1.9 Sleepy Mountain Town

Junpei may not have problems with his schoolmates, but he is shy, and the way he hides himself in baggy clothing reflects that. Mab is not a fan of his chosen style, but chooses not to criticize.

When Junpei was brushing his teeth five times this morning, preparing for school using the kitchen sink because his sister demanded the bathroom to mess with her hair, his mother was painting.

When Junpei is almost ready for bed, and the ghosts are preparing to make their move on the neighbors, his mother is still painting.

"Do you ever think of selling those?" he asks her.

"Those what?"

Junpei taps a finger against the side of the canvas.

"Oh." Those. "No, they're not that good."

"That one isn't," he agrees. "That's one's creepy."

"Thank you, son."

"But some are really good!"

"I paint for me. Not for other people." Mab reaches over and gently ruffles Junpei's hair. It's soft and warm. His father's wasn't, she recalls, without wanting to; it was as lifeless as mannequin hair. "Where are you going?"

"To check on the garden."

That seems like a suspiciously weird thing to be doing at this hour, and yet she watches Junpei open the front door, slip outside, and through the windows she can see him inspecting the garden plants. 

Mab's cell phone rings.

Poltergeists, she predicts. The night begins.

Finley expected high school to bring sweeping changes, so she isn't sure if she feels disappointment or relief when life carries on as usual. In the daytime, in Finley's waking hours, this little town in the mountains continues to sleep. Even on the warmest of summer days, the mornings and evenings hold a tranquil chill.

Reisa is thrilled to have her best friend in her classes again. 

The girls eagerly discuss their upcoming prom. Ever since she was a little kid, Reisa has been observing the upperclassmen, eager to mimic their ways, and her research has led her to believe about 75% of couples at prom go on to marry each other. Marriage is hugely important to Reisa; it will mean she can change her last name without insulting her father.

Finley finds it hard to imagine tying herself down to someone when she doesn't even have a someone to picture in that role with her yet, but she agrees it's a good idea to practice dance moves early.

After tiring themselves out, the girls plop down on the couch to watch reruns of MacGyver.

"So is the dollhouse on top of your TV for a reason?"

"It gets it off the floor."

Junpei wanders in from wherever he is when Finley isn't paying attention.

Reisa is too pleased to see him. "Hi, Junpei!" Her voice is half bubbly, half a sultry purr. Finley's eyes narrow and her upper lip curls back in disgust.

Finley needn't have worried about a blossoming romance between her brother and best friend making things awkward. Junpei responds negatively to Reisa's flirtatious greeting.

"I can't be social right now! My science homework is integral to defending the moon!"

Junpei sits down at the kitchen table to do his homework and make sure the moon is safe. "If the Russians ever take control of the moon from us," he warns, "they might use, like, a giant LASER to carve SIM NATION SUCKS on it. Then we'd have to see that every night. Or at least, when the moon phases are favorable."

Reisa stares. "Is he serious?"

Finley rolls her eyes. "No."

"Oh." Reisa smiles. "Your brother is cool."

Finley mentally counts to ten.

 This minor spirit is like nothing Mab has encountered before.

When she warily lifts the Banshee Banisher, intending to capture and relocate it, her ears are assaulted with an odd noise. A high-pitched little voice is yelling at her.

The entity's transition to match Mab's size is accompanied by a surprising POP! sound.

He nervously pokes the Banshee Banisher with his foot, and it vanishes in a puff of sparkly dust.

 He lands, smiling. "I said, don't hurt me."

Mab stares. "I didn't... intend to..."

"You are cowering. Why?"

"You startled me," Mab answers.

"Good to know, I can take even an elf by surprise."

"I think you're a little confused." 

"Your human disguise is very good, but I can sense the magic inside you. Tell me, what brings one such as you out of hiding?"

"Who asks?"

"I'm called Larkspur. I work for the government." He allows a moment for this bizarro statement to sink in. "Don't fret... I would never mention I saw you! I know better than to cross higher magic than mine."

Mab guesses he doesn't mean he's from city hall. "...Larkspur, then. I'm Mab. I'm not an elf. I wouldn't even know the name of the last person in my ancestry who was. I guess you could say I'm a hybrid, but... this isn't a disguise."

He frowns. He takes six steps to the right. Then six steps to the left. He picks distractedly at his sleeves, disliking the sterile clothing he's issued. "I didn't think the elves allowed that," he says, finally.

Mab shrugs. "Well they've never shown up and complained."

"I gather you don't understand the severity of this mistake. Even when the physical similarities are bred out, and your body lacks the right blood to connect with your potential, the core of you will never be fully human. It is dangerous for you to be running around unsupervised." 

"I don't see how..."

"There are aspects of the world open to your kind and not to others. You could undermine our reality."

Larkspur is proud of the big words he's using. Technical vocabulary is not the strong point of his ilk. They like to play; they hate to learn. But Larkspur is not young, nor is he free to do as he pleases.

Mab's frown intensifies with her growing confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"Witches know this, and seek you out. Your dying energy can fuel the most impossible of spells."

With a shudder, Mab thinks of Aric and the artifact he created. 

"I met some kind of witch, once," she says, meaning Oliver. "He didn't know what I was."

"How very lucky for you, then, he was not a follower of Styx."

"You know, I never figured out his music preferences."

"I'm curious about what you're doing here. It's not a safe place."

"I'm taking care of the disturbed spirits thing. That's what I'm doing here."

"I see. I see. That makes sense. Yes, the rift has troubled this area since... forever."

Larkspur would know. He was born here.

"Are you a fairy?" Mab asks, her fear fading as curiosity takes over.

"Yes."

"Why are you here?"

He hesitates. "Monitoring the dryads. Nothing special."

"The green people in town?" Mab jokes, but feels sick. "I figured they were space aliens."

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive."

She stares at him for a while, considering the many things she could ask.

"Well, I ought to go!" he says suddenly.

"W-wait! What are you, exactly? Are the dryads dangerous or something? Are fairies responsible for minor spiri--"

Mab stops talking when Larkspur steps into the air, as if skipping up some invisible staircase. His wings carry him off into the sky, and down into the valley below somewhere. Either his body is impossibly light, or the wings are much stronger than they appear. Faintly, Mab hears a POP! noise.

He must be tiny again. She'd never find him now. At least, not with her eyes.

Oh no. Where's my banisher?

It reappears in her hands, covered in purple dust. Mab coughs.

Larkspur glances back once.

That was a weird encounter! Elves, in this forest of all forests!

He does not like this development.

Maybe having the computer in Finley's room wasn't such a great idea.

"It's a laptop, Junpei. You can take it anywhere in the house. Get out of my room."

After breakfast one morning, Finley pulls her brother aside for a chat. "Reisa and I are going to Lars' tonight. Come with us?"

"Lars? Who is this LARS?"

Finley doesn't bother answering. Lars' Disco Tech; Junpei knows that. "Just come with us. It'll be fun. Maybe you'll pick up a date for prom... ...ha haaa I make the best jokes."

"I don't wanna. Reisa is creepy."

"Good, because you're not dating Reisa."

"Still not going."

"Yes you are."

How the twins settle all disagreements.

Finley wins this round, and so they go off to the Disco Tech.

Though she and Reisa enter with high hopes of socializing with boys outside of school confines, Reisa and Finley find Lars' disappointingly devoid of life this evening.

"Maybe it'll wake up at night," Finley suggests.

Junpei heads over to the claw machine.

Finley is embarrassingly bad at most of these arcade games.

"You're gonna blow your whole allowance," Reisa laughs.

"Grr! That'll be fine as long as I beat this game!"

"You can't really beat pinball..."

Finley points angrily at the high score table.

Reisa squints. "Are some of those...?"

"Yeah. My brother's."

This game is more Finley's speed.

SMASH. DESTROY.

Her dance moves are wasted. No one shows up to appreciate them, and Reisa is called home early to look after her little brother, Lewis. Both of her parents unexpectedly had to work late.

"Let's either try Mick's, or go home," Junpei suggests with a yawn.

So they go to Mick's.

No teens are here except the Woodard siblings—Arethusa, Achilles and Accalia. 

Accalia politely invites the Archers over to their pool game.

Accalia isn't wearing a bra, and her tank top is barely hanging on. 

Accalia leans over the pool table to take her shot.

Achilles shuffles closer to Junpei. "Psst. Freckle-boy."

"Yes?"

"You remember those stories I used to tell you in elementary school about us being dryads?"

"You told me last week never to speak of them again," Junpei whispers.

"I changed my mind. The trees are totally going to kill you if you don't stop looking at my sister's chest."

Finley does not consider herself a good writer, in particular, but all of her research papers for school are highly praised, and given the best marks. 

Finley becomes aware of the narrator's presence.

[Run! RUN! ABORT MISSION!]

Prom night arrives. Mab is ready with a camera.

"You look so pretty..."

"Aw, Mom."

"Go on now. I don't want to make you late!"
 

Prom is a great success. Reisa and Finley both went in dateless, but quickly found boys who wanted to dance with them the whole night. Reisa is now going steady with Leslie O'Dourke, and Finley is romantically interested in Tommy Ornales. Never mind that Tommy broke up with Diana Abbot just yesterday, and Diana was giving both Tommy and Finley the evil eye tonight.

Junpei stayed home all night reading a book. When his sister questions why he didn't want to go to the dance, he tells her none of the girls in school interest him very much.

"Accalia?" Finley teases.

"She's going steady with Vance Shawkti."

"That could change at any moment!"

"I don't want to date Accalia, Finley."

"There are other girls. Don't you ever think about... you know... wanting someone to share your life with?"

"Hey... I didn't know you and Tommy were that serious."

"We're not!!"

Nonetheless, when the weekend rolls around, Tommy is eager to get Finley in a bikini.

Finley doesn't look as curvy as Diana in a bikini, but Tommy will find a way to feel up what's there, once he gets her into the jacuzzi.




______________________________________________
Etc.: Here is a visual representation of what NASA is trying to prevent, according to Junpei.

Mab's career is so glitched out now. She can't investigate ghostly presences or deal with angry ghosts, my two favorite jobs because they give great screenshots. All she can do is go after spirit invasions and poltergeists, and the rare rabbit hole paranormal investigation jobs. Actually, all three are rare now that she's high level in her career. So she gets one job a night, if she's lucky.

But she just reached level 10, so she now has the nifty tool that lets her hunt spirits around town night or day. It's like the collection helper, but for spirits. So that should net simoleons to ease my pain.

The Woodard triplets were born in-game to Emmaline Rhoen (a green-skinned doctor whose bio suggests she bakes magic pie) and Ken Woodard (green-skinned pizza delivery guy). Accalia's boyfriend, Vance Shawkti, is the son of Cassidy Earthsong, so he's green too.

Larkspur's skin is bright yellow. In planning stages he was purple, so the name made more sense, but then some things happened and I am sorry. Here's a picture with better lighting:

Agent Eyesore, reporting for duty.