Glampires and Self-Awarewolves: Welcome to Port Mirror

[Astaroth]

Welcome to Port MIRROR​

The Boogie Bar was the newest bar in Port Mirror—technically speaking, anyway; a year ago, the place had been called Stucky's and had been a local favorite for the better part of thirty years. Then Stucky had died, the building had come up for rent, and an out-of-towner had moved in before anyone could say boo about it.

Aggie Graves had yet to win over most of the old crowd. The entire vibe of the place had been turned on its head. Gone were the rough wood walls and floors, replaced with shiny new tiles and printed carpet. Twinkle lights on the newly mirrored ceiling, crushed velvet curtains, neon bar lights, and the life-sized horse lamp wearing a taffeta dress in the entranceway were alienating for the blue collar types, biker gangs, and sailors that had come in for the pool tables and jukebox full of country and Elvis. Half the booths had been removed to make room for the dance floor and state-of-the-art sound system.

And then the man himself was, well, a bit strange. He talked like Daniel Day-Lewis but insisted he was born and raised in "the South". When pressed on where, he sometimes answered "Georgia" and other times "Mississippi". He always wore brightly-printed Hawaiian shirts, even in winter, with a pair of rose-tinted aviators indoors.

But he made the best drinks in town, and if you were in the know, you knew why the crowd who frequented the bar on Saturday nights kept coming back.

It was currently, however, Monday morning and the Boogie Bar was largely deserted. A few of the braver and least sober locals were nursing drinks or smoking on their high purple-cushioned bar stools and attempting to look comfortable when they heard the scream.

One of the patrons leapt up from the bar, hand on the gun at his waist. There was a star-shaped badge pinned to the front of his uniform, along with a name: MCCLANE.

"Shit," cursed Sheriff McClane. He dropped his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the bar-top and headed for the door.

Outside, he found a young blond woman in a swimsuit, dripping sea water and wailing. She ran to him and clutched at his shirt.

"It's awful," she cried. "She's dead!"

"Who's dead?" demanded the Sheriff. "Where?"

"The girl," sobbed the young woman. "The girl on Ruby Beach!"

---

By noon, the entire town was talking about it. Tammy Summers was dead.

Her body was found on Ruby Beach, naked and bloody, laying among the rocks as the tide lapped at the shore. Some people were saying it was an accident, but Tammy was such a good swimmer; other people were insinuating something far worse. Most were in shock. Tammy was only twenty-two. Everyone had loved her.

It was the start of a strange summer...

@Diana @Ocha @CarnelianUndead @Turtle of Doom @Dusk @fawnsable @The Mood is Write

 

[Ocha]

When Daisy got off the plane, it didn't take long before she saw Claudia, the wife of her father's best friend. They greeted with a hug, that was probably too stiff on Daisy's end and quickly, but quietly, went to pick up Daisy's suitcase from the carousel.

Claudia was a blessing at a time like this. Daisy had not taken off her sunglasses since she left New York early that morning, her eyes too red, and was doing her best to seem collected. Other than the hug, Claudia hadn't acknowledged why Daisy was here and as they left SeaTac for the ferry in Seattle kept any conversation to the basics, "I'm parked over here," "Do you want to stop and get a bite to eat?" "I hope you don't mind listening to Country."

Daisy hoped she answered politely, but she knew her answers were short. She was not good company for the long trip to Port Mirror.

Absently despite the stress of the situation she was able to admire the blue waters of the Sound, a surprisingly sunny day. It could have been gray and turbulent on the water, but it wasn't. She was both grateful and irritated by the moment.

Once they were on the road again, alone, Claudia finally voiced her concerns. "Are you sure you want to go to the house? Johnathan and I have a spare room for you while you're in town."

Daisy took a deep breath. She didn't want to justify to anyone, even someone she'd call Auntie, why she was doing anything right now. She slowly took off her sunglasses, seeing the green conifers without filters. "Thank you, but I think Butler and Mister Whiskers will do better at home with me."

Butler was a mutt her father adopted when she was a senior. They'd been told he was a wolfdog, and they'd laughed at the conceit. Butler was a happy husky-retriever mix with maybe a bit of bulldog but his line hadn't been close to true wolves in many many many generations.

Mister Whiskers had been Daisy's cat as a kid along with his sister Lady Sheba. She'd passed away two years earlier and it broke Daisy's heart. Mister Whiskers was an old man now and Daisy worried how he'd handle the eventual move.

When Claudia dropped Daisy off she repeated her offer of the spare room, which Daisy declined, and made her promise to call if she needed anything, anything at all.

Daisy was barely in the front door when Butler ran up to greet her. Even though Jonathan had come over to check on the animals, they had been left mostly alone since her father passed, and Butler was gout to insist on as much attention as possible.

Daisy had unpacked and looked at the fridge, tsking her father at the lack of anything besides TVDinners, before she found Mister Whiskers. He ignored her for a good hour after that before warming up to her.

To keep busy , as she snuggled with the pets, Daisy made a list of things to do. Her father's funeral was Sunday and while the actual burial was already taken care of years ago by her father she need to figure out a place for his reception. Then there was the house, the truck, belongings, and of course Butler & Mister Whiskers. They would come home with her. It was just a question of how.

Eventually Daisy wanted to eat something and TVDinners did not sound good. Freshening herself up, she grabbed her father's keys and started up the truck. Where she'd end up eating she wasn't sure.