she likes the way he sings

it's been, what, a week now, and shane still couldn't wrap her mind around anything that was going on here. jury was still out on if this was some new age rehab that she was kidnapped to, paid for by her parents. but now, after a week of everyone trying to make her understand, the town seems to have thrown a halloween party? what the fuck was that? just throw a party and act like nothing was weird about that. usually, shane would love an excuse to party but it's been a week without her pills and the last thing she wanted was to be around a bunch of cheerful people. she had volunteered to work the bar, mainly as an excuse to not have to be in the partying mood and stay close to the shitty ass alcohol that was offered. seeing someone approach, shane didn't even try to force a smile, "what can i get for you? we got moonshine and moonshine."

“Well,   hey,   MOONSHINE  never  hurt  me  none,   I'll  take  some  ‘a  that."   He  flashes  a  smile  and  adjusts  his  ascot.   “Make  that  two.”   He  pauses.   “Not  both  for  me.”   Leaning  on  the  bar,   he  points  across  the  barn  to  Clementine  in  her  MATCHING  costume.   He  watches  Shane  pour  the  drinks  in  silence  for  a  moment.   “You’re  new,   yeah?   I  apologize  it's  taken  me  this  long  to  make  the  introduction,   but  I'm  the  sheriff's  DEPUTY  ‘round  here."   He  holds  out  his  hand  for  her  to  shake.   “Make  it  a  point  to  introduce  myself  to  everyone  when  they  first  arrive,  but.  It’s  been  a  bit  of  a  rough  week.   But  the  name's  SLY;   pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance.”

sweat had dripped off of him, but oren felt good. it was a feeling he didn't have much at all anymore. before getting caught in this place, his job was to perform and play for people. the opportunities to do such things didn't really present itself in the same capacity anymore. no more night time gigs most certainly. plus he had a job to do and even if he hated doing most jobs, he also wanted to do his part where he could within the community. so all of this? this was something perfect.

“You're  REALLY  GOOD!”   Lola  calls  over  the  chatter  of  the  party,   leaning  in  to  be  heard.   Face  is  wide  with  a  genuine  smile;   she's  not  usually  so  openly  complimentary.   “It's  a  good  thing  for  us  we  have  a  MUSICIAN  here,   or  this  whole  thing  could've  been  such  a  flop!”   Still  bouncing  along  to  music  only  she  can  hear  now,   she  takes  a  LONG  sip  from  her  cup  of  punch,   the  alcohol  content  taking  her  on  a  face  journey  as  she  chugs.   “Do  you  know  anything  by  Sabrina  Carpenter?   I  love  her.”   One  last  sip.   “I  wonder  if  I'll  get  to  hear  her  new  music  ever.”

clementine's hand rested on the crook of silas' arm, guiding the pair of them to the barn as if he might scuttle off if he wasn't tethered to her somehow. "would it kill you to smile a little?" she muttered, glancing sideways at him with half a smirk. her tone wasn't scolding despite her words, it was far more warm and teasing than anything else. "half the town's gonna think i dragged you down here by your ear." another glance at him, her smirk widening. "i will if i have to. i'm not goin' to this thing by myself."

“You  did  drag  me  here  by  my  ear,”   he  mutters  back  as  he  tries  to  pull  away  from  her  vice  grip  somewhat.   Just  as  intended,   Clem's  arm  acts  as  a  veritable  BABY  LEASH,   holding  he,   the  unruly  toddler,   tight  within  Mommy's  cautious  gaze.   Ridiculous.   With  a  frown,   he  examines  their  costumes  one  final  time  before  the  big  public  reveal.   “At  least  it's  not  the  WORST  thing  you've  talked  me  into.”   Which  is  an  extremely  generous  categorization,   ‘talking.'   This  is  the  one  time  of  year  she's  too  good  for  BLACKMAIL,   apparently.   Women.   “My  hair  isn't  gonna  stay  like  this,   is  it?”

where : graveyard

❝ ⸻ Hi silas ! ❞ a soft and alluring smile graced her lips as she saw the deputy digging graves for those who weren't fortunate enough to make it through the night . She had been at the diner and thought it would be welcomed to bring him something to drink for all he was doing .

seeing the bodies in pieces like that did nothing to her . while others were mourning , olivia didn't feel much over the dead . she was only close to a selected few and while she does help as she can around town and colony house , her home and place was in the forest . sure it was a loss , but the creatures comes for them all sooner or later ... if you aren't careful .

❝ You were looking thirsty so I brought you something to drink . would you like me to help ? are you almost done ? do you need help ? ❞ despite how delicate she looked , olivia didn't mind getting her hands dirty .

He  plants  the  shovel  in  the  dirt  once  more   —   Sly  and  Rosa  had  THOUGHT  they'd  been  finished,   then  found  a  missing  limb  while  having  their  celebratory  beer,   apparently  premature   —   and  looks  for  the  voice.    He  sees  her  smile  at  him  like  that,   and  persona  immediately  SHIFTS,   morphing  like  mercury  at  the  opportunity  to  be  charming.   Weathered  edges  of  bright  eyes  crinkle  up  in  a  smile,   and  his  tongue  darts  out  across  his  bottom  lip  before  he  sucks  it  into  his  mouth  and  lightly  bites  down.    "Well,   hey  there,   PRETTY  LADY,"   he  croons,   voice  smooth  and  thick  as  velvet.   He  dusts  his  hands  off  on  already  filthy  jeans  as  he  makes  his  way  around  the  mounds  of  dirt  and  over  to  her.   "That's  very  kind  of  you,   thank  you."   He  looks  her  up  and  down   —   so  open  it's  practically  VULGAR.   "What  is  it  you  brought  me,  sweetheart?" All  the  ones  who  live  outside  of  either  of  the  ESTABLISHED  ORDERS  in  this  place  are  so   —   interesting.   Stupid,   maybe.   But  there's  a  fearlessness  in  living  like  that  which  is  impossible  to  deny,   no  matter  how  you  look  at  it.   He  likes  to  think  he's  a  LONE  WOLF,   but   —    You  can  take  the  man  out  of  the  cult,   but  you  can  never  take  the  cult  mentality  out  of  the  man.   Sly  would  never  survive  without  a  group  to  ENMESH  himself  in.   He  could  never  live  like  she  does.

who: zepyhr & paloma @muddyreverie where: colony house when: daytime

"yo, yo, yo." zephyr announced himself, fingers drumming on the door to paloma's room as he opened it without a care in the world. even before coming to colony house zep had inhibited spaces with friends, all willing to share everything (including one another) and practically live on top of each other, so the fact that he even knocked at all was a miracle.

he had a smile on his face, a mischievous thing, as he took a few lazy steps into her room, poking at a few of the various things that littered the place as decoration. he knocked something off, then quickly caught it with a muttered oh shit and fumbled to replace it. "so... heard there was gonna be a party in the barn." his eyebrows shot up as he looked at her, biting his lip. "figured little miss college student was gonna have something to say about that." zep knew that people were still struggling with what had happened a few nights ago, but he was trying to keep spirits up.

"Jesus,   knock  much?"   Lola  rolls  her  eyes  with  a  GROAN,   stuffing  the  toy  she  was  messing  with  under  her  mattress  and  immediately  out  of  sight.   As  prickly  as  she  can  be   —   to  everyone,   he's  not  special  in  that  regard   —   she  does  admittedly  have  a  SOFT  SPOT  for  Zephyr.   He's  always  so  much  fun,   and  seems  to  be  able  to  withstand  when  she  gets  sharp.   A  good  combination.   Pretty  RARE. "Hey!"   Brow  furrowed,   arm  instinctively  flies  out  to  stop  him  from  messing  with  her  stuff   —   as  much  as  she  can  from  halfway  across  the  room   —   but  the  anger  just  as  quickly  dissolves  into  a  deep  laugh  she  tries  to  HIDE.   "Don't  break  anything,   oh  my  God." 'Little  miss  college  student.'   "You  know  me  SO  WELL."   She  sits  up  straight  as  a  board  in  bed,   holding  her  ankles  and  swaying  slightly,   shoulders  wiggling  with  excitement.   "I'm  on  the  PARTY  PLANNING  COMMITTEE,   as  it  so  happens,"   she  gushes,   laying  it  on  as  thick  as  she  can.   "How  FUN,   right?   Finally,   something  tolerable  about  this  place."

At  first,  she  can  barely  make  out  who's  talking   —   the  ACCENT  is  more  of  a  giveaway  than  the  blurry  silhouette   —   the  sun  is  somehow  absolutely  blinding  regardless  of  where  you're  standing.  “Everyone  is  being  WEIRD  today,”  she  responds,  annoyance  clear  in  her  voice  as  she  holds  up  her  hand  to  shield  her  eyes  from  the  sun.  Then  her  eyes  land  on  the  joint  and  she  practically  dives  for  it,  sitting  down  on  the  stoop  beside  Gaz  as  she  does.  “Oh  my  God,  PLEASE.” Sure,  yeah.  In  the  real  world,  this  would  absolutely  be  cause  for  alarm.  CONCERN,  even.  But  the  entire  basis  of  her  residency  in  Colony  House  hinges  on  the  idea  that  she  trusts  Gaz. And  that  he  has  no  reason  to  be  mad  at  her.  Which  is   —   surprisingly  hard,  actually.  It's  not  him,  it's  HER.  And  they  haven't  had  much  occasion  to  interact  other  than  the  frequent  reprimands,  but  he  seems   —   generally  alright,  probably.  I  guess  we're  about  to  find  out. “You're  not  allowed  to  make  fun  of  me,  though.  If  I  look  like  an  ASSHOLE.  I  normally  just,  like   —   drink,  y'know?”

they weren't exactly sure why, but marama loved laundry duty. so many people come and go, talking about how much they hated doing laundry out in the real world (whatever that was) but it was almost soothing to her. the repetitive motion. washing away the dirt and grime from the fabric and seeing it come out clean. taking it down from the line, warm and soft from the sun. folding and sorting everything before the pack of colony house residents take their pick from the piles. usually no one bothered her and it left plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts. but this time, as they took down the dry clothes and replaced it with the wet, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. "could you at least wait until its sorted and inside before you go diggin' through my stuff?"

This  one  is  WEIRD.  They've  been  here  for  basically  their  whole  life,  and   — It  shows.  Weird  ACCENT,  weird  hygiene  standards,  just   —   in  general,  very  strange  to  someone  as terminally  normal  as Paloma.  She  normally  tries  to  avoid  Marama,  truth  be  told.  But  she  sometimes  FORGETS. Lola's  eyes  go  WIDE  and  her  heart  skips  a  beat  when  she  hears  Marama  speak   —   it  catches  her  off  guard,  and,  to  be  fair,  she  is  acting  like  kind  of  a  dick  at  the  moment.  Grip  releases  and  the  piece  of  clothing  FLUTTERS  back  down  to  the  basket  below.  “Who,  ME?”  Of  course  her.  There's  not  a  single  other  person  in  sight.  “I  was  just,  uh.  I  was  just  trying  to  HELP.”  Eyes  dart  around  frantically  before  landing  on  the  basket  of  laundry  itself,  sitting  at  her  feet.  With  jerky  movements,  she  bends  and  picks  it  up.  “I  can   —   take  this  inside  for  you?”  Don't  be  suspicious,  don't  be  suspicious   —   —

Lola  shoots  the  other  woman  a  DEATH  GLARE  over  her  shoulder,  lips  screwed  up  in  a  childish  pout,  and  stuffs  another  handful  of  clothes  into  her  bag.  "I  have  a  better  hiding  spot  this  time."  She  spits  out  the  weak  retort  like  it's  the  most  clever,  cutting  comeback  ever  spoken. Another  huff,  and  Paloma  COLLAPSES  down  onto  the  dirty  wooden  floor  with  big  eyes  and  a  pathetic  frown.  She  rolls  her  eyes,  then  grabs  for  her  own  cup  sitting  a  foot  or  so  away.  "I  didn't  wanna  be  ALONE."  She  takes  a  deep  sip  and  swallows  hard.  "Like.  Ever,  you  know?  If  you  get  lonely  in  the  middle  of  the  night  in  town,  where  can  you  go?  Nowhere."  She  DECISIVELY  answers  her  own  question  with  another  roll  of  the  eyes  and  another  sip  from  her  almost-empty  cup  of  —  something  strong. "And  it's,  like."  Lola  looks  down  at  her  lap,  picking  at  her  nails.  "It's  SCARY.  You  know?  It's  harder  to  be  scared  when  there's  so  many  other  people  here."  A  quiet  moment  as  this  rare,  vulnerable  truth  hangs  in  the  air  between  them.