we are outnumbered

milo gave trystan's head an attempt to be comforting pat on the head before he was upright and walking beside them again. "that is reasonable, i suppose but if i'm to understand correctly, they have gone the traditional route versus using radiated or medical mutations for the most part." which meant it was just an anomaly of nature, a talent, or a facade made for entertainment. if that was the case, milo was one hundred percent interested to see what was inside those tents.

"like strange plants, organs, whole creatures sometimes it's all possible i suppose." they shrugged not sure what to list off and they felt the further they got into it the less likely they were to have his company anymore. he wouldn't be the first and judging by milo's lack of social circle, he likely wouldn't be the last either. "just weird stuff, i don't know. but i don't have a lot of friends either, obviously so i'm happy to stick with you as long as i can manage to stand the people. what do you want to do here?"

"Oh... well, a traditional route could be fun. Like bearded ladies and conjoined twins?" Trystan marveled. "I guess taking a little peak wouldn't hurt... I can always just leave if I don't like it, right?' He didn't want to leave Milo alone, but he doubted the other would enjoy things if he was in the middle of a panic attack.

"Whole creatures? Like a two headed snake or something?" He wasn't disgusted; in fact, he was a little intrigued. "Or a whole heart? I've always wanted to see one. I've seen drawings, obviously, but wouldn't it be cool to see one in front of you?" He grinned. "We can check out the freak show. And then, when we're feeling overwhelmed, we can take a snack break, or just go home."

CLOSED STARTER FOR @backmaskcd, ANIKA + TRYSTAN. outside of hell's gate.

"I'm not being weird about it," Trystan whined - though he kind of was. He nervously clutched her hand in his, a mixed look of dread and excitement on his face. "I just don't.... know if anyone other than you wants me here." He was thinking of someone specific, but he didn't need Anika to tease him about anything else right now." His stomach growled almost as if on cue, and he let out a short laugh. "Yeah? You think so? No one's gonna be gatekeeping the buffet to make sure riff raff like you and me don't gobble it all up?"

He chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment. His costume wasn't really anything impressive; mostly just a pair of vampire teeth. He thought he looked kind of nice though, for once. The teeth suit him. Maybe they offset his snake eyes; but all the same, he felt good about himself for once. "Okay, okay. But that means you can't abandon me to flirt with anyone."

"I suppose it's not fair to compare us as twins to two people who didn't come out of the same womb," Xan mused. "And you better not let me sink or I'll drag you down with me." They shook their head. "Phantom limb is when you get your arm or leg cut off, but then you can still feel it there sometimes. So like, if one of us died, I think we'd still always be able to feel the other, even if we weren't there anymore. Which would be really inconvenient cuz it would make me sad to remember you're not there anymore." She let out a soft sigh. "I know. My headache is just pulling at the edges of my brain and I'm really looking forward to just relaxing in the quiet. Or at least, the quiet with our voices."

FOR A MOMENT, ELLIS ONLY STARED, blinking through the haze of neon and alcohol until recognition finally clicked. The realization hit like a sobering jolt, cutting clean through the fog in his head. The St. James family had struck him as decent people -- skittish, kind, trying to stitch a life back together after being buried for so long. And Bart… well, they were a good kid, and far too gentle for a place like Hell's Gate.

Bart's calm reply made him snort despite himself. Sacrificial lamb -- it shouldn't have been funny, but the earnest way they said it, so completely unfazed, sent a small, tipsy laugh tumbling out of him. "Yeah, I, uh… guess that makes me the wolf, then. Sorry." He leaned an elbow against the counter, lowering his tone so Bart could actually hear him over the music. "I didn't think I'd run into you here. Figured your folks might keep you clear of all this chaos."

They simply blinked at Ellis as it seemed like he needed a minute before his brain caught up, letting out a soft laugh. "Well; maybe. As long as you don't bite me or slit my throat, I think we can still manage to get along." Ellis seemed to always want to make himself available. It was nice, if a little suspicious. But Bart was suspicious of just about everyone, so it wasn't personal. He shook his head a little. "It's okay."

"I'm twenty two, yeah," they shrugged. "Not really, I guess. I've snuck some of whatever people would make in the vault. It was really gross though. I kind of just.... thought maybe it would be fun to see what people do. Like, regular people. So.... I don't know. Maybe just a beer?"

she laughs, and it's a light sound, easy, not too sharp. this entire bullshit festival is doing it's job, at least a little bit on her, because she doesn't feel the weight of the stress of regular life weighing on her so heavy that she can't break free of it. no, this is fine, she's having fun and feels light and can allow herself a moment to feed into the propaganda.

The sound of Delia's laugh made Trystan's heart crawl up into his throat, but he refused to acknowledge it. The last thing he wanted to do was be a burden on her, and if he kept putting his feelings first, he would be. So he just smiled, clinging to the knowledge that at least she was having fun and could say she was happy.

"Oh no? Well, I guess I can take comfort in that. I haven't lived with anyone in a really long time, so I'm not even really sure how to be a roommate. And I feel bad that I can't pay you rent. Do you want me to? I can figure something out, maybe pick up some more shifts at Mable's or something." He mused to himself. "But I'm just glad you're not sick of me. I thought maybe.... if people had to put up with me all the time, they wouldn't like me as much. Which is why I tended to disappear as soon as I'd show up."

ELLIS TRIED, FOR MANY YEARS, TO LIVE IN HIS GRIEF. To carry it as something to be grateful for, for the memories and the love that predated it. But how could he be grateful for memories he never got to experience after being separated from his family? How could he remember the love without acknowledging the hollowed out ache of all he lost in his chest, too? So, he tried to live around it. To build a life that curved gently to avoid it, to carry the weight without looking directly at it, and on the good days, he could even forget it was there.

But eventually, no matter how well you think you've contained it, it finds you. It finds you on quiet days while the walls creak with the wind when you're alone with just your thoughts, and it finds you in the middle of a festival surrounded by laughter and warmth. Afterglow had dragged his past into the light and set it loose right here, in the middle of the crowd, where he couldn't run or hide. It stared him in the face as a grown man, not as a ghost and not as the boy he knew, either.

His arms were tight around Denny's shoulders as if his grip alone could make up for years of absence. His heart hammered against his ribs like it was trying to climb out of his chest and apologize for him. "I saw your file," he said finally, voice breaking like he hadn't used it in years. "They-- they told me you were dead." He swallows, breath stuttering against his brother's hair, only able to speak loud enough for him to hear. The teeth in his shoulder made him tense, but the sound that came out of Ellis was half a laugh, half a sob. "Yeah," he rasped, voice thick. He couldn't bring himself to ask how, or why. Not yet, at least. It was too fragile in his hands -- he still wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming. "Yeah, okay. You're real. I believe you."

You're the one who left. It stopped him cold, the words he'd told himself over and over for years culminated right in front of him as his worst nightmare -- his greatest failure, his little brother. You're the one who left.

Denny never got to grieve. All he felt was anger; rage. Betrayal. Abandonment. Any time he was sad, a surge of anger overtook him, and the cycle repeated. Somehow, it felt like his fault. All of it. If he was just normal, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe James wouldn't have left him. Maybe Afterglow would have left him alone. The only thing he didn't blame himself for was the death of their parents. They were like that far before he was born.

He wasn't sure how he felt about James touching him. On the one hand, he was so touch starved it almost hurt. On the other, the object of his rage was living and breathing in front of him, and he wanted to knock his teeth out. So instead he just moved when James did, only keeping the contact that was given to him, and nothing more; like he didn't even really know how to.

"I'm not. Did you even bother to look? It's not like I was hiding. You were just too busy," he mumbled. His tone was like that of a neglected child, accusing their family of not looking out for them. And that's exactly how Denny felt. "You were always too busy. You never had time for me. Maybe that was just an excuse for you to stop caring." It was how he felt. The years passed, and Denny rarely saw his brother, and he was told James was too busy. But he had never been too busy for him before, and Denny had doubts.

He let his brother hold the back of his neck, but just shrugged. "I guess you were a really good soldier then. But I'm not dead; I never was. I'm not kept under lock and key, either."

Until the attention was back at him from Narcissa, he tensed up slightly at first, hearing her call him out, the heightened anxiety hadn't fully left from that survival instincts yet so he quietly nodded turning back to the people in the shop with a small bow of apology and a murmured almost inaudible sorry, holding himself long enough until they reached the storage. "I know..." it was almost a sulk, if to anyone mostly to himself, "I didn't want you to have to deal with it.. I just-- I know you're working on the schedule and all, I.. sorry," Tomas sighed, finding more ease in the quiet of just them now. "--thank you though.. she was so mean," it was a soft and quiet pout but pout nonetheless, wiping away the wetness in his eyes that built up overtime from the whole thing to finally being in a safe space again.

"I don't know Nissa... it's the same recipe, I've been making them even while my parents were running it. I make new things but I never touch the.. the staples," he couldn't help but let the self doubt fester, "do you think.. -are we doing something wrong?"

"I'm not mad - at least, not at you. But there's no reason to put yourself into those positions when you don't have to. Yeah, I was working on the schedule, but as long as it gets done by the end of the day, I can be pulled away. Seriously, with things constantly happening, you'd think that people would have a little more compassion around here." Letting out a frustrated huff, Narcissa shook her head. "They're all lucky I don't start throwing punches."

She stopped to face Tomas directly, shaking her head. "No. I don't. I think that people just want to complain to get free stuff. That's a tale as old as time. You know how they're made. People just love to do whatever they can to take advantage of others. Do I need to run and drag Mercury in here so you stop doubting yourself?"

Perhaps the best part of patrol is getting away from Afterglow, but unfortunately, 'patrol' is a catch-all, an umbrella for a series of security performances, and not all of them are made equal, in Devan's opinion. This particular one is a simple perimeter patrol, the kind where he's alone with his own damn thoughts and he has to hug close to the perimeter of the compound, as the name suggests. After all, even the higher ups wouldn't needlessly throw away well-trained troops to whatever the woods of Devil's Elbow have to offer by sending them in all by their lonesome.

When they had noticed this is to be a solo job, they knew what the job would be, and they were already dragging their feet.

Nothing usually happens during perimeter patrol. Or, nothing used to happen during perimeter patrol. Ever since the protests have flared, with people trying to get onto the compound to harass the staff and their families, there have been more than a few incidents. Perhaps that's what has Devan on edge as he sees a person-shaped shadow duck into a bush before he can properly shine his torch in the direction.

Moving towards where the shadow disappeared, Devan raises their rifle in their hands, finger resting on the side of it, rather than the trigger—this is a warning, after all, not a threat. Before he can even make a command for the individual to come out, they do so on their own.

He doesn't lower the rifle. "The fuck you doin' here?"

Narcissa let out a sigh as Devan kept the rifle trained on her. "I'm unarmed, unless you count my lock picking kit. I'm doing the same thing I'm always doing here. Looking for answers. About the way they always seem to know how to figure out how to help when disaster strikes. About the bunker?" She raised an eyebrow. "About that.... whatever. That seems to be tearing people apart? If anyone is going to have answers, it's people in there. I'm not stupid enough to even try to bring a weapon, doing this is dangerous enough as it is, I don't need to add a real crime to my long list of misdemeanors."

⛧ OPEN STARTER; HELL'S GATE / SAMHAIN SOIREE ( 0 / 5 ) ellis ward + open

IF ELLIS WAS BEING HONEST WITH HIMSELF -- and tonight, with the whiskey humming in his veins, he was feeling dangerously close to it -- he wasn't built for places like this. He hadn't even planned on showing up, not really, and he'd told Angel as much when she first floated the idea, but she'd convinced him anyway with that dangerous grin that meant she already knew he'd cave -- he never could tell the people he loved no, not when it was something as harmless as this. He wasn't the type for crowded rooms or costume parties, and Hell's Gate on an ordinary night was already loud enough to make his skin hum. And yet, here he was. Ellis spent years in the army, put through situations men would sooner break from, so in the grand scheme of things, a Halloween ball was nothing to blink at.

Before he could so much as protest, she'd wrestled him into a black suit, fitted within an inch of its life, the fabric clinging to the breadth of his shoulders and tapering clean down his frame, and the makeup -- a careful streak of deep red across his cheekbones, subtle horns painted into the line of his temples with metallic powder. Ellis' second thoughts vanished the moment Angel had smiled at him.

Somewhere between the Gluttony floor's endless buffet and the Envy floor's ocean of costumed bodies, he'd lost JD to the crowd. He'd convinced him to tag along, mostly because Ellis couldn't just let him sit alone at the Ink Well while everyone was out -- and, to be frank, he knew the younger man needed a break. He figured JD was fine, and he knew they'd find each other again before the night ended -- Ellis hoped he was having fun. God knew someone should.

He wasn't sure what it was that finally made him stop fighting the current. Maybe it was the alcohol -- he'd had more than he should've, enough for the edges of the night to feel soft and blurred. Maybe it was the music, the way it pulsed through the floorboards, steady as a heartbeat. Or maybe it was that quiet voice in his head whispering that for one night, he could stop thinking about everything else. The festival had brought back that hollow ache that came with remembering he couldn't save everyone -- Denny, stuck in Afterglow, Dabney and his blackmail, Ashton's tentative friendship. He could talk to Santi, maybe. Try to work something out. But not tonight, and not here, as his big frame stumbles through the crowd. Tonight, he just wanted to be Ellis -- not James, not a deserter, not someone carrying a weight he couldn't put down. Just a man in a ridiculous suit trying to feel human for a few hours as the burn of whiskey churns down his throat.

The envy floor was alive with color as he nursed his drink at the bar with one elbow propped on the counter, gaze drifting lazily across the room. The makeup on his cheek had smudged a little from where he'd run his hand across his face earlier, and the suit itched against his skin to the point where he'd tugged his tie loose, but he didn't care. Every so often, a dancer would swing by and flirt, and Ellis would deflect with a boyish grin and a polite decline. He was halfway through another sip of his drink when someone brushed past him a little too close, and just like that, gravity betrayed him. Cold liquid splashed over his wrist, then his shirt, then -- god help him -- the person standing next to him.

Despite the protests of their parents, Bart had slipped out into the night to experience whatever was happening at Hell's Gate. They wanted so badly just to be A Normal Person ™️ and the easiest way to do that was to actually go to things normal people went to.

They were almost immediately overwhelmed by everything in the club, which was exciting and scary. Everyone was dressed up, and Bart had done their best to put something together. It had to be explained; to be sure. But the white oversized shirt and leggings paired with the headband they had asked to be made with the soft ears was maybe enough.

They hadn't meant to bump into Ellis; they flinched as the man spilled his drink on them, though shook their head in response. "It kind of works. I'm supposed to be a sacrificial lamb. I think the point gets across better this way." They shook their head, soft curls fanning around their face. "Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"