ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ.

macie,  much  to  her  annoyance,  spends  herself  finding  most  of  her  time  awake  in  the  lobby  where  the  power  is  consistent.  though  the  bulbs  are  not  as  bright  as  they  once  were,  it  is  better  than  attempting  to  read  and  the  power  leaving  her  room  at  odd  intervals.  she’s  grown  annoyed,  though,  at  the  constant  movement  in  the  space.  there  is  no  true  peace  that  she  can  find;  she  is  always  uncomfortable  and  always  on  edge.  her  focus  is  not  on  the  pages  in  her  hands,  her  eyes  glazed  as  she  looks  to  them  but  she  listens  to  the  footfalls  and  voices  around  her.  it  is  only  when  she  hears  someone  mention  alcohol  though  it  comes  the  convenience  store.  

curiosity  is  peaked,  her  attention  already  drawn  away  from  her  book.  she’s  quick  to  stride  over,  stepping  into  the  space  and  finding  that  the  lure  had  been  correct.  there’s  a  thrill  that  goes  through  her  at  the  options  she  is  presented.  she  can  only  drink  so  many  rum  on  the  rocks  before  even  that  loses  it’s  burn.  she  plucks  a  bottle  of  wine  from  the  ice,  cracking  open  the  lid  and  taking  a  long  swig  before  she  makes  eye  contact  with  the  other  person  in  the  room.  she  tips  her  head  back  in  acknowledgement,    “  what’cha  drinking?  ”

She must have sounded small. The scoff from the other was a testament to that indeed. It was not her intention - staying cool and collected in a situation like this was the ideal she was striving towards. Sounding scared would help no one and only serve to make people worry. Clearing her throat, she offered a weak defense: “Well, I could have been more careful, I suppose. Made my presence known, at least.”

Took her out? So the other, Macie, as she helpfully supplied, was armed. With a knife, most likely. Anke raised her eyebrows. A knife would be much more useful if one could see what they were cutting into. And, in defense of the House, it’s never tried to harm them before. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just trying to see what exactly we’re dealing with.”

Though, judging by Macie’s demeanor, she might be just as lost. “You’re right, it is Anke,” she nodded, “The accent gave it away, didn’t it?”

the  whisper  of  clothing  tells  macie  where  anke  is  standing.  it’s  been  a  long  time  since  she  has  had  to  depending  almost  solely  on  her  hearing,  to  be  aware  of  her  surroundings  when  her  sight  was  not  enough.  it  tightens  her  chest  slightly  and  she  swallows  the  panic  beginning  to  bubble  in  her  chest.      it  was  five  years  ago,  but  with  the  darkness  pressing  down  on  her  it  feels  like  it  was  just  days  ago.      “  there’s  not  going  to  be  any  seeing  for  a  while,  i  don’t  think,  ”      she  mutters  under  her  breath.  at  least  with  the  knife  in  her  hand,  there  was  a  semblance  of  protection.  she  knew  most  of  the  people  who  resided  within  this  fun  house,  but  that  didn’t  mean  they  didn’t  become  different  people  in  the  dark.      “  the  accent  gave  it  away,  ”      she  confirms,  though  the  voice  would  have  too.      “  where  are  you  trying  to  go?  ”

‘  i  have  too  won,  ’  tommy  replied  indignantly.  it  didn’t  happen  often,  so  she  did  have  somewhat  of  a  point.  ‘  i  won  rosie.  ’    the  furby  that  she  had  found  in  the  basement  that,  despite  apparently  being  something  macie  had  meant  as  a  joke,  tommy  had  taken  a  liking  to  it,  giving  it  a  name  from  one  of  the  songs  on  his  cassettes.  he  frowns  and  then  adds,  ‘  and  like,  it  can  still  be  harder,  y’know  ?  ’  his  brow  stays  furrowed  for  a  moment  longer,  lips  in  a  frown.  a  huff  of  breath.  however,  whatever  was  happening  inside  his  head  fades  when  she  snorts  at  his  bet,  and  he’s  brought  back  once  again  to  defending  himself.  ‘  yeah,  really.  i  ran  into  a  table  in  the  dark  already.  that  shit’s  important.  ’  then  she  puts  her  cards  down.  ‘  fuck.  thought  you  were  faking  me  out.  ’

  three  of  a  kind  hits  the  table.  ‘  what  ?  ’  he  asks,  but  she’s  telling  him  before  he  even  finishes  the  word.  ‘  ohh…  ’  the  syllable  is  dragged  out,  as  tommy  nods  in  a  way  where  it  seems  like  his  whole  upper  body  is  moving,  shoulders  and  neck  working  to  move  his  head  up  and  now.  then  she  switches  to  shaking  it,  a  pitying  thing,  closing  his  eyes.  he  looks  back  up  to  macie  and  says,  ‘  bummer,  dude.  that  was  a  radical  find  on  my  part.  ’

there’s  a  moment  where  her  brow  creases  and  she  looks  up  at  him,  attempting  to  figure  out  what  the  hell  he  was  talking  about.  who,  or  rather  what,  was  rosie?  it  takes  her  probably  longer  than  it  should  have  to  remember  the  furby  that  he’d  won  off  of  her  all  those  weeks  ago.  weeks  was  the  only  way  she  felt  comfortable  describing  how  time  passed  here.  years  don’t  feel  right  and  neither  does  days,  but  there’s  something  about  weeks  that  feels  right.  she  sighs  softly  when  he  says  it’s  harder,  shaking  her  head  and  just  letting  it  go. 

dark  eyes  flick  up  to  meet  his  when  he  says  that  the  ibuprofen  is  important,  a  smirk  curling  on  the  left  side  of  her  mouth  as  drops  his  own  cards.  she  pulls  the  pile  towards  her,  happy  with  the  pile  she’s  accumulated  tonight.  she  reaches  out  to  reshuffle  the  cards,  the  little  packet  of  ibuprofen  between  them,      “  take  the  ibuprofen,  tommy;  sounds  like  you  need  it  more  than  i  do,  ”      while  there’s  a  teasing  to  her  tone,  she  is  genuine  in  her  meaning.  that  smirk  shifts  and  grows  at  the  slang  he  uses,      “  well,  the  power’s  out;  should  come  back  on,  it  just  sucks  that  it’s  going  to  have  to  warm  up  again.  if  it  doesn’t,  i’m  going  to  personally  find  oliver  and  demand  a  new  one.  ”     she’s  quick  with  the  cards,  folding  them  into  a  shuffle.  she’s  learned  some  tricks  herself,     “  can  i  deal  you  in  again?  ”

          the last name.  a nickname picked up in the army.  a name that he regularly goes by now.  it bring back flashes of memories of sitting around a table, laughing and smiling with friends who didn’t make it out of the attack;  flashes of eyes who were filled with fear and terror;  flashes of bodies around him in the ocean.  fionn blinks a couple of times before his eyes focus back on the darkened visage of macie in front of him.     ❝  that’s only because you don’t play fair, sullivan,  ❞     he retorted.     ❝  you bring knives to a fist fight.  ❞     at the feeling of her hand upon his own,  he relaxed slightly.  he wasn’t fighting.  he was in the raven house hotel.  he was safe.

          fionn’s shoulders dropped after a couple of deep breaths and slowly lowered his hands.  he hoped that she knew that he wouldn’t raise a hand towards her in a negative way  —  never.  despite their radically different personalities, they manage to keep each other in check and start a tumultuous, at times, friendship.     ❝  you okay?  with the power being out and everything?  ❞

there’s  a  sharp  laugh  that  disturbs  the  silence  of  the  darkened  hallway.  she  roughly  pulls  the  fingers  of  her  free  hand  through  her  hair,  pushing  it  out  of  her  face.      “  there’s  no  promise  it’s  always  going  t’be  a  fist  fight,  ”      she  retorts  in  return.      “  i’d  rather  be  safe  than  sorry.  ”      it’s  truthful,  if  not  a  little  bitter.  she  had  that  knife  all  those  years  ago,  hadn’t  used  it  then.  it  was  bloodied,  figuratively,  now;  too  many  had  their  lives  stolen  by  the  knife  in  her  grip.

she  listens,  she  has  gotten  good  at  listening,  to  the  sound  of  his  breathing.  with  his  hand  gripped  in  hers  as  it  is,  she  can  feel  his  pulse  in  his  wrist.  between  the  combination  of  the  two,  she  can  feel  when  he  starts  to  calm  down  again.  she  gives  his  hand  another  squeeze  before  letting  go  completely.      “  i’m  fine,  ”      the  words  are  honest.  she’d  lived  in  the  dark,  spent  far  too  much  time  in  it.      “  are  you  okay?  ”      she  asks  softly. 

Rory shook his head, resting his hand on the banister and leaning back against it. “Yeah, I’m good. Nobody fell down the stairs.” He gestured with his free hand in regards to the worst case scenario. 

The thought had initially occurred to him that perhaps this anomaly of an outage could have meant the ‘spell’ of the place could have been broken, but he had quickly reminded himself that being unexpectedly released from this nightmare was possibly too much to wish for. He’d gotten his hopes up before, and was forced to remember that more data was needed.

“I was going to see if anyone had any idea what was going on. Or at the very least see if the bar is still open.” He glanced down the shadowy staircase before looking back at her. “Any interest in forming a Scooby gang?”

macie  leans  her  shoulder  against  the  wall  of  the  hallway,  a  safe  spot  to  settle  for  the  moment.  at  least  nothing  could  attack  her  from  that  side;  unless  it  was  like  the  shitty  old  horror  movies  and  the  monsters  lived  in  the  wall  or  something.  it’s  so  stupid,  but  her  weight  presses  into  the  wall  just  to  make  sure  there’s  no  give  in  it.      “  the  power  went  out,  ”      she  answers  flatly.      “  and  the  bar  literally  never  closes.  ”      there’s  no  way  to  tell  time  here.  whether  it  was  time  for  sleep,  time  to  wake  up,  or  just  the  middle  of  her  waking  hours,  the  bar  was  open.      “  i  have  interest,  but  what  character  are  you?  ”      she  asks  with  an  arched  brow.      “  none  of  them  were  really  fighters.  ”

              𝚏𝚘𝚛: @cherrydiversion​   𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: second floor corridor     –––––––    𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. the power has been cut  ––  for how long? there seems to be no way of knowing whether it’s been a few minutes or a few days, with the way time seems to loop and bend within the walls of the raven house. the darkness swallows everything. you are alone. no, you’re not. who’s there? 

mac  fumbled  for  the  doorknob  to  his  room,  supremely  disappointed  in  his  ill-evolved inability  to  function  without  a  bit  of  light.  what’s  worse  was  the  nagging  voice  in  the back  of  his  head  reminding  him  about  the  flashlight  he’d  seen  around  the  convenience store  a  few  days  back,  and  passed  by  without  a  second  thought.  that  woulda been  real  fuckin’  convenient  right  about  now,  wouldn’t  it,  mac?   once  he  finally  managed  to  open  the  door,  he  stepped  out  into  the  hallway  and squinted,  as  if  that  could  possibly  help  the  predicament  of  not  being  able  to  see  on account  of  a  building-wide  blackout.  it’s  with  a  huff  of  a  sigh  that  mac  yanks  his  room door  shut  and  turns  left,  blindly  walking  forward  and  hoping  for  the  best  –  or  for  the very  least,  not  to  trip  over  any  creepy  children.  this  whole  setup  was  a  horror  movie waiting  to  happen.  motel  hell,  indeed.  

as  soon  as  that  thought  flitted  through  his  mind,  he  saw  the  light  at  the  end  of  the tunne––  uh,  hallway.  “…don’t  tell  me  this  whole  thing  was  just  a  fuckin’  waiting  room situation,”  mac  grumbled  under  his  breath,  a  halfhearted  joke  with  the  barest  edge  of genuine  curiosity.  and…  hesitation.  no,  this  couldn’t  be  it.  could  it?  he  advanced  further down  the  hallway,  every  time  he’d  groaned  at  the  silver  screen  protagonists  for  doing what  he  was  just  about  to  do  flashing  behind  his  eyes.  he  did  it  anyway.  “…hello? who’s  there?”  

the  bowie  knife  that  had  once  been  an  unnoticeable  weight  against  her  thigh  now  became  a  comfortable  weight  and  protection  that  she  kept  gripped  in  her  right  hand.  her  fingers  folded  around  the  hilt  and  she’s  thankful  to  whatever  entities  live  above  that  she’s  kept  it  sharpened  all  these  years.  it  was  certainly  not  just  for  show.  in  her  other  hand  is  a  candle  that’s  beginning  to  melt,  the  wax  sliding  down  to  meet  the  metal  base.

it  was  stupid,  really,  to  be  gripping  onto  the  shred  of  light.  it  dulled  her  ability  to  see  beyond  the  scope  of  dim  light  the  candle  provided.  yet,  it  provided  her  comfort,  a  shred  of  control  over  the  situation.  she  now  wielded  the  basic  weapons  needed  to  survive,  fire  and  metal.  she  hears  a  door  shut  further  down  the  hall  and  it  causes  her  pause.  the  footsteps  are  audible  even  on  the  carpeted  floor  and  she  wonders  if  anyone  in  this  place  has  been  taught  to  walk  quietly,  has  ever  needed  to.  

macie’s  heart  thundered  when  she  was  alone,  though  she  would  seldom  admit  it.  it’s  when  that  voice  calls  out  from  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  she’s  certain  that  walking  through  the  door  into  that  shitty  motel  was  a  mistake.  this  was  a  mistake.  her  heart  stutters,  pulse  stopping  for  just  a  moment,  and  her  lungs  seizing.  her  grip  on  the  bowie  knife  becomes  white  knuckled  as  a  flood  of  emotions  race  through  her  at  once,  but  the  only  thing  that  comes  from  her  lips  is  a  broken      “  rohan.  ”    because  she  knows  that  voice,  even  now,  better  than  anyone  else’s.

Out of everything she had seen and experienced in the Raven House, a blackout was, perhaps, the most mundane event of them all. She was no stranger to the way the lights flickered, or how her world was suddenly plunged into darkness. Under any other circumstance, she’d simply light a candle and continue reading the novel, now left open in her hands. But this was The Raven House. Here, the darkness was unsettling. Eerie. It filled her with a familiar sense of dread. Breathe, Anke. There is always a logical reason for a blackout. 

(The weather? No, unlikely. There was no storm today.)

She opened the door and peered into the hallway. There are no emergency lights. There is no candle in her room. Dread mixes with frustration in the pit of her stomach. This situation is more difficult than she thought it would be. Fingers trailing the walls, Anke made her way towards the stairs. Someone must know more.

(It could have been a malfunction. It happened all the time in Berlin. At the most inconvenient of times, of course.)

She should have noticed the sound of footsteps behind her. In her defense, the theories her mind presented demanded her full attention, even if that meant colliding with something - a person - at the bottom of the stairs. She jolts backward, nearly hitting the wall with her back. “Uh,” her voice wavers, “who did I just bump into? Are you alright?” 

the  voice  that  came  from  the  other  was  a  little  pathetic,  the  apology  coming  for  something  that  macie  had  done.      “  i  almost  took  you  out  and  you’re  apologizing  to  me?  ”      she  scoffs,  free  hand  tightens  into  a  fist  while  the  other  tightens  around  the  knife.        “  i’m  fine,  are  you  fine?  ”      she  asks,  raising  a  brow  though  it’s  impossible  to  see  in  the  dark.      “  it’s  macie,  by  the  way.  i  think  that’s  anke,  but  i  couldn’t  be  sure.  ”

          a quick flicker caused a head turn.   a second flicker caused fionn to get up from his desk.   —  then the lights went out.   he tried to reach forward to his desk,  trying to find the candles and the lighter he had.   he was used having sometimes the power going out, especially during heavy storms.    he did always make sure that he had candles and matches.    of course,  he couldn’t find what he was looking for.   a frustrated sigh as he shuffled his way to the door.   he could tell where that was at least.

          he put his hand out against the wall,  fingers spread wide and slightly in front of him.   cautious footsteps forward,  listening for anything that could mean danger.   one step at a time.   he absolutely strained to hear anyone  —  anything.   it was so eerily quiet, like a pin could drop.

          ❝ ——   oof, ❞     he lets out the breath was held.   body tenses as he turns,  hands up in fists ready to fight.   he was war-trained and instincts honed.   fionn could take on anyone without a second thought.   survival was his main thing right now, no matter who he was going to meet and greet during this absolute darkness.  he couldn’t see who it was but the voice was higher pitched.     ❝ who are you ? ❞

although  his  silhouette  is  darkened  against  the  backdrop  of  the  hall,  she  can  see  the  shift  of  his  arms  and  the  way  they  are  braced.  it’s  a  gut  reaction  for  him,  she’s  sure.  it  stings  a  little  that  it’s  used  in  defense  against  her,  as  if  she’d  ever  hurt  him.  rather  than  using  that  knife  in  defense,  she  uses  it  to  protect  the  both  of  them,  the  blade  pointed  outward  at  her  side.      “  throw  a  punch  at  me,  macdonagh,  and  we’re  going  t’have  more  problems  than  just  the  power  being  out,  ”      it’s  not  an  actual  threat,  just  a  quip  to  break  the  tension  of  the  space.      “  besides,  y’know  i  could  take  you  on  my  worst  day.  ”      she  wonders  if  he  can  hear  the  smile  in  her  voice.  she  reaches  out  to  circle  one  of  his  fists  with  her  free  hand,  squeezing  the  knuckles,      “  breathe.  ”

time: ??? location: lobby

you needed a community to survive. bonnie had learned that before she was even weaned, before she began to speak. if your livestock die one year, if your harvest is plagued by insects and vermin, you don’t make it if your neighbors don’t step up to help. it was maybe the hardest thing about the hotel, being wrenched from her family, not knowing who here was telling the truth, what other people might have done to deserve this. bonnie had lived her life on stable soil and now far too often she felt as if she was tumbling through the air.

still clutching the items she’d been holding when the lights went off she finally made it safely down the stairway. maybe there would be more people down here, maybe even someone who knew what had happened with the lights. the candles glowing provided some relief and she hurried over to sit in their light. the room was silent for a while and she began to regret being in the light. so close to them, she couldn’t see out into the shadows, and it was as if she were all alone in the world. at last she heard footsteps and her heart leapt. ‘hello?’ she called out into the black. ‘are they- has anyone found out what’s going on?’

there  was  no  perceived  threat  within  the  raven  house  that  macie  could  find.  it  had  taken  a  couple  hours  and  a  couple  drinks  before  the  bowie  knife  had  made  it  back  into  the  sheath  on  her  left  thigh.  she  was  dependent  on  her  fists  now,  on  reacting  in  the  dark  and  being  fast  enough  to  stop  whatever  came  from  the  shadows  if  need  be.  she’s  quick  on  her  feet,  descending  the  stairs  without  a  sound  before  her  converse  hit  hardwood.  there’s  an  arched  brow  when  the  other  calls  out,  macie  can  see  her  features  illuminated  properly  by  the  candlelight  she’d  sat  herself  in.  it  seemed  dangerous,  to  lurk  in  the  light.      “  ah  —  no,  i  don’t  think  so.  ”      she  mutters  in  reply,      “  i  don’t  know  if  someone  has  been  stupid  enough  t’go  down  into  the  basement  alone;  place  gives  me  the  heebie  jeebies,  personally.  ”      she  approaches  just  outside  of  the  rim  of  bright  light,  letting  at  least  the  dim  light  illuminate  her. 

location: bar & lounge 

music cuts, lights go out; the quiet hits her first. do you know what it is like to sit in silence? you still hear tchaikovsky in your dreams. unease settles, and she washes it down with the rest of her scotch. if this malfunction is out of her hands, then at least she refuses to be scared.

someone takes the seat across from her, though she can’t make out their features in the dim candlelight, the only illumination left. and what a pathetic glow it is—for all its opulence, the raven house should sorely invest in working lightbulbs. “ i don’t suppose you are an electrician, ” she says dryly, pouring herself another glass before holding the decanter out. “ drink? ”

macie  settles,  ungracefully,  onto  the  stool  of  the  bar.  her  bowie  knife  catching  the  candlelight  as  it  clatters  onto  the  counter.  it  was  never  far  from  her  fingertips,  never  far  from  being  wielded.  she  leans  an  elbow  on  the  counter,  her  head  falling  into  an  open  palm.  this  was  beginning  to  border  on  ridiculous.  how  long  before  all  the  candles  burned  down  and  they  were  left  to  suffer  in  the  dark?  she  doesn’t  respond  to  the  question,  but  free  hand  reaches  out  for  the  decanter.  she’s  tempted  to  take  a  swig  straight  from  it.  in  the  dark,  who  would  judge  her?      “  i  need  several,  ”      she  responds  in  kind,  pouring  enough  liquid  to  be  considered  a  double  before  sliding  the  decanter  back. 

the glass which had been so idly placed in his hand moments before, had been set down somewhere in the parlour. after taking a few steps, the young man came to accept that he would likely never find it again in this lighting. and so, he abandoned it. who knew, perhaps this would be the first time something would collect dust in the raven house. a part of him was delighted to find out, another yearned for the return of his glass. alas he began his journey through the dark, fingers trailing against the wall in the hopes they would guide him toward the door. 

it didn’t bother him much– as a matter of fact it didn’t bother him at all. perhaps, he should have been more wary of what lurked in the shadows. perhaps he should have quivered, frozen or at the very least demonstrated some semblance of disapproval. instead, the young man found acceptance. this was nothing new to him– it was comforting even. comforting to know that this gilden cage didn’t function flawlessly. he learned to be wary of things that were too good to be true– for they generally housed the most twisted secrets. and this place? it was but a well-oiled machine. each gear falling into place, running effortlessly like clockwork. it seemed only natural something should go wrong. even a clock had to be rewound eventually.

lost in his thoughts the young man barely noticed another figure approaching– the moment he did, it was already too late. bodies collided and he stumbled back within an instant. icy blue hues searching for an outline, at the very least, of the person he had run into. ‘ merde ! ‘ it felt only natural for him to slip into the tongue so familiar to him when in a state of surprise, ‘ est-ce que– ‘ ah right, he wasn’t in paris anymore. he wasn’t at home… and so he corrected himself, ‘ are you ok? ‘ 

the  curse  that  passes  the  others'  lips  sends  her  spiraling  back  to  high  school,  sitting  in  a  classroom  with  guys  that  wore  too  much  cologne  and  girls  who  thought  perfume  would  make  them  more  attractive.  she  blocks  mac  from  her  memories,  it’s  not  worth  the  seizing  of  her  heart  that  she  knew  would  follow.  her  brow  creases  as  she  attempts  to  follow  the  flow  of  french  from  the  others  lips,  but  she’s  fairly  lost.  her  understanding  doesn’t  go  past  basic  on  a  good  day.  there’s  a  quiet  feeling  of  relief  when  he  switches  to  english,  though  broken.  at  least  it  was  something  she  could  understand.      “  ‘m  fine,  ”      she  mutters,  though  her  fingers  tighten  on  the  blade.      “  you  good?  not,  like,  hurt  or  anything?  ”      macie  was  fairly  certain  she  hadn’t  nicked  him  with  the  blade,  but  in  the  dark  it  was  hard  to  tell  for  certain. 

      chapter :   book  i,  chapter  i      location :   bar  &  longue      tagging :   @cherrydiversion​

‘  it’s  like,  harder  to  tell  if  you’re  lying  in  the  dark,  ’  tommy  observes,  one  eye  squinting,  the  other  shutting,  and  the  rest  of  his  face  twisting  up  to  meet  it.  as  if  that  would  help  him  think,  or  perhaps  see,  better,  and  discern  whether  or  not  macie  was  bluffing.  in  the  flickering  of  the  three  candles  that  they  had  gathered,  it  had  a  somewhat  eerily  effect,  although  more  in  the  vein  of  early  monster  movies  rather  than  something  genuinely  frightening.  after  a  second  it  returns  to  his  usual  expression  when  they  play,  the  tip  of  his  tongue  curling  just  slightly  over  his  bottom  lip.  

the  darkness  he  complained  of,  however,  was  likely  more  in  his  benefit;  he  was  better  at  card  tricks  than  actually  playing  cards,  and  tended  to  wear  his  emotions  like  brightly  colored  shirts.  he  considers  for  a  moment  longer,  before  sliding  over  a  single  dose  packet  of  ibuprofen  and  a  blowpop,  both  acquired  from  the  lobby  convenience  store,  which  he  considered  enough  to  match  her  bet.   

 macie  pauses,  mid  chew,  with  her  soft  pretzel  raised  for  another  bite  as  he  speaks.  she  prided  herself  on  a  strong  poker  face,  it  came  with  the  territory  of  her  work.  there’s  a  moment  of  silence  as  she  observes  him.  sometimes  she  wondered  about  him,  she  really  did.      “  it’s  …  harder.  ”      she  repeats  those  two  words,  cards  held  in  between  her  fingers.      “  considering  that  you  don’t  win  these,  like,  ever,  this  shouldn’t  be  more  difficult.  ”      she  pops  the  rest  of  the  pretzel  piece  into  her  mouth,  reorganizing  the  cards  in  her  hand.  it  wasn’t  the  worst  hand  she’d  been  dealt,  but  it  certainly  wasn’t  the  best.  

 she  looks  back  up  to  him  after  a  moment,  that  expression  only  shifting  to  something  more  warm  when  she  breaks  away  from  her  cards.  she  snorts,  takes  one  of  the  candle  sticks  and  slides  it  closer  to  their  hands  to  confirm  that,  yes,  he’d  just  put  down  a  single  dose  pack  of  ibuprofen.  the  blowpop  fell  well  into  their  bets   (  she’d  slid  a  baby  bottle  pop  and  a  cry  baby  forward,  and  no  that  wasn’t  pointed  ),  she  wasn’t  sure  about  that  one.      “  ibuprofen?  really?  ”      she  asks  with  an  arched  brow.  she  leans  back  into  her  barstool,      “  flush,  ”      she  says,  sliding  her  cards  together  from  the  fan  they  were  in.      “  you  know  what  sucks  the  most  about  all  this?  my  lava  lamp  doesn’t  even  work,  ”      that  was  genuine  annoyance  in  her  voice,  she  really  did  like  the  way  the  colors  lit  up  her  walls  at  night.    

Rory had always been someone who was vehemently adverse to boredom, so he had become the master of creating his own fun - a class clown responsible for more than a few grey hairs on his parents and teacher’s heads. Raven House was no different. Yes, every day seemed set to a default, but Rory still found ways to keep himself entertained. One of the ways that he’d found to entertain himself was ordering new clothes in the vaguest of terms from the front desk in order to see what he would get. Rory had never really put much thought into his clothing before, but Raven House was presenting him with a whole new awareness of fashion. Or his lack thereof. 

He had collected his latest order from the front desk earlier this morning and was trying it on in his room when the lights went out, which at least gave him the excuse of saying that he’d gotten dressed in the dark.

Dressed in a sleeveless tunic that was too large, a pair of green pants with brass trim which were too tight, and blindingly white tennis shoes, Rory stepped out into the hall to investigate if everyone else had lost power as well. It was quickly apparent that they had, and he could hear the sounds of scrambling and distress from several different directions. Luckily for him, Rory’s restlessness had kept him exploring the hotel like a hamster in a wheel for the past however-many-years he’d been here now, so his knowledge of the hotel’s general layout was well configured in his mind. 

He started towards the stairwell only to find himself colliding with another person, his hand grabbing their arm in an attempt to keep from pushing them down the next set of stairs. “Hey,” He spoke quickly, well-aware that he didn’t want or need to add to the panic of the situation. “Are you okay?” He asked, letting go of them and taking a step backwards. “I take it the entire building is out?” 

he’s  lucky  he  grabbed  for  her  left  arm,  lucky  he  didn’t  try  to  steady  her  by  her  hand,  else  he  would  have  ended  up  in  a  position  far  less  favorable.  the  metal  is  cool  under  her  palm,  slowly  coming  to  be  the  same  temperature  as  the  rest  of  her.  her  jaw  clenches  slightly.  in  the  dark  she  can  see  the  outline  of  his  form,  the  silhouette  from  the  very  little  candlelight  finding  its  way  up  the  stairs,  but  not  much  else.  she  steps  out  of  his  grasp  at  the  same  time  he  lets  go.      “  ‘m  fine,  ”      she  huffs  out.  she  was  always  fine,  that’s  what  she  had  to  be.  there’s  a  moment  where  she  thinks  about  slipping  the  knife  back  into  the  sheath.  there’s  another  body  with  her,  someone  likely  taller  and  broader  than  her.  someone  she  can  hide  behind  if  need  be  for  the  selfish  reason  of  wanting  to  stay  alive  and  not  her  lack  of  survival  skills.  she  still  keeps  the  knife.      “  yeah,  ”      she  blows  out,      “whole  place  is  out  as  far  as  i  can  tell,  can’t  even  hear  the  generators,  ”      assuming  they  had  generators.  it  only  occurs  to  her  after  there  is  a  lull  of  silence,  a  moment  to  try  to  figure  things  out,  that  she  realizes  the  polite  thing  to  do  would  be  to  ask  if  he’s  okay.  she  had  knocked  into  him,  afterall.      “  are  –  uh,  you  good  or  …  ?  ”

when  the  power  flickered  the  first  time,  macie  thought  maybe  she  was  seeing  things.  maybe  the  exhaustion  or  the  stress  or  something  had  finally  caused  her  to  snap.  but  then  it  happened  again,  and  again,  until  finally  the  power  disappeared  completely,  leaving  the  room  with  a  gentle  hum.   “ shit, ”   the  word  is  blown  out  on  a  soft  breath.  fingers  instantaneously  slide  down  her  thigh  to  reaffirm  that  the  bowie  knife,  her  safety  net,   was   still  within  reach  as  if  it  ever  left.  it  lessens  the  tightening  in  her  chest.  she  fumbles  around  in  the  dark  for  the  candle  that  is  kept  on  the  desk  in  her  room.  she’d  only  thought  it  was  decorative.  when  her  fingers  finally  find  purchase  on  it,  she  realizes  there’s  no  point.  she  doesn’t  have  a  light.

stepping  into  the  hall  does  nothing  to  help  the  uneasiness  that  has  settled  into  her  stomach.   no  emergency  lights.   what  kind  of  fucking  nightmare  was  this?  there’s  something,  maybe  it’s  anxiety  or  knowing  she’s  been  caught  in  situations  like  this  before,  that  makes  her  grip  the  bowie.  using  her  other  hand,  she  feels  down  the  wall  as  she  walks  for  the  dip  that  will  lead  to  the  stairs.  it’s  only  when  she  hits  the  bottom  that  she  runs  clear  into  another  body.   “ fuck! ”   c’mon  sullivan,  you’re  better  than  that  —  but  hey,  at  least  you  didn’t  stab  them. 

(     ZOEY DEUTCH,   CIS WOMAN,   SHE + HER    —     oh  gosh,  sorry  MACIE  SULLIVAN !  i  didn't  see  you  there !  y'know,  i  can't  believe  you're  already  TWENTY   EIGHT  years  old;  seems  like  just  yesterday  you  were  tripping  over  yourself,  or  was  that  yesterday ?  just  kidding,  just  kidding  !  anyway,  i  hear  that  you've  been  here  since  2000,  or  so  you  think;  congratulations  ! at  least  that  shining  DECISIVE  personality  of  yours  hasn't  changed  a  bit,  especially  that  FREE-SPIRITED  +  INDEPENDENT,  but  RECKLESS  +  UNRELENTING  way  about  you.  look,  i  gotta  get  back  to  the  group,  but  i'll  see  you  around  !