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ph_logs2023-05-28 05:18 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2023-05-28 05:18 pm
Historical Society
Point of Contact: Dahlia Leeds
Meeting Spaces: Leeds Manor, Greymare Public Library
Meeting Spaces: Leeds Manor, Greymare Public Library
About.
Run by wealthy socialite and scholar Dahlia Leeds, the Pumpkin Hollow Historical society seeks to ensure the town's future by understanding its past. With frequent meetings to discuss useful and intriguing historical findings and exclusive access to Dahlia's archive, this is the place to be for inquisitive minds. A secular group, the Historical Society also maintains a respectful and neutral relationship with the church.
You can find fliers related to meetings on the bulletin boards located around the Greymare Public Library, a surprisingly austere stone building not far from town hall. A stroll past the bubbling decorative fountain and carefully-shaped topiaries will reveal said board hanging from the wall just beside the door. Look for the stamp of a death's head hawkmoth and you'll be sure to find a helpful advertisement indicating their robust meeting schedule.
Use this post to RP threads that take place at or in relation to the Pumpkin Hollow Historical Society! More details on the organization and its workings can be found under the drop-downs.
You can find fliers related to meetings on the bulletin boards located around the Greymare Public Library, a surprisingly austere stone building not far from town hall. A stroll past the bubbling decorative fountain and carefully-shaped topiaries will reveal said board hanging from the wall just beside the door. Look for the stamp of a death's head hawkmoth and you'll be sure to find a helpful advertisement indicating their robust meeting schedule.
Use this post to RP threads that take place at or in relation to the Pumpkin Hollow Historical Society! More details on the organization and its workings can be found under the drop-downs.
Membership.
Joining. You'll have to work very hard to convince the other members of the group you are trustworthy and not just here to mooch off of Dahlia or steal secrets for someone else's gain, and missing gatherings or questioning Dahlia's decisions are strictly prohibited.
Benefits. Dahlia's wealth and influence can be used to increase your financial stability, resources, and occasionally call in a favor to get out of a sticky situation. Dahlia's got your back! Additionally, you'll have access to more information.
Drawbacks. Members of this group die much more frequently under mysterious circumstances. They may also feel some impact from Dahlia's ongoing feud with Ocularum leader Neil West.
Philosophy.
The mistakes of the past are doomed to be repeated if they are forgotten. The Historical Society prides itself on researching, analyzing, and sharing the history of the town and surrounding island for the benefit of its modern residents. This includes and even prioritizes trying to understand the start of the island's curse. It is the hope of the Historical Society that discovering the origin of the curse will lead to uncovering the method by which it can become undone. In the meantime, their useful research on monsters and spirits is used to help locals combat the frequent paranormal problems they experience.The Historical Society is decidedly secular, welcoming members regardless of religious beliefs. They do not require any sacrifices, offerings, or devotional acts--- only a dedication to learning and research. The one stipulation is that Dahlia maintains a fairly rigorous meeting schedule.
CODE BY MARWOOD
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Clearing his throat, Ianto gestures for her to wait a moment as he stands, heads over to the librarian to grab one of the books he checked out, then returns to Dahlia's side. Passing her the copy of A Pilgrim In Pumpkin Hollow, he gestures to the page he marked with a scrap of paper.
"There. Flip to that page?...quite worn, careful--that entry there. The description matches what I saw almost perfectly. Massive, pointy, glowing eyes--blood on its breath, that's what I take the reference to the copper smell to be." Ianto continues with a heavy sigh. He can still feel the agony of being torn up...
He can't help the shiver that runs up his spine.
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"Oh, no," she muttered lowly as she reached the end. "If this is what got you... that doesn't bode well."
She flipped the book closed, setting it aside on the desk. "I should inform the Safety Board that the Pine Devil is active again, and snoop around to see if there have been any other sightings."
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Though his voice remains low, his gaze still scans the room to make sure they’re not being overheard.
“If you tell me what you know and give me my head, there’s a fair chance I can make a bit more headway than the bloody Safety Board. Not merely in ensuring public welfare, but in stopping this thing permanently.”
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Something in Ianto’s face and posture shifts then—nothing he’s aware of. The set of his jaw, the straightening of his spine…the ice that crystallizes in pale blue eyes. His manner is impassioned, but the honesty and urgency of it are touched with the chill finger of experience.
Ianto isn’t aware of how he transforms from the composed personal assistant to the Torchwood field agent in a breath—he just knows he can’t get the horrors of the Brecon Beacons out of his head or the monolith of Abaddon to leave his mind’s eye.
Nor, when he looks at Dahlia—fragile, steely, silkstone Dahlia—can he get the image of Jack staggering out of death and into the shadow of a dark god to leave him.
He doubted Jack, and he watched him die. Ianto nearly hesitates…but there is no ghost to tempt him this time. No voice whispering in his ear to do what he knows is wrong.
Only Jack’s example to give him courage—and Dahlia Leeds to give that courage to.
“There is another word for monsters where I come from: aliens. Things from beyond all the stars in the night sky, people and creatures and technology.” He continues. “My job was to face those things every day, and still more besides in my own backyard that lies beyond any human imagining. Not all of them could be killed, some could only be contained. That’s what I’m proposing: hunt this…Pine Devil not to kill, but to imprison it. Trap the bugger so it can’t hurt anyone else.”
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Tutting, she reached for a notebook of hers. "So far, we haven't been able to do a ton of research on it, and there are no historical accounts due to the fact that it appears to be entirely unique to Marrow Isle. As far as most can tell, its primary goal, like most predators, is to eat. Most attempts to search for it outside of when it's hunting have been unsuccessful and no one's been able to locate any sort of permanent den, which leads me to believe it's nomadic. As far as we can tell, there seems to only be one, but it's difficult to say. In my opinion, the Pine Devil is just a symptom of the larger problem at hand and chasing it is an unnecessary risk."
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He can see Jack in his mind’s eye, pale and still on the slab—drained of all vitality by Abaddon. Jack Harkness, the man who got up after being shot in the head…
(He has no reason to see her face in Jack’s place. No reason whatsoever to see harsh neon on already pale skin tinged blue by death…)
“You’re my boss—you can rightly tell me to do whatever you like.” He sighs. “You can tell me not to pursue this and…I won’t. You give me an order and I will obey it. But I’m asking you not to give me that order to stop—not if I can do something to keep others safe.”
(Jack is gone. He’s accepting that. She is here. She is fine. She is not in that drawer back in Cardiff…)
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The thought springs up, unbidden, and he's startled by how true it is. She doesn't want him to do this, and he won't, beyond book research...
But he can't stop thinking about what might have happened if he hadn't walked her directly home. If they had tarried, if she had tried to see him safely back to the inn.
He can't get Jack, ice cold, out of his head.
Ianto isn't aware of reaching out until he feels Dahlia's slim fingers in his, warm and delicate, his grip firm but not tight.
"And I hope that you'll bear in mind that the Leeds name means precisely fuck all to me." he replies softly, gently despite the harshness of the words. "I have no regard or respect for this town's founding family...I took a liking to a barefoot bookworm named Dahlia, and her family--Jane, Japhet, Alice, Emily, Oscar, Violet, Henry, Jasper, Samuel, Adelaide, Esther, Abel, Harriet, and Jonah--are important because she loves them, she lost them...and the look on her face when she found out that I had died by this creature's hand was not the look of a concerned employer."
He leans in a little, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, his voice hard.
"I respect the feelings of those I like, Dahlia. But mark my words: if this thing strays too close to you again? It might survive death, but it will rise up in pieces--and I'll be the one with blood on my breath come the dawn."
With one final squeeze, he releases her hand, reaches for his book, and rises with a more formal nod of his head so he can focus on the task of tidying up in the aftermath of the meeting.
If research is all he's going to be doing, he's got his work cut out for him--he can expel his sudden desire for violence on a few sleepless nights of data collection to take the edge off.
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At last, she smiles, the action languidly slow, and she blinks back to reality. "My, how crass," she teases him, her tone of voice almost gossamer in its delicate softness. The light jab holds no venom. "But I do understand. And thank you."
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And every bloody word out of her mouth matters.
He nods--winks, a barely there flutter of an eyelid--and turns away again.