Dark Matter [IC]

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hero.ic

Wannabe Hero
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
Debatable
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Female
  3. No Preferences
Genres
Romance, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Supernatural, Comedy, Modern, Yaoi, Apocalyptic
It was September 5th, nothing special in particular but it was always good to keep track. Especially in this little town where the ties to the world outside of those invisible walls had been severed. It was a quiet day, no more than any other day, but it had an ominous wind about it. The townsfolk were still nestled deep inside the safety of their homes waiting for the sunlight to break through and be their savior from what lurks in the night.​


MONDAY - SEPTEMBER 5th - Morning
Memphis Carys Paderau
::Location:: Her house
_____________________________​
Unlike many of the locals who preferred to share housing or already lived together from family ties, Memphis was alone. During the night while those creatures ran rampant around the town and everyone was snuggled with one another in their homes she sat huddled in a corner of her house prepared for the worst. Alone and afraid in a house too big for just one person the misfortunate girl waited patiently for the sun to rise just like everyone else.

As soon as the sun came up those creatures vanished back to the holes they crawled from and the whole block was silent. No banging on the walls, no screaming from fear of what is outside, just silence. This was usually how the civilians could tell if it was safe outside or not.

Memphis, eager to leave her home retracted the metal casing around her house and let the natural light flood into the room. It was warm and inviting, providing a sigh of relief after the night's festivities. She opened her door and exited her house to see if anyone was outside. Her pale blue eyes traced the streets carefully, making sure not to miss a detail. It was safe, for now at least, and that was what she settled for.

She returned inside of her house, her vibrant curls whipping behind her, so she could retrieve her garbage and toss it in the dumpster. It was something she intended to do the day before but it slipped her mind. It was mostly broken parts to machines, excess waste she had no need to clutter her house, and other useless things. With a bag in each hand, Memphis walked down to the dumpster and disposed of the trash. After that she proceeded to make her way back home to get started with her day.​
 
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GRETCHEN RYAN – HOME
The house that she had once called home was quiet, still in the remaining minutes of darkness before the sunrise; not that Gretchen could see out of any of the windows. Sitting at the kitchen table, the last thing her father had restored before his death, she smoothed one hand against the beautifully stained wood, while the other remained wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. Her thoughts were neither here nor there as her blue eyes focused on the metal covering the kitchen window—the one above the sink that her mother's face used to appear in. Redwood was different now and Gretchen was starting to have a hard time remembering why she had decided to stay after the funeral.


A loud bang from outside the living room windows startled her, the action sending sugary coffee all over her father's legacy. “Shit!” she hissed under her breath as she sprung up and quickly grabbed a rag that was hanging over the sink basin. Her heart raced as the old cloth soaked up the spill, blue eyes darting through the darkness of the living room and landing on that window again, the one with an equally strong metal shutter over the spotless glass. Noises like that had been constant since her return to town, but they were much worse during the dead of night. Looking up, the clock on the wall said that it was just minutes before sunrise.

After a few trips to the sink, the table was clean and Gretchen was at the sink, washing her hands when a creak on the staircase caught her attention. Although she acted differently, pretended not to need him most of the time, she felt safer when Rory was awake and now that it was just the two of them, regression was starting to look all the more tempting.

Did you hear that?” she asked over her shoulder, foregoing any type of good morning. The blonde raised an eyebrow at her older brother, whose hair was still a mess from tossing and turning during the night. He shuffled over to the coffee pot, still warm from her obsessive efforts of waiting out the sunrise, and poured himself a cup. “That noise?” she tried again, and Rory merely grunted, “you couldn't have missed it.”

The mug in his hand fronted a picture of a now-faded cartoon cat and their expressions blended into one another as Gretchen watched Rory take a long drink. In the morning, caffeine was more important than easing worries. “It was probably just a raccoon,” he claimed, his trademark smile having replaced a sleepy frown. “You worry too much, Gretch.”

I guess it was a raccoon that kept thumping against my bedroom window, too?” she asked cooly, arms crossed as Rory worked his way around her and unlatched the metal shutters from the window. New light poured into the kitchen, bright, pure and drowning out the yellow tinge that the bulb in the overhead lamp gave off. “I'm not stupid.”

I know you're not,” Rory replied, a certain tiredness to his voice that was cause for concern. Gretchen backed off, sighing as her shoulders slumped and Rory silently thanked her with a kiss to the top of her head. Ever since the funeral, most of their conversations carried on in the same fashion—anger and then reluctant acceptance to continue later—it was hardly productive. As Rory went about opening the rest of the windows on the first floor, Gretchen tossed the remains of her coffee down the drain and headed toward the front door. If Rory hadn't heard anything, maybe one of the neighbors did.

September in Michigan still lingered on the warm side, but Gretchen was never one to skimp on boots and a comfy jacket. She stepped out onto the porch and let the morning air greet her, tinged with the coming autumn and the smell of leaves in the air, she took a deep breath and didn't flinch as her bad shoulder gave a twinge of pain. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red and for once, luck seemed to be on her side.

Memphis!” she called to the neighbor girl, and was quick to hop off of the brick porch to cross the lawn. “Good morning,” she smiled, hoping that it was friendly enough, that she wasn't being a total pain in the ass by daring to be nosy so early in the day. “Just curious—did you see a raccoon anywhere around here?”



RORY RYAN – HOME → MARKET
For someone who didn't like being around new people very much, Gretchen certainly went out of her way to get to the bottom of things. Without much fight in him, Rory watched his younger sister slip on her boots and unnecessary coat and bolt out of the door into the new morning. In terms of company, having her home was nice—without his father around, the house felt too big, too empty and too much nostalgia to bear without breaking down every time he passed a photographs of the family that used to be—having her home was also tiresome. Redwood had changed so much since she'd left for greener pastures, and Rory didn't know how to explain everything to her. Gretchen was right, she wasn't stupid, but how was he supposed to tell her that she was stuck in town for the rest of her life?


Shaking his head, Rory took his coffee cup and headed back up to his bedroom to dress for the day. There were worse places to be trapped, Rory rationalized as he pulled on a pair of jeans and rooted around for a clean t-shirt. The Others had a way of breaking things that weren't metal—deck chairs, picnic tables, canoes—tended to suffer under their shifty wrath and the need for outdoor fun kept him in business well enough. There were supplies that Rory needed from a few shops uptown, and he supposed they were getting low on edible food. He didn't mind errands, not when they kept his mind busy.

After finishing off his coffee, Rory brushed his teeth and left the house. His old bicycle was locked safe in the woodshed, and the nearly-bare tires slipped through the dew-wet grass as he peddled toward the street. The sun was finally brighter, not eclipsed by clouds or darkness; it felt like a good day and that kind of intuition wasn't something that Rory could ignore. He came around the side of the house and stopped when Gretchen and Memphis came into view—her red hair was hard to miss even from a mile away, and he could only hope that Gretchen wasn't being too invasive. In time, he hoped to tell her everything, but now wasn't appropriate.

Need anything from the village?” he asked brightly, courteous to those who lived around him. He'd gotten everything from a carton of eggs to laundry detergent for his neighbors, and there was no shame in trying to derail Gretchen's attempt at amateur investigation. “I'm just going into town, thought I'd ask.”
 
| Nicholas Vaughn |
| Location: His house |

Nicholas couldn't really call this place home, but he had been living in it for two years straight. It was definitely "his place," where he felt relatively safe and had all the amenities he could ask for, but his heart told him it wasn't where he belonged. Sometimes he'd looked at the families around him living together under one roof and wondered if anyone was suspicious of his lifestyle. He lived alone, and he kept a dark shadow over certain parts of his past, always willing to share interesting stories but clamming up when it came to what he did before moving in. That wasn't to say he wasn't talkative, of course. Far from it. He just needed these people to be in the dark on some things, that was all.

At any rate, he still woke up in this strange Michigan town with everyone else. He listened to make sure it was safe, took down the shutters, and made himself breakfast, just like all the other residents. Toast, grits, and a glass of orange juice. A true classic. While he was digging into his home-cooked food, Nicholas's thoughts wandered to the other townsfolk. Most of them were younger than him by quite a bit, and some of them didn't take well to his high energy, but he never let that stop him from treating them like friends. That was all he could do, right? He didn't have a choice. Until someone came to help, they were stuck here in this town, trapped by the mystery creatures that lurked in the night.

"What a load 'a hooey," Nicholas said to himself. "Prob'ly just a bunch of kids playing pranks. No one's ever seen those things, right? All that noise at night... hmm, maybe it's just a bear. Thinkin' about how all these spooky legends might just be some wild animal... I bet the locals couldn't BEAR the thought!" He slapped the table and laughed at his own joke. Really, the only thing that kept him from disobeying the curfew was the thought that he might actually get hurt. No one would be there to bail him out, that was for sure.

Speaking of the locals, Nicholas heard some chatter outside and Rory's voice stuck out. Nicholas was fond of the boy; the two shared many traits and Rory had a habit of brightening up any conversation he was in. Nicholas could make out something about going into town and suddenly remembered the favor he meant to ask. After scarfing down the last of his food, Nicholas plodded to his front door and stuck his head out. A few flecks of grits were still caught in his beard and he was still dressed in his pajamas. "Hey, Rory!" he called to his neighbor. "You goin' to town? Would you mind pickin' me up some soup stock? I can give ya the money if you like."​
 
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