#wb.

the this in question never gets elaborated on. not because natasha doesn't want to ask what bela means, but because there's a desperate edge to her tone that she's never heard before. the subject gets changed soon after she hears the telltale signs of sniffling, of crying. because if there's one thing that they have in common it is the refusal to let themselves be vulnerable around others. (even if the other person in question is hundreds of miles away.) looking back on the conversation, there's so many different things natasha wishes she could have said, should have said, but she knows nothing would have made a difference. she was three whole states away and in a different timezone. midnight would have come and gone and bela would still have met her demise. but in those moments, she simply listens to bela go from trying her hardest tell her about the ticking clock she's been running from to talking about the winchesters and the bloody gun they're looking for.

it's not exactly the middle of the night, but it is well past polite visiting hours. and if there's one thing that hank knows about natasha, it is that she doesn't show up unannounced unless it's urgent. he opens the door to his apartment above the miller's shop and let's natasha inside. there's a baseball game playing on the muted tv and a box of pizza on the coffee table.

"pizza's still warm if you want some." he watches her take in the space. she sways a little. "you sure everything's okay? i thought you were supposed to be with sharon." it isn't lost on him how he's usually the last person to know things about natasha. (some things anyway. he's the only one who knows that when she's just the right amount of drunk she'll dance on the bar, belting out 80's pop or divorced dad rock songs without much prompting.) taking a bite of the half eaten slice, he settles back on to the couch. the announcer's voice fills the silence. hank's aware of natasha sitting next to him because she smells like a distillery and is wearing cigarette smoke like perfume. distracted by the game and the pizza he's chewing he doesn't notice that she's taken off her leather coat and is leaning towards him until her face fills his vision.

the slightly sweet pizza sauce is overpowered by the bitter edge of liquor as she licks into his mouth. there's a desperation to the way she kisses him and pulls him closer, hands roaming. hank's mind is still playing catch up while his body seems to have disconnected from his brain; reacting all on it's own. (the way she fits against him reminds him of yvonne.)

"mmm." god he wants this. "hey... tasha... c'mon, not like this. you're drunk." but she's insistent, nipping at his jaw and neck while her hands make quick work of the button on his jeans. what's left of the pizza is tossed into the box and he tugs her hands away with crumb covered fingers, her wrists firmly in his grasp. even without her hands she manages to find the right angel to grind herself against him.

she says something in russian that sounds obscene. or perhaps it's the way her tone lowers and the way her mouth moves over the words that makes them seem like something obscene.

"when did you learn russian? wait.... have you always known russian?" she's kissing him again and nothing that is currently happening makes sense because the natasha he knows would never in a million years want to sleep with him. the one time he'd a chance he hadn't taken it. and now, no amount of boyish smiles and compliments laid on honey thick could convince her to give him a chance. (the devil's trap under welcome mat, the silver door handle, the warding symbols all let him know that she's not a monster. this really is natasha.)

she sucks on his tongue and his grip on her wrists falters just enough for her to pull free. his mind short circuits when she manages to wrap her hand around his half hard length. jesus christ. he shudders, unable to suppress a low groan.

"okayyy." he breaths against her hair. hands cup her face as he kisses her. to distract her. to make her think she'd won. he moves them so she's laying on the couch and he pulls back to look down at her.

"this isn't you, natasha."

she blinks rapidly. a flash of panic crosses her eyes before she slaps him. hard. it stuns him for a few long seconds. he tries to shake the stars from his vision.

this is me. i want this. i want you. this is me. i did this to you. and she's taking hold of his length again as if to prove that she really could make him hard. his scattered aroused mind struggles to piece together where all this is coming from.

and then it hits him: she needs to know she's still on control of her body; she needs to know she's the one in the driver's seat.

"you did. you did such a good job, too." hank kisses her cheek, smooths her hair away from her face. "you did this. it was all you, tasha." he feels her relax under him but she's still insistent. so he kisses her like he it's the last thing on earth he's going to do.

hank pulls back. lips kiss swollen. "you can sleep in my bed. i'll take the couch. and if you still want this in the morning when you're sober, we can discuss it. okay?"

da.

"okay. good. let's get you to bed."

after uncomfortably tucking himself away, hank guides her to the open door of his room, flicking on the light as the pass the threshold. while she removes her boots, he fills a glass with water and grabs the bottle of advil from the medicine cabinet. they're placed on the bedside table.

"see you in the morning." he kisses her forehead, flicks the light off and gently closes the door. the tv is once again muted. hank fiddles with his giants cap as he thumbs through his contacts until he comes across the right name.

NAME: lily mae samuels

BORN: october 20, 1964 (22 years old) in eden, louisiana

OCCUPATION: waitress at gracie's diner

PERSONALITY: gentle, bright-eyed, witty, empathetic, and quietly rebellious.

lily mae grew up in a strict but loving home. her father, reverend ezekiel samuels, was a stern man with strong views on morality, obedience, and the dangers of “worldly ways”. he raised his children with rigid expectations, but her mother, margaret ann, softened the household with music and kindness. as a mother, she displayed an unwavering sense of selflessness as she took on the emotional burden of her husband’s increasingly complicated life; additionally, she was known to keep to herself. this usually came in the form of managing the household while also supporting her husband's work from the shadows, and is often seen as a somewhat enigmatic figure in the town, rarely speaking out in public. from what lily mae knew, her mother’s relationship with her father was one of deep but unspoken understanding, rooted in years of shared history and quiet complicity.

they were a simple family, but well-known throughout the town and that came an unspoken sense of respect. yet, no matter how hard she tried, lily mae always felt on the fringe of her small-town, and often spoke openly about how one day she would pack a bag and leave eden as a passing memory in the mirror of the passenger side of a car. yet, despite her dreams, her father watched her closely, too closely. her job at gracie’s diner was her first step toward independence and every tip she earned, she saved it in a coffee tin she kept hidden under her bed, labeled only with a tiny bird sticker. a subtle reminder that she too would one day be a bird in flight.

it was at gracie’s siner right around the fourth of july, in 1983, when lily mae met emerson for the first time. she was nineteen, he was twenty-one, and though they had seen each other around town for years, that was their first real conversation outside of mass. she had known him as the quiet, intense man who often kept to himself, and the one folks whispered about because of the mysterious group that followed silas jackson. he knew her as the preacher’s daughter with wild eyes and a soft voice, while she smiled at everyone, even him. their conversation happened after a late-night shift. lily mae was sweeping the floors, and emerson, who had been sitting at a far booth in the corner, finally walked past her.

after that night, they began talking more. he often came in when she worked night-shifts. it was quiet and slow. she brought him extra pie on the really slow nights, and he walked her home on warm evenings or offered her a ride in his pick-up truck when the rain came. people in town noticed; reverend samuels noticed, and he made it all too clear where his feelings landed, but lily mae didn’t care. she liked emerson’s quietness, his seriousness, his humor that made her cringe, but more importantly, she liked the way he listened like every word she said mattered.

against her father’s wishes, they began secretly dating in early 1984, not quite a year after their initial meeting. there was no denying that lily mae had softened emerson and while he rarely smiled, for her, he tried. most of his life was still wrapped in shadows, she told him her dreams of leaving town. at one point, he had understood that dream, but the way lily mae described it left him with the inability to respond. part of him wanted to tell her to go and never look back, and the other part of him was terrified silas would discover just how important she was to him. as a result, emerson tried to distance himself, but lily mae, in all her stubbornness, kept reaching for him, believing he was just troubled and not fully lost.

they broke up twice. each time it happened, she waited, and each time he came back, but their last stretch together was the spring of 1986. by july of that year, they had broken up for a third and final time. from then, reports were mixed on what actually happened on the night of july 20th, but one thing everyone could agree on was she was last seen at gracie’s diner for her night shift. where things get complicated was in the fact that some claim they saw her walking toward the road that leads out of eden, while others claim that she walked out into the bayou. either way, lily mae samuels had vanished without a trace. it wouldn’t be until mid-november, a few months after detective caillout came into town, that he reopened her case. however, due to how much time had passed, any physical evidence would be found was limited, but with the case open again, there were more questions than answers, and a web of uncertainty and lies woven all throughout eden.

the eden police department is a small force, underfunded and stretched thin, but even if it had the resources, it’s doubtful that much would change. corruption and fear run deep, and the influence of the circle of ravenous hearts ensures that certain crimes go unanswered, certain investigations hit dead ends, and certain people simply disappear.

the police captain: walter “walt” jones:

a long time officer in eden, captain jones has been at the station for a little over three decades. he’s in his late 50s, with graying hair and a tired face that betrays years of looking the other way. while he isn’t a member himself, he knows better than to challenge them. he’s seen what happens to those who do, and self-preservation has always been his priority. he warns his officers to avoid meddling in “things that ain't their business.”

the officers and their allegiances

those involved with the circle:

deputy adam booker: a hotheaded officer in his mid-30s, anthony is more than just complicit; he's an active participant. he ensures reports on suspicious disappearances never go anywhere, and if necessary, he helps cover up evidence. he grew up in eden and has always had one foot in the circle’s world, whether he acknowledges it or not.

officer anthony “tony” rayfield: a lifelong eden resident and a quiet, watchful man in his late 40s. he isn’t a full-fledged member, but he sympathizes with their beliefs and thinks outsiders need to “mind their own business.” he makes sure nothing disrupts the balance of power in town.

detective sam o’connell: officially, o’connell is a respected investigator, but he’s been taking bribes from the jackson family for years. he keeps himself distant from the more violent aspects of the circle, but his silence makes him just as guilty.

lieutenant henry “hank” duvall: eden native, served 25+ years in the department. it’s rumoured he knows more than he lets on. some suspect he might have been on their payroll at some point.

those not involved with the circle:

detective caillouet: one of the few officers in town genuinely trying to fight back, but the circle’s reach makes that nearly impossible. caillouet knows that many of his own colleagues are compromised, which forces him to tread carefully.

officer harry wilcox: a younger officer in his late 20s, he wasn’t raised in eden and hasn’t fully realized how deep the corruption runs. he follows orders but has begun to sense that something is very wrong. if he stays in town long enough, he’ll either be scared into silence or end up missing.

sheriff (retired) augustust “gus” granger: before his retirement, gus granger was one of the last men in uniform to truly stand against the circle. his refusal to turn a blind eye nearly got him killed more than once, and it’s no coincidence that his health took a turn before he finally stepped down.

why the police won’t stop the circle:

corruption and complicity: too many officers are involved, either as active members or as men who’ve been bought off. evidence disappears, witnesses are silenced, and any attempt at an investigation is quietly buried.

fear: those who have challenged the circle of ravenous hearts have vanished, or worse. many officers have families, and they know that one wrong move could mean losing everything.

generational influence: the circle has been around longer than most of the officers. it’s not just a criminal organization; it’s woven into the town’s history. some officers were raised to believe in it, even if they don’t actively participate.

at the end of the day, the eden police department is more of a safeguard for the cult than a force against it. the few who oppose it, like calloway, are fighting a battle they were never meant to win. at least, not while silas remains the figurehead.

THE HUNGERING MOTHER

the hungering mother is a divine figure whispered about in the private teachings of silas jackson. she is said to be the goddess of appetite, suffering, and reclamation; a spirit or deity that demands emptiness, pain, and flesh to be made holy. she is the giver of hunger, the bringer of famine, and the devourer of souls. her love is not warm; it is sharp and gnawing. to be near her is to be starved of safety, stripped bare of comfort.

her followers believe she is the force that watches over the bayous, the forests, the dead earth under eden. the voice in the dark that whispers: “empty yourself … and i will fill you.”

beliefs about the hungering mother:

hunger is divine. hunger cleans the body and the soul. to starve is to speak her language.

suffering is a gift. pain is not to be escaped but embraced. it pleases the mother and brings one closer to her endless belly.

violence is only sacred when blessed. only silas, or emerson, as his successor, can declare a killing “sanctified” in her name. random cruelty is forbidden; ritual cruelty is salvation.

flesh feeds her. cannibalism is not just survival, it is worship. the flesh of the dead is a holy offering.

she is everywhere decay touches. the group believes the rotting trees, the stagnant water, and the bones beneath eden are signs of her presence. the more the land withers, the stronger she grows.

symbols connected to the hungering mother:

the open mouth of a snake: a carved mouth belonging to a snake, with jagged teeth, always open wide. this symbol is carved into wood, bone, or stone and hung from trees or placed beneath houses.

the broken circle: a ring with a gap at the top, symbolising hunger that can never be filled.

the hollow woman: smetimes depicted in drawings and carvings as a gaunt woman clothed in silk with her face and head covered to conceal her sharp bones.