i saw the tv glow

" if i hear one more ' i'm sorry for your loss ' . . . another mcneil is gonna end up either dead or in jail. whichever happens first. "

Jude felt most of Helltown moved listlessly through the fundraiser; games were indulged without an ounce of mirth, blood draws rendered painless in the wake of shock -- he, a man who was best gratified but the unknown, unsure of how to navigate such an influx of discovers. Shuffling his sneakers in a school boy fashion, a hat pulled across his fresh (and once more, poorly cut) bangs, Jude drifted to Elodie's side without motive -- he was unsure of what to say, unsure if he could dare to speak. "I promise, I'm not here to offer sympathies. Or prod you for information, or ramble on about theories, in my usual way. We could talk about anything really -- that new Twisters movie, or whether it's time for me to finally give up the mullet." Jude had no mastery in the art of fraught, fragile conversations where stark reality was to be avoided at all costs. He knew she was tired; she of all people, wouldn't want to talk about it. Part of him felt unsure of how to indulge in trivial topics, when the truth demanded to be spoken; but he would endeavour, for her. "There's that saying that things like this are the way the light gets in, but I'm not quire sure that's true anymore."  

"I'm telling you right now, if someone comes near me with a needle I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." Percy said to anyone nearby that was willing to listen, quickly looking over his shoulder as he placed a cigarette between his teeth. "I feel like the whole blood drive thing is kind of in poor taste, right?" He questioned, though he was planning to do everything in his power to get the thought of six dead bodies out of his mind — he couldn't deal with another one — the cigarette was only the beginning.

"I'm fairly certain the cigarette's going to make anyone second guess stealing your blood -- unless you're a universal donor. What's your type?" The poor taste perhaps lay most in Jude's attempts at a light, genial tone; but he found little productive in indulging his more morose thoughts. Jude stood still as a statue, watching residents engaging in displays of grief and shock; his eyes narrowed, hoping to discern who among them played for the crowd alone. "It is in poor taste but... I don't know what else would make anyone feel better. We can't exactly risk a candle vigil, can we? Considering the last time we all got together and there was fire involved."

"trust that i am not taking any offense in how you're responding now, jude. i can only imagine what everyone has been through tonight." antoinette couldn't put to words how misery is painted in his eyes, and couldn't help but be curious. though at this point, she chose not to delve it, not have him recall it all. she herself was terrified of the details. his question though, makes antoinette repeat the question to herself. "i...in my head i do wish for people's misfortunes at times, but when does happen, i--" she takes a deep sigh. "it's what makes us human, in fucked up ways, we think those things to ourselves and when we see it--the most humane way to react to it is realize how...how fucked up you've thought of that. but that doesn't make it your wrong, jude."

"Were you there for any of it? I still don't even fully understand what I saw." Jude's fingers drum against the wood table top incessantly, his mind returning to that scene, over and over. It had been a manifestation of evil that veered beyond comprehension --- his mind, already far too rife with questions to ever be considered useful, felt unnaturally quiet. "Like rude customers eating shit in the parking lot after they leave? Because I think wishing for that is just aspiring for divine karma. But this....I've just been wanting proof for so long, you know? That there's something dark in Helltown most people ignore. And now I have it, and part of my wishes I didn't. I don't know whether to think I pushed things to be true, or my misguided views were horribly correct."

               "  oh,   please,   don’t remind me the moments you’ve pissed me off,  "     she bites,   however,   the hidden smile that tugs and tugs at her lips,   threateningly,   almost uncontrollably,   takes most of the edge out of her answer because even when it’s true they often get mad at him,   staying mad at their boy is an excruciating task   —   there is always a charming smile,   a mocking reply,   pleading eyes and gentle expression making her give in,   give up,   reminding her the raging affection she’s felt for him since the moment they met.   with a soft punch to his arm,   rowan shakes her head.     "  of course i’ve missed you,   it’s been too long without being completely annoyed by someone.   one grows fond of those things,   you know ?  "     amusement permeates their tone as they shove the bag of mushrooms in their jacket’s inside pocket once more,   and their eyes roll at jude’s words,   at the taunting.   she feigns a short-lived irritation,   and follows him into the cemetery,   handing him the flask full to the brim with their preferred venom.    "  well,   i’ll have to see that with my own,   pretty eyes.   mrs.   macy doesn’t seem the type to interrupt her eternal rest,   though,   but i’m not gonna lie—   it’d be rad to meet her.  "     as they reach their destination,   the first where they usually start their cemetery shenanigans,   rowan extends her hand to get her flask back while she sits down on mrs.   macy’s tomb.     "  good night,   mrs. macy,   it’s us,   we’re not gonna bother you that much,   just here to...   you know,   get high and drunk as usual.  "     her words carry a hint of flippant energy,   yet they’re also charged with the strange ghost of respect.   she likes to wreak havoc around the place,   but she knows better than to mess with the dead.

"Or when I tried to get you that waitresses number and I ended up spilling that water all over her..." It would be a fair assessment that his own romantic ventures often cascaded into ruin, and thus he was no worthy matchmaker; but Jude smiled sheepishly now all the same, intent on making such a stand once more. He, Jude, the well-meaning droll -- Rowan, lady lazarus who ate men like air, would never be parted no matter the vexing antics he indulged in; even when a gulf had laid between them, his fondness for them had not dulled. Part of him had existed terrified that Rowan's departure would alott her the breathing room to know that he was a misguided excuse of a person; that she was made of a finer mettle, and time would be spent with anyone else. In the dark, another smile brushes across Jude's face --- he is happy she missed him too. "Oh sure, who wouldn't miss that bit of gum that won't just leave their shoe? But I know you spent every moment we were apart thinking of my incredible wit and well-groomed bangs."  He takes the flash from her readily, wasting no time in removing the lid and tasting its contents; he hopes Rowan's eyes are too mesmerised by the death scene to notice him wince slightly. The first sip was always murder, before it became utter delight. "I bet she knows all of the towns secrets....though if she rose from the dead, she'd probably remember when we sat by her grave and I told you how I puked after making out with that girl in tenth grade." It'd been an ill-advised chugging of old, overly warm beer, that had prompted his ghastly expelling of his guts; but the moment had cemented Jude's tragic affinity to derail his romantic ventures. He wants to question Rowan whether she has gathered a bevy of admirers once more, but he'd like to let the mushrooms take a hold of them first before he unloads his eager questions. Notcing Rowan's gesture, Jude gives back the flask, taking his familiar spot before the gravestone. "Hello, Mrs. Darcy -- I hope you've been well. I'm hoping for our usual high-brow antics, and maybe if you're there -- you can answer a few questions for me." 

“You look very handsome tonight..." She cooed amidst the rare moment of privacy as the heels of her boots clicked against the pavement towards the emerging horizon of a bonfire and all that was to come.

Samson had crawled all the way, leaving the torturous fray of chaos to the safety of the tree line --- strange sounds had followed him, hollowing his ears with their ghastliness. Struggling to stand, his eyes can only see trees, their arms swaying in a night without wind. The sacrifice had brought nature to an utter stand still; there was no breeze, and yet the trees convulsed, as if acting under their on volition. Samson choked, wanting to either scream or cry but having the energy for neither. An apparition appeared, emerging from the darkness before it -- a darkness more solid than the shadows of the night.  "Evelyn."  His fears dissipated at once, and he lunged for her figure, capturing her in an embrace that left no air between them. Samson knew his wife would likely look at him with scorn or suspicion, demand for him to name whatever transgressions had labelled him traitor; he would weather her words for a thousand days, if it meant he would enjoy the comfort of her within his arms. He could not help but tremble, his darkest fantasies come alight that night -- the darkness that had long shadowed Helltown had emerged in an angry rush. All present that night had felt it. "Evelyn....you have to believe me. I don't know what I did....unless they meant what happened in Florida.... Evelyn I swear to you. I do not know who I have betrayed -- but that person could never have been you." Burrowing his face into her wonderful mass of flaming hair, Samson quietly considered his missteps; he had tried to be so good. He had betrayed God, perhaps -- but there was no God that night. 

"here, looks like you need it more than i do." there's really no solid news yet of what really had went down at the summer solstice, but it seemed enough for antoinette to conclude to herself that whatever may have happened, it was a sight nobody deserved to see. she knew that there was always something strange in this town, a place she grew up in, but as of late, the dancer knew it was more than just the feeling that engulfed this place. she moved close, cautiously to sit beside the other person. "anything i can do? keep the drinks coming, or something else? just tell me what you need, babe. i got you."

"Thank you....that's nice." The night had wrought an agonising depression over Jude, leaving him awash in a strange fever of nerves. He couldn't be sure how long it had lasted --- but it had sufficed to wring his whole frame with anguish, and award him a nameless experience of terror. All of this, would pain him to convey to Antoinette in languid details; Jude studied her carefully, unsure of how he could justify eroding her comforting, peaceful expression. "The company is nice -- and it's very boring that the only word I can come up with is nice, but I mean it. I don't know what to think, really. Have you ever wished for something, then had it happen, only to realize you were wrong to want it?" 

" — audrey ?? " emilio called out, getting knocked around like a pinball machine as he barreled through the chaos in search for his wife. panic was ripe on his features, eyes wide and burning like the flames that only seemed to grow with each limb it consumed, smoke pluming in a thick cloud and the horrendous smell of burning flesh. " AUDREY ?? " he cried out again, nearly getting knocked to his feet, mist veiling his eyes from both wild fear and the thick smoke burning them. " my wife , " he pleaded to the first person he could find, grabbing them by both their biceps. " my wife. please — have you seen her ?? she's . . . she's short. red hair. hard features. her names audrey. "

There was no way for Samson to maintain composure under these circumstances; it was beyond the foulest horrors of his dreams. He struggled, stumbling all the way, fighting for purchase upon the ground as much as he sought a motive to go forth. That haughty voice that had spoken to him, pitiless, delivering words that laid upon him like stones. Samson staggered, finding himself without the ability to move --- overcome that he had fastened his hopes squarely upon God, who had revealed themselves to be a false idol. He swayed, his eyes registering only the night clouds, flying low like banners over a scene of chaos. He would have remained stationary, had reality not cruelly been thrust upon him once more. Samson gazed at Emilio, his body limp as the other man shook him, seeing eyes that had been bleached by smoke and tears. "She.... must have fled. Both of them, probably... went to the cars." Samson thought of Evelyn and her triple halo of gifts; beauty, intelligence, faith. She knew of his previous errors; but she had been an unwitting witness to his public sentencing. He didn't know if she would wish him to return home. "What....was that. Who. Why? Emilio - why?" Samson grabbed Emilio's shoulders in return at his half-plea, half mad yell; why. He did not know if he was prepared to know. 

"Michelle Yeoh? Not who I thought you'd say, unexpected but I get it...I get it." How could you not find her attractive? And on top of that, even if you didn't find her attractive, you still wanted to impress her no matter what. That was power. Devi was appreciative for his presence, she hadn't meant to lose track of Maya but that had been inevitable at some point throughout the night, and she certainly didn't want to be on her own in the middle of this cult-like mess. "Wait, how dark and dangerous are we talking? And you can't possibly die in the first act, or at all, the comedic sidekick never dies." That was a rule, a steadfast rule, and the reason she wasn't afraid to go anywhere with Maya at her side. "But if you were going to die at this thing, how do you think they'd get you? 'Cause I might be on my way out already...one of those masked people came over and gave me this necklace thing? It might be cursed."

"I've been trying to broadcast I'm a man made for milfs first and foremost but I don't know how far that message has actually reached." Jude had begun to relax, albeit his skin still hummed with a frantic energy. The lot was alight with sparks of ruby and purple, the golden fire alighting the greenery round it with an enchanting glow -- it was beautiful, but a sense of urgency remained in an unanswered question (why had they been summoned to bear witness?). "That my young heroine remains to be seen... I think at best, probably just the Mayor announcing he's getting divorced. And at worst -- sacrifice? Mayhem? We summon a demon?" Jude's comments, both sullen and humorous, could not quite destroy the charm that lay before them that night; his eyes met Devi's with a sentiment that could only be described as curious. "Oh I think they'd start chasing me, because my incredible mullet is a key ingredient to the sacrifice -- I trip, they catch me, and Hey Jude starts playing as I'm dragged away. But c'mon, you can't leave already -- there's no way Maya would want to leave. Except..." His voice ceased as his eyes looked for the mysterious jewellery Devi had been bequeathed, "They gave you a necklace?"