(1942-05-09) Demon-Proofing
Demon-Proofing
Summary: True to his word, Frank comes by 'proof' Lillie's homestead. Just what exactly IS this guy?!
Date: 1942-05-09
Related: None.
Players:
frank..lucietta..

O'Cleary Residence, Higsi
Tue May 09, 1942


Here we have a smaller Victorian fixer-upper with good bones. Previously closed up for a couple of years, the well-secured house has avoided the ravages of neglect. The new owner has already begun to work on some of the more 'tired' corners, making this place her own.

The house, circa early 1900's, consists of a larger lower level and a half-storey. A narrow walkway meanders from the road, through a modest fence and into the yard proper. A slight stoop leads one onto a large outdoor landing with a crude-yet-stable porch swing set up at the farthest end of the step. To the rightmost side of the house, one can just barely discern a garden bed and a sturdy shed. Entering the house proper, one is met with a porch, comfortable den, kitchen with pantry, powder room and two small bedrooms. A narrow staircase ascends to reveal a smaller spare room and an attic crawlspace that is accessible via ladder.

The mustiness has long since been chased away by the smell of TLC, good cooking and something faintly floral. Cut flowers or perfume, perhaps?

Weather:
It is spring. The weather is cool and clear.


<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Success.

Today, Miss O'Clery is electing to do some yard work by herself. No raccoons, no visitors: just the road beyond the house, the sighing trees, the distance smells of the earth and fields and perhaps the odd hit of fumes as the rare pickup putters on past. The day, despite the doldrum that the young lady finds herself in, is lovely enough albeit a touch on the cool side. It's clear, and the sun is high and glaring; some of the windows of the homestead, facing that all-knowing orb in the sky, reflect the light as the Empath works in the soil beds below the rightmost portion of the house.

The soil of these beds, it's not been tended to in awhile. The seeds planted here by the long-lost lady of the house? Decimated, fallen due to lack of love and care. Lillie kneels before these beds, her ensemble of tools catching the sunlight beside her as she notes a dire cause. Her brow is knit, her expression filled with concentration as she debates how to make this work. She has been alone for a couple of days now, and perhaps this is for the best. She needs to think.

So there we have it: the window closest to where Lillie works is open, admitting the flow of classical music from an ancient record player that she pulled out and set up in the den. Seems idyllic, right? …. right.

Well, Lillie is not going to be alone for long. Here comes Frank on a bicycle. The older man has a pack on his back that seems rather full. He looks to be focused, eyes scanning the area as he moves. With the rather being slightly chilly, he's got on a jacket. Only the most skilled eyes would be able to tell he's got weapons underneath it. He makes she to make noise as he pulls up, several rocks skittering as the bike comes to a stop, "Lillie? I'm here." he can see her in the flower bed, but isn't sure she noticed him.

Can she hear the approach of a one Frank Russel? Perhaps, though she may have discounted the sound of two wheels on earth as being a passerby. However, when the older man elects to pull up onto her meager property and announce himself, Lillie looks up suddenly from her project and blinks hard. The invitation was given to Frank to come out whenever; whenever convenient, she would be home. She she will not fault him whatsoever for arriving when he does. If anything, his arrival sparks a degree of gratitude in the Empath and she rises from her spot, brushing her hands upon her skirts. She really should get out to a goodwill to get some scrappy old pants, so she's not wrecking her pretty house-dresses. There's nobody here to judge her, now!

For now, she will have to make do. Hair piled up high and haphazard, eyes tired but kind, Miss O'Clery lifts a hand in greeting and leaves the tools where they rest. She is approaching Frank now, skirts swishing, feet bare upon the grass. "Hallo, Frank!" She calls out, feeling immediately worried. Tale was told, his bar was closed recently… it's easily seen, Lillie looking him over to see if he's alright. "It's nice to see you… y'keeping alright? Everything ok?"

Frank's not judgey. In fact he nods, appreciating a woman who can get dirty. He grunts and nods, "Everything is fine. you?" He gets off his bike and lays it down, careful to not rattle his backpack too much. "I'm here to do your house, if that's still what you want?"

Bless his surly heart. Lillie watches Frank get off of the bike and lay it down into the grass, her green eyes then flitting back up to him as he handles that… very full backpack. Huh! She's not one to question much (BAAAAHAHAHA); okay, rephrase that. This is beyond her, this is 'different' territory. Frank is the expert here in whatever it is this… proofing.. entails. Honestly though? She's just happy he's here; he's not looking at her with disdain in regards to working a geriatric garden bed in nothing but bare feet and a lovely dress. Her sense, there but weaker today, gives the old bartender the customary once-over. Trying to read between the lines.

Her sense has gotten her into /too/ much trouble. Whatever it tries to report back to her, Lillie ignores it angrily… stupid stupid sense. It needs to go away.

"Of course it's alright. I'm very glad to see you." Lillie says, meaning it. "Would you like a drink? You must have pedaled quite a ways… I really do appreciate this." Lillie says again as she gives one final wipe of her hands to her dirty skirt and makes to show Frank onto the property. "It's not a huge place, this. I hope I don't take up too much of your time."

Frank studies her briefly, he may not be able to read emotions, but he was married, he knows women, and that they rarely mean what they say. "A water would be good." He's looking around. "Do you go into the shed a lot?" He may have to proof it as well.

What stands before Frank is a genuine example of a woman going through some sort of emotional wringer. But she's a stubborn creature, electing to keep it to herself and manage it through good physical work. Some ladies shop, go to salons, chat amidst themselves to temper that which bothers them. Lillie, well.. she goes to see the prices on cow shit so she can spread this matter along ailing soil beds. She gets filthy, drinks a beer, curses and cries in the shed on occasion when something falls and hits her toe. That's Lillie, and she can't hide it much.

"Of course. I.." She trails off, looking toward the shed. Raccoon lair.. though not since King Raccoon bit it. "I do, I've started to. I store a lot of soil and tools in there. I figure I'll be in there often enough as the weather turns." She admits, before turning on a heel, skirts swishing at her knees. "Excuse me a moment, I'll get that water for you." She insists as she bounds up the steps of the porch. She will be quick!

While she's gone Frank inspects the shed. He eyes a few things he pulls out of his bag, checking them before nodding to himself and pulling out the next thing. Not that he particularly thinks the shed is haunted. But it's better to be safe than sorry. Currently he's checking the foundation, trying to decide between it and the roof.

The only things haunting the shed are perhaps the droppings of the odd mouse, though it looks nice and tidy in there. As tidy as a shed can get anyway meaning.. no more raccoons, no mice or rats or other critters, no dead bodies. Just a melancholic array of the late Mr. Rutherford's tools and a couple of bags of soil, including a big bucket filled to brimming with dirt due to the cleanup efforts with the ripped bag. But it's as unassuming as a shed can get; musty, dusty, begging for use.

Having fetched one of the taller glasses that she hasn't broken yet, Lillie is gliding down the porch steps and padding her way toward Frank as he checks the little structure over. Not wanting to interrupt him immediately, she waits until he sees her and will then hold out the glass of cold liquid.

"If there's anything I can do to help you…. mind you, I haven't the foggiest clue on how.." Lillie smiles sheepishly, blushing a bit. Scarier than Lillie swinging a hatchet: Lillie trying to set up wards to scare away malevolent spirits.

If it were only a malevolent spirit. Frank's studying the shed intently and asks as she hands over the water, "You rather things on the floor or ceiling?" Does that been make any sense? "You got silver in your house?"

Blink, headtilt. Like a curious little bird. "W-well, ah," Lillie starts in her lilting way, looking upwards, downwards and finally back to Frank. She is still trying to understand what is happening… how this grumpy fellow possesses such knowledge. If you would have told Lillie months ago that not only would she have taken over a house in the back country, but the proprietor of the Gallows would there 'proofing' it… how /could/ she react?

But for certain, she is taking Frank very seriously. Her eyes are watchful, inquisitive.

"Does it make a difference? Maybe the ceiling out here, if you're of a mind to put anything in the shed.. anyone coming in here could trip over or disrupt…" She trails off. Silver? Lillie really must think, now. "I'm still going through the things that belonged to the lady of the house. She.. had a fair amount of baubles. I myself have a ring. Why.. is this helpful..?"

Frank nods, looking up again at the ceiling, "You got a ladder?" He's going to need one to get up there and have a steady hand. As for the silver, "Start keeping it on you. Silver can repel all types of nasty things." Now for the really big doozie of a question, "You want it painted or carved?"

What an intriguing fellow. The best Lillie can do is answer his questions properly. "Oh! I sure do," She says quickly, Irish eyes alight with the pleasure of being useful. She's suddenly off bounding across the yard toward the woodpile that has been carefully stacked away for the eventual winter. The ladder is close to, of all places, the step! No no, nothing precarious; Lillie was of a mind to pull crap out of the gutters from the twister. It's awkward but manageable, and the Empath is soon dragging it back toward the shed. Gotta hand it to her, she's enthusiastic even if the sight of a young lady hoofing it across the lawn in a dress, hefting a ladder, is a bit amusing.

"What sorts of nasty things, are you thinking?" She asks, catching her breath. The question catches her off guard and she is honestly quick to answer that, too. "Carved."

Frank lets her, if she feels useful, she'll more likely let him do the scary stuff alone. There's more rummaging in his bag and he pulls out a set of carving tools. "There's monsters out there, Lillie. You know this. But there are ways of detecting them and stopping them. Silver's one of them. Holy water is another. One thing doesn't work on all of them though." He's looking up at the ceiling near the door. "I'm going to carve a devil's trap. if a demon crosses into it, it will be held there till the actual symbol is broke. If something stumbles into it, you come get me immediately. Not anyone else, understand?"

Gently easing the ladder against the side of the shed's exterior, Lillie listens raptly to Frank. Her sense, still languid, nonetheless scopes him out: there's a sort of grim determination, perhaps? Tiredness? Anyway, it's all surface stuff and mercifully — for both parties — not apt to go very deep. She basically knows that this old boy isn't fooling around and if he needs her gone or out of his way, she will do so with no questions asked. Much like when he reprimanded her for getting in a sniff at Eddie, back at the Gallows, he's commanding her respect regardless of tired clothing and scruffy hair.

"I… y-yes.. I know. I just know very little about what they could be, and what works to… keep them away.." Lillie says softly, hugging herself and watching Frank as he rummages for his tools. "It's easier to come upon silver, for me, than holy water. What does silver protect against?" She asks softly, wondering if it's her right to know. But she silences, listening to word of this… devil trap. Her green eyes brighten, lips pressing together into a flat line of worry.

"I sure will. I promise you, I will." Lillie says, feeling unnerved. What would she do if she were to notice this happening? how terrifying would it be?

Frank eyes her, watching to make sure she understands the importance of everything she says, "All types of things. It's connected to the moon. You start wearing that ring." He doesn't like telling non hunters too much, People always end up dead that way. "I'll carve it and then do a smudging. You need to decide what you want done in the house. If you got a rug by the front door I can carve it underneath that and the rug can stay onto of it." And then he moves the ladder and set it up. Time to start carving.

One look into her eyes, perhaps Frank can see that she understands. Lillie doesn't look scared, persay; unnerved? Yes. But there is a clarity there that speaks of… well, he knows mostly what she's capable of. She knows that this world has things /other/ than the 'accepted' norm. He bids her to wear the ring and she nods quickly, holding her right hand to her collarbone and resting her left palm atop it. "Okay.. I'll take your word for it." She says softly. Maybe she can read up on the usage of silver at the library..? Maybe it's just not her business… but somehow that silly ring that she has means a bit more now.

"I do have a rug! Well.. I.. I got it, with the house. Underneath is fine, I'm not picky on what happens beneath the rug." The Empath insists, blushing again. "Is there anything else I can get you? I'm admittedly a bit.. fascinated. No offense, I never would have taken you as the type to prepare these sorts of things." Lillie says softly, praying that there's no offense in her words.

Frank's not trying to create a new hunter, honest. He's got enough blood on his hands. Starting to carve, "I can paint or stain this afterwards, so it's not so noticeable." Hopefully Lillie will not have to explain this to anyone. Small wood shavings fall to the ground as he talks. "Then we'll put it there. I can't put one in every door, so hopefully the front will do."

Worry not, Lillie has neither inkling of what Hunters are and if she did…? No interest in becoming one. This is all purely borne of curiosity, of the desire to please /and/ feel safe. After encountering that awful sigiled man, now the distance between her house and the town proper feels great, vast…. however, why would a demon seek her out? Better safe than sorry.

Watching the shavings fall, Lillie folds her arms across her chest again, feeling a cool breeze as it cuts across the yard. She then moves to stand close to the ladder, just in case she needs to either stabilize it or pass anything up to Frank. She looks up at him as he works, "The front door should be fine. If I hear anything entering the house from another part, I will make my way toward where the carving it. You needn't do every door.. thanks a lot, Frank, really. Did you manage to find that British man?"

Frank doesn't answer at first, but finally, after running his hand over a particular line, "No. But I haven't gotten a chance to go asking around too much. I was fortifying The Gallows." Must be why it was closed. More shavings drop and he adds, "I'll do the carving first," in the house, "And then the smudging. If I run out of time, I think the Devil's Trap is more important."

"Take however much time you need. If you need a rest, I have a spare bedroom." Lillie offers, worried about the distance and the prospect of Frank — yes, Frank — travelling at night. She just cares too much, is all; she hasn't the perception to notice hidden weapons. She won't mention that she catches visions in that spare bedroom… not horrific ones, just /sad/. Only certain points of the day, she can enter that room… one thing at a time. She won't burden Frank with that.

Struck dumb, Lillie's eyes widen. "Oh…! Oh! So that's what was going on!" She exclaims, regarding the old bar. She steps back in case Frank is coming down soon, one slender hand holding one side of the ladder. "I was worried… coming home from town, listening to some of the old birds squawking. But it makes sense…" Lillie trails off. Good God, exactly what is this man?

"Everything is unpacked and put away in the house.. mostly.. it's easy to navigate. The energy feels good in there, which is why I.. want to protect it." And oh, herself too… but hey. "What would a smudge do with /good/ energy? Is it only for dispersing bad energy…?"

Frank shoots her a disbelieving look, why would he need her spare room? Kids, they don't know nothing! And if she has a ghost, well….that's a completely different set of tools he'll need. He snorts, "Bernice likes to talk. She doesn't hurt anything and it keeps her busy." He stops carving to looks down, a few shavings have fallen into his beard, "Good energy? I don't know anything about that." he sounds like he thinks there isn't such thing. "The best houses have none. It's safer, doesn't draw any attention. that's what you want."

The disbelieving look — and perhaps the jolt of emotion to accompany it — causes Lillie to flinch a bit, and blush. "Just an offer, if it's a long way to go. It's just nice of you to come out here, is all. I guess you don't need me clucking over your safety on the back roads at night." She smiles, a bit embarrassed. Word of Bernice sobers her expression some; she's still smarting a /bit/ from their last interaction. "Oh, she's busy. Keeps her safe, I guess, being indoors spinning her yarns." Lillie remarks offhandedly, her tone innocuous. She looks up at Frank again, sees the shavings in his beard, and she can't help but grin a tiny bit. She starts rubbing at her own chin, suggestively… that'd be itchy!

"I guess I don't know, either.. it's just what I feel. I feel things, in houses that have history… the couple that lived here enjoyed a fruitful life, no trauma outside of losing a son to the first war. So.. sometimes I'll just feel something in a room, a good feeling.. sometimes melancholy." A shrug, Lillie blushes. She's embarrassed to admit that. "Anyway… that's what I'm saddled with. I'll take that over demons."

His eyes narrow, trying to make sure she's not scared before she goes back to carving. It's a pentagram of some kind, with runes around it, all in a circle. He nods as he works, "Just because he's a pain doesn't mean she shouldn't be safe." He doesn't seem to notice the shavings. Empaths. Lillie's the first he's met, but he's read about them. "If it gets too much, you leave the house." He's read of one becoming so lost in the past he just stopped living in the present. Not good.

<FS3> Lillie rolls Literature: Good Success.

The young woman nods, understanding wholly. The answering emotion, the concern, reaches her. "Some visions can grip me so hard, I lose track of my /own/ time… it hasn't happened often. Sometimes I recognize when something is calling and I need to get away…" /Sometimes/. But it's a valid fear, and it shows in Lillie's face if one is especially perceptive. That is definitely an acute fear.. what if she's gripped and she can't get out? Or finds herself caught when the real-time location she is stuck in.. isn't safe?

Even Psychics have their dangerous hangups. Lillie's green eyes narrow a bit as she tries to make out the runes, and the pentagram is recognized… no, she does not know /precisely/ what she is seeing, but the books she has perused in the past may have made the /barest/ mention of these… 'special' symbols. All she knows is that this is supernatural mojo, and that's it… Frank is the expert here.

"I wouldn't wish anything awful on Bernice. I would help her… if she needed me." But don't tell her that. Hmph. Lillie feels that tiny pang of hurt but does not expand upon it. She's dying with curiosity on how Frank is versed in such, but she will not distract him.

Frank is nothing but perceptive. He works finally finishing it up. "You won't hurt it by painting it or staining it. It's active now." It doesn't feel any different, but maybe that's because she's not a demon! "I'd prefer to finish the other one before worrying about how it looks." Finally the bartender keep reaches up and flicks the shavings from his beard.

She may be no demon, but she feels as problematic as one to a certain family! Lillie's expression softens then at the abrupt tangent of thought, before she shoves it down hastily. Regardless of not feeling /anything/ different, she has complete faith in Frank's abilities and appreciation spreads across her features. "Thank you." She says, heartfelt, meaning every bit of it. "Hopefully it won't have to do it's job anytime soon.. I don't want anything nasty coming around these parts." She admits, rubbing her forearms at the brief dash of gooseflesh.

"Into the house, then?" She asks, obviously still intrigued to see how this will all play out. Lillie's lips pull up again into a grin as Frank finally dusts his beard.

Frank grunts, a small flash of pain in his knee as he bends over to get his bag, "House, then I'll smudge." He starts walking, not wasting any time. He may need another glass of water, or something stronger before starting the next trap.

The Empath doesn't feel the actual /pain/, but there is a little tingle of awareness in a knee. Then there's the grunt and barest sense of Frank experiencing that discomfort. Lillie's brow knits in concern, and she steps aside to give the man a wide berth. She /wants/ to ask if he's okay but something tells her not to fret. Man, /that/ feels familiar. For now? She obliges and follows him toward the house, keeping pace before ascending the stairs to open the door and hold it open for the bartender. "Do you need another drink? Water? Something a little stronger?" She asks… perhaps he won't be surprised when she picks up on his needs so readily.

She will let Frank make his way into the foyer before she follows him. To enter the house is to see and smell a clean, well-cared-for space with that hint of mustiness. The foyer is small, branching off into a larger den.. but 'lo and behold there is a decidedly ugly rug beneath their feet that Lillie gives one embarrassed glance at, only to look away. "Looks like a dead beaver.."

Frank glances to the sky, looking to see what time it is before he nods, "Sure. Whatever you have is fine." He'll not be snobby. He seems pleased with the foyer, "This is a good size." He lets her go first, she can get his drink while he fusses with the rug, getting down onto the ground. "You can replace the rug, won't hurt it." It does kinda look like a dead beaver.

The Irish girl returns with the same dark ale that she served Clyde, strong and potent… for a beer, anyway. Not the best, not the worst…. what matters is that it's /cold/. A new glass, filled to the top, and handed over to Frank as he's dealing with the rug. A studio portrait of Lillie's parents hang here, watching the scene before them with their open, intense expressions. Looking at her mother, one can see that Lillie shall age well; her father is a brute of a man but with kind eyes and a close-cropped beard. Perhaps they are wondering, in their frame prison, why their daughter is here getting her house proofed against demons when she /could/ have stayed in Boston.

Details, details.

"I will eventually.. it's so ugly it's charming, really." Lillie remarks on the rug and crouches down beside Frank, though at a polite proximity. She helps to ease the rug back if needed, her nose wrinkling at the mustiness of it.

Frank smirks, same has been said about him. He runs his hands over the floor once to get a feel for it before he takes the beer. "Thanks." Half of it is drank before he sets it down near him and gets to work carving.

The Empath is polite, not badgering Frank with questions until it either feels like a good time to do so.. /or/.. the curiosity becomes too much to bear. More of the latter in Lillie's case; you can see a couple of false starts in her body language, her chin canting and mouth opening briefly… stopping, easing back. Eyes flit down toward the floor as Frank works.. she watches his hands as he carves. How can hands that wipe down a bar and slide frosty ones to tosspots… manage something like /this/? Gah gah Lillie can't take it anymore—-

"You born and raised here, Frank?" She asks tentatively.

Frank nods as he works, "Yup." He's not being very helpful. But to be fair, he's concentrating.

(OOC: Faded here, RL ate us. Frank went on to perform a smudge afterwards.)

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