mortalrelics

Where: Snake Eyes Casino | When: Night | Whom: Open to all

Godscobh wasn't a very big city. But from within these walls, you would never have known. Snake Eyes Casino is bustling with life 24/7. Between the smoke and flashing lights, the droves of beautiful young waitresses attending your every need with a smile and the live jazz band playing endlessly, you couldn't tell the time of day. In Snake Eyes Casino, you were living the dream. A shiny, drunken and uninhibited dream world that promised you everything you could ever desire. Funny how quickly a bottle of champagne and a couple of free credits could make any mild issue simply go away! A fantastic magic trick that never seemed to fade in effectiveness. And if the problem persists... There was a team ready to turn your life into a living nightmare.

Cigarette in hand, Damien "Boogeyman" Sanderson stands proudly on the second floor balcony overlooking the main game room. His eyes scanning his domain, looking out for any signs of scammers and other wiseguys who dared believe they could outplay him. And like clockwork, a duo catches his eye across the room. Big mistake.

With a swift gesture, he calls over one of his lackeys and whispers something into his ear. The man nods once and reaches for his radio.

"Table 28. Good night."

And with that, the unsuspecting men get escorted out of the premises. They shout in protest, resisting the large security guards in vain. Coincidentally, a flock of handsome waiters just so happened to approach a nearby booth celebrating a bachelorette party. Greeted with sparklers, flutes of champagne and cheers, the women screech in excitement! Suddenly, no one seems to care what happened to those guys. In fact, no one even remembers them. Poof! Magic. Damien chuckles. Although this scene graces his stage regularly, he never gets tired of the despair on their faces as they realize they never had the upper hand. He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he continues his observations. That's when he notices... them. What are they doing here tonight? Mr. Sanderson pauses pensively then abruptly puts out his cigarette. Eyes locked on his prey, he moves onto the game floor. He slithers through the blissfully unaware crowd with ease before stopping behind his visitor. He clears his throat to catch their attention. "Look who we have here..." he settles next to them by the bar. "What brings you to my door on this fine night?" He playfully leans onto his closed fist, batting his eyelashes. "I don't suppose you've decided to visit just to have a go at the slots, have you?"

“As tempting as the slots are, I am not here to lose money I don’t have time to earn back,” Hades said, half jokingly. Gambling was not something he liked to do. And frankly, it wasn’t something he should do as the mayor of Godscobh. Hades picked up his drink from the bar as it was served to him. “I’m here to see how things are going.” He said, keeping his polite and composed demeanour on his face. "See how you're doing."

“Business seems to be booming as usual.” He sipped his drink and watched Damien carefully. What he was really doing was fishing for more details, without specifically asking the questions out loud.

"Good to see you out," Harriet held up her glass, noticing Haneul's non-alcoholic mixer he held in turn. It was sort of an all-ages thing, so there wouldn't be too much temptation to drink. But Harriet still wanted to keep an eye out... "Can I interest you in a glitter tattoo?"

@mortalrelics

Haneul brought his drink to his lips and took a sip when she mentioned the glitter tattoo. He turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised with interest. “A glitter tattoo? Now you’re speaking my language.” He set his drink down. “Honestly, you had me at glitter,” he said truthfully and smiled at her. “What would you recommend for me? I’m thinking artistic, but with a hint of drama.” 

Where: Olympian gardens | When: mid-day | Whom: open to all

Today is a day off for Emanuel. He seldom gets the chance to stop and rest. For the occasion, the young manager chose to go to one of his favourite places, Olympian Gardens. At a slow pace, he makes his way to a bench. In truth, he would be tempted to claim it was "his" bench. After all, he never saw anyone else sit there and coming to this spot has become a bit of a ritual during his few days of rest.

A tranquil and quiet stroll. Always stopping to smell the fresh air when it hit the various flowers of the garden. Taking in every bit of nature he can as if uncertain he'd get the chance to do so any time soon. Once he'd sufficiently reconnected with the elements, he proceeds to his final destination: the bench! A quiet groan escapes him as he sits down. Tired wasn't enough to describe the pains in his body from standing long hours at the Ambrosia. The weight of keeping the establishment open was definitely starting to take a toll but Emanuel never once considered leaving. In fact, he almost felt guilty to be away from his post. Surely a bit of administration was left to be done. What of the day old pastries? Would his worker remember to give them away? Did-- "Never mind all that, Emanuel!" he thinks to himself. He takes a deep inhale to recenter himself. In actuality, Emanuel had come with a purpose beyond relaxation this time. He had brought a book... a dream dictionary! Which he opens almost impatiently moments after settling down. The young manager begins reading with intent, deeply focused. Last night he had a weird dream and he's keen on deciphering.

A wheat field. A golden sunset. A child running away from him. Always out of reach. The child disappears into the foliage only to emerge as a flock of doves...

Just as he begins to find keywords and definitions, he hears the sound of gravel cracking under the weight of someone approaching. Emanuel moves to close the book half way, almost instinctively hiding it from prying eyes. He's aware of the oddity of his... peculiar interest in dreams. Being mute, he has very few options in ways to explain away his odd choice of literature. Should they have noticed the book, he can only hope the other is open minded enough not to mock him. Then again, it's not like it would have been the first time. With a brother like his...

He noticed the man on the bench where he usually sat with his sketches, and the way he was reading with intense focus. The sudden, almost guilty movement to hide his book took Haneul off guard. He recognised it, though. He had seen it in artists who were ridiculed rather than celebrated for their works and interests. He always found it dumb how quick people were to judge others’ interests.

When the man gestured for him to join, Haneul offered a polite nod of his head and a genuine smile. He settled on the bench, keeping a respectable distance between the two of them as they were still strangers. “Thank you,” he said, setting his sketchbook down on his lap. His eyes moved towards the other again, curious about what he had been reading, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t want to make the man feel like he was judged or watched. That feeling came all too easily in Godscobh anyway, he didn’t need to add to it. 

“Sorry to disturb your peace,” he said politely, flipping open his sketchbook. It was a sketch he had been working on for a while, which was why he kept returning to this particular spot. He wanted to get the details right.  He pulled out a pencil from his bag, and leaned back in his seat. “I’m Haneul, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met? Have I seen you around the town before?” 

the young woman was dressed down- still put together for a respectable, summer fit- compared to her usual work clothes that she was often found in. with all the festivities going on, michael had gotten the idea that nana deserved to partake in them too. which wendy agreed was a wonderful idea, but michael had always been a bit more easily distracted than say her or john.

there was a reason michael walked her the least...

"no worries if you haven't," she raised her hands in slight apology.

Haneul thought for a moment, considering the possibilities. “Though, if the dog is as enthusiastic as you’re describing, I’d guess wherever the most interesting smells are, or maybe wherever the food is? That seems to be pretty universal for most dogs to be interested in.” Haneul turned his gaze back to her and offered a small smile. “I can help you look if you’d like?” It wasn’t like he was doing anything right now anyway, other than enjoying the festivities. 

"So much for 'friends in high places'," James hung his coat up carefully as he walked into the man's office. It was too clean in here, and the captain bristled at how formal everything was.

"Care to explain why there are cops swarming my ships like flies as of late?"

@mortalrelics

Hades knew the situation at the port was getting a little intense, and he was trying to work something out. He understood Hook’s frustration, of course, but working on a solution when someone was breathing down your neck about it was a little… irritating. “I’m working on it.” He said, sitting up a little more in his seat. He watched Hook carefully before continuing.  “What are they doing? And more importantly, what have they found?” 

She shook her head in response to his question. “It’s not. I locked up the shop a while ago and headed home, but I couldn’t sleep, so it was either go insane staring at the walls of my apartment or take a walk.”

A little bit of honesty but a careful side-step of her other job and the work she’d done in the time between closing and going home.

“What about you? Just getting done with work or taking a walk for other reasons?”

Hades paused a moment, before looking up at Tinley again. “Any reason you couldn’t sleep, or just one of those nights?” 

She nodded as he talked about adding color to his wardrobe, pleased to find that she’d been on the money in setting these aside for him. “Right. You don’t want to be tacky, but you don’t want to be boring either. It’s a hard balance to strike.” She held the box out to him with a flourish. “These should help.”

Haneul examined the scarves, his eyes lighting up. The colours, the texture, the way the silk felt in his hands - Tinley had really nailed it. “These are perfect,” he said and nodded, lifting one more scarf out of the box to examine. “This emerald one especially. I have a jacket it’ll fit beautifully with.” He mused, already assigning each scarf to a piece of clothing he already owned. “How much do you want for them?” he asked Tinley, reminding himself not to get ahead of himself before he had a price. “I know we’re friends, but don’t undersell it. I know what silk is worth.” 

Well, technically speaking, Lorcan hadn't signed up for any of this. He was forced into it the same way Haneul might be if they didn't produce a solid excuse for getting him out of the mob's books.

"I don't have anything on me, don't worry," Lorcan stayed looking at the paintings on the walls, well aware of how twitchy the other man was getting at where they stood, "I'm not trying to cause trouble, man, and I'm really sorry. I wouldn't have come knocking if I had a choice in it. But if you're not buying for me anymore, you'll want to keep an eye out for Hook, or I dunno, maybe Pan. The others who are gonna try to reel you back in." Lorcan didn't think his bosses would do the dirty work themselves, but you never know, "They don't tell you this when you start, but they make it hard to quit. Not just the dust, all of it."

“I appreciate the warning,” he said once they were deeper into the gallery. His fingers traced along the edge of a nearby pedestal, needing to feel it under his touch to ground himself. “Though, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it.” Honestly, with the situation being what it was it was  hard to imagine how he was going to get away from the scene all together. This also added a whole new layer of anxiety to the situation. 

With another sigh, Haneul rubbed a hand over his face. “Aren’t you here on their behalf? Can’t you tell them I’m not here? I changed my name, you know, they won’t know, will they?” He said hopefully, wracking his brain in hopes to find something that could sound like a way out. “You can say Howl is dead, it’s technically true, Howl Pendragon isn’t actually here anymore.” 

"Actually, I'd prefer you didn't," She didn't need to be going home smelling like smoke in front of her daughters. If Haneul thinks it's rude, hopefully he'd forgive her.

"I'm not sure if all those questions need answers to them, at least, right now. People be talented and loud and people can love both the art and the artist. It think it's a little dangerous to begin thinking there is nothing of you still here, or that there was nothing of you within your past," If Harriet were to turn inwards and reflect on some of her worst moments, even she could acknowledge that she was always a whole person, including when making bad choices.

"There's a sort of fallacy that comes when people can't reason the good and bad within themself. A red herring that has you thinking there is a separation within one person - past and present, real and fake - when really you are a whole self, and you have always been a whole self. You are a person with mind to reason and a heart to love, and you always have been, no matter what you've had to learn."

The concept of a whole self felt foreign after spending so long thinking of himself as fractured. The person he used to be, versus the person he was now, the performance versus whatever was underneath. “I’m not sure I know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he crossed one leg over the other, and his arms protectively crossed in front of him. “Think of myself as whole, I mean. It’s easier to divide it up, you know? Blame the pixie dust for the bad parts, credit talent for the good. Keep them… separate.” He looked down at his hands, the same hands that used to create art, but also reached for something that would destroy him. “If I accept that it was all me, I have to accept that I am capable of both, and that’s not something I think I can do.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, before looking in her direction, his eyes not meeting hers. “What if the person who created such beautiful  art, and the person who destroyed everything are the same? What if I can’t be one of them without the other? It’ll be a cycle until it eventually… well, ends… so to speak.” 

But now that she was standing in a room full of people she didn't know, who all seemed acquainted with each other, she was regretting not starting somewhere easier. Or neglecting to make that resolution at all.

Watching everyone chatter around her before the start of the meeting, she stood alone by the refreshment table, nibbling on a dry and crumbly grocery store cookie with an oddly chemical aftertaste. If she came back for next week's meeting, she would do them all a favor and pick up something from The Crumb Trail.

When she noticed another person standing near the table, she saw it as her perfect opening. "Hi, there," she said, but the rest of her greeting flew from her mind once the man turned around and she realized who it was: the mayor of Godscobh himself.

Clearing her throat, she attempted to recover from her shock and actually say something to him now that she had his attention. "Mayor Zika. I didn't realize you attended this club." Not a great opening, but it was better than staring silently at him in wide-eyed surprise.

@mortalrelics

Some of the other members did tiptoe a little around him, so he tried his best to strike up conversations, but he was extremely bad at small talk, apparently. “Just trying to find a group of people to geek out about my favourite books with.” He said with a playful smile. “Sometimes I like to read things that aren’t zoning ordinance or budget proposals, you know?” He added with a smile. 

“I see we are both brave enough to sample the refreshments, though,” he nodded, gesturing to the snacks in their hands. He wondered if maybe he should make a mayoral decision to only have home made goods at these things, though that sounded about as risky as the store bought ones. “Is this your first time at the bookclub?” He hoped she would jump on his awful attempt at small talk, so he wouldn’t be the awkward one in the corner once again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” 

She’d finished up her work for the Lost Boys and headed home a few hours ago, and she’d tried, she really had made a genuine effort to go to sleep, but she’d just ended up pacing her small apartment until it felt like the walls were closing around her.

So there she was, yet again, walking the streets at night, when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around, all of the self-defense she’d learned over the years immediately moving to the top of her mind, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep at night and instead found themselves walking the streets of Godscobh, and though she would never have expected it, she’d begun to enjoy their nighttime talks.

“Hades,” she said in greeting. “Fancy seeing you here at this totally normal hour. How’s it going?”

@mortalrelics

He glanced at the empty storefronts they were passing. The quiet of the night made the town feel a little eerie, though Hades found it more peaceful than unsettling. He preferred the quiet streets, Tinley’s company was welcome, however. He turned his gaze back to her. “What’s kept you in the store so long, anyway? I don’t imagine it’s open this late, is it?” He questioned her, tilting his head slightly. 

Haneul Pendragon, one of her favorite customers. She always appreciated when a customer had good style (it was practically impossible to stay quiet when the fashionably challenged made horrible selections) and Haneul had some of the best in Godscobh.

Still riding off the buzz of fixing the radio, she jumped up from her workstation, an excited smile on her face. “Haneul! I put aside these amazing silk scarves that came in last week,” she said, reaching for the box she’d stored under her desk.

@mortalrelics

“Tinley, darling,” he said, his smile becoming real for the first time all day. “You’re an absolute angel. I was hoping you might have found something special.” He moved toward her workstation, automatically straightening his posture as more of his usual confidence returned. This was a safe space, where he could appreciate beautiful things with someone who truly understood. “Silk scarves?” He said, with interest. “You know me so well. I’ve been trying to add some colour to my wardrobe without looking like I’m trying too hard.” 

His eyes followed her movements as she reached for the box, eager to see what she had found. He trusted her taste, after all. 

"Look, boss knows you're back in town, and he's a little disappointed to lose your business. Told me to come down here and, I dunno, scare the daylights out of you or something. But I would feel like such a dick doing that," Plus, not really his business - everyone had their fair choice to get involved with pixie dust or not. Lorcan knew what it was like to have that privilege revoked.

"So... I'll tell him you're not making the money you used to? Or you've got more body guards now and he should watch out?"

Haneul’s gaze flicked towards the entrance, and he suddenly realised just how exposed they were. Anyone could walk in. The sliver of reputation he still held felt like it was hanging by a thread. “Look, I definitely don’t have that kind of money anymore. This job barely covers my rent, let alone…” He gestured helplessly around the gallery. “Tell him whatever you want. That I’m broke, or dead in a ditch somewhere. I don’t want trouble, and I can’t go back to that.” He chewed on his lip, his fingers brushing over the pocket lining of the blazer he was wearing. He was trying to stay clean, he wasn’t prepared for temptation to be walking through the door like this, though. 

Adam looks up and gives Haneul a pleasant smile.

"Thank you. I wouldn't know. Was replying to an inane work email."

He steps inside and looks around at the new layout and art on display for the gallery.

"How's your morning been?" he asks, distracted as he walks up to a sculpture a few steps in front of him.

“Was there something in particular you were after today?” 

"You know, what you're describing isn’t unusual. We all build personas to navigate the world, and I see it a lot in those with high pressure, high visibility careers," Harriet hummed against her glass, being reminded of all the stages of removal she had to go through just to get here, "But the self is not static. And the fact that you’re questioning it now? That shows growth. Most people never even get to that point."

There's another thing to say about how Hanuel probably couldn't discern his reality very well while struggling with addiction, but that didn't feel productive to bring up. He was probably already thinking about it anyways, "There's stages of development that we go through at every age, to develop a sense of identity and our role in the world. As we have new experiences, we develop our sense identity through being conscious of the self. But in your case... Well, shall I say, you weren't particularly lucid during those years."

Haneul’s fingers traced the rim of his glass. “The worst part is that I can’t even tell how much of what I remember from those years was real. Did people actually admire my work, or were they just humouring someone who was clearly falling apart? Did they enjoy my art, or my downfall? Was I talented, or just loud?” He let out a shaky breath, finally looking back at Harriet. “And now what? I’m left trying to build an identity from scraps of memories and a job that feels more like charity than anything.” 

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"I'm handling it just fine, I think. It's a pleasure for me, in fact, to not have to deal with it anymore," Her ex-husband being the 'it' in question, "I think they're still young enough that flying on planes is a fun little adventure. When they're a little older, they can choose who they want to stay with."

And Harriet's lawyers would be working their asses off making sure that would be with her. The red head might've been one of the only single mothers in her social group, but she wore the title with pride and would fight tooth and nail to keep her children.

"The most stressful part is the paperwork. You're lucky to not deal with it."

He tilted his head slightly and studied her carefully. There had been a hint of defensiveness in her words that didn’t go unnoticed by Hades, but he didn’t comment on it. He wasn’t really here to make things worse, or to create more drama in any capacity. “Flying on planes is a great adventures, though, don’t you think?” He added with a soft smile towards the girls before turning back to Harriet. "What else has been keeping you busy? Or is custody stuff taking up most of your headspace these days?"