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

[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."

[fromearth]

She doesn't need to tell him that, the newspaper article is right there.

"That's the thing about humans. We like to go where we shouldn't." It's something that brings him equal parts pride and aggravation. "You can't count on 'should's, we're just too dang unpredictable for that."

He does look a bit incredulous at the mention of energy consumption. "Seriously? I've met guys who can hold it up for days." Well, Jupiter spies in the best in the business for a reason. "Must work different. Probably. Huh. All right."

Sparks finally shrugs. "Well, you can crash here in whatever color, if'n you want. I know you like to get all... lone wolfy, or whatever. You're just gonna hafta get more careful."

[oceantier]

Sometimes he does dig under her skin. Always saying things from his perspective, not ever trying to understand. While he's not an unkind person, at least from the majority of his actions, some of the things he says dip strongly into inconsiderate, chastising, and rude.

She's kept her irritation down. She's given him room, leeway, even warning, and he hasn't heard any of it. And today, tonight, when she's upset and scared and he's just tossing off words . . .

Suddenly he's just punching through.

"I am careful." Her voice is low, but there's an undercurrent that speaks of something flaring below the surface. "Maybe in your world, they can hold it up for days. But I can't. You, you can have whatever time and space you want. You're human. You can go anywhere, fool anyone you want. I can't. I take precautions. I do everything I can think of. But this isn't my place. It's not my world. I don't know what people are going to do. I never know what people are going to do. But at some point I have to do what I need to even try to live in this place. Call it what you want. But I need it."

Her eyes narrow on him. "Can you even understand that?"