Log:Speaking On Spooks

Speaking On Spooks
"We wanted to ask about seances."
Participants Franklyn, CB, Rozalia	2017.11.21 Franklyn and CB visit Nightingale Mortuary to ask Rozalia about the restless dead.
Location Nightingale Mortuary
Apparently funeral homes do have downtime. Or at least times where it's quiet. There's no services today, but the signs that are up state that there are tomorrow. It sucks. The day before Thanksgiving people are being buried. There's a purple haired woman that's moving back and forth, placing chairs where they need to be placed for the service tomorrow. Because that still had to be done. She's dressed in jeans, black t-shirt, long black suit jacket and boots. And for the moment her sunglasses are gone. The front door opens, letting in cold air and chatter: "Look, I'm just saying; if they asked you for an interview with the Paris Review, either do it or don't do it? Just make the /decision/..." That is the voice of Franklyn Alexander; bundled up in an appropriately autumnal dark wool overcoat and a black-n-red plaid scarf. Gloves? On. Boots? Gum-soled. Baggage? As always, it swings from her arm - threatening to knock into a one C.B. Alexander, who she walks alongside with. The weather outside is frightful, but inside it's so... Dark and gloomy and entirely dedicated to mourning the dead. Franklyn shuts up once she's stepped into the hush of the room -- big green eyes all wide and watchful as she turns to look around, looking - feeling - both excited and, well, anxious? Anxious. Just a tad - mixing with some not-so-low-key fascination. When she spots Rozalia, Franky squints a bit, head tilted. Uncertain. Is she in charge? Quick look to C.B., then back to Roz. "...Hello!" Squeak; Franky clears her throat, attempts to adjust her volume to a level acceptable for a funeral home, and tries again: "Hello, hi, uhm - not to interrupt, but..." Franklyn fades off as she looks the Fairest over, distracted? She does look tired. "Do you have, some, time?" C.B. grunts. "She always wants me to do every interview. What does she know?" He smells like cigarette smoke, probably just finished smoking one. Shoulders hunched, he wears a Red Sox cap and a quilted red and black plaid jacket over a gray henley over a white t-shirt, Levis, work boots, and gray fingerless wool gloves. No messenger bag today. He quiets too as he squints, letting his eyes adjust, eventually finding the figure of the purple-haired Fairest. He lets Frank do the talking for now, content to just frown and probably judge Rozalia for who knows what. "You're not interrupting anything." she shakes her head to that. Rozalia's glowing eyes aren't easy to read, but the expressive brows are. She's a bit amused. "Miss Garreau and Mister Alexander." the Romanian greets the pair. Yes. She knew of them. And the accent suggests that English was not her first language, but is spoken well. "Come in and have a seat. What can I help you with today?" she asks them. Is that her name being called?! Damnit. Franklyn blinks, then takes a moment to morph that shock into something akin to flattery; lifting a gloved hand to press against her chest, smiling - beam! bright! - and half-attempting to subtly usher C.B. alongside her as she glides off in Rozalia's direction. "Yes, well, I suppose the dead can wait -- I mean, unless they're restless, right?" Not every joke lands, alright? Franklyn smiles, and extends a hand to Roz in greeting. See? No weapons! Only a fancy glove. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage; you are?... And that is, like, such a great question? Oh-- oh, nobody's died." A beat. "Well, actually I suppose they have - but I mean, we're not here to set a service or anything... But you do, work with the dead, right?" She may be smiling, but Franklyn is looking Rozalia over curiously - giving C.B. a quick glance, like she was looking for backup. "Don't call me that," C.B. says, a touch peevish. "Call me C.B." Manners, C.B., manners. "Please." He trails along to wherever Frank gestures him to go, really. He glances at Frank when she looks at him -- is he supposed to be doing something? Well, if she really wants his help... "I hear the dead body ended up here." Blunt is as blunt does. "The one who was like us. Well, we're curious about who else has been brought here recently, too." "My apologies." Rozalia chuckles as she looks to Franklyn with a bit of a smile. "The dead wait sometimes, my restless ones are roaming for the moment." she tells her. She reaches out to take her hand, giving a shake, "I'm Rozalia Cobalescu." she introduces herself. "I'm glad no one has died." she adds to that. Then there's a look to CB and she quirks her eyebrow to him before looking back to Franklyn...who looks perfectly mortal to her. "I'm guessing you're part of the initiated." she states to that. "No, we've not had any new bodies turn up. Anne Marie's funeral is Friday." she states. "If we have any more bodies that come in I can let people know though." she adds. Franklyn's smile gets a little sharp as C.B. gets peevish Rozalia over his name - although she melts back into something more personable once he says please. Rozalia gets a brighter look, as the Mortal girl shakes her hand swiftly and nods. "Pleasure, Rozalia -- and, ah, yes. Glad. Well, someone is almost always dying - hell, I'm dying again right now - but not quickly or closely enough to bore you with /those/ details." Cue laughter; light and weird and only a little nervous around the edges. Because Franky gives C.B. another look; under the brightness, there is a tone of worry as Roz mentions the initiated. Eyes flick over Roz again - where are her hands? - then Franklyn is smoothing out the front of her coat and nodding again, sticking close by C.B's side. "Terrible shame about Anne Marie." Does she even know who that was? Moving on; "Actually, Rozalia, we were wondering if..." Glance around the hall. Nobody else is here, right? "...You could tell us about, seances?" "She can see us for what we are, yes." But C.B. looks vaguely surprised at the direction Franky turns the conversation is. He stands there, arms folded, brow slightly knit, and watches her. Then watches Rozalia to see how she reacts. Never once does he offer his hand to be shook, but then again, it's not like Rozalia offered her hand to him, either. "It's nice to meet the two of you." Roz tells them. A look given from Franklyn to CB. "And we're all dying." the Dusk says. "Nothing to stop it. Just enjoy getting there." she muses. Then she looks curious about the topic of seances. Then her pure white eyes look to CB, "I'm sorry." she frowns to that. "And of course if you have questions about the moving symbols...ask." she muses. "But, seances..." she wiggles her fingers, "A meeting at which people attempt to make contact with the dead, especially through the agency of a medium. Find yourself someone that can speak to ghosts and go from there. Are you needing someone with that ability?" she asks them. "If so. I can." she offers. Franklyn, in turn, looks a touch surprised when C.B. outs her as being all Wyrd Eyed -- as /if/ Franky wouldn't make it obvious eventually, right? Still. She sways on her feet, clasping her hands together in front of her; smile on her lips, only fidgeting slightly. Little twitch of her elbow, a sway in C.B's direction as she listens to Roz, nodding slowly. "I tell Ceebabe--, Mister Ale--, excuse me; /.C.B./ that all the time: we already know how this story ends. The exciting part's in figuring out the plot between the final act, right?" A look to him, as if to confirm -- then Franklyn snaps straight back to Rozalia, her hair floofing around her rather wildly. Matches that gleam in those green eyes of hers. Is it about the glyphs? No, but Franky is probably curious if that glance is anything to judge by -- what has her all wild, though, is the ghost talk. Moreso? Roz' offer. "Oh, how marvellous!" Said like Franklyn's been told her dress fitting will happen in time for a white tie event. Hand clap together, and she actually lifts herself up on the toes of her boots -- excited!! -- before rocking back and forth, all animated. "It's about a murder! Actually, thirteen of them -- do you hike, Rozalia?" Quick head-to-toe glance, then sotto-voice to C.B, "She can probably make it up the side of the mountain, right? I mean, if /I/ can..." C.B. has a tendency to forget what's okay to say to whom, when. It has a tendency to get him in trouble. Right now he's probably okay, but. Who knows about next time? He just shrugs at Rozalia's offer about the glyphs because apparently, he doesn't care. Then again, he's usually pretty grumpy and right now is no exception. He shrugs at Franky, shifting on his heels, arms still folded. But he doesn't say anything else. He's really just along for the ride. Frank's the one who got this ball rolling. Rozalia gives a bit of an 'ahhhh...' when she realizes Franklyn and CB are there about something she is investigating as well, "That's an old trail to be digging up. I got to look at the bodies a while back, but I've not been able to locate any ghosts from any of them." she frowns. "Which doesn't mean they aren't around. They could just be wandering or misplaced...or in the Underworld." she adds. "I grew up in the Carpathians. So yes, I like to hike." she admits. Then there's a look to CB, "I heard that your new book came out recently, congratulations on that." she tells him with a nod of her head. "Not as old as some - the fuzz," Really, Franklyn just used the word 'fuzz'? "Just released details about there being some kind of toxin in the victim's blood? And look..." Franky glances to C.B., trying to read the grumpy Wizened's expression before she turns back to Roz, her hand digging through her bag as she chatters on. "...I won't bore you with details on /why/, but I identified the motive for the killings. They will happen again - I mean, not those /specific/ ones, but similar ones? The man responsible is looking to extend... Well... His time." Yeah. Franklyn may be irked with C.B. to oversharing, but the girl is going and doing the very same thing. How hypocritical! Her hand moves from her bag, and a small card is passed over to Roz. Franky blinks, silently mouths 'underworld', and looks to C.B. quickly. Like he has the answer - then back to Roz, "Have you tried visiting the site of the murder? I propose we consider a walk up there, some point soon, to see what resonates. Both myself and Ceebs are... We're good at, reading the signs of the time? So if we can find some, let's investigate. How does that sound?" And she's looking to everyone now -- pure director mode. The Author finally speaks, gesturing with one inkstained hand. "She's right. We both have some Sight, so we're not entirely useless. Well. /I'm/ not entirely useless. Frank is plenty useless." Then C.B. goes back to folding his arms and swaying lightly on his feet, sizing Rozalia up. "If ghosts and the like are your bag, then we should make this a group effort. In cases like this, the more the merrier." Roz gives a gentle nod to that, "I contacted my friends at the coroner's office when that news came out. I just wish I could get a look at the bodies again." she admits. Then there's a curious quirk of an eyebrow, "How very curious." she murmurs. "Is it thaumaturgy?" she asks. Then she has to stop herself, "You can tell me on our hike. If I get to asking occult questions we'll be here all day and I'm sure that is not what we need." she chuckles. "If you like...I can see if any of my visions can bring anything new to light. I don't use them much, but I'd not really had much information besides toxins and the thirteen till now." she tells them. "And yes, a group effort is vastly preferred. Would you mind a fourth? Just in case this...life stealer has the gift of foresight and knows someone could be onto him?" she poses that to the two of them. Cue spooky music. "Only because the alternative is obsolescence." Franklyn says in response to C.B's compliment - and while that smile is bright, there's something a little, ah, iffy about her tone. Self deprecating, maybe? Dark? Either way, she's carrying on, nodding to Roz as she listens -- rocking back-and-forth on her feet, occasionally standing on tippy-toes. Hard to stop moving. "Could you arrange for one of them to be sent here, for their funeral?" Franklyn says this, as if the poor dead person was a flower arrangement. "We could send some literature to whoever is making the arrangements..." Then Franky merely quiets - giving Roz a rather secretive smile at her curiosity re: Frank's magical status. Not at all avoidant on the subject, neeeewp -- it's just so much more, uh, efficient to not go into deets. Right? Right! "Thirteen. No cult affiliation. They were murdered by a single man; he does not live in Fort Brunsett. He will kill again, and his objective is to extend the longevity of his own life. When will he strike? Unknown. You have our number, Rozalia. Contact us when you're content with your visions -- let us know who the forth is, if you can? And... Yes." Franky turns to C.B. and nods her head, speaking low. "We should ask to see, how much the man may know about what we know."