When You’re Down And Out | OTA

[deepbluerevue]

Who: Grace Holloway (deepbluerevue) & sundry (You)

What: Grace’s return to Pumpkin Hollow

When: November 9th to 14th (roughly)

Where: Downtown and the Oak & Iron

Warning(s): Rapture in the late 1950s into the 1960s was a tough place to live, but Grace is unlikely to bring such things up of her own accord.

DOWNTOWN PUMPKIN HOLLOW (after Grace has been to City Hall)

Winter is rapidly approaching Marrow Isle, and anyone with the wardrobe to do so is bundled against the weather. The middle-aged woman in a new arrival’s garb, on the other hand, has her girlishly-round jaw clenched against the cold, the hand not holding her cane tucked casually in her pocket. She doesn’t look overwhelmed, per se, but there’s a definite air of measurement as her eyes flick over each shop in turn. Particularly, she seems to assess the newer shops, and those selling clothing.

If one had to guess, one would probably say the woman is in her late thirties, perhaps early forties. The few lines on her face speak to some time spent frowning and a lot of time spent smiling. Her coily hair is expertly coiffed into a simple, protective updo. When she shifts in her simple boots, her left leg seems a little less able to bend at the knee.

Given how uncomfortably chilled she looks, she’ll probably move into a shop soon.

(This is a great opening for a clothier!)

THE OAK AND IRON (after Grace has gone shopping)

It’s not quite dark, so the Oak and Iron still has plenty of custom, though people intending to spend the night at home are starting to trickle out. On an end of the bar with a good vantage point, a middle-aged woman clad in a white linen blouse, a light brown waistcoat, and a long brown skirt sits with ankles crossed and nurses a glass of wine. A few people seem to double-take on seeing her, going over for a few minutes of conversation, to which she smiles, clasping their hands companionably or nodding or something similar.

Someone with a guitar is strumming out background music, and the woman politely applauds every finished number.

WILDCARD

For other ideas and ways to exploit Grace’s disorienting return, PM me!

Comments

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Leon raises his own glass in turn, smiling as well.

"Let's see... I'd say the most important thing that happened since I showed up was that we found out who put up the barrier keeping Marrow Isle separate from the rest of the world - more or less. Some months back, a handful of people wound up pulled into a vision of the ritual that caused it - carried out by cultists serving a god called -"

And here Leon pauses briefly, making sure he's got the syllables right in his head before speaking.

"- Nyarlathotep. Now, why they wanted that is still a little up in the air, but we've got someone to blame other than just shrugging and saying it's probably the demons, at least. Oh, and speaking of which, two of the demon princes are now dead."

He drums his fingertips on the table, thinking over the details.

"Not entirely sure about the specifics of what happened to Mendel, but he went down during Dahlia's birthday party last year, and Efrain got taken out by one of ours back in spring of this year, thanks in part to a little backstabbing by his brother Aster. Seems like things are starting to come to a head when it comes to their politics, so we can probably expect to be seeing more of him and Eligos soon. But other than that, I think it's mostly been a lot of comings and goings."

[deepbluerevue]

From the blankness leaking in behind Grace’s pleasant expression, this is a lot to take in. “Damn,” she says. “… Damn.”

She looks back at Leon, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “Did you know, I think I got cursed by ‘Aster’ just before I was sent back? A dancing plague. Sprained every bit of my legs, it felt like.” Right now, her legs are very still where they rest on the bar stool. Not even fidgeting.

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Yeah, that about sums it up, doesn't it?" Leon agrees, smiling wryly. It's a lot to take in. At that next bit though, his smile drops, a sudden weariness slamming back into him with the force of a truck.

"And that sounds about par for the course. On that note I guess on top of all that I should let you know - the last big island-shaking happening was a pretty rough one. So. If everyone seems kind of not okay right now, I promise it's not you."

[deepbluerevue]

Grace’s finely arched eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “Well.” She takes another long sip of wine, politely glancing away from the bleak expression on the young man’s face. “That bad, huh?”

She raises a hand for the bartender. Perhaps Mr. Kennedy could use another drink. Or something salty. Whichever.

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"That bad." Leon confirms. Normally he'd think to downplay it a little, just out of macho habit if nothing else, but... it was bad. There's no real way around it. Whole island's still feeling the aftershocks. He huffs out a sigh, shaking his head and ordering himself a glass of whiskey when the bartender arrives.

"This round's on me," he says, forcing himself to lighten up a little rather than fall down the rabbit hole that is thinking too hard about the past month again. "Think of it as a 'welcome back' gift."

[deepbluerevue]

Her gaze returns to Leon as he orders. “Aren’t you a gentleman,” Grace says, cheeks rounding into apples as she smiles wider than ever. “Seems I got real lucky in one way if not the other, coming back when I did, huh?” She doesn’t wait for a response, toasting him again. “Cheers.”

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"Cheers. Here's to your good timing, and to hoping we don't have to do anything like that again any time soon."

He raises his glass and resists the urge to knock the whole thing back in one go. Better to have some self-control - the conversation will do him more good when it comes to a distraction than getting wasted.

"What else, though?" he asks himself aloud after taking a drink. "Right - this cave system under the island opened up around the time I got here. It's called Paradesium, and it's like a jungle down there. Pretty dangerous when it comes to the wildlife, but there's all sorts of stuff growing there that you can't find up top. We've got coffee and chocolate now, for one thing."

[deepbluerevue]

Grace visibly brightens. “Well, now. That’s some nonsense to be sure… but I haven’t had real chocolate in a dog’s age, so maybe I won’t complain. Have you been there? I’ve never seen a jungle.” She’s seen kelp forests, certainly. If she’s back here long enough, maybe she’ll start to miss them. Wouldn’t that be something.

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

“Spent a couple months roughing it down there, actually,” Leon admits, a sheepish and self-effacing smile tugging at his features. “Fell down a hole while gathering herbs and had a hell of a time getting back out. Definitely don’t go down there without a buddy to watch your back and a firm grip on your sending stone.”

Not that Grace strikes him as the type to go gallivanting around dangerous terrain by herself, but it bears saying anyway.

“Anyway, I’m no connoisseur, but the stuff that grows down there seems to be pretty top-notch. Getting it up here’s a bit of an undertaking, so it’s still kind of an expensive treat, but hey. I’ll take it over no chocolate or coffee at all, definitely.”

[deepbluerevue]

Grace hms. “A couple months? Damn. That’s something for sure.” (Lost his sending stone on the way, maybe?) Her hand goes to the pocket where her stone resides at the thought, patting the shape. She adds, cheekily, “I’ll be sure to avoid it entirely, and just go about enjoying the spoils.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I’m impressed you made it out, then. They teach you that stuff as an enforcer here?”

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Leon's sheepish smile grows just the slightest bit more genuine at the way Grace sounds impressed by the feat. He's still kind of embarrassed by the whole thing, and if asked would say it was more luck than skill that kept him alive down there, but he can take a little credit for it, as a treat.

"No, but that might be a good idea," Leon says, making a mental note. "Spent some time learning the basics of wilderness survival and jungle survival specifically back home. Didn't think it'd be relevant again here, but I guess it worked out."

[deepbluerevue]

Her eyebrows rise. “You got jungles back where you came from? What kind of job did you have that put you in a jungle?”

(Grace Holloway is, to the marrow of her bones, a city mouse. The most wilderness she’s seen is the forests outside St. Louis, and the kelp forests around Rapture, and she wasn’t walking around either of those on the regular.)

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

There's a moment's hesitation before Leon answers, more habitual than anything else. Back home, his job is very classified, but here he's blabbed about it enough to enough people - both on purpose and not - that he's pretty sure it doesn't matter anymore. What are they gonna do, follow him across universes and tell the President he's been leaking state secrets?

"Well, not where I came from specifically. I'm from New England," he says. "But my job back there was mostly being sent all over the place to investigate the use of illegal bioweapons. Viruses, mutagens, that kind of thing. The jungle was a one-time thing, but it was... one of the bigger operations I was a part of."

His expression sours a little, going distant as he tries not to dwell too hard on how that whole mission went.

[deepbluerevue]

Grace either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment on the hesitation, but her nose wrinkles up in disgust at the description as she takes in his expression. “I can imagine. Ugh. We had…” She pauses in turn, with a look like she’s assembling an explanation. “Back home, we got this stuff that could change genes in a grown creature easy as anything. ‘Flesh becomes clay’,” she says, in a dry tone that sounds like a quote. “Folks use ADAM on themselves, though, they don’t put it in other people. That stuff’s expensive,” she adds wryly, watching his face.

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

Leon scoffs a little at 'flesh becomes clay,' clearly not impressed by the tagline, though he listens through to the end of Grace's explanation before commenting.

"Yeah? Sounds like some of what people were trying to do back where I come from, before they realized all their work just turned people into monsters and decided to rebrand it. I did hear the founder of the company responsible for the worst of it was trying to make himself immortal or something."

Before he ran off to his estate in the middle of nowhere to avoid being imprisoned for as many lifetimes as they could reasonably slap him with, that is. Ugh. Leon does have to wonder what's going on with him, at this point. Nothing good, he hopes.

"How well does this ADAM stuff work, though? I'm guessing by your tone there's a pretty hefty catch."

[deepbluerevue]

“Oh, it works great.” Grace’s lip lifts in a trace of a sneer. “Make you faster, stronger, smarter, prettier. Throw lightning from your fingers. The thing is, far as I know, what it does is go into a person, kills their cells, and replaces them with unstable ones. Like a cancer you can order around. But if you stop putting more ADAM in to control what you’ve changed…” She spreads her hands suggestively. “It can turn people into monsters, like you say. Desperate folks, buying more to stay alive. Great business plan,” she says, deeply sardonic. “Captive market. I know one of the bosses responsible got the end he deserved. I hope the other one did too.”

That’s not even to mention the Gatherers, all those little girls with sea slugs buried in their guts. (Why didn’t she see…)

She nods to Leon. “I hope it all catches up to your fellow sooner rather than later.”

[OOC canon pedantry note: there’s actually evidence that organisms modified by experts do not necessarily fall victim to ADAM sickness — possibly the “stem cells” are prevented from overgrowing? mechanism unclear — but Grace wouldn’t know that.]

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

By now Leon's fairly acclimated to people being from other worlds where things like genetic engineering and superpowers are real, but it still catches him a little off-guard to hear it put into terms that sound almost feasible by his reality's standards. He raises his eyebrows, impressed even knowing the other shoe is about to drop - and drop it does.

"Ugh," he says. "Yeah, if Umbrella could've gotten away with that I'm sure they would've tried. Sorry you had to deal with something like that, too."

In a way he's almost glad that Umbrella's latest line of 'products' are only good for destroying cities. He doesn't want to imagine what it'd look like if their retroviruses had done something useful at the cost of rotting you alive if you couldn't keep up with their payment plan. That's a different kind of horror altogether. He shakes his head.

"But, thanks. Last I heard he'd fled the country and was holed up in some mansion somewhere with what was left of his assets, and there's not a lot we can do about it, but. Fingers crossed he chokes on his caviar or something."

[deepbluerevue]

“We can only hope,” Grace says, taking another sip. Her face is a lot grimmer when she adds, “Those sorts often seem to make their own trouble. If they didn’t take so many people down with ‘em, I almost wouldn’t mind. But it’s so much easier to get things done when you can sucker folks in.”

[nothingbadeverhappensto]

"It's true. Don't think people like Oswell Spencer would be half the problem they are if they couldn't secure funding and lackeys." He swirls his drink in his glass, staring down into it. "Lot of brilliant people followed him down for a lot of reasons I don't pretend to understand. A lot of them claimed they just didn't know the details of what their work was being used for. I don't know if I believe that in every case, but..."

He thinks of Luis, and the guilt the other man had finally admitted to shortly before he died. How aware had he been, of what Umbrella was really up to? How involved had he been? Chances are he'll never find out for sure.

[deepbluerevue]

Something moves beneath the surface of her face. Like something large and indistinct swimming by under murky water before it freezes over.

She swirls her own glass a few times and finishes it off. “I suppose in the end, it doesn’t matter too much, huh.” With that, she stretches slightly and reaches for her cane. “Now, I don’t want to put you out nowhere, so don’t you move on my account, but I think I ought to visit the ladies, and then I might be heading to bed. Long day, you can imagine.”