#hhqstarter

the first evening drew of being back in darkwood and it felt strange, almost like a comfort blanket being back in a body she knew well and her family home where her mother and father loved and protected her. everyone was alive and well, her and dean were still sweethearts... but none of it was real. she sat on the porch of the house that had once been her home, rocking gently back on the swing, “so we’re doing all this again,” she sighed as another approached.

Cyrelle stares at her bandaged palm as though it held every precious secret in the universe. On the night of February 20th, 2014, she had to get stitches after having the bright idea to drunkly wave around a broken beer bottle at someone who had pissed her off. By 2021, the wound had faded into a jagged scar that ran through her heart and life line. But right now, it was still stitched up and sent a sharp jolt of pain through her left hand if she put enough pressure on it. It was fresh. The pain it brought was unmistakably real.

The bartender disrupts her trance, waiting for Cyrelle to either finally order something or free up the seat at the bar for an actual paying customer. It’s nowhere close to being five o’clock but Cyrelle orders herself a whiskey neat, because how the fuck was anyone supposed to stay sober when living through their second 2014? The bartender preps her drink, and Cyrelle’s attention is drawn to other person at the bar, a familiar face that is so much younger than it should be. “Put whatever they’re having on my tab,” Cyrelle tells the bartender. To the other patron, she tentatively asks, “Why are we here?” It’s a simple but loaded question. Did they remember the two fires that haven’t happened yet? Did they have an answer as to why she’s reliving one of the worst years of her life? Or like most of the people she’s spoken to today, is this the only timeline they know?

jesse: uhhh hey !

jesse: listen i know it's been a while and that's.. totally on me but uh

every death, a new face was added. the first ‘accident’ he’d been present for was the largest, a brilliant shrine that read simply ‘i am one of you forever.’ later came the separate portraits of mx, adri, zeki... all those who were taken at such a young age: ‘let it do to me what it can.’

but it was all gone now. the one good contribution he’d given to darkwood, the one thing that yelled ‘i can belong if you will have me,’ and it was now but a blip in the time-stream that he hoped would exist no more. still he stood, having scoured each building in the town until he found that large and flat wall, one hand on his chin and one clenched. shaking his head, he muttered -- to himself, to anyone nearby, what did he care ? -- “ i can’t believe it’s gone. just... gone. ”

march 18th. darkwood blackout continues. setting: the park.

his plan was to just keep a low profile and wait out the weekend while managing to avoid any major confrontations like the ones he’d had over the past week (one of which was written all over his face — literally — in the form of bruises and shallow cuts). with plenty of tobacco and a pack of rizlas in his pocket, he was more ready than he’d ever be to take on the great outdoors. however, as soon as he began branching off from the camp to get some solid one-on-one time with the trees, he encountered someone standing in his path. it would seem he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t in the mood for some town bonding. “so…is it just me or does a weekend full of activities that revolve around an open flame sound like it might not be the best antidote to an arson attack? just sayin’.”