ONE: [ In the days and weeks since their arrival into the town of Milton, Kate doesn’t stray often from the Community Hall. It’s… a new home, of sorts. She occupies one of the cots in the hall, and stays there for the most part. Most of the time, she sleeps, or curls up on her side to lay listless with her thoughts — her spirits low. Even when she’s sitting up, reading passages from the heavily annotated copy of her bible from home in her lap, there’s a heavy melancholy to her. There was too much sorrow in her heart before she came to this place, and being stranded far from home in some frozen, desolate place does very little to help her current state of mind. She misses her family for as much as they judge her. She misses her school, for as much as it punishes her. She misses her bunny, and Max’s kind words. She misses the warmth of Arcadia Bay.

In the first few days, she does manage to venture to the general store. There’s no hope of rescue yet, it seems. But she moves on autopilot in search of basic things. Her teeth need to be brushed, her hair needs to be combed. She feels gross. Picking up a small handbasket at the store’s opening, she picks her way through the rows. Plenty have already searched here in these first few days, and some shelves seem to be lacking — but she makes do.

The pale light of the day doesn’t stretch too far into the store, and she’s squinting hard at boxes of toothpaste. She’ll jump when someone draws close, eyes wide for a moment as she takes a step back. ]

Oh. Hey, um. Sorry, you kind of startled me. [ There’s a weak, sad smile, her head tilting to one side slightly. ] Just… trying to choose some toothpaste. They don’t… have the brand I normally use.


TWO: [ On better days in those first couple of weeks, she can be found examining the vegetation about the town with a book in hand. There isn’t much she can do around here. She doesn’t know how to fish or hunt or trap. And while she can gather things like sticks for tinder and fuel for those precious first stages of firecraft, her attempts to cut through firewood with an axe is miserable at best — lacking the upper body strength to do so.

But she can learn how to forage. She can study books available and try to put that learning into practice. She doesn’t mind if she’s joined in her current search of the hedgerows before her, but she’s focused on the task at hand — not speaking all that much, flicking through the book as she examines the small red berries. ]

These things are, like, everywhere. It feels… kind of weird that things grow here. [ How can anything survive this cold weather? She looks up to the other with a wan smile. There’s a beat before she utters: ] I’m really hoping they’re not poisonous…

[ When the lights flicker on in the Community Hall, Kate lifts her head with wide eyes. It’s been so long without power and now… it’s come back? There’s a hushed disbelief, relief for some, trepidation too. There’s a soft buzz in her school satchel, and she finds that it’s her cell phone that’s turned back on of its own accord after all this time. When she checks it, she finds that whilst it’s switched on, there’s no signal to be found. The screen flickers and glitches, but maybe it's enough she thinks. Hurrying to throw on a coat, hat and gloves, she rushes out into the night — gasping at the sight above her: the air is full of noise, of music, almost. The sky is so bright, and filled with colours. She’s never seen anything like it.

She hoists her phone up high, trying to see if she can claw at some whisper of signal, desperate for service — until the flickering in her peripheral catches her attention. She’s frightened, staring for a long moment as she watches the forms of two men made of light absorbed in some heated argument. She slowly edges closer, cautiousness and uncertainty etched into her face. They’re like… some kind of ghost, maybe? Spirits? She isn’t sure. ]

H-hey—! Please, can you— [ What… is this? But her attempts to end the argument seems to fall on deaf ears. They don't even notice her. If someone comes to join her, she’ll turn her head to them in confusion: ] I don’t get it, they can’t…. hear us?

[ Although the question of if they should is something she isn’t sure on. ]

[ It comes to her as she sits on her cot in the Community Hall one evening, when everything has fallen to an uneasy if not calm hush for the night. By lantern light, she reads from her bible with a pen in hand, making little annotations here and there. Interloper, it speaks, and she visibly shudders — her head lifting in fear. Her eyes scan about the room: no one’s speaking to it, she doesn’t think. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s looking at her — but who’s speaking to her? Whose voice does she hear?

And it continues: ‘Interloper. Do you know what it means?’ It means one that involves itself in a place it does not belong. You do not belong.’

She’s visibly shaking, tears brimming in her eyes. She’s petrified. Something old and terrible and she’s frozen in her horror — the pen gripped tightly in her hand.

’Kate.’ the voice whispers, and she gasps suddenly, her eyes widening. ’I know where you were going, I know what lies in your heart. You do not matter. Your life is over. Everyone is… so disappointed in you.’ ]

… No. [ She utters it weakly, the tiniest shake of her head. Get out, stop it, get out… How does it know? How does it know? How could it possibly know?
(She already thinks this is Hell. Even with the tiny slithers of kindness she’s found. Is it really him? Has he finally come for her?)

’Yes,’ the voice answers, ’Why continue to live in your nightmare? Finish what you began. Go into the Dark.’ ]

No—! [ She cries out, jumping to her feet, the bible in her lap landing with a thud on the floorboards, the pen following with a clatter. Her hands clamp over her ears, dissolving into terrified panic. ] No, stop it. Stop it—!

closed to fidior

[ It makes little work of what remains of her, the fragile, crumbling pieces of mental fortitude she has — the little she’s gained back over the days and weeks of existing in this place. The Devil has never had an easier job. Waste. What a waste. There is nothing for her here, nothing for her back home. It’s nothing but one long, terrible nightmare — and she can’t wake up. And still the voice goads her, whispering to her as she blinks through her tears: go into the Dark.

She was only delaying it. She knows where she was going, where her feet were taking her. The voice knows it too.

But there’s a hushed calm over her, in a way. She organizes her belongings into a neat pile on her cot in the Community Hall. Maybe someone else might make use of them, a fellow violin player, or someone in need of her bible. Perhaps Mr Goodsir might like to keep her school textbooks and notebooks filled with class notes, and someone will definitely need the little extra tins of food that Thomas occasionally brings her. And with that, she heads out, towards Milton Basin.

It’s a calm day, the snowfall is light — a soft hush in the air as she walks, her arms hugging her middle. She hikes up steadily to the sharp, treacherous edges. Her wet cheeks sting from the cold, but she pushes through in that calmness. There’s no panic in her, just a weariness. A sorrow that knows no bottom and a focus on making it stop. Her feet take her close to the edge, and she stops to gaze down into the space below. It’s not the Girl’s Dormitory, with no hard concrete, but maybe it will do.

She doesn’t quite realise she’s been followed, her head turning to look over her shoulder and eyes widening at the familiar face: Lieutenant Little. Edward. She half turns, a startled panic in her eyes, one hand raised, fingers splayed. Stop. ]

Don’t come any closer—! Just… just don’t, okay? [ Why is he here? Why did he follow her? ] Stay away from me—!

[ Her expression crumbles, and she falls silent for a long moment. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t need to see this. And she feels all the more like crap for it, just one more shameful thing. Her head turns back to the precipice, gazing off it. The voice wills her to move, the uncertainty keeps her in place. ]

Do… do you think it would be enough? Or— or do you think the snow would… would it keep me alive?

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