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xp_logs2024-09-04 09:28 pm
xp_dominion) wrote in xp_logs2024-09-04 09:28 pm
Entry tags:
Dixie Dead Shake - Log 6
Amanda and MA wander around their old haunts as a few details don't seem to fit.
It might not be Mardi Gras, but New Orleans was always abuzz with minor carnivals, Saints day celebrations, local events, and of course, tourists by the bus and plane-full. Walking around was the familiar sense of slipping into a warm bath as their time in the city and with the community came back in waves.
Humid air, the smells of creole spices and beer and lake water and the press of humanity, and Marie-Ange took a moment to inhale. New Orleans wasn't home, New York was, after so many years, but her time living in the city had been as grand as it had been harrowing. She had been glad to leave at the time, and just as glad to return every chance she could, knowing that she could leave freely, safely, without obligation. "It should be close." She said to Amanda. "But by now I would have expected... " She wasn't quite sure. A bump and drop, a phone call, someone making eye contact on the street - one of the members of the neighborhood who acted as lookouts. "Rude if I just take the trolley all the way to Daniel's office, but I did not know my favourite medical examiner had moved offices."
"Yeah, there's a bit of that going around." Amanda had discovered the house she'd lived in during her stay in the city was now an Air BNB, with no news as to where her former landlady or roommates might have gone. "Is it me or is there some kind of vibe going on?"
"Very much a vibe. That record store should have known me, I looked at all the right albums. Even if it was outdated, someone should have done the Star Wars joke, about 'it is an older code but checks out'. I even looked at the John Williams albums to make sure I was suggesting I might not be up to date." Marie-Ange said. "I want to stop and get sandwiches before we try any other routes. Give people time to text, snapchat, call. None of us have been here in a long time, nor leaned on any resources. It could take time for the word to get to the Guilds."
Amanda didn't mention that it had never taken time previously, choosing instead to give everything the benefit of the doubt. Neither of them had spent much time in New Orleans since M-Day, so it was possible that things had changed. "Let's see if that po' boy place is still there," she suggested instead. "It should be around the corner."
It was, technically. The restaurant on the corner sold po'boys, and had the same name. It still had a few tables outside, the little wrought-iron fence separating the tables from the sidewalk, the awning over the patio was still the same cream and grey. The menu had changed, fusion po'boys, bahn mi sandwiches, tofu panini. The decor had changed, framed abstract art and 'awards' from food magazines. Marie-Ange stood staring at the menu board, and turned to look at Amanda. "On one hand, I do want a birria fusion po'boy, and on the other, I only want it to taunt people."
Amanda made a grumbling noise to herself and muttered something that might have been "fucking hipsters" under her breath before looking up at the menu herself. "Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here."
Marie-Ange took out her phone, and tapped out a text. "I wager this menu was designed to have items from the last two years of food trends. Birria, bahn mi, I imagine if the sushi burrito was not already over, it would be on here." She finished her text, and sent it. "I told Jubilee about it, she will eat everything on the menu. Thus fulfills my obligation to eating it to taunt people. I think we just walk another block and find somewhere less manufactured."
"Works for me. There has to be something less.... this somewhere along here." Amanda's reply was almost plaintive.
"I know things changed, but this is just..." Marie-Ange said. "It is not as though I do not keep contact. This is extremely odd." She continued tapping along her phone as they walked, and finally let out a relieved noise. "The fish place is still there. No website, no grubhub, and my yelp review is still on the page." She stopped and leaned against a streetlamp for a moment. "I thought for a moment we might have fallen into Clinton's portal."
"To be honest, an alternative dimension would be less weird. At least we'd
It might not be Mardi Gras, but New Orleans was always abuzz with minor carnivals, Saints day celebrations, local events, and of course, tourists by the bus and plane-full. Walking around was the familiar sense of slipping into a warm bath as their time in the city and with the community came back in waves.
Humid air, the smells of creole spices and beer and lake water and the press of humanity, and Marie-Ange took a moment to inhale. New Orleans wasn't home, New York was, after so many years, but her time living in the city had been as grand as it had been harrowing. She had been glad to leave at the time, and just as glad to return every chance she could, knowing that she could leave freely, safely, without obligation. "It should be close." She said to Amanda. "But by now I would have expected... " She wasn't quite sure. A bump and drop, a phone call, someone making eye contact on the street - one of the members of the neighborhood who acted as lookouts. "Rude if I just take the trolley all the way to Daniel's office, but I did not know my favourite medical examiner had moved offices."
"Yeah, there's a bit of that going around." Amanda had discovered the house she'd lived in during her stay in the city was now an Air BNB, with no news as to where her former landlady or roommates might have gone. "Is it me or is there some kind of vibe going on?"
"Very much a vibe. That record store should have known me, I looked at all the right albums. Even if it was outdated, someone should have done the Star Wars joke, about 'it is an older code but checks out'. I even looked at the John Williams albums to make sure I was suggesting I might not be up to date." Marie-Ange said. "I want to stop and get sandwiches before we try any other routes. Give people time to text, snapchat, call. None of us have been here in a long time, nor leaned on any resources. It could take time for the word to get to the Guilds."
Amanda didn't mention that it had never taken time previously, choosing instead to give everything the benefit of the doubt. Neither of them had spent much time in New Orleans since M-Day, so it was possible that things had changed. "Let's see if that po' boy place is still there," she suggested instead. "It should be around the corner."
It was, technically. The restaurant on the corner sold po'boys, and had the same name. It still had a few tables outside, the little wrought-iron fence separating the tables from the sidewalk, the awning over the patio was still the same cream and grey. The menu had changed, fusion po'boys, bahn mi sandwiches, tofu panini. The decor had changed, framed abstract art and 'awards' from food magazines. Marie-Ange stood staring at the menu board, and turned to look at Amanda. "On one hand, I do want a birria fusion po'boy, and on the other, I only want it to taunt people."
Amanda made a grumbling noise to herself and muttered something that might have been "fucking hipsters" under her breath before looking up at the menu herself. "Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here."
Marie-Ange took out her phone, and tapped out a text. "I wager this menu was designed to have items from the last two years of food trends. Birria, bahn mi, I imagine if the sushi burrito was not already over, it would be on here." She finished her text, and sent it. "I told Jubilee about it, she will eat everything on the menu. Thus fulfills my obligation to eating it to taunt people. I think we just walk another block and find somewhere less manufactured."
"Works for me. There has to be something less.... this somewhere along here." Amanda's reply was almost plaintive.
"I know things changed, but this is just..." Marie-Ange said. "It is not as though I do not keep contact. This is extremely odd." She continued tapping along her phone as they walked, and finally let out a relieved noise. "The fish place is still there. No website, no grubhub, and my yelp review is still on the page." She stopped and leaned against a streetlamp for a moment. "I thought for a moment we might have fallen into Clinton's portal."
"To be honest, an alternative dimension would be less weird. At least we'd
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<i<>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<i>Amanda and MA wander around their old haunts as a few details don't seem to fit.</i>
<lj-cut text="Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here.">
It might not be Mardi Gras, but New Orleans was always abuzz with minor carnivals, Saints day celebrations, local events, and of course, tourists by the bus and plane-full. Walking around was the familiar sense of slipping into a warm bath as their time in the city and with the community came back in waves.
Humid air, the smells of creole spices and beer and lake water and the press of humanity, and Marie-Ange took a moment to inhale. New Orleans wasn't home, New York was, after so many years, but her time living in the city had been as grand as it had been harrowing. She had been glad to leave at the time, and just as glad to return every chance she could, knowing that she <i>could</i> leave freely, safely, without obligation. "It should be close." She said to Amanda. "But by now I would have expected... " She wasn't quite sure. A bump and drop, a phone call, someone making eye contact on the street - one of the members of the neighborhood who acted as lookouts. "Rude if I just take the trolley all the way to Daniel's office, but I did not know my favourite medical examiner had moved offices."
"Yeah, there's a bit of that going around." Amanda had discovered the house she'd lived in during her stay in the city was now an Air BNB, with no news as to where her former landlady or roommates might have gone. "Is it me or is there some kind of vibe going on?"
"Very much a vibe. That record store should have known me, I looked at all the right albums. Even if it was outdated, someone should have done the Star Wars joke, about 'it is an older code but checks out'. I even looked at the John Williams albums to make sure I was suggesting I might not be up to date." Marie-Ange said. "I want to stop and get sandwiches before we try any other routes. Give people time to text, snapchat, call. None of us have been here in a long time, nor leaned on any resources. It could take time for the word to get to the Guilds."
Amanda didn't mention that it had never taken time previously, choosing instead to give everything the benefit of the doubt. Neither of them had spent much time in New Orleans since M-Day, so it was possible that things had changed. "Let's see if that po' boy place is still there," she suggested instead. "It should be around the corner."
It was, technically. The restaurant on the corner sold po'boys, and had the same name. It still had a few tables outside, the little wrought-iron fence separating the tables from the sidewalk, the awning over the patio was still the same cream and grey. The menu had changed, fusion po'boys, bahn mi sandwiches, tofu panini. The decor had changed, framed abstract art and 'awards' from food magazines. Marie-Ange stood staring at the menu board, and turned to look at Amanda. "On one hand, I do want a birria fusion po'boy, and on the other, I only want it to taunt people."
Amanda made a grumbling noise to herself and muttered something that might have been "fucking hipsters" under her breath before looking up at the menu herself. "Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here."
Marie-Ange took out her phone, and tapped out a text. "I wager this menu was designed to have items from the last two years of food trends. Birria, bahn mi, I imagine if the sushi burrito was not already over, it would be on here." She finished her text, and sent it. "I told Jubilee about it, she will eat everything on the menu. Thus fulfills my obligation to eating it to taunt people. I think we just walk another block and find somewhere less manufactured."
"Works for me. There has to be something less.... <I>this</I> somewhere along here." Amanda's reply was almost plaintive.
"I know things changed, but this is just..." Marie-Ange said. "It is not as though I do not keep contact. This is extremely odd." She continued tapping along her phone as they walked, and finally let out a relieved noise. "The fish place is still there. No website, no grubhub, and my yelp review is still on the page." She stopped and leaned against a streetlamp for a moment. "I thought for a moment we might have fallen into Clinton's portal."
"To be honest, an alternative dimension would be less weird. At least we'd <I<>expect</I> things to be different." Stopping alongside Marie-Ange, Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, looking over the passersby. For a moment she thought she caught sight of a familiar face, someone who had visited Tante for help while she'd been living there, but as they made eye contact, they abruptly turned and changed direction. "Huh." She was about to bring the incident to Marie-Ange's attention when her girlfriend's phone went off.
"This has better not be Jubilee, I -just- send her a map pin to the sandwich restaurant." Marie-Ange pulled up the phone and then made a hiss and a genuine expression of dismay at the contact on her screen before answering.
"Colbert. You shouldn't be here right now." Daniel's gruff voice was abrupt and urgent.
"I hope this is a jest, Daniel." Marie-Ange answered. "If it is not, you could have warned me before I left New York. I left you a message." That he had not answered, but he rarely did. "What have I done to offend now? Besides my refusal to send you fetish photos."
"You should have taken de hint. Dis is not your-" He paused suddenly, and his voice quieted. A man that she had seen put an opponent through a brick wall with his own strength.... and he sounded scared. "Get out. Just please get out. Forget 'bout us." The line went dead.
Marie-Ange leaned against the wall of a building - she had no idea which one, she'd stopped walking and had not even realized she'd moved away from the main part of the sidewalk. "That was Daniel Boudreaux." She looked at her phone, and pulled up the call log - Unknown Number - as though it had not been an known alias before Daniel had hung up. "He blocked me. He wants us to leave the city."
"Rude." The witch's expression changed as she realised it wasn't banter. "Okay, that ties it. There's officially something Wrong going on here."
"He wants me to forget about the guilds. I do not understand." Marie-Ange's hand moved up to her face, and then she looked at it, and shook her head. "I need to go back to the hotel, see what readings I can, but after, I want answers. I hate not understanding. This is too much to leave alone, something has gone rotten." The list in her head, people in New Orleans who might want her, or Amanda, or Daniel Boudreaux out of contact with each other was too big to ignore - and too full of unknown unknowns. Things she could not guess at, because who knew what had changed, what puzzle pieces from a set completely different from what they recalled had settled in.</lj-cut>
<lj-cut text="Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here.">
It might not be Mardi Gras, but New Orleans was always abuzz with minor carnivals, Saints day celebrations, local events, and of course, tourists by the bus and plane-full. Walking around was the familiar sense of slipping into a warm bath as their time in the city and with the community came back in waves.
Humid air, the smells of creole spices and beer and lake water and the press of humanity, and Marie-Ange took a moment to inhale. New Orleans wasn't home, New York was, after so many years, but her time living in the city had been as grand as it had been harrowing. She had been glad to leave at the time, and just as glad to return every chance she could, knowing that she <i>could</i> leave freely, safely, without obligation. "It should be close." She said to Amanda. "But by now I would have expected... " She wasn't quite sure. A bump and drop, a phone call, someone making eye contact on the street - one of the members of the neighborhood who acted as lookouts. "Rude if I just take the trolley all the way to Daniel's office, but I did not know my favourite medical examiner had moved offices."
"Yeah, there's a bit of that going around." Amanda had discovered the house she'd lived in during her stay in the city was now an Air BNB, with no news as to where her former landlady or roommates might have gone. "Is it me or is there some kind of vibe going on?"
"Very much a vibe. That record store should have known me, I looked at all the right albums. Even if it was outdated, someone should have done the Star Wars joke, about 'it is an older code but checks out'. I even looked at the John Williams albums to make sure I was suggesting I might not be up to date." Marie-Ange said. "I want to stop and get sandwiches before we try any other routes. Give people time to text, snapchat, call. None of us have been here in a long time, nor leaned on any resources. It could take time for the word to get to the Guilds."
Amanda didn't mention that it had never taken time previously, choosing instead to give everything the benefit of the doubt. Neither of them had spent much time in New Orleans since M-Day, so it was possible that things had changed. "Let's see if that po' boy place is still there," she suggested instead. "It should be around the corner."
It was, technically. The restaurant on the corner sold po'boys, and had the same name. It still had a few tables outside, the little wrought-iron fence separating the tables from the sidewalk, the awning over the patio was still the same cream and grey. The menu had changed, fusion po'boys, bahn mi sandwiches, tofu panini. The decor had changed, framed abstract art and 'awards' from food magazines. Marie-Ange stood staring at the menu board, and turned to look at Amanda. "On one hand, I do want a birria fusion po'boy, and on the other, I only want it to taunt people."
Amanda made a grumbling noise to herself and muttered something that might have been "fucking hipsters" under her breath before looking up at the menu herself. "Most of this stuff has sriracha on it. I can hear Tante rolling in her grave from here."
Marie-Ange took out her phone, and tapped out a text. "I wager this menu was designed to have items from the last two years of food trends. Birria, bahn mi, I imagine if the sushi burrito was not already over, it would be on here." She finished her text, and sent it. "I told Jubilee about it, she will eat everything on the menu. Thus fulfills my obligation to eating it to taunt people. I think we just walk another block and find somewhere less manufactured."
"Works for me. There has to be something less.... <I>this</I> somewhere along here." Amanda's reply was almost plaintive.
"I know things changed, but this is just..." Marie-Ange said. "It is not as though I do not keep contact. This is extremely odd." She continued tapping along her phone as they walked, and finally let out a relieved noise. "The fish place is still there. No website, no grubhub, and my yelp review is still on the page." She stopped and leaned against a streetlamp for a moment. "I thought for a moment we might have fallen into Clinton's portal."
"To be honest, an alternative dimension would be less weird. At least we'd <I<>expect</I> things to be different." Stopping alongside Marie-Ange, Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, looking over the passersby. For a moment she thought she caught sight of a familiar face, someone who had visited Tante for help while she'd been living there, but as they made eye contact, they abruptly turned and changed direction. "Huh." She was about to bring the incident to Marie-Ange's attention when her girlfriend's phone went off.
"This has better not be Jubilee, I -just- send her a map pin to the sandwich restaurant." Marie-Ange pulled up the phone and then made a hiss and a genuine expression of dismay at the contact on her screen before answering.
"Colbert. You shouldn't be here right now." Daniel's gruff voice was abrupt and urgent.
"I hope this is a jest, Daniel." Marie-Ange answered. "If it is not, you could have warned me before I left New York. I left you a message." That he had not answered, but he rarely did. "What have I done to offend now? Besides my refusal to send you fetish photos."
"You should have taken de hint. Dis is not your-" He paused suddenly, and his voice quieted. A man that she had seen put an opponent through a brick wall with his own strength.... and he sounded scared. "Get out. Just please get out. Forget 'bout us." The line went dead.
Marie-Ange leaned against the wall of a building - she had no idea which one, she'd stopped walking and had not even realized she'd moved away from the main part of the sidewalk. "That was Daniel Boudreaux." She looked at her phone, and pulled up the call log - Unknown Number - as though it had not been an known alias before Daniel had hung up. "He blocked me. He wants us to leave the city."
"Rude." The witch's expression changed as she realised it wasn't banter. "Okay, that ties it. There's officially something Wrong going on here."
"He wants me to forget about the guilds. I do not understand." Marie-Ange's hand moved up to her face, and then she looked at it, and shook her head. "I need to go back to the hotel, see what readings I can, but after, I want answers. I hate not understanding. This is too much to leave alone, something has gone rotten." The list in her head, people in New Orleans who might want her, or Amanda, or Daniel Boudreaux out of contact with each other was too big to ignore - and too full of unknown unknowns. Things she could not guess at, because who knew what had changed, what puzzle pieces from a set completely different from what they recalled had settled in.</lj-cut>
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(and I love the creeping sense that something is Not Right, the show-don't-tell is fantastic here)