Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck ! They Were Going To Blame This On Her If It Weren't Some Fucked Up Way Of Telling

"Oh," came out softly, lips pursing in a sort of thoughtful way. "is it a kind of smash the windows out of someone's car or worse? Because let me know, I got a bat." Was she kidding? Maybe, maybe not. The good thing was the fact that she wasn't judging, or maybe it was weird that she wasn't. Who knows? Social situations weren't her favorite thing. She preferred the company of a computer to most; besides the lucky few she actually liked. "You are totally right about that. I just can't get over the fact that people are VAGUELY familiar to me." That's not the entire accurate explanation as to why certain people seemed to vibrate at certain wavelengths in her vision but she didn't explain it. "Doom Woe sounds pretty badass if you ask me. Someone should get on that." What would his superpower be? In her luck, it would just be a slightly mysteriously annoying figure, but wouldn't it be fun if a TV show could warp to the individual viewer? "You wouldn't know my voice. I'm the broadcast engineer so I'm behind the scenes, just like I like it. Dusty and Sera needed someone to step in when little Crash was born, so when they let me, I keep things running smoothly." Learning that he was a vet sparked something in her, so she curiously asked, "You're a vet huh? Got any cats needing a home by chance?" Sure, there were shelters, but Arie also knew some vets kept pets who needed medical help with them while looking for homes, if possible.

“Ooh, well, this is a special situation,” Matevos said, though he’d be lying if he said it was the first time. He’d had special situations before. “A friend of mine is in a very terrible predicament and I can’t do anything to help her,” he said, with a sigh. “Anchorage you mean?” He asked, a tired grin replacing his worried expression. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but such a fun place as well.” He looked confused at the response and shook his head. “Doom Woe? Is that a tv character or something?” He lay the British accent on thick, just to make sure he wasn’t missing something as a Brit. “Matevos, though Doom would be a much cooler name. What do you do at the radio station? Presentor? Maybe I should know your voice, we have the radio on constantly in the waiting room of my practice. I’m a vet.”

She gave a small but mischievous smile. "I wasn't suggesting YOU, but I hear you." Chances are if she was having a bad day, you'd probably be able to convince her to smash someone's windows out. She'd be sneakier about it though -- as sneaky as someone who needed to stay hidden could be, anyway. "Kind of both? I'm not used to small towns where everybody knows everybody. It's definitely a change for me." Arie admitted, leaning back in her seat to point at the brilliant idea. "Me either, but I'll find someone. Just watch. It needs to happen." Hell, maybe she'd fund it. Just because she lived in a sketchy apartment didn't mean she didn't have money. Whether through the station, the Dead Idol or side gigs on the internet ... Mum's the word. "I keep the show going and up to date, computer and technical wise. Some days I set up the live broadcasts. Most nights, I'm making sure quality issues aren't just a cord issue or a software issue." she admitted, voice somewhat filled with pride. "I'm sure your job is much more fun though." As for her wants in an animal, she gave a small shrug. "I get that. I like cats because sometimes I'm not home for too long and I don't have to take them out every few hours for a walk. It seems I have less time these days." But to the question of the matter, she wasn't entirely sure. "Maybe. I have a tuxedo named Ziggy and I don't know, think maybe he needs a buddy but I also know some cats just don't mix well."

Matevos - who did not not enjoy violence - really had to think about the offer. Smashing things did sound like a fun thing to do, and he could use something to get his mind off of things, but then there was the fact that vandalism was against the law and he’d only just come out of police custody. “Mentally, I’d say, it definitely is the type of situation where I’d gladly take you up on that offer. But I promised to stay out of trouble, and I think smashing someone’s car windows is the exact opposite of that.” He looked thoughtful at the other when the ‘vaguely familiar’ was uttered, and then grinned. “You mean you think you know them? Or you think you know someone like them?” he asked, because he was always a little curious when people spoke in vague terms. Not just when they used the word ‘vaguely’. “Someone should, I would make it into a comic… sadly I don’t know how to draw.” Or write stories, or even how to come up with them. Though he would love to make a story about superhero dogs, had that been done already? “Aah engineer,” he said, as if he knew exactly what that meant, though confusion was clear on his face. “What does a broadcast engineer do?” He knew Dusty and Sera, though not as intimately as perhaps he should in a small town like this. “A few yes, I keep mostly dogs, since cats tend to find a home much quicker. People have different expectations for dogs. Are you looking for a cat?” 

It's always a debate in her mind; just how much would she give the residents of any place she settles, even just for a day or a few months, the truth of herself. In this moment, however, it was a side of truth. No, she wouldn't rat the woman out. In fact, she found a sort of adrenaline in the woman's action. "I haven't decided yet actually. There's a pretty sick green and blue one I've had my eye on for a while but I'm also thinking three shades of purple that just came in. In again, I'll probably end up getting them both." She was, after all, a sucker for wigs. In fact, reds were typically used AS Hashtag. A mask on top of the mask safely tucked away in a place no one would find. "I think fun and shiny but I'm not above a full face of makeup. Oh here, look." she says, pulling out her phone to look up the wigs she had been looking at.

Frozen in place while the other looked over the display, brown eyes wide as Ava waited for some indication of whether or not Arie would sell her out for what she'd seen, the hairdresser realized that she vaguely recognized the woman as one of her neighbors. They'd only crossed paths a few times, as was bound to happen living in such close quarters in her already miniscule hometown, but she really didn't know much about Aretha personally. So when she took on a chipper tone, making it clear that she didn't intend to snitch, Ava's lungs deflated with relief, returning Arie's smile with one of her own. "Well, what does your new wig look like? It's kind of my area of expertise, so I can help you find just the right thing to make the whole look pop," the brunette boasted, flipping her own raven locks back with a flick of her free hand. Hoping that her offer to help could serve as a token of her gratitude for her silence, Ava turned her attention to the palettes of eyeshadows across the aisle, the tube of stolen lipstick still burning a hole in her pocket. "So, are you just looking for something fun and shiny for your eyes and lips, or did you want a full face worth of new makeup?"

"You're still important." Arie pointed out. Diners worked a lot like computers, as did any business and their employees. She saw it as coding rather than the human race. Weird? Mabe. It helped, a little, but it was just a reminder to pay better close attention to her surroundings. She had a habit of scrolling the dark web and chatting with a penpal of sorts once she got into it. The world could've literally ended, and in some ways it had, with the recent death effecting everyone around her in a way that couldn't get to her the same way. If it had been someone else, someone close to her whether she'd admit it, she'd be a fucking mess right now... but either way, she'd still be here in this moment. She just needed to unwind regardless. "It's a pleasure to meet you officially Suraj. Better circumstances too, I'm sure." Because this wasn't for some business gain but rather personal and Arie needed personal.

Arie laughed at their joke, facial features warming with amusement. "Everyone has moves. We just need to find yours." Maybe a stretch but as she took their hand and lead them to the dance floor, she locked eyes with a familiar figure and called out to her. "Show me what you got Lacey." For a moment she let go of their hand and joined the woman, giving them a show. "Sometimes it's in the hips like this."

“Oh uhm, no worries!” Suraj cut in right away. It was almost normal to be ignored when they were working, whether they were serving or washing dishes. “I uhm, I mostly wash dishes anyway, so you probably wouldn’t have seen me anyway,” they added quickly. That and the fact that Suraj was great at being unnoticed. “Nice to meet you, Arie,” they said quickly, to make sure they wouldn’t forget the name. “I am certain you aren’t,” they added. “And else you can blame it on the music being too loud,” they suggested. A joke that had been used on them twice already in different circumstances, and one they liked. They blushed offer, having to consider it for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Sure,” they said. “Though let's keep calling them moves and not good moves because I am a very bad dancer.” They held out a hand to her, given how crowded the dancefloor was, attempting a self assured smile. Rare moments of confidence had to be taken advantage of, and the fact that they’d seen her about a dozen times now, made it much easier. They’d rely on the safety of the crowd.

Americans and their need to join one thing with another ... but never mind the fact that she herself didn't have a specific citizenship, The one in Greece was sketchy at best considering Aretha Hatzi was presumed dead anyway. Pretty sure she'd be dead in absentia by this point; but Arie hadn't given much thought to look into the woman's life all that much in a few years. Ice cream and coffee? Two very opposite things and yet, she had to admit, the smell was nice at least. That didn't stop her from ordering a large coffee, black, two sugars.

Minding her business would be easier if people didn't randomly speak into existence a conversation, even if it wasn't really for her. "Depends, pal. How many cups have you had so far?" Arie wondered, doing some calculation of just how much caffiene would kill a man who looked as sleep deprived as he said. "I'm surprised quite frankly. Don't most brains shut off the need to sleep for awhile at some point? That's not to mention the fact that you'll start slipping into micro naps eventually." Which could suck, if he's driving.

LOCATION: THE CREAMERY ICE CREAM & COFFEE BAR @anchoragestarters ( no cap )

Getting arrested on suspicion of... something, was rather rare for Matevos, even if he led a life of crime on the side. He more often got off with a warning or he managed to avoid getting caught all together. This time was different, but he didn’t try to think about it too much. Because he did wonder what had happened to Fallon and Rei. He knew they weren’t responsible, that was such an out-of-this-world idea that even the fact that they had been accused was laughable. Still. 

Part of him felt like he hadn’t given his ruse his all, worried that he could’ve done more to make sure they were let go just like him.

He ordered another coffee and downed it like a man possessed, leaning his full body on the table and staring at the empty coffee cup. “At what time do you think caffeine stops working? I’ve been awake for 72 hours and I’m not sure this is doing what I want it anymore.”

She wasn't entirely sure she felt emotions like sadness, grief, loss or some days even true joy. No, the feeling she held in her chest was something of a gnawing sort of knot of chest muscles. Her life was meant to be nomadic in a sense, never putting down roots, always being disposable if she were lucky to be forgotten or not. Dropping her in this danky and not so quaint place? Maybe she felt like IT WAS HER TIME. They swore she had a job to do but she hadn't heard a fucking peep from them since before she got here six months before. There wouldn't be a mission, there wouldn't be an end. They sent her to her demise, destined to become a forgotten member, forced to pretend she was Aretha Hatzi, but denying it in the same motion. Negative emotions didn't have a name to her in the same way; but she knew that she could either blame the original for her addictive and dangerous tendencies, or embrace them as if no, that's just me.

This wharf, in this moment, seemed like a meeting place for the emotional. Something was in the air. Arie let out a chuckle, shoulders bobbing. "I'm not much of a runner but thanks for the warning," she replied as her fingers searched for a cigarette. Menthol, some off brand of Newports, but still satisfying the craving she held now. "I wouldn't blame them if they do. Staying here might just be, well, a dumb fuckin' thing to do."

@anchoragestarters ; anchorage harbor ; CAP ( 0/4 )

The squalling clang-clang-clang of a metal bell where the barges were entombed in a temporal watery grave was overlooked by a hill where Cyrek stood now, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie loosely clinging to the bag of bones. As a teenager, he could recall weaving in and out of the shipment freights in the deadened wintry nights with his band of degenerates, including Fallon and Stella — as an adult, he'd stalled on the thought of sneaking to one of the shipments and hiding out until it took him somewhere else. His first instinct to crop problems was always to pack up and skip town. Unfortunately, that was an unviable option now, his lower lip sucked in an encumberment of crooked teeth and worrying away at the skin. Ginger curls splayed over his countenance, the musk of saltwater wafting to his corroded nose as it was carried by the wind, grey skies clouding out the consistent sunshine. Eventually, his head shied away from the inlet he was staring at pensively as the approach of another person alerted the right half of his senses to their presence. It was scenic enough and a stone's throw from the wharf — he could see why people milled around for more than feeling sorry for themselves. "Heard it's goin' to Seattle, could catch it if you run, mate," he jested, dipping his head in the direction of the barge shipment. Bringing the joint he had been clutching onto back to his lips, he inhaled. "Already saw the for sale signs goin' up around Delilah's Den and Campbell Park. Reckon they'll sell as fast as they wanna beat it outta dodge?"

𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄❜𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

--- living in the seal harbor apartments, arie made the choice to fix up her apartment as best as she could. the paint is chipping in some areas and the most furniture she has would consist of a bed frame made out of pallets, a couch, two tvs (which one is sometimes playing a fireplace scene) and a place to leave her computer things. there are candles, plants and lots, and lots of blankets because it's always cold and arie likes fluffy pieces of comfort. if you're someone she likes, she keeps your favorites stocked in the kitchen area. her favorite part? the one window in which her cat, ziggy, likes to lay and wait in so she always sees him when she's approaching from below. does the place allow animals? maybe not but they also haven't fixed her "kitchen" sink so they can get over it.

The guy's poor heart, she thought, before thinking about what it could do to his brain. "I wouldn't worry now. I'd worry if you keep doing it; that all catches up to you eventually." But maybe she's wrong and wouldn't she know it? IF SHE KNEW THE TRUTH, she'd be less concerned with whether he'd drop dead from a heart attack or his brain deciding to shut down. "Just don't go micronapping and find yourself in some weird situation. This place is weird enough as it is." Maybe it's weird, maybe she's had too many people asking her deep things that she finds herself not asking, not because she's not curious, but because she hated the twenty questions herself. If he wanted to tell her why he was worried, he could. She wouldn't push. "Woe is you," Arie let out a little laugh before extending a hand, "I'm Arie. You'd see me more, probably, if I didn't find myself devoted to my job at the radio station. So Woe, is that a middle name? Is your first name Doom?"

Matevos looked at the stranger, frowning, then made an effort to shrug. “A few,” he said. “Probably about ten every twenty-four hours,” he guessed. “Definitely eight every twenty-four hours.” He was making the same calculation, trying to figure out if he could kill himself with caffeine and if he should be worried. His heart was beating rapidly, yes. But also… he wasn’t technically human, he wasn’t sure if this was going to affect him the same way as it would the original Matevos Hakobyan. “I did have a few micro naps here and there,” he said. “But you know, it’s kind of hard… too much worrying,” he added. “Not that I have nightmares, but I always wake up again.” He sighed. “Oh woe is me.” He paused, let his head lean on his hands. “And who is you?” 

She didn't pay much attention to the deaths around town; not in the same way that most would. Perks of not allowing anyone to truly get close to her, she'd suppose. Arie, or Hashtag rather, didn't have time to truly make friends with anyone. That only meant not only caring about people she'd never see again AND letting someone know the fucked up lifestyle she lived. The only evidence that she knew there might be some sort of wrong in her life was seeing just how damn boring the people of Anchorage were. Stepping into the flower shop wasn't a social call which in again might be a clue of her mindset. She wasn't looking for flowers to show mourning and grief, but rather looking for a type of flower she had happened upon in a flash of a dream and it left her brain with a certain itch or hankering --- but not to eat, no.

Her eyes scanned the selection before looking to the voice who spoke, giving a small sort of smile. Maybe a little shy? But Arie wasn't shy. No, Aretha Hatzi wasn't shy. She commanded attention and rubbed everyone wrong, if her missing person's case was any factor of her disappearance.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied with a haphazard shrug, "I'm not looking for those but rather, well, what are the chances you've got hyacinths? I'm not from around here, so I don't know if it makes any difference." Considering the flowers she was thinking of grew in much warmer climates; and in particular, possibly Greece. She hadn't done research before coming, not sure why, but having the sense that the flowers just might be HER favorite, if it hadn't been Aretha Hatzi's. @hercule-boisseau

Status: open @anchoragestarters

Where: the Flower Basket

Hercule hears the telltale sound of the bell at the door ringing, indicating that someone has entered the store. With the recent death, the flower shop had experienced more business than usual. Everyone in the town, it seemed, wanted to express their condolences for the death of Willow Amelia. The former dancer didn't mind the business, per se, but they did find it interesting that people seemed to band together when it came to death, even if they didn't know the person.

He hadn't been connected to the girl so he didn't feel the need to mourn, but his heart did go out to the family and friends of hers. They understood why people wanted to express sympathy and in a way, he found it endearing that people care enough to. He approaches the cashier station, taking in the array of flowers leftover from the past couple day's orders.

"I'm sorry to say that we're all out of lilies and orchids, we've had a large influx of orders recently. Haven't been able to keep them in stock, really. But, I can arrange a bouquet for you with any of the other flowers we have as of current." The two blossoms they listed were common when it came to grieving, lilies offering hope and orchids saying "I will always love you". Even though he hadn't worked at a flower shop for long, he had recently become keenly aware of the types of blooms used for funerals and mourning.

There REALLY wasn't much that made her lose her steely cool tone often. After all, she was meant for something else; not just living but rather living in the shadows. Being the glitch out of the corner of your eye, that determined whisper of "DID I JUST SEE THAT?". While she wasn't made to be a killer, she was in some aspects. The killer of hope, the killer of dreams, the reason you avoid the internet... and sometimes, only sometimes, a killer if needed. While she still hadn't been given her mission or reason for being in this town, she had gotten somewhat close to the people in it. Her definition of weird, is well, sparked by the video. An emotion rises in her ---- confusion.

The words out of her mouth are strange to her. "You need to give this to the police, man." Yeah, it's pretty obvious of what needed to happen. "Do you have cameras in here? Maybe it's..." Did she really have to say it? Whoever left the tape could've been the person involved.

Status: Open @anchoragestarters

Where: Slashback Videos(again). No cap!

Hunter stared at the new dvd on the shelf, dumbfounded by how and why it got there. He recognizes "the main character", of course he does, and it feels like some sort of sick joke that someone would pull something like this. They don't remember seeing this when they got a new shipment in and if they had seen it they probably wouldn't have put it out.

He can't seem to tear his eyes from it, mind filled with the possibilities of how it might have gotten there. Their only theory is someone must have broken into the store and put it on display, for some twisted reason. When someone walks up to him in the store, he's quick to respond. "My guess is as good as yours, I dunno how that got there. But whoever did this has gotta be real sick in the head to pull this kinda stunt. Honestly, I can hardly believe it."