softcore.

Dee brought her knees up to her chest, stuffing her cold fingers behind her knees for additional warmth and comfort. As much as she missed her sweet Emre, Dilara could only thank the heavens for the distance placed between them. Though it hurt her like hell to be away from him, she could be confident that he wouldn’t miss her too much. A few months perhaps, given his age, but then he’d easily forget about her. Alana had barely been a few weeks old when Dee arrived here. Soon enough none of them would remember a life with mom. “  Not even the innocent get spared here.  ” she commented, shaking her head with distaste. The things in the woods were bad enough for them to process - hell, the nightmares that took over them had felt more vivid than being awake. In the midst of all her brain rot, Dilara hadn’t put much thought onto what the little ones in Arcadia felt. “  We’ll figure something out.  ”

THE END

A twitched mouth, contorted shortly, but with no parted condolence: family, people who arrived here not alone but with a stretched hand that met with another. Hell shared. It was with some small relief that Jude had remained as she had lived. Alone. Brought into being by something now only a fractured memory, the closest thing to family some black-eyed trust between children with names that had been forgotten. Always brief, facile. Care was only torturous, clutched to here when creature lingered in every shadow. The end of each of them loomed. For the first time, she had only dipped into the shallow of a heart, found it already so ruinous. It could only ache more to feel, she would not confirm it. “You need somewhere away from them to cry.” Jude nodded, did not raise it as question, the lull of her voice swallowed by the emptiness of what lay to rot. Further solitude still sought out even in the vacuum of her own life, to think in the still where the frost had not yet met the sky. “Four does sound like four kids too many.”  

it had been the truth. the car hadn't served any of it's previous purpose. now only a taunting reminder of all the places it had gone. ones wheels couldn't spin onward to. rusting away, it now was a small space to harbor her feelings into. stow them away somewhere so rylee hadn't need to carry burdening emotions back to a home she tried to keep bright. safe. managing four children in a world such a this had been a tough job. even for the most strong willed. a small smile cracked. almost ached in the cold air. she'd become so stiff. stained in painful emotions before they were wiped from the fabric of her sleeve. "sometimes."the exchange felt like a pleasantry. easing the air thin, "they're all pretty stacked in age... thought the toddler era had been chaos. got a teenager. one teen alone is a handful." truthful, even through a laugh, rylee hated admitting the motherly struggles. normal days kept her grinning through it all — even if her molars had ached.

“  I’m so sorry.  ” Dilara apologized, wishing she could reach over to offer some comfort but understanding that the touch may not be wanted in her grief. “  I can’t begin to imagine the world of -  ” she stopped herself from finishing the sentence. Nothing that she said could help ease the pain Rylee felt, but she understood well the strength of a mother pushing through hell. “  If you ever need anything - anything at all - do feel free to approach me. I won’t claim to feel your pain, I don’t think anybody really can, but you’re not alone. You know? In a place like this, we have to help each other any way we can. If anything for the children.  ”

It was unduly cold. Bones sharp and contorted with some youthfulness that ought not to be found in something as weathered. Cut against the wind, the metal beneath the thigh almost damp in its sting. It had been terribly mild before. Before this winter that had come only to take. The years before only knew some imitation of weather, seasons had seemed too alive and changeable to be replicated, accepted as another dead thing here. Jude flexed out the hardness settled in her hands, the ice pick against muscles. She thought to leave, return to a hearth still burning—despite, despite—it had been left only for some semblance of her mind to be found. That out in the earth she might find some segment of it left in the dirt between the fields and trees. Now she longed to return to the heat, where she could not quite meet eyes—unfit and always in the wrong place. She shifted and stilled.

Hell. A raised brow, some knowing wilted amusement. Well enough of them called it such before. Hell Town, nowhere, the abyss. Purgatory. It relied on who you asked, on what day. The beings brought here—stuck here—not together but bowed before the same fate. Even those who fell to their knees to beg and scream for salvation, to worship at the base of a tree. The world had chewed and spat, the other side of the grave much colder. Dead things that were supposed to stay buried. Buried things that were supposed to stay dead. The soil rolled off them all, still lose when some life clung to them. Even though Jude took little notice of them, those who came and went, she could tell the new inhabitants by that alone. The clawing at the door between before and now left such marks. 

a nod. "four girls." rylee's eyes strayed from the other. just briefly. knowing that the knowledge of her having children in a place like such always came paired with pity. with a heavy heart. condolences. the toe of her shoe lightly kicked some of the melting snow. it slushed to the side giving her a momentary distraction. arcadia would be more digestible if rylee had been here alone. her husband, dear friend, and daughters kept safe on the outside. free. "all here." the bitterness of the cold was warm in comparison to the bitterness the town had been. a town of such cruelty. unapologetic. "could say so." the woman's chin turned back toward jude. there wasn't a need to push any pleasantries. no squeezing out any lasting energy to provide a sunny disposition. the car graveyard allowed the woman to reveal a demeanor that had been hidden during most hours of the day. kept secret from the hope filled daughters. "really, a place to cry." rylee laughed as the truth unveiled itself.

''What's it they've been dreaming of?'' She shot a quick glance towards the girls, especially Freya who was entering an era of teenage years where she tried to uphold herself tougher than she actually was. Her attention was brought back to the moment when Rylee's fingers met the back of her freckled hand and she couldn't deny the comfort that was offered. The redhead scooted a bit closer so they touched arms and she ran her thumb over Rylee's to soothe her in return. The care Rylee had for her, Ophelia always wanted to give it back tenfold and wrapped an arm around her to let her friend rest against her. ''What do you suggest? Cuss God, or should we take it up with the devil? Ugh...I could go for a glass of wine right now. I wish we were at the cabin right now, sitting at the pier and staring at the sunset with some wine in hand.'' Like the good old times.

'A spider, there's a spider on your hair!' The second oldest screeched at the youngest darling which made Molly jump around, scream and ruffle her hair to get the spider off of her. She threw the hammer to the ground and spun around in a hurry, screaming for her family for help. Ophelia nudged Rylee to remain seated, she got this and got off the ground without dusting off her pants like she usually would.

''Hey, hey Molls, I think you got it,'' she got a hold of the girl's shoulders to calm her down and squatted down to get on her eye level. ''You're alright, dear, the spider's long gone,'' she cupped the girl's cheek and made sure the girl picked up on her auntie's calm energy before she took a look at the girl's hair and ran her fingers through the wild strands, ''look at you, your hair's all ruined, all your mom's hard work gone!'' She feigned a gasp, but before Molly had a chance to react, she tickled the girl all over and made her laugh until she couldn't anymore. With ease Ophelia had picked Molly up into her arms and brought her with her back towards Rylee where she sat with the girl in her arms. ''Giving this little one a break from the playground, you're not hurt, are you, Molls? No spider bites, no glass anywhere, no ouchies?'' She made sure with a silly tone to her voice, checking the little doll from head to toe before feigning a bite against her cheek with a growl that made Molly screech from laughter. ''See, Molly's totally fine, we won't have to expect a spiderwoman in our midst anytime soon. I think.''

"does sound lovely, phelia." a small grin began to crack at the corners of her mouth. "might even invite the ol' devil to have a glass of wine with us." if that's what it took for such torment to halt. "he...the devil's got to be a he.." a nod, almost matter of fact. "might even enjoy the view of the lake." it was a beautiful sight. one that was branded to rylee's inner clarity. sometimes she just needed a deep breath and the thought of that cabin few to keep her peace at bay.

Having her children outside of Arcadia was the only thing keeping her sane enough to push through this. She could only think of how strong Rylee was to be able to do it all with all of her girls here. To keep her head leveled despite the horror that plagued the earth they stood on. Her vision wandered over to the treeline beyond them, curiously looking through the trees as if she’d be able to make out the creatures awaiting just beyond. Ready to devour them all the moment the sky shifted. “  But, I take it, that’s not the case. Is it?  ” she asked, turning back to watch Rylee with a saddened expression. 

He tips an imaginary hat at the compliment - at least he could compartmentalize, he had that much going for him. And Chase wasn’t sure if she was only saying all this to be polite, or because she actually meant it, but he beamed a bit at hearing someone talk so highly of artists. In their circle of rich friends, the Flannerys often viewed kids who went off to be artistes as moochers who were freeloading off their parents to go and find themselves - in his own defense, at least he had put in the work. He was right on the brink of something special before the supernatural talons of Arcadia got their claws into him. “You might want to reconsider, in a place like this,” he said, his smile a bit wry. “I love what I can do, but I kinda wish I had more special skills.”

There was just something about the sunset that made Jack crave a cigarette. Maybe it was the dim light drifting through the wooden slats against the windows illuminating dust particles in the air, reminding him of the plumes of smoke that curled out of his lips after a long shift. Or, maybe it's simply because he's an addict who hasn't been able to indulge in a nicotine habit for roughly two and a half years. Sometimes, he regrets the decision to quit, throwing that final pack down his garbage disposal that caused his old landlord to cuss him out in his dingy apartment lobby. If he had known that would be the last chance to take a drag, maybe he would have savored it a little more. But, regrets are for people not trapped in a hellhole on patrol.

Instead, he simply watches the dust particles dance in the light for one final moment before he pushes himself up from his spot, brushing dusty hands against even dustier pants. Not too long before curfew drops, and it's looking like no one's got an itch to read whatever Vonnegut reject is sitting on the shelves. The joys of being a librarian. No one really gives too much of a shit to read nowadays.

He starts his way down the stacks, back away from the door as he hums to himself; a jingle that played a few too many times on his former local radio station, droning out a phone-number he would never call. Damn annoying, but catchier than he'd ever dare to admit. However, the sound of the bell attached to the door jingles, causing Jack's movements to hitch. Huh.

"Gotta make it fast, the sun's burning out," he starts in a sarcastic cadence, a hand on one of the nearly barren shelves as he turns to face the door. "And, if you're looking for a copy of Catcher and the Eye, I just checked it out. Sorry."

If there was something she was definitely glad for was having her children back home and safe with her husband. Cameron may not have been the most attentive father, and would definitely need to hire a live-in nanny due to their rigorous work schedules, but at least they were safe and sound. She didn’t have to worry about bordering up their windows, or ensuring her kids didn’t open the door in the middle of the night while she slept. Didn’t have to worry about fearing for them in any capacity while they remained a safe distance from this hell. Rylee’s situation was one Dilara wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Dee hoped that as time went by, the two would grow close enough that if her help was ever needed, Rylee would reach out. In the meantime, she ensured to offer it. 

“They’re tired of being inside?” Dee asked, offering a less personal option in case Rylee didn’t feel like sharing anything too deep, but still a hardship of having children in Arcadia. With the amount of time some people have been around, Dilara would have thought someone at least would have put together a building to entertain and distract the children during the early hours of the day. Something that would allow their parents to breathe easier even if just for a couple of hours throughout their day. “There’s still a bit of gas inside of the mobile clinic,” Dee relayed, “I noticed a large group of cars parked some distance away. Maybe we can bring them there to play tomorrow morning? There’s more than enough people in the clinic, so I won’t be missed too much and it should give the girl’s something to look forward to.”

"think its more so cabin fever of being in this town." the irish woman held in a small sigh. let it slightly pinch her lungs before slowly exhaling all of the pain she often held in to mask the darkness for something happier for the sake of her daughters. "their so young. dealing with grief in this capacity is confusing. they just wanna be kids. y'know ?" her hand extended the bottle back to dee — thankful for the few sips she'd taken. knowing it wouldn't be long until it started to fuzz her mind. just a little. just enough to settle. "dunno if you knew about their father ?" a cautious look. rylee wasn't one to withhold truth. her natural comfort brought honesty — and truth was the woman enjoyed the comfort others provided. she wasn't one to enjoy isolation — not by herself, not with her emotions.

Clearing her throat, she ran a hand delicately through red strands. Blinking once, blinking twice, her gaze fell back upon the blonde that had her heart in a tight grasp. A warm grasp, that made her heart skip a beat every time their eyes locked, every time she thought of her, every time her voice filled the air, it wasn't hard for Rylee to make her feel. To make her breathe and fill her lungs with air she so much needed in order to live. Rylee made her want to live, even in this shithole.

Rylee's war cry definitely made Ophelia's eyes widen in surprise, even for a split second. When the girls laughed, there was a grimace on her face too paired with a chuckle. ''Girls, I don't think this is your mom - she'd never harm a car cursing a town,'' she teased, ''where's Rylee Carnegie and what've you done to her!?'' Ophelia had come up to the girls, taken the last safety goggle from the bag and shoved it up her nose. Guiding Molly to smash some more dents in the hood of the car, the safest and biggest surface to hit without the possibility of glass or splinters flying back towards the girl's face, she gave her an answer to her question Ophelia only wished to ever fulfill. ''Of course sweetie, I'd take you and your sisters to her tour. We'd rent a van and follow her on the road throughout all of Canada, the U.S., even Europe if that's what you want, Molls.'' Adding to that, she stopped hitting her and hugged her from behind, if only to hide the tears from welling into the beanie she was wearing, ''and I'd treat you on all the chicken nuggets you can eat, mcdonald's every single day, my darling girl.''

Leaving the girls to have fun with each other, Ophelia had taken Rylee apart to sit by another car not too far away to still keep an eye on them. In a hushed voice, she wondered out loud now. ''So you lot have the same nightmare some-fucking-how, and I....'' unsure on how to bring her own trauma forward, her voice died when she stared at a patch of snow in front of them, ''....I get woken up screaming too. How...how does that....work?'' The occasional giggle came from the four after a loud crack, smash or thwack. Which was good. Which meant they were playing around, having fun rather than having their minds occupied with the trauma that swirled through Ophelia's. ''That can't be a coincidence, can it?''

Chase shrugged. “My moody brooding was a phase,” he said. “Then it became two separate things. I would get moody, and I would brood. Not always at the same time. But everyone’s a bit moody around here, so who’s to say.” It might be a different kind of moody. Hopefully some of these kids would get a chance to be real kids, to live a life outside of a place like this. It was bleak and the fact that there were some around here that had been in Arcadia for multiple decades made the odds against his wishes, but he wouldn’t give up.

annalise. rylee noted the name of his sibling to memory. a lawyer. sarah jane. neurosurgeon. rylee nodded another scribbled stored fact. rebecca the golf pro. eyes swam across the bushel of struggling plants before meeting chase's profile. such light he couldn't seem to see on his own. too dimmed by societal standards of success. rylee's stomach fluttered in hopes that his parents hadn't been too harsh, too full of expectation. clouding disappointment. something rylee as a parent would never sink into. finger tips, to toes, to the last hair on her head had been full of caring support for whatever made her children happy. as long as passions and happiness weren't violent or hateful, she'd be there lifting spirits. rylee hadn't known chase very well — but she decided in the moment that she'd always support whatever flickered any light in his eyes.

One of his many jobs as a pastor, besides extending his knowledge and preaching the word of the Lord, was listening and providing counsel whenever the situation demanded it. With Rylee, he listened earnestly. Allowing her the time she needed to dig in her mind for words and air her worries. The mention of sleepwalking made him suck in a silent breath of horror, though there was nothing that surprised him anymore. 

Lupita had been the same when Sol passed away. Waking up in the middle of the night, out of their shared bed at the time, and attempted to open their bedroom door. With everything that happened, Leandro had began locking every single room they slept in after that - being too terrified that the next person he’d find would be his own flesh and blood. Not a week after he had switched to the basement of the church all together. He needed to push as much distance between his kids and the outside as he could. 

“What precautions have you taken?” he asked after a moment had passed, the noise of the children above them filling the ambiance almost comically. Far too many lives had been lost to this place, too many children taken too early to make sense. Leandro could have died happily without the image of all the children’s graves he had prayed over. “I can help secure the locking mechanism to the outer side of their doors, if you’d like. That way you can lock them in at night, and let them out in the day.” Had their situation allowed for another way he wouldn’t offer such a horrendous option, but if it kept the children alive through the night he could see no fault in it. The only other option was to tie them to their beds. “Their windows are all bordered up, right?”

“No?” Jude frowned. More rested, she might have asked more questions. About what the other did know about. Not in the name of social niceties, which she understood even less than she practised them but inquisitiveness. She could make sense of people more through the draws and knowledge they saw themselves in. 

Hands without distraction, Jude hummed with the thought of the winged creatures. Less concerned, now, about the recourse for the birds that picked at her crops, but of an owl somewhere on the perimeter of the ranch's fields. A barn owl, most likely, with speckled plumage and pebbled eyes. It had returned for many a night when she had considered removing the shutters from windows to seek out its silhouette in the dark. Fortunately, she had reason enough that it would be too far to make out; no doubt the sight of Them would catch her eye long before beak or feather. Still, she had heard it across the air of sleepless night—a constant point in the uncertainty of dusk. She would not ask if she knew of that.

shame. you might be missing out. — there had been a lot rylee had missed out on. thrown to the wind of motherhood. buried beneath a failing marriage. divorce. life just withering away to dust, and yet so much life still left. the woman, petite, carried such might against allowing herself to wallow on what she had missed out upon. no need to pity herself. motherhood had always delighted her to a full extent. no matter the downfall of her marriage. surely, if her mind had leaked into thought.. —particularly at night. laying awake in bed about her persona being swallowed by the lives of her daughters. no room left for her to explore herself intimately — with a partner or alone. those moments of thought would be drowned out by tired, heavy lids. sleep consumption. washed all by morning just to fall back into motherly routine.

truth was — ... rylee didn't quite have an answer. the answer she wanted to speak had been untrue to the fate of the girls' father. keep them safe. unharmed. the reality was grim. rylee felt like arcadia was just a thin sheet of ice ready to crack, and pull all of them under at any given moment. "frey," rylee spoke calmly breaking up her oldest daughters pressing questions. "ophelia is right. she's just having a deep dream. go to sleep, love." fingers traced the same pattern across molly's face as she tried to convince herself of her own spoken word. after a moment, rylee gave into freya's words. "close yer eyes, darling. —i'll be there in a moment. just going to be right here with molls. alright ?" assuring, rylee drifted her small grin across the room.

''Listen to your mom, okay?'' Ophelia added to the soothing only their mom could provide best. Surely she had been there for almost all their entire lives, at least as long as Freya could remember, but Rylee was their real life support. Their mom they'd turn to when they were in pain, when they needed to be cuddled or comforted by whatever kind of devilish acts life threw at them. The kind when one had fallen off their bike, or hurt their finger by a splinter from the treehouse, or when another kid at school had been stupid, or when a boy had tried them out just a little too much. Fucking boys. Fucking men. She rolled her eyes at the train of thought she got lost in - even for a hot second. Unseen by the dark of night, anyways.

Ophelia's hand remained featherlight on Freya's arm when the girl had lied her head back down onto the pillow, tracing her skin gently. Soothingly. To let her know she was here, keeping her from harm. Whilst Rylee kept Molly from harm as best she could. They were trying their best, whatever that meant in this fucked up town. ''Get some rest, too, babes. I'll keep watch for a bit.'' She whispered over towards the sofa. Her head resting onto her other hand, a bent elbow gave her enough vision to watch over the other girls. Claire and Lucille seemed so peacefully asleep, their breathing reminded Ophelia how lucky they were to still be alive. Together.

Her mind kept her occupied for a long while before sleep also got a hold of her and pulled her into a light slumber. Images of the blonde flashed by in her mind, her heart aching for what possibly could've been if she hadn't let others take her away. If she hadn't prevented herself from keeping herself at bay - if she hadn't held back in high school. When it had been just the two of them. Them against the world.