Harmonia is snoring on the couch of Claire's cottage, up in the living room.. Claire and Roxy are within the basement, a whirring noise can be heard. Kai is probably chewing on something. When Para comes through with a profound melancholy and intense fear (which is much more than he's been able to say for the past few... months? Years?) plastered upon his features, he looks down at the grass underfoot. Firm against his boots. Black Fairy, the audio, stalks after him, dejected. He doesn't know why he's even carrying the briefcase. He slips a key into his back pocket and slowly stumbles up to the door and stares at the material it is made out of for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Then he raises his hand to his shoulder, forges it into a fist, and raps against that protecting the chamber with his knuckles.
Approximately 76 milliseconds pass between each knock.
It is almost a note.
Harmonia falls off the couch, groaning at the noise and getting up. "Yeah- YEAH I'M COMING-" She says. Jesus who the hell was here? They're in the middle of the Path, solicitors cant get here. Right? She heads to the door and opens it to be faced with an atrocious, older man, like a standing cockroach, some ravenous vermin. One which, perhaps, strikes a distant chord.
He is tall, his legs making up most of that height. His arms are also somewhat hyperextended. He stares up at Harmonia with all of the pressure in his features replaced with utter neutrality. Not relaxed, not uptight. Not sad. Not angry. Not happy. Excited. Anything. There is nothing behind those eyes.
"I'm here," he says. He furrows his brow. What is he here for?
"What the fuck. Who are you?? What do you want??" Harmonia asks, looking him over with a bewildered expression.
"I'm here," he recites. "I-I..." He coughs and then turns away to sneeze. "Don't beeeeelieve we've been prop-perly introb... duced." He sneers at his own inability to speak. "Curious. I, I-I am the, errrm, in dividend dwell... tragic, uh, indiv... i-individual who is to see."
"Uh... I see???" Harmonia says, looking him over curiously. "How'd you get here?? This place is hidden-"
"Travel," he explains succinctly and immediately, almost interrupting Harmonia, and doesn't even really elaborate; probably because he's sure that she can fill in the blanks. There is no need to add unnecessary information.
Harmonia stares at him. "Right. So. What do you want????"
"I'm here to—" he coughs again "I'm have a meeting. I have a meet. In your" pause "house."
She continues to stares at him. "With who??"
Para purses his lips as he begins to spout information that sounds vaguely true. "With Cl-Cl-Claaaaaire. Claire. It is her owner's sh-sh-sh-ship. This local. Locale." He shuts his mouth and then opens his lips but both rows of teeth are pressed together. It looks like he's baring his teeth but there's really nothing there. Then he looks as normal as he can be again. He doesn't look at Harmonia anymore but just stares through her and into the innards of the house.
"Okay... can I get a name so she knows whos here?" She asks, looking the man over and debating if he's secretly a monster or someone sent to hurt them.
"Jo... Greg Fifty." He smiles but he still doesn't even look at her. It's more of a formality. "Thanks. Thank. You." Quite frankly, he has no idea exactly what this will bring, but it is quite alright—after all, something will happen.
Plus, these few are already afflicted. There is no pain to bring.
"Okay... Be right back. Stay here." Harmonia walks to the basement door and tries to open it. It's unlocked as per usual. The whirring is now louder due to the opening of the door. A faint bum... badum.... bum.... bum... can be heard. Para takes exactly one step back with his left foot. Not even to just be stupid. A sonnet crosses his mind:
Relinquished from the transit of great times
there was no more semblance of that triumph,
and in the grandiosity of grime
a story was forged, there sat defiance.
From conception to nought, ‘twas an homage;
in its cyclicality no escape.
Fools oft’ have no scope of their assemblage
while artists may observe the core weight.
Elitism’s obstruction brings blossoms;
in death its worth waxed alone negligence.
The bloodshed there obfuscated the sums
of that found born in the grand house of sense.
Alone in the world of ideas fold,
we stare at that wall, treasures left untold.
Harmonia heads downstairs. "Hey Claire, there's a guy named Greg Fifty for you?? Looks like a fucking crackhead." Roxy's playing my singing monsters on one of the computers while Claire tends to the rest, before turning her head to look at Harmonia.
"Greg... Hm."
Roxy pauses MSM. "Oh shit wait hang on that weird guy from Deity? Was that his name or. I can't remember."
Claire, "I believe he introduced himself as such, from what I saw when scrolling up in the group chat." She stands up, her sweatpants covered in a mix of coolant and mineral oil which has formed a bit of a lake in the basement. "He upstairs?"
"Yeah." Harmonia says. "No idea how he got here-"
"He seemed smart, in a strange way." Claire heads up the stairs to greet Para, making her way to the door and looking at him. "Hi." When Claire comes up he is facing away, getting something out of his pocket and placing it against his face. Probably trying to preserve the anonymity.
"I have a matter to inquire on," he says, turning back, speaking clearly for once. Para steps into the room.
"Alright, what's up?" Claire asks, stepping to the side so Para can step in as she opens the door wider. A look of regret would begin to pass over Para's face, and should Claire have been able to see it, maybe they would understand.
"Discord. Alex. Me. We are... h... outsiders. Looking to investigate."
"Oh. Oh I see." Claire has 'nam flashbacks for a second, her irises becoming more orange than red. "That was a long time ago."
"But it is still going on. Is it not?" His voice, for once, actually does have some sort of affect: it is raspy, low, quiet, solemn, decaying.
"Hm. Lucille's reign, yeah. But we're away from it. Far away from it. There's no stopping her, she'll always move on. Alex knows this, she's one of Lucille's nemuru. If you know what that is at all. Also she goes by Ivory now."
"...Why?" Para's head pans down to the ground and he begins to walk around in circles slowly, imagining he is kicking away a can forever. This place begins to feel more like a graveyard by the passing moment. "I am still curious. It is my job to travel. Collect, interrogate issues. I cannot imagine Lucille did not know this." He gives off a sickly cackle.
"Why what?" Claire tilts her head, leaning back on the wall. "She feeds on it, the obsession the R053 pills make. She could do it in better ways, but. She's not a good person."
"This isn't the first time. Is it? It is happening again." Para seems to hold a lot of weight with this idea of recurrence; it is felt in the way he refers to the happenings.
"This is the second time Lucille's made a cult from my knowledge. She may have made more in the past, and will probably make more."
Para searches for the right words to reply with for a time. He isn't as sure about the impossibility of breaking down this 'reign'; but this is not his place to speak, not his place to be. "I know what happened. I read it. Why do you think I was there? It is not my place to solve problems but it is my place to catalogue them. The way they build from one another. Like stairs."
"She hasn't recently affected us much, aside from Harmonia having some recurring run ins with her. Lucille makes her do the same thing I used to do." Claire sighs. "So why are you here now?"
"A proposition." Para shifts on his feet a little bit as he comes to a stop, before coughing. "I'll assist you lot in whatever way I can if I get... information. About your world." She can practically hear the shit-eating grin across his face. "I have some stakes in it."
"..." Claire pauses a moment, her eyes becoming red once more. "We have information. As for things you could do to help out... Not exactly sure on that. Need to think a bit. There's a lot that needs to get done before the sun can rise."
Slowly, Para nods. "I agree to whatever terms you lay out." He wonders if he can get her to come here. If they can get away from that shit. He looks away from Claire, unable to make proper eye contact at this time. A whole flood of possibilities begins to rise, all myriad of suggestions.
Claire stands up, hands folded in front of her. Her mannerisms become a lot more formal, precise. Much thought being put into every signal to every nerve controlling every muscle. "Would you like something to drink? Perhaps some coffee?" She asks with a smile, tilting her head to the side.
Para is very wary of receiving something that is not trustworthy. Despite everything that has occurred, he is still ultimately biological. Para helps himself to have a seat on a couch. He thinks of the film Funny Games (2007) and can't help but laugh. There is nothing behind it. He stares ahead at the other side of the room. "I am quite alright. Name your task." At least his accent sounds slightly more natural. Welsh. Southern. Cardiff? No.
"My task?" Claire tilts her head to the other side in thought. "You mean the R053 Project?"
"No. My job." If there is one thing he is good at, it's keeping from wasting people's time when he's actually focused.
"Hm... I think if you showed up at Lucille's church it'd kind of rattle her." Claire chuckles. "Though, that'd also be putting yourself in danger. Along with... the usual... she's been boasting about having 'the most powerful nonferal'." Another pause. "I realize you may not know what a nonferal is."
"I have read thoroughly." Para is paused for a decent amount of time, as if considering what his options are. He does not know Claire very well on a personal level, and he hasn't even really fully told Claire what his wishes are, the end to what he is speaking of. Frankly, nobody here actually knows him, and to say that Ivory does would be entirely disingenuous.
Slowly, Para lifts himself to his feet. "I am fine. I will go. There will be..." Para pauses for roughly 15 seconds. "...entertainment."
"Right. Do you have any method of contact for when we need you?" Claire steps closer, a bit of coolant dripping off of her sweatpants.
Either way, Para does not rather seem to mind the coolant. It is almost as if he knows exactly what it is they are working on. But he looks around, thinking. "Phone me. 871989940773028763." It is a real number.
"Right. Will do." Claire nods, her eyes lighting up. She adds Para's number to her contacts, and Para can see this on the reflection in her glasses. With that, Para is off and into the exterior world by the time she's looked up. Again, it is almost as if he already knows where to find it, how to go about all of these maddening trials. Claire shuts the door and slinks back to the basement.