Summary:Erik pays a visit to a New York institution and meets Dead Girl Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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The Store has been a New York institution since the sixties. It's been the set for people fighting for freedom, for civil rights advocates, artists, actors, and anyone who just needs a place to go. These days, Dead Girl isn't as active as she used to be- seeming happy to 'live' her 'life' and do what small good deeds she can.
Today, Dead Girl is behind the counter- laying in a hammock as it sways. She's reading a book, something by Joseph Campbell. Music is playing, a never ending playlist of any kind of music. The smell of fresh coffee is obvious in the Store, coming from the kitchen.
It is a quiet time of day. The store is all but empty. The front door opens, announced by whatever chime might be present, and Erik enters. He wears a light fabric jacket, dark wash jeans, and a button-down, collared shirt. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He pauses just within the door, ensuring it closes behind him, as he casts an eye over the surroundings, familiar at least in broad strokes, though plenty of details have changed in the last 20 or more years since he has set foot inside. It is only after a few moments - or less, if she calls attention to herself - that he turns his gaze to Dead Girl.
Dead Girl looks over as someone enters The Store, smiling brightly. "Hey there!" she says, "Want a coffee?" she wonders next as she goes a bit translucent and floats through the counter and hammock- leaving her book to fall into the netted strings. "It's been quite a while since I've seen you about, hasn't it?" Time is an odd thing to Dead Girl. She looks almost exactly the same as she did in the 60s. New clothes- same girl. "I also have some peanut butter and chocolate pie I've baked. Should be cool enough to eat!"
His eyes turn toward her and narrow about the corners as he offers a smile in greeting. He walks further into the store, the heels of his dress shoes audible on the flooring. "Coffee?" he echoes pensively. Then he withdraws a hand from his pocket, gesturing absently, "Sure, sounds great, if you've got some on the go." He chuckles a little at the offer of pie. "It's a little early for pie, for me," he confesses. "It's good to see you again. I had a feeling you might still be here. I thought I should come in and touch base." Closing in on her, he extends a hand. "I don't know if we ever got a formal introduction. Erik."
"Dead Girl." Dead Girl offers, taking Erik's hand. She is, indeed, a dead girl- her hand is cold. Corpse cold. "I think you were rather busy the last times we met." she says, with a smile. "But everyone is welcome here!" she says, "And I always have coffee. Tea. Beer. I'm working on brewing my own mead." she continues as she guides Erik towards the kitchen, "So! Are you here just to touch base, or were you looking for something in particular?" One can never be sure- Dead Girl, after all, has rather unique powers dealing with the dead.
He doesn't shirk away from the contact, nor do his features express surprise at her temperature. He chuckles and nods. "Wouldn't really have wanted to dally in a welcoming place such as this. I seemed to attract some collateral damage in those days." That's putting it mildly, in the days of active mutant-hunting to enforce registration. "Oh, no, nothing in particular brought me in. I still am to serve mutantkind. To lend my support where it is needed, however it might be needed. The need for active resistance is, perhaps, passed for the moment, but it remains important for us to support one another and elevate us all." He pauses for just a moment before bringing the point home. "You might hear of those who need help. I thought I should tell you of my availability and desire to assist my brothers and sisters."
"Well. As long as you can promise not to lead the people you want to help into some of that old school collateral damage, I'd be glad to." Dead Girl offers- fully aware of Erik's (in)famous history. "But, I'm glad you're helping people, still. We all need to help each other." Dead Girl smiles- she's friendly as she goes to make a coffee for Erik, "Milk? Cream? Sugar?" she wonders, looking over her shoulder, "Are you sure you're not hungry? I can make something for you. I love to cook." she admits, "Food is a fantastic way to bridge gaps, I've found, for the living at least." Dead Girl looks quietly towards Erik- not at him. Around him. She's clearly looking at *something*- focused on *someone*. "You carry the ghosts of the past with you, Erik." she notes, albeit without judgement. "That's not unusual for a man of your talents and history… however, if you ever want to put some of them to rest. Let me know. I'd like to help them, and help you."
Erik smirks and nods once. "Provided the government continues as it has been, I don't see any need for violent resistance," he notes, trailing along behind Dead Girl as she goes to fix his coffee. To the question about coffee, he answers, "Milk is fine, thank you. And no, no food for me. I can't put away food like I used to." His brows knit slightly as the conversations delves into the paranormal. He doesn't bother look around him, he knows well enough he won't see what she sees. "I wasn't aware," he notes. Pausing for just a beat, thoughtfully, he asks, "Can you tell who they are? And, yes, if they would be better put to rest - if they would want to be put to rest, I suppose - it would be best."
"Yes." Dead Girl says, as she makes the coffee- a touch of milk from the fridge, and puts the mug down for Erik at the table. She makes herself a coffee after that, and sits at the kitchen table. A well loved, solid wood thing. The sort of thing passed down through families. "I know who they are. They speak… I can show you them, if you want." she offers, "But- that's not always what the living want to see." she admits, a word of warning.
"It can be difficult to see again those you've lost who are attached still to you. But.. it's a connection that goes both ways, you see. They found you through the vastness of the afterlife because you are a beacon to them, just as you were in life- for good or ill." she further explains.
Dead Girl is known, at least to those who ask, as one of the world's most knowledgeable necromancers- and being dead herself, she has a very different outlook on the use of those powers. "It is, ultimately, better for both parties to put old ghosts to rest, though. It would represent a healing for both parties."
Erik settles himself at the table with the ease of someone who has sat there many times before. He quirks a brow faintly, listening attentively to what Dead Girl has to say, though he remains without any outward display of disquiet, even at the subject of those connected to him lingering after death, in need of help.
He inhales slowly, sipping at his coffee as he ruminates. Finally, he declares, "Anyone who died on the side of right deserves the help, if you say it will do them good. Anyone who died on the side of wrong has already made account in dying. I like to think we get a clean slate afterward." He takes another sip and his lips quirk upward slightly at an inward thought, which he then shares. "Maybe it says something that *I* think that," he observes.
"It is perhaps unfortunate that we do not get to decide when our slate is clean." Dead Girl replies. Her eyes glow bright- like the balefires of the underworld, an angry red. The world around them gets colder. Much colder- Erik may notice his breath turn to fog for the moment as all those ghosts- friends and foes- become visible to him. Some still bare the scars of their deaths, if particularly painful or gruesome. Others are as they were in life. All, for now, are silent. All facing Erik and Dead Girl.
"Just as you are the Master of Magnetism, and so connected to our living brothers and sisters; I am the caretaker of those who have left- regardless of geneframe. Once you are dead, it doesn't matter any more. All that matters is moving on to the next step- wherever that may be."
"However, it is a two way street. Both parties must be ready to sever the connection." Dead Girl explains, even as the faces of the long dead fade and the warmth returns to the room as she releases her ability to thin the barrier between life and death.
The silent, spectral Greek chorus comes into sharp relief for Erik. He doesn't shrink back from the cold, enduring the discomfort as the price of admission. He looks around slowly, not daring to avert his eyes, not wanting to not look, even if looking wasn't much better.
here are ranks of emaciated shapes, drawn and skeletal, in tattered, striped uniforms, mostly bearing crudely cut, yellow stars of david sewn on. Some had inverted triangles in red or pink or green in place. All were gaunt nearly beyond human endurance - or, for some, beyond those limits, explaining their appearance here.
There were ranks of silent, grim 'ordinary folk' in the style of dress over decades. Victims and bystanders and those who blamed Magneto for their deaths. There were those clad in spandex or tactical gear, mostly bearing the scars of violent daeth - burns, crush injuries, evisceration. With a slow panning of his gaze, Erik took them all in.
When the vision of them was withdrawn, he was a shade or two paler, but he refused to show any controllable sign of emotion at that display. He sipped his coffee with only a slight tremble in his hand. "I left them all behind some time ago," he states after a moment. "Some gladly, some with great sadness and mourning. I wouldn't hold any of them here, not longer than they wish to be here."
"It isn't my place to judge." Dead Girl notes, "Or to guess as to the why. I find out, and I help. I've always helped the living and the dead." she says simply, "My position is unique- even for a mutant." she continues, "And I feel it gives me certain responsibilities. To help those who've moved on, and those who haven't. There is an order to how things are meant to work, and I've always thought the only reason I've been spared that natural order is to help those who aren't able to travel on their own."
Erik nods slowly, solumnity of the event marked in his demeanour. "I wasn't feeling judged," he assures her, taking another steadying sip of his coffee. Whatever impact the spectral vision had on his nerves seems to be quieting now, after the suddennes of the revelation. "Just letting you know - *I'm* ready to sever the connection. If they are too, whatever you have to do to assist them… please feel free to do it."
Dead Girl nods quietly. "It'll take some time." she informs Erik, "We're going to have to go to some places and do some things. There is… ritual involved." she explains, "Nothing truly magical to be honest- apart from my part in it- but don't worry about that." she takes a slow breath, "Do you have something that I can borrow? SOmething important? You will get it back, unharmed, but I need to do some research and an object of emotional importance will allow me to chart the places we may need to visit." she explains.
"I wish I could say it was a quick and easy thing, but the Restless are often creatures of very strong emotions. It really is all they have left to tether them to people."
Erik considers the request with a thoughtful frown. Again, he sips from his coffee as he ruminates on the ask. He seemingly accepts that this will be an involved process without question or complaint, focusing instead on the immediate, practical concern of an object of importance. "I have something," he affirms after a moment. "I don't have it with me, but I can bring it to you in the next few days." He says nothing more on the subject, more introspective for a moment, at least. It was hardly what he expected from 'touching base' with Dead Girl.
Dead Girl smiles- it is a genuine, gentle- almost loving smile. "I'm glad." She offers quietly, "I promise it won't be damaged, and you will get it back. The scrying magics will just let me know the locations where it will be best to release those associated with you. It's.. like resonance." she offers, "I do hope you find comfort once we're finished. This world didn't end up like either of us expected, I think." She admits quietly- this world a far cry from the Hippie Love Everyone future Dead Girl had struggled for herself.
Erik nods once, returning to the present moment from his reverie. His lips quirk upward faintly and he notes, "I hadn't thought I needed any comfort. I'm still not sure what this will do. Maybe I will see improvement in things that I did not know were suffering. But… for the rest, at least, it will be a good deed." He sips his coffee once more and chuckles to her comment about the state of the world. "It's a good thing that it's not as I feared it would be. For now, at least" he declares.
"That is true." Dead Girl replies with that same genuine smile. "Some things are better. Some things are worse. All I know is that I'll be here to watch it all- with hope and joy in my heart."
Dead Girl takes a slow breath- like a memory- she doesn't really need to breath. "Either way they will move on. There is no permanent destination after here. Some go to Heaven, others to Hell, and others yet to more exotic destinations. It's all very interesting- but, I've only ever visited such places." she explains, "My place is still here. There's more good works to do, and people like us- older and hopefully wiser- still have lessons to teach and learn."
"Hopefully," he echoes with a wry smirk. He takes another sip of his coffee, considering her words for a moment. "With the number of gods walking the Earth these days, I expect there's a bit of self-selection to where we go. A Heaven and Hell for those who believe in it, a Valhalla for those who believe in *that*… an interesting existential dilemma." He sets the coffee down before him then - most of it gone - and he heaves a slight sigh. Then he's fishing into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He withdraws a card, which simply has his name, a telephone number, and an address in Mutant Town. He slides that across the table and says, "I'll be back in a few days, of course, but just in case some poor mutant needs me before then."
"I'll certainly let them know. There are also rooms and food available here for anyone who needs them." Dead Girl says, "And a paying job. To help people get on their feet, at least. No background checks, and always open." she continues, "So- we can work together on this task, as well." she says as she takes the card. "It's been wonderful to see you again."
The smile, again, is just so genuine. She's happy to see him, clearly. "I'm glad you are where you are now."
He gives an answering smile, one more reserved in turn than hers, but no less genuine. "You're starting to sound like a very dear, old friend, Dead Girl," he comments lightly before he adds, "And I am glad the world is in a place where I can be as I am. There is much to be done, but promise enough that working within the system will prove effective. As you seem to have known from the beginning." There is a twist in his tone with that, a moment of respect, lightly given. Then he is rising, adjusting his jacket in place once more. "It was good to see you. Perhaps next time I will be a little more equipped to grapple with the large questions that seemed to arise today. Regardless, I look forward to that meeting."
Dead Girl bows her head, "Let me know when you're coming out. I'll make you a nice home cooked meal. Everyone still likes those, right?" she wonders with a grin, "And yes. Very much needs to be done, yet. And I look forward to seeing you again." she stands up quietly, "Thank you for visiting."