#touchofpara

Daejun generally hated the heat, preferring to stay inside his air conditioned, organized space than to brave its inescapable rays. He had no issues spending his summer quietly entertaining himself talking to clients, or tending the garden after dusk or before dawn. It was lazy, certainly, but he figured that he deserved a while to just be himself, alone, rearranging his furniture or hunting for cat trees and toys that didn’t clash with the cool-toned gray aesthetic the place held. He didn’t mind the inactivity. He liked to think he was recharging his darker side. One of these days, he’d stumble into a plan to end all plans, settle back into his devilish role, but for now, deep-cleaning the place was the height of excitement. 

He handled solitude with minimal restlessness, but Gremory was another story. The damn creature stuck to him like a second skin, always around his ankles, or on his thighs, or curled up around his head during the night. He tried to make her sleep in her own bed, he really did, but she had a terrible habit of ignoring his commands when it was convenient for her, acting like she’d suddenly gone deaf and blind and could only cling to him harder and purr louder. Although, her presence was actually soothing on the days he woke up groggy, separate from reality, or from nightmares of being underground. Feeling dead was difficult to do with tiny black goblin claws kneading his neck and meowing like a thousand-year-old river monster. 

In fact, she was so devoted to staying by his side, when he left the house for a walk, she’d follow (don’t ask him how she got out, because he still didn’t know), silent, yet cheerfully trotting along. The first few times, he didn’t even realize until she got tired and cried loud enough that he turned around, which of course meant he had to carry her all the way back before continuing, and she’d come running again only to get under his feet in a high stakes game of chicken which he had yet to win.

It was frustrating. She was quite the escape artist when she felt like moving. Daejun just wanted peace, and freedom to actually do what he set out to do when he went out in public. If she wanted to come with him so badly, she could, he just wished she’d act more... normal. Though, to be fair, he had no idea how cats were meant to act, so maybe this was natural?

His solution, until he could teach her to stay put, was to bring her along in a tiny harness and leash, and a small cat-sized sling he strapped to his chest (just in case he needed to keep her close while using both his hands) (nobody had actually attacked him while he was out with her so far, but it was better to be safe than sorry in these situations, plus it made him feel something... important, maybe? Needed? She never minded his overprotectiveness, and in fact, the few times he’d actually put her there when there were loose dogs around, she’d never been so smug or content), allowing her to retreat onto his shoulders and rest there when she grew tired. It was good exercise for her as well, because the most she did otherwise was bat around a few toy mice and launch herself at him from anywhere and everywhere, including the floor, the fridge, his cupboards, and once, from a precarious perch on top of his bedroom door. She was just lucky he caught her every time. It provided some well-needed stimulation to her and kept him from turning completely to stone.

Of course, the problem with this arrangement was that Gremory loved people as much as Daejun despised them, and she’d abandon him in the blink of an eye to stop in front of passers-by, padding straight into their path and burble-chirp in excitement until they either cooed and petted her, or exposed themselves as a coward and gave her hairless body and glowering, scar-faced owner a yellow, disgusted glance before hurrying away. Daejun hated when people touched her without his approval, but he despised it even more when they fled. Neither he nor Gremory should have to suffer their judgement.

So in an effort to escape both the day’s punishing rays and human contact, he took to walking at night, armed with the silver blade holstered safely under the black sweats covering his calf. They didn’t go anywhere particularly dangerous, sticking to the sidewalks of the residential area and 24-hour gas station linked with a fast food restaurant, never more than a few miles from home, avoiding any parks or areas associated with cult activity. He also felt much more badass being active after dark, recalling with vivid detail when he was practically nocturnal, out dealing, fulfilling wishes, and gathering information well past the witching hour ended like any drug lord should. Walking a cat so she didn’t get sunburned was, admittedly, less thrilling, but the cool air put adrenaline back in his veins again. 

The two of them had just reached the gas station, where Daejun would typically buy a water bottle and rest before turning back, the graveyard workers long past being surprised when he came by with the cat perched on him like Pinocchio's missing conscience. It was almost unheard of for anyone else to show up there so late, which was why tonight, a presence at the pump outside put him on his guard. 

Some kid with hair that stood straight up in a neat, stylish peak, slender body covered by a leather jacket, was standing around filling his death trap of a bike up with gas. Though his back was turned to them, Daejun kept his distance, prepared to leave just as silently as he’d come, unwilling to risk an encounter that could possibly cause harm to Gremory. 

Gremory, though, had other plans, because she left the safety of his shoulder, trotting towards the guy and going so far as to hop onto the seat of the motorcycle and pose like she was oh so pitifully starved for attention (she wasn’t) one paw lifted and slightly outstretched in a dramatic plea. She let out a hearty beast-noise in greeting, not too loud, but demanding and out of place in the still night.

The Electronics Repair Shop - exactly what it said on the tin.

Her navigating app had taken her to a place she'd passed by plenty of times before, but never quite noticed. Another one of those odd little stores tucked into the nooks and crannies of buildings, spaces that didn't quite fit them or their demands but came close enough that you wouldn't notice. Just like a town didn't quite fit or strike the right tune, but managed to pretend most of the time, enough to lull you into treating it like any other town. But what normal town would have its denizens skipping off to greener pastures like rats fleeing a sinking ship? And worse, what did it say about her that she was still there? Hell, the fact that she was getting maudlin over that was just further proof of the worst case of pre-birthday blues since she'd turned eighteen.

Her phone beeped faintly as a battery warning appeared, and Eloise sighed to herself, dimmed the screen and tucked it back into her pocket. Way to keep her mind on track, phone. For once, helping her focus rather than being a distraction - but much like a neglected pet, the phone knew what it needed, as if it could sense on some level that its salvation wasn't far off.

[txt] I'm going in. If you don't hear from me in one hour, I've either been transformed into a robot by some kind of sentient monster made of a thousand charger cables, or waylaid by the most persuasive salesman ever. She hit 'send', even knowing Brett was tied up at work and wouldn't be responding anytime soon. Right now, though, she needed that - that sense of connectedness technology brought. How had the phone ended up in her hands again? Maybe it was true what they said about Millenials after all.

She scrolled through her contacts almost by reflex and hesitated at the profile pictures of an irritatingly cheekboned British professor, of a wide-eyed woman's face mostly obscured by a disrguntled-looking cat in a kimono. New York. Might as well have moved to a slab of rock in the middle of the goddamn Pacific, for how 'connected' she felt right now. Some tiny uncharted island that had never even heard the word 'wifi', let alone experienced its tender, electronic embrace. Remote. Distant. Practically a huge 'Do not disturb' sign on the proverbial door.

You couldn't fault people for doing what was right by them, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Eloise tucked her phone out of reach once again. Focus on small problems, achievable goals. If she could do one thing today, it would be fixing her phone charger. That was a useful, adult accomplishment, and one that would yield immediate benefits. Ease the edge in Brett's expression whenever she went out to feed, for one. After all, if something like that happened again, there'd be no one to bail her out who wasn't several states away.

"Hi, I was looking for a new charger for my phone? Mine's no good and I can barely get my phone to charge at all, so I was wondering if...." The smile had slipped on as easy as slipping into a glove, and so had the forced cheeriness in her voice, to the point where Eloise was already three steps inside the shop before she noticed three things: How dusty it was, how unpopulated it was, and the fact that the door had been ajar in the most unwelcoming manner possible. She hesitated amidst the piles, castles and exotic fortresses of electronics and gadgets and knick-knacks, some in boxes and some without, only now properly taking a look around. "...Hello?" she asked sheepishly, and peered around for the owner. Hopefully, she hadn't just committed breaking and entering in broad daylight - she did rather prefer to do that on purpose.

6/1/16 - Fiona comes over to help clean Ember up.

Fiona had found a Nick Drake record she wanted to leave at Miles’s office over at the Scribe HQ since she didn’t want to go to UMAC because it was in shatters apparently. She left it on his desk without a note, she would text him later as she looked around the tall ceilings and re-building of the structure. There were whispers in the halls, of those passed but she tried not to indulge them too much afraid she’d get distracted with their stories. She was half tempted to peek into Brett’s office to ask him if he wanted to go for hot chocolate until a voice caught her off guard almost tilting her over. “Ashlyn!” the ghost with wispy blond hair said, round specs over her face with a bright smile said. Fiona looked at the ghost and hands slammed over her mouth. “You can hear me?”

“Loud and clear, babes, you need to calm down a little,” Fiona said whispering, treating the Scribe HQ like a library that it seemed to be more than anything else. The blonde ghost smiled behind her hands, putting on weight of her foot on the other in a little dance. “And see you, happy feet. What’s going on?” Fiona asked almost restlessly. The ghost pointed to the girl with brown hair who seemed to be looking for something, peering at the shelves as if she could see through them. Fiona looked back at the ghost as if not gathering the information. “She your daughter…?” Fiona’s eyebrow quirked up as she made a face. “No, she… was reborn, I know her. She was Ashlyn.”

“Nice story, I’m going to go…” Fiona pointed towards the exit. Rebirth? Really? Really?

“No, no! Please! Please? She needs to find her notes! Look at her she looks like a lost little bird not knowing how to fly!” the blonde said pointing to the other brunette with her two hands. Fiona rolled her eyes as she walked over to the young woman. Or child. Or next coming of whatever. She offered her a bright smile, “Hi. I’m Fiona.”

Cemeteries were not scary places for Fiona, they were the opposite of what people thought for her. Silent, creepy, dark. Alright, it was dark but not silent or creepy for her. Rebecca had told her not to go on her own and as far as she was concerned she wasn't with her ghostly friends at her side. Although that was cheating but Fiona was not actively going after it but trying to find a pattern of what was going on.

The medium’s dark locks were braided to the side to keep her hair from her face as she had a messenger bag at her side with all the materials needed to handle creepy crawling ghosts that didn’t want to play nice. “So, is this the normal life of a secret exorcist? Because this feels a little… Buffy-ish,” Erin remarked standing beside her. Fiona’s brown eyes cornered at the redheaded ghost, “Ha ha.” Fiona’s laugh was dry in response, her expression nearly emotionless. “No, most of the time it’s a lot of reading and avoiding the baddies,” without thinking she rubbed the anti-possession tattoo on the back of her neck. She had read having as many possible to avoid that kind of threat but she didn’t know what other symbol to add and when it would be obvious to what she was doing to those she was keeping it from.

“So you’re more of a Giles? Supernatural? Hmm?” Erin continued questioning. “Uh, I don’t know I don’t watch a lot of CW to be quite honest, no offense. Also, Scribes are more of a Giles kind of person but they’re a larger group,” Fiona explained.

“WHAT?” Erin shouted as if confused. “What-wait, are like… there’s more in supernatural? You kept this from me!” Erin shrieked in disbelief. Fiona’s nose wrinkled, “We weren’t that close and you can’t just tell people this-”

There was a stack of books she needed to exchange for another stack of books from Nigel. It was best to do it now as she had a feeling she was going to be house bound at Rebecca’s until her condition had cleared up. She had driven to ‘Murder Cabin’ with the wild looking exterior that screamed ‘fuck off’ without it being painted in blood on the door. Fiona didn’t immediately exit her vehicle as her touched the pendant of her necklace with the twin spine and skulls. It had been a while she had seen any vision of herself speaking in hollow whispers of her possible deaths but then again things felt like they were falling apart in some aspects.

She missed Miles. Fuck, that was stupid, he was coming back but she kept thinking if she was him she’d never come back if that was an option. Just leave and maybe reconsider all decisions made but it was too late. Fiona couldn't because Leroy wouldn’t leave and because Rebecca was here. Bad choice in getting attached there, Fiona, should have stuck making besties with ghosts because they at the least vanished.

Slowly she gathered all the books she had to pile them in order to then gather them within her arms before exiting carefully. Holding the books reminded her of invading the mental hospital’s library while discreetly looking over books about ghosts if there ever any, replacing the book jackets with self help books to avoid questions from the doctors and nurses. Trying to gather a better understanding of what it was that she was managing besides a deep sense of longing and depression while avoiding certain colored pills because they either made her sleep too much or too little. It was the little schooling that she had of what she was now for the rest of trail and error on her own. This was the first time in her life that she felt like she had any guidance.

Every day she wondered when she was going to fuck that up to be honest.

Fiona knocked on the door and waited, almost half expecting for Nigel to answer it with rifle ready. It was really astonishing to her that the two got along at all at times.When he did open the door she held the books up, “I am done with these. Also I’m staying with Rebecca for the week as she recovers” she informed him bluntly with a dull sound in her voice. Fiona was tired from the actions of the day and handling people. Regan had managed to get a rise out of her and she was still trying to calm down from it. It was best to get let it go but the medium kept remembering she might come on Monday although the Medical Examiner didn’t seem like the confrontational type. No, she was the destroy your property type. “It’s good to see you didn’t grow any extra heads.”

Fiona didn’t do favors for strangers so when she had agreed upon helping the medical examiner ‘investigate’ the so-called ‘ghost pirate’ in the Bottomless Booty she had brought Erin one of her camera people. They were there early because Fiona was leaving that night but also they wanted to be alone in the ghost without interrupting any of the patrons. At first the owner was hesitant over the phone about opening it early for them to tape but Fiona had given him a the whole spiel, “Think of it as free marketing, people will come to see if the ghost is real or not with the simple charge of a meal and a beverage” she had told him in her most idealistic tone. He was convinced and so the two people were waiting for the medical examiner to appear while sitting at one of the booths.

The medium was reading there while Erin with her long red hair pulled in a braid was texting or on social media. Fiona had been doing this for years, talking to ghosts, convincing them to let go but it was another thing to be convinced to go somewhere haunted by a non-believer. There was something about Dr. Spooky’s tone that irked Fiona if only a little bit, as if all of them were playing pretend and she happened to be the only true adult in the whole damn city. Then again Fiona was basing this on purely internet interaction from what she saw.

“What are you reading?” Erin asked to then notice at the words on the page were not infact English to squint through her round glasses. Erin was a tall, thin woman who by Fiona’s standards should be modeling clothes instead of doing camera work but the redhead didn’t seem to care. Fiona flipped the page, “Harry Potter in Latin” half a lie. Fiona was reading Latin but it was not Harry Potter, she had missed that phase entirely in her childhood. A bell rung when the medical examiner finally came in and Erin stood up to gather her equipment which was resting in the booth behind them. Fiona couldn’t help but give Regan a big smile as she got up, walking over to extend her hand. Fiona was dressed for television with a rose blouse and fitted pants, make up done perfectly. Maybe she should have warned there was going to be crew but she had decided why not play it up for the non-believer? “Doctor Sp- Kavanagh? It’s a pleasure to finally meet you” Fiona said enthusiastically to squeeze on the other woman’s hand. “Erin is my camera person, you don’t mind us filming this, do you? For evidence.” she said reassuringly towards her as she nodded. “We have release papers as well if you don’t mind signing them although I am sure we can do this without filming your face, we just want to make sure everything is documented appropriately” she reassured as she took out the paperwork that rested on a booth with a pen. She was curious to know if Dr. Spooky would entertain her with the request or not but  it would be fun to see.

Fiona enjoyed reading but the majority of the books she owned were digitally downloaded into her tablet or phone for easier reading and experience. It was a wonder that she had kept a relationship with both Scribes in her life when they found out these details. She enjoyed light reading, smut novels, anything that made her laugh in reality. Memoirs, comedy tidbits that would make her smirk in delight after dealing with the ghosts of the dead and learning to exorcise. To be honest reading for pleasure was almost gone nowadays for her for most days she fell asleep while reading in Latin until her eyes turned blurry and her head hurt trying to translate the words in English in her head. The light load of her purse became heavier by the day, if it wasn’t Rebecca it was Nigel or Brett with a suggestion of what to read next. She was starting to believe her chiropractor needed to write them each thank you notes for every load of books they gave to her.

Yet despite this she was inside of the bookstore looking up, twisting her mouth wondering what book about languages to give Brett for his birthday. It would have been perhaps thoughtless to give him a gift card but there laid an idle threat in her head that maybe, just maybe she might pick up a book he already owned. The thought weighed heavy in her head as she looked around and opted to go the counter to ask for any suggestions and maybe what their refund policy was.

At the front counter of The Archive Room was a short, animated redhead. Fiona didn’t give her too much thought to be honest but it appeared she was deep in conversation as the medium approached the counter waiting for the redhead and employee to finish talking, the soft whispering of ghosts in her ears attempting to get her attention. The brunette didn’t see the smaller woman move and suddenly Fiona’s glasses were knocked off accompanied by a smack audible to her ears had she not felt the sting on her face. Did she just get hit? In the face? Fiona blinked with the renewed blurry vision as without her glasses or contacts she was mostly nearsighted. Her right hand cupping the side of her face. If Miles preoccupied himself with the thought of exorcism being dangerous he need not worry because apparently day-to-day life set to bruise her just as well.

“Okay, first- OW!” she said turning to look at the redhead with a wide eyed look of disapproval. She looked around for her glasses but as she moved back she heard a loud crunch. It came evident to her that she had now stepped on her glasses. Her eyes closed as the anger bristled through her, gritting her teeth which caused her jaw to tense as she was trying not to express anger in public. The person by the counter perked up in recognizing Fiona without her glasses now, “Hey, it’s Madam Fiona!”