you can run but you can't escape

[singmod]

THE DARKWALKER COMES

The Darkwalker strikes again. This time, it does not come for one Interloper — but four.

WHEN: March 2nd.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE

The sun sets on another day in the Northern Territories. The night is calm but cold, scant clouds drifting low in the skies promising snowfall soon. A waning moon sits in the skies amongst its sea of stars, and those looking up may notice it — slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out.

Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the town of Milton. One more, the sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.

They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.

Fear washes over you like a cold wave, a vice-tight grip that squeezes the breath from you. Interlopers will find themselves over-come, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover indoors. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperate attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cowered alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.

The footsteps draw closer and closer, and you feel like the ground itself may be threatening splitting open beneath you. It isn't you that it hunts, but you notice its path — a straight line from the east towards Milton Church. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.

There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and suddenly the sky is alight: streaks of pale colour shoot across the gloomy green — almost blinding for one long moment. A woman's scream fills the air and then snaps into silence.

The skies return to normal, the green is gone, the fear melts away from you. It is done.

There is no body in the street. Interlopers venturing out will need to go looking for whoever it is that's fallen victim to the Devourer. The answer will be found within Milton Church.

Towards the altar, peppered amongst faint glimmers of intangible green that will fade by morning, lie the twisted and mangled bodies of Nicholas Wolfwood, Millions Knives and both iterations of Vash the Stampede. There's no blood, no physical wounds — simply the contorted bodies that lie dropped like ragdolls. Each of their faces stare with wide eyes, frozen in horror — just as La'an Noonien-Singh was.

The Darkwalker has devoured more. There is a story, told by Methuselah: It is said that the Darkwalker will awake from its slumber and swallow the world whole. One head will swallow the stars and moon and sun. Another will swallow the seas and lakes and rivers. The third will swallow the land, and every living thing upon it — and only then will the Darkwalker be satisfied and return to sleep once more.

It feels as if the Darkwalker is making good on its story: one by one, it will devour you all whole. And now the Interlopers of Milton must grapple with more death.

FAQs

1. Essentially, a 'party post' for reactions to the Darkwalker's attack, the immediate aftermath, and any funerary preparations. Have... fun???

2. Information on the Darkwalker's attack can be found here.

3. An OOC Rundown for the original Darkwalker's attack, which includes some FAQs can be found here.

4. Notes about the characters:

Wolfwood: He doesn't leave any messages behind. Folks are welcome to go through his house, which is the cabin by the pond -- there's nothing in there of his, and the only changes he made to the house was pulling a twin bed over in front of the fireplace. The wall of the cabin is also scorched from inside, from where his Lightbringer power erupted at one point.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Stampede): He really didn't have much belongings or anything in particular of note, so it is a free for all situation in terms of possessions.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Maximum): He'll be leaving behind his meager belongings. all of it can be found on either his person or in the church's living quarters which is also decently stocked with foraged foods. alas he's prepared no messages because he is absolutely atrocious at saying goodbyes.

Millions Knives: He'll leave behind sharpened hunting and skinning knives (hah), some fishing equipment, and scattered feathers around the church.

Comments

cw: talking blood in here

[ployboy]

The first thing he did was to tackle Damian Wayne, with all the hard-earned knowledge that the kid might gore him with a sword pulled straight outta hammerspace. But the world is Green and that alone makes Tim wade through an eternity of nausea. Suddenly having to grapple with a Robin and hold what small weight he has on the boy over him, both of their heads now in the dry-humid-cold-warm of animal bedding in the cow's stall, doesn't help.

Tim shakes.

The worst thing about it all is that maybe both of the boys are aware that this gesture isn't for the youngest of them, but rather an educated effort to evade retaliation from someone who isn't even present in their lives. Who isn't even here.

But Tim shakes, and he thinks he can pretend that this isn't so messed up as he grabs at Damian's arm to feel less alone.

And eventually the world returns to... normal. Sure. That.

Normal.

It takes time to trek from the Farm to where so many others are gathering; Tim pointedly doesn't scan for faces he knows. (He knows the agony of not seeing who you expect to be alive, alive.) He weaves through the small crowd.

There are newer Interlopers.

Tim Drake's reputation here is nothing worth protecting and worrying over. He has a role to play but it isn't him, not even now, feeling so childishly small and grotesquely exposed. He hasn't had the opportunity to see the bodies. Doesn't need it because he can still see-- anyway. Anyway. He frowns and says, with the finality of someone who will get it done,

"I'm going to need some blood."

cw: he bit his lip cos he got scared fsdjlfsd

[flambeaux]

One head will swallow the stars and moon and sun. Another will swallow the seas and lakes and rivers. The third will swallow the land, and every living thing upon it — and only then will the Darkwalker be satisfied and return to sleep once more.

Shaking in the night, Louis wondered if the woman and the beast could be the same, howling and screaming enough to raise Hell. This time, Louis held himself back from biting his arm, but his fang still slipped and broke the skin on his lip. The angry red welt, iced down as well as possible, glares on his face now.

If Tim didn't notice Louis, he'd be forgiven for both not looking for people he knows and because Louis stands quite (too) still in the shadow of a pillar, face carefully (barely) held composed like a statue of a saint, hat under his arm. He might be a priest on a good day, or (more accurately) a man just keeping it together before he enters the confessional and removes the mask.

At the mention of blood, Louis's head turns fast enough for anyone to wonder if he'll hurt his neck doing that.

"...What?" he asks, half incredulous. One could say blood is his special interest.

[killer]

[ Sam hasn't slept and it shows in the trembling of her hands even before she tugs her mittens off to fish a torn up carton of cigarettes from the pocket of her neon parka. (Not her style at all, but functionality reigns in Milton and this is the warmest coat she has found.) She doesn't have many cigarettes left; despite rationing, she burned through half the pack in just a week when she was weaning off her meds. Now that she has more or less stabilized, she keeps them for extraordinary occasions. This qualifies.

She lights the cigarette with a plastic BIC lighter because her nerves are far too shot to attempt using fire powers right now. Hanging back from the actual scene, she watches others approach and react before deciding whether she needs to see for herself. She has seen so much fucked up shit already that it almost seems insane to voluntarily subject herself to more, but at the same time, she feels a responsibility to bear witness. She couldn't help anyone, couldn't fight back or stop it from happening, so what gives her the right to shield herself from the consequences?

But mostly, Sam just needs to be somewhere where she can see other people with her own eyes, even if she still keeps some distance. She weathered the night in fear-soaked solitude and the last thing she needs right now is more alone time. ]

Did you know them? [ Is her conversation opener for anyone who strays from the scattered crowd to where she is standing, smoking and watching. ]

[burying]

[ It's not as if he's seen the bodies of the dead before. Only this is— it's different, and also not. He's seen the dead, torn to pieces or bloodied from bullets of bladed. He's been the cause of those bodies himself, the people he killed and ate, back when he wasn't himself, fresh out of his own grave. But this isn't that, there's no blood, no gore — just contorted bodies that don't look like people any more.

Violence. There's still violence.

And... fear. He doesn't look to hard at their faces, the horror frozen there in each of their expressions. He hadn't looked, the first time this happened. He's still not sure why he's even here now. He's silent, sticking to the edges — hood pulled and hands shoved in his pockets, his expression quiet and watchful. ]

No. [ Kieren's soft spoken. He looks to the young woman briefly before his eyes turn back to the scene. ] I mean— I recognise them, I suppose.

[ Everyone's kind of seen everyone around here, right? There's gotta be less than a hundred people in Milton. ]

One of them's... they've been here right from the start, though. From the first lot of us that came here.

[sputnik]

[ He'd spent some time looking at the bodies up close — and no matter how much horror Konstantin has known as of late, this is.... something different. There's no gore, no blood or mess at all, only the remains of four men frozen in some state of perpetual terror.

It's difficult to look at their faces. There's a thing inside of his body that feeds off of fear, and Konstantin's seen enough screaming faces for a lifetime. He finds himself moving out of his inquisitive crouch, standing up again to take steps backwards, putting some distance between himself and the corpses.

It'd be hard to miss the young woman in the neon coat, and he finds himself drawn closer to her like some beacon; she stands a safe distance away, and offers a grounding point. Maybe he needs to keep close to someone, too. Years of intense training — conditioning — in the Cosmonaut Corps, psychological just as much as physical, a promotion to Commander, and he still found himself childlike last night, feeling smaller than he has since he can remember. Trembling and wet-eyed; the fear seemed etched into his bones. He can still feel it there if he lets himself, and he tries not to. He puts on a smile as he looks to her — sobered, heavy at the corners, but warm the way his smiles always are, even for strangers. ]

I didn't. [ There's an odd guilt that nudges up under his sternum with the words, like they're a confession. Like the death of anyone around him is something he could have helped avoid. Maybe it's a stupid thought, even selfish, but it's one that needles him, again and again and again. He's supposed to be a hero. ]

Did you?

[notarat]

[ Billy doesn't linger near the scene for too long.

He shows up, moving a little closer so he can see what exactly happened - and once he's seen it, he's also quick to turn away from it. Something about the man's face seems terribly pale, though it's hard to tell if it's always like that - look, he does look very British.. - or if it's due to the horror of what he just saw. But rather than moving away fully right away, he first just distances himself from the crowd to try and breathe, and it's then that Sam speaks up.

He slowly turns his head to look at her. There's a slight pause, like he's trying to tell whether he knows her, only to realise she's a stranger, and then he shakes his head. ]

No, none of them.

[ Thankfully. The threat of the Darkwalker is bad enough on a personal level, but there's at least one person here Billy really doesn't want to lose to it. ]

.. though I doubt they will be the last victims.

closed to snow white!

[bigbaddy]

[ If it were any other time - if this had happened only a few weeks earlier - Bigby would have gone look for the bodies.

He doesn't. Not this time. Instead there's only one other thought during the entire ordeal, and it's of one specific person. Not that there aren't other people in this town he'd hate to see fall victim to that being, not that he wants anyone at all to be taken by that thing-- But Snow is here now. Snow is here now. This exact thing happening to her is a worry that's been living within him ever since the moment she arrived, and now, so soon after, it is happening.

Not knowing who was taken is the worst part of it all. The moment Bigby can force his body to move again, he does. The way he's felt quicker and more energetic for the past few months serves him well by now, making him sprint across town to where he knows Snow is staying at the community hall in no time flat. He isn't even exhausted when he arrives - like he's got the wind at his back again, the way he used to back home, the power he inherited from his father.

He storms into the building, not even looking to see whether he's accidentally bumping into anyone else who might be emerging from their room scared and confused. Instead he runs in a straight line for the door to the room he knows Snow has been staying at, the worry seizing his heart with a vice grip at this point.

It means that almost right after the ordeal Snow will find a sudden rapid knocking on her door. Modesty is the sole reason Bigby doesn't break down the door to see if she's still in there and alive, really, though he's tempted. ]

Snow! [ His voice resounds from his side of the door a moment later, a worry in it that Bigby couldn't bother to hide even if he'd try. ] Snow, open up!

[powersuited]

[ The Community Hall has proven an acceptable place to stay for the time being, although Snow's well aware she'll need to find something else eventually — simply based on how long she knows Bigby has been here already without indication of being able to return to Fabletown. And then there's the fact that no one from home had even known he'd disappeared, a truth that still sits with her pretty uncomfortably after she'd learned it directly from him.

She barely has the opportunity to linger in those doubts, though, when the overwhelming sense of fear takes over, making it impossible for her to dwell on anything else but what she's feeling. She hasn't been this afraid since — no, she's not going to allow herself to go back to those days, when her torment seemingly had no end in sight. The moment she can breathe again, she seizes it, gasps for air with tears pinpricking her eyes, and an untold number of minutes pass by before she realizes she can faintly hear someone calling her name, a dull knocking coalescing into a louder sound the longer it goes on.

Instinct takes over and she stumbles to her feet, heedless of the fact that she's wearing a pair of borrowed pajamas, her toes bare, her hair down instead of carefully secured back from her face. She can't get the door open fast enough, but the man standing on the other side might be less prepared for her to suddenly throw herself at him, as she flings herself against Bigby, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. ]

Bigby.

[ She chokes out his voice on a sob, tears threatening to brim over again before she blinks enough times to force them back, but she hasn't lifted her head yet, her voice muffled where she's still hiding. ] What was that?

cw: body looting

[salamanca]

Lalo is one of the first people to arrive on the scene. He's not sure if he's the first, but he's one the earlier arrivals. There's a hazy green light still hanging in the air when he arrives.

Some people don't have the response to fear that they're supposed to. Maybe it's something in their upbringing; something happened to them while they were young, and it permanently damaged their ability to relate normally to danger. Or maybe it's something else, something that's just fundamentally wrong with the way their brain is wired. Who can say?

Whatever the reason, Lalo is one go those people. Fear drives him not to hide, or to flee, but propels him straight towards the thing that drives such terror into his heart. It's no different when he feels the fear of the Darkwalker; the sheer terror sending him towards the church.

He lets the feeling of fear guide him to where he's supposed to go.

The fear, and the ripples in the snow, like waves frozen in time. The waves proceed in a straight line; Lalo follows.

When he arrives, the place is eerily calm. No tracks, except for whatever tracks might belong to any other Interlopers who have beaten him there. Nothing disturbed, except a few things that looked like they've been knocked over from the force of something.

The bodies look like they've been dropped from a height.

Lalo starts to pick through them, rummaging for anything useful. It's very quiet and still, quiet enough that Lalo can hear even the faintest step towards him. The crowd hasn't gathered yet. It would be hard to imagine missing even someone fleet-flooted in this quiet.

Lalo's head snaps up at the sound of their approach. And he grins.

Lalo is nothing if not shameless. "You gonna just stand there?" he says. "C'monnn. This way we can make sure everything gets divvied up among the people who need it." A wink. "What do you say?"

Sounds logical to Lalo, anyway!

[solitarysoul]

"Um."

He's not sure why he went to the church, but Levi arrives there early enough to find Lalo still...'searching' the crime scene.
He's no stranger to looting the dead, to taking the man who fell beside you's ammo so you can keep fighting, or desperately hoping they had a healing potion they hadn't used. Its not that much different from when they were using what was left in the early days here. He's not sure why Lalo's winking though.

"Do they even have anything?"

Wait, no, he got distracted.

"Is it like with La'an? No wounds, just frozen in fear?"

He moves closer, though, might as well check for himself. Maybe he can put something the strange feather man had to use.

[friendsfordinner]

This isn't the first body Hickey's looted and it's certainly not going to be the last. When he sees Lalo, when he watches him rummage through them, he recognizes exactly what that man is doing. And he wants in.

"Glad to see you're back in your right mind," he lightly teases. There's no ill-will held from the hallucinogenic mushroom samba, but Hickey isn't above just a little shittalking. "But you're right about this one. They might've left something for friends or family. How're we to know that just from looking?"

[killer]

Sam has seen her share of dead bodies. She'd like to think that she's not inured to the sight but there are things one learns to expect. What makes this scene so unsettling is that there is no blood, no gore, no sign at all to indicate multiple killings have taken place. The twisted-up bodies seem almost like they've been posed for display. The Darkwalker may be a monster but this screams serial killer to Sam. Someone— or something— not just in it for the kill but the reaction too. The attention.

She doesn't pay much mind to the other person in the church, assuming that he is here for the same reason that she is. To bear witness. To pay respects. To that end, Sam reaches beneath her neon parka to clutch the St. Christopher medallion she wears around her neck. She's a lapsed Catholic at best but if any situation calls for prayer, it's this one. She closes her eyes and hopes that the souls of the dead will find their way.

Then she hears the sound of ruffling clothes and what sounds like fumbling with a jammed zipper and she knows that the other person is not here out of respect or considersation for the dead. Disbelief, then anger propel her to the front of the church to confront the man.

"Are you fucking kidding? I bet the bodies aren't even warm yet."

[lanfeared]

Lanfear isn't very long away from the church — in part because she's prepared to endure the overwhelming feelings that accompany the Darkwalker's arrival, can recognize them for what they are and steel herself accordingly, and in part because she wants to determine whether she can make it quickly enough to encounter it face to face. Only then, she's decided, will she be able to offer herself in service to it, to do whatever may be required of her so that she can see the One Power returned to her.

Being deprived of her ability to channel has made her existence here even more excruciating than it would be otherwise — she's forced to do everything the slow way, rather than achieving it instantly, and it hasn't taken her very long at all to conclude that she despises anything having to do with manual labor.

With the fear as her guide, she arrives at the church, only to discover that she's not alone.

"And if I'd come upon you any later?" she asks, voice as soft as Selene's even if she's allowed some of her outer facade to slip — that hint of anticipation, of eagerness at potentially finding the Dark One here, now forced back behind her outer walls again. She doesn't consider herself desperate enough to resort to looting, but while they're alone, she sees no reason to necessarily retreat.

"Would you have slipped away, pockets full in service of your own needs?"

— ota!

[sputnik]

[ The first time the sky turned green and that wave of all-consuming fear washed over the residents of Milton, Konstantin was still freshly sick and healing from a gunshot wound to the stomach (this place stopped him from dying, somehow, from the injury that assuredly should have killed him — was meant to). Everything felt like a fever dream. He wasn't able to make any sense of it, never quite processed it. He heard rumours of a woman's death, of something that had killed her, but no real associations were made in his mind.

Certainly not of the supernatural.

This time, no matter the years of intense psychological training required of those in the Cosmonaut Corps, he finds himself reduced to something almost childlike, trembling and wet-eyed when it happens. There was a dream once, that all of the residents of this place shared. Something looming and terrible, and a putrid green sky.

It's assuredly foolish to go to the source of the accident, but Commander Veshnyakov never became what he is by playing it safe. Besides, he's been sitting back long enough (out of necessity most days; he's still recovering, and the alien creature inside of him continues to be strangely affected by this place in ways that keep them both weakened). But he'll never make it out of this place if he doesn't investigate, learn as much as he can. He heads to the church, following the little groups of people gathered nearby, others drawn there too.

— Earlier on, when the bodies have freshly been discovered, Konstantin can be found near the altar where the bodies of the four men are strewn, staring down at them with a solemn intensity. He's no stranger to horrible things, to bloodshed and inhuman suffering, but this is... different. There is no blood. There isn't much of anything. Just clear evidence of sheer terror on each of the men's faces. The cosmonaut crouches down close to one of them, eyes slowly roaming the corpse, speaking up to anyone who might be close enough to hear— ] How many times has this happened? A woman was found like this once before, right? Was she the first?

— A bit later on, after the crowds have died off and the bodies have been removed, Konstantin returns to the church to do some more looking around in solitude. He's already poked through the main area enough to notice little out of the ordinary (except for feathers scattered around, which is... strange, and he's slipped a couple carefully into his coat pocket.)

Now he's in the small wing that holds the church office and the modest living quarters. He's learned by now that at least some of the dead men were living here, and he swallows past the odd sensation that it's wrong to be here, brows knit as he slowly looks around for some clue, any evidence that might help with this mystery. Konstantin is not a small man, tall and athletically-built, but he knows how to move quietly when he needs to, how to maneuver his body. Still, no matter how quiet he tries to be, he's unable to help the creak of old wooden floorboards beneath his shoes. He assumes he's alone — but maybe someone else has had the same idea. ]

[solitarysoul]

Just once.

[Levi is hovering around, looking very much a boy in his oversized coat despite the rifle on his back.]

Nothing like this happened before that, before the dream. But...maybe that's what happened to the people who used to live here.

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach hung back from the four bodies. He wasn't unused to death. He'd lived with it night after night for too many years now to be completely shocked by it. The other emotions that went with seeing a bunch of bodies, however, those he could do without. Feeling a certain helplessness that this had happened again, frustration that the godlike creature who did this could not be stopped, and that sense of (undeserved) guilt that once again he'd been unable to keep the people here safe.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he couldn't even muster up his usual hostility towards the Russian. He merely nodded, silent as he stood back with his hands in his pockets. However, the thoughts that raced through his head were filtering in and out like a radio signal that was too far away to fully pick up.]

....not again......and who will be next....should been able to....why does it come....can't protect anyone from anything here....

cw: mention of self-harm and an autopsy

[flambeaux]

Louis felt the grip of fear during the first attack, compulsively biting into his own arm. He saw La'an's body, both as it was left and the examination afterward. He listened to Goodsir talk about cardiac arrest and Damian propose chemical testing as the body was cut up.

Tonight, while cowering in that uncontrollable fear, his fang slipped and broke the skin on his lip. The angry red welt, iced down as well as possible, glares on his face now. Louis shivers even in his wool overcoat, but otherwise keeps his face as impassive as he can make it. A crease appears between his brows.

Louis did not have the thought the first time, but he has it now: What if the howls of the monster and the screams of the woman were from the same creature? His own daughter is a devourer with the sweet face of a girl. Perhaps that influences his thinking.

"Two different points in town have been hit, to our knowledge. It comes from the east. Has anyone started markin' the path? If you draw this one and the previous one on a map, the lines may cross... eventually."

There are two things that Louis is not: good at math and willing to trek long distances while surveying. But he remembers, vaguely, doing numbers and plotting curves in school.

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby is in the church too.

Not to investigate, though. Even if it's exactly the sort of thing he does back home, prowling all over crime scenes, he doesn't feel like doing it this time around. He knows other people must have picked the place clean already anyway, especially with how much attention so much sudden death got. No, he instead came back for a different reason entirely. He hoped it might get rid of that heavy feeling he's been having in his gut all day after learning who had died, returning here. Thinking about him.

.. but, to be fair, he expected to be alone. He purposefully waited for most of the day just to make sure that he'd be alone, not wanting the moment to be ruined by some other presence, or by seeing the bodies still lying there.

That creak, though, definitely tells him he's not alone. Bigby is of half a mind to just turn around and leave, to give up on the entire plan, but then he spots who's making that sound in the first place.

The guy in the woods, huh. The weird medical condition one. ]

.. if you're looking for the bodies, they've already been taken away.

[ It doesn't sound like an accusation. Bigby's voice isn't even harsh, really.

Instead it sounds.. weirdly heavy. Heavier than it had been, back in the woods. Like there's something weighing it down. ]

[chuju]

[ Daisy wasn't here the last time the darkness arrived, but she's heard the story of what happened. How fear descended upon the town like a living thing, and how one woman died horrifyingly. But even the look in people's eyes as they spoke of it couldn't prepare her for experiencing it herself.

She hides alone, cowering in a closet of the closest house she can find, and she hates every second of it. She should be out there, she should be fighting whatever this is — but she can't move. And what could she do against something that sounds like that without her powers?

When it's finished, she leaves the little house and follows the strange path to the church, studying it and wishing desperately yet again that her team was here. Others are already in the church when she arrives, and by the time the bodies are removed, she knows she has to do something. So she extracts the small notebook from the battered purple backpack she carries and begins to write. The sounds, the way the bodies were found, the green light — she tries to describe it all in detail. She's nearly finished when she hears sounds from further within the church.

Notebook in hand, she follows those sounds to find a stranger whose face she's only glimpsed around town. It's clear this area has been used recently, so she makes a guess, trying to push down how shaken she is and appear like the professional agent she is. ]

Hey. You live here?

ota

[flanerie]

As soon as the terror passes, Lestat extricates himself from his hidden resting place. He takes a moment to compose himself, and then, without further delay, girds himself for a hunt.

The trail is not difficult to follow. He only need attend to where the town's bolder inhabitants flock as he slips between the shadows of shuttered houses, patient in his pursuit. There's no need to hurry. The object of his attention is not the creature itself, but the mangled prey it has left behind - and if that prey rouses itself to wander, they will have an entirely more interesting problem on their hands.

His face is quite solemn as he steps into the church, his rifle slung prominently over his shoulders. This is a social occasion, and one must come with the proper accessories.

It's a fascinating tableau. The desecration of this once-holy place with these contorted corpses limned in faerie-fire, each whole, broken only by the violence of their mortal terror. He approaches the bodies when there's a brief lull in the flurry of activity around them, cocking his head at one in particular.

"A pity," he murmurs, studying the ruined face of a handsome young man who once offered him the comfort of his coat.

[salamanca]

"Did you know him?" Lalo asks. Why is he still here? Who knows. He's a creeper. Creepers be creepin'.

Lalo's body language is relaxed and easy, his hands shoved into the pockets of his threadbare coat. One finger sticks out of a hole in one of said pockets. Lalo seems unphased.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

For Lalo, it's actually less glib than you'd expect, his normal cheery affect tempered by an understanding of the solemnity of the situation. He notices Lestat's gun, of course, but to Lalo, that's nothing. What drives his real focus is the confidence with which Lestat carries himself.

He looks around at the green haze, faded quite a bit since Lalo first got here, but still slightly visible. "Does this remind you of anything?"

spoilers for ep1

[flambeaux]

Lestat killed him in a church. The last time Louis saw death in a church, it was his own, in full view of the corpses of two unwitting priests. Memory is a monster, but so is he. He was transfigured on the steps of the altar very close to where four bodies lie now.

The recognition shows on his face. Vash and Knives, a third brother Louis wasn't aware of, and the dour man in black who poked his head into the soon-to-be General Store. They would be handsome corpses except for the twisted fear left on them. Louis knows that corpses never look like the people they were in life, not in any way that matters, but it disturbs him that this happened again, and to an increased number of Interlopers. The Darkwalker's increasing appetite rivals Claudia's, it seems.

Lestat will know his footsteps, but that doesn't matter. Something in Louis is glad to see Lestat whole, not broken on the altar like some fallen angel. It seems he was out hunting. Louis stops next to him, one hand coming up to rest on his arm just above his elbow.

"Did you feel it too, or were you able to guard your mind against it?" he murmurs so no one can overhear. He speaks in French out of habit, their somewhat private language, though translation happens anyway in this world. Lestat is the only person Louis knows that has an appreciable amount of power to do so.

His lip smarts where he bit it while cowering in that uncontrollable fear. He put some ice on it--no shortage of that in this place--but it's still an angry red welt freshly crusted over.

[guidemyway]

Ruby wasn't here to examine the bodies. She was just keeping an eye out on the area and helping out where she could. She didn't have the medical knowledge or know how to be of much good at examining corpses, but she could do crowd control.

She catches sight of Lestat when there's a lul and she gently steps into ear shot just in time to catch him murmur. She blinks a little confused at that.

"That might be the understatement of the century right there."

[darkxwolf17]

Uzi hates the fear in her mechanical gut when the Darkwalker comes. It's almost as unbearable as the aurora that regularly deigned to deliver painful ripples through her mind. Some part of her, deep down, had hoped it wouldn't come back. That the Aurora wouldn't either. Yet, here they are.

Time to see what the damage was.

Leaving the quiet, cold existence she had made in the Milton gas station, she ventured into town, a sharpened tree branch affixed to her back for easy access. Would it help her against the Darkwalker? Probably not. God, she missed her powers.

Uzi shakes her head, feeling her tiny body shiver against a cold she couldn't feel. Right now, being alone was almost uncomfortable. She was about ready to admit that.

"Please, don't let me be the final girl," she starts before the quiet is compounded by footfalls in the snow. She turns quickly, blinking wide as she finds a face. "Oh crap. So, that Darkwalker thing left some people this time, too."

[lilredvamp]

Jessica have taken up residence in the Community Center. She wanted a house with her own coffin like everyone else, but for the past several days since her arrival she’s more or less stuck in the Center. She managed to scrounge up a hope chest, which was cramped and uncomfortable but better than being exposed by windows.

Still, just in case, Jessica wrote a hasty note on the chest that says Please don’t open! I sleep here during the day. and taped it on the top. So far no one have bothered her. Jessica made sure not to bother other people, as much as she want to bite down on an unsuspecting throat. She fed on the trucker before she landed in Bumfuck, North Pole, and she have two bottles of TruBlood. But it won’t last and already she’s hungry.

It’s that hunger did she decide to go out. Dressed as warmly as she could she just opened the door when the night sky started to turn green. The fear twisted her gut and she fled back inside with everyone. She pushed people as she ran back to her hope chest, clambering inside and closing it in a snap.

There, for the first time since her turning, she prayed to God. Praying as she cried bloody tears, fingers in her mouth sucking like she used to do when she was a baby girl scared of her closet.

And the screams, oh, the screams and the roars and it won’t end…

Until it did.

Jessica dared not to sleep, even she can feel the sun rising in her bones.

Finally, finally, as the bodies found in the church were taken away, Jessica opened her chest and peeked out. She can hear people milling about, talking, maybe about…whatever happened. “Is it over?” Jessica asked, fingers emerging from the chest like pale spiders. “What happened?”

[solitarysoul]

Its that lady who lives in a box. Levi is very confused by that, but he assumes its just normal for where she's from. Maybe its comfy to be enclosed like that. He won't ask. He will look at her as she asks that, though.

"Its over. A-at least for now. There's a....force here. That can do what you felt last night, and its taken people twice now." He doesn't really want to freak people out, but hiding that truth wouldn't help anyone.