𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖒,

HE HAD BEEN IN THE MIDDLE OF HAVING A DRINK WHEN HE REMEMBERED - the memories had come back slowly (what he had been missing all along, the very same thing that had kept him awake at night for the past few months) and.. it turned out he shouldn’t have been worried about evelyn at all, because.. it wasn’t her who was in D A N G E R, thank god for that. it had.. it had been him.. he was dead, he was fucking dead and.. for a moment, edgar couldn’t breath. he was a fucking dead man walking - just like the bodies plastered around for other people to see and.. his day were counted, he knew they were. that was why he couldn’t breath, that was why he couldn’t sleep lately.. why he couldn’t rest, because.. he knew something was wrong. he had always known something was wrong, he just.. didn’t know what. he left his drink right there and moved somewhere else (somewhere he couldn’t be found, somewhere where no one could see his breakdown - he was fucking dead.. after all these years, after everything he had done.. he had been taken out by a fucking mole - by alice fucking cooper), leaning against the nearest wall, gasping for air, because it was.. it was as if something had been taking his breath away all over again. you’re fine - he reminded himself, shaking his head. you’re fine, you’re alive and.. then, he looked down, unbuttoning his shirt and.. of course.. of course the scar that he had believed to be a birthmark until now was..  the bullet that had killed him. he had been so lost.. so lost that.. he barely heard footsteps approaching him, right until the person was standing right next to him. “get away from me,” he whispered, hands clutched into fists. “get away from me or i swear to god you’re gonna regret ever coming to this goddamn party.” he didn’t even care, because.. who could hurt a dead man walking?

      el takes note of edgar’s melodrama , though she hasn’t any intention of intervening. or staring , the way other people seem to be. she’s at her first halloween party — she’s going to have fun. she approaches , only to reach the refreshments behind him. but just as faux carrie white sets down her bloody bouquet of roses on the table , a threat reaches her ears. any good feelings she might’ve had prior to it melt from her expression. el’s attention snaps towards edgar , her eyes swelling with irritation. if there’s anything she has no tolerance for , it’s grown men with barks bigger than their bites. without moving a muscle , telekinetic forces grab edgar by the throat and shove him against the back wall — hard. she holds him there for a moment. it isn’t until her blood stains the inner rim of her nostril that she finally releases the resurrected man. she doesn’t bother wiping it — if anything , it enhances her costume. to answer your question , edgar: eleven. eleven could hurt a dead man walking. 

     the sound of patty’s screams of terror grab hope’s attention , though that’s as far as her interest piques. she isn’t heartless — just very , very aware she’s at a horror house on halloween night. still , there’s something.. off about it. but she tells herself she isn’t falling for any tricks tonight. hope forces herself to listen to the music instead , but her attention continues to glide back towards the distressed widow. against her better judgment , she glances over her shoulder , unexpectedly locking eyes with patty. shit. the dainty woman looks terrified. a sense of conflict washes over delicate features. the teenager’s jaw clenches as she forces her attention forward once more , trying to ignore the thousand of goosebumps popping up over her skin. it lasts less than ten seconds before she chucks her cup in the garbage , and turns to face patty — completely this time. ❝ i don’t wanna say this better be happening — but this really better be happening , ❞ hope mutters to herself before she starts crossing the ballroom to get to the brunette.

the fanciest party of the year, and quite possibly of the century, and rory gilmore is nowhere to be found. unable to contain her curiosity in such a large, beautiful manor, she began exploring early in the evening. just a quick look upstairs- that’s all she said she was doing. but an hour later and she’s made herself at home in the gigantic study, with her nose buried in a first edition ulysses she found on one of its shelves. she had been so caught up in the magic of the rare book that she hadn’t noticed people were being murdered, or that a sadistic game had started. when rory hears the door to the study open, she quickly pulls herself out of the executive chair, gathering her costume props. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry! i know, i shouldn’t be in here. but the door was open and then i saw all the shelves and i just-” nope. it wasn’t constance. when rory locks eyes with them, she presses her hand to her heart. “oh thank God.” 

      lorelai’s interest in this giant game of clue is fleeting at best. don’t get her wrong , she loves the production value of this deranged show , but she’s not really one to sing for her supper. when she wanders into the study , it’s mostly just to escape the rest of the party. she needs a minute to breathe.. and adjust her costume. ❝ tight , ❞ lorelai grumbles , trying her best to fix her crotch without actually fixing it , if you’re catching her drift. ❝ why did i go with tight ? ❞ however , the sound of a voice startles her. ❝ oh — oh god ! you won’t get me ! ❞ the faux wonder woman yelps , jumping 2 feet out of her skin. she tries to grab whatever’s closest to use as a weapon which is.. absolutely nothing. if the axe bitch was in the room , she’d be screwed. but luckily rory’s relief puts lorelai at ease. ❝ is wonder woman allowed to piss her pants ? ‘cause if not , i think i’m fired. ❞

      oh , alec. poor , sweet , naive alec. there isn’t a patient bone in lorelai’s body , especially when caffeine is involved. though , in contrary to popular belief , she wasn’t raised in a jungle — so she’s capable of faking it. ❝ get me a spoon and a lighter and i’ll shoot the beans and save us both some time , ❞ she promises. gentle chuckles slip between the spaces of her words. of course she always laughs at her own joke.  seconds later , she straightens up , wiping most of the amusement off her expression. ❝ but if that’s as inappropriate as i’m just now hearing that sound , i’ll just take your strongest black coffee. ❞

      money is the last thing eurydice wants to waste. if her job hadn’t been on the line , she would’ve let the tear in her uniform grow & grow until it became a health hazard. but alas , he she is: desperately seeking a cheap , quick fix. ❝ it’s not very exciting , ❞ the songbird warns as she drapes her garment bag on the desk — inside is a petite pair of gray overalls , with one button missing & a giant tear down the leg. ❝ got caught on an exposed nail when i was moving boxes around. ❞

      ❝ awful bold of you to assume there aren’t dead people buried everywhere , ❞ ellie offers up , oh so helpfully as she maneuvers her way through the cemetery. it doesn’t really bother ; growing up post - apocalypse , everywhere you walk is on someone else’s grave. it’s just not something you let yourself think about. ❝ come on ! dude , you promised i would get a good seat. ❞