2025-03/27 - A Strange Tune

It's a rare afternoon that Artemisia gets off, although she has to work the evening, so she is to be found cleaning her apartment. A bandana is tied around her blonde hair in a black and red gingham and she's dressed in a pair of worn jeans and cropped t-shirt promoting the faded image of a band.

Knock knock. Who's there? It's Carl, standing outside with a bag of donuts and shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. He's finally out of his winter clothes, which isn't necessarily a good thing for anyone who isn't colorblind - the jeans are fine, but the shirt is something else, black and patterned all over in bright green cactuses with neon pink flowers.

He texted ahead to ask if he could swing by, and to find out where to swing by to, exactly. He wants her to listen to something? He didn't seem like he wanted to explain it all in text, if he could help it.

"Carl!" Artemisia greets as she opens the door. "Come on in. I've got a fresh pot of coffee started. You're a coffee drinker, yeah?" They've had breakfast together enough. She smiles at the wild pattern of his shirt with genuine appreciation. Artemisia is also not known for somber fashion. "I love the shirt."

Carl is one of those guys who always feels like an intruder stepping into somebody's living space for the first time. It comes over in his body language, the slight hesitation before stepping inside, the way he looks all around from spot to spot like he's nervous to get caught staring at anything. The compliment catches him by surprise, and seems to set him at ease.

"Thanks," he laughs, looking down at his shirt and tugging at the collar. "Ex used to say my fashion sense was grounds for divorce. Coffee sounds great. Brought donuts." He holds up the bag and gives it a shake by way of demonstration, setting it on the coffee table. "Got a jelly, couple crullers, an eclair if you're feeling fancy. Help yourself. Nice place."

"You - are my sugar hero," Artemisia informs Carl with a touch to his arm, all welcome as she ushers him in. "I'd love a donut. Have a seat. Do you take milk or sugar?" She wonders all smiles as she bustles to the small kitchenette. The style of the apartment is comfortable and softly asian in the arrangement of the furniture and use of natural woods. There are bright pops of color and delicate details to balance it out. "Your ex was boring," she decides after regarding that shirt for another moment. "I like it. I'd wear it."

"Thanks. Other than furnish it somewhat I did nothing," she jokes, returning from the kitchen with two cups of coffee and a checkerboard print pitcher of milk and a yellow sugar bowl. Artemisia likes color. There are also plates. It's too much for her to carry on her own so it's all set onto a wooden tray that looks bamboo in make with bright pink handles.

"Found it at Ruby's, can you believe it? People toss out the best stuff," Carl says, taking a seat as invited. "Both, thanks." Whatever nerves were bothering him when he came in seem thoroughly anesthetized by the warm welcome. He nods his head when she sets down the tray, then doctors his coffee with milk and sugar, plenty of both. He unrolls the top of the bag and sets it down by the plates, letting her make the first selection.

"So, uh, about why I'm here. Not sure how much needs explaining, seems like some folks have heard it all before, for others it's all new." It sounds like he's closer to the latter camp, the way he says it. "You familiar with the weird music people have been hearing lately?"

"I love Ruby's," Arte says with a grin, still wearing her head scarf as she takes a seat on the couch. Once Carl has fixed his cup, she pours her own - milk and sweet - and reaches for one of the donuts without much concern for which. There's a sing-song four note pitch from the floor, which causes the blonde to laugh. "Okay Fluff. You can have a piece." If Carl looks down, he'll spot a fluffy, dove grey snugglebunny with one floppy ear as Artemisia hands it a donut piece.

"Music?" Her brows rise with interest. "No. I haven't heard about that at all," Artemisia admits.

"Aha! The famous Fluff! Nice to finally meetcha, little guy," Carl grins, distracted momentarily from his exposition as he watches the little puff of a creature eat part of a donut. He can come across as a bit of a cynic, sometimes, but he's not immune to egregious cuteness. He shakes his head and clears his throat after a moment, looking up with surprise. "No? Figured you'd be the first one people went to. Huh."

He takes his phone out of his pocket and starts fiddling with it as he explains: "Well, I just learned about it, myself. Don't know a ton. But, yeah, there's been this weird piano tune playing all around the park for a while now? Like out of nowhere, not canned atmosphere or any of your buddies or anything. Managed to record some of it the other day, thought maybe you'd recognize it, or... could play it back, maybe, I don't know."

"Yeeees." Bending down, Artemisia scoops the bunny up so that Carl can meet Fluff. Properly. Fluff does not let go of their piece of donut. In fact, the rabbit settles on the couch between them. "I still don't know a lot of people yet," she admits with a tip of her head.

"Play it?" She requests, leaning in to listen attentively with a furrow to her brow. "That's weird," Artemisia says after a long moment. "I don't- I don't know that piece." That causes her to frown. "I know a lot of music. Like. Not all. Obviously, but."

Carl gives the little critter a scritch between the ears, clearly delighted by the opportunity, and he continues to do so with his free hand as he thumbs through his phone for the recording. He turns the volume way up and hits play, angling his screen - which has a spiderweb of cracks that wasn't there when he showed her the pictures of the shadowmanders a while back - so that she can see the accompanying video.

It's like something out of a ghost hunters show, perhaps unsurprisingly, given who's presenting it. Shaky footage of a flashlight beam shining down a dark tunnel, eerie piano melody coming from somewhere in the distance. After a little while the music stops, and a young girl's voice can be heard saying, "I can hear them sometimes. When I play the song. Do you think the song is the key?"

He hits pause. "Creepy, right?" He seems a little disappointed but not terribly surprised that she doesn't recognize the tune. "Guess it was a longshot. D'you think you could play it back? Maybe write it out? I can send you the video."

Fluff sings their little happy four-note song for the scritches, nuzzling their head into Carl's palm eagerly having finished the donut. "Play it again?" Artemisia requests, moving to open a songwriting app on her phone. This time she listens intently and takes down the notes as she hears them - getting the rough measure of the song. "It's a little distorted so, I don't know if I have the note timing quite right but it's a start? Send it to me and I'll get you something better."

Carl plays it back again. He finally picks a donut out of the bag himself, eating it as he watches her work, obviously impressed. People who can do that sort of thing are as magic to him as the ones that can fly or turn into horses. "Knew I could count on our Lady Grey. I'll shoot it over, just a sec." He screws with his phone a moment longer, and it's sent.

"Thanks. That should make it easier to track down. Uh, if you want to help out with that when you've got some free time, I'm sure you'd be better at it than I would." He hesitates for a moment, something like embarrassment on his face. "There's, uh, there's a little more. I said the music was playing out of nowhere, but this time that's not strictly... well. Easier to show you."

He swipes over to the next video on his phone and lets it play without commentary. It seems to be in the same tunnels as before, standing in front of a section of drywall that some unknown vandal has knocked a big hole out of. On the other side, a cavernous hole and a rock face covered completely in bronze piping studded with little digging tools and glowing glass orbs. The music plays, the same song, and the globes change colors with the tune. There are a number of people murmuring in amazement in the background.

After maybe half a minute whoever's pointing the camera stops aiming it anywhere useful and it's just footage of the ground as they approach the hole, and a moment after that there's a flash of light and then a thud, the phone and the person holding it being launched violently backwards. That explains the cracked screen, anyway. There's more, but it mostly seems to be groaning and cursing, and he stops the video.

"Oh..." The single word is breathed more than said as Artemisia stares at the glowing piping. "Can you take me there?" She elaborates, "Once I get the music down. That is. We'll be able to see if it reacts in the same way. Or if it'll react to other songs."

Carl chews his lip, thinking. "Maybe? Security showed up pretty much right after that, I think they've probably got it walled back up. If they don't, they're probably keeping a pretty close eye on it." He doesn't seem hopeful, but he doesn't want to say 'no'. That sounds like a good idea, in his book. "I'll poke around a little and see. It was in the tunnels they're digging out for that new ride on the Boo'edwalk, the Escape thing."

"Don't do anything that'll get you in trouble," Artemisia says gently, touching his arm briefly.

Carl's eyebrows shoot up, just for a second. He's not used to expressions of concern. He takes a swallow of his coffee and laughs. "Don't worry," he says, "I won't. I need this job, and anyway, I got enough excitement when that thing bounced me off the wall." He rubs his temple at the memory. "Still trying to make sense of the stuff I saw. Pretty sure some of it was real."

"I-" Artemisia hesitates for a moment. "I would assume most things here are real and then be proven otherwise if they're not." She offers him a little smile. "Seems safer that way."

Another laugh. "That's... a good point. If somebody told me he saw pink elephants walking around this place, I think I'd just believe him." Carl gives a look down at Fluff, and gives the rabbit another pat, and nods. Yeah. "Just put in a call to Starlight without even smelling for liquor on his breath. I guess skepticism doesn't really cut it, in our complicated world of magic and... Valentines bunnies."

"I'd ask where they are. I'd really like to see a pink elephant," Artemisia admits with a small smile as she polishes off her donut. There's some sugar on her lip which is washed away with a sip of coffee. "I think- in some ways we need to accept what we see and then determine if it is harmful or not. Something is happening here. It's wonderful and scary and I- I don't know." She pauses. "I never thought something like this would happen to me."

"Right? I never thought something like this would happen to anybody. I always liked stories about magic, but I was too smart to ever believe in it." Carl blows a raspberry. So much for being smart. "It's kind of crazy, the way we all... I mean, this should change everything about everything, right? New animals, people that can fly, people growing horns and scales and..." He gestures at her eyes. She knows. "Not to mention proof of life after death. And what do I do? I clock in every day and scrub toilets."

Artemisia's eyes warm and flicker with pink as he gestures towards them. "Yeah, but it doesn't go beyond the islands it seems like?" She notes. "Not that I've seen at least." There's a small giggle and she shakes her head at him. "Well, we do what we would do in a world where this was real - standard, really - we don't chase it down and try to trap it we just- live with it I guess."

"It doesn't until it does, anyway. The times they are a-changin', faster all the time it seems like. You're right, though. I guess I just... you imagine something like this, in your head you always kind of make yourself the protagonist, right? At least," Carl chuckles and looks away, realizing as he says it that's an embarrassing thing to admit, "I always did. But life's just life, whatever surprises it rolls out."

A sigh. "Still, wouldn't mind figuring out a little more about it all. Couldn't hurt to know, could it?" He squints one eye, immediately imagining a dozen ways it could.

"So what would Carl - the protagonist - like to do about the strange lights and music?" Artemisia inquires with a lift of her brows. There's no teasing in her tone, instead it's thoughtful. "I'd like to know a little more too," she admits.

"Well, ideally there'd be a call to adventure, which naturally I'd reject at first," Carl muses, managing to keep a mostly straight face, "just to stay relateable, you know. Then a mentor would show up who could do all the really heavy thinking for me." He grins, and looks down at his coffee, and actually considers the question.

"But since we can't count on Joseph Campbell to save the day, I guess I'd do what I'm doing here. Share I know with other people, find out what they know that I don't. I get the feeling a lot of us have little pieces of what's going on. If we start putting them together, maybe we'll get a better idea of the big picture." He rubs his chin. "Really need to pick up a corkboard and some string."

"Sounds like you're going to lead the investigation," Artemisia notes with a smile. "You can count me in for whatever help a musician can provide." Fluff chirps optimistically. "Thanks Fluff."

"Nobody wants me leading anything, trust me," Carl laughs, holding up one palm and shaking his head. "But I can do a little networking. I met a lady not too long ago, actually, who's been doing some digging herself. A tourist, actually, academic type. She inherited some old journals that might have something to do with all this. She's been sending me and some other guys around to dig up some things. Kind of literally, there was this old lab underground."

He rubs his chin, thinking. "Now that I know you're interested, I can put you in touch? If I can't take you to the big machine, some of the stuff we brought back might be the next best thing. I'm no expert, but I'd bet money they're connected, and you'd be a lot more helpful with the piano angle than anyone I can think of."

"I'll do my best," Artemisia promises, offering Carl a kind smile. "And all of that sounds - wild. Just wild."

"You're telling me. Had to visit the mainland and everything," Carl says, like that's more unbelievable than magic machines and underground laboratories. "Gave me the screaming meemies. Didn't know how used I'd got to feeling..." He gestures around expansively, almost spilling his coffee. He doesn't, and he looks sheepish after. "Like having a stopped up nose, or a plugged up ear, or something."

"Anyway, I'm glad you're on board. Sure Waverly," that must be the lady he mentioned, "will be too. So far she's been getting help from a janitor and the guy who runs the dog circus."

"Add an artist to the mix and we're almost a Scooby gang," Artemisia jokes, her nose crinkling with the breadth of her smile.

"You can pull double-duty 'til we find one," Carl says with a crooked smile. He finishes off his coffee, then checks his watch, and sighs. "I gotta get running, try and catch up on a little sleep before my shift tonight. Thanks for the ear, and the hospitality. I'll keep you in the loop, anything I learn from now on."