Though We Walk Through Darkness

[mango]

Darius

Facial features pinched in a wince from the looming sun, Darius brought a hand up and rested it against his brows, temporarily shadowing the upper half of his face so he could see. His figure rested, slightly hunched, on a simple tree stump, occasionally shifting to the left as a lithe figure behind him made her way back and forth on a fallen log, and needed something to steady her balance on. He'd mind it more if she weighed anything, but he could hardly feel Sonny's weight on his shoulders when she passed. She sang a familiar song beneath her breath, in between little pants from the warm air and gasps if her foot slipped -- it was a tune he'd heard so many times it was nearly white noise.

"bless this house, may peace dwell within, protect all that enter, whether friend or kin -- "

With each passing, he caught the strong musk of sage attached to her skin -- everyone knew sage meant Sonny was near by. It loomed in the van, in his own camper, and on everything she owned -- mixed with everyone's preferred musk, that is. His was sandalwood -- from the incense, which he burned at certain times of the day, specifically when he was reading, or just trying to concentrate in general. He had little incense holders all over his dwelling place, some were hidden, some in plain sight, some were bought from a gas station and others, hand made or improvised -- but never in people's way. They proved as little signature marks for Darius, especially the ashes. Everyone had something like that -- a little reminder that, hey, I'm here, this is my mark. He wasn't really sure how he'd managed to accumulate so many souls in one place, for a half assed mission, but it was interesting -- he had plenty to watch and observe, though that's as far as Darius really got with anyone on a personal level. His mind was always surface level in the moment, but primarily dominated by his fixation -- entities. Specifically, an entity. One among an infinite realm.

Which explained how he watched the faces he'd come to know with the interest of a passing stray cat, while his hand gripped an abused notepad that sat on a droopy wrist, bent over his knee. He had a tool for documentation of his thoughts and findings on him at all times, be it a recorder, a paper, or a mutual witness -- Darius was considered by everyone as some degree of obsessive, but outside thoughts had little time to reside within his mind, he was simply, too occupied.

"Who's ready to get back on the road?" He asked out loud, after his eyes had dropped back onto the note pad. MAINE was scribbled all over the neglected page, with strikes through it, unnecessary amounts of question marks, circles, just about every handwritten sign to allude he was not certain it was the right place for the group to be.

Sonny

On the balls of her feet, Sonny walked from one end of the rugged, fallen oak to the other, fingers stretching from her hands which hovered inches away from her hips, as if the extension aided in her balance. She teetered back and forth, biting too hard on her lip, the pale skin between her brows slightly glistening from the constant exposure to sunlight -- she was occupying her very bored self, waiting to regroup and get back on the road. They had stopped to stretch, but that was like, a million years ago -- she wanted to leave and get where they were going, especially because Darius had forbid her from wandering off to explore, and nearly bit her head off when she tried to anyways. Something about her being naive. She responded brilliantly with well, you're a butt which was received with a laugh.

"Who's ready to get back on the road?"

"I am!"

"We know you are Sonny."

Her docile expression suddenly crumpled, thinly groomed brows meshing together to express discontent, "What if Maine doesn't have anything?"

She bobbed along the log, missing Darius's head abruptly cocking up -- she had unknowingly picked up on his anxieties, unable to decipher that an irrelevant worry like that did not match her prior thoughts, pertaining only to how soon could they get there. She missed his eyes on her, only turning around to catch him reverting back to his former posture, slightly slouched, bare elbows on his knees clad in faded beige. "Pierre didn't have anything either," He answered, though he didn't seem to really talk to her, it was more like completing his own war of thoughts. Neither his warring mind, nor the blonde behind him, could really argue with that -- she shrugged, and, using his tense shoulder to balance her, Sonny stepped down from the fallen log, doe eyes lingering on him with an unexplained gleam of concern before she broke their one sided physical contact, and she attempted to shift her attention elsewhere.

"Oh! Wait, the sage," She elegantly made her way to the van, disappearing inside for a moment only to come back outside, this time with a bundle of fresh sage and a lighter.

"You just saged the car before we left," Darius remarked.

"A little more can't hurt, we need all the protection we can get with what we do," She responded, the same response she always gave. She lit the bundle and waved it around the door, peering around past both shoulders before sprinkling a little black salt along the threshold. She knew Brad would be mad if he caught her putting 'dirt' inside the car again, he claimed they 'tracked it everywhere' and that it got the floors dirty. "Just a liiittle pinch,"
She breathed, quietly proud of her ritual. ​

 

[Kate]

As the group took a much-needed rest stop, Brad had taken the time to check over the van and make sure everything was fine with it. There was no reason why it wouldn't be, as he took exceptionally good care of it, but with little else to do, it made sense to at least check the tyres and make sure the oil levels were fine. Some might say he was a bit particular about keeping the van maintained, but Brad had his reasons - at a push, he could fit pretty much everyone into the van, along with most of their equipment if required - so if the car packed in, then he at least knew he wouldn't have to abandon anyone. Given that they sometimes went off the beaten tracks on the whim of one of the more supernaturally sensitive people within the group, Brad made sure that he was prepared for the damage it could do the van, even if the others weren't so prepared.

As ever, Brad drove the van, but the other number of cars varied. They always needed at least one car, as they had seven people and one dog to transport, and the van only had seats for three. Sometimes Kat joined him, sometimes she went in the car with Darius and the others, sometimes he took Wren and Wyatt, sometimes Maxine... it varied as to who was sitting where. The only consistent thing was that he didn't travel with Darius, as he always drove his car and, where possible, Brad avoided having to travel with Oren in the car. Something about that guy made him uncomfortable.

The van's maintenance was relatively quick and easy, seeing as he did it so often that not only did it involve minimal work, it also came naturally enough that he could blitz through it with his eyes shut. Satisfied with himself, he had grabbed a can of energy drink out of the van and settled down on a rock near the others, watching as Sonny worked her way back and forth across the log. Inwardly, he told himself that this was exactly the kind of isolated spot where a car or van could break down and no-one would want to be stuck here. It was fine for a rest stop, but nothing more than that.

"I'm ready," he called out, "Van's ready too." He glanced around the group, shaking his head when Sonny started up her sage ritual, though he had long since given up on trying to stop the girl. The one time he had stopped her, she had been quite visibly distraught and while it was a bit of an inconvenience for him to clean up the salt and charred herbs, it wasn't a big deal and certainly wasn't worth upsetting the blonde over.

"How are we doing this, then? Same travel arrangements as on the way here, or do people want to change places?" he called out, stretching his arms above his head as he stood up. Brad took a final swig from the can and then dropped it to the floor, stomping it flat and then squatting to pick it back up. "We've still got a couple of hours of driving to do, so," he shrugged and nodded towards the bushes, before looking directly at Wyatt. "You'd better take care of any business now if you need to."

Waiting a moment for everyone else to follow his gaze to Wyatt, Brad smirked. It was fun to prod him and he was an easy target, too. "Not you man," he added a few moments later, "I was talking about Casper, but I guess if you need to do stuff too then I'm sure we can all give you some privacy." He coughed and nodded back over his shoulder, "Even if this is an actual rest stop with an actual toilet."

 

[Lethe]

◄◄◄ Wren ►►►​

I really need to go outside more.

Wren reclined back against the trunk of the tree, her laptop carefully balanced on her knees. The blue sky was peppered with flocks of clouds, giving way for the sun to cast down a pleasant warmth upon the recluse's pale skin. From somewhere, a bird called out a pleasant tune and was met with a sweet, chirping reply. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air deeply. This. She liked this. No headaches, no noise, no chaos. Just peace. God, how she missed peace. Why didn't she do this more often? Wren froze as she heard an angry buzz and risked to open one eye, only for pinpricks of panic to stab her body as she saw the sharp body of a wasp lazily zig-zag its way past her face. Right. Bugs. That's why.

Slowly closing her laptop, Wren methodically rose up from her spot and away from the wasp. Nature may have peace, but civilization had no bugs and free wifi. Speaking of which, Wren opened up her laptop screen and frowned softly at the red 'X' over the connectivity bars in the bottom corner of her screen. She had done her research, compiled the information on purported sightings in Maine, and contacted as many people as she could. Still, it felt like it wasn't enough. There was more to find, more to do, more to prove. Wyatt had assured her that she had done enough, but 'enough' never really covered it.

"And here we have the wild Wren out of her natural habitat. Look how restless she is. Let's see what happens if we poke her with a stick."

"Poke me with anything, and you're going to be out two arms and a camera." Wren looked up towards the source of the faux Australian accent, making a face at the camera in Wyatt's hands before lifting up the laptop to hide her face. Research could come later, she supposed. Besides, she could always ask Oren to tag along with her if she ever needed more information. He was better at talking to people than her, anyways. "Ass. I thought you said you weren't filming until we got to Maine?"

"Yeah, but look at the place." Wyatt laughed and swung his camera around, allowing it to record the crew and camp. "Look at it, Wren. It's flippin' beautiful! Think of all the shots I could take. And the trees, Birdy, the trees. What kind do you think these are? Fir? Spruce? Oak? Wait, no, oaks are bigger, right?"

"Please keep your tree fetish as far from me as possible. Also, shotgun." She closed her laptop as Brad announced the van was ready, hiding a smile at Wyatt's visible procession of his lost front seat. By the time realization lit his eyes and he opened his mouth, Wren was already at the sage-smelling car. She looked back at Wyatt, the faintest of sly smiles twitching at the corners of her mouth. "It's beech-birch, by the way."

---

---

►►► Wyatt ◄◄◄​

"Betrayed by my own sister. That's a new low, even for you. What happened to 'Twinsies'? 'Double Trouble'? 'Two Peas in a Pod'?" Wyatt shook his head in mock disappointment as he trailed after. He grinned and shut off his camera, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Besides, Birdy, everyone knows who's already riding shotgun."

As if summoned, a mottled hound trotted out of the surrounding fauna with a beat-up tennis ball dangling from its mouth. Its asymmetrical ears perked up at the sight of Wyatt, the cheesy, black handkerchief patterned with the Ghostbuster's logo enough proof of who put it on in the first place. Casper bounded towards the crew, circling around each person in sight in greeting before finally sitting at Wyatt's feet. The dark-haired youth crouched down and playfully messed at Casper's ears. "You're a good buddy, aren'tcha? Yeah, you are. You love me more than Wren or Brad, huh boy?" Wyatt laughed as he was licked in response before rising up to stand. "So long as I've got the wind to my back and friends at my side, I'm alright sitting anywhere."

The talk of 'business' was enough to cause Wyatt to flush. He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and puffed up his chest in an attempt to regain what little was left of his pride. "Casper's done what he needed to do, right buddy? Besides, maybe I don't need bathrooms. Maybe nature is my bathroom. Maybe I want to tough it out like the pioneers in the old days, y'know? I'm tough and manly like that!"

Wren gave him a dry look. "You once cried after seeing Casper dressed like a ghost for Halloween."

"Hey. It was thematic and cute." Wyatt's grin was quick to return as he slung his arms around Wren and the nearby Sonny. "Now that we've saged it up, we gonna finish the roadtrip or what?"

 

[neptune]

There were highs and lows to any kind of travel. As much as people tended to complain about long road trips, about having their legs cramped up for so long that they started to go numb, and how they just couldn't stand being a pillow any longer, Maxine had always enjoyed the experience. It was closeness with the group that she liked the best; getting to watch Sonny as she floated off into her own little world, or listen to Wyatt and Wren bicker back and forth. After all was said and done, if they stopped chasing ghosts and getting the shit scared out of them tomorrow, it was the little moments stuck in a van that were always going to linger with Max.


That being said—she appreciated being able to stretch her legs.


Having seen one rest stop in her life, Max felt as though she'd seen them all. There was a standard parking lot with a questionable blob of sun-dried vomit, other cars that parked crookedly and the noise of the nearby freeway that prevented anyone from getting a true moment of peace. It was funny to her, as she stood there, face toward the warm sun and the smell of sage in her nose, that Sonny never failed with her routine.


It was then that Darius spoke up, suggesting that they get back on the road. Having been in the practice of treading lightly, Max knew how to effectively sneak around. She peered over Darius' shoulder, down at the notebook that looked to be covered in scribbles at first. "What's in Maine?" she asked, offering their fearless leader a smile before straightening up. Immediately, images of Stephen King's monsters came to mind, and Maxine was all the more eager to get going.


During most jobs, Max didn't bother to figure out where they were headed until someone gave her the finer details. She liked to learn organically, from discussion with the others and a terrified email from a person who thought their attic was haunted, or a haphazard Google search never offered the full picture. "Does someone need our help, or is this just us going hunting again?" Not that she minded. As long as there was something to do and spirits to communicate with, Maxine was happy.






Twenty years ago, Oren never thought that he would be anywhere but West Virginia. After joining up with Darius and his crew of ghost hunters, who were something of an edgy Scooby-Gang (dog included), he'd seen more in the last few months than most people back home would see in their entire lives. During the downtime, when things got quiet and he wasn't letting Wren talk his ear off about history, the notion started to make him feel a bit guilty. It felt like a fluke to have gotten out of that tiny, nothing town, and there was always a part of him that wondered when this shiny, new life would come crashing down.


Taking one last drag off of his cigarette, Oren crushed the filter under his shoe and tried to make the last inhale count. Despite all of the incense that was burned in the van, and Sonny's need to sage absolutely everything, Oren tried not to smoke around the others. It kept him calm, though, kept him from thinking too much and worrying about every last thing. It also stopped him from intentionally pressing Brad's buttons. For whatever reason—though it probably had everything to do with his swindler upbringing—that guy just didn't like him. The close quarters didn't help any either.


It took him another second or two, but Oren returned to the group just as Maxine mentioned Maine. "I never been there," he mentioned, but that was hardly surprising. "Are we going or what?" He looked over to Wren, who was standing with her brother and Brad. He would have liked to ride with her, but that likely wasn't in the cards.