Cascade Falls [IC]

[QueenOfHearts]

It was something straight out of a horror movie out there and he knew it. Hell, back home? He would have been the first to suggest going to watch a movie set up like this. When men become monsters and you haven't the foggiest your neighbor is the one out for your bloody, gory death. Where little girls could slit a grown man's throat with little more than a giggle. Yeah, before now? He would have found that a delightfully twisted and horrifying movie. Things are always a lot more amusing when it wasn't your reality. Not when a man that had been nothing but good to others is being hunted like a savage dog. Though his mind was pulled from those morbid musing as a chilly tone cut through the quite of the store, finally bringing his attention to the man who had took up the space beside him. Another witness of the Mr. Hyde to the Dr. Jeckel of this city.

Avery flinched slightly at the cold, almost violent look that had taken hold of his friend's features. He had seen the man in a dead panic. Hell, the first time had nearly made him shriek. Though in the older man's defense, it had been the first time the man had broken into his house in a night-terror fueled panic. He reacted how anyone else would had when someone break into their home. Though in retrospect that plan to roll out of bed would have been a whole lot more effective if he hadn't tangled himself in his sheets and had a rather intimate reunion with the rug. But this? This was quite a bit different than a blind panic. He felt the need to soothe and help the man find a little peace. No, this was something that put Avery on edge and made him more than a little concerned. Sammy was a big man, he had a few inches on him, let alone the man looked like he had done more than just keep in shape. While the dark blond? Well he might have gotten a touch lazy.

That was beyond the point though, he knew he was treading on thin ice, and what he was thinking, it would send him plummeting into that icy waters. "Sam…" He breathed, wiping his hands on the front of that almost obnoxious bright yellow and blue striped material of his apron. "Sammy, calm down. It's just'a…" He stopped clearing his throat, glancing back out at the people before he reached out pulling on blind. It taking a few fumbling tugs before the thin wooden blinds came down, bouncing against the wood of the store windows wooden stage that would display toys for all to see. He doubted that anyone wanted to see the latest set of toy soldiers or the cuddly friend he had stitched together when they had blood lust on the mind. "It's just'a celebration." He managed to push past his lips with only the smallest of catches in his throat. "One you ain't ready for." The older man added finally looking up to meet his gaze.

No one was ready for a Fête their first time. He sure as hell hadn't been. Let alone someone who he had considered a friend to get so riled up and excited for it. It was like watching a boy get excited to go on his first hunting trip with the older boys. Not going out and killing a man. Before Avery could even try and talk his new friend into calming down he had already turned away from him to stalk into the back room. Most likely to retrieve his keys. He knew that look on his face. He knew it and had seen it on men probably nowhere near as shell shocked as he was. He has seen men and women come back from overseas and not look like they had seen as many horrors as this one man has seemed to. He knew as soon as he received the call; Sammy couldn't go out there.

It wasn't for the sake of the people out there, no, some of them could have used a good sock to the old noggin. Though he doubted it would have helped a thing. What would have happened in truth was something worse, and Sammy would be throwing himself in the middle of a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. If he didn't get a bloodthirsty mob turned on him, he might find himself on the wrong end of the "law". "Sammy…" He called a warning hint to his tone. He sounded more like a father lecturing a misbehaving little boy instead of a grown man.

With the single thought of what might befall his friend if he stepped outside that door is what brought the older man moving across the floor in long strides, he not far behind Sammy. Though unlike the brunet that had went farther in to retrieve his belongings the toy-maker had other ideas as he quickly turned and locked the door behind him with a click. He was quick to stuff the small brass key deep in his pants pockets, before he pressed himself back against the door. Avery had no doubt that the bigger man can likely take him down in a traditional fight. It had been a good number of years since he had last found himself in a brawl. Hell, he used to be in bed before nine AM if it was a school night. So, this might not have been his brightest idea, but he knew Sam would try to break up that mob. He was willing to take a few lumps for that. "Sammy, bud, yer stayin'." He breathed, cringing as he crossed his arms with every ounce of the righteousness of a concerned friend, and quite possibly a hovering mother.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Meanwhile a certain doctor was trying to catch her breath. It had hit her like a ton of bricks. It always did, sadly. She tried she honest to goodness had been. Though there is only so far trying is going to get her. She felt that ice cold ball twist and turn in her chest to where it felt like she could never keep a full breath. Fear, panic. These were familiar friends now and she'd preferred if they would just stay home. Lex flinched as she heard some excited teens let out an excited shout running down the street with all the enthusiasm of a child with a new toy on Christmas. It made her stomach flip and knot. She wished she was frightened of the potential mayhem that could stem from an unchecked mob. She wanted to feel shocked and horrified at the fact human beings could act in such a manner. These would be far more reassuring reasons then what had her holding herself as tightly as she could, she trying her best to be mindful of the sharp end of her scalpel she still held in a white knuckled grip. How idiotic would it be if she managed to stab herself? A trained surgeon?

Her fear that settled over her like a fog, was for a dilemma of her own making. She knew him, she knew Jeramiah. She wished she just knew him from her visits to the Coffee shop. It would be simpler that way. No, she knew him from meetings. Meetings that included discussions on subjects that could get your throat slit. That did and have. Why did she go along with this? Why didn't she just duck her head and trudge through the rest of her days like every other resident? Her nerves didn't need this. It was no secret that the doctor had what might be called an anxiety problem. Overly large crowds, sudden loud sounds. She was, As Mr. Avery Howard liked to put it; jumpier then a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She had made her choice. Now she must deal with it. Alexia rubbed her free hand up and down her arm, trying to swallow back the lump in her throat as she tried to stand a little straighter, eyes kept on the ground in front of her. She had followed the flow of the other residents, making her way toward the center of town. She didn't want to go, no she didn't want to watch. She know she couldn't. But, she had to. If nothing else for the security of having looked like she attempted to celebrate despite her 'fragile disposition' few would suspect that her anxiety this time was brought on by something other than her high strung nerves.

Worse of all she found herself concerned for a young woman she had dragged into this. Into these secret meeting, encouraged ideas that could get any of them killed. Casey. Her friend, and sadly the poor woman she encouraged. She had to be upset, frightened. Lex felt as if she was responsible for the blond. If anything came of this that might harm her it would be her fault and she knew it. She cared for her friend and knew her well enough to know she had to be anything but calm at that moment. The only solace she had was that the waitress had likely been at the bar when the call came. If she had been, she had no doubt a certain bartender was likely taking care of her. That she took comfort in at least. It was one less thing that needed to be repeated over and over in her mind. She already had her hands full with the ideas of how easily this could be her, any of them.

She couldn't watch Eric do this and she knew it. The doctor had managed to calm enough where she didn't sound like she was going to faint at any moment. Though the color still refused to return to her cheeks or her hands to warm. She was returned to her senses when she was jostled by someone knocking into her shoulder making her stumble a bit to the side, as a scowl wanted to replace the frown that pulled on her lips. She looked up only a moment. Just the one. And every fiber of her being regretted it. She had to look back down, as she shuffled farther back in the crowd, doing her best to keep her eyes down. She didn't need to show anything, she didn't trust herself to keep her composure if she actually watched. The shouts, the sounds, it was already far more then she could stand. It was an effort, she didn't want to be questioned tomorrow by nurses or staff that claimed to see her anywhere but at the 'celebration'. If a certain nurse that set her on edge by even being in the same room, were to question her. It was sadly the lesser of two evils. She just knew after this, she might have to drink until seeing straight was a silly illusion.

Lex cringed, pulling her arms tighter at the shout of heretic cutting through the numerous shouts and cheers. Of human beings calling for blood. Whatever maker, god, thing, she didn't' care, above, she hated this much noise.

 

[Seeking Calliope]

Kiera moved with her group down the street and toward the center of the town. She gravitated toward the center of the mob, and found herself laughing when the group laughed at a joke or comment she didn't fully hear. The two young men, dressed in burgundy shirts, jeans, a black bowtie, and top hats, reminded her of bird dogs as they raced up driveways and around residences as if harrying prey from thick brush. Time passed and eventually the expected news reached her group. A handful of minutes later, they merged with the large mass of people who had already gathered in the center of the town.

The blonde in the masquerade mask slid through the crowd and worked her way toward the stage. Her focus shifted between the two men who were thrust into the spotlight. Her feelings toward each ranged as widely as their appearance. Anger flared as she watched the old, battered man as he was dragged through the crowd and to the stage. It was Jeremiah's fault that they were all gathered here. The rules were simple, and like any law, made in the community's best interest. It didn't matter what was beyond the fence, outside of Cascade Falls. Their world had constricted and shrank when they each woke in this place. War, famine, and disasters – the things that once polluted the nightly news – mattered not in this isolated and protected community. There was no escape, and while it was difficult not to speak of the past or speak with loved ones on the outside, it wasn't unbearable. No. Jeremiah was a selfish man. He fully knew what his actions would bring, they all did, and he continued without thought of the pain he would cause his friends, and the community. If he was hell bent on his own destruction, he should have just visited the fence.

Sympathy welled up inside of her when she looked at the grim-faced Sheriff - the man many people hated and feared - a man she knew to be gentle and passionate. It wasn't Eric's fault that he'd been made executioner. He hadn't applied for the job. He was assigned, and like any good officer he did his best to fill a difficult and unwanted position. Eric didn't make the laws, or break them. Instead, he did his best to guide wayward souls back to the straight-and-narrow. He allowed people slack and gifted them with the benefit of the doubt. He did all he could to protect the town from a Fete, but it seemed there would always be people too stubborn and selfish who he just couldn't reach or stop.

The word "heretic" began to echo amongst the crowd. It seemed like an odd word. There was no shared religion in the town, at least not that she was aware of. She allowed the oddity to wash over her and returned her attention to center stage.

Blue eyes locked upon the grim-faced figure and she willed him to find her amongst the sea of people, and much like she had done with Riley in the bar earlier, she tried to send Eric, across the wide distance between them, the strength to accept and do what needed to be done.

 

[Jackalope]

A celebration his ass--Sammy might be out of date with the goings on of society at large, but he wasn't an idiot or a fool and no one in his or her right mind would call that swelling of the dregs of humanity a celebration. His nose scrunched up at the sheer idea, his eyes narrowing sharply as he clenched his jaw hard enough to make the muscles ache, the slight grind of his teeth and the unpleasant sensation that followed just enough to make him wince, loosening his jaw with a creak. Callused, scarred fingers grabbed the long nylon lanyard attached to his one key off of the workshop table, the firm material instinctively wound around his knuckles so the key dangled firmly below as he gave the room a cursory look for anything suitable for defense...or offense. He was already moving towards a sturdy, classic wood handled dust mop with a wide metal head peeking out of a cabinet when the sound of something heavy closing and locking into place broke his attention and he whirled, dark eyes landing first on the door and then, with a mixture of shock and confusion almost immediately bleeding into mistrust and fury, on Avery.

"Avery.." The sound was barely more than a growl, tinged with just enough humanity to pull it into the realm of words, and the expression that came along with it was equally animalistic and angry, the young man's face scrunched up in a sort of desperate anger he had never shown to another person before. His hands were curling into fists unbidden, shoulders hunching to make himself look bigger and more violent, and while he had it lodged pretty heavily in his mind to never hurt the kind--if a bit derpy--toymaker before him, it was getting increasingly more difficult to remember as he stalked over, using his full height to tower over the shorter man and glare down his nose at him.

Distantly, Sammy understood that Avery was trying to protect him. Regardless of the rights or wrongs of the event about to go down outside, it was practically suicide to dive in without anything more than bare fists and a dust mop as a weapon and in the sensible parts of his mind Sammy knew that. Distantly, however, was too far for that level of reason to reach him and instead he was swarmed with the complete shock of a group of humans banding together to hurt one of their own--a man who far all Sammy could understand had done nothing wrong beyond thinking differently than some faceless dictator deemed appropriate. His lip curled, baring his teeth aggressively as Sammy took another step forward, long arms lifting to hit loudly on either side of Avery's head on the doorway. The key, still dangling from one hand, clinked loudly against the wooden door that separated the basement from the main floor and the exit Sammy fully intended to take. The door itself he could break down--he knew that from a nasty mixture of experience and simple knowledge--but it would take time and add to the scars and muscle strains that never quite healed. It would be preferable to get outside a normal way and if he had to threaten it out of Avery well... Well if he was lucky threats wouldn't need to degrade to a fist fight.

"Give me the key." He tried, voice low and very loosely feining calm, "Or I will take it from you." He could hear the mob getting louder--hear chants and cheers and jeers and his muscles tightened as he shifted his weight to turn towards it, nostrils flaring as his brows knit in distress. "For god's sake, Avery." He hissed, attention whipping back to the bespectacled man, "That isn't celebrating; that's wrong Avery, that's violent." Desperation, open and terrified, bloomed on his face beneath the anger as he curled his hands against the door, ignoring the sharp feeling of his nails rasping against the wood, "Avery they'll kill him. You know they will--they'll kill him." He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing thick and hard to breathe around and he could feel panic welling up behind it, pressing against his trachea and spreading out to dig its fingers into his collarbone until it ached and shared that ache into the already tense muscles of his shoulders and arms. The itching returned, crawling up the back of his neck like spider legs or the long, tipped claws of--he turned his head around with a sharp exhale, pulling away from Avery in a half-turn, but there was nothing behind them and for a moment he felt like dropping to the ground, his legs and arms shaking too much to support his weight. The echoing sound of people, cackling like coyotes in a pack, snapped him back to it and he turned again on Avery, shaking but with single-minded intent--he was going outside and he was doing it now.

Sammy frowned, finding solace in the goal he'd set for himself, and rolled his shoulders back, settling into an untrained but steady offensive stance. "People can't kill people." He barked, more firm in his belief than he was in anything else at the moment, "Not here--not with what's out there. We need each other." He took in a deep breath, settling himself slightly, and exhaled just as slowly, "Last chance--unlock the damn door or I'll do it my fucking self."

 

[neptune]

This was the exact opposite of civilized society and the continuous roar of the crowd only made things more surreal. Standing there, bright floodlights in his eyes, Eric resigned himself to yet another murder. He was no better than Howard, than any of the men who had thought to chase Jeremiah down like a dog, and the disgust that he felt for himself spoke volumes. Before Cascade Falls, Eric used to think of himself as a brave man, not easily shaken or pliable, but for the last eight years his cowardice had been under one mad man's control. Tonight would be no different, and it would never get any easier. Death was the real freedom, not the pipe-dream that he and the others had been reminiscing over.

"You have to know what's out there!" Jeremiah cried again, his tired voice breaking through the deafening blood-lust. Eric picked his head up, eyes moving through the crowd, away from Howard and to a familiar blond. The sympathy in her eyes only made him feel more dirty. "Why won't they let us go?"

That was the million dollar question, but Eric had to ignore it. "Shut up," he demanded, loud enough for the masses to hear as the men carrying Jeremiah reached the front of the crowd. With an unnecessary amount of roughness, Eric hauled the other man up onto the stage and used his free hand to steady him. Jeremiah didn't last long, his swaying from side to side eventually bringing him to his knees. "This is what happens to people who lie," he went on, and the crowd roused themselves into another shouting frenzy.

"We're happy here in Cascade Falls, aren't we?" Eric asked, forcing a smile that surely made him look like a maniac. "That's the rules; those are the rules and rules are made to be obeyed!" Beside him, Jeremiah attempted to stand, but Eric brought the handle of the machete down on the middle of the man's back. It looked worse than it was, only meant as a signal to stay down, but that didn't stop the crowd from cheering some more. They were so loud, and their voices carried in the distance for miles, into the darkness and into the unknown, away from the nightmare they fought so hard to protect.

"How do we deal with traitors?"

"Kill them!" yelled one of the children in the audience. He was young, maybe ten and in him, Eric saw the son he'd missed for nearly a decade. The well had already been poisoned.

Staying in the bar for the rest of the night was hardly a feasible plan, but Casey had even less confidence about venturing out into the town. She didn't want to watch the scene outside, didn't want to listen as people tripped over themselves to see such violence, but most of all, she couldn't stomach that it was Jeremiah under the knife. He deserved so much more; they all did. Worst of all, once he was dead, someone else would come to take his place soon enough and the cycle would start all over again. Finally, Casey understood the look of constant fear in everyone's eyes because this was more than privacy invasion and mind games, this was a punishment for existing.

"A walk to where?" Casey asked, frustrated as Riley's arm came around her. That single gesture was enough to keep her calm, or rather, prevent her from darting into the crowd and getting in front of the sheriff's knife.

The bar was too close to the action, and although they had nowhere to go, Casey just wanted to get away. Nodding, she agreed to leave, but wondered if the cemetery was still an option. It was hard to tell who might be at the mausoleum, or if the Underground had decided to make things look as inconspicuous as possible. As she and Riley passed through the doors and out onto the street, she took a glance at Eric, now in the middle of his speech and it was hard to believe he was the same man. One minute he wanted to get back to his fiance and son, and now he was seconds away from cutting Jeremiah's throat.

Turning back to Riley, Casey soon found herself wrapped in another hug. She tensed for a moment, but quickly let herself melt into him, arms around his shoulders and unwilling to let go. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to drown out the crowd, but as the seconds passed, it proved to be impossible. With part of her face still buried in Riley's shoulder, Casey spotted a certain doctor in the crowd.

"Lex!" she called out, pulling away from Riley enough to take his hand. "Lex, hey!" The other woman looked shaken, positively terrified as Casey set a hand on her shoulder. "Are you..." Another loud cheer erupted from the crowd and Eric had Jeremiah across the shoulders, held there as the sharp blade of his machete cut into his tender flesh.

Blood spilled down the man's front and over part of Eric's arm, soaking their clothes and the stage below. It was hard to tell if there was any remorse in those eyes, if he was only doing his job or if he got a kick out of it the way that weird nurse did. Either way, Casey thought she was going to be sick, and both of her hands squeezed at her friends. "Let's leave," she begged, tears in her eyes as a few people joined Eric on stage to string up the body.

"The fête continues until dawn!" Eric yelled, but Casey was already turned, ready to to be anywhere but there.

All along Main street, the parties began again. More alcohol was being passed around and people were kissing like it was New Year's as others danced around in their strange outfits. The atmosphere was very much a party, a time to celebrate and not think about all of that spilled blood, or how wrong they all were.

 

[Fallen Child]

Cindy watched as the elevator doors closed after realising that nobody was going into the elevator with her, it dose make sense since most of the residents in town who weren't stuck at this hospital were going to that stupid Fete...At least Cindy had a reason not to go to that creepy ceremony and hummed quietly as the elevator sent her up to the next floor of the hospital.


As the elevator doors opened yet again, Cindy quietly entered the dark halls and quietly called out. "Hello? Anyone still here?" She said...But got no response, she then began to head down the halls toward the main desk on the floor and went behind it to check on the list of patients that were on this floor that she was going to check. "Oh? There's not many people on this floor...This will be quick...I still cant believe that group went to the fete when there's patient's that needed to be checked." Cindy said after checking the list and finding out that they were six other patients on this floor. After doing so Cindy left the desk and went further down the halls to begin checking on the patients.

After checking on five of the patients who were doing fine, Cindy headed to the last occupied room on this floor to check on the sixth patient, Lisa Gregory, an elderly woman who was checked into this hospital last week following complaints of her heart being extremely sore. Cindy made it to Lisa's room and tapped on the door to see if she was awake...She probably is since the other five were...Hopefully.

"Miss Gregory, Its just a nurse here to check on how your doing..." Cindy said waiting for Lisa to answer...But strangely did not get an answer, maybe she's sleeping? "Umm...I heard at the front desk that you have problems with your heart...Could I do anything to help?" Cindy said waiting again for Lisa to answer...However this time she got a response...A response of heavy breathing...Soon after a large thump was heard in the room that made Cindy's eye's widened.



As Cindy opened the door she called out to Lisa again. "Miss Gregory?" She said as she entered the room...To find Lisa on the floor...Clutching her chest in pain, most likely suffering a heart attack. Cindy gasped and raced towards the patient, trying to help her. "Miss Gregory hang on don't panic things are going to be ok!" Cindy said trying to make Lisa lie still, she called out into the halls for anyone...Any staff at all who were good at these kinds of things to help her. "HELP, ANYONE THIS PATIENT IS SUFFERING A HEART ATTACK!" She shouted into the halls...But nobody replied...Because again, most of the staff went to the Fete...

"Shit...Ok Cindy, calm down...Remember the knowledge you have before you started this job...Now what do you do when someone has a heart attack!?" Cindy thought to herself in a panic while looking down towards Lisa, before looking towards the drawer by her bed. "Maybe there's medicine that she needs to take!" Cindy thought again she raced towards the drawer and opened it, she found a prescribe bottle of nitroglycerin pills and quickly took them out of the drawer. "Thank god." Cindy said to herself as she went back towards Lisa. "Miss Gregory you ne--However when Cindy checked back on Lisa her eyes widened again when Lisa became unconscious. "No...CPR...Remember your CPR training Cindy..." Cindy thought to herself again as she began to preform CPR on Lisa...

Soon enough Lisa awoke again, relieving Cindy as she barely saved her. she quickly grabbed the nitroglycerin and took out a few pills out of there to give to Lisa. "Ok Miss Gregory, I want you to calm down and take these." Cindy said giving Lisa the pills, Cindy quickly grabbed an untouched glass of water that was on top of the drawer by Lisa's bed to give to Lisa to swallow the pills.

After Lisa took the Nitroglycerin, Cindy happily helped her get back into bed. "There, I'm so sorry about that...Usually someone would help you, but some of our staff went to a fete...Don't worry, I'll make sure this incident dose not happen again." Cindy said to a now recovered Lisa as she walked towards the front of her bed and grabbed a food tray that was there. "A nurse or doctor will come check on you again soon, but for now you should eat the food on that tray to gain some strength." Cindy said placing the tray onto Lisa's lap, who nodded soon after. Cindy then began to leave the room, but not before wishing Lisa a good day. "Hope you'll recover soon Miss Gregory." Cindy said as she closed the door to Lisa's room and headed back to the desk on this floor.

Once Cindy sat at the desk, she placed her head on it, happy that the patients on this floor were fine now...Even if she almost lost one of them, but at least this day couldn't get anymore stressful...

"I hope everyone comes back soon...I just need to check the basement and I'm done for today...My first shift, it's almost finished..."


After finishing her shift when she checked the Basement, Cindy left the hospital and soon ended up in the Fete after party, celebrating the death of Jeremiah. "Oh god...Its a fete after party..." Cindy said looking around before heading near the police station to see if anyone she knew was there, she soon saw Charlie and waved at him.

"Hey Charlie...Anything interesting happened at this fete?"

 

[Rae]

Isadora didn't seem to hear her at all, off in her own world. Exasperated, Amy turned away from the woman and searched desperately in the crowd. The usual excitement she felt was all but gone...until Jeremiah was dragged onto the stage. She couldn't help it; the bloodlust in her eyes was evident to any person looking. She smirked, all thoughts forgotten about her own adopted daughter. The blood spilled reminded her of the own horrible deeds she had committed, and she only reveled in the feeling all over again.

A burning sensation came up from her fingertips, right hand twitching as if holding a weapon. Oh how she wished she could deal the final blow, no matter that Jeremiah had been a loyal and good employee, even almost a friend, for so long. As the final drop of live blood splattered across the stage, she hollered along with the rest, being sure to remain passive. Despite her immense pleasure, she didn't want anyone knowing how sadistic she really was. Where most people had become the way they were now due to practical insanity and an extreme sense of stagnation, she had become the monster she was long ago. When Eric announced that the fete would continue until dawn, the pleasure left her. She didn't care for getting drunk or high or partying. She only cared about the adrenaline rush gained from the hunt. Too bad she couldn't actually hunt; it would cause too many people to secretly hate her. Amy had to remain the likable, talkative coffee shop owner for reasons she couldn't even explain herself.

Turning from the stage, she looked once again for her daughter, finally remembering the probably terrified young girl once again. Though Amy wished that Lilith had been saved from the horror, she also hoped the girl had enjoyed it. If she had, then Amy would finally be able to form a less superficial bond with her. No matter how hard she tried, Lilith seemed to be one of the few people that sensed her true nature. Because of that, the two had always had an abnormally impersonal relationship for a mother and daughter. They still obviously loved each other, of course, but only appropriately so.

Looking around, Amy's eyes finally landed on the bright blonde hair of her daughter...with Sakamae. Her nose wrinkled in visible disgust. She hated that woman, always seeming to meddle (in her opinion, anyways). Forcing herself to adopt a cordial smile, she pushed her way through the crowd to reach them.

"Hello, Sakamae! Thank you so much for looking after my daughter. It was nearly impossible to find her in this crowd!" Her words were dipped in honey but not overly so; only her daughter seemed to catch the tiniest hint of animosity in her mother's words. But even then, Lilith couldn't be sure if Amy was just stressed from the events that just happened.

~*~​

Lilith jumped when Sakamae seemed to appear out of nowhere, reassuring her with dull words that had the opposite effect. "Doesn't happen very often? How does that make it any better?" she hissed, keeping her words loud enough for Sakamae to hear but low enough so no one else would. The pit in her stomach grew as she felt horror and disgust. She didn't even seem to hear the woman ask where her mother was. Instead, she turned back to Jeremiah, glassy-eyed but stubbornly refusing to let a tear fall. No one could really be sure why she was so stubborn about such a small thing.

"It's okay to look away." Lilith simply couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, her body wouldn't let her. Was it enjoying the spectacle? Was it simply too shocked to move even a muscle? She couldn't be sure. Without looking at Sakamae, she replied, "Why don't you look away then? It's just as horrifying to anyone who isn't completely and utterly insane." Again, she was careful that no one else could hear her words--at least not well enough to understand them.

And then it happened. One blow, then another...the deed was done. Blood was spilled in a crimson river, though Lilith was numb now. She couldn't seem to really register that Jeremiah, a man she had considered her friend in the short time she'd been there, lay dead on the floor of the stage. There would be no proper burial, nothing to honor him. Rather, she watched almost petrified as a group of people practically fought over the body, trying to string it up as some gruesome message to all.

The shouting was horribly loud, though the sound seemed muted somehow. As if breaking from a trance, Lilith turned away violently, hugging Sakamae without warning and allowing only a few precious tears to fall. She didn't want anyone to see, especially since she might die for it herself. This was more than cruel. This was the work of animals, and she suddenly couldn't see hardly anyone in the same light as she had before. Not even her mother. If it weren't for Sakamae, she would have run hard and fast from that place, going against all logic and reason to get the hell out of this pocket of Hell.

Then her mother appeared, and Lilith felt nothing but fear and agony. She loved Amy and was grateful for her willingness to take her in; she was the only mother she could remember. But now, knowing the woman more than anyone else even though she'd only been at Cascade Falls for a few months, she knew that the coffee shop owner had enjoyed every minute of this horrible spectacle.

Tensing as Amy spoke, Lilith sensed that there was something beneath her mother's cordial words. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, and she highly doubted that Sakamae would even notice it. But now, more than ever, she had no desire to return "home." Not with someone who had both willingly and easily allowed her own friend and employee be killed unjustly. Not just unjustly...inhumanely.

{@of Dirt}

 

[Stuffies12]

There was a roar of approval as the Sheriff sliced open the man's throat; the blood spilling out magnificently like a fountain as it dyed everything it touched in red. Unlike most of the crowd, Kenneth visibly flinched as the crowd screamed in merriment. He didn't know what exactly brought him here. He had this all planned out. He was supposed to go straight home and lock himself in, so why didn't he make that turn? Whatever the reason, he thought he would be prepared for what was to come. He distinctly remembered thinking that to himself as he followed the crowd. And it was a grossly erroneous decision on his part. It wasn't so much the act of killing, rather the attitude of the crowd that truly scared him. Whether the Sheriff enjoyed killing criminals or not, he understood the act itself as a necessity. It was something unavoidable. However, seeing the residents of this strange town act this way was disconcerting. The usual calm residents were rabid; the atmosphere was festive. It didn't register in anyone's minds that a man had just died in front of them.

Such musings were useless right now however, as he soon found himself caught in the middle of an otherwordly celebration. The crowd's tone had shifted once more from rabidly bloodthirsty to uninhibited celebration. He knew he wanted no part of this, yet going straight to his house would make him a target of the town the following morning. He would be subject to endless questionings by his neighbours and those who visited the library on why he had walked away from the festivities. It was clear that being alone was still just as dangerous now as it was during the hunt. He could go back to the library. He had the key and could lock himself in until everything had subsided, but he wouldn't know how long that could be. It could take the whole night, and while he was more than happy to stay overnight in the library, his body would not be for various reasons.

The answer was shown clearly all around him. The bar. There were people that undoubtedly have holed up, and the bar was one of the few places that offered a sort of distraction so people were guaranteed to be there. No one would complain either if someone were to see him leave. He would simply answer he was getting more drinks.

With the new plan set in mind, he squeezed his way past the throbbing crowd; his body accumulating the stench of sweat, alcohol, and blood as he struggled to slip pass the mass bodies. He could feel his skin rubbing against, and thinking of how dirty it was sent a shiver down his spine. But at last, he had managed to push his way to the outer perimeter of the crowd, with some help of his bat. Still, going alone right now with daylight almost out would be too dangerous. But it wasn't like he knew anyone to call out to for company. For all he knew, that quiet man who spent his days reading physics books in the corner of the library could be a closet psychopath who makes explosives for such an event. Or the well mannered girl could be getting wasted chugging down whisky bottles two at a time. Either way, it'd be impossible for Kenneth to call out to anyone he knew in this crowd anyway.

Slapping his cheeks, he shook the grogginess out from his head and headed back up north toward the bar; his hand gripping the bat, ready to swing at a threat if need be.

 

[Seeking Calliope]

The emotion in the crowd was palpable, and strong enough to pick an individual up and carry them away, like a current in a sea. Kiera allowed the energy to sweep around and then engulf her. Like a bad trip, she endured it. Deep breaths kept her afloat and prevented her from being lost to the chaos.

Tunnel-vision was locked upon Eric's face. Jeremiah, and even the machete, was all but forgotten. Even so, she turned her gaze at the last moment. Despite that and the roar for blood, which erupted all around her, the sickening thunk of metal meeting flesh and bone reached her ears. The emotions, which instantly welled within her, rivaled those that swelled around her, and immediately became more threatening.

It was an odd occurrence, the public executions in Cascade Falls and the celebration which always followed, and defied any remnant of logical thinking, left over from the outside world. Not all were merry, but those who dared to show remorse, compassion, or grief were quickly washed away and submerged by revelry. Strong hands grabbed her waist and spun her around, and, before she could react, lips were roughly pressed against her own with enough impact to bruise. Her turquoise masquerade mask pushed painfully against her face and obscured her vision. Then, as quickly as it happened, she was released and her assailant disappeared into the sea of people. Kiera forced her way to the edge of the mob, and ignored the hands which liberally grabbed and groped at her. It would be nothing she couldn't forget with enough liquor – much like this entire night.

Minutes later, she emerged from the depths of the horde and quickly picked her way to the side of the back of the stage. She did her best to remain unaware of the happenings upon the stage as she avoided the craziness that was currently spreading like a virus among the populace. She swiped a dark brown glass bottle of unknown contents from an unsuspecting reveler and upended the liquid into her mouth. The burn momentarily overwhelmed her senses, and she welcomed the diversion to the point of taking another large swallow.

There was only one person she wanted to see at that moment; a man who both made her feel safe and wanted, despite the blood on his hands. She hated being alone, and that feeling was doubled during a Fete. A superficial smile, which held warmth only for him, was flashed as she made her presence known to the Sheriff, and then she subtly faded from the crowd and the sight of any onlookers, except of course, the ever-present cameras.

 

[QueenOfHearts]

Avery flinched back under Sammy's scrutiny, his hand hover protectively over the key, he fully aware of just what sort of position he had put himself in. He hated doing this, he honest to goodness did. It was less the thought of the possible bodily harm that might come upon him from trapping himself in a small room with the testy younger man. While that was something that unnerved him just a tad. No, it was the fact he knew how upsetting this might be for him. Sammy more often than not seemed to the toy-maker like a poor, shell shocked dog after the Fourth of July. Avery pushed himself further back against the door, jaw set as he looked up to meet his gaze. "Sam, you need calm down." He breathed, trying to seem as calm as he sounded. No one needed to know that he could feel a cold sweat make the back of his button up shirt cling to his back.

No one more then Avery was surprised when he found himself flinching back when the sudden wham of someone he once thought to be a gentle giant, the teeth of his keys biting into the palm of his hand as he peered up at him. The fact he had jerked back was only made clear to him when he felt his back slam hard into the door when he jumped. Well, good thing he didn't take pride in himself for being the most macho of guys, or that might have bruised his pride a little bit. He swallowed dryly as he set his jaw. Meeting his gaze, though what he found, meant nothing good. Nothing he was going to do was going to stop him and he had little doubt he could at this point. Though it didn't mean he wasn't at least going to try to do something. He honestly had no idea why he was trying so hard to save someone who didn't want his help, but, this giant, nervous nice guy had him feeling protective on more than one occasion.

He had expected for him to push him, possibly hit him even. It wasn't like he had the best balance on the planet. A rather nice scar on his calf told that story pretty bluntly. That and people really should not listen to Avery when the idea starts with 'ey sugar! 'old my beer. That phrase rarely went anywhere too nice. Sort of funny? Yes. Smart? No. Though what happen next the blond wasn't ready for.

Avery couldn't hold his gaze any longer. Instead of yelling at him, insulting him, he did the one thing he couldn't handle. Harsh reality. Morality. It was easy to pretend spending hour, after hour in his brightly colored store that could put a circus to shame. Happy smiles of children and the excited look on a parents face when they know they just got the perfect toy for their boy or girl. The sound of foot traffic, the sound of those tiny hammers hitting the bumped tin wheel that sat in music boxes, jack in a box, even the sound of those little wound up trains running around the track. It was easy to pretend that was his little world. And when that didn't work? There was nothing half a bottle couldn't fix. Sure made it a hell of a lot easier to go to sleep. So when Sammy threw the reality of how truly, and horribly inhuman this whole celebration was? It brought that stone back to settle in his stomach as a chill fell over him. He wasn't going to win this, no matter what he said, what he did. The bigger man was going to get his way. It was that thought that had him pulling his hand out of his pocket. Knuckles white as he held the key so tightly in his fist. Any tighter and his already worn and calloused hands might have gotten a new scar to add to the many.

"Fine….fuck it. You wanna go out in that so bad?" He barked, meeting his gaze with a glare that held anything but anger. Fear, guilt and frustration, yes. Though he couldn't bring himself to be angry. He couldn't and a part of him honestly hated that. The same part that wanted to hogtie his friend and stuff him in closet until this was all over. That side that has made him do far worse in the name of keeping someone heathy and safe. He did his best to ignore it along with that impulse to grab him by the shoulder. "People die doin' this bull shit, ya wanna be the next one? Go ahead. I don't give-ah damn." He growled looking away. He didn't mean it, anyone who did know a thing about the Toy-maker was he cared too damn much about everything. He placed his hand on the low shelf that he had secured next to the door. He kept all sort of toys that people had brought in to get fixed. He had even made a silly little sign that said 'fix-em uppers' above it in barely legible writing and in obnoxiously bright orange paint. Though to him right now it didn't look all that bright as he left the key on the bottom shelf before he walked away.

He tried to ignore the impulse to shake some sense into him, to stop him. What good would it do? He might have finally met someone more stubborn then him. And that was saying something. He simply untied the back of his apron as he stood before the work bench. He wasn't going to watch him leave. He knew if he did he'd be right at his heels trying to talk some damned sense into him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Lex felt her stomach flip and knot when a voice cut through the dull roar of the crowd. To say she jumped would have been an understatement. Every muscle tensed and she had honestly stopped breathing for a moment or two. The brunet snapped around digging her fingers into the sleeves of her white sweater. Looking for some sort of anchor as she felt what little blood that might have been in her face completely bleed away as large, bright eyes looked for the source of who had called her. That fear soon bled into unhindered surprise flashed through her when he eyes fell on the blond she had been thinking of only moments before. She had been so concerned for her friend, it was a relief to see her with Riley. She did her best to not cringe when her friend place her hand on her shoulder. She reminding herself it was just Casey.

"Casey!" She sighed genuinely, placing a hand on the arm she had reached out to her. Making sure she was really there she supposed. As idiotic and illogical it might have sounded with the girl right there. Though before she could even attempt to ask about her or anything at all the cheer that broke through the crowed shook through her and she honestly whished, with every fiber of her being, she hadn't let herself snap her head around to look.

Her heart dropped into her stomach like a stone as blood spilt from the open wound. It wasn't the first time she saw blood. She was a surgeon for goodness sake! She has been elbow deep in another human being more than once in her life. This though? This was something else altogether. No, as she watched The Sheriff. As she watched Eric pull that machete across Jeramiah's throat. A man she admired, respect, cut down by the other she couldn't help but respect his drive, his determination, and that she had found herself developing feelings for. She knew it was an ill-advised notion. Something she had tried to tell Casey on more than one occasion to talk her out of it, to tell her why it was a bad idea. That it wasn't real and she just ate bad chicken or something of the sort. Not that she developed feelings for a man who had two different faces. Who now stood soaked in a friend's blood with an expression that gave away nothing. She knew him, at least she believed she did. She had seen his earnestness in those secret meetings, in the security of the secrecy that they and the other members had in the shadows of their secret meetings. Though in that moment? She couldn't look at him. No matter how she felt. Especially as that irrational part of her she tried to ignore kept whispering to her over and over. This isn't him. This isn't him.

Lexia found she couldn't even look at him as her head snapped around quick enough that her pony tail slapped hard enough into her cheek that it left a slight stinging sensation as she felt a burn in the back of her throat. She snapping a hand over her mouth as she fought the urge to be sick as her heart swam in her gut. She shivered in place as she weakly squeezed her friend's hand back, as she looked at the ground. The only sound she could make once she was sure that she wouldn't have a rather undignified exiting of her meager excuse for a dinner all over the sidewalk. "I….I need a drink." She choked out unable to bring herself to look at anyone as the coppery smell of blood and the strong, sharp scent of alcohol mingled in the night air. Only moments before it had smelled of the trees, the crisp sharpness of fall. Now it smelt of death, and the macabre celebration that followed. She needed that moment of comfort in this darkness, even if it meant she had to drink until she couldn't remember her own name to find it. It wouldn't have been the first time.

 

[Jackalope]

( I'll put a picture in later; working on a tight schedule atm)
Sammy's eyes softened, the tense lines of his muscles softened, and his expression did the same. He backed away as Avery gave in, letting the other pass with his eyes locked on the key now resting on the shelf. He took it, the flash of misery in Avery's expression resonating in his mind's eye even as his fingers wrapped around the skin-warmed metal, curling tightly and defensively around it. The nomad took a step forward, eyes roving to the keyhole, but he paused before he could take another, hesitation buzzing against his flesh. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing in thought and before his gut and his history and his broken heart could stop him he turned on his heels and stomped to Avery, long arms wrapping around the other man's shoulders from behind. Sammy dragged him, willingly or not, into the tightest hug he had given in a long, long time and even as he buried his face in the blonde's hair and smelt the comforting, wisping smell of wood and tin, of paint and basic shampoo that mixed together to smell so soundly, so securely of Avery that Sammy could have caught a breath of it on the wind and track him forever. Even as he inhaled that smell, deeply and long, his heart ached with an unpleasant beat, all too scarred over the last time he'd had someone he cared for close and painfully aware of their last meeting...fingers on shoulders, tangled in hair, a brisk kiss and a blinding smile, a "see you soon" and if he could give anything, anything in the world he'd pull that slim--too slim, so small and petite and full of fire and exhaustion--body against his and just feel that familiar heart beat against his ribs.

Avery was much larger than the name Sampson bore on a tarnished chain around his neck, much broader and much healthier, and he didn't share the same heart-crunching affection for him, though there was a familiar excitement in his chest when the toymaker was near, but Sammy hugged him for the both of them anyways, shifting around him to lean in and brush his lips against the man's cheekbone. "I'm notoriously hard to kill." He muttered honestly, meeting Avery's eyes for only a moment before he repeated the kiss a bit lower on the cheek and turned away, striding purposefully out of the room and into the front of the toystore. The key was placed gently on the counter as he passed it, hard eyes locked on the bubbling excitement of the crowd already in place around the condemned man and the sheriff. His jaw tightened, teeth creaking in his mouth, as he shoved the door out and began to wade through the throngs of people, dodging when he could and outright shoving when he needed. He wasn't trying to be subtle, moving as quickly as he could and very nearly bowling over a few who were turning away from the scene, but before he was close enough to see properly he could already tell he was too late and he paused in step, closing his eyes for the man who he wasn't sure he'd even met.

The smell was unmistakable. It was deep, pungent and too rich. Even from a distance the heat of fresh blood was practically a smell of itself, and Sammy grit his teeth as the scent rolled over him, reminding him too keenly of the too-many times he'd smelled it boiling and burning with pain on his own skin. It only tasted like copper in small amounts, he thought, the concept rolling over him unbidden and making him sway in step as he moved forwards. He forced back bile in a half-hearted swallow and dimly he found he was grateful that it wasn't a gut cut. As his stomach roiled uncomfortably, he wasn't sure that the sick, rotting stench of opened intestines would have left him with his lunch in place. He swallowed again, mouth watering as the idea made his lunch reconsider its locale, and he scrunched his nose as though to separate himself from the smell and took one step, then another, then a third until he was moving properly forward now and he could risk a peek, opening one eye than the other as he maneuvered through the thinning crowd.

He could see Eric clearly now, and poor Jeremiah too. The site of the dark--heart's blood; healthy blood; fatal blood; unlucky and bad blood--liquid staining the dead man's front wasn't nearly as bad as the smell and Sammy bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snarling as he hastened his pace, his gaze moving from Jeremiah to lock on Eric. His brows dipped, nose scrunching in blind hatred as he beelined towards the sheriff, his body language subtly shifting into something aggressive and dangerous. Eyes never leaving the sheriff he began to make his way around the platform he'd perched on, intent on catching him as he exited or, if the man was smart enough to realize what was coming and took off, following him to the damn ends of the earth.
Maybe he'd even get lucky enough to find out what bastard pulled the dog's strings before he broke the mutt's neck.

 

[of Dirt]

"It doesn't," Sakamae conceded solemnly to the distraught teen. "But it's all we've got right now." It was nearly impossible to console somebody witnessing their first fete. She remembered her first and how her initial defiance nearly got her into trouble. She had nobody to talk or express herself to. Despite providing more to Lilith than what was available to her in the past, she knew it wasn't enough and wished she could do more.

Why didn't she look away? She heard her words as she looked to the stage, Eric and Jeremiah. "They're both friends of mine. I know you don't see him the way I do, but the sheriff is a good man with an unfortunate job. I won't be able to bring myself to tell him at the end of the day that things will get better or that everything will be okay if I don't know the extent of what he's done. And if I bury my head in the sand to Jeremiah's fate…," she began, cutting herself off as Eric brought the blunt end of the machete down on Jeremiah's back. Her breathing became slightly uneven and, before long, Eric slayed the poor man to the sick delight of those at the front row.

She flinched as Lilith unexpectedly embraced her, but she nonetheless swiftly reciprocated. "…then I won't know how badly he needs to be avenged," she finally finished her sentence, so softly that she wasn't sure if Lilith even heard it and wasn't sure if she wanted her to hear. Sakamae's wanting to do more tempted her to say that a fete will never happen again and that she'll make sure of it, but that was a promise she couldn't be sure about keeping. As much as she knew that Lilith would've liked to do whatever she could to change how things operated in the town, she couldn't allow her to put her life on the line. At least not until she was ready and that her mother supported it.

At the sound of Amy's voice, Sakamae gently pulled away from Lilith and did her best to return the smile she was given. "Always a pleasure," she replied. She was genuinely relieved that she found them. She hoped Lilith would be a little more at ease now that her mother was there. "I'm sorry about Jeremiah," she added, noting a curious lack of remorse for her own employee's gruesome death, but easily dismissing it as being glad that she had been reunited with her daughter. She glanced at Lilith, who seemed unchanged despite Amy's presence. "Let's find a place to sit down and get comfortable," she suggested, hoping Amy would oblige.

Riley's eyebrows rose in surprise as Casey suddenly called out her friend's name and grabbed his hand to meet up with her. The doctor, Lexia, looked terrified and he couldn't manage a hello. He looked to the roaring crowd, to Jeremiah's death, and felt like something inside him snapped and began to leak. With tightly gritted teeth, his head slowly fell to stare at the dirt momentarily. All the noise sounded fuzzy and everything felt like it was shaking. Memories of his past rushed to greet him (all of the worst ones) as he fought to keep his body from shaking, but it only made it worse. He paced around slowly to keep himself moving.

"Lex," he mumbled as he pulled the rum-filled flask out of his back pocket and handed it to her. "I don't want it," he explained, words he probably never used in relation to alcohol, but they were ones he meant. It was fun and games every other day, but when reality strikes you hard in the mouth, it's too late to ignore the pain. Listening to the cheering around them made him hate them all, even if most of them only did it because they thought it was required of them. The town may have had strict rules and expectations for its residents, but he once figured that they would all agree that a fete was a line that couldn't be crossed and he hated all those that celebrated that it wasn't that line. He hated Eric for being the figure head and all the lame excuses he's heard about his so-called difficult job. He hated his obedient secretary and the nasty looks he always got from her. He hated seeing his friends in pain and he hated himself for being able to do so little.

"Okay. Let's go," he replied simply and nearly devoid of any emotion to Casey's request, though he didn't know where they would go. He began walking in the opposite direction of the stage as latecomers kept passing them by to get closer to the action. Every single one of them was met with a grimace from Riley, who actively searched for any reason to find himself throwing his fists at any one of them for the hell of it. A wrong look or anything questioning why they were going the wrong way would have been more than enough, but they were too caught up in themselves to bother and he hated them for that too. He hoped that as things got quieter the further they walked, the more likely they'll have the opportunity to relax.

 

[neptune]

Thinking that Jeremiah was going to make it out of the tunnels beneath the cemetery was foolish to begin with, but his death had bought the entire group some extra time. On the off-chance that his word was still trusted by the others, killing a suspected insurgent in front of Howard would surely be enough to get the old man to back off and retreat to his home within the mountain. The Underground was the only real chance for survival in town, the last thing that so many were now relying on, and after yet another fête, it was important that the members meet. Unfortunately, that task was easier said than done.

As a few men joined him on the stage to string up Jeremiah's limp and mangled body, a message to the rest of the town as they blissfully partied the night away, Eric's eyes searched the crowd. He found Kiera first, dressed impeccably for something so grotesque. There was a part of him that wanted to meet with her, to confide in someone who understood that he wasn't a monster just because of the job—but there were other things that needed tending to. Pulling his gaze away from her, his eyes quickly fell to Sakamae, her arms full of a young girl and surrounded by Amy, the woman who owned the coffee shop. Kenneth was in the mix as well while Howard continued to mingle, shark-like among the school of fish that had become the town. Further down Main, Eric thought he saw the back of a familiar head; Lex was with Casey and Riley and he hoped the two girls wouldn't go far.

Jumping down from the stage, the crowd tightened around him, full of people who were ready to stupidly pat him on the back and shell out their fake money to buy him a beer or two. Eric shook his head at them, graciously declining the shouted offers as men and women laughed around him and continued to cheer for the murder they had just witnessed. It was sickening, something that made the bloodied fabric of his shirt that much colder. "I'll be around," he assured one man, the butcher with his reddened face and sleepy eyes. "Don't worry."

Maintaining a presence on the street was important after dolling out misplaced justice, but Eric was already working on a plan to get to the mausoleum. He took a few steps deeper into the crowd, watching as people parted for him. Toward the back, the pack dispersed more quickly, widening rather rapidly as someone stormed toward him. Squinting, it took Eric a moment to realize who was advancing on him. "Sammy?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't managed to get a proper look at the younger man since his return to town, but there was an anger those eyes that was unlike anything Eric had ever seen before.

"Sam," he said, tone just a little more firm as he put a defensive hand.

It was hard to imagine anyone in their group ever trusting Eric again. Although Casey hadn't been part of the secret society for very long, the idea of letting the sheriff into the town's only safe space hadn't ever sat right with her. In all of the chaos, the only thing Casey really wanted was guidance, a signal from Lex, or Riley, or even the universe, that told her what to do next, or where to do. The streets were flooded with confusion, a lack of morals that surprised even her, and the celebrations were only going to continue until the sun came up. It was the wrong way to honor Jeremiah, a bad excuse to shed the oppressive rules of the town. Casey knew that everyone had to blow off steam, but she didn't want to take part.

"Where should we go?" she asked, walking along with the other two, but mostly looking to Lex. The young doctor still looked a little panicked, which only made Casey more nervous. Riley wasn't part of the Underground, and Casey didn't know whether or not he had any interest. They couldn't just take him to the cemetery, though, not when his tracker was still firmly planted in his leg. Admittance was a process, but the thought of leaving him on his own, shaken up and without a friend, was unthinkable.

Main Street looped around the town, making the hellish place one giant circle, a literal vicious cycle that no one could escape from. As the crowd thinned, welcoming stragglers, a voice called out behind them and Casey stopped in her tracks. There was an unmistakable coldness to Stuart Harmon, the strange doctor that Eric claimed to have more information about, but everyone in town had heard his voice—he was as constant as the surveillance. Letting go of Riley and Lex, Casey turned to face the man, seeing his rigid posture and twisted smile.

"Where are you three off to?" the psychiatrist asked, rocking back on his heels before taking a few steps closer. "The party's back that way."

"Just," Casey paused, shaking her head as she forced a friendly smile onto her face, "taking a walk. It's a beautiful night."

His smile somehow widened, opening into a laugh. "Every night is a beautiful night in paradise, Casey," Stuart replied, the tension between the four mounting. "But, I think you'll find that you can take a walk any time, and the bar needs its bartender, correct?" He quirked an eyebrow in Riley's direction and then turned his hawk-like eyes to Lexia. "And you're indispensable—how many people hurt themselves during these celebrations? Careful hands are required for stitches."

Whatever interest the doctor had in getting them back to the town's center was unknown, but Casey didn't like it. She looked to her friends, unsure of what they wanted to do. Stuart wasn't the sheriff, he couldn't order them to do much of anything, but defying him hinted at punishment. One murder was enough for the night.

"Come," Stuart urged, beckoning them over with a wave of his hand. "I'd like a beer and these people aren't going to wait all night."

Clearing her throat, Casey nodded and took a careful step forward. They had all night to get to the cemetery, and hiding in plain sight was their safest bet for now. "I think Kiera and I need to finish our game anyway," she said, a weak chuckle to her voice.

 

[Fallen Child]

Cindy sighed when Charlie did not answer. "Uhh...I'll just leave." She said as she quickly turned upon seeing the stage, a group consisting of Eric and few others pulling the body that was once Jeremiah Allen off from the stage and getting a few pat's on the back for probably handling another fete, Cindy just shook her head and thought to herself. "God...This is Disgusting..." Was what she thought as she looked around for a few others that she could talk to.

That was when she noticed Lexia, Casey, Riley and Stuart.



They were pretty close and more active, so Cindy thought she should talk to them instead since it looks like they were going to the bar, quickly she walked past the crowd and managed to get to the four. "Mind if I tag along?" Cindy said to the four before waving at Lexia, she looked back at the fete and sighed. "These Fete's get worse everytime." Cindy said as she shook her head before turning back to the four. "I think I need a drink after a rough first night at work." Cindy said as she sighed before speaking again.

"Oh, sorry If I suddenly butted in."

 

[Jackalope]

Sammy had never been particularly close to the Sheriff. He'd known the man before he had been sent beyond the fence, six months worth of supplies and a machete on his back, but for the life of him he couldn't remember much about him beyond thinking he was of the "well enough sort". He didn't even remember if the man had been sheriff in the short time he'd been in Cascade Falls originally, but some little bell and a different face in his head told him that maybe...probably...not.

Since he'd come back he'd only seen the man from a distance. He'd been reminded of the Sheriff's face when he'd first returned to Cascade, dirty and bloodied and still unwilling to be completely disarmed as the Doctor sat him down for an extended debrief, all serious and cold with icy compliments that made the hairs on the back of the nomad's neck stand up, his nerves buzzing with an uncomfortable energy he shook off with a nervous grin, reluctantly removing makeshift weapons and tools under the man's harsh smile and allowing himself to be lead back into the town. He'd been given a list of the people to whom he owed his obedience, a short piece of paper with a handful of pictures clipped to it, as well as a written file of the rules of the city, and while he'd been infinitely curious before, infinitely nosy and fascinated and interested, he didn't mind them so much now and merely tucked them away, doing his very best not to leave stains on the paper before he slunk off to the first true shower he'd had in many, many, many months.

Unlike his first arrival to Cascade, he did not visit the fence.

He was all too aware of what was left for him beyond it.

The nomad's approach slowed as he drew close to the Sheriff, and despite the angry pounding in his head and the buzzing need to stop it from ever happening again, he paused to look at the man for a long beat, his lips curled into a distant frown. For some reason he looked different than he expected. He couldn't put a finger on what struck him as unusual, but he supposed it didn't matter. "We are going to talk." He said at last, leaning into movement again as he strode closer, a strong arm snagging the Sheriff's shoulder to turn him, then his arm to drag him along as Sammy steered them towards a break in the town's architecture, into one of the alleys between buildings where there was at least a bit more privacy. As soon as the shadows cast by the buildings hit him, Sammy shifted his weight and moved to twist Eric towards one of the walls, following him quickly and shortly with a strong punch to the jaw.

He didn't wait for Eric's reaction as he shoved into the other man's space, roughly pinning him to the brick with a sharp glare. "I'd call you fucking crazy, cutting a man's throat on a fucking pedestal, but I'm pretty sure that label goes to the freaks cheering you on." He leaned in, his forearm moving to brace against the other's throat--not enough to cut off air, but certainly to intimidate and insinuate that he wouldn't be disinclined to press down--and bared his teeth in a snarl. "Traitor." He spat, the word dripping with vehemence from his throat, "You called him a traitor. You pieces of shit are the damn traitors--you're supposed to be protecting these people from what's out there! How the hell is scaring them to death, encouraging fucking murderers, or outright killing them keeping them safe?!"

He pulled his arm back, away from Eric's throat, and made to slam his fist to the other, hitting the brick instead. His arm trembled as he swallowed, thickly. "You talk to me now, Sheriff. I went out there for you jackasses. I did my job. You bastards owe me some fucking explanation."

 

[of Dirt]

Riley's nails dug into his skin as he clenched his hands as hard as he possibly could. Stuart's nosey questions made him want to lose it. They were hardly on good terms to begin with. Riley seldom opened up to anyone, let alone a doctor that was forced upon him by the town. If he wasn't being sarcastic then he was probably lying to the doctor during their sessions, which he felt didn't go over his head. Still, the doctor was one of those from the mountain. Living away from the town communicated to him that they had something over the rest of them. In the back of his mind, he held the idea that the truth behind their situation lied in the mountain, but it didn't mean much to him. It just meant he needed to try and hold his tongue to an extent.

"We're having our own party over here, doc. Damn. Not all of us are such conformists," he replied condescendingly. 'Every night is a beautiful night in paradise,' the doctor said to Casey, and Riley got the chills. What an absolute creep, he thought with a furrowed brow. It was inconceivable to him that the doctor truly believed those words or that he thought the three of them would believe it either, yet the words came forth. Riley felt like they were talking to somebody's puppet.

"The bar is well-staffed, thanks," he replied, which ordinarily would have been true, but he knew during a fete traffic would be through the roof. Peter was no doubt wondering where the bar tender was, but he couldn't find it in him to care. It's not like there's a competing bar. It's not like the currency everybody exchanged meant anything. He genuinely couldn't think of anything his boss could say that wouldn't ring false. Nobody had any real power anywhere in the town. It was just a big game of doll house. "You seem awfully concerned. This is supposed to be a time for celebration. Relax."

No matter what he said the doctor insisted that they return to their duties and it made his blood boil. "Tch. Listen doc, we've got…," Riley's outburst was cut short when Casey spoke of her finishing her game with Kiera. Stuart spooked it more than it should have, he thought, recalling that just a few minutes ago she wanted nothing to do with the celebration. "You'd best start beating her too," he replied, his attitude seemingly changing in an instant. "I was betting on you with my co-worker," he continued as he began to make his way back to the bar with the rest of them. "Hey, Lex, don't forget to give me my flask back when you're done. It's almost as indispensible as you," he said with a smirk.

"We were just headed back to the bar. Stuart is a party animal; who would've thought?" Riley said to Cindy as she approached them.

"He's just a quack," he whispered into Casey's ear once they walked past Stuart. "We can go wherever."

 

[QueenOfHearts]

Avery had put himself to work finishing up a little clean up. There sadly wasn't a whole lot left, Sammy had been pretty through, and what was left was just a few carving tools. Though the stubborn nitwit that he was? He tried to make it look like he was thoroughly absorbed in this task as his friend went for the keys to let himself out. He couldn't do anything about it, no matter what he told himself. He couldn't very well hogtie a grown man and throw him in the closet until he came around to his way of thinking. He was pretty sure the taller man could knock him on his ass before he managed that. That wasn't always the best answer anyhow, sure it could be the simpler one, but not everyone is that easy to convince. Took someone a lot more malleable for a something like that to take hold in less than a few days, and a lot less time as well. It was a hell of a mess. Not that he would know of course. No, how would a sweet little toy maker know such a thing?

He took a deep breath as he pushed back that impulse, those manic little claws that liked to poke at what sanity he held on to, and pretended to busy himself with tucking each tool away so carefully he might as well been putting away fine china. It would be easier to watch someone marching off to get himself killed, if he wasn't looking at them. He fully expected Sammy to just pick up the keys and walk off to his early grave, he was convinced there was little else he could do at this point that wouldn't end with him getting himself killed. There was only one way to interrupt a celebration and there was only one man who would be openly at the center of that chaos. Was he always this big of a pessimist?

He was waiting for that click of the key turning the lock, of a closing door, though what he was met with threw the toymaker for a loop. He honestly hadn't a clue what was happening for the first few seconds, a carving tool falling from his grasp to land with a clatter in his surprise as he felt two long arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him back into something warm and solid. It's took him a second to realize he was being hugged. It had been a long while since he'd been held that tight. For a moment the mostly gentle toymaker hadn't been sure how to react. It took the other second to realize it was Sammy that held him so tight. Part of him wanted to be spiteful, that little part that wanted to act like he couldn't care less if this giant embodiment of a shell shock Labrador went off and got himself shot like old yell'er, wanted to pull away and just go back to putting away every tiny thing so he didn't have to look at him when he left. Fight that impulse that made him want to knock some sense into that pretty little head of his. Though that part, the one that couldn't help but find that smile contagious, fussed over the fact if the big dork was actually eating and looking after himself. The side that felt better if the man that caused him more worry then he should have, was right there helping him with some chore or project, trying to help him not be idle. Well that part needless to say in that little battle of wills, put that old grouch in him, in the proverbial closet.

Avery didn't fight it as he heaved out a sigh that sound more tired and heavy then it should have, he leaned back into him for that split second, still doing his best to glower at the wall in front of him. Though at this point it was more worried pouting. Was it juvenile? Yes it was, but then again when had Avery ever claimed he was always going to act like the adult he was? He was content to pretend glowering at the wall. A calloused, scared hand, weathered and harden from years of good, long honest hard work that would have made some men give up long before. Gently pressed against one of the arms that held him so tight. He had himself convinced to try and talk some sense into him one more time, one more time so he didn't walk into the hornets nest that was this town. Like a big kid with a stick and just wanted to know what that large mass of mud was doing on a tree. Though before he could utter an argument he froze, he hadn't been expecting his face to be that close, so when he felt his lips brush against his skin, he froze, like a deer caught in the head lights as he peered over at the younger man, as he felt his throat tighten. His argument catching in his throat and refusing to come to his lips as Sammy reassured him he didn't die that easily. It took a hard swallow before he looked away from those big brown eyes, a red hue dusting his face despite his inner protest. Just caught off guard he told himself. "You fuckin' better be…" He growled in response, leaning his hands on the table once he let him go.

He was resolved in not watching him leave, even as he heard the door click behind him and strong, assured steps walk away. It wasn't until he was sure that Sammy was gone did he reach out and pick up a small jar of yellow paint, before tossing it against the far wall, the satisfying sound of shattering glass reaching his ears as the slosh of paint slid down the walls, already clinging to the wood in splotchy bursts of yellow as Avery leaned his elbows on the table to try and swallow that frustration, that fleck of anger of not getting his way, or not doing everything he knew he could do to stop him. Letting someone have their own way? Well he wasn't right sure what to do about that. It took a good bit of internal battle before his breathing evened and didn't quite have the urge to smash every jar on his shelves. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest way of dealing with himself, those dark thoughts that came up with ways to help people, protect people, in ways he in his calmest state of mind knew wasn't okay. It was a long moment before Avery moved again grabbing some work rags out of a large can he kept on the edge of his table and grabbing a couple of the stained scraps of fabric to toss on the pile of glass and paint. He honestly couldn't be bothered and really didn't have the ump to even attempt to tackle that mess. He could clean it up tomorrow. It wasn't like he didn't need to put a new coat of paint on the walls after all. At least he didn't put another hole in it.

It was with an odd, mechanical calmness did he wipe his hands slowly, and deliberately on the front of his apron, untying it carefully before he placed it neatly on the bench, folding it carefully. Taking a deep steadying breath, he turned on his heels and moved on, going to retrieve his keys and lock up like he did every night, plastering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as people waved, and greeted the kindly toy maker as he locked up his shop, receiving the teasing remark about how the workaholic missed out on another good hunt. All he could say was a "Aw shucks." and laugh. A man needed to swallow his demons, Avery? It was going to take him a little longer then he would like. Though it was there, locked behind a strained will. He wasn't that man anymore, that's what he told himself at least. He wasn't that Avery anymore

Lexia missed the days long past when she could look at blood and honest to god not really feel much over it. It was something that supported her becoming a doctor, a surgeon. Blood never bothered her, but this? She could remember a day where the smell of blood meant something exciting, meaning she would get to watch something she wanted to dedicate her life to, something she strived at. That someone was going to be helped and by hand so steady and skilled she could look on with excitement and envy. Now blood hardly had the same meaning. Right now, it made her ill. Ill that these people are taking a whole different sort of pleasure in a good, kind man being slaughtered like a pig, prime for a succulent dinner. No, right now these weren't people, human beings, they were animals. It was Lord of the Flies.

The young doctor was never more grateful for Riley then she was the moment the flask came into her line of sight. He might have just found a place in her temporary sainthood as the stench of fresh blood mixed on the evening air. She doing her best to not cringe away when people would scurry by, catch in the blood edged claws of the lure of blood lust. "Mille fois merci." She breathed, a little of the tension that was keeping her spine ram rod straight despite her every wish to hide and disappear.

One too many etiquette classes from dear grandmother might have stuck a little tighter then she could have imagined it would. The dark haired woman could practically feel the muscles in her shoulder slacken a bit as she opened the flask with a shaky hand, taking a sip, more cautious of which alcohol was in it than anything. You really couldn't go in expecting rum and end up taking a large swallow of vodka. No one needed to see her choke. She trusted the bartender enough, that was more then she could say for most members of their 'delightful' community. She wouldn't be lying if she said she trusted him nearly as much as she trusted Casey. That was something in itself, to be told, she had put her life in Casey's hands when she had brought her into the underground. She trusted her with a secret that could get her killed.

She looked back over at Casey as she let her lead her away from the chaos. She let herself tense back up the moment that question came from her friend, realizing a bulk of it was directed at her. The underground would need to meet tonight, that was for sure, especially when it was one of their own on the chopping block that night. It was going to be salt on the wound to not be greeted by that kind smile, it made that a cemetery a little less cold. Lex did her best to not glance over to the bartender, as she bit the inside of her lip for a second in thought, there was going to be a meeting, but looking around, it won't be easy for a good number of the members to slip out of the celebration unnoticed, at least not until it was in full swing. The town would find themselves delightfully busy, be it finding morbid fascination of tossing stones and then some at a corpse, or finding distraction and celebration and drink and other cardinal delights. Half the town was going to be hungover come tomorrow afternoon. The other half? Morning people.

Lex had been about to speak when her words died on her tongue, Stuart's voice cutting through the dull roar of the crowd to intrude on the three's peace, or at least skeletal semblance of it. The doctor couldn't stop herself from taking large swig from the flask, feeling that familiar burn tickle the back of her throat as she swallowed down a little liquid courage, before she sealed back up the flask as she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. It was still better then Norma, she kept reminding herself as that almost predatory smile had her heart in her throat. She let her hand on her mouth linger for a moment longer to hide the cringe. He honestly for a split second there reminded her of one of those creepy old doctors that loved to prowl around the interns and nurses. Though that might have just been she's overheard that lead into some horrible pick-up lines before. That didn't matter though, no, what made her question was just how he realized they were sneaking off in the crowd. She was pretty sure they didn't look that out of place, maybe lady luck just didn't find favor with them that evening?

"How silly of me…" She muttered, pushing the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, before she smiled sheepishly at the doctor, doing her best to not look like the kid who's hand was in the cookie jar. "I suppose it's a good thing I never go anywhere without a kit then…" She added, patting the messenger that laid across her torso. It was the truth, it was nothing like her emergency med bag, but she never did leave the hospital without a kit. Sure it was more for practice then anything, but she still had kit or two stashed if she ever needed it, one for sure was still in her bad from when she had been practicing during her break that afternoon. She also kept a roll of duct tape, a trashy romance novel, a few wrapped up gloves and her own scalpel, it was weighted jus thow she perfered it, and honestly the idea of anyone messing with it, agitated her to no end. It was just better for everyone in her opinon to keep it on her. Or at least that's how she rationalized it when she had been asked before about letting someone else see it.

Though that unease that had started to grow in her chest lessened a little at Riley's comment, making her roll her eyes as she followed along , passing the flask back over to him. "You're horrible." She chuckled, falling in step behind him and Casey. She doubted she would be so indispensable if she joined in of the 'festivities' It would take more than a few drinks for her to lose her senses, but no one needed to know that. It might be her way out, at least a convenient excuse for her to go 'stumbling' where she liked. Even if she couldn't get Casey to come along, one or the other could certainly help the other slip out after a drink or two. She doubted every member could sneak away as it was tonight. She passing the young nurse a smile as she walked up to them, nodding politely at her. "If you wish, an extra pair of hands might keep people from damaging themselves too badly. Or at least where I won't have every drunk with a bloody nose disturbing my drink." She added, trying her best at humor, not quite sure if it fell flat or not.