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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 10, 2011 10:54:06 GMT -8
Charlotte blinked. That was an... unexpected question
“I... don’t know, actually. It always just has been. At least in all the darkrooms I’ve been in.” The act of turning on the light (even if it was red) had ended the moment in the dark. She suddenly wished she had waited... but they were in here for a reason. And David was back on task. She sighed, clipping the negatives up so they could begin drying properly. She really should start looking at them closely, to see if there was any evidence of the incidence at the lumbermill. But it would keep for a moment or two.
“I thought that looked like a scrapbook,” she said. “I’m curious to see it. Though that’s a rather morbid subject for a scrapbook, amateur local historian or not.” She laughed a little. “Mine doesn’t contain any photos or newspaper clippings... but it does have some rather interesting information.” With a lopsided grin she added, “And Greenvale wasn’t built on an Indian burial ground. So we don’t have THAT to blame for everything.”
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 10, 2011 12:45:52 GMT -8
"Hmm... If I looked in this notebook of yours, would I see the name of this mystery man you're protecting? I mean, if there's anything you remember from it that you'd feel comfortable telling me... No hurry, just wondering."
Trying not to sound too eager, Henning raised his eyes to the negatives Charlotte was hanging above the sink. They reminded him of something... White sheets flapping in a cool breeze like a scene from a fabric softener commerical, except he had actually remembered it as being kind of a beautiful sight. He took one hand from Charlotte's waist and pointed upwards.
"...When I was a kid, growing up on a farm in Wisconsin, my mom used to hang our laundry on clotheslines. Do people still use those any more? I feel like I've been taking them for granted. Like I don't remember seeing any recently, but I know they're out there somewhere."
He lowered his hand and picked up one of the clips Charlotte was using to hang up the photos. Wooden pins. He liked the feel of it.
"And these things, it's like they haven't changed for hundreds of years."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 10, 2011 14:55:01 GMT -8
Charlotte half-smiled and shook her head.
“No... There’s no mention of his name. Though I suspect that there’s enough there for you to suss out who it is. Seeing as how it comes with the territory of being in the FBI and all.” Why she told him that she wasn’t entirely certain; it practically guaranteed his making a beeline for the notebook upon their return to her room. Unless you distract him, piped up that annoying cheeky part of her. Sure, you’re wearing more clothes now, but you can make it work!
She tap-danced around telling him anything more in depth, instead moving onto the more innocent topic he'd provided, clotheslines.
“They do. I saw a lot of them on my travels. It’s quite a popular clothes-drying method in Greece.”
I might as well tell him what I remember... There was no sense in delaying much more. This was why he’d come up to her room, after all. And he needed to know.
“As for what information is in the notebook... Something happened a while ago, I think,” she told him, voice quiet and serious. “He wasn’t specific. But it... was bad. And whatever it was... left something behind. Lingering in the soil. The rain stirs it up. That’s why the town practically shuts down in the rain. The... Shadows... are feelings, presences that don’t want to be forgotten. They thrive on rainy days, in the darkness late at night. They cling to places where... darker things have occurred.”
He’s going to think I’m insane, Charlotte thought sadly. So she forced a laugh, trying to sound as though the thought didn’t bother her immensely. Maybe... If he believed me before... She could hope.
“It’s a bit more verbose than that, but that essentially sums things up.”
She reached up and trailed her fingers lightly over the negatives, trying to pretend she was nervous about his response.
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 10, 2011 18:20:40 GMT -8
"We're talking about Greenvale?" Henning frowned. He didn't want to seem dismissive, especially since Charlotte seemed so affected, but he'd always prided himself on being impervious to supernatural mumbo-jumbo. Still... What with the strange accidents that had been occurring to the both of them lately...
Whimsy isn't always a bad thing.
"Maybe it's just because I've only been here for a few days and haven't really met anyone, but I didn't know the townsfolk were so easily spooked by the weather forecast. If it weren't for what happened to you, I'd say the Shadows sounded like an urban legend... Or someone trying to reinforce that legend. But what kind of ghost drives a beaten-up car and hides canned fish in people's jackets?"
He was about to go on when something caught his eye. Without thinking, he put the wooden clothespin in his pocket and pointed to the third negative on the line.
"Looks like the photos are developing... What is that?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 10, 2011 18:44:51 GMT -8
“The one and the same,” Charlotte replied quietly. Her nervousness about his response had begun to abate somewhat. She knew the supernatural wasn’t his thing... but he was trying. It seemed like, anyway. “I don’t think the Smoking Man is the same as the Shadows... And he didn’t hide it in my pocket. Dropped it on a piano, actually. I had intended to return to him again, but I forgot I’d grabbed it in the midst of... everything,” she added, somewhat off-handedly.
The tips of her fingers twinged in pain, and she pressed them against her palm for a moment. Then he noticed something in one of the photos, and she leaned forward. What... “Oh...” she breathed softly, an ice cold shiver curling down her spine. It... was HER. Looking panicked and terrified. But... that wasn’t possible. It hadn’t left her hand or her pocket the entire time she was at the lumbermill...
Her chest felt tight and Charlotte realised she hadn’t breathed since realising what it was she was looking at. She sucked in a sharp breath of air. Her hands tightened on the edge of the counter as she tried desperately to stop the trembling. But she couldn’t help it.
“That’s not possible.” How had he taken a photo of her using her own camera without removing it from her pocket?? It explained the filthy fingerprints, at least. But it made her feel... grimy. And thoroughly unnerved. “Oh god.”
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 11, 2011 13:09:23 GMT -8
Piano?...
He was about to ask her more questions, but by then the images had begun to resolve themselves in the red gloom. It was Charlotte's reaction, rather than the photos themsevles, that proved to be the real concern for Henning. She lurched in his arms as she stared at the picture he'd pointed out... What wasn't possible? He drew her closer to himself as he looked over her shoulder, trying to make out the source of her distress. Then he saw.
"...Charlotte..." But he realized he already knew. She had gone to the mill alone... There hadn't been anyone else there, except for the person she'd called the Smoking Man... She would have told him if the camera had been removed from her possession, if she'd willingly given it to someone else...
He reached out and carefully removed the photo from her sight. "It's okay. He's just trying to freak you out," he said grimly. "Let's keep going. What about these other ones?"
If they were going to be in this for the long haul, there wasn't any sense in stopping when they'd just begun...
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 11, 2011 14:54:03 GMT -8
Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. She focused on David’s warm, solid presence behind her, instead of the Smoking Man and his freakish ability to take photos of someone on their own camera without removing it from their person.
“He’s doing a fantastic job of it,” she replied softly. She’d expected photos of what had happened, of weird shit she’d already experienced. Not... THAT. Eyes scanning the contents of the other photos, she frowned. There was NOTHING in the other photos. They just... looked like an abandoned lumbermill. Nothing more. Nothing less. No sign of anything strange. She made a quiet, frustrated sound.
“Damn it. Nothing. Just an abandoned lumbermill. There should be something in a few of these... But there’s not.” It shouldn’t have surprised her. Not everyone could see such things... so why would a simple piece of technology? It just... frustrated her. And it would have been nice to have a little more physical evidence to show David. Something more than just her word.
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 11, 2011 18:17:24 GMT -8
"You sound disappointed," Henning said with a laugh that came out a little quicker than he'd have liked. "The world is how it should be, isn't it? And if these are the ones you meant to take... They really are kind of beautiful. If you don't want to keep them, and I understand why you wouldn't, I'd be glad to take them off your hands... Or we could burn them in a pile of leaves out in the yard. Whatever you want."
He'd slipped the photo of Charlotte into his jacket pocket so he could put both arms around her waist again. A part of him knew it was there, but it had been shuffled off to the backroom of his conscious mind by a number of distractions: The suspense of what the other photos might have contained, the relief that apparently nothing else was amiss, and the wonderful smell of Charlotte's hair, which had come to dominate even the sink full of developing fluid.
"So now that we've established what we already knew... That this Smoking Man or whatever has it in for you, for some reason... What are we going to do about it?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 11, 2011 20:03:45 GMT -8
Charlotte half-shrugged, letting herself sink back against David. He’d wrapped his other arm around her waist again, and she was content to let that distract her from the disappointment of lack of photographical evidence.
“Maybe a little. I had hoped to give you something more than my word to go on,” she told him, raising a hand to gently caress his cheek, before prodding the remaining negatives with a finger. The fact that he’d said that her photos were kind of beautiful made those butterflies in her stomach cavort a little. “I’m not sure. We’ll let them dry for now. Then I’ll figure out what will be done with them. They may be yours.”
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.
“I have absolutely no bloody clue. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to his appearances. I don’t think we can do all that much. For the time being, anyway. He hasn’t physically tried to hurt me, so that’s something. Not that psychological torment is much better, though.”
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 12, 2011 19:33:38 GMT -8
"Maybe it's best if we put the Smoking Man and hs twisted mind games aside for the time being, and consider getting some rest. This has been enough excitement for the both of us, I think..."
Henning reluctantly let go and attempted to back away from her before realizing there wasn't enough room. He teetered on his feet for a second before catching his balance, ending up pressed even closer against her than before.
Well, like everything else this evening... Just roll with it. He hugged her tightly and said, a little hesitantly, "...Though, if you're still feeling a little disturbed... And I know I would be... I could stay with you, for the night. If you wanted. I'll just sit by the bed or something. Or we could just lie together with our clothes on, since I know how you feel about me sleeping in chairs..."
He let out a small laugh. "I know how that must sound, but in all practicality, I'm not sure either of us should be left alone in our rooms tonight. Not until we have more answers."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 12, 2011 20:24:29 GMT -8
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She didn’t want to think about that chain smoking son of a bitch anymore. She’d much rather think about the rather... wonderful fellow who currently was hugging her tightly. Who had listened, and more importantly, BELIEVED her.
And then he mentioned lying together with their clothes on.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as the cheeky part of her gleefully chimed in with ‘throw on a sexy night gown! You totally have some. Or suggest going sans clothes! OOH! Maybe the first will lead to the second!’ Then she twisted around so she could wrap her arms around David, laughing softly.
“I would very much like you to stay with me,” she murmured in his ear.
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 13, 2011 17:56:18 GMT -8
(Timejump, because I couldn't think of any other way to respond! Lemme know if this poses a problem...)
Outside Charlotte's door once again, Henning let go of her hand and gently turned her around to face him.
"Charlotte... Although I can't exactly say that this was a pleasant way to spend the evening... You were definitely the brightest part of it all. And I can't tell you how glad I am that you don't mind me coming up here with you..."
He felt like there was something else he should say, but the fatigue of the last 24 hours or so was lapping at his mind in dark, languid waves. Charlotte's face wavered, like a lit candle in an unexpected breeze; when was the last time he'd slept? It felt as if it had been years.
"Aren't you tired? You've been through a lot more than I have, and you still look fresh as... Well... You know how great I am with word comparisons. You look fresh as a... carton of milk?"
Somewhat punch-drunk, he took her hands and felt, rather than saw, the new gauze wrapped around them. He couldn't remember if he'd already said something about it; it was frustrating, how slow his brain seemed to be working at the moment. Time seemed to be moving like molasses... Smiling seemed to take forever...
"I blame the late hour for that one."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 13, 2011 18:51:16 GMT -8
(Timejump is groovy!)
Charlotte smiled brightly up at David, pressing a fond kiss to his lips
“As were you.” She wanted to say more, there were words begging to be said, but they remained on the tip of her tongue for now. “You’re more than welcome to come up whenever you’d like. I’d enjoy the company.”
She touched his cheek. He looked as tired as she felt.
“I’m exhausted... But I pretend very, very well.” She grinned. “A carton of milk? Well... it makes sense. I think.”
She fumbled to dig the key out of her pocket, refusing to let go of his hand to use both of hers. It would just take her a bit longer, that’s all. And that was fine. Door unlocked, she led him inside.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Charlotte said, "Would you like some tea? I can get some brewing after I change."
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Post by David Young Henning on Jan 14, 2011 14:01:15 GMT -8
Henning sat on the bed and tried to summon some hidden reserves of alertness, only to find them all empty. "Tea would be... nice. Thank you." He lay down on his back and shut his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers... Only to find that sitting back up was going to pose more of a challenge than he'd thought. He turned his head blearily to the side and saw the notebook and Polly's photo album on the bedspread, two inches from his face and out of focus. He brought one hand up as if to move them to the side table, and in the process completely spent the rest of his energy. He closed his eyes again, defeated, his limp hand still touching the side of the photo album.
"Charlotte..." he murmured. "I can't see you, but if you can hear me... I'm sorry for crashing out like this."
Now the question was whether he'd be able to hear her response before the warm darkness took him completely...
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 15, 2011 10:27:03 GMT -8
Charlotte had stopped to kick her boots off after making the offer of tea, and she looked up at David’s soft murmur. Smiling fondly (he really was sort of adorable sleepy), she headed over to the bed to remove the scrapbook and notepad.
“It’s all right. Sleep. I’ll join you in a minute,” she replied, setting the two items on the nightstand and pressing a gentle kiss to his hair. The she leaned down (hoping that he might still be awake enough to hear her... and asking anyway before she lost her nerve completely), bringing her lips close to his ear and asked “Go out with me tomorrow night?”
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