The darkness that had settled upon the town was...unsettling, if one was to put it lightly. But time didn't stop. It just kept on moving, and Bastian had stopped trying to make sense of any of it long ago. They had to keep on keeping on - and one way they would do that is to make sure they all got at least a somewhat satisfying meal in their bellies.

Bastian had made it his own personal mission to try and keep the survivors of the town fed with healthy and tasty meals, even if what he was working with was limited. He was working on a stew on this particular evening when someone stepped into the diner and closed the door firmly behind them. Yeah, life still went on and people still needed to eat, even if there were creatures looking to kill you beyond those doors.

He shook away the thought and slapped a smile onto his face, grabbing a spoon and a bowl to fill with a serving, soon approaching the newcomer and extending the bowl in their direction. "Here - please. You've got to try this and let me know what you think."

They had never minded a bit of dirt. Juno could spend hours on end gathering it from the surrounding areas, deep into the night if circumstances allowed them to, but they accepted that when the sun started to go down, it was time to be with the others. There were only so many places they could escape to in order to be alone, so while - to others - venturing out into their wooded surroundings seemed like an absurd task, Juno craved every second of it. 

They still had a good hour worth of sun before night befell them, so they found themselves - and a large bag of dirt they had gathered from around the water - edging the docks. There were others there, they could see them, but Juno did their best to keep their head down and become one with their surroundings. Ignoring everyone and hoping that they would do the same too. Plopping the bag down on the ground, Juno made way towards the water to clear off the dirt that had collected beneath their fingernails so that they may journal before heading home. 

One of the very many things they brought with them was a satchel that Juno wore almost at all times. It’d be odd to find them without it, unless they remained within the bounds of settlement buildings, so it came to no surprise that they pulled out journals and pencils from within. They hadn’t been looking where they stepped though, and while attempting to gather their things, a wrong sidestep pushed them over the edge and into the water.

Sleep came in short and few bouts - if Rosa was a grumpy person before, she was venomous now. She didn't mean to shove away anyone that tried to make nice, merely a part of her nature, but she wasn't a good sleeper as it was, for someone who found eight hours a night dire. Attempting to do so in a strange town with complete outsiders, (she refused to consider that she was the outsider now), and the threat of things that literally went bump in the night - she wasn't sure if she'd slept longer than two hours at a time since she'd arrived a month ago.

The worst part was that those two hours regularly happened when it was least convenient. Gasping, Rosa sat up like a rocket from the table she'd been all but strewn across, dazed and startled as she attempted to take in her surroundings. It was hard to, when everything was still completely new to her. Rosa was struggling to even recollect the building she found herself in - it was just her luck, really. Eventually coax herself into attempting to take in her new world just to get lost in it. But the part that really terrified her was that when she glimpsed out the closest window, all she saw was pitch black.

Rosa didn't know much about Arcadia, aside from the fact that that was bad. Night time was never her favourite part of the day - now she feared it. Deeply. She was a nine year old all over again. The shadow passing by her periphery made her yelp, immediately scrambling for the knife she'd determined to carry with her. Just in case - as if she could ever see herself stabbing someone. Still, Rosa pointed it towards the person who glanced at her outburst with wide, frightened, but determined eyes. "Are - I -." Frustrated, Rosa pressed her lips into a tight line while visibly swallowing, a poor attempt to push down her fear and force forward what made her so frightening. "Where are we? Name. Now. Um - please, just tell me your name."

Four months was a long time to be away from a lot of things, and he had adapted fairly quickly in terms of lifestyle. He still went to church, maybe even more than usual, but his prayers were of the silent variety now. Not spoken out loud, no hopes or wishes for other ears, human or otherwise. Sometimes there were no prayers at all, and he just sat in the pews looked up at the old cross hanging on the wall. His world was always rather small anyway, and trading a church community for a hostage one wasn't that much of a leap. Otherwise it was a single seat at the diner, or eating alone in some quiet corner of the ranch. Finding a private theater in the cinema to set up a movie. Sleeping next to the soft warmth of a projector.

He preferred to keep to himself and rarely ventured out, but he didn't want to be useless either. Rarely in his past was he allowed any moments to relax, thinking that it was just a spiral into laziness and that couldn't happen. So many years as being a unnecessary caretaker and an able-bodied young man had him accustomed to favors and being a general helping hand. And he figured, he spent a lot of time at the cinema, but there was a pesky drip not far from where he slept at night. Though he was worried constantly about those figures finding a way in at night, he knew the sound would drive him crazy and potentially risk damaging any equipment in there, ruining the one good thing about this place. So as soon as he was able, he was out at the roof, putting old skills to use, patching up the hole with whatever he could find, or at least figure out a way to divert water somewhere else. Handle of a screwdriver between his lips, he didn't realize someone had made their way to the bottom of the ladder until he caught them out of the corner of his eye, nearly startling him in the process. "Ynnh?" was all he said, muffled by the screwdriver as his hands tried to hold a plank in the right spot.

She’d been drinking far more than she would back home, but since the world was ending or whatever, Dee felt it was only necessary. Giggled erupted from her as she bit into her last piece of bread. Having started drinking pretty early, munching on some of the food set out seemed like the only way to lessen the alcohol’s effect. There was the obvious option of stopping her intake all together, but what was the point of coming to the party if she didn’t plan on enjoying it in its entirety. She did have water in between each alcoholic beverage, and ensured to take her time with each pour. Serving another set of drinks, Dilara found the next familiar face and extended her hand. “  I wish I knew enough about what was in the mixture to have a proper offer, but uh- drink?  ” she said with a large smile.

Parties were easy to get lost in. If there was one thing that Joel enjoyed more than unraveling in his paintings, it was getting the chance to fuck around with a pretty girl or two. He didn’t tend to linger for longer than a few hours with them, but just enough to enjoy himself, make them happy in some way, and effortlessly depart. No promises of another time, or even seeing each other again. Just live by the moment and enjoy it while it lasted. That was his defining romance, though he had often yearned for more. Granted their… death? upon entering Arcadia, all yearning of finding more became moot. “  How much of the rumors do you think are true?  ” he asked, taking a sip of his - whatever the fuck they put in the container - drink and turning towards his current partner in crime. He couldn’t be caught dead hanging around alone in that house of horrors.

The song in her mind goes like this: a long, drawn out riff. The low percussion ushering the sound of the cymbals. A thrum at the back of her brain. The vibrations of cord and muscle in response. A tightly wrung neck where damp cloth should’ve been. 

She hums when there is no one listening.

It is a tender sound. It must’ve been. But it leaves her mouth all wrong; turned careful and methodological. Echoing a distant memory. It was a wedding song. Her grandparents used to dance to it whenever they had the chance, holding each other in embrace. They sway too slow, not quite meeting the tempo. They did not care for that detail. She runs her tongue through the inside of her teeth, checking to see if it’s turned forked after all. 

The song in her mind goes like this.

An absent tune that nobody knows to sing.

The thick of the woods sing it back to her, during the quiet in between the cicadas’  own. She stops, her bare feet sinking ever so slightly in the damp earth. The cross around her neck weighs heavy and warm against her skin. The trek is easy; it is everything else that makes it difficult. The skin. Her clothing. The invisible rope. It is the tethering that drives her to madness. Soon the trees will begin to thin out. The stumps overgrown with moss will remind her to mind herself.

The Common House stands just beyond the clearing, but she does not go any further. She watches it in the distance, painting shadows on the ground. All of those faceless hands digging into the earth. She pulls back, hand slipping the sandals back to her feet just in time for that empty rhythm. A shift in the air. Prickling at flesh. The gears wind tightly back into place.

A knowing look.