bastiansurvives

[bastiansurvives]

oh, to be his big spoon 😩

[bastiansurvives]

For a moment Bastian has to wonder if she's joking since beef had to be a rather unusual delicacy around here - but he does realize that a good portion of their population has not been stuck here for quite as long as he has. "Y-yes..." He says hesitantly, betraying the lie she told him to stick to. But what it was didn't matter, flavor wise he felt it could compare to beef. Probably?

"I think you will like it," he says simply, gesturing towards the bowl again. "It's packed with fresh vegetables. A hearty broth. Just what we all need right about now." Perhaps what they needed always in this town, but weren't always fortunate enough to have. "Trust me. I like to think myself a pretty good cook."

Though she tried her best to not think of it, Dilara couldn’t help but to feel terror whenever someone walked past her. She hid it well. Composing her features before anyone was close enough to notice in the darkness that surrounded them, but having lost her ability to see a mere ten steps ahead of her - in a place such as this - felt like yet another slap in the face. Like another comedic tragedy just waiting to happen. So while she would have loved nothing more than to stay in the safety of her new home, Dilara forced herself through the town day after day. Ensuring she stopped for nothing and no one on her walk to the clinic, and more presently - the diner. 

“  Um,  ” she had taken two steps within when he spoke, which didn’t leave her much of a choice but to accept in his excitement. “  Sure, what is it?  ” Dilara eyed the soup, questioning its content, but hoping his answer was relatively normal. In the few months she’s been around, there’d been more than a few questionable meals placed before her. Some she couldn’t fathom yet still closed her eyes and accepted the rations. “  Hopefully just beef, right? Lie to me, if not.  ”

[bastiansurvives]

"I'm not opposed to trying just about any wine, really. But I'll second you there, I like a little sweetness. Also depends on what it's pairing with. A good steak on the grill or a bowl of pasta - maybe would be more open to a dryer red." He truly isn't that much of a wine drinker overall, but the lightness of the conversation is a welcome distraction from the world they were living in. "Just sitting out on the patio enjoying a glass? Perhaps a refreshing white or rosé." He smiles lightly, "I'll confess, I typically choose a wine based on how much I like the bottle or label or simple look of it rather than the actual type. Is that a crime?"

As she confesses to not having anyone that she's tied to, no one waiting out beyond the borders of Arcadia wondering what had happened to her after the last - it had to be around a year now since Stella had arrived in town - Bastian simply nods. Perhaps that is better, in this case if not others. "No, no. I don't think so. I know plenty of people who are happy on their own." Bastian, unfortunately, had never been one of those people. Besides, Stella had people here, for what it was worth.

His head bobs just slightly at her words, thumbing the ring around his finger. It had always been a habit, ever since the ring was placed on his finger. He fiddled. But he felt like it was a tick he did even more these days than he used to, lost in thought about the world that once had been. "He's...sweet. Kind. Smart. Got a heart too big for his own good. A pain in my ass sometimes. I might be a little bias though."

stella hummed as the craving of a luxury no longer easy for possession tingled the tip of her tongue. "mm, what kind of red do you like ? i'm more of a blend. i need a little sweetness. less of that oak flavor. i'd drink it, sure, but sometimes a dry wine tastes like i just dragged my tongue along the bottom of a barrell." the blonde softened a laugh. humor is what her line of sponsors had complained about. lack of vulnerability. avoiding by becoming a jester. sobriety wasn't ever a path stella clung her feet to.

her eyes followed down to the band. vows wrapped around. had his heart been tender ? "...me? oh, no." a beat. as stella hadn't known what that feeling may have been like. she had no partner worried on the other side of this hellscape. no family. her only person had been stuck in this place — and stella hated to admit that her and emery's relationship had only really been allowed to blossom in this place. before it'd just been letters. nothing face to face. "nobody." facial features scrunched. "god, that made me sound.... lonely. — or pathetic ? a woman of my age, but..." stop talking. you're rambling. being an independent woman doesn't make you lesser. —

fingers skimmed along the top of the table following the woods design. "sorry. — for the rambling. —but also, for what your heart must feel." stella eased sincerity. her empathy could outstretch across the town, and warm them all to spring. "what's he like ?"

[bastiansurvives]

Things had certainly slowed down at the diner ever since they'd been plunged into everlasting darkness. It made Bastian wonder how everyone was fairing. After all, he encountered most of the population through the diner, the clinic, or the common house - but with everyone tending to stick closer to 'home' than normal, it made him worry. But there was a very good reason for people not wanting to venture outside, too. Each time the door opened a fresh jolt of anxiety rushed through his bloodstream at the thought that it was something less than human finding their way inside.

But this time, at least, it was only Emmeline. She had been helping out around the diner since her arrival a couple of months prior and he was admittedly glad to see her in one piece after a few days away. He finished up serving the other brave resident who had faced the darkness, then turned his attention to his 'coworker', of sorts. "It's good to see you," he greeted as he approached where she'd retreated to in the back of the diner, his eyes skimming over her to be certain that she truly was still in one piece. "Are you doing okay? Hungry?" A hand gestured over towards the stove where a pot of stew was simmering on low.

the nights had always been the worst time for the woman and it endless. emmeline had actively avoided going to work at the diner for several days, hiding out in her room located in the attic of the church, unable to sleep unless the tears came. this was her own personal taste of hell- how could she think that she'd been sent here for a reason at all now? it was a punishment and whatever was doing it would enjoy seeing her squirm. someone had finally convinced her to emerge, to try get back into a routine by going into the diner and offering her time. emmeline wasn't the most attentive worker alive but she did have compassion and that went a long way. even when others were upset, didn't understand her and would lash out, she'd always meet her with the same kindness that was shown to her.

still, there had been a shift in her and she carried a haunted look on her face to work. a sigh of relief escaped her as she saw bastian, wanting to interrupt his interaction immediately but she let it play out as she lingered in the background. her eyes darted every so often to the covered windows and she'd shuffle on her feet uncomfortably. shaking her head, the woman began to walk to the back to put her things down and get ready to step in and help.

[bastiansurvives]

Her answer somewhat skirted the point of the question, but Bastian didn't mind too much. Sometimes, keeping things simple and not digging too deep into the hurt and pain of the world they were living in was best. It was far easier to complain about their inability to take a pleasant stroll at night (or, as their apparent reality stood, even during the 'day') than it was to think about what could have been in the world beyond the borders of their own. "Is it cliché to say that I always enjoyed the sunset stroll? Particularly on the beach - if it wasn't too crowded." There was something to be said in watching the color drain from the sky in bright streaks of yellows, to golden oranges, to pinks and purples and navy blues. Until darkness settled and the air cooled.

Bastian's gaze follows hers just briefly to the windows again, knowing that even if they might be unseen in the moment they were certainly still out there, before his attention returns to her and the topic at hand. He gives a huff of a self-deprecating chuckle when she asks about being afraid of the dark. "Listen, I cannot deny that even in the slightest. In fact, I remember nights where my daughter would ask me to check under her bed for monsters and I had to pretend I wasn't nervous about the concept myself." It was worse, here, he thought. His mind conjuring monsters that lurked in every shadow and threatened to tear him apart, even behind the 'safety' of the amulets strung up around town.

She's right, too, in that these monsters are all the more frightening because they wear smiles on their faces and casually walk the streets without even a hurry to their step. They know they own the streets of Arcadia. Of that, there is no doubt. Was it to make them fear that they behaved this way, or something even more sinister? Was it meant to be welcoming? In some twisted sort of way, perhaps that was the case. If you didn't know better, could you see the wickedness behind the grin? "I think I might prefer the monster under the bed."

a loaded question. what did cara want, exactly ? it was a difficult code — cracking that truth. releasing true wants into the air felt close to vulnerability. something the woman didn't like to splay her fingers against. too raw. to real. "a nice walk outside." though it wasn't her deepest desire — cara missed the normalcy of taking a stride in the late hours of the night. the cool air reddening her cheeks, hands stuffed in pockets. that night air allowed the release of the day. there would be no fear of monsters. "didn't you ever take nightly strolls ? didn't know it was a luxury until these freaks came into view." hair slightly tossed over her shoulder to catch a quick glance of who she was referring to. them. smiling. glowing with the craving of devouring you piece by piece. "they just fun suck everything, don't they ?"

— and she left it at that. her wants. no tipping toe left to explore what cara wanted in a partner. a true partner. no, that sort of commitment was only on display for humors sake. there had been no will to emotionally invest. emotions made her run. "were you ever a kid that was afraid of the dark ?" an itch at the back of her neck told her that perhaps this town liked to play with its victims fears. "ever lay in bed and think something was lurking in the closet ? under the bed ? or your lump of clothes looked like some creature ?" she hummed out before taking another bite. the food pushed between her molars — shoved up against her cheek. after swallowing, "i think it's scarier that they smile, and don't run. actually— i think it kind of pisses me off."

[bastiansurvives]

Bastian chuckles softly at Shaw's words, a hint of pride slipping through his bloodstream at their compliments. He had always been fond of cooking for his family - and even more so when he could pour his heart into sweet treats for special occasions such as birthdays or other such celebrations. How many of those had he missed, now, in the time that he'd been trapped here in this hellish town he'd been forced to call home?

The spiraling thoughts were quickly discarded, lest he find himself lost in them, and his attention was focused upon Shaw. "Please," he gestured for them to continue, "I hope it's up to your expectations." He takes the seat across from Shaw, gesturing with a wave of his hand for the spoon to proceed into the stew. If anyone needed to keep their strength up, it was Shaw. They played a pivotal role in this town...

Bastian's eyes flick towards the crutch that had been used to assist in Shaw's walk to the diner. "How have you been healing up?" He wished there was something more he could've done for them, to make the recovery...easier, somehow. "Anything I can do for you? You should be taking it easy..." But was that really an option in this town?

The town’s light had fled. Theirs too. Still life persisted, as it often did, and Shaw gripped their crutch as they ventured outside in search of something living. Leaving their room was a rare outing, but the stretch of distance between the clinic and the diner was at least familiar in the way old wounds were familiar. So the doctor had traversed its streets, slowly and with care, the careful expedition of blood on its voyage out from the heart. 

They took their place on the table nearest the door, the absence of light only disorienting when their senses had been so glazed already. Bastian’s kindness would always be welcome, at least. Their visits to the dinner had been sparse in the earlier months when he’d taken over, but now it became routine. An insistence, perhaps, that they were still here, now a taker than a giver of goodwill.

“Bastian, I don’t think I’m at liberty to refuse you,” they said, taking the spoon. “You’re among the few people I trust to make a mean stew.” The bowl offered was surprisingly hearty by Arcadia’s standards that Shaw was almost sheepish to take it. For bones stronger, hearts less worn. Still the guilt persisted. “You’re sure, though?” Their spoon hovered just atop the bowl, watching idly as the stainless steel filled with condensate.

[bastiansurvives]

"Soup is always a comfort, isn't it?" And in this place, comfort was something they all needed. As much as Bastian wanted to feed the town with healthy, nutritious options, comfort foods were also rather high on his list. But of course, he worked with whatever he was given. The greenhouses was one of the most important structures in their town as far as Bastian was concerned - and Mia happened to have settled down there and been tending to the supply of freshly grown vegetables of her own volition since.

"What have you brought this time?" he inquires with a soft smile on his lips as she tucks into the stew, his attention shifting over to what she had placed on the table top nearby. A few good looking potatoes, some leeks - yes, these would go together nicely as well.

"Thanks for bringing these over, Mia. These will be put to good use." He looks back over to her, giving just a brief cursory glance to ensure she is still in one piece, more or less. "How have things been over at the greenhouse? Hopefully keeping you busy..." And keeping her mind off the world that felt like it was ending around them all. "Did you go to that...Settlement...thing?"

It was hard for Mia to be certain how long she'd been trapped in this town. She'd done her best to keep a tally in the greenhouse, but once hitting month two, it had to be given up. The more tallies, the easier hopelessness sank in, and there was no time for that. Bastian was one of the first people Mia met after he made his way into the greenhouse for herbs and vegetables. Their first encounter scared the shit out of her, but in the long run she'd grown thankful for it. After harboring years of parental issues, equal parts her mother and father, his entire aura managed to create just the spark she needed. So, of course, when the power was out and being alone creeped her out too much, the diner was the place to be.

She didn't come empty-handed; a few potatoes and leeks had sprouted, and if anyone could make the perfect soup, it was Bastian. Before Mia could even comment on how good it smelled, he was already offering a bowl. "When have I ever turned down..." She sniffed the bowl once more and smiled softly. "Stew, ohh, you must be reading my mind. I've been in a soup mood, and so I brought some ingredients." Placing her bounty on the nearest table, she then took the bowl from his hands and sipped from the spoon.

"So much better than a cup of ramen, that was my specialty back home."

[bastiansurvives]

Bastian hums in acknowledgement of Stella's words, though he can't say that he agrees with it. Not the specifics of it, anyway; he had never been particularly fond of such a habit. But vices were what they were - and he could understand wanting something that would sooth. Particularly in the world they were living in. Though the mention of a glass of wine he could certainly agree with. "A glass of wine would definitely be comforting right about now..."

How long had it been now since the lights had come back to life? Since the sun had risen once again, as if the world were back to normal? Bastian had never cared much for his cell phone - it had been stashed away somewhere long forgotten until the familiar ringtone began to play again. Seeing his name upon the screen, his heart had leapt. Finally, finally this nightmare was over, and he was going to be freed from here. Instead, the line was buzzing and dead, his beautiful voice not to be heard on the other side...even as his phone rang again, and again, and again.

His eyes lift when she speaks, as if following his train of thought directly to his husband. He looks to the ring still worn around his finger and nods the slightest bit. "I - yes. I do." For a just a moment, was the past tense playing on his tongue? It had been a long time, now, since he had last seen him. "You?" Who did she leave behind, if anyone? He wasn't sure what answer he hoped for, though he wondered if such ghosts were haunting her as well.

location. ⁺ common house.

"i hate to say it," untrue. "i could really go for a cigarette right now." or two. perched by a window letting the smoke curl while the stick burned. tongue swiped along her front teeth. as if the nicotine stain had been there. instead, a phantom taste drawn out from a craving. stella had puffed away at her pack of shame cigarettes within the first two days of being in arcadia. stress induced. panic. fear. all things in abundance that nicotine couldn't tame. "cigarettes and night conversations always paired well....with a glass of wine too —" luxuries all missed.

stella slid into the chair beside bastian. the common house was a hodgepodge of personalities — his was one she'd be fond of indulging. "you have a husband, right ?" too personal ? a sore spot ? stella slightly pursed her lips hoping it hadn't been an overstep. her family had all passed minus emery. stella had been thankful to have her sister around, surely, but in this capacity of fighting for survival ... it wasn't ideal.

@bastiansurvives // closed starter.

[bastiansurvives]

— nn. (via eternaldroplets)

[bastiansurvives]

Ophelia appeared in a flurry of motion, immediately locking the door behind her upon entering. Bastian feared those things outside, but he couldn't very well lock the others out who were simply seeking a warm meal - or at least, something to fill their bellies. So he simply kept a careful eye on the doors and windows, hoping that his luck wasn't about to run out.

His eyes flicked from her form huddled up against the door and out the window towards the faces that had followed her, creatures wearing disturbingly wide smiles as they called to their victims. Bastian could only imagine what they had been saying to Ophelia just moments ago, trying to reel her in close...

"You're safe in here," Bastian urged her in a softened tone, trying to encourage her comfort within the walls of the diner. The outside would always be questionable, especially with the sunlight extinguished above their heads. But he did his best to make sure this was among the safer places in town. "Surely this will help you feel a little better, at least?" The corner of his lips flicker up in a smile as she accepts the meal from him, singing its praises as she settles in. "It would be lovely with a glass of wine. Perhaps a full bodied red?" If only that were an option. As well as the sunlight kissing their skin.

He sighs lightly, glancing back towards the windows for the briefest of moments before tearing his eyes away from the faces that threatened to draw him in to his death. "People used to say that the sun rising in the morning was a guarantee, didn't they? I suppose this place never has followed the rules of the world, though..." Thinking too much on it, on what it meant if the sun were to not return - it made his heart shudder in his chest. He had to focus on something else, almost anything else beyond the monsters in the darkness. Otherwise he would so easily succumb to the fears he barely kept hidden beneath the surface. "We've made it through all the rest of the things this place has thrown at us thus far..." But was this different? Or just par for the course?

The cracks in the facade she put up for the girls started to show with each passing day - or night? - of however long the darkness still fell over town. They were forced to go out and get food and other supplies they ran out of in their little house she refused to call home. And out of the six of them, she was the toughest cookie - or she liked to believe. There was definitely no way she let one of the kids go outside, and she needed Rylee to stay safe, to stay home with her girls... in case anything happened to her. Because the girls needed their mom over anything. Over anyone. So she ran like hell when the coast seemed clear - mostly.

There'd been one of them that had seen her make a run for it and screeched to get the attention of another two or three as well. They had said things to her to get her to stop, They'd mocked her, They'd played the guilt card and They most especially used her own loved ones against her. The threat of getting them killed one way or another. But Ophelia had tried to ignore all that talk, let it slide past her as her heart raced inside her chest and her legs hurt from all the running she did to get to the diner. Once inside, she'd closed the door in a hurry and loudly. Panting for air, she softly thanked the lords she had made it in one piece. The diner had become a safe place, along with the house they'd claimed as theirs in town, and it showed when the tears - when the relief - ran down her cheeks.

''Fuck,'' her voice cracked when she laid eyes on the chef - illuminated by the many candles in the diner - a man who radiated so much warmth and love, who saw right through her, who knew the way to her heart so much so that her walls broke right in front of him. ''I-'' she tried to bring out, ''I need a moment,'' Ophelia's hands found the lock on the door and watched out the window as she gained her breath back. They stood there, smiling, as ominously and creepily as ever. In the pitch black.

Turning around, having gathered her thoughts together, got her breath back for the most part and feeling her heart rate calm down, she made time for the chef's heartwarming offer. Taking ahold of the bowl and spoon, she melted at the very first bite that collided with her taste buds. ''If I close my eyes tight enough, I could picture myself eating this in a five star Michelin restaurant, this is the best I've had in a while. Shit, Bastian, I think you're onto something here.....a shame I can't enjoy this in daylight. I'd enjoy this much more with a good glass of wine. Sun on my face. Bask in the sunlight. Fuck.....will it ever be day again? I'm so fucking scared.''

[bastiansurvives]

Taking the stool beside Cara as she settled down, Bastian folded his hands together before him on the countertop. "Very true," he agreed in a soft tone, head bobbing just slightly up and down to reinforce the sentiment. This town was little more than a cage, a hell for each and every one of them trapped within. Each day brought something new, something more horrifying and...deadly. He had seen it himself, far too close for comfort. He simply wasn't built for this place.

In many ways he felt as if he was just counting down his time until the end, when he'd meet the same fate his friends had suffered upon their arrival. Was there any other ending? For any of them?

Still, her humor draws out a brief chuckle, a blush that crawls up his neck. "Oh? But what do you really want? If you weren't...trapped in this hell town?" Certainly it wouldn't be him, the anxious man who couldn't always keep it together.

He heaves a sigh as she goes on with honesty, his eyes driving back towards the windows. He's almost surprised not to see the faces painted up against the glass. "This...hasn't been easy. The darkness here...it never has..." But now it was never ending - when would the sun return? If ever? He didn't like thinking like that, in such pessimistic of ways. But he'd learned that this place has more mysteries than any other, and nothing should surprise him anymore...But the next thing around the corner might just end up being the thing that kills him.

"consider me pleasantly surprised." another bite. god, it was good. soothing parts of the woman she didn't know needed to thaw out. relaxation extended when the woman moved to slide into one of the diner bar stools. the counter was met with a small clank of her bowl while her elbows rested on the counter. "loaded question." her lips stretched to a beaming smile. how could anyone possibly doing in a place like such ? though, cara had a way of keeping her emotions intact where others spiraled. helpful to surviving, and not letting her mind slip to emotional insanity.

typically so — cara responded, "incredible. getting hitched to the town cook. what more could a gal want ?" if she had the courage to say it out loud, cara would claim bastian as her beard. take him home despite the ring banded on his finger. someone like bastian would make her family pleased. or maybe not, usually the men her family approved of were privileged assholes. bastian was a good one. solid. if only he was paired with a vagina — cara would be sold. "no, really, it's been... uhm, hell ?" face scrunched. "lack of better words. you know... but not on the brink of ripping my hair out, and running into the woods any time soon." fingers gripped the spoon. twirling it mindlessly in the bowl. "how are you holding up ?" her other hand patted the stool beside her.

[bastiansurvives]

"I have heard that - and those blind dates...is that what they're called? Not just meeting someone at random but being in a restaurant with all lights off so that it is just you and your date's conversation and enjoying the meal. I suppose that it may take away your ability to find the meal in the first place, though." There is something to be said about appreciating food for the smell and taste of it rather than the visual appeal. But don't they also say that presentation is critical too? "I suppose they also say you eat with your eyes, first..." Presentation was simply not that much of a priority here in town. Food was a necessity, and Bastian tried to improve it as much as possible. But sometimes there was only so much that could be done with what they had on hand.

He watches for a moment as she brings a spoonful to her lips before his attention turns to filling a fresh bowl with a small tasting for himself. Sampling another mouthful, he nods in agreement when she speaks. "Those are fair criticisms. Some cream to give it a little more body than just the broth would make a significant difference..." He pauses, considering. He couldn't remember the last time they had any significant dairy, actually. "And bread is always nice with a soup. Or sauce. Overall, though - I think it turned out pretty satisfying." His eyes stray over her shoulder to the darkness beyond the windows, considering. What time was it, even? It sure gave the appearance of the middle of the night, and yet sleep still felt hours from him in either direction. Not that his sleeping patterns around here reflected daylight or night all that well as it was. Sleep, for Bastian, was fitful and difficult to come by already.

"How have you been doing, Logan?" He inquires after a beat of silence passes between them. "I hope the clinic has been...relatively quiet?" It had been a minute since he had stopped by to check on things there - Shaw and Logan were sure to have it covered in most cases. But now, with the darkness lingering...he wasn't sure he wanted to know what sort of tragedies might be taking place beyond the windows.

Despite recent events, Logan had tried her best to adhere to a semblance of routine. Bouncing exclusively in-between houses within walking distance of the clinic had severely limited her sense of productivity, though thankfully so far the extent of any injuries beneath that narrow umbrella had been limited to the bumps and bruises of vision-impaired clumsiness. Only when her stomach's audible growling protested her lack of self-directed attention, even more noticeable in the silence cast by elongated shadows, did she think to drop by the diner for a quick solution. Though her initial plan had been to drop in and out with whatever was most portable and convenient, upon finding the kitchen still occupied, she couldn't deny the appealing prospect of something with more sustenance. "Thanks. You're a lifesaver," Logan accepted the bowl without resistance, too sleep deprived and disoriented to know if it would be considered breakfast, lunch, or dinner. If there was one consistency to being a local it was never knowing when the next chance to rest or eat would be — and to never take such opportunities for granted. “They say food tastes better in the dark, elevates the sensory experience or something,” she mused aloud, prodding at the substance now in her possession — some form of soup or stew, judging by the texture. Anything was better than the mystery meat that occasionally made the rounds of town during occasions of peak scarcity; resurfaced canned goods from so long ago the contents had turned a mottled grey colour. Taking a spoonful into her mouth, she paused a moment before giving her verdict: "A solid six out of ten. With some bread, crackers, or cream? Eight. But I can let my imagination do the extra work."

[bastiansurvives]

They were running low on supplies as it was - there was only so much game in town, and even in the best of circumstances the hunters could only do so much. Now, without the sun on their skin keeping Them at bay, hunting was even more unlikely. Bastian didn't want to think about what might happen if this were to go on indefinitely. No sun at all? Somehow he doubted that was good for any of them.

For now, though - Bastian was going to what he could to at least help improve the moods of those who made the trip out to the diner in hopes of something to fill their stomachs.

"Good," Bastian says with a nod of approval, a twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips when it seems the other is enjoying the meal. "How are thinks out there?" He inquires after a moment, gesturing back towards the locked up doors. "Must not have been too bad if you were able to make it here." A shiver races up his spine at just the thought of leaving the dinner to return to the common house later on - but that was a worry for...well. Later on. Shoved back with all the other worries that plagued him when he let his mind slow down.

It was when the sun didn’t rise the next morning that really sent Ben over the edge. He’d been told for so long now that when the time came to be a hunter, when it really counted, that he’d be ready for it - or, that he’d have to be ready, because that of course was the default of all of this. But the time was here and he wasn’t expecting it to be this - he had known already that arrows and bullets couldn’t stop those creatures who ruled the night, but what was he supposed to do - shoot a rope to the sun and hope it would get reeled in, like a fish on a line?

His bow was in a constant state of use. An arrow was at the ready but the bow was only taut when necessary. If it couldn’t kill Them, maybe one could slow them down enough for Ben to get away. He was already at a disadvantage with his equipment weighing him down, in terms of speed. Not that They ran very fast. Or at all.

Ben figured the best thing he could do was make rounds to everywhere there was typically life, even if there was no power. Eyes had adjusted to the darkness - his own, and he would assume others - enough to where the lack of light was a nuisance, but it was beginning to get slightly easier navigating the place. The diner was the first stop on his list of places to go and his stomach rumbled the second he stepped foot through the door. Maybe the stress of the last… while was catching up to him. When was his last meal? “Oh– thank you.” Ben took the bowl with careful, grateful hands, and began to eat. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he didn’t find himself caring too much anyway. “It’s hitting the spot, whatever it is.”

[bastiansurvives]

For a while after Bastian first arrived in town he had refused to step outside even when the sun still hung low on the horizon. It was hard to trust that those monsters only came out when the sky was inked in black, that there wasn't a threat of attack if the sun was still present. Eventually he learned how to operate in the town he had reluctantly been forced to call home. But even now, with the darkness lingering and no choice but to step outside in it in order to keep on living, he was anxious at the whole ordeal. He wanted nothing to do with the things that went bump in the night.

But there were others here, living and breathing and fighting to get by day after day just like he was. And if he couldn't care for his family who he hoped were out beyond the borders living relatively happy lives without him, he at least had to do right by the other survivors. As best as he could do within the circumstances, anyway.

Bastian met Cara's dry, flat disinterest with a soft smile of encouragement, the bowl held aloft until she finally reached out to take it from his hands. Sometimes a hot meal that tasted halfway decent was all a person needed to liven up, even in the darkest of times. "I can only work within the limits of what we've got on hand, but I'm still hoping you'll be pleasantly surprised." At her words he could only chuckle, the tips of his fingers turning the wedding band around and around on his opposite hand. "For you, there are no strings. Happy to give you a warm meal whenever you like. How have you been holding up, Cara? With all...this." His hand waves absently through the darkness, still ever present despite the diner dotted with flickering candles that gave off a warm glow.

the party at the settlement had been lasting longer than cara cared for. the darkness looming around arcadia was daunting. she could feel herself wilting like a flower away from the sun. god forbid this town had a little fun for one night... now the party was over, and cara wanted someone to turn on the lights — tell everyone they had to go home. no one was going home. the lights weren't coming back on.

"fucking christ." the red head muffled shutting the door quickly. the risk of leaving the common house had been high — but cara was certain if she stayed cooped up waiting for something to happen, she'd lose her damn mind. taking a deep breath, the woman allowed her feet to carry her further into the diner. the first few moments didn't go silent — a break of the air with bastians voice, and an offering. "chef boyardee." cara greeted dryly — her eyes following the bowl. "smells like fresh kill...lucky me." tongue to the tip of her teeth. cara knew she wasn't matching his energy. it was tough to mentally climb upwards in moments where your life clock was ticking. collapsing to his gesture, cara reached for the extended bowl. there was no denying — the concoction smelled good. the bottom of the bowl in her hands felt good. lifting the spoon upwards, cara parted her lips to take a bite. after a beat, "well, shit, bastian. might have to marry you now. wife you up."

[bastiansurvives]

Open ! | Bastian and your muse at the diner

The darkness that had settled upon the town was...unsettling, if one was to put it lightly. But time didn't stop. It just kept on moving, and Bastian had stopped trying to make sense of any of it long ago. They had to keep on keeping on - and one way they would do that is to make sure they all got at least a somewhat satisfying meal in their bellies.

Bastian had made it his own personal mission to try and keep the survivors of the town fed with healthy and tasty meals, even if what he was working with was limited. He was working on a stew on this particular evening when someone stepped into the diner and closed the door firmly behind them. Yeah, life still went on and people still needed to eat, even if there were creatures looking to kill you beyond those doors.

He shook away the thought and slapped a smile onto his face, grabbing a spoon and a bowl to fill with a serving, soon approaching the newcomer and extending the bowl in their direction. "Here - please. You've got to try this and let me know what you think."

[bastiansurvives]

⸻ pedro pascal, 50, male, he/him ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of BASTIAN FERNÁNDEZ HERRERA. they are FORTY-SEVEN, and have been missing for EIGHT YEARS. when the sun rises, they work as a COOK and NURSE. rumors in town say they can be APPREHENSIVE and AFFECTIONATE. they chose to live in COMMON HOUSE, and have an uncanny resemblance to HERNANDO FUENTES (Sense 8), JEFF SADECKI (Yellowjackets), TRAVIS MONTGOMERY (Station 19), BOB BELCHER (Bob's Burgers). can they survive another night ?…⸻ faint laughter lines adorning tired eyes, the tapping of a branch against your window, lighting a candle in the darkness, the warmth and homeyness of something baking in the oven.

BASICS ;

FULL NAME: Bastian Cristobal Fernández Herrera AGE: 47 BIRTH DATE: November 22nd GENDER: Male PRONOUNS: He/Him OCCUPATION: Cook & Nurse RESIDENCE: Common House LENGTH OF TIME TRAPPED IN ARCADIA: Eight Years

BACKGROUND ;

tw; implied homophobia, blood/violence mention

Born and raised in Santiago, Chile before immigrating to San Diego, California in the United States for better employment opportunities for his father, Bastian had a relatively simple and quiet childhood. While his parents were strict with their expectations of their children, Bastian had always easily fallen in line. He was a good student in school, rarely missed curfew, and did what he was asked without complaint.

It wasn’t until high school, until him, that anything started going awry with his family dynamics. Perhaps Bastian was a little too quick to fall in love, but a friendship rekindled into something so much more and the enamored teenager could hardly be kept away. He started bending rules to spend more time with his boyfriend, which eventually drew the attention of his parents. The more he tried to wiggle out of and bend the rules his parents set the stricter the rules became, and soon enough they demanded to know where Bastian's rebellious streak had come from. When it was realized that Bastian was breaking curfew to spend all of his free time with a boy he was most certainly in love with, something broke between Bastian and his parents.

His parents didn’t approve of the relationship and they simply said that they would not tolerate it. Put between a rock and a hard place, Bastian ended up making the decision to pursue the relationship - even if it meant cutting ties with his parents. He packed up his things and left without another word as soon as he graduated high school.

He hasn’t regretted the decision since, but there’s still an ache in his heart over the loss that he’s tried to bury deep.

Following his love out of San Diego and building a life of their own was easy, and he did so without question. They were still both rather young when they decided to marry, having a small and intimate ceremony. Shortly there after they began discussing adoption and piecing together their own close knit family. Bastian made it his primary purpose in life to ensure that each of his children knew just how loved they were and that they wanted for nothing - even when money grew tight.

Bastian split his time between caring for the children during the day and nights at nursing school. Once he graduated he took shifts so that he could spend as much time with his family as possible while also making money, but it was hard on him. As much as he enjoyed his patients and coworkers, home was where his heart was.

The day Bastian walked out of their house to cool down after an argument about something silly (was it that he left the dishes in the sink again? Perhaps that he hadn't folded the laundry and it had sat in a pile on the chair too long - something that hardly mattered the more time spread between) was the day that would live in Bastian's nightmares moving forward. He had walked away because sometimes that was all it took to let the anger of the moment fizzle and cool, to recognize that perhaps mistakes were made but no harm was done. He'd met and gone out with a couple of friends, took the night for himself - and somehow in the midst of it they'd ended up in Hell.

Monsters met them there. He lost more than just his connections to his family that night - he watched his friends brutalized and bloodied before his eyes. And he couldn't save them. He wears scars from that night, both physical and mental, carved deep into his flesh and mind.

For a while Bastian tried to make sense of this place and the hand it had dealt him. Like so many others, he spent weeks attempting to escape the town only to end up back where he started again, and again, and again. Eventually he focused his attention on other things. He didn't give up, per se - he'd never give up on returning to his family. But he was making the most of it while living here, trying to live some semblance of a life. Until the opportunity arises to go back to the one he left behind so many years ago now. If there is any life to get back to, anymore.

INQUIRIES ;

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

He doesn't quite remember all the details of that night or how he'd ended up at the clinic with blood on his hands. There was so much blood, and everything he'd tried to do to stop the flow had proved fruitless. He'd stayed the night there at the clinic, and that night and the following days - weeks - they were all blurred together in his memory in a haze of confusion and shock and loss.

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

Bastian has always been a people person and thrives most on being around others, so it wasn't much of a question that he ended up at the common house. He likes taking care of the others who live there in any way that he can, be it by cooking up a meal for them or patching up bumps and bruises. He likes to be useful in some way to the others who are trapped in Arcadia with him.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

It had been some silly argument. Bastian had never been known to do well with confrontation; he was a peace keeper, a people pleaser, and arguments flustered him. Now he can't even remember what it was that they'd been arguing about. Nothing that mattered, certainly, in the grand scheme of things. He'd walked away to get a breather and it proved to be one of the biggest decisions that changed the course of his entire life. He had ended up at a friend's place, which wasn't an unheard of occurrence. Bastian's marriage was stable and loving, but even the most stable and loving of connections had their moments. They weren't perfect by any means, but they were happy. They had been happy.

His friend had decided that going out, getting dinner and drinks, would help lighten the mood and clear his head. But somehow they'd ended up in unfamiliar territory where something wasn't quite right.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?

His husband and children, whom he misses dearly every single day. At this point he has accepted that he may never see them again and is trying to live the best life that he can in Arcadia, but that doesn't stop the sadness that creeps in on him at night.