fandomtownies | The streets of Fandom, Wednesday

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The streets of Fandom, Wednesday

Roland generally had particular goals when he went out busking, corners where he knew he did well or where the scenery was particularly nice to look at, or routes he'd planned to take through the town to get some good coverage in.

Today he only had one goal: steer clear of the movie theater.

He didn't know why, but that place was giving him the major creeps. Eerie music box plinking at too slow a pace and in a minor key type creeps. Spooky little kid singing type creeps.

Yeeeeee.

He did his best to play something upbeat and lighthearted to counter the lingering creepiness, but kept finding himself doing things like playing "You Are My Sunshine" in a minor key.

Extra yeeeeee.

[ooc: Two for one! Interact with Roland and/OR get creeped out/creeped on by Johnny Bartlett, who I'll ping in when I get the chance!]

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Deal with him frequently peering suspiciously over your shoulder!

So that rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" sounded kind of like what would happen to it if Éponine were singing it. The effect would be equally unintentional, for the record.

She felt no particular impulse to steer clear of the movie theater, not being sensitive to that sort of thing, but it wasn't on her route today anyway. And so far today, she hadn't noticed much out of the ordinary.

"Good day, monsieur," she called when she spotted him, and slowed to a stop. "Have you got any songs a bit more cheerful? There's a few extra dollars for you if you do, and perhaps a coffee, since I was thinking of getting myself one and it's getting colder for people like us to be out and about all day, isn't it?"

Roland sighed faintly. Extra money and coffee? Busker gold mine!

"I'll try," he assured her, and glared a little at his guitar as he adjusted her tuning. "There's sort of an excess of . . . gloom around the island today, apparently."

He took another deep breath, promised the magic he'd just go with it if it could please let him play something cheerful and push away the creepy, and started playing.

Don't Worry, Be Happy.

Okay, then.

"Oh, d'you think so?" asked Éponine, actually interested, as she nodded her head vaguely in time with the music. "Besides the usual sort of winter gloom, that is? I hadn't noticed anything. Only some lights flickering in that house over on the little island the last couple of days, but that's nothing remarkable. Certainly not gloomy, I don't think."

And now she was headtilting and frowning slightly at the song.

The song had actually cleared the air around them a little, enough that Roland managed to smile a little. "There's definitely something Dark going on." Yeah, that got a capital letter in cases like these. "I'm thinking we should be on the lookout for any new evil carnivals or vending machines showing up."

Éponine's eyebrows crept up a touch, because she could almost hear the capital D there.

"It's funny you say that. I was just listening to the song and wondering if perhaps there was something to worry about after all. Maybe it's silly, but I can't help wondering, if someone tells me not to worry, if there's something to worry about and I don't know it yet."

"Well, you seem like the sort who disagrees with what people tell you to do in general," Roland said. "Which around here might be a good instinct to have, sometimes."

Yeah, the eeriness was creeping back in on him again. It wouldn't stay away.

Éponine let out a brief, sharp laugh. "What good did it ever do anyone to jump to do every thing they're ever told, anyhow? That's not the sort of thing that suits me, no, thank you."

She dug into the pocket of her coat and retrieved a crumpled ball of bills -- three ones, a five, and various coins probably wadded up into the middle -- and presented them to him. "But there. That was more cheerful for a while there, that last one, and I did say so, and that ought to leave me enough for a couple of coffees. Perhaps a nice hot drink will make things seem less gloomy?"

For a minute or two, at least. She never expected that sort of thing to last.

"Either way, it's always appreciated," Roland said.

It was getting a bit oppressively creepy again, centered somewhere behind Roland that he almost but not quite was refusing to look at. If he had, he might spot the hooded creature peering curiously at Eponine. And maybe warned her away.

Ah well.

"In that case, don't wander off too far," Eponine told him, with a slight laugh that was her (admittedly somewhat feeble) attempt to dispel some of the gloom -- because now that he'd mentioned it, she was starting to feel like things were a bit off. Then again, that could have been her imagination getting away from her, since it tended to do that. "Sing a few more of your cheerier songs and I'll be back with that coffee in a few minutes."

When she started to hurry off, it didn't occur to her to worry about unwanted attention from unseen beings. Maybe she was starting to get just a touch complacent in Fandom.

Johnny scrabbled up the building to the roof, then leaped to the next one down the line, following Eponine at a distance.

Kill her or woo her? Decisions!

Well, arguably both options were equally tempting.

It didn't take long for her to get to the Perk, since she knew all the quickest routes to get anywhere in town (or the sneakiest, if that was called for). It didn't take long to put her order in, either, but since she'd just had to go and order a caramel macchiato with extra caramel, she had to wait a while for the barista to go and get more caramel out of the storeroom.

Which meant leaning against the counter near the stirrers, humming "Don't Worry, Be Happy" to herself. And yes, since every now and then her voice didn't feel like cooperating, it sounded fairly dismal.

She couldn't see him. That would make wooing slightly harder.

Johnny looked around the cafe for inspiration, then finally snagged one of the grease pencils and a napkin, scribbling out a note and slipping it onto the counter next to Eponine.

You sing good

Real brain trust, this one.

Éponine glanced down after a moment and noted the napkin, then snorted.

"That can't be meant for me," she said to no one in particular (not that this was unusual behavior for her).

Johnny pouted. "Playing hard to get."

Another note: who else?

All right, that made her pause. She might talk to inanimate objects or animals a lot, but she never expected them to talk back. Or . . . write notes back, for that matter. This wasn't usual even by Fandom's skewed standards.

Éponine backed away from the counter a few steps, frowning. How long did it take to get a bottle of caramel syrup out of the storeroom, anyway?

"That'll be enough of that," she muttered in the general direction of the napkin.

Yes, because continuing to talk to the creepy notes was going to make things better.

Napkins weren't that fun, anyway.

How about grease pencil on the display case: you shy?

All right, that was definitely not normal, and Éponine was glancing around the coffee shop for any sign that anyone was playing tricks on her even as the thought occurred to her that she had been, once, when she was little and could afford to be.

"This is because I made you go and fetch the syrup, isn't it?" she called in the general direction of wherever the barista had gone. For all she knew he had powers. She'd never thought to ask.

DON'T LOOK AT HIM

The grease pencil actually screeched, Johnny was pressing it so hard against the glass case. He didn't take well to being ignored.

. . . Yeah, okay, so she wasn't actually able to see him. DETAILS.

See, the sad thing was, she would completely understand that. If, you know, she weren't currently discovering how much Not Fun it was to be on the receiving end of this sort of thing for once.

Éponine snarled something under her breath, a half-coherent string of obscenities in argot, and all but dove across the space between her and the counter for the drinks that were finally done.

She did take a moment to give the barista a nod of thanks, because she'd look at whomever she pleased, thank you very much, creepy writing.

"The hell was that?" Was she speaking in tongues?

Did he want a crazy girl? You know, the non-murderous kind of crazy.

"Eh, you're not even that hot."

~~SIGH, HTML TAG FAIL.~~

Éponine would agree with him on that, except she was too busy getting the hell out of the Perk to spend any more time talking to creepy, creepy thin air.

Oh look. Fresh meat.

Johnny was absolutely thrilled to realize that the island next to the one the con had been on was full of unsuspecting people for him to prey on. He crept along the side of the building behind Roland in his Reaper guise, content for the time being with enjoying stretching his legs.

Or arms.

Or weird wing things. Whatever they were in this form.

Roland paused in between songs as the creep of the day changing from music-box to shrieking-guitar.

That probably wasn't good.

He peered around him as surreptitiously as possible. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, and his fingers clenched around his guitar.

Maybe he shouldn't be out busking today after all.

Johnny froze mid-creep.

Dude could actually sense him? That wasn't fair!

He skulked slowly lower on the building until he was actually behind Roland.

He should probably kill him now. Just on principle. Johnny hated psychics.

Yup, there was definitely something super evil behind him. Roland squeezed his eyes shut, reminded himself that he had survived a whole lot of evil in his day, and then spun around to face it.

Johnny snapped out of the way as Roland turned, staying firmly behind him.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.

Roland heard the snap of some cloth and caught the barest flicker of something out of the corner of his eye as he turned. If he were watching a movie, this would be the part where the music would hold a high, tense vamp of suspense.

Something was seriously about to pounce on him.

Oh. Oh something was indeed.

Johnny grinned wickedly as a red number "41" shimmered into his view on Roland's forehead. Then he leaped.

shotgunblastscreams"gotmeascoreof40""she'stooyoung!"criesformercydrippingbloodblastscream40youngbloodblastscreambloodblastscream

Roland's fingers spasmed on his guitar, his eyes rolling up in his head.

Nonononononono

killkill

"No," Roland said aloud.

this record should be held by an american!

Roland's finger snagged against the E string on his guitar, setting off a clear, piercing note that seemed to vibrate right through his own skull.

OUT.

Johnny fell out the other side, once more in his glowing blue form.

"Huh," he said. "That was new."

Roland was a little too busy hugging his guitar in one hand and clutching his head in the other to pay that much attention.

It was, in fact, very new for him, too.

Johnny yanked his reaper form back over himself and jumped back up onto the building to continue skulking and think this over. He wasn't the most clever of ghosts, but he thought that maybe, if that shit with the guitar hadn't gotten in the way, he might've almost possessed that guy.

Which would mean he could have a body again.

Which opened up all sorts of new possibilities in terms of creative murder.

Aw yeah. This was going to be good.

"Excuse me?" You couldn't say Molly wasn't a polite ghost. And she didn't look too ghostly at this moment, at least. "Could you tell me, what's the quickest way off this island?"

She was also not putting off the same vibes of malevolence that Roland was getting from other places right now.

Though he wasn't quite sure why he now had "House of the Rising Sun" in his head.

"Probably the causeway," Roland said. "Actually I think that might be the only way off the island, unless you have a boat or can fly."

"Ha!" Molly forced herself to laugh, looking more desperate than amused. "Right. Fly. I never had time to learn to pilot or anything." She took a breath she didn't need, and blurted out, "I have to get home. To my husband."

~There is... a house. In... New Orleans... they call
The Rising ... Sun....~

That was going to be in his head all day, now. Assuming it didn't get usurped by Night on Bald Mountain.

"Well, the causeway's the way to go, then. Some folks have cars parked down there if you're in a big hurry. Maybe one of them can give you a ride? Or I think some folks have gotten cabs to pick them up over there."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Molly said fervently, turning towards where she thought she'd seen a parking lot near the water. "I have to get going." She paused, a step away, and something made her say: "Be careful tonight, okay?"

That would have seemed weirder if Roland wasn't already having some serious heebie-jeebies.

"I will. You, too."

For those not sensitive to such things, this might seem kind of like just walking down the street.

But oocly, it'll be spoooooooooky.

Blah, work, blah blah.

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The streets of Fandom, Wednesday

Talk to Roland

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Get haunted by Johnny Bartlett!

OOC