Log:Once Upon A Midnite Not So Dreary

2021/01/16 Travis 1

Travis got home a bit late from practice. He grabbed a Slim Jim from the kitchen and ran upstairs as the girls complained that he needed a shower. At least a ghost visitor won't be bothered by smell, but his house mates insisted. After freshening up, Travis put on some swimming trunks and headed to the pool. Thankfully it's indoors and warm as he dives in and starts doing laps.

Apparently filled with living willow trees this room is quite large. Breezes rustle through the branches, a hidden sun, or moon depending on the time of day, shines down through the leaves, and a tiny brook wends its way through the place in a moss-and-stone lined bed. Occasionally it rains, but not in accordance with the outside weather.

The 'floor' here is softly turned dirt, moss, leaves, and, in the shadows, mushrooms.

The walls are invisible from more than a meter away. Close examination shows that they are covered with a realistic forest pattern of wallpaper.

One door leads out of the room to the balcony while another leads to the hall and another to Tyson's bedroom.

As you turn for a lap after swimming for a few minutes, you become aware that someone must have entered the fountain room as you now see yourself swimming. Whoever it is sits at the edge of the pool, resting their khaki covered legs in the pool.

Travis doesn't recognize the khakis at first. That's...strange. He would've sensed the others if they were in the room. He's just reaching the end and comes up for air, not needing to sweep his hair back to get it out of his eyes. He fights the urge to ask who's there. It'd give away his blindness. "Hello," he settles for instead. "I didn't notice you come in."

"I came through the floor. That's probably why not," says Charles Claymore in a somewhat distracted tone. "Is that a swimming suit or skivvies?" which reveals the distraction perhaps.

"Oh, uhh. Swimming suit. It's what all professional swimmers wear now. I'm guessing they didn't in your day?" Travis asks as his hands pant on the edge of the pool. His muscles tense as he pulls himself up and out of the water. He gets a foot on the ledge under him and stands up. Now where did he set down his towel...?

"You don't have to stop swimming on my account, Travis," says Charles as he looks at you. "Am I interrupting? I can come back..." His tone becomes hesitant.

"Nah, it's fine," Travis says as he orients himself a little and heads for where his towel was left. "You're not interrupting anything. I was just clearing my head."

"Ah...what's her name then?" asks Charles as he slowly moves his legs in the water. It does not move at all nor do his pants appear to be getting wet.

Travis picks up his towel and starts by trying his hair. "Huh? Oh, hahah. Nah, man. Not a girl on my mind. Just...busy school stuff. I got a lot on my mind with that." And with the Brainwave. Sometimes it's nice to quiet his thoughts from all the noise.

"I remember everyone I kissed in high school...well, probably not, given how drunk I got at times..." muses Charles, his tone distant. "He found me in a shooting parlor, you know. The Bloodhound did. I didn't know he was James them."

Travis slows drying his hair. "What's a shooting parlor?" the clueless teen asks. "Is that, like, a gun range?"

Charles looks over at you, his expression vacant for a moment before he replies. "Is where you'd go to buy heroin and then use it...I was your age...I think. I was 17 in any case when James, the Bloodhound found me. Well, I assume so, I was not really aware at the time."

Travis lowers his towel to let is rest on his shoulders. "Oh. Wow. Times WERE different back then. Did you know him as James before he showed up as Bloodhound and caught you there?"

"Oh, no, not at all. What would a scion of one of the Bay's 'elite' families have to do with a mere ADA? I wouldn't have known I needed to snub him, he was so far beneath my social status," says Charles with the ghost of a smile. "Now, I'd heard rumors about the Bloodhound, but just rumors. No one had photos of him yet."

Charles stands and looks around. "I..what was I talking about?"

Travis smiles kindly and doesn't bring attention to Charles' memory issues. "You were talking about when Bloodhound found you, and James. Though I gotta admit, I don't know what a mere ADA means. I don't know if that term exists anymore?" Or maybe he's just a clueless teen. "Oh, and you mentioned there were rumors about Bloodhound."

"Oh, you all don't have Assistant District Attorney's anymore? Huh. Odd," Charles says with a shrug. "No, /James/ had been assigned to rein me in, but /the Bloodhound/ found me. Not that I knew James has been told to get me back on closer to the straight and narrow. My godfather was at his wit's end and thought a former Marine sergeant and decorated war hero turned new ADA could do it." He quirks a grin. "And he did. Just not how 'Uncle' Amos might have wanted.

He wanders over to where you're standing and takes a seat. "Yeah, he was brand new to the whole man of mystery thing, the Bloodhound. Rumors said someone was messing with the gangs and their activities. It was the him."

"It was said that once he was on your trail, you couldn't escape. And that he could walk through walls. And was invulnarble to bullets!"

"Oh! Uhhh, I think they do still have those, actually. Didn't know they were called ADA's," Travis explains dumbly. He grins at the tales of Bloodhound. "Guess that's why the name Bloodhound fits. Didn't know about that other stuff. Hmm...so how did his reining in differ from what your uncle wanted?" he asks as he sits in a chair across from Charles, leaving his towel draped over his shoulders.

The ghost of Charles Claymore looks at you, or your towel draped shoulders in any case, before he responds. "Hmm, oh, yeah, that," Charles says after that long moment. He then chuckles, "Well, James may have got me on the narrow path, off the smack and booze, but not, heh, onto the 'straight'. Not that Uncle Amos had any idea about that. James just helped acknowledge and deal with being a friend of Dorothy." Charles watches you for a second then says, "You have no idea what that is do you, Travis?"

Travis looks clueless. "No, no I don't," he laughs in a charming, apologetic way.

Charles sighs softly and you get the impression he may be blushing as he says, "It mean I like men like most guys like girls, Travis. I'm bent, queer, a shirt tail lifter." He quirks a grin, "Pick your insult."

Travis chuckles kindly. "Oh, right. Never heard it said that way. Well, except for the word queer. You're gay. Cool," he says without judgement. "Though these days, queer isn't really an insult. I guess it all depends on how you say it. I'm guessing the whole LGBTQ+ wasn't all that open back in your day." He wonders how much Charles knows about how times have changed. The answer is most likely not at all.

"The LBGQT? What is that?" says Charles in a confused tone. "And it's not? But, but, that's not what Harrington said...He always..always..." Charles starts to waver slightly, becoming more tranlucent, almost fading away.

"Well, you almost got that right. It an acronym for the Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans, and, uhhh, Questioning community," Travis explains. He looks worried as Charles mentions Harrington. "Whoa, whoa, it's okay. He's gone. You're safe. Stay with me," he says as he reaches out for Charles, seeing Charles hands and legs beginning to fade from his perspective.

"He..he..his touch was so cold..." says Charles as his gaze grows distant, his body becoming bloodstained and battered. He holds his hands up, what remains of them and tries to put them over his face.

Travis thinks about the brides AND grooms Harrington kept. If that's what he did to their bodies, he never thought what twisted things he did to their souls. "Hey, that shickhead is gone now. Forever. He can't touch you anymore," he tries to get through to Charles. His attempt to put a hand on where he thinks Charles' shoulder is may just end up with his hand going through the transparent ghost.

Charles shudders as your hand passes through his body at the same time a chill passes up your arm and into your chest. It's like something is being drawn out of you.

He then jerks back away from you, his eyes going wide, "No! NO! I won't do that again! NO!" Charlrd stops fading away and his appearance becomes more polished, the tired soldier who listened to the piano music. He backs away from you as if scared, but not of you. Maybe of what just happened.

Travis sucks in a breath as the chill reaches his chest, drawing his hand away. "S-sorry. I was trying to help. I'm not going to make you do anything," he says calmly and compassionately. He finally realizes part of Charles' trauma stems from what was done to him after his death as well. Forgetting may be a coping mechanism...or still just part of being a ghost. He's not totally sure.

Charles blinks rapidly for a few seconds as he gasps for breaths he no longer needs. He then raises a hand to his face, then it grows blank for a moment.

Travis pulls back and stays seated as he lets Charles calm down. "It's okay," he says quietly again. Though now he realizes he needs to find the medicine man spirit and learn more from him, if he can.

Charles looks over at you as you speak again, then smiles hesitantly. "Oh, you must be the one of the new ones. Just got assigned to the front, did you?" He then gestures around at the fountain room. "It's not much, but it's what an officer's club is like up here. Come on, I'll stand you a drink." He shakes his head. "Just out of the Academy, are you? You Academy boys are always so polished looking."

You get the strong impression that he's not seeing you at all. That he is back in his memories of what was.

Travis is hesitant to use his powers on Charles without permission. Especially with what he's struggling with. He can't help but feel sympathetic for Charles. A sentiment Travis' father tried to beat out of him. Sometimes physically. His father's supervillain organization had the veneer of paramilitary, so he falls into old behaviors. "Yes. Straight out of it. Private Morgan," he introduces himself in the respectful tone of a subordinate. He'll have to make sure to avoid making Charles think of how his military career ended. He's a bit underdressed for a military man, but Charles seems to be seeing something else entirely.

Charles walks over a dozen feet or so then says as he seems to lean on something. "Well, we haven't got much, Lieutenant Morgan, but we've got beer." He chuckles. "Not American beer mind you, but it's not bad for Korean. You just missed out on some Guiness. Our company supply clerk cut a deal with a Scots regiment. That was good stuff."

Travis gets an immediate promotion and smiles a bit. He follows, letting his towel stay behind on his chair. "I'm sure I'll get used to it. Hopefully the Guiness will make a comeback."

Charles nods. "Probably will. Our scrounger's good at making deals. He managed to get us ham on Christmas, somehow." Charlea smiles wearily. "God, that made the men happy."

"I reckon it did," Travis says, trying to use what old fashioned talk he knows from some movies. "I appreciate any beer right now." Boy would he. Maybe at the next house party.

Charles holds up two fingers to someone it seems. "It'll take a minute. Gotta cool it off with a blast from a fire cannister." He snorts. "Of course in winter, we got to warm them up. It's always one or the other here on the peninsula. Not like at home. Which, if you hadn't guessed is Virginia." He smiles widely. "How about you, Lieutenant Morgan?"

Travis realizes if he admits he's Canadian, it may mess with Charles' illusion. "Washington state. In a small town not far from the Canadian border." He'd been through a number of areas near there before.

Its why I used to leave scenes at around 430 or 5 PM EST. So I could get to bed for work that night.

"Yeah, as my friend Dorothy used to say, 'There's no place like home.' Ah, here the beers are. He reeaches into a shirt poket and pulls out some faded bills that he hands to someone you suppose. The moment he lets go, the memory fades. He picks up two beers, foamy and translucent, and holds on out to you. "My shout this time, lieutenant."

There's that name again. Dorothy. Is that a fictional person, some slang, or an actual person. Travis worries what'll happen when he tries to take hold of the beer. Maybe it'll disappear like the bills, and he'll have to pretend he's still holding it. He reaches out to grasp for the offered beer. "Thank you kindly. I appreciate it." He manages to not add a western drawl, since he's saying lines he heard in a western once.

The beer disappears once Charles lets go, but he doesn't seem bothered by it, so one assumes he thinks you have it in hand. He holds up his beer, "A toast, Lieutenant Morgan: may you live long enough to a burden to your children!" he says with a grin then takes a long drink of his beer.

Travis chuckles and raises his "glass". "Cheers," he says, though carefully decides not to repeat the sentiment back in exactly those terms, all things considered. He pretends to drink his beer, glad that the other Code Dark members aren't here.

Charles continues to talk with 'Lieutenant Morgan' for another hour. You get the impression that Korean War Charles Claymore was, if not a perfect officer and gentleman, at least worked hard to be. He seemed genuinely fond of the men under his command and almost in hero worship of his First Sergeant who he credited for keeping him alive when he was 'green as a twig and about as bright'.

In the end, Charles looks over at the 'door' to the officer's club and says, "Speak of the Devil, there's my First now." He adopts a listening posture, his expression sobering. "Well, time to go check on them then, Sarge. Did you gra...Good, I'd forget it if you didn't," he says as a helmet appears in his hands. As he settles in on his head, he looks at you and says, "It was good to meet you, Lieutenant Morgan. Hope we can get together for another drink soon." He then looks at the emtpy space and says, "Let's get on with it, Sarge."

"I'll be looking forward to it," Travis says with a parting salute, guessing Charles won't be mentally present in the present for a while. He earned some things about him, though. Definitely a far cry from a heroine addict, that's for sure.

From behind you, you hear Chalmers say, "That was very well done, Travis," in an approving tone. For whatever reason, you weren't aware of him until he spoke.

The ghosts are great at sneaking up on him. He can't exactly feel them like he can with others. He turns halfway to Chalmers, giving him a view of his profile as he tries to find him. "I was just trying to keep things chill. How long were you there?"

Chalmers takes out the ghost of his pocketwatch and looks at it, then to back you as he tucks it away in his vest pocket. "Oh, about 30 minutes or so. More than long enough." He smiles gently. "Charles is damaged, as I'm certain you're aware. I, well, I couldn't help him in the past. Harrington's power kept me from the house ghosts even then they ventured outside. He couldn't fully contain or control them. They weren't, hmm, his."

Travis takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah. I noticed." He adds with a wry smirk, "I guess that makes him fit right in with some of Code Dark." They all have their scars, but not quite in the same way. He manages to orient himself better and walks over to Chalmers, keeping his voice lower in case Charles is able to hear. "What'd Harrington do to him? I think I got an idea."

"Harrington like playing with his 'toys', Travis," says Chalmers with a frown and shake of his head. "I'm /not/ going to go into details. He was a monster and sadist, both physiccally and mentally. He also would force the ghosts to harm or kill the living. Not all the people who died here died directly at Harrington's hands."

"Was Charles made to kill anyone here?" Travis asks quietly. His mind is already filling the other blanks Chalmers won't repeat. He's see the Saw Reboot movies, after all!

"I think so, yes, but I'm not certain, Travis. What happened in the house was, well, I was blocked from the house so I only know what other ghosts hinted at." Chlamers shrugs then sighs. "If I hadn't been an overconfident ass, if I'd reported my suspicions to the White Council, ah, so much of all this," he waves generally at the house. "So much of this darkness could have been avoided.""

"Or...maybe it would've resulted in more ghosts." Travis shrugs. "I was told that Native American ghost had some connection with Charles and might know something about while Charles' mind keeps slipping to the past. Do you know anything about that guy? I wanna talk to him if I can find him."

Chalmers looks at you then nods slightly. "I'd first try to contact him through the bear or the owl. They can be found most nights out in the woods around the house, Travis. If you can get them to, well, listen to you, convince them of your good intentions...they can then take you to the medicine chief. Or whatever he was called." He looks at you. "He's the key spirit here, Travis. For whatever reason, well, not whatever reason. This was either a sacred site or burial ground or both for the Powhatan. He is it's guardian."

Travis frowns a little. "Ancient Native American burial ground? That tracks," he comments. "I suppose I should go on the astral plane for this," he comments as he walks over to his chair and picks up his towel.

"I would leave it for another day, Travis. It's late and you need rest." He holds up a hand. "And yes, I know I'm not /actually/ your guardian, but, I was a camp counselour for many years. You need more sleep than you think." He smiles slightly. "Don't make me sing 'Kumbaiyah

Travis shudders at the threat. "Okay, okay! I'll go to bed," he relents to avoid being sung anything. He wraps his towel around his waist to avoid any comments in case he runs into Summer or Tess.