(no subject)

[holdingacat]

Cecil cautiously opens the door, the wary set of his shoulders relaxing when nothing shrieks on the other side. He was pretty sure his apartment was empty but... well.

It never hurts to make sure.

Especially when you're bringing a friend.

Assured that if anything has gone astray since he left it is only because of the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In His Home, he pushes the door fully open and holds it open, smiling.

"Welcome to Night Vale - and please ignore the mess, I've tried keeping the books on their shelves but... you know how it is." He offers with a shrug, having long-ago given up on keeping the (Council-approved) books off the floor. They are scattered across the living room (it is an artistic pattern, very meaningful if you happen to be an old woman. Especially if you have no face). Otherwise, it is a fairly standard apartment - a living room, with a fuzzy couch, and an old television, and an even older cabinet radio; a kitchen that is reasonably tidy and with all reflective services carefully hidden away; a bloodstone circle kept conscientiously clean; and a window out onto Old Town Night Vale, kept conspicuously clear of obstruction.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

"I don't know that kind of dance. Would you show me?"

[holdingacat]

She brightens precipitously, even as a nearby teacher groans. It's too late, however, the scales of fate have been tipped. The one-child wreaking ball first shoves a startled Cecil over, and then plows into her classmates with a ruthlessness unexpected in one so tiny.

"Seems her vocabulary classes are going well." Cecil muses from the pavement, over the sounds of children yelping.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric can't help but laugh, reaching down to help Cecil up. "A very passionate performer."

[holdingacat]

"She's sure to be quite a hit - literally." Cecil agrees, wry, as he dusts off his pants. "Let's make a break for it before she makes a full lap."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric giggles and bounces on, offering Cecil his arm. "Lets."

[holdingacat]

Cecil loops his arm through while keeping a wary eye on the tiny human cannonball - no doubt that child will have a fantastic future in the high school football team.

Across the street, a Ralphs' illuminated sign flickers on. The parking lot is fairly abandoned, though there appears to be a hole in the middle.

There's humming coming from the hole.

Cecil considers the path onward, squints at something down the road, and makes a turn. Ahead, the grounds crew for City Hall has already laid out the velvet drapes.

"The City Council must be wanting to leave early tonight." Cecil muses, an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind - he hasn't heard of any disasters looming (and generally he knows, he has to, right?), but... well. It pays to keep a close eye on the City Council.

Circumspectly, of course.

(OOC: Sorry, I return! I blame the Sheriff's Secret Police.)

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans into Cecil, following his eyeline. "The building is rather impressive."

[holdingacat]

"It's certainly... something." Cecil agrees, unable to pick from the various descriptors a favorite word. With multiple stories and dark facing, it's hardly something the eye skips over. With its importance to the town, being the center of local government, its usefulness cannot be understated. As the home of both the Department of Re-education and of the City Council, the sense of foreboding it elicits knows no depths.

But the tulips outside, in their raggedy unkept bed, are cheerful. And the statues near the door, incredible life-like statues in clear glass boxes, depicting two Scouts in full regalia are... really lifelike.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric seems to ignore the foreboding and pauses to admire the tulips.

[holdingacat]

Cecil isn't worried.

No.

Maybe a bit... concerned.

Just a little.

He keeps a wary eye on the groundsmen who are setting out the velvet drapes, and chatters nervously about tulips.

"The women's auxiliary planted those two years ago, did a great job of it, haven't really been back to do any upkeep and it turns out the gardener doesn't know anything about tulips so really it's something of a miracle they're alive at all and they do look rather pretty don't they?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Very pretty." he returns to Cecil's side, happy to be lead. "But then all flowers of their kind are a gentle miracle. Vanishing into the soil only to rise again as the sun warms the soil." he turns his face up to the sun. "And this place wouldn't lack for warmth."

[holdingacat]

"Noooooo, that is one thing we never lack for. Well, except for those days the sun doesn't rise at all, right? Those days are different." Cecil rambles on, relaxing more the further they get from any exit points of City Hall. Up ahead, at the crossroad, there's an old shop-front with bars across the window.

These bars, however, are inside the window. There's a woman visible, inside, hefting a flamethrower.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric has no context for flamethrowers so does react to the sight, instead he admires the windows of shops along with way. "You said there was a place that sold music?"

[holdingacat]

"Mmm, Dark Owl Records - we passed it a little ways back. We can stop in on the way back to the apartment. I should pick up that Guthrie album before Michelle gives in to temptation and smashes it, or something." It's the risk one takes, ordering non-Michelle-approved records at Dark Owl.

Cecil turns, and up ahead is the bright red and white neon sign for the Arbys.

Above it are mysterious floating lights, glimmering in the early evening sky.

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh yes, of course. I look forward to hearing it." He looks up at the lights, smiling warmly. "Fireflies?"

[holdingacat]

Cecil blinks, owlishly, at Sinric.

"Who..." He starts, sounding completely bewildered. "Who sets flies on fire?"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs softly. "No-one. They're insects that glow in the darkness." he points up at the lights. "I wondered if that's what they are."

[holdingacat]

Cecil raises an eyebrow at the explanation, because... well. He's heard some weird things in his time, but glowing insects?

"Noooo... I don't think so." He tries to make it a serious-sounding answer, smothering the giggles (glowing bugs, hee!) but...

Well.

He tries, anyway.

"Have you known a lot of glowing insects?" He asks, as they turn another corner. Down the road, a broadcasting antenna reaches up into the sky. Closer by is the friendly neon of the Moonlite All-Nite Diner, a building that doesn't look like they bothered to update the decor since the '50s.

[thewidewideworld]

"In the Venad kingdom, at the end of the season of monsoons. They would rise from the grasslands like little stars of green. It was beautiful to behold." Sinric doesn't seem to notice Cecil's disbelief.

[holdingacat]

Cecil wonders if this is the same place Sinric claims to have seen mountains, but... well. It's mean to tease people about their delusions. Mountains aren't real, after all. So he shoulders open the door to the Moonlite All-Nite Diner, his features lit in unearthly green from the neon for a moment before stepping inside. There's a young woman behind the counter, pouring coffee - "Hey there Cecil, Interloper. Take a seat, I'll be right there." - she smiles, then hustles off to deliver her coffee, the branches growing out of her chest swaying with the movement, a few ripe peaches peeking out from between the leaves.

"Cecil. Interloper." There's an older man seated at the counter, sun tanned and rough, his baseball cap declaring his love for the Night Vale Scorpions, briefly nodding his hellos.

"John." Cecil nods back, politely not interrupting the man's communion with coffee and pie.

There is a man who is not short, and a man who is not tall, both quietly sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, both in suits that could fit a little better, both wearing sunglasses indoors. Neither of them call a greeting. Cecil doesn't appear to have seen them. The waitress is serving them both coffee.

There's a woman - too young to be considered old, too old to be considered young - sitting in another booth, tackling a sandwich and a heaping plate of fries. She's dressed professionally, with a press badge similar to Cecil's draped around her neck. There's a pair of highly polished hatchets propped up next to her on the bench.

Cecil motions to a third booth, thankfully empty as far as can be determined.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric watches the peach with open fascination, answering each greeting with a warm and happy smile. "Hello."

He cranes to admire the hatchets. "Lovely axes. Very shiny."

He takes a seat, still craning about. He's clearly taking in all the strange and wondrous things. "What do you like best to eat here?" He ask Cecil.

[holdingacat]

The woman smiles, and it's a professional smile one expects to see plastered in an ad somewhere. Except... except. Except there's a feral edge that isn't quite right. She pulls out a notebook and scribbles to herself, narrating her note as she writes.

"Interloper... appreciates... journalistic rigor..." She mutters. Cecil looks wary (he's never been personally effected by her rampages, but it's still a memorable event none-the-less) but takes his seat.

"Well, I think the strawberry pie is quite good, and the coffee's not bad, really. They make an invisible pie, supposedly one of the best in Night Vale. But there's loads of things - salads and sandwiches and breakfast foods... err. I know that back in the bar there were... well..." He leans across the table to whisper. "Wheat and wheat byproducts."

He thumps back into his seat, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the two suited and sunglass-wearing patrons.

"But of course we don't have any of that here."

[thewidewideworld]

"As much as invisible pie is intriguing, it's winter where I've come from and the allure of strawberries is powerful indeed."

[holdingacat]

The waitress bustles up, pot of coffee in hand.

"Now, I already know you want some of this, dear," She states assuredly, even as Cecil flips over the mug in front of him and scootches it in her direction. "And would you be having some too, honey?" She asks Sinric as she pours, quick and efficient.

[thewidewideworld]

"Please? I would love some." He mirrors Cecil's gesture, turning the mug. "I don't drink much coffee but I would love to try yours."