Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night

[oceantier]

Who: Lapis and the residents of Agent Apartment
What: Lapis finds her beach home invaded by ghost hunters, mediums, and general rubberneckers after this article.
When: Night of the day the article comes out, likely late.
Where: The one and only Agent Apartment.



It had been late when she'd returned to the beach, ready to cast off her human guise and settle into the night and the soothing, rushing murmur of the waves.

But what she found was not peace.

The beach was teeming with people -- teenage girls clutching each other and giggling helplessly, daring each other further (along with boys who looked like they'd prefer to be doing the same thing), individuals in the elephantine confines of what looked almost like hazmat suits, waving long metal rods that sounded bursts of static and light, an elderly woman holding what looked like a lit bundle of twigs and leaves, the sharp aroma of it curling upward on the air. Men and women of all ages lounged or traipsed about, looking for all the world like this was some sort of exotic holiday.

"Here!!" An eager onlooker shoved a paper into her hands; she could read it by the glow of the headlights. "Pretty awesome, right? Are you here for the seance too?"

Lapis stared at the paper for several long minutes, a roar in her ears that was not the ocean. Back at the people. Back at the paper.

. . . Silently she turned in place and headed back toward the city.

She arrives at J's apartment even later. She says nothing as she enters, perching on the edge of the couch, the paper dangling from her hand.

Comments

[spokethetruth]

Signless is just waking up at this point, having slept in too late, on account of staying up too late. It was hard to cut himself off when there were people about the house and doing things, even though he knew that actually leaving the house in the day would accomplish nothing productive. The degree to which he's been doing nothing lately is starting to get disheartening.

What is someone like him supposed to do, here? He isn't sure. Besides working on his English, which has admittedly improved. He's even managed to stop making buzzing sounds when he talks.

He's looking sort of disheveled when he comes out to see Lapis there. Huh. She doesn't spend a lot of time with the other rescuers, unless she has to.

"Did something happen?" he asks, approaching the couch curiously. He's still just wearing a t-shirt with a random band logo on it and shorts.

[oceantier]

Releasing a breath, she silently passes the paper to him, open to the article.

"They're . . . all over the beach."

Then buries her face in her hands, reverting back to her own tones of blue.

[spokethetruth]

Signless takes the paper and squints at it. Something about a blue dead woman in the ocean...it takes him a few moments to figure out what this has to do with her. And then...

"Oh...they saw you and got curious, did they?"

He sits down on the couch next to her, still looking it over. He scratches the scalp beneath his horns.

"It should be fine. Rumours spread so easily."

[oceantier]

"They're all over." For her turn, Lapis doesn't sound nearly as sure, her voice muffled in her hands. "I didn't mean to be seen. It's cold -- what are humans even doing out?"

[spokethetruth]

"Humans seem...ambitious? Some of them live in places where it is always cold, and what would they do then?"

He smiles sympathetically.

"They'll get bored, I'm sure...especially when they fine nothing, with you here."

[oceantier]

Not go out for moonlight makeout sessions on a deserted beach seems like a good idea to Lapis, but she's not nearly snarky enough to even attempt to give that words.

"It's . . . not just them. Other people . . . they've seen me too. They came up on me suddenly; I wasn't expecting them, and with them right there, I couldn't change. They know I'm not a ghost. What if one of them . . ."

She can't even finish that question. She's making a mess; she knew she would make a mess. She'd just wanted a little peace . . .

[spokethetruth]

Signless's expression softens as soon as he can tell this is a deeper worry than just annoyance at a spectacle. He frowns, sitting up a little so that he can address her more directly - to show that her worries have his attention.

"No, Lapis...it will be okay. There are many strange things that could have happened, and strangers are quick to provide solutions to their own questions given enough time. The truth is the last thing they would expect, now. You are valuable to us, as we can protect each other if need be."

He wants to put a hand on her shoulder, but he's not sure if she would like it. She is a shy creature, most of the time.

[determinate]

Frisk is crouched in a corner of the living room, carefully watering a potted flower. It's an African Violet, not a yellow one; they liked the purple. They glance up with a smile as Lapis enters, but it's only when they're standing to go put their cup back that they fully process the look on her face.

"You okay?" they ask quietly, head tilted in concern.

[oceantier]

Her eyes startle upward at the voice. She's heard Frisk too little to yet recognize it; the only other time was at the meeting with Gold, Silver, and Shep.

Recognizing the child, though, she quickly relaxes . . . at least back to the level she was at when she came in. A brief shake of the head follows, and she holds out the paper for Frisk's perusal.

There's no sense in hiding it -- from Frisk or from anyone.

[determinate]

Frisk takes the paper and reads it over seriously, before shaking their head. They hand it back with their phone. You don't look like a ghost.

Is she upset that she's been seen? It's good of her to worry, but honestly, Frisk thinks that more of them have been seen in public than haven't by now. They're not the only person who took advantage of that meet-and-greet, and they know it.

[oceantier]

She blinks. Stares.

"I'm not a ghost."

Her eyes shift away. "I . . . let people see me. Like I'm supposed to be."

In other words . . . blue.

It becomes more challenging to be seen in public when you're blue.

[determinate]

Ghosts don't look like that either.

But that's not especially helpful. It's what people think that matters most. And really, it's probably better they think she's a ghost than an alien, or anything closer to what she really is. "It's okay," they say, pulling themself up onto the couch and crossing their legs in front of them. "Lots of us have been out."

[oceantier]

"You don't look different from most humans . . ." She releases her outer appearance, reverts back to blue. "I never realized . . . I stand out."

"I can make trouble just by being me."

[eba02]

J recognizes the tune, even over the music playing from his headphones. He's been trained to pick a voice out of the chorus, and he definitely knows Lapis' tune by now. She's not happy - she sounds like the eye of a hurricane, the calm in the middle of something that has the potential to be very ugly. It's different from her constant low-level anxiety, and definitely not better.

So he pulls the headphones from his ears and sits up on the couch, waiting for her to enter and perch before he says anything. "Lapis? What happened?"

[oceantier]

She's glad for his presence, even if she certainly doesn't look like it at the moment. Without a word, she passes the paper in his direction.

[eba02]

He's puzzled for a moment as she hands him the paper, and even more puzzled once he sees the publication name along the bottom. What reason would Lapis have to be upset about a tabloid?

He scans it, then starts reading it in earnest once he realizes what it's about. After a moment, he puts the paper down on the couch, closes his eyes, and covers his mouth with a hand. He is trying his absolute hardest not to laugh, and he's not entirely succeeding.

[oceantier]

When he says nothing, puts down the paper, she waits . . . then, when he remains silent, dares a shift of the eye sideways towards him, hesitant, as though she expects she'll quickly have to pull her eyes away.

What . . . is he doing? What are those little choked noises? This is worrisome.

[eba02]

He can hear her worrying about him but he just can't stop. He's never been one to take tabloids seriously, especially after he started appearing in them, so the idea of one of them focusing on Lapis is just hilarious.

He picks up the page and offers it to her. "Congratulations, you're famous," is all he manages before he has to clamp his hand over his mouth again.

[oceantier]

The look she's giving him now is skeptical, though still with that undertone of worry, as though she expects the other shoe to drop at any moment. "Why are you . . ."

Why is he congratulating her, primarily, but why he's acting like he is is a good second guess. She doesn't finish the sentence either way, trailing off as she stares at him.

[fromearth]

It was a long day at work, and Sparks still reeks of paint thinner. He's just settling in to pore over concert schedules for the next move, and regards Lapis with a weary eye.

"What, bad day?" He's never seen her on a good day, so it's hard to tell.

[oceantier]

Ever the gentleman, Sparks. She passes the paper to him wordlessly.

[fromearth]

He looks it over, shifting slowly from curious to irritated. Not at her, really, just sort of as a general state of being.

"So people think you're some type 'a ghost for hanging out by the ocean." He'd call it a stupid idea, but the reality isn't any less dumb. "Well, one of the better ways to get caught, I reckon."

[oceantier]

It is reassuring somehow; of all people, Sparks would certainly be the one not to spare words on the situation.

Lapis shakes her head. "I didn't . . . even expect people to be there. Not this time of year. Not so late."

Not even by the ocean is safe.

[fromearth]

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren't you like, goin' there every night? Someone was gonna pick up on it eventually."

Sparks hands the paper back to her with a shrug. It can be her reminder, or treasured memento or whatever. "Look, just keep off the shore a little bit, lie low, don't turn on the blue outside. The wackos'll probably linger a while, but most of 'em will give up in a couple days."

[oceantier]

Definitely not a treasured momento. Who wants to remember the time they were misconstrued as a ghost named Edna Hoggindorf? She takes the paper back, but will be disposing of it asap.

Her eyes shift sideways at his commentary, a frown lingering between her eyebrows. "That's . . . where I've been staying. I go at night, when it's late. No one should be there. I'm not usually out where anyone can see me."

She's still managed to get seen even so. But she's not going to tell him that.

Frown more concrete now, "Staying shifted . . . it uses energy. I have to be myself somewhere."