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

[sputnik]

[ It's a name he'll commit to memory — not that it should be too difficult; it's a pretty unique name. (The irony though that there was more than one 'Vash' in this place...) But he won't forget it. It's important not to forget that these men were here, alive and then taken, for whatever reason.

The greater part of him still insists that this is all by design, part of some experiment being conducted on all of them here by scientists, the military, whoever the fuck. ....But he can't help remembering the conversation he had with Bigby when they first met. A thing touching on the idea of who could be behind all of this, whether mankind or something higher. Now they're standing in a church, where four men have been killed, and no questions have been answered. All of this feels like a bad dream.

He looks back at Bigby as the man speaks, the other's eyes cast away from him. It's a heaviness, and he respectfully lowers his own gaze for some time, just listening to the other speak. ]

I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to know him. He sounds like a light in this place.

[ There are so many questions he could ask, to try and solve this mystery — did Vash or the other three ever do anything that might've made them targets? There has to be a reason the people in charge chose to kill them.... but he doesn't want to ask such things when the other man is dealing with the loss of a friend. It isn't the time for that. So he slowly looks back up, towards the hall leading to the living quarters. ]

They were living here, weren't they? I heard someone mention it earlier. Maybe there's something of his back there. Something you could remember him by.

[sputnik]

Sounds like we'd all just be a bunch of sitting ducks, in that case...

[ A wry smile. It's not an idea that sits well in the commander cosmonaut. ]

There has to be something we can do, one way or another. If we can figure out a pattern to this...

I'm not discounting any ideas, but to me, all of this seems a lot like some sort of experiment. I think we're possibly being manipulated by an organisation.

[solitarysoul]

I don't know of any way to prepare for something like this. I just try to be ready for anything.

An organization? What kind of organization?

[bigbaddy]

Bigby frowns. The sun.. hurts her? Sure, he's heard of people having very specific weaknesses before. He does too. But this place has so many mundies in it that he's caught by surprise when he realises it means the person in the box must not be a mundy in the first place.

He doesn't bother thinking on the sort of creatures that don't do well under the sun though. Not at first. Instead he glances around them, trying to find a solution to this problem. Seriously, has everyone just been letting her sit in a box without trying to help?

"How intense is it? I mean, would you be fine if we just covered up the windows in here for a bit?"

The man really doesn't want her to have to sit in a box by herself when the entire town is in chaos and lingering in the aftereffects of the despair and fear they all just felt.

cw: mention of decapitation in narration

[bigbaddy]

[ There's a slight nod when she mentions the thing about belief. It's the same thing Bigby has been thinking about a lot when it comes to the Darkwalker, unable to not compare that being to the way they as Fables work. There's no guarantee it's the same thing, but.. well, Snow understands it better than anyone else would, and he knows it. Belief is what powers them. It's what could power the Darkwalker too, the violence allowing it to have a deathly grip on this community.

For all the bad and worry that having her in this place summons, there's something nice in having someone around who understands him so instinctively. Someone he doesn't have to explain all of this to, especially when they'd only understand it in a theoretical sense, not in the lived sense that he and her share.

His frown grows a little though when she speaks up again after that. ]

No, it's gone again for now. There's periods between its appearances. First time it showed up was in a dream we had, a few months ago. Then two months ago it killed a woman. And now-- [ There's the relief that it wasn't Snow, but-- what if it was someone else he knows? He's grown so familiar with this community over his stay. ] -- now there are more people dead somewhere in town, I imagine.

[ The news will reach them soon, he figures. Especially since they're at the community hall. Someone will announce the casualities soon.

His heart feels heavy. It's reflected in his eyes, even if his body language is still tougher than that, knowing he has to be tough right now, regardless of everything else. ]

You know when it's around, because it spreads that feeling every single time. Like it's hard to even move. [ Bigby inhales. ] Are you sure you're fine, Snow? I..

[ He falters a little in his words, then continues. ]

I know you're tough. But I know how awful that feeling is. It makes you think of the worst shit possible. [ And if it even can affect Bigby, when he can't even recall the last time he felt truly afraid other than that moment he saw what he thought was Snow's decapitated head on the doorsteps of the Woodlands-- Then it must be an even shittier feeling to everyone else. To her, too. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ The other is definitely winning some points with Bigby here. It's not often that he runs into compassion. Maybe he runs into it a little bit more in this place than he ever did back home - but he knows that people bothering to say something kind in situations like these isn't necessarily the default. Far from it.

So the other bothering to say something nice about Vash, despite not knowing him, is.. a little nice. It won't bring Vash back, but Bigby hopes that maybe he can still hear it somehow, somewhere up or out there.

Bigby slowly inhales when the other man makes that suggestion, casting his gaze over in his direction. There's a slight moment of thought, but.. ]

.. nah. I know I'll be able to remember him just fine in my memories.

[ It's way closer to how death works for Bigby, given that he's actually a wolf. If someone dies, then.. you remember them by memories, not by stuff. It feels like too human a thing to really consider right now. ]

But if you were looking for-- for stuff, or clues, we could take a look together. I did this shit back home for a living. [ Maybe.. a little bit vague on what exactly said 'shit' is, but it's not Bigby trying to hide something as much as he's just not being very elaborate in the face of the grief he's still dealing with.

(He totally means 'murder investigations' though..) ]

lol

[flambeaux]

Louis watches the not-so-inner war of Lestat's mercury-swift emotions play across his face. It'd be fascinating in a detached way if Louis were 1) detached and 2) over him.

Lestat can really be an uncaring ass sometimes. It highlights the morbidity of the situation at hand in an almost comical way. Lestat could be covered in the very blood of the victims here and he would act the same, Louis thinks. (Although, Lestat's reasons for killing are more concrete than this unknowable monster.) Louis is able to set about death and gore with skill and elegance, fighting himself all the while, but he doesn't have Lestat's gift for irreverence.

There are feathers everywhere for some reason, no blood, an empty .45... and of course the expressions on their faces.

"...I think that's enough starin'," he finally says. If Lestat is going to smile like that, Louis is going to start shunting him where people can't see. "As if you didn't feel its Mind Gift too. If we... if we had been together when it hit, I don't even know if it would have been better or worse..."

[flambeaux]

Sometimes Louis stares a little too much at necks. If he's peckish or agitated, humans in close proximity are cloying. Occupational hazard of being a vampire. Louis hates himself for it anyway and strives to be master of his instincts. It's difficult to do whenever he accidentally licks the wound or smells the iron.

"No idea if the deaths were planned or if some of them just happened to get in the way. Both public places... Maybe it was meant as a warnin'. I have no idea if this creature is capable or possessed of such motivation."

Gone is his easy casual speech, though it still rises and falls with an easy Southern lope. He's troubled and thoughtful now, and he speaks like the books he reads. Because others have mentioned monsters in their worlds, he asks,

"Ever encounter somethin' like this back home?"

[flambeaux]

Louis is glad to see Tim alive. By the expressions on the corpses' faces, it is easy to imagine fates worse than death. Louis hopes they are in a better place now. He thinks it might be a vain hope. It's a terrible coincidence that Louis's eyes are as green as the fading glimmers around the bodies, but they are filled with nothing but concern and confusion.

He reaches out for Tim's shoulder. He looks like he needs it, watery and fraying at the edges as he is.

"I've met him. Charmin' young man." The kid who acted like an impatient old-timer. Louis has enough presence of mind to be a little deadpan about that. It's a comfort.

"I didn't see anythin' on Dr. Goodsir's notice," he muses curiously, nodding at Tim to go on. (Is Goodsir a certified doctor? He's the closest the town's got, at any rate.)

[flanerie]

Lestat's pleased to have made enough of a good impression that his survival is a relief, although apparently not strong enough of one that she takes it for granted, as she should. He supposes that's the price of rough anonymity.

"I doubt anyone expected this to be the death that would come for us," he muses, looking at the bodies once more. "But first that poor woman, and now these unfortunates..."

He can pity them, in his way. Dying in a fit of terror at the hands of a horror isn't how most mortals would prefer to meet their end.

"Still. Perhaps it's kinder than starvation." He raises his hand and turns it over, as if balancing an invisible scale. "If this pace continues, we'll have little else to fear but this end."

lmao

[flanerie]

Lestat says nothing, yet, to Louis' ushering. He complies with raised brows and a mischievous gleam in his eyes that will say enough all on its own, even as he tempers his smile to a solemn line on their turn.

I thought of calling out to you, he says, with that very gift in question. Should I, next time?

There's a lilt of teasing to the thought, but it's one undercut by the pang of more complex feelings lying below. He hadn't been quite so sanguine in the moment. It was strange, as it has always been for the past decades, to find himself struck by a pang of fear for any person other than himself.

He's tempted to press his suit on the subject of cohabitation here and now. Louis brought it up first, even if only as a hypothetical. Lestat is sure they would both benefit from ending this farce of a separation. For all of Louis' talk, they're no less entangled than they've ever been - and surely, he must see that.

But he can be patient. Patient and good, shepherded to whatever little nook Louis has in mind for continuing their conversation. That will have to be progress enough for the moment.

[lilredvamp]

“I burst into flames and die, that’s how bad it is!” She honestly doesn’t mean to sound hysterical, but she is, and worse, she’s hungry. Blood starts streaking down her her cheeks, vampire tears instead of normal ones. Everything starts spilling out, with the heighten fear and her hunger making her a little delirious and desperate. “And I’m so hungry but all I got this fake blood that taste like liquid shit but it’s two bottles and I don’t know what to do when run out! Maybe just stake me and put me out of my fucking misery!”

Jessica is so upset at her situation all she can do is to let the lid fall down in a minuscule but no less dramatic slam, like she would do to her bedroom when she slams the door in a fit of temper.

cw: death(???)

[flambeaux]

Lestat looks positively naughty, like a schoolboy sneaking off behind the bleachers, but Louis is committed to shunting him... wherever. He has no plan, but he spies a door, probably to an office.

Louis drinks the cocktail of Lestat's thoughts, an unfamiliar experience even when Lestat did it back home. It was not long until Lestat asked him to cross the dark divide and thereby pulled the shutter down between their thoughts. Now they don't seem to match his words, which don't seem to match his actions. And he calls Louis a library of confusion.

"So I can hear your last words to me? Haven't we done that song and dance before?" he asks dubiously. Now he looks more than pained, absolutely miserable. Claudia scratching Lestat's last words into her journal-- "Only tell me that you're still here after an attack, or let us die together."

Louis has more time to himself these nights. He has time to figure out what he'd do without Lestat's presence, even if it means nearly freezing his toes off. (Even Lestat can judge, though he is so fond of accusing Louis of this.) It was hard at first. It's hard now. Louis still doesn't know who he is without Lestat, and he thinks it must be sad that a man doesn't know who he even is.

Every time he sees Lestat, he gets all twisted up about it. Entangled, indeed. Hypothetically, there is a measure of comfort and safety to sleeping together when he visits, but at what cost?

[powersuited]

[ There's a weight to his gaze that she finds herself absorbing, even if his response succeeds in tempering the renewed spike of her anxiety. While it's a minor comfort to know that this thing — the Darkwalker, whatever it is — seems to strike once and then disappear shortly after leaving death in its wake, it doesn't mean she feels all that eased, especially when she's still experiencing the lingering echoes of the fear that had accompanied its presence.

Still, the heaviness in his expression is one that she wishes she could relieve for him, especially when they'd already sustained their own hardships back in Fabletown not too long ago. It's a more distant memory for him by comparison to what she last recalls, but it seems like there's only so long either of them can bear this level of struggle before they reach their breaking point.

She doesn't hold the same perception of who these other people are yet, doesn't know them the same way he does — and she recognizes that the pain of loss will be keener for him, as sharp and punctuating as what the Darkwalker had summoned before. ]

Why do I feel like I should be asking you that?

[ For not the first time since her arrival, she's thinking about how long he's been stuck here without any indication of when he'll be able to go home — how long he's been dealing with all of this. Surely he's had other people to confide in — she can't claim sole rights to that — but the longer she looks over him, the more she wonders how much he's been forced to keep buried inside simply because there are no other Fables here who would understand it all.

She hasn't strayed too far from him, and reaching out a hand to gently, carefully clasp his is a purely instinctive thing, grounding herself not only in that physical contact but also trying to offer him some wordless semblance of reassurance. ]

I'll be fine. [ She offers a smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes, but her hand squeezes his. ] We both will, right?

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin hesitates, casting a quick glance around as though to make sure no one is standing close enough to hear, before continuing. ]

The facility I was being held in before this... they were watching me. Studying me. Scientists, doctors, the military...

Many of us here seem to come from situations that are... abnormal. It makes sense that they would contain us all in one place.

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin had never been a particularly sentimental man. Never one to form... attachments, it could be said — for most things. Certainly not to little tangible items.

But these days... He finds himself picking up that small nevalyashka doll almost daily, to hold it in his hands, as though afraid to forget the shape of it. It hurts, what it reminds him of. But it's a bittersweet hurt, something he doesn't quite want to let go of. It's the only physical reminder he has of his son, and although the item didn't even belong to Aleksei, perhaps some part of Konstantin even equates it to the boy. Puts that sort of value on it, as though the little thing is a literal piece of the child he mourns daily.

Sometimes it might help. Or... not help, exactly; that actually seems the wrong word for it. It does something. But there's a solemn nod as Bigby says he'll simply remember the man — and that, too, is an importance of its own. Keeping someone in the memory.

He looks up again as the other offers to help him look, hesitating only a moment as he glances back to the modest living area in the back of the church. This man really could be dangerous, given he believes he's a werewolf and feeds on raw, wild animals, but.... face to face, he's never really been anything other than a bit gruff around the edges. Besides, he'd like to learn more about the other guy... what his deal is. How all of them ended up here. So Bigby's statement is a perfect segue into that, and Konstantin's smiling at him, invitingly. ]

Detective work is a lot more fun with a partner, right? [ He takes a step that way, tilting his head towards the room that the men lived in, casting a quick glance around the place. A few leftover tools, a bed, and... more of those feathers on the floor. ]

You said you did this kind of thing back home.... What exactly did you do, if you don't mind me asking?

[guidemyway]

Ruby pauses at that briefly. "Honestly this place had almost got me thinking there weren't deadly monsters lurking around like where I'm from until all this started." Might as well just be honest about that one. "But- I don't think there are many Grimm back at home that could pull murders like this." Not all Grimm were mindless but they weren't exactly subtle either.

But he did have a point there. Food was going to get scarce eventually. And they'd have to start finding other options.

"At least- We have a chance to do something about starvation. This... This is a little bit more complicated."

[solitarysoul]

[A facility where he was being held to be studied by scientists and the military. Entirely too close to what was under Prehevil, but no people were left in those.]

Wouldn't we be able to tell, though? That they were watching us.

[Tiny cameras and wireless transmission were WELL after his time.]

Just putting us in here and ignoring us doesn't make any sense.

[bigbaddy]

... Suddenly the man feels like the worst equipped person to help her, and yet the best equipped person to do so. The worst one in the sense that Bigby is absolutely no good at dealing with dramatic teenagers, which part of this definitely seems to be. The best one in the sense that he's used to the supernatural. And somewhere between her claims about the sun, and the apparent blood drinking, and the.. are those bloody tears?

Well, somewhere between all of that, she definitely is some sort of supernatural being. A vampire, likely. And he's a whole lot better in dealing with that sort of stuff than with anything remotely related to teenagers.

He inhales, trying to stay calm, even though he's definitely squatting here now while talking to a closed box. Looking like a lunatic, no doubt.

"Hey, calm down. Let's talk about this."

Bigby pauses, seeing if she emerges from the box even a little bit again, or maybe just the lid slightly going up-- but regardless of whether that happens or not, the man does speak on.

"If you're so hungry, do you think drinking regular blood would help? Rather than whatever fake blood you got?" The man is speaking about it relatively calmly, despite the subject being so otherworldly. Just another day in Bigby's life, honestly..

cw: death

[flanerie]

"I have no intention of either of us exchanging last words," Lestat says, so briskly and certainly it comes out as a bright snap like shattering rock candy.

He knows Louis well enough that his lack of insight into his mind is no obstacle to knowing exactly who he must be thinking of. Death and Claudia, the twins that haunt their every exchange.

His fickle good humour has evaporated. He looks more like a schoolboy being shuffled off for discipline than devilry, and it's no more suitable an expression for this grim occasion than what it replaced. Inside the priest's empty office, Lestat strides ahead of Louis quickly, unslinging his rifle and setting it on the desk harder than is called for. The rattle of metal on wood fills up the cold air.

Lestat strokes his hair back with both hands as he composes himself, closing his eyes briefly before he turns around, bringing a smile back to his lips.

"Funerals," he says, lightly, "Such morbid occasions."

[lilredvamp]

Jessica spends a minute sobbing, wallowing in her own misery and self-pity. It’s hard enough to be a teenager, but it’s more difficult being an eternal virgin blood sucker kind. The man speaks to her again and Jessica has to lift the lid slightly to see and hear him.

“And after what happen last night, who in their right mind will let me bite them!?” Jessica replies incredulously, wiping the blood away but only made the blood smeared beneath her eyes like some psycho warpaint. Really, who will? Jessica will be more than happy to bite the village bitch, but she already done that with her boyfriend’s mother and look how well that worked out. “Unless you want some asshole gone…”

[flanerie]

"I don't care for impotency," Lestat says, avoiding any particular stress on the terminal word that might incite a lightheartedness at odds with the tone of the night. He means it strictly in the present sense of their helplessness here - their helplessness, not his own.

'Grim', Ruby says, with the weight of a name. These monsters certainly have been that.

"And I agree that this is more complicated than I'd prefer." He sighs lightly, aiming to make it sound troubled instead of exasperated. "I'm used to the sort of predator that can be hunted down and dispatched. I suspect that this beast may be trickier than most."

He cants his head and looks at her, mild curiosity alighting in his vivid blue eyes: "It sounds as if you might know a thing or two about that."

[bigbaddy]

...

[ It's like everything else melts away for a moment when she grabs his hand like that. For how strong Bigby is - because even without being a Fable here, without really being a wolf, let alone the Big Bad Wolf, he's still pretty strong even by mundy terms - there's absolutely no resistance to it at all. He lets his hand be taken right into hers like there's no strength into it, like a tame sheep.

Because.. he wants it. There really is something so comforting in even this simple gesture of her holding his hand, in the lingering phantom feeling of the way she was leaning against him earlier. Even back home, for all the chaos that had been going on, it had all felt easier whenever she was near him.

It makes things feel simple. It makes it feel like he can just focus on her for a moment, and not think about the bigger awful situation they have gotten themselves stuck in. ]

Yeah. You're strong. [ His voice is dipping into something softer. A part of him wants to just.. say it. To let her know that he can be strong exactly because she's here with him, because she inspires him.

But it's entirely too much. He hasn't been able to say those words for centuries, why would he suddenly be able to start now? So.. ] .. and you know I'm strong too. We'll be fine.

[ He inhales. Then - slowly - exhales.

Bigby still doesn't make any move to pull his hand out of her grasp. ]

I-- You can see now why I wish you weren't here. [ There's nothing harsh about his words. He sounds worried, but not in his usual gruff way, where it's covered up with a layer of anger. Instead it just sounds plain worried. Back home things were dangerous enough, but this place? It's like dealing with the Adversary all over again, except they're even less equipped to do anything. ] .. but..

[ ...

This gets really close to what he wanted to say. It's not close enough that he can't say it at all, but it is close enough that it still makes him a little nervous to voice it when it comes to her. ]

I'm glad you're here anyway.

[ It's the truth. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ Bigby follows the other easily. Maybe that smile disarmed Bigby, or maybe he doesn't think he has anything to worry about from Konstantin. Even while they're in a relatively secluded place together with no one else present, and even though Konstantin is one of the few people in town who actually looks like he could take Bigby in a fist fight.. and even win, likely..

In fact, he doesn't even really seem on his guard. As soon as they're in the room, Bigby is looking around just as much as the other man, not even paying any real attention to Konstantin. By the time he's asked that question, Bigby is squatting next to a bunch of those feathers. ]

I'm a sheriff. [ He asks, picking up one of the feathers and holding it in his hands. ] Which also means carrying out investigations when crimes happen.

[ Even if they know the culprit in this case, ironically enough.

Bigby turns his head, holding up one of the feathers towards Konstantin. ]

I think these are Vash's.

[burying]

[ Covering up skin is hard when you're trying to be stingy with your Cover-Up mousse. Kieren's aware he looks... too pale. He can't exactly pile the stuff on, here. Not when he's got such a limited supply. At least he only has to use the stuff on his face, he can cover up the rest of his skin with clothing. ]

Yeah. [ His lips are a thin line, stood in a grim heavy silence for a long moment. He gets it. What the hell's any of them supposed to say in the face of this? Every single bit of this is just shit. He feels useless in the face of it, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. ]

It's— this is different, though. [ Not different in any kind of good way. Kieren shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. ]

Were you here, the first time this happened? About a month ago? [ A beat. ] There was only one, that time.