she wasn’t the only one seeing things. “Sorry, didn’t mean to creep you out.”
“No, nope. Not creeped out. Just curious mostly,” he said in all honesty. “My wife died several years ago. Before the dome. And the dark haired woman in the pastel dress sounded maybe like her. So I was interested in what you had to say about her.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her that only he’d felt from the first time he’d sat at a table of hers in the diner that she wouldn’t have a problem accepting strange things. Apparently he had been right in some respect, but he still hoped she wouldn’t scoff at him wondering if she was seeing Lia.
“Oh,” Zania said, her shoulders falling as she frowned in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I... I don’t know if it’s her.” She took a deep breath, looked towards the window, and purposefully blinked. Then there she was, like the afterburn of a lightbulb on her eyes. “She looks worried. Maybe scared. I feel like she’s trying to tell me something.” She blinked again, forcing herself to look at something she’d been trying to avoid. “She’s got long dark hair down past her shoulders. No bangs. The dress is... I don’t know what color. Pale. And buttons down the front. She’s tall and slender.” She worried her bottom lip and looked back at Riley. “Does that help?”
Riley shook his head. When he’d last seen Lia, she’d had the dark hair, but she was naturally a blonde. He couldn’t imagine why a ghost of her would have dark hair, but it had been the first thought in his mind when Zan mentioned what she’d seen. “No, it’s probably not her. I think perhaps it might be someone my housekeeper knows. She’s forever bringing people in to do odd jobs with her. Perhaps that is who she is.”
He shrugged, dismissing his own thoughts, but not hers. He took a look sip from a can of rootbeer he’d brought into the house with him and studying the side of Zan’s face. “I’ll have to talk to Reagan about the quality of my windows since it sounds like whatever’s in them is interfering with you seeing outside properly.”
Zania didn’t think this was a friend of his housekeeper’s, not unless her housekeeper was some kind of a witch. Having met the woman, that was highly doubtful. Still, it bothered her that he couldn’t see them too, and more than he didn’t believe she was seeing them at all. At least he hadn’t made some comment about her eyes not working properly, instead blaming it on the glass. “I don’t think this is Reagan’s fault,” she sighed, trying to ignore the spirit. Because that’s what it was. She was certain of it.
“Do you believe in the supernatural?” she asked, turning back to him. Staring at the ghost was only creeping her out and they couldn’t really argue about something only one of them could see. Forking a bite of lasagna, she waited for his answer.
Riley frowned at his plate for a long moment before he answered. “I don’t not believe in it. I believe in God and angels, but I’m not sure about ghosts.” He bit his lower lip because this was an odd conversation to have when he had been half hoping she had seen his dead wife. And when things like zombies actually existed in the real world. “What do you believe?” he asked by way of furthering the subject away from him onto her which seemed safer.
“I’m Catholic,” she said with a twist of her lips. “So I believe in God, and thus angels. And you can’t believe in that and not believe in the devil and demons. I don’t think of those as supernatural, really. And I liked to think that the zombies were created by a virus, rather than some mystical power. But if they’re something else... If there’s ghosts, and I do believe that’s what I’m seeing, then I’m not sure where to draw the line.” Couldn’t anything be possible? She wasn’t sure, but not knowing was almost more frightening.
He didn’t want to think about demons or the devil. Sure he believed in them. Seen more walking, talking demons than he’d care to recount to anyone. Seen more bloodshed than the zombies had ever caused -- in his presence, at least. Maybe believing in ghosts was just one more step toward reality or maybe it was one foot in the grave for himself. He couldn’t allow her to see that she’d triggered deep pain in him. It hadn’t been her fault. She couldn’t know of the smell on the air after a town had burned. She couldn’t know of his grief when he’d heard Lia had died while he was away fighting for something he didn’t even believe in. He drew in a deep breath and smiled over at her. “I’m sure you’re seeing something. Do you want to go out and try to figure out what it is?” he asked. Hoping she’d say no.
“No, not really,” Zania answered without hesitation. She knew what she was seeing because it wasn’t the first time she’d seen it. And if he wasn’t seeing it, then she’d just look crazy. The less attention she paid to the ghosts, the better she felt. In fact, she’d be happiest if they just disappeared completely. “You know when you’re little and you’re scared of the dark, so you hide under the covers, like the monsters can’t get you there? That’s what I’m doing. I’m hiding in your house, pretending there’s nothing outside, and eating delicious lasagna while I do it.”
Riley smiled a bit more broadly at her. “You’re welcome to do that any day of the week, Zan. Lord knows you give me more than my fair share of similar shelter at the diner.” He wanted to put his hand on hers in a reassuring gesture only, but wasn’t sure how she’d interpret it so he didn’t. Still he wanted her to know that he didn’t think she was a nutter. “So drums, yeah? Are you planning a band? Because I think this place is sorely without music unless one goes down the pub to hear the rubbish that calls itself irish but isn’t.” He grinned and chaffed his hand through the back of his hair.
“Thanks,” she answered with a smile. She knew she’d have to leave eventually, seeing as how she had to get to work, but she’d stall as long as she could. “I used to play the drums. Actually, I used to DJ as well, and I’m hoping to open a club. I have the lighting and the sound system, but I need a place to set up. I think Chiri is going to help me appeal to the city council. If I need to petition, would you be in?” she grinned. “And the pub’s not bad. I like it. But I want a place where I can dance.”
He nodded with an answering smile. Of course she was welcome. Anyone he felt was part of his family was welcome. They’d find a place. Always.
“Now that sounds promising,” he said to her plan of opening a club and he meant it. He wasn’t sure if he’d be a frequent customer but he’d certainly come listen to her play because she’d made herself at least that important to him. And Riley was all about people. And making sure they knew they were important in the grander scheme of things. “You have my name on any petition. No questions asked.”
He gave her a half smile. A wry smile. “The pub. It’s not bad but it’s not good either.” And he chuckled.
“Thanks!” she grinned. Whenever it came to talking about the club, Zania found herself in good spirits. She’d have never been able to open her own club back home, so the fact that she might be able to make it happen was really a dream come true. “It’s gonna be awesome. I figure some nights I can DJ, while others we can have live music. I can change it up to give us some variety.” She also figured it wouldn’t be open every night, which would allow her to keep waitressing. As for the pub, she wasn’t going to argue. Everyone had their likes and dislikes. “Well, they don’t have my pie, that’s for sure.”
Riley was outraged. Well, moderately speaking. “They don’t have your pie? Well there’s an establishment I won’t frequent. Who has a club without Zania’s pies? I mean, really.” Still he smiled. As he was always wont to do. “Now, please promise me, there will be no karaoke night. I’ve been talked into way too many of those, mate. That can’t count as live music, sure enough. Yeah?”
“You wouldn’t serve pie in a pup anyways,” she laughed. She wouldn’t be having pie in her club, that was for sure. She’d rather not bring food into the equation at all. “I can’t promise that,” she smiled. “I like the idea of it being a place where people go for entertainment. The real problem with karaoke night is that I don’t have the music without the lyrics, so people would either have to sing over the words or sing to someone playing for them. And we don’t have all those snazzy tvs with lyrics on them. It would be a disaster.” Which meant he was probably going to get his wish anyways.
“Ah, it’s a shame, but I suppose I’ll make do.” He chuckled and shook his head as he listened to her explain why there wouldn’t be karaoke most likely. “Thank goodness,” he said with a feigned sigh of relief. Truth was he’d come to her club for any reason short of it being a strip club. He enjoyed her company and mostly just wanted to see her happy if he was honest about it. She’d been such great conversation in the diner when he’d been at low points as well as high. It would be good to see her get to do something other than break her back serving others. “It’d be good for you to have something creative as an outlet. Yes?”
“Oh yeah,” she grinned. “I used to DJ way back when and I miss it. Anything with music pretty much gets me going. I love the sewing, but it’s more fun when it’s for me, than when I have to do it for work.” Making or mending people’s shirts and pants just wasn’t the same as sewing clothes for herself. She knew it was needed, especially since she used the income to purchase club parts, but that didn’t mean it was fun. “Do anything creative yourself?”
Riley watched her, enjoying that inner light he could see as she talked about the club and a good memory from the past. He was glad she was going to get to replicate that in some way here in the dome. “I can imagine it would be. That’s natural, right? I mean, who wants to only have a life spent doing things for others with nothing ever happening for them?”
Though he did suppose there were some who were built to be entirely self-sacrificing, but it didn’t seem like there were many who were perfectly so. Everyone needed something for themself. “Creative? Well, if you count making people laugh with my inability to be completely serious or coordinated while playing pool or darts. I suppose so. I’m no dancer, that’s for sure. Which I suppose would lead toward making people laugh if I did attend your club.” He chuckled.
“Well, I’ve gotta do things for others otherwise I’d have no income,” she smiled. “But I use all that to buy the stuff I need, so it’s not so bad.” It wasn’t like the diner was horribly busy all the time. It was a place people could go to grab a bite to eat when they didn’t want to cook themselves. “Not everyone’s the creative type,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, making people laugh is just as valuable, or even moreso.”
Glancing outside, Zania noticed the ghost was gone, at least for now, and she slid off her barstool. “I really should be going if I want to make my shift. Thank you so much for your help and for the lasagna.”
Riley nodded. “No, of course we must do things for others in order to provide for ourselves. I just don’t think it’s completely satisfying as a life on the whole. There has to be more.” And his life owning and working this ranch wasn’t so bad. Especially because he was able to invite people in to be part of his family or circle of friends depending on what level of interest they had in being connected with the place.
He grinned and ran a hand up the back of his hair in a nervous gesture as she made important his desire to make people laugh. It was a very boyish move and he felt small doing it, but it was nice to hear that what he did was also important.
“Ah yes, you are more than welcome and we don’t want to deprive anyone of your company down at the diner. I appreciate your stopping by and sharing lunch with me. I hope you’ll do it again.”
“It’s definitely my company they come for and not my cooking,” she laughed. “Unless it’s my pies.” They were lucky that Zania didn’t spend much time in the kitchen, but most people didn’t know that, since she worked more behind the counter. “I’ll see you later, Riley. Drop by if you get bored and want to keep me company.”
Riley stood as Zania moved to leave. He smiled and escorted her toward the door as a good host should. “See you later, that’s definite. I’m sure I’ll be in for pie later today if not sometime this week. You take care and don’t be a stranger. You’re always welcome here.” And he meant it.