kanni & sinensys

[kanni]

arlow cocked his head ever so slightly, sinking mental claws into conrad's words. heritage. an odd thing to consider, since arlow had spent his childhood here, now part of his adulthood as well, and had never heard the abernathy name before. nothing too suspicious, if one were to recall that relatives and second cousins were a thing, but odd nonetheless. if someone of unknown familial ties was popping back up after who knows how long of a departure from dusthaven to keep a promise, there was a high chance there was something dirty involved. money, maybe, or a political advantage to be had. it didn't really matter to him what it was, but arlow wouldn't stand to see the people of this place get manipulated so a big-town buckaroo could have a heavier pocket. to give the other man credit, arlow was rather biased against him. he'd never been a fan of strangers, especially those from the wealthier parts of the continent. always felt he was being judged if he so much as dared to breath the same air as them.
x
"arlow cassidy, local sheriff," two fingers slipped into his front shirt pocket, lifting the scuffed surface of his badge just high enough to catch the light. should have had the thing pinned on instead of hidden away, but he was off duty unless needed at the moment. honestly, it was hidden away on duty or off most of the time. it made him feel gaudy, and it caught on things.
x
"ice came in a trade deal. don't think it would fly with most people here if we started churnin' out faerie products, but usin' what's been given isn't crossin' the line." it was for arlow, but the kids liked to slip chips into the back of their shirts when the sun became unbearable, and it kept the old men from complaining about not having cold booze at the end of the day. the sheriff was a block of concrete until the youth and elderly got involved. if they asked nicely enough for glamoured coats that switched colors to match their various outfits he was sure he could be pursuaded.
x
"listen, i can't say i know if doc'll let you help him out, but if you've got permission to be here, i won't stop you from helpin'. but don't cause trouble for me, or i'll cause plenty for you." arlow fished a bill out of his pocket, slipping the edge under the corner of his glass. he had an early morning and a stupid meeting to go along with it, and he was out past his bedtime. he was sure he'd see conrad around, sadly, and could always figure more out about the man then. but his half-deflated mattress was calling his name.
x
"sure i'll see you around." standing, his joints popped in harmony again, announcing his departure to the keen ear of gertie. the old woman bustled over, grabbing both arlow and conrad's glasses, along with the faded money. pushing his stool in, arlow made to leave before he could be caught in mundane conversation.

[sinensys]

that golden glint was tucked away, and the name arlow cassidy followed suit --- at last, conrad had name for the man before him. well, not had, to his chagrin, but that was a choice he made intentionally. they knew of fae products, judging by the ice, so 'may i have your name' would have been suspicious out here in the gruff-spoken part of the world. conrad couldn't afford that. not with the way things were going. he raised his brows as if impressed; not even he was sure if it came off as genuine or not, for the right reason or not. "fancy."

"but don't cause trouble for me, or i'll cause plenty for you."

conrad couldn't help the snort that escaped, pushing the glass farther away from him idly. "don't worry, i'll be sure to keep an eye out for the long arm of the law," he bid the sheriff farewell. the fae didn't watch arlow leave, electing to sit at the bar for a few minutes longer in thought, resting on crossed arms. he knew he would have to put in work to shake that man's suspicion --- was it of him being just an outsider in general or of someone more inhuman? irritation began to seep back in, little by little, a curdled mass within. although conrad understood why his ancestors settled here, the contradiction of an inherently water-dependent fae out in what was borderline desert was beginning to weigh on him. but the weight was still not as much as the steady grip of his forced human-oriented pacifism. i should have drowned you all before then, came the bitter, meager thought. i would not have known it then, as i do not know what awaits me now, came the self-soothing a moment later. but i can still let you fall at the hands of your own hubris, resolve whispered in delight.

and so after about half an hour, he returned to his room and lied in wait.

when the long quiet did finally arrive, the kelpie occluded himself in a weak, shimmering cloak: any onlookers would see a vague and rippling shape, an unsettled reflection in the voidal lake surrounding the town. his first order of business was the graveyard --- the one that mattered, not the human one. conrad stood before where the well once was. there the flattened grounds were still bare, red clay peeking out beneath the hastily poured gravel and praire dust, ash attempting to cauterize a wound. after all, there hadn't been enough time for any native foliage to take over the vacancy, and even if some stowaway seeds or roots had snuck in, no rain had falled to permit growth. off to the side, the ancient stone bricks once confining the waters below were stacked neatly, carefully, seemingly for safekeeping; the construction workers had kept it despite their destruction. conrad laid his hand out onto the uneven stones, cooled by the sun's temporary exit; the pressure exerted back seemed to mirror the pressure in his throat as he wept softly. their magic energy had dissipated, and conrad had no idea whether that was intentional or simply a product of their unlinking from one another. both were equally plausible; both were equally unpleasant.

he couldn't sense much water beneath the dirt --- likely, the dismantling of the magic harboring it had allowed it to sink back into the basin below and scatter, drawn out by the dried out soil below. what little remained was thoroughly inaccessible, or would require someone with a different skillset than conrad; the kelpie harmonized with water rather than wield it himself. to some extend, one could argue it held power over him instead. he would have to begin scouting farther away from the town to find a suitable water source, and likely by night as he did now. the thought exhausted him preemptively, that bitter reminder of how foolishly destructive humans were.

a bristling spite overcame him once more.

abandoning the buried well, the fae returned to the general store he'd visited before. it was only slightly larger than the saloon's first floor, but its interior was overflowing with wares: cookware, clothing, and canned goods all vied for conrad's attention. malice forced the still-sealed barrels into unfilled states, vanishing half their contents without undoing the fastenings. conrad did the same for most of the spice jars and canned goods. decidedly left untouched were the pots and pans; conrad would not risk touching iron, even second-hand through magic. his last act of vandalism --- to truly point to faerie activity, his dazed mind attempted to rationalize --- was to have currency occasionally dissipate into an algal blue-green dust as it traded hands over the counter. the general store appeared almost exactly as before, yet was emptier. conrad found it fitting.

finally overcoming the spite, conrad's still-rippling returned to the room, where he collapsed for the rest of the night. the nothingness crept into his dreams.

the following morning arrived too quickly for conrad's liking, but was there nonetheless. after ordering whatever breakfast was available at the saloon and eating most of it, to his misfortune, the kelpie saw to it that he found out more about this doctor creed he'd heard from arlow. as it turned out, doctor hector creed was an old man and, according to gertie, "nobody knows how in the hell that man is still kickin'." conrad found a certain irony in that. humans truly were such dramatic creatures. regardless, the doctor had the respect of the town, and his hoarse word weighed a lot. whether or not he had proper medical training was beyond what conrad could tell. gertie made it seem as though hector could use conrad's insinuated offer of help, and that was enough for him.

and so, armed with this knowledge, the fae left the saloon in search of the doctor's office, carefully tracing a meandering path.

[kanni]

the aforementioned mattress was closer to a wooden box filled with crumpled newspapers than it was to feathers wrapped in soft fabric. while not literally that destitute, the twin sized bed had seen its fair share of users and it showed. the springs sang their displeasure in disharmony with one another as arlow sank onto the gray bedspread, worn wooden floorboards squeaking beneath his feet. the trek back from the saloon hadn't been long, the town center was cozy and everything really was "just across the street" from everything else, but it had been enough for the bone deep weariness that never really left him to crawl back over arlow like a shroud. he was exhausted, and he would be exhausted again tomorrow. while the physical aches were sure to leave by morning, the mental toll this drought had taken on arlow and everyone else was ever present. migraines and IBS abound.
x
at the very least, going to work only meant heading downstairs. the joy of living above his office and a currently unoccupied cell. when arlow's grandpappy had been the big man in charge, the loft had been little more than glorified storage space. with a wife at home and a small plot of land to tend, it hadn't made sense to spend every waking and sleeping hour cooped up in the stale air. arlow had the pleasure of having no one. thus, glorified storage became glorified studio apartment. it boasted the bed, a chest of drawers rescued from the side of the road, a rounded mirror upon the wall, a leather ottoman stolen from the saloon and a coat rack that currently housed more hats than coats. the rest of the basic amenities had been installed downstairs since arlow didn't need extra office space for a deputy. there weren't enough people at this point to necessitate one anymore.
x
arlow let gravity take hold and pull him to bounce lightly against the mattress, eyes quickly fixing upon a slowly spreading water stain that he wasn't sure was actually water. again, they were in a years-long drought. it had been there for a few weeks, and he'd been meaning to get after it, he just hadn't had time. or energy. or willpower. the man closed his eyes, slowly exhaling a long-suffering sigh. the mental list of things he needed to do was ever growing, and fixing a stain was nowhere near the top of it. for now, he was meant to check in with the charlestons and their varmit problem, figure out what to do about the prairie dogs, and meet up with the construction folks to discuss building plans. because lord knew good ol' randy was too high above it all to do it himself.
x
it didn't feel like very long had passed when arlow finally opened his eyes again, but dark shadows had been replaced with squinting against the viscious rays of the morning sun. oh how he missed cloudy weather. after a quick change and a cold cup of leftover coffee from the morning prior, the sheriff was out the door again. a hamster on a wheel that never stopped. he'd decided to brave the construction crew first, as hopefully mrs.charleston would offer him a free meal if he showed up on the homestead around lunch rather than first thing in the morning. the ragtag bunch of southern immigrants and youths rebelling against a traditional education were kind enough, but they never enjoyed hearing about their next orders. arlow pat down his jean pocket to make sure he had the mayor's note still tucked within. something about storage for more ice this time, probably. he hadn't actually made an attempt to read the younger man's chicken scratch yet.
x
standing on the sheriff office's front porch, boot tips halfway off the edge of the first step, arlow had the misfortune of catching conrad abernathy's eye when he glanced up from his pants. delightful. despite wanting to brush past the man and offer nothing more than a shoulder cold enough to abate the heat for a moment, arlow did his duty of town peacekeeper and gave a slight nod at the other man as he stepped onto the gravel street.

[sinensys]

if last night he sought to remain unseen, a shimmering shape in the gloaming, then today his goal was to be seen by all as he played the charade of someone more uncertain, more adrift. the town was not all that big to get truly lost in, but it wasn't small enough that the buildings lied on top of each other. but the closer conrad looked, the more he found things had changed slightly --- and not with respect to these last few nights' excursions. his last frame of reference was about seventy years ago, give or take, and while the kelpie despised humankind, he had seen these streets before in passing. now, in the light of day, he was able to inspect some of these buildings and was struck by the strangeness of how quickly things here could degrade. once-valiant monoliths of pioneering spirit, that bleaching weed overtaking the domain previously dedicated to tall grasses and wildlife, had dulled into weathered pillars, sullen and meek with age. the bizarreness of it had caused him to pause twice now: was seventy years outside the sylvan realm truly this devastating?

...no wonder destruction comes so easily to them. this nemesis is all they've ever seen.

the brief, curious question of whether or not coyotes and hares possessed the same harrowing nemesis came to him. if he looked amused to the public, he didn't particularly care.

the town had changed, and yet hadn't --- aged planks stood beside newer, less discolored ones, fresh wooden hubris still unpunished by the sun's cruel heat. most of the buildings stood in the same places, with the exception of the blacksmith's shop and what conrad presumed to be the stables in the distance. the post office had a second building very closely beside it, as though an addendum more than a replacement, to accommodate a slightly growing town at some point. the tailor's building looked much newer than the others however, which he found odd. granted, the fae found the whole experience to be odd --- uncomfortable, even. he wasn't supposed to be here; he shouldn't have had to be here. once more the vigor of the plan came to him.

just before the doctor's office was the sheriff's, and, as the cosmic hand of fate would have it, out came arlow cassidy with a polite nod. "well howdy, sheriff," the fae stopped his winding stroll. maybe he didn't have to play nice with everyone --- surely he could at least have some form of entertainment while trapped among the most ambling and miserable of creatures. he'd borderline pissed arlow off yesterday, he could probably do the same again: teetering on the edge of polite and obnoxious. the small smile that came to conrad fell somewhere between. "any criminals to keep an eye out for on this fine morning?" the fae turned to face him, squinting ever so slightly as the brightness changed. hats out here suddenly made much more sense. conrad wasn't sure he could convince himself to wear one though.

[kanni]

though the solstice had not yet dictated the turning of the seasons from spring to summer, the angry scorch of the sun made it easy to believe otherwise. midmorning should not require rolled sleeves and a lowered brim, but here arlow was, all but glaring out from beneath his. the dread the sheriff felt at having to face the day in not only an abnormal heat, but with the added presence of his heavy to do list, had just increased ten fold at the sight of conrad's smirk. wether it be a sly one, or just the man's version of a friendly face, it raised the fine hair on the back of arlow's neck all the same. he had no real reason to be this suspicious of conrad, as he'd told himself multiple times in the twelve hours he'd known him, but arlow felt wary all the same. something about conrad was uncanny. unpleasent. yet alluring in a rather frustrating way. curse his fatal attraction to anything that breathed.
x
"not sure yet," the crunch of gravel under boot was as rough as the sheriff's morning growl. "but troublemakers who ask too many questions tend tah end up on my list."
x
arlow didn't really care to stick around for much longer in this heat, talking to this man, when he had better things to be doing. like getting his tasks over with and crawling back to the cool air of the saloon. a daily routine that had gone on for months at this point. he'd never been much of a winter enthusiast, but the appeal of yule and imbolc in the bitter chill was ever growing these past few years. his grandpappy hadn't observed the fae sabbats, but his grandmammy had been devout in her observances. one of arlow's favorite childhood memories was helping the elder woman melt the bases of candles to glue them to tree branches, slowly lighting up the spare trees that had dotted his grandparents' land. from the kitchen windows, they'd all looked like distant stars. sadly, those days were long behind him, and the yearning in his chest was refocused on easier cravings to satisfy. a drink, a bed, some peace and quiet.
x
cracking his neck to punctuate a hopeful end to the brief conversation, arlow moved to pass conrad, boots taking him in the direction of the warehouse site. he could already feel sweat beginning to find places to pool in the dips of his collarbones and beneath the brim of his hat. the sheriff hadn't shaved in a few days, and the scruff that was slowly developing did little to divert any heat from his face. if anything, it felt as though an oversized wooly caterpillar had crawled across his jaw and lain there to sleep. arlow wasn't too keen on wasting water to look society's definition of "presentable", but with the heat growing in intensity and longevity by the day, facial hair removal was looking less and less like a waste. he ran a calloused palm across his chin, huffing softly.

[sinensys]

he didn't even have to resort to fae trickery, meaning conrad at least could entertain himself during his unfortunate stay, even if it was the most tasteless of games. the cowboy clearly wasn't in the mood to chat, but still gave him the dignity of a response. interesting.

"ah! troublemakers," conrad continued, chipper and with brows raised in amusement. he steeled his face to remain otherwise unchanged, lest he give the game away too much. "surely you don't get those too often out here in the prairie?"

arlow cassidy turned to leave, and conrad watched for a moment before he was blinded momentarily: he had shifted ever so slightly into the sunbeam's noxious strike. the sun's indifferent gaze fell over the town, boring into them all. the kelpie could feel that far-reaching heat begin consuming every space available, but the his fear of that burning nothingness hadn't quite reached full levels of alarm yet. he'd never gone more than two days without submerging himself in water, yet today was his fifth day, consequence-free. more temperate climates were his preferred climate --- spring in the fae realm, fall here in the prairie --- but conrad still hadn't perished.

yet his discomfort existed. this he knew. and he knew who was to blame.

his hand came up to shield his eyes from that solar wrath in lieu of a hat, body pivoting away in solidarity. he hadn't given arlow much of a chance to leave before speaking up again. "headed this way too, sheriff? i'm told the doctor's office is right over this way, which is where i'm going." arlow cassidy's irritation should be enough of a distraction from... everything else awful. conrad hoped it was, at least. otherwise he had nothing else going for him besides more misery. conrad smiled as pleasantly as he could: "where might you be headed, if you don't mind me asking?"

[kanni]

there was very little that was craved more in that moment than for the breath he exhaled to be one of cigar smoke, or the next one that he inhaled be beer sliding down the back of his throat. surely, the town wasn't so small that conrad couldn't have come out at any other given moment and chosen another citizen to bother? arlow scratched at the edge of his collar, where the beading sweat had begun to provide friction between the linen shirt and the skin of his neck. he couldn't help but notice that while conrad's steps were shorter than his own, they came at near twice the speed, easily allowing the other man to catch up to the sheriff as he chattered at him. it was almost like being badgered by one of the youngins.
x
"don't get much of anythin'. not since i've been here." arlow sighed, absentmindedly following the gravel road to his destination. fortunately, though hot, the walk wasn't a very long one. five minutes at most. unfortunately, it wasn't a very long one, and coudn't justify grabbing a horse to get away at quick speed.
x
"half of everythin' is this way. half of everythin' is the other," arlow paused to lick dry lips, all but feeling the skin re-chapping in real time. "goin' to the construction site. it'll be a few yards away from the doc's if you need directions all that bad." and once conrad was dropped at the infirmary, it would be a few yards away from him. one less thing to weigh heavy on the sheriff's mind.

[sinensys]

you certainly don't get enough foresight to not destroy your main water source, that's for sure.

"that makes sense," was all he said aloud with a hum.

the fae's hand remained raised as he caught up with arlow, yet even that wasn't enough to fight off the brightly shining seige beyond his fingers. yet through the half squint, he could still see light catching on arlow's sweat and was briefly reminded of his own body's attempt to quell his overheating. sure, he had an easier time with magic aiding him, keeping conrad from entirely mirroring the human's drenched state --- but that didn't mean he wasn't gross and uncomfortable. the summers in the regions of the fae realm he resided in never reached this scorching heat. how the other fae fared here was a mystery to the kelpie. connected to the other realm or not, surely there were better spaces to be in, considering none of them had ancestral ties as he did. conrad turned his mind's gaze away from the thought, electing to ignore it as he so often did. he would deal with it... later. whenever 'later' would be more convenient for him. he had more pressing matters.

"construction site? what's up with the site?" he felt his politely grating mask slip ever so slightly, and rectified it once more with a canted head and a lilted tone: "criminals encroaching, sheriff?"

conrad wasn't sure what spooked him in that moment. maybe it was the fear that one of the fae had let slip something they shouldn't have. maybe it was the harrowing hope that they found water. or the dread that, in the seventy years of his absence, another fae had taken up residence in this tiny, unremarkable town --- one powerful enough to conceal themselves from conrad's wrathful sense. he wasn't sure, but he knew he would find out. being caught off guard by humans against simply wasn't possible, not after last time.

[kanni]

talkative, this one. lots of questions to be had as well, for someone that somehow had ties to this place and also knew about the whole water situation that was meant to be under wraps. arlow hummed noncommittedly, allowing his eyes to wander over the downtrodden buildings to either side of the two men. cobwebs and dust motes decorated porch awnings like bridal veils, long-abandoned front windows shadowed beneath weathered boards. it was a sharp contrast to the newly erected establishments that mayor morrison had been so enthusiastic in his campaign. the bank, though out of sight in the opposite direction, loomed in shades of green and burnished gold. the refurbished clinic on the road ahead of them sported a poppy red coat of paint that made the neighboring forge and pharmacy look all but destitute. arlow wasn't entirely sure why bother with fancy, and rather expensive, new buildings when townsfolk showed zero interest in showing up. no water, no people. it was how it was for any living creature, really.
x
"plan's for it to be an oversized icebox," the sheriff reached into his jean pocket, fishing out the creased paper with the mayor's ramblings hastily scribbled onto it. "formally, a 'never-melt icehouse, for the purposes of storing local produce, pharmaceuticals, and other perishable goods'. very posh."
x
arlow tucked the paper away again, the overly eloquant words in a child's hand leaving a sour taste in his mouth. that, or coffee and toothpaste just didn't mix well. both, most likely. the pair was approaching the site now, the aforementioned poppy red walls of the doctor's clinic almost as garrish as gertie's yule makeup. the only thing the barkeep was good at was making meaningless small talk, it seemed. the sign on the door was small and faded, but arlow knew that despite not being able to read it, it said open. doc lived upstairs, just as the sheriff did in his own office, and was never one to turn away a person in need. as ornery as he may be about it, the man was a generous and soft-hearted soul.

[sinensys]

although he didn't know the sheriff well, the sudden lack of assertiveness and definitiveness with a single hum seemed... off. where before there'd been much more pushback, now lied a thoughtful silence between them. it almost seemed... comfortable. the thought irked him, which rectified the situation in and of itself --- on his end at least. with this newfound energy, conrad made an attempt to inspect the human discreetly rather than gaze at the buildings as arlow seemed to be. after all, there wasn't all that much to be seen, the fae convinced himself. but peering at the sheriff out of the corner of his eye did not reveal many more insights either: dark, deep set eyes, relentless scruff, worn clothes. exhaustion seeped through all of these things, but conrad found that the least interesting --- out here in the prairie in the drought, he found he was a lot more tired too. he imagined being here chronically amplified that feeling. the joys of desertification.

"and here i was under the impression fae products weren't met with enthusiasm --- except the ice back at the- uh, the... the saloon," what started with an amused huff ended with minor scrambling as he searched for the right word. the fae almost said 'bar' --- almost --- but he caught himself in time. what a weird word, 'saloon'. yet 'perishable' was too fancy, posh even. what funny little creatures.

he pulled the lofty, amused mask a little tighter to his chest as the doctor's office drew nearer. he had been prepared to charm his way into a doctor's position, but that didn't mean conrad was ecstatic about the situation. he dreaded the emotional cost of playing nice, knowing very well that once he was at hector creed's side, he would be stuck in a state of faux-care for the creatures that are responsible for his current suffering. it wasn't fair.

the sign stared back for the infinitesimal moment conrad looked towards it, still squinting against the sun. he yearned for dark, misty days where the fog loomed over the water for him to loiter in again.

"does the sheriff need to supervise construction sites often? i'm neither law enforcement, nor a construction worker, so i'm not an expert in this, but surely even in a small town they don't need to be monitored in that way?" the prodding continued. if creed was inside, it at least didn't feel like he was a weaker fae like winnie and the rest of the construction company was, but that didn't make heading in any easier. dragging time out here to piss off the sheriff a little more for his own entertainment was something conrad could afford to do --- especially since he was getting ever so slightly antsy, to his chagrin. he couldn't wait to get this over with.