alsfcrds

[alsfcrds]

There hadn’t been many visitors to the cinema, and that’s just the way Emmett liked it. He hadn’t seen a lot of the theater’s residents lately, and that was just no fair. Emmett’s journey towards the settlement, to seeing the tree high in the sky, it’s warm wood beneath his fingertips, sharing a part of itself with him… what a glorious evening that was. 

Of course, these sentiments were mixed with pure, unadulterated agony at what he’s become, the brief glimpses in the mirror to a reflection he didn’t recognize, that moved independently of himself. The desire to tear out his hair, to dig into his body and yank out the feeling of slithering tendrils that seemed to crawl right under his skin, to end this sensation, this evil that lingered under the surface… disappeared the second he stepped back into darkness. Light hurt now, he doesn’t like the light - hurts his eyes and burns his skin. 

Empty as the theater had been, he heard the familiar chime above the door, the bell that he himself installed a few weeks into his time at Arcadia, enough to stir him from sleep should he ever need it. Someone was here. How glorious would it be if there was another to watch the beautiful film someone left behind, from years beyond - the carnage seen, the organs spilling from their cavities, blackened gums and brittle teeth with laughter punctuating it all.

Emmett was savvy of course, and many lights were carefully unscrewed when he had the mind to do so, otherwise they were shattered by carefully thrown tools he hadn’t bothered to pick up. Someone is here! And so he crouched carefully, his completely bloodshot eyes locked on the figure moving, squinting angrily at the light let in from the street and grimacing at the person he saw walking through his sanctuary.

[alsfcrds]

This was a real sort of “Step 1” sort of scenario, and Emmett felt an extra weight on his shoulders. He rolled his right one, pressing the heel of his hand into the wound as if it would help sate the discomfort at all. It didn’t make him feel any less of an ache, but the act of doing so made him feel so much better, somehow. Though he was relieved she’d stay inside, he was still worried about leaving her unattended, and it looked like he’d have to prepare to stay up all night. 

No matter, he’d been going through sleepless nights for awhile, now. 

“Look, you can think I’m crazy all you want,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes, exhaling briefly before continuing. “You’re allowed. I can play along with that, then, and ask in return that you go along with my insanity, at least for the night, just so you don’t die. You can go somewhere else tomorrow if you want, but they’ll tell you the same thing. No one leaves here.” His toe nudges at Tripod’s belly, attempting to pet. “Do you like horror movies? Because we live in one.”

"Am I mad?" Tessa repeats incredulously, flinging her arms out as if to encapsulate the scene before her as proof that she certainly wasn't the mad one here. Perhaps a little tipsy, bordering on drunk, but definitely more sane than this guy standing before her scared of the things going bump in the night and working to lock literally a trillion locks on the door like it might keep out a nuclear apocalypse.

But hey, at least the locks weren't his. That made it make all the more sense.

She stared back at him as he sat, inquiring on how long she'd been in town. It feels like minutes pass before she blinks, waiting for someone to jump out and say 'lol look at your face' or 'haha got you good'. But it doesn't come. "I don't know, a couple hours? It's late, so I was going to wait out the night before taking off in the morning. That okay with you?"

Her eyes flick briefly to the cat that brushes along his legs, seeming the most normal thing in this place comparatively. Then her gaze returns to him and narrows as he finally speaks - spewing some nonsensical story she can hardly follow. It would be her luck that she'd stumble upon some guy who has lost his goddamn marbles and locked her inside with him. Was this how people ended up kidnapped, or whatever?

"Uh...yeah. Okaaaaay..." she murmurs, thinking maybe it was best just to appease him at least long enough to figure out a way to get out of here.

[alsfcrds]

For some reason that question made his heart pound in his chest, as if he hadn’t been used to being “missing” for months now. But she asked it with such a disbelief that it made him wonder how common or uncommon it was for someone not from the States to disappear into Arcadia. Charlie had been here for a long time - nine years, he thought she said - so he figured she’d seen it all. Maybe Arcadia was going global, now, having enough of Americans.

He nodded. “I was going for a walk,” he said. The circumstances he’d respectfully leave out - he didn’t want to get into the logistics of all of his family drama, as it still hurt his soul a little. The betrayal of his mother, father, and of his god. It was hard to stomach, even with as much distance as one could put between himself and the situation. “I would hope my Ma told people I was missing. I hope I didn’t just completely disappear. Out of everyone’s lives.”

Afraid the mood was about to shift to something a bit too grim for light conversation, he switched the subject. All he did was give a nod and a plain, “Yeah, I met Roux before.” when asked, but he peered over the edge to see what it looked like beyond the bar counter. “It smells like potatoes in here. Does it always smell like that?”

Charlie had always wanted to go to Ireland. The trails there were plentiful and all the photos she'd seen made it look like you could probably chomp on crispy morning air as soon as you woke. A multitude of paths in her head dug themselves from the starting point of this thought. The first was that Charlie began to assess mentality the wind here in Hell Town. There was wind here, of this she was sure, but it never felt like the air moved. Even in the openness of the forest, Charlie often found herself feeling claustrophobic, like the air was stagnant and she couldn't escape it. Though how much of that had to do with her general mental health, which had been on the decline since the day she'd set foot in this town, no —since the day her mother had turned every dial of their gas stove and lit a cigarette in the kitchen? Such directions in her head were better left unexplored.

The other thing she immediately thought of was what it was exactly Emmett had meant by that. "Wait... when you came here were you in Ireland? Like did you go 'missing' in Ireland?" She accompanied the sentence with appropriate finger quotes. Were any of them missing if they were here, existing here, making a life here? It wasn't like Charlie assumed that everyone had arrived here from the United States, but it felt rare when someone originated from a different country. She smiled at him, as though so much of his disposition made sense to her now.

She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her pants and surveyed the poor state of the bar. There was something at his words that made Charlie question if she could ever be the type of person that fixed anything wrong with this place. Maybe years ago, certainly not now. "Knock yourself out," she stated. "I don't think anyone would have anything bad to say about that. And if they do I'll beat them up." She paused. "Well, I'll get Roux to beat them up. Have you met Roux? You'd remember meeting Roux.''

[alsfcrds]

The only way Emmett could describe any of this was ugly. The wound was ugly, what happened was ugly, and having to hear the clink of a metal cuff was ugly, even if it was - to her - necessary, and it sounded far louder than it likely was in the moment. Emmett was fortunate enough that in the months before the storm, before he fell from the roof, that he had been mostly shielded from the worst effects of Arcadia. He’d heard stories of course, of people going crazy and running into the streets, throwing the doors of their homes open and letting the creatures take them, of succumbing to the darkness of this place. 

Of course it was only a matter of time. 

Emmett nodded. His shoulder was still wrapped and he was keeping a careful eye on it. “Logan was the one who found me,” he said. And under Logan’s guidance is where he’d continue to live while he healed. His biggest grievance was that he didn’t have the strength to do much more than sit around and wait; all of his various projects falling to the wayside as a result. 

The settlement still sent a flood of unease through him. He hadn’t been there yet, not in the entire time he’d been at Arcadia. He’d walked the path over a few times, but there was something about it that felt almost like an invisible wall, something that would not let his feet cross the threshold of its perimeter. There was always a dread that made him want to run for the hills whenever he was close. Perhaps it was his religious upbringing, that there was something to its mystique that was more tangible than just rumor. Nevertheless, what was he supposed to say? Beg Reyna to stay? What if next time she didn’t miss? It was pure luck that resulted in only his shoulder being stabbed, but it was a horrible pain and fear that he relived in his nightmares already. Instead, he nodded quietly in an attempt at being understanding.

But her question gave him pause, and he hesitated before answering. “I think so,” he admitted. It was confusing how to navigate this all, and his faith had never been so challenged in his life. “I guess I’m just worried of…” You’re worried you’ll turn out like her. “Maybe the settlement would be good for you, then.”

the metal enclosed around her wrist caused a distraction. the way it felt uncomfortable enough to remind her of the pain she'd caused. though, reyna was grateful for one thing — that whatever crawled in the deepest parts of her hadn't been feeding off someone like emmett. even if it wanted his life, reyna knew she hated the thought of it swallowing him whole. she was certain the voice would eat someone like emmett alive. chew him up, and spit him out. his softness was admirable, but softness in arcadia got you killed. "have you been to the clinic?" for the wound. reyna had assumed, but she was unaware of what happened after she fled to another dark route that night. there had been distruction to the town. her lips wouldn't ask how long he'd been in the cinema for. alone. bleeding out. she couldn't bother the air with anything but subtly. anything deeper rattled her emotions. it baffled the woman how emmett could speak such a thing. as if she couldn't feel safe in the space they provided together. "i handle my own." reyna's way of reassurance skirted the reality of her own horror. "the settlement has been generous." even if its not what she knew she had been deserving of. punishment of such doings could be harsh. reyna punished herself, but it still didn't feel like enough. her mind, her hand....they couldn't be so separate. emmett's forgiveness felt abrasive to her chest. an impacting warmth of discomfort that could drop her to the floor... if she'd been standing. reyna sat still. the smell of stew wafted. "i don't know." wasn't her straying from the topic. reyna found it all difficult to encapsulate. "it's something... dark. unforgiving." fingers twiddled. she knew saying such heinous things about it probably brought the voice an eery delight. "something evil, emmett. — does that make you afraid ?"

[alsfcrds]

*/ What thrives in darkness?

There was an unpleasant churning in his gut the closer they got to the settlement. Emmett had decided to do Tessa a favor - he had never been over there himself, never past the threshold of the area. As soon as trees thinned and turned to just grass before the huts, he turned back. There was just something about it over there that he didn't like, hard for him to pin down. She hadn't asked him to be her escort of course, but for the first time ever, he had an inkling to visit the settlement.

Of course, logic won over after they had arrived, and it was as if Emmett hit an invisible wall before he could go any further. He wasn't planning on going to the party at all, but there was an undeniable tension building within him, a thought clear as day that rang through his head like a bell: Do not take one more step. Something bad is going to happen.

Emmett was never the most intuitive person, but the feeling was so strong he mumbled a goodbye and bid Tessa farewell, that he'd see her later. As he turned from the settlement and walked away, the wound under his skin burned, with such a ferocity that it stopped him in his tracks and made his vision swim. Everything was wrong, like he was looking through the world as if underwater, with murky edges and the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears.

Then suddenly it was dark - the sun had set and there were distant lights further out west. Maybe west; it was so hard to tell around here. His fingertips were scratched, caked dirt around his nails and his mouth tasted like copper. How much time had passed? His palms lay flat against the tree in front of him, and instinct told him it was the tree. The one that had been deemed some false god by those at the settlement - the true reason why he never felt right crossing into their territory, even if he didn't like to admit it to himself. It felt unholy. But who are you to decide what's unholy, Emmett? Look at you.

He didn't like that voice. He had been hearing it for weeks now, and it sounded like a gravelly, desperate version of himself that made his skin crawl. But it had been relentless the last few days, to the point where he found himself talking back when no one was around.

Emmett lurched forward, as if bitten by the voice in his mind. The bark under his hands felt warm, and he couldn't decide then if the pulse he felt was his own against its skin or the tree's itself. Suddenly that warmth spread and Emmett found himself growing hot, perilously so - he peeled his jacket and shirt over his head and shrugged them off his arms as if the fabric itself was the cause of the pain, of the discomfort. Not enough - the bandages uselessly wrapped around his torso were next; useless in that the wound had stopped bleeding weeks ago.

Instead a small crater was left in its stead, just as gnarly as it was when he was paid a visit by the settlement's resident shaman, no longer bloody and messy but the exposed flesh was an unnaturally dark red, nearly black. Even putting his fingers near it had him howling in pain, and keeping it hidden away from sight and mind by way of the gauze was easier than admitting there was something wrong, that there was a rot that needed to be cleansed in his own body. The wound was inflamed and tender, but that was the limit. When Logan asked him if it got worse, he technically wasn't lying - it didn't get worse, but it didn't really get better either. He hadn't told anyone about Nika sticking her fingers into his body, anyhow. The fact that Tripod was still walking around was the proof.

Now, though, in the dim light - his eyes had strangely already been adjusted to the darkness surrounding him - he could see the veins under his skin, paler than it was when he was first taken hostage by Arcadia. But the veins themselves - they were dark, black and moving like tiny snakes wriggling under the surface.

A sharp pain hit Emmett with such force that it sent him to his knees and he collapsed, gasping and feeling as though there was a hand gripping around his neck. Amidst his panic, he heard it first: a cracking sound, leaves rustling from a wind that didn't hit him. Roots from below and branches from above were moving around him. Thin branches wrapped themselves around his wrists, roots moved across his legs. All initiating a slow stiffening of his limbs - once parts of the tree passed over him, its like the muscles ceased to exist. Emmett was nearly frozen in place, half prostrated before the tree with his palms practically glued to the bark.

This is a weird dream. And usually acknowledging such made him wake with a start. Instead, he felt a horrible squirming under his skin and he looked down. Helixes of roots, small, slimy and black, have twisted free from the stab wound. Emmett watched, with a horrifying fascination, as they twisted and grew closer to the bark of the tree. As his hands blackened against the dark bark, a skittering sound as he watched his skin fester in front of him. Those helixes were curling ever so close to the tree, intent on making them one–

And so fast, they shot backwards, back into Emmett's body with such force and agony that Emmett let out a shout against the sky, so loud that all the lights from the settlement flickered out, and the stars stopped twinkling up above. Emmett watched as black blood oozed from the wound, as the veins quickly curled up and down his chest, in a blooming cascade of rot with refuge in the dark, wet cavern of this host body.

But then there was no pain! As soon as it came, it was gone, absolving him of the torture. He stood, legs shaky from the ordeal despite Emmett being filled with a newfound sense of purpose. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and every sense was alight - he could see in the dark, he could hear every animal in the woods. There was a nagging scent of decay he couldn't seem to shake, no matter how much his nose pointed away from the wind.

A fleeting thought of disgust, a scream in his mind infiltrated the peace: What's happening to me? But Emmett simply waved away that weak voice, the one that's been so persistent and whiny over the last few weeks. The dark is just what was needed, time for the gift in his chest, buried between sinews, to properly take root.

Now how would he ensure this blessed darkness lasted forever... that was the question. But surely once he woke up, it would all be over.

[alsfcrds]

Emmett could still remember when Logan found him in the cinema later that evening. When it was getting closer to sunset and the doors to the cinema were still open, when he was too tired to move his head past from where it lolled against his shoulder - man, how his neck hurt after that. Logan, who quickly freed him and helped limp him over to the clinic for the night. At some point, the knife had left him, but he didn’t know if that was at the clinic or when she found him. Much else was a hazy blur, and maybe it was better that it stayed that way. 

While he felt he owed her, he still had an itch in the back of his mind that it was better, safer, to lie to her about the extent of his injury. It hadn’t felt right since Nika’s visit, the muscle even more sore than it had been previously. The edges of it were angry, a dark red under his skin that felt hot to the touch and the veins had risen a bit. It had to have been infected, but there was this pit in this stomach that telling her such would be a bad thing. He wanted to give it some time, before he hit the panic button. It didn’t hurt him any more than it would have if someone stuck their fingers in a healing wound, especially where the muscles were no doubt working hard to stitch themselves back together. It would take time. 

So when she asked about any swelling or discoloration, he shook his head with ease. “Just gross,” he answered, and it wasn’t a lie. Sometimes he got a bit squeamish with this sort of thing, but he had only really been looking at the wound with curiosity instead of the usual aversion. “Well–” Don’t tell her about the projector. Or maybe, at least, what he’d seen out of it. That felt like his own little secret, save for the woman who brought him those wires that day, in the box of “junk”. Logan wouldn’t understand how amazing it was, he was sure of it. No, that was best left for his eyes, and his eyes alone. And all he wanted to do was go back into his hovel of darkness, watching those blessed images go by on a loop. But that would be too suspicious. “I could go for a walk,” he said, figuring that’s what she was implying. “Let me put on some shoes?”

Despite her best efforts to remain neutral, if not covertly optimistic leaning, towards those she cared for — Logan was only human. Inherently left vulnerable by the unavoidable strife of living, concern and doubt would always gnaw at her insides; what ifs and close calls circulating in her head like broken records. It was difficult to remain impartial given the higher stakes of local affairs, where the balance was even more fragile and prone escalate. Part of her would always harbour a bias which benefitted those sick and wounded, that they were doing the best they could — that it was solely her responsibility to bridge the gap between impossible and possible recovery. Even in the safety of Emmett's own space, danger had still found and claimed him — he would never be entirely out of the woods, though Logan would do her hardest to keep him out of further harm's way. The slow-drip of fear toward what came next was as unknown and persistent as the passing of time itself.

Thus, as she awaited in the foyer, she tried her best to nurture the spark which hoped Emmett could be relied upon not to lie about his health, though the legs of her trust felt a degree weaker the instant her eyes found him. Perhaps it was nothing more than the subpar light quality of being indoors, but he looked much paler than she would have liked. It was barely a valid symptom, considering how everyone’s pallor dulled as a side effect of residency, but silently noted nonetheless as she acknowledged his arrival with a gentle smile. 

“Oh, yeah?” Equal measures of relief, surprise, and pride bloomed within her chest at the knowledge that he had been taking care, at least recently. A small victory. “I'll be out of a job soon, at this rate,” she spoke warmly, teasing humour thinly veiling the curiosity beneath. “So it closed up alright? Any discolouration, swelling, abnormal discharge…?” The usual suspects, run-of-the-mill queries she assumed he would have the best grasp on to answer as the closest witness to the healing site. Her eyes briefly drifted down to where the hidden injury would have been on his chest, unable to resist wondering after the nasty state he’d been left in. Her fingers twitched at her sides, tapping lightly against the denim if her trousers. The lack of practical action left her restless, unwilling to physically overstep if his attention had been adequate yet desperate for whatever confirmation she could verbally pry from him. “When’s the last time you got some fresh air or sunshine?”

[alsfcrds]

“I’m from Ireland, Charlie,” he answered, a face of seriousness as he played into the stereotype before he couldn’t hold it in any longer and a little giggle escaped him. “I don’t drink, no. Not really.” It sounded terribly boring to him anyway - sitting in the same chair for hours on end, doing nothing but having your eyes glued to whatever football match was on and drinking until you couldn’t walk anymore. Not that Emmett’s moviegoing experience was much different - but that was more cultured to him. Just instead of drinks, he had salty popcorn instead. 

The idea of fixing all the broken pieces in this town until he dropped dead was the only thing he could think to do that would have been worthwhile. Even if he was nothing but a mere blip on the radar of those back home, or in the world, he’d be making a difference. If he couldn’t leave a legacy on the silver screen like he wanted, this town seemed ageless, and maybe his contributions could help someone down the line, even if they don’t know it was one Emmett Alsford. There wasn’t much else to do around here anyway; that much he could concede. 

He took a simple look at the barstools. That could be a project… “Maybe I could take a swing at it?” he said, mind reeling. Emmett wasn’t much by way of carpentry, but there was no time like now to hone his skills.

The bar was a familiar fixture for Charlie after ten years of living here. She tried to remember what bars were supposed to really be like, doubted that modern bars looked as run down and sketchy as the one in Hell Town. There had been one particularly gross bar near her college, but it was too hazy to imagine fully, she found herself blurring the bar in Hell Town with every bar in her memory. It was too early in the day for their to be anyone here, though it wasn't a complete rarity for some poor soul to be day drinking after a hard night, or to build up some semblance of courage to walk out into the forest and never come back.

"Oh?" she let slip out, turning towards Emmett like maybe she was seeing him for the first time. "Wait do you even drink? I probably should've asked you that before I brought your here, hey?" Charlie shrugged. They were here now, the least she could do was give him the tour. "I mean if you're ever looking for things to do, this place is a never ending eclectic collection of broken things." To suit its occupants. Charlie rattled off landmarks with accompanying gestures. "There's a dart board here, but only one dart so, requires a bit more patience. Um... the sink in the toilet drips. It's been dripping for like at least three years. We had a carpenter make some new bar stools a couple years back but some moron broke the legs on one of them by falling into them. She was sober too." She leaned in and whispered under her breath, "That was me."

"Anyway, he's dead now so no new barstools. The bar tap doesn't work but honestly for a bar in hell, it's got quite a lot of commodities."

[alsfcrds]

It’s on. Oh goodness, it was on and that meant he was one step closer to the kind of quality of life he had before. Emmett could cry - all he needed now was for some truck to drop off an industrial popcorn making machine and years worth of popcorn kernels, oil, and salt. He ran up to the window, that small panel of cracked plexiglass that separated his makeshift bedroom with the theater, and he could see the glow reflected back to him. His fingers made shadows among the projector, and he let out a laugh.

Emmett raced back down the stairs, rushing past her as he moved closer to the screen, in all its glory. It was hard to make out just what it was he was seeing - the footage was so grainy and likely warped from age. Making out just how old Arcadia was was a difficult feat in and of itself, but still. “I don’t know what’s in there,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to disrupt the film.” On the screen, he could just make out faces, some old, some young, their expressions going from hysterical laughter to exaggerated fear, and though it was hard to make out, it felt like it was a kind of vaudevillian silent films from the twenties. Still, Emmet was mystified, and he sank into one of the theater chairs. “Look at that! I wonder who made it.”

Her gaze stayed fixed on the blood-stained seat, bringing with it a foreboding sense of something wicked. His lie, for it must have been a lie with the rapidness at which her question had been dismissed, did nothing to alleviate the sudden nerves that Juliette felt being in this place. She reasoned that much of Hell Town made her feeling like this —as though the ground would be ripped from underneath her at a moment's notice.

The sudden brightness of the projector on the screen was nearly blinding, but it was affective in diverting her attention away from her previous line of inquiry. Once her eyesight adjusted to the brightness she turned her head towards the projection room and called back out to him. "I mean... it's on, if that's what you're asking?" She flicked her eyes from the room to the screen and then back at the room again. "Just boring though, a whole lot of static. Did you put a movie on or something? How does that even work?"

[alsfcrds]

“How’s your pain level?”

“Like mental pain or physical pain?”

“Both.”

“Nine out of Ten.”

[alsfcrds]

Though he tried to calm the muscles in his face when the other pointed out how tightly wound he was, it only had something else clenching in exchange. The man reminded Emmett of the kind of men he’d see passing pints around at the bar - grizzled and aged from manual labor, a look in their eye showing that they’ve been around the bend. Having grown up without a father, and the only father figures in his life being softer priests, he never quite knew how to be around the more… hard edged men that graced his small town. His eyes were dark and staring him down, and Emmett fought hard not to squirm under his gaze as they stood before each other, in the empty aisle, only their voices echoing in the tall walls of the church. “We’re all welcome in the church,” he mumbled, hating how he couldn’t seem to raise his voice over the pathetic murmuring. Then he frowned, realizing something - he’d never met the man, how did he know this isn’t where he lived? “Who are you?” Emmett asked, slow, suspicious. “Were you looking for me, or something?”

He buffs sleep in the fit-fuls from a puckered shine.     As you do,   wielding hours as waning as a moon cycle.     You could almost sigh,   in his primed view,   as you renounce prayer,   again,   for its more alluring reflection.     An equally clasped watch.     What’s being given:   this picked feast,   you should accept.     Open-mouthed.     The gift of gazelle to a prowl-hot tiger.     Slowly,   his gaze arcs around the room,   and sets at his eye’s corner,   pulling the stem-nerve to the forefront.     Each muscle of the eye’s structure laid upon a singular frame.     How it stutters.     Shutters.     Sputters.     He cannot unmake his word,   but he can re-ravel its starting syllable.     Harsh murmur,   into soft pellets,   into raspy light.     Like a thundered sea re-harmonising to dawn’s mist.     Your head bows lower,   nearing an earthier intonation.     Bone into bone.     Sigh from cough.     ‘   Does your jaw hurt?     From all that clenching.   ’     And now,   his chin aligns with the boy’s form.     Tooth-lined lip.     His stare catches on the outskirts of the boy’s jaw.     The angle between his teeth and his ear.     Sharper,   now.     A finer point.     You could enjoy its breadth from here.     The urge to gnash,   when all of it shudders.     ‘   So much tension.     Is that why you needed that fresh sleep   —   in a room that isn’t your own?   ’     Nick stands from the pew.     He does nothing else to inch closer to the boy.     To keep the clearing muddled in front of so skittish a deer.     Hoarse in the church air.     ‘   The support hasn’t found you yet.   ’

[alsfcrds]

Emmett couldn’t care less about the liquor being splashed onto her, onto him even, as he pulled her in. If he had paused to look hard enough at what was approaching from the woods, he might have imagined its features warping, morphing into something that would be of use to Them in someway, someone that would get him out and into their clutches. They only wish to see you better - it was that annoying voice in his head, an intrusive thought that had been getting more persistent as of late. More obsessive. Emmett did his best to ignore and focus on the locks.

“They aren’t mine,” he said. No, they were here already, working just fine when he showed up here and were kind enough to stay working to keep him safe in the night. Emmett finally faced at her at the assumption that the things walking outside were merely school children, playing some sort of trick on them. “Are you mad?” he blurted. “What do you mean what the fuck is wrong with me, what’s–” He stopped, brows pinching together. Oh, she’s new, and so uneducated. “How long have you been in this town?” he asked, before taking a seat at a stool by the door, studying her. Not that Emmett got around much, but he most definitely didn’t recognize her, and it was a small enough town for people to have at least an inkling of understanding at who their neighbors were.

And he realized then that the burden of having to explain what it was like here, give her the run down of the place, and hope she believed him enough not to unlock all the doors and rush out to prove him wrong, dooming them in the process. Tripod chirped and rubbed at the stool leg as Emmett heaved a sigh, unsure where to start. “Those things outside aren’t people,” he started, and already thought he was doing a bad job. Tell her, about all the things that really go on at sundown. “I don’t know what They are, nobody has a good answer. But they like your fear, they want you afraid, sad - anything that gets you outside, so they can get you. Hence the locks.”

Tessa still can't quite make out the form lurking at the edge of the trees, calling out to her. They move slowly, like they don't have any concern in the world. Is it her? Her sister? Maybe this weird ass town was exactly what she was searching for and she'd finally understand where her sister had run off to. Or maybe it was someone out there just thinking this was a funny, funny joke.

She's about to take a step off the curb and say something else to the things that call from the woods, but before anything coherent can escape her something grabs onto her elbow with a rather aggressive yank. "Hey!" She yelps as liquor sloshes from the bottle in her hand, scowling as she nearly loses her footing on the pavement and is practically thrown into the cinema. She doesn't get a good look at the young man until he releases her and frantically goes about locking up the doors - "Shit dude, do you have enough locks on that thing? One usually does the trick."

If she was more alert and less addled by the liquor running rampant in her bloodstream she might've been more worried about the fact that some guy had just dragged her into a building that he was now hastily locking them into together. Instead, she brushes off her arm like maybe he'd left some grime behind when he'd grabbed her, then takes another swig of the liquor.

"I think if one of us is trying to get themselves killed tonight, it's you. You're the one who is freaking the fuck out about some...kid or something playing hide 'n seek, or whatever. You always so jumpy? You're gunna give yourself a heart attack or something - and let me tell you, I do not know how to do the CPR thing, so you're good as toast if you do keel over. The fuck is wrong with you?"

[alsfcrds]

A warm smile enveloped his face at the compliment. Emmett had only wanted to build something useful and fun for kids, to give them some semblance of a childhood before it was ripped from them. How could one ever ask them to play simple games of slaying monsters and defying villainy, when those same - very real - monsters and villains were right outside their doorsteps every night? Well-thought out Leandro might have thought he was being, it was almost completely due to his own anxieties, and what would have assuaged his fears if he was young.

Emmett followed him to the booth and his stomach grumbled almost instantly - he was always a bit worried about shortages of food here, and he was the kind of person that could eat, but he was feeling in a jovial mood and wanted to indulge past the coffee and two eggs he typically asked for. Besides, he wasn't sure coffee would be the type of delicacy that would last here forever, so he should probably stop drinking it anyway - lots of water for him then. He skipped over the mention of Valentina, still not sure if the seamstress liked him very much (and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer), but moved right on to his living quarters. "Things are fine," he answered. "I've been working at the one projector almost since I've been here. The projection room sort of became my bedroom. It's kind of in the way, but it's too heavy to move and all I really need is a bed anyway–" The waitress came over to interrupt, and Emmett ordered himself some toast and raspberry jam, one of his favorite summer indulgences. It might not be the same here, but it would be enough to bring back the memory.

“Oh, that’s actually quite smart.” Leandro commented, making a mental note of location for when he comes back to tell the kids. There wasn’t a single aspect of their day that he didn’t discuss with them ahead of time, liking just how involved they both were in their daily activities with Lupita often taking the initiative to begin their morning run down. “Then once it’s all done and we invite the other kids around they also have a safe place to take shelter where something ever happens.” He would have to resource an amulet for the space as well, though he had no plans of allowing his children - or any other - from spending the night up there. It would still provide him with some sense of comfort. 

Leandro smiled at the kind gesture and overall manners that Emmett displayed despite the lack of societal norm in Arcadia. It’s the same values he planned to instill in his kin so they grew to treat others with respect and kindness. A nod of thanks acknowledged the younger male opening the door while Leandro slid through the threshold and led the way to his usual booth. “I had been meaning to get to that, thank you. I’m sure that also extends to Valentina.” Lea let out a brief chuckle then moved on, “How is your living arrangements over in the cinema, by the way? Do you find yourself in need of anything? I know there was a small food storage space over there, have you gathered enough to sustain yourself through the night and in case of any coming storms? We can’t be too careful.”

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Now that the adrenaline had worn off a bit, Emmett could feel the pulsating pain in the wound she dug into. Freshly split, he felt nauseated at the sensation of blood trickling down his skin, at the way it felt like his heart was pumping just behind it, pushing the skin up in rhythm. "Was that necessary?" Of course it was going to hurt, but it was like he could feel her fingers snaking all through his bloodstream, coursing in every part of his body. It felt unnatural, and he almost missed what Nika was saying in his focused distraction. 

“I’m trying to understand,” he defended, quiet and lame but albeit still determined. He didn’t think everybody was going to go full on panic mode - besides, there was a town-wide nightmare scenario going on in each of their heads anyway. It wouldn’t be totally unheard of for something to go a little crazy. And from what he was hearing, Reyna seemed like she was being proactive in some way at least, to keep her distance. That was smart, he thought. “It’s not exactly something to brag about anyway,” he said. Emmett whistled at Tripod and got in closer to shoo him away from Nika in the hopes to protect, standing closer to her than he would have liked but still stood up straighter in an attempt to be braver. “Give Reyna my best,” he spoke, before nodding over to his left, his fingers curled into an unsteady fist under his sling. “The door’s that way.”

"What does it matter?" she exclaimed, a slight edge of insanity to her words. The iron on her tongue was exhilarating, she began to wonder how good other parts of him would taste. It was perhaps why she didn't feel the frustration she usually felt when people asked stupid questions around her. He was young, and new, and foolish in is understanding of how this place worked. "I implore you to think of the way this town would turn on her if it found out she'd stabbed you, nevermind that she stabbed you because something in her head told her to. My God, boy, would you objectively hearing that trust that person? Especially if you weren't the only one she'd attempted to kill?"

The cat returned and Nika bent down to pet it, remnant of Emmett's blood staining its fur where her fingers stroke the top of its head. "There are no laws in hell town, no due process." She began evenly, standing up to look at him, her eyes on the blood in the fabric of his shirt. "Even if there was, you don't think someone would try to kill her before attempting to understand her? She is formidable, but they hate that around here, don't they. If you care about her, you'll keep the source of your injuries to yourself."

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Dang, that felt like a weird sort of let down. He always thought film school would be so fun, to live away and spend all his free time studying his chosen craft? That was the dream. The “living away from home” wish was granted, although since it wasn’t willing, it was difficult to imagine that it would have felt like this. But if it would have turned him into some unbearable twat, maybe it was for the best, in the end. He was still trying to figure out what his purpose in being sent here in the first place was, anyway.

Emmett nodded. The closer they got to their destination, the more the rock of anxiety that sat in his gut solidified, but he was doing his very best to not be bothered by it, to swallow it down and go along with his friend - susceptible to peer pressure as ever, thy Emmet Alsford. “I do want to try,” he said. “It’s already hard enough here. Being away from things. It’s the least I can do.” And it was enough to quiet his mind - keeping his hands busy and his brain focused on one task at a time was all he could do to keep from going mad. Emmett gave her a little smile and cautiously stepped inside the bar. It was… grimier than he expected, but then again, what was he expecting? “I’ve never been in here.”

"I dated a guy that went to film school, like a friend of a friend. He was kind of annoying so it was only one date, I'm sure you were too good for it." She furrowed her brows and pivoted to look at him, a laugh crossing her lips. "Sorry, I don't know why I told you that. I get like that sometimes, I open my big messy mouth and blah." A gesture with her hands as though she was vomiting words. "Anyway, what's your favourite film? And why?"

It seemed innocuous enough of a question, though if Charlie tried to think about movies she had watched before Hell Town it made her head hurt, as though attempting to recall things that weren't here physically hurt her. She guided him from the cinema to the bar, a short distance from the cinema and one she was certain he had done at least once. There was, after all, no shortage of things getting broken in that bar for him to fix (a few of those caused by hurricane Charlie/Akami which had made landfall a few weeks prior). "You know, that's a good quality to have around here. I think too many people try to just survive, but its good to have a purpose I think." They reached the bar and Charlie held the door open for him. "After you, my friend."

[alsfcrds]

Earlier in the day, Emmett had essentially shouted at a passerby to go and get him some parts, but they must have passed it along to the woman in front of him. He was pretty sure he shouted to a young man, but he could have been wrong - he was way in his head. All that mattered in the end was that he got his pieces and he knew he could salvage something out of it. All these months finally paid off into something worthwhile, his biggest missing piece to his life. Emmett was on a roll; he needed to figure out how to mess with the popcorn machine next.

His shoulder felt a little sore again, but figured it was just a flareup of it getting re-injured a little while ago. He didn’t want to think about that, though - the thought easily pushed itself out of his head at his mental command, and he went back to his tinkering. “Thank you!” he shouted again. He peered over the edge, past the window that looked out to the house. She was hovering right by the seat he was tied to not long ago, where his blood had turned an ugly brown over time, staining the already red seat further. “Accident,” he called, the lie easily rolling off his tongue and his tone indicating that he would not add anything else to reasoning. 

Something clicked, and the projector started humming. Emmett held up his hands as if to surrender, watching and waiting to see if it indicated anything important. “Oh my god,” he mumbled, before shouting louder:  “I got it!” The projector shone, flickering quite a bit while it settled onto the silver screen across the theater. He got back underneath it, fiddling with a few more wires - as gleeful as he was, his work wasn’t done yet. “Do you see anything?”

As he spoke, Jules let her eyes wander and take in the interior of the cinema. She hadn't been here yet, in the very little time that this place had forced itself to be her home, and she found it interesting that the universe was so unkind as to put a defunct theatre in this town. It was at though God was saying, you can have fun, ha! just kidding! gotcha. She was relieved of the box and the missing weight allowed her to flex her hands.

Jules probably would have left, in fact there was no reason for her to stick around now that this (out of character) selfless deed had been completed. But there was also no reason to leave. It wasn't like she had a hair dressing appointment, or a training session, or literally anything in the world happening for her once she stepped out of the cinema. It also wasn't as though the boy had given her any option to answer in the negative.

Instead she watched him sprint out of the room and up the stairs, a protest forming and then dying in her mouth. "Yeah sure, I'll stay here and watch you tinker with shit," she mumbled to herself sarcastically. Given the opportunity she wondered the aisle, ran her hands against the fabric of the seats and felt the smooth velvet. It was an outdated type of fabric for a theatre but it did make her slightly nostalgic for something she had never had. Then she reached a seat where the red was stained with a darker red. "Ummmmm..." she called out towards the projection booth, "what the fuck happened here?" Some sort of weird voyeuristic sacrifice no doubt.

[alsfcrds]

“Gasoline?” Emmett was silently thanking the few lucky stars that still remained in his life that he wasn’t as clueless as this woman was. He was sheltered, for certain, but this was on a whole other level. He had so many questions, but little idea on where to begin. “Nobody can get out of here,” he said, his voice taking on a deeper level of exhaustion. It was hard to admit that to himself, let alone out loud. Emmett understood that this was his own unique type of penance - or that’s how he saw it, at least - but then what did that mean for the rest? Some people were doing nothing, stumbling here for no reason other than chance. 

“It’s not that they’re taking it so no one can leave, even if you walked it would just… loop you back around.” That’s how it had been explained to Emmett. He had never tried it himself, but he was scared to. What if the woods went on endlessly and he was stuck out there, running into Them without the protection of the walls of the cinema, or of anyone in the town? It was too frightening to think about a prospect like that. “I have,” he said, his pace not too brisk, but quick enough to hopefully pull the thought of violence at the church from her mind. “Where are you from? Before this, I mean.”

''The gas?'' Sera wondered out loud, shifting into a more curious mindset rather than the bored one. The boredom that made her want to play with her knife. Now she was rather intrigued, curious to know what this boy knew and whatnot. ''What do they need the gas for?'' She hadn't exactly seen any generators so far and not much else came to mind what they'd need the gas for. ''So people can't drive out of here? Is that what it is?'' Surely anyone could leave whenever they wanted, right? Sera clearly had lost the memo somewhere along the way where people were trapped in town and the gas was stored and the cars stashed away for a reason, whereas Sera experienced freedom and didn't feel like leaving. ''Why would they do that? Who here takes the gas?'' An idea popped into her mind that had the blonde gasp and tap his arm in excitement, ''can we go hunt them down after? See what evil they are up to and steal the gas back so people can leave again!''

Rubbing her hands together, a naughty grimace had set on her lips again, reaching her eyes when she eyed him with a chuckle. ''We could be like Robin Hood, you and I. Steal from the rich and give to the poor, in the form of gas.'' But first, she would like to see the cars. ''You know,'' she toned down her excitement for the nonsense thieving plans, making way for a somewhat more serious tone, ''I, uhh, have never driven a car before.'' Sera followed him around like a puppy, with a skip in her step, her previous plans of stabbing a pastor having left her head - for now. ''Have you?''