Evie

I'm trying to pin down what decade it might be set (hard to do when its mcyt-ers lol). Bigfoot wasn't really a thing until the mid 20th century which threw me off, but I think its actually set sometime in the 19th century. (which has me so hyped because you could totally write a sequel set another 200 years later, aka a few years from now). So I'm thinking of the era as an alternate reality 1830's?? maybe??? Im defo pushing it at early as possible BECAUSE of the sequel idea (it could reasonably be set early 1900's) but i cannot be stopped

Shubble mentioned her friends seeing photos of bigfoot and the 1830's cameras were super slow, so it would have been SO unbelievably blurry - which matches her own descriptions. Cameras dont even need to be particularly portable or common if its just friends hyping each other up over a rumor so could even be the 1820's??

Cleo does one last sweep of the perimeter before heading home. People have headed their warnings, they can tell even without looking that silver blocks have been scattered around and people's breaths smell of garlic. It makes their head spin, their stomach turn. Good. Keep the monsters out, four of them at least. Apo is probably somewhere shivering in what used to be her and Pyro's home and is now barely hers. Only until they all find out, Cleo thinks.

And what will become of Cleo herself, then?

Her teeth ache. She never thought that being undead would be this painful. All they can think about is the sound of the heartbeats that fill this town, dwindling in number one by one. As they head back home, they hear Martyn and Sausage and Abolish and-

Pearl's heart is so loud. She must be awake. Cleo shuffles towards the door, hand wrapping around it before realizing she cannot pull it open. The sign next to it reads mockingly "Cleo and Pearl's home".

"No one comes in without asking or I kill them!" They insisted, sword swinging wildly. The other towns folk scattered, sputtering apologies.

Cleo can't come in without asking. So they knock and listen for that (delicious) heartbeat to come closer, for Pearl's delicate footsteps on that wooden floor she had spent so much time on. Their stomach churns as the door opens. Pearl smiles at her, bright and relaxed like they haven’t all started barricading their homes. Cleo would have climbed in through the windows like she had at the bar, but Pearl has already boarded them up.

“What are you doing knocking silly? We make other people ask for permission, you don’t have to,” Pearl tilts her head, hair falling back over her shoulder.

Cleo stares at Pearl neck. It is slender and pale and all too inviting and they can hear her heartbeat as though it was in their own chest (where there never will be one again, not after today). The ache is back, along with that unquenchable thirst, and it begs them to sink their teeth in. They won’t. They can’t. They will kill everyone else in this town, turn them all for whatever agenda Owen has, but Pearl has done nothing to deserve this. No one will touch her while Cleo has any say in it.

She tries to laugh and feels it sitting low in her chest.

“It’s still nice to ask anyway. Can I come in, Pearl?”

Something like recognition flashes in those blue eyes. Like she’s realized something. If there is one thing Cleo has realized, it’s that Pearl isn’t nearly as dumb as the other townsfolk seem to think. She has seen some horrible things, betrayed by the hard lines of her muscles and the experienced way she grips a sword and the haunted look she gets when the wolves howl at night. Pearl’s smile drops, tightens. She looks like she’s about to cry. But she answers anyways.