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Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
"I mean, we don't have to go leave right now. And we can't anyway, until Felix shows up. If you want to go talk with her, it's fine by me, I'm just not going to be very good company." Jon looked up toward the house where Gammy Snaps would be waiting.
__________________ I never saw an ugly thing in my life - John Constable
"Well, I guess we have to talk to her eventually. But after everything else today I'm not sure I feel up to it right now." Isabelle replied, truthfully. Apart from the encounter with a specific groundskeeper, today had just been one demoralising setback after another so far.
Charlene nodded. It had been a trying day. "On the other hand, we might as well get it all over with in one day. That way we have that much less to deal with tomorrow."
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
"Waiiit." Isabelle said, realising all too slowly where her friends were going with this. "You guys mean to tell me you actually want to go deal with her today?"
"As much as I want anything else right now, I guess." Jon leaned against one of the lamp posts rising from the sidewalk. "Beside, Charlene has a point - we might as well get this out of the way. I mean, who knows what tomorrow will turn out like after this?"
__________________ I never saw an ugly thing in my life - John Constable
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
"Riiight, okay then." Isabelle shrugged, turning to look at the manor in the near distance. "Well let's get to it then, just everyone be ready to bolt the second she decides to call you Fred, or whoever that guy is that she hates."
"It probably won't save you, but hey!" She added, after a pause for thought.
The big words, the words that set the tone, were cold, grey-green, overgrown and ruined. It looked like a battle had been fought here, and not a battle between ordinary people. Walking into the grey stone courtyard the Lost could see the scars in the wall even underneath the ivy; the statue that had been twisted and melted by some immense heat, the gouges in the ground and walls from some huge animal's talons, the iron gate that had been torn off it's hinges.
Half the house was collapsed, a huge heap of rubble. The other half stood gaunt and defiant, like a castle keep emerging from the rubble of the ruined fortress. The front door was heavy, solid wood, and was opened as they approached by an extremely fat butler with a monocle and a walrus moustache. Looking closely they'd be able to see actual walrus tusks underneath.
"Good afternoon," said the walrus man. "What can I do for you?"
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
"Uh, good afternoon" Isabelle replied, wondering if - between the haughty Felix and this new guy - they were going to go through the entire list of cliche butlers before much longer. Regardless, she didn't see any reason to beat around the bush here.
"My friends and I recently arrived in town, and were just made aware of the nightmares that many people here had been sharing. When we asked about it, Talmage referred us here."
Charlene looked around at the ruined, embattled place as they walked up to the door. It wasn't the strangest thing they had seen, nor was the walrus man. Still she wondered if no one ever noticed it and thought about it. Probably not much, and they would never suspect the truth.
Isabelle beat her to the introduction, so Charlene just gave a nod in agreement.
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
"Certainly. Be careful, on it's best days this house is merely haunted," said the walrus butler.
As he started to lead them into the manor, he spoke. "I must warn you that by most conventional understandings of sanity, Gammy Snaps is completely deranged. I will tell you, though, that she can see the future and is the second most powerful of this city's Lost - after Amy Acre, of course. Do not anger her, do not offend her, and do not dismiss anything she does as an act of mere insanity. It could be a prophecy that could change the lives of more than you and yours."
__________________
"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
The butler held the door open for them and stayed outside.
Inside the room was both grand and barren. Uncarpeted wooden floorboards and a great, bare window of glass and metal. A huge wooden table with room for fifteen, and chairs of foreign mahogany. No portraits or decorations adorned the walls. The sunset poured in through the windows bathing the room in golden light, dust motes floating free.
Gammy Snaps sat at the head of the table, straight-backed and severe. Her hair was grey and her face severe, and there was iron in her gaze. Her dress was a simple but stylish construction, black for mourning. She looked like she had been waiting for them.
"Waldo?" she said, looking at Isabelle with a very severe, restrained sort of politeness. "What an unexpected pleasure."
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
"Oh, you know. Chilly. From the hole in the roof. That you still haven't fixed," said Snaps icily. "But you and Argave are never in the same place unless you want something, so out with it."
She perhaps indicated Jon when she said Argave.
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
[It was surprisingly hard to find that name again, you know. Took me several searches because apparently you misspelled her name as Grammy that time, and I could have sworn it was Waldo she didn't like, but I guess not ... page 19, Bernie, oh gosh ]
We're off to a good start, Charlene thought as she tried to remember who not to be. A leaky roof wasn't the worst she could imagine being blamed for.
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
Jon tried to resist the urge to glance back over his shoulder in the creepy house. The warning about the place being haunted had set him on edge, but he was helped in his efforts by the fact that he really didn't want to make a bad impression on their host. Assuming he even had a say in the matter.
Once it looked like Gammy Snaps wasn't going to mistake him for Bernie, Jon relaxed a bit, although he still wasn't sure he liked her tone. Did every Changeling go around just demanding things of each another and yelling?
Reaching a hand into his pocket, Jon pulled out the shattered dreamcatcher and held it up. "We've been staying with Prince Talmage the past couple days, ma'am. I'm in the Herald's room and last night we all had really bad nightmares; when I woke up, I found this dreamcatcher broken on the floor. When we told him about what happened, Talmage said you might be able to tell us more about what it all meant?"
__________________ I never saw an ugly thing in my life - John Constable
"You've been staying with a prince?" Gammy Snaps looked at him like he was daft. "Argave, if this is some kind of lewd joke it is in poor taste."
But she picked up the dreamcatcher and turned it over in her hands. "Broken eggshell. Beads cracked. Smell of burned pork... ah yes, I know what this is. Listen closely, Argave, because I'm only going to say this once.
"Dreams have layers, you see, and if you go deep enough the dreams blend together. This comes out into the dream of all people, the dream of humanity. It's a vast place constructed of every idea that ever was, and free fragments of it float up and down between sleeping souls.
"Now, if you can believe it, there are certain rituals primarily conducted by native american shamans that allow them to invade the dreams of others - don't laugh! - and possess them from afar. Or they believe they can use their magical rituals to gain control of a certain nightmare and hurtle it towards your dream space. Dreamcatchers like this are shields against such things, and can imprison an attacking shaman within them. They're also stores for dreams, where favoured memories can be kept and shown to other sleeping souls."
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
Jon didn't laugh, and was in fact nodding along to Gammy Snaps' explanation. He wasn't sure he really understood it all, but he was trying to at least remember the words so he could think over them later.
"Does the broken dreamcatcher mean that something escaped, then?"
__________________ I never saw an ugly thing in my life - John Constable
"I should be so lucky," grumbled Snaps. "But it would serve you right if it was. Think, Waldo, did you offend any shamans recently? Make a scene in a casino? Welsh on a debt, perhaps?"
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
"Not likely, I don't even like to toss rubbish anywhere unless it's a bin." Isabelle replied, shifting uncomfortably
"Which is why we were thinking it had to be something unintelligent, or environmental. The shared nightmares are too unfocused in who they affect to be any kind of attempt at revenge, or even as the predations of some kind of id monster."
"Look at you using all those big words!" Snaps scoffed. "Argave must be rubbing off on you. But if it's not a shaman then it's probably a rogue monster in the underdream; there's a few of those around these parts. I suppose you'll have to find a real shaman after all if you want to learn how to fight it."
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"There may be no good reason for things to be the way they are."
After everything they had heard about Gammy Snaps, Charlene was quite taken aback by just how lucid the old lady seemed so far. Perhaps they had caught her on a really good day. That didn't mean she understood half of what the crone was saying, but she did think she got at least some of it.
"Where would we find a real shaman who could help us?" Charlene asked uncertainly. After everything she almost expected the answer would be that they could hardly swing a dead cat without hitting a stray shaman, even though her tattered rationality told her that real, authentic shamans ought to be a rare thing.
Deadly, a delightfully daring drawer and drafter of dissertations. Defying the dictations of our disparate denizens, Deadly decides his direction with a dirth of dependence on the decisions of despotic desperados. Deadly detests dismissive derision, and will debate any dude or dame that dares to detest discussion.
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