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@knoxcarrigan
the deeper you dig, the darker it gets
basics.
full name — knox carrigan
faceclaim — taylor zakhar perez
gender & pronouns —cis male, he/him
age — 25
birthday — 4/21/1964
sexuality — unexplored
occupation — community center coordinator/musician for hire as a side gig
bio | skeleton | headcanons
Lou had him pinned, and she let it settle in, let him feel the shape of it— the pressure at his chest, the rough scrape of brick at his back, the fact that she’d moved faster than he could register. She felt him cataloging all of it, that flicker of belated awareness behind his bloodshot eyes. Too late.
She might’ve been meaner about it, if she didn’t know this particular breed of drunk. The kind that let you lie to yourself, made the sidewalk feel like a stage, and your own bullshit the main event. She might've backed off Knox altogether if he wasn't like some kinda fucked up anger magnet.
“That scotch?” Lou got close enough to Knox's mouth to actually sniff his breath. Her nose wrinkled with an answer, “Classy, preacher’s boy. You tryin’ to impress someone or just drinkin' so ya can keep livin' blind?"
She could feel his pulse hammering against her arm. The tension in his jaw, the weight of his stare as he tried to get a read on her. And then, like clockwork— the deflection. The reach for some kind of control. You high right now?
Lou made a slow show of considering it, she tilted her head, a thin, humorless smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You really wanna have the credibility conversation?” A little more pressure, just to remind him she had him exactly where she wanted. “Seems like a bad time for that.”
She could see the indignation flaring up in him— that old, stubborn resistance— but there was something else layered beneath it. Something she recognized, something ugly and persistent.
Guilt.
“You still playin’ dumb about this summer?” she asked, soft and cruel. “Or you finally remember what you saw?”
As Lou moved in to... smell him? Knox grimaced and tried to turn his head away as much as he could, backed against the wall as he was. It didn't matter, though. Lou was worse than a hound on a scent. She was a harbinger of his own personal demise, a too brash reminder of the things he wanted nothing more than to forget. And he was at her mercy.
It didn't matter that he knew he probably reeked of alcohol. He would not give her the satisfaction of admitting to it. Not when he'd come this far, pushing his preferred narrative like it was making him money. So he said nothing, his mouth set in a hard, defiant line.
He couldn't hold his tongue for long, though, especially with the way her bony little elbow pressed into his chest. "Sure. I remember what happened this summer. I remember you blowin' up on me when I was just tryin' to help you."
Flashes of that night threatened to play through his mind and he wished she'd just let him go. He didn't want to do this, to think about those girls, think about how he'd done nothing for them but pretend they had never existed in the first place. And despite the bad blood between them, he didn't want to keep letting Lou down. It had been foolish, maybe, to think that she'd just disappear and leave him to live in the lie that allowed him to live with himself.
"Let me go, Lou. This ain't gonna end how you want it to end."
August had never exactly been a regular at any of the churches in town, and there were multiple reasons for it, but one of the biggest was how visceral and potent the feeling of unwelcomeness was whenever he dared step inside the hallowed grounds. He was used to not belonging places — it was a feeling he'd been saddled with his entire life — but there was something about the pews and stained glass and hushed voices in particular that made his skin crawl. It was just about the only place where he sometimes couldn't help but wonder if maybe the townsfolk were right about him. Maybe he really did have a little bit of the Devil in him. He'd had a plan for Baylor's funeral: sneak in after everyone was already inside and settled, stay in the back near the doors, hopefully slip out more or less unnoticed before things wrapped up and everyone else started leaving. He wasn't trying to disrupt anything. If anyone asked, he was there to pay his respects, just like anyone else. And he managed to make it out without much incident, right up until he paused just outside the back door to light a cigarette before he went on his way only for someone to come bursting out right after him. Knox seemed — out of sorts, to say the least. Not that that was any of August's business. It took a second to figure out that Knox hadn't actually been following him out, that in fact Knox hadn't even seemed to notice him, and he'd just taken a careful step backwards to try and sneak away before that changed when Knox looked up and August watched his whole demeanor change in real time. The sharpness to Knox's eyes was like a knife in the heart, and August didn't answer the question immediately, because just like always, he didn't know what to say to the guy. After all, how do you tell your first real friend that you still miss them like burning when they wrote you off like it was nothing years ago? "I was just headin' out," he finally managed, his voice quiet and verging on defensive. "Wasn't really too keen on the inevitable post-funeral chat session." He hesitated before tentatively adding, "Are you okay?" Again, none of his damn business by any means, but he couldn't help but ask. Something about Knox in that moment just felt off, and even though he knew it wasn't exactly reciprocated, August's heart couldn't help but ache for him just a little bit, despite it all.
His hackles smoothed out little by little, something a shade less than guilt chasing away his defensiveness. He'd been caught without a mask, without the armor of the preacher's son, but this was a day of mourning. A little bit of give in the facade could easily be overlooked.
So, Knox allowed himself a little room to exhale. He straightened his back but leaned against the building, glancing up at the sky rather than August as he spoke. He was glad for it when the question came, that twisting stab of guilt settling deep in the pit of his stomach.
How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to go back to his life of petty squabbles and thinning faith when he'd come face to face with a monster? Twice? There was only so much he could talk himself into believing, so much mental gymnastics he could do to make it all make some kind of sense. But it left no room for how to juggle something like this— an old friend lost to bias and outside opinion until it had become his own.
A humorless, tired laugh met the question as he scored a hand through his hair, squinting at the sky for one more long moment before finally shifting his attention to August. "Yeah," he said on an exhale. It didn't sound particularly convincing, so he continued, "might be my dad up there leadin' services, but it's like I'm also expected to be someone people can lean on, like I got the answers or somethin'. But sometimes I just gotta feel the things, too, though, y'know?" His eyes slid away again because he hadn't realized just how true that was until he was saying it. "Just needed a little breather s'all."
The wind howled once more, whipping through the trailers with an unnatural force, but the creature remained silent, patient, its presence now an almost palpable weight against the trailer's window panes. It could feel the tension crackling from within the trailer, the rising panic inside, and it reveled in it. It was so close now, its jagged claws brushing the frost-kissed earth, but still, it remained just out of sight.
From behind another trailer, its voice drifted again— Major’s voice— but this time, the sound was wrong, a twisted mockery of the person it was pretending to be. “Lulu… help me…I need you...” the words trailed off in a rasp, as though Major himself were fighting to be heard, but it was the creature’s breath, wet and foul, that carried them. It called to her again, louder now, louder than before, and this time, a low rumble of laughter followed, a cruel, deep sound that slithered through the snow like a dark, invisible current.
It was closing in.
With a sudden, bone-chilling screech, the creature scraped its claws against the side of the Banks trailer, wood splintering under its claws like paper. The sound vibrated in the very marrow of their bones, and for the briefest moment, the mimicry of Major’s voice faltered, replaced by a deep, throaty growl.
“Come out, Lulu... I’m waiting...,” it whispered into the cold night, its voice echoing with predatory promise. It could feel the fear radiating off her, taste the way it made her pulse quicken, and it knew she was almost within reach. But it would wait. It wasn’t in a hurry. This hunt was far from over.
Then, without warning, the creature launched itself at the trailer, the sudden, violent force of its massive body slamming into the door with a thunderous crash. The wood splintered under the impact, the door buckling inward, groaning as though it were about to give way completely. The metal frame bent, but the door held—for now.
A deafening roar of frustration rang out, its claws scraping along the frame, desperately trying to pry it open, as if the creature knew time was running out. It let out a deep, guttural snarl, its breath fogging the air as it pressed its face against the door, the glowing eyes peering through the gaps, taunting them.
It would get in. It had to.
@knoxcarrigan @lieutenantbanks
If it wasn't for Knox having assuaged her fear of her brother sounding like he was on the brink of death outside, she would've already been back out in the cold. It was haunting, just how much it sounded like him, convincing enough to have lured her into the snow once. Hands flying to her ears, Lulu pressed her fingers to quiet the sound as she leaned forward, forehead pressed to Knox's chest.
She could've handled ignoring the voice, head buried as she whispered continuously to herself: "It's not real." She could've backed away from the door, gotten something strong from the fridge, and gone on with her night. Hell, she could've ignored the concept of midnight and simply kissed him now, if for no other reason than the serendipitous escape of death.
But, whatever it was out there wouldn't stop. A force that shook the trailer shoved Lulu from her leaning stance against the door, buckling her knees as she fell forward and into Knox. It wanted inside, angered by the thought that the two wouldn't entertain its cries for help.
"Where the fuck is that mirror?" she cried, desperate, scrambling to her feet as she pulled Knox away from the door with her. The glow of a figure shone through the cracks in the wood, as though it were watching, waiting, for their next move. "We have to ... I don't know. Do something." She looked to him, desperate for any ideas. "Maybe, you open the door, and I'll flash the mirror at it, and it'll run away?" @knoxcarrigan
Knox hadn't considered his immodesty until Lulu's fingertips brushed softly over the slash on his chest. His stomach tightened, the moment pulling taut as his breath caught and held. His eyes moved to catch hers and then—
Major's voice sounded again, close enough to raise the hairs on his arms, his momentary daze shaken by the reality of the hellish creature that tormented them just outside. True, crippling fear shot through his veins like ice, his stomach souring with dread. As Lulu collapsed into him, hands pressed over her ears, his arms tightened around her on instinct alone.
She needed him to do something, to be someone, but he felt like little more than a fraud. He knew from experience that this was not a fight he could win. Would he have to watch while the monster forced its way in? Tore into them both until it tired of them or had its fill? Adrenaline had him shaking, and he tightened his hold on her a little more like it might make it stop.
And then the creature rammed itself into the trailer with so much force, the whole place shook. Glass rattled and the sound of wood creaking until it nearly broke sent him into motion. Knox did his best to shield her with his body as they both moved away from the door, his chest heaving with his desperate pants. She was shouting for a mirror, the only known defense he had against whatever it was outside. But what if it didn't work this time? What if what had happened that night had been a fluke? He would not let his ineptitude get someone else hurt.
Something seemed to slow in his mind as he glanced quickly around the trailer for anything that might help them. For a plan that was better than opening the door for it. His eyes lingered on the windows, calculating through his panic. "Windows reflect at night, right? If there are no lights on in here..." He was talking mostly to himself, trying to see the plan through to the end in his mind. Was he imagining this right? If they lured it to a window and turned all the lights off, wouldn't it see itself in the reflection? He looked at Lulu with the smallest sliver of hope. "What if we lured it to one of the windows and then shut off the lights in here? If we timed it right, it'd be starin' right at its own reflection. Openin' that door is our last resort. And if anyone is going to go face to face with it, it ain't gonna be you." After all, he'd done it once before and lived to tell the tale. Why not push his luck?
Marshall and Bolton were on the run. Not from something. He had been running ever since he started feeling better. To clear his mind...to get back in shape. After all, neither Lulu nor Kiera wanted him for his intellect. That's how he saw it anyway. He was a hot body. And after Christmas Eve...he was feeling pretty dysphoric.
His run came to a full stop when he heard the sound of someone else. His pace slowed...and he reached for the brass knuckles in his pockets. But as he squinted and Knox's voice rang out...he realized he wasn't dealing with a Christmas Eve sequel. He was dealing with an oversized altar boy.
"Bolton might have something to say about that." He taunted. Bolton, the rottweiler who really served as a foil to Marshall, was instead pissing in a nearby bush. Afterwards he galloped his way to Marshall, and paced around absentmindedly. "Bolton." Marshall barked. Bolton barks back, and then turns to face the foreign creatures. Looking barely menacing.
"Anyway...I'll skulk where I please." Marshall teases. "What are you up to tonight? And don't say something lame like bible study or feeding the homeless. I want to know the real debauchery you get into after dark."
Knox almost wished he was coming face to face with his Christmas Eve monster instead as his eyes raked down the length of Marshall. He couldn't claim to know the other all that well, but he felt pretty confident that they weren't about to come out of this interaction as best friends.
His eyes tracked the movements of the dog whose body language was screaming he was about as much of a threat as Delilah was. Her age might have been in double digits, but her IQ wasn't, so the threat of a dog attack didn't linger in the air quite as ominously as the unpredictability of whatever the interaction between the two men would be. Still, Knox flashed an easy smile, shoulders loose as they shrugged up to his ears. "I'm feedin' bibles to the homeless, actually. Spreadin' the word of God one empty belly at a time."
There was a pause as Knox reached down to pat Delilah's head, her presence at his side like an anchor. His hands pressed together in a mocking prayer as he straightened again, unsure why he felt like kicking this particular hornet's nest was the right move tonight but being unable to help himself. "It's what Jesus's bitch would do."
She stepped into the dim glow of the streetlight, her silhouette cutting a sharp contrast against the falling snow. Liliana's expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference, but her dark eyes flicked from Knox to the growling dog at his side, assessing, calculating.
“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, lighting candles or polishing pews?” She drawled, her voice dripping with a dry, almost effortless sarcasm. “Praying for the souls of the lost or whatever? That’s what church people do when folks start turning up frozen in the snow, right?” Her smirk was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there - a flicker of amusement at her own words.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m surprised to see you out here. Especially with everything that’s been going on...” People dying, apparitions making themselves known - just another day in Misty Mountain, really! Her attention shifted momentarily, darting over her shoulder as if checking for shadows that didn’t belong. Her dad would absolutely lose it if he knew she’d snuck out, but that was a problem for future Lili. “You and your dog ain’t the ones who’ve been making human popsicles, right?”
There was a quiet breath of relief from Knox at the sound of Liliana's voice was only mirrored by her features that became more visible with every small, cautious step forward. He wondered if there'd ever been a time he was relieved to see her before and figured it was probably nicer to just not answer it. Even in the privacy of his own mind.
"Betcha think your teachers don't exist outside of their classrooms, either," he jibed, lips curling on one side of his mouth in a half smile. "I'm an entire person outside the walls of the church, too, believe it or not." And he knew she believed it, since she'd caught him being a person in ways he would have loved to erase from her memory.
At the mention of his dog, he glanced down at Delilah whose tail was wagging happily now that she realized Knox didn't feel threatened. Not that she wouldn't have immediately turned tail and ran the moment anything real started to go down. The phrase all bark and no bite could not have described her better.
At the mention of his dog, he glanced down at Delilah whose tail was wagging happily now that she realized Knox didn't feel threatened. Not that she wouldn't have immediately turned tail and ran the moment anything real started to go down. The phrase all bark and no bite could not have described her better. He seemed to weigh the Accusation Lite™, head tilting this way and that. "I feel like she'd probably prefer 'em fresh and meaty. Sometimes a guy is just out walkin' his dog. But you're just out here walkin' 'round all alone so maybe it's you goin' around turnin' everyone into popsicles?"
The wind stilled again, as if the world itself were holding its breath. From the darkened edge of the trailer park, the creature shifted forward, its movements unnervingly quiet despite its massive size. It crouched low, its form barely visible against the backdrop of snow and shadows, save for the faint glint of its eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.
Then it called again, in Major’s voice - this time louder, closer, almost frantic. “Lulu! Lulu, please!” The mimicry was painfully perfect, every word soaked in a desperate plea. It broke off into a choked sound, like a gasp or a cry, echoing off the trailers.
The monster crept closer, its jagged claws leaving faint grooves in the snow as it moved toward the pair. But it wasn’t ready to reveal itself just yet. Instead, it let its voice do the work.
“Lulu - help me,” it whimpered again, softer this time, as though the source of the sound was struggling. It shifted direction, throwing its voice from the far side of the lot, behind an abandoned trailer.
Then came the chaos. With one swipe of its massive arm, the monster sent a rusted lawn chair flying from its perch on a porch, the sound of metal scraping against wood piercing the night. The chair crashed to the ground, loud and jarring... Silence fell in it's wake.
She didn't even wait for Knox's response before calling out again, the voice convincingly her brother's. "Major!" she shouted in the night. Lulu felt her breath start to shake, growing quicker as she began to run through just what could've happened to him. He could've been shot, or stabbed, or ... whatever had happened with that wild animal that had been let loose on Christmas Eve. She wasn't taking any chances: the moment she saw him, Lulu would concede to going back inside.
The scream softened, a whimper in the pain. Major was never the kind to admit defeat--this had to be serious, someone pinning him down, or ready to strike. Lulu took a few crawls forward, desperate. Rare tears welled in her eyes, the thought of losing her brother in the night settling in.
Then came the crash. It sounded like a hammer, or a knife--something sharp hitting one of the trailers on the lot. He was in a fight: he'd scratched his way back to fighting, that had to be it. Lulu scrambled back to her feet, reversing her way into Knox's arms, the only barrier stopping her from getting back inside. "What the fuck is going on?" @knoxcarrigan
Panic seized all rational thought, Knox's own cowardice and refusal to accept what he knew to be truth holding his tongue. His eyes made a frantic sweep of the trailer park, almost hoping it was Major instead of what he instinctively knew to be true.
And then the chair came flying right out of the dark and there was no mistaking they were being toyed with. This was no animal, this was something sinister. And it was playing with them.
"It's not Major! Just, for the love of God, listen to me!" Knox's harsh whisper cut through the wintry air and as his arms tightened around her, he knew that she was too far gone in her fear to truly hear him. So, he scooped her up instead, holding tightly in case she fought him and trudged back into the trailer as fast as he could.
Once they were both inside, Knox set Lulu down, caging her between his body and the door as he flipped the lock— like that'd do anything against whatever was terrorizing them outside— and willed her to look at him, his eyes ping ponging desperately between her own. He sucked in a sharp breath and blew it out on an equally as harsh sigh. "It wasn't an animal attack. On Christmas Eve." He spoke low and quickly, as if he knew himself well enough to know that if he stopped talking, even for just a second, he might not start again. His fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them until his chest was exposed, the angry red of the slash he'd received at the hands of the very thing he knew was stalking them outside. "I dunno what it was, but whatever it was did this. And it could, like... mimic other voices. I heard Jasper speakin’ like she wasn't standin' right in front of me. There are holes in my memory, but I remember that clear as day. The only thing that ran it off was its own reflection. That's why—" another harsh breath— "that's why I asked 'bout that mirror earlier. I've been tryin' real hard to pretend like it didn't actually happen, but I refuse to let you get hurt because of it."
“It’s not the same,” Abilene admitted softly, her voice thin but steady. Her fingers worried the edge of her Bible, pressing crescent-shaped indents into the leather. “Not exactly. I don’t have holes, it’s all there. Every second. Clear as day,” she exhaled through her nose, a sharp, frustrated sound that she immediately regretted. She could remember Knox and Buck getting hurt, the terror she felt, the sounds the creature made. “I just keep replaying it in my head, trying to find the cracks, the parts that make sense. And there aren’t any. None of it makes sense.”
Her words hung there for a moment, as though she expected the sanctuary itself to push back against her confession. Her voice dipped even lower, barely above a whisper. “I don’t dream about it, though. I've been having a hard time sleeping before all of this and now? I just lay awake,” she admitted, craning her neck as if to relieve any sort of pressure.
She shifted slightly, stealing a glance at him. His discomfort mirrored hers, though it manifested differently - his was restless, almost haunted. “What do you see, when you dream?” she asked, though the question seemed to cut both ways. There was a part of her that wanted to leave the answer buried, to avoid peeling back the layers of something she couldn’t face. But she knew better. Avoidance never brought peace - it only delayed the reckoning.
“And… what's so important about us? It could have gone after anyone.”
Knox nodded, mostly to himself, because he, too, hadn't really been sleeping. It was in the moments that his exhaustion pulled him under where he'd find himself jolting awake, grasping for the shreds of a nightmare he couldn't quite remember, even as the feeling of it remained. He felt that same exhaustion now, creeping into his muscles. It was in the slump of his shoulders and the shadows under his eyes.
"I dunno," he confessed in a quiet voice, eyes squinting at the stage before them. It had never felt so manufactured to him before and he slid his gaze back to Abilene. "I forget as soon as I wake up. It's like... instantly gone." She said she remembered everything, though, and he couldn't deny how much that piqued his curiosity. Even still, he didn't want to ask. He tried to keep the question at bay by busying himself with the pages of the good book in his lap. But his curiosity was louder. "What d'you remember? D'you know what—" happened to me, "it looked like? Anythin'?"
Her next question had him falling silent for a long moment. His lips pursed, jaw working as he tried to organize any semblance of thought. "What if it was just a wrong place, wrong time thing? What if it ain't got nothin' to do with us at all? This ain't some story, Abilene. Not like we're a ragtag group of fated heroes that know the first thing about stoppin'... whatever this is."
WHAT: Knox on a walk with his dog somewhere in Misty Mountain. WHO: open!
The shepherd mix, Delilah, loped along beside Knox, her tongue lolling out of her mouth happily as her feet crunched into the snow. His own hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, head bowed while his thoughts raced. Considering everything that had happened lately, it probably wasn't a good idea to be walking around so distracted at night, but, well. Knox hadn't been known recently for his good choices.
It was about that time that Delilah's enthusiastic gait came to a sudden halt. Her head lifted, ears forward and alert. Knox stopped a half second later, taking in the dog's stiff body language that screamed THREAT.
Knox was immediately on alert, his fingers gone pale as they tightened around the leash. He should have known better than to be without anything but his useless pocketknife and a compact mirror, but there was that pesky bad choices thing again.
A figure suddenly cut an imposing silhouette against the night and Delilah let out a low rumble in the back of her throat. She also liked to growl at leaves through the window as they blew across the yard, but that was neither here nor there.
The figure shifted, the orangey fluorescent glow illuminated their face and Knox deflated on a breath. "You keep skulking around at night like that and Delilah's gonna think it's open season."
WHO: Lou Stafford & @knoxcarrigan
WHERE: an alleyway!
WHAT: Lou has choice words for Knox!
Lou eyed the steps leading out of the library for any potential slickness, when she'd decided the coast was clear, she hurried down the steps. She'd spent...thirty minutes in the bathroom with a lighter for....herself, then about fifteen checking out a couple of books on rituals specifically. It was nothing she hadn't read before, matter of fact, Lou'd probably read close to all the books in that library. Reading material was long forgotten at the sight of Knox Carrigan crossing the street in front of her. Looking tall and righteous as ever. Just the sight of him made Lou's jaw set. She dropped the books flat on the ground and rushed for him, fueled by her own cocktail of preferred drugs, yes. But also propelled forward by all consuming rage. It hadn't been since summer she really got a conversation out of Knox. Not like she tried. Lou slammed into him with the full force of her body, knocking him back into an alley. She grunted as she used the anterior of her forearm to shove Knox into the alley wall by his chest. With a free hand, she roughly gripped the Preacher's Son by his chin, gaze and words dripping with contempt, "Been meanin' to have a chat with you, pretty boy." Lou could've spat in his stupid fuckin' face. She lowered her voice, rugged and controlled. "You been lyin' on me." a little extra pressure on his collar bone wouldn't hurt...
With the same eerie and gravelly tone, she demanded, "The fuck ever happened to the ten commandments? Huh? Thou shall not bear false witness, motherfucker?"
Knox was drunk.
Not so drunk that he couldn't play it off if he needed to— which was why he felt comfortable, and somehow bold enough, to be skulking around at night alone.
It, like most things lately, turned out to be the wrong choice.
By the time Knox's brain managed to catch up to exactly what was going on, Lou had her elbow shoved into his chest, pinning him formidably against herself and the rough brick of an alley. As he blinked (and blinked again for good measure), he took stock of his situation, eyes landing on her pinched, snarly face last. Outlook not so good, then.
He probably could have apologized. He'd seen a hell of a lot more now than he had back in those woods with Lou. But he didn't much like the aggression or the fact that he'd fully lost the upper hand before he'd even known what was happening. So, he didn't do any of that, his petulance winning out. "Yer really gonna attack me in the middle of the street when I'm mindin' my own business and think you're the credible one here? I ain't been talkin' nothin' 'bout you." His eyes narrowed on hers, ping-ponging between them like he was trying to suss something out. "You high right now?"
The monster, hidden in the darkness outside the trailer, felt a sharp frustration burn within it. Lulu had failed to react as expected. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting caught in the fear it had hoped to ignite. Instead, she was indulging in the noise of Knox, her attention diverted like a child distracted by a shiny toy.
Quietly, it crept closer to the window, the darkness swallowing its every movement. Peering inside, it saw Lulu and Knox, the mirror in her hands, oblivious to the threat just outside their door. The monster drew a breath, the sound dark and strained, and then it screamed; an agonized, choking cry that sounded disturbingly like Major Banks. "HELP! HELP ME! LU -"
It wasn’t perfect, but the desperation was there, raw and sharp, ringing with an urgency that would tear through any pretense of safety. The creature called again, louder this time, "LU! PLEASE!"
The cry for help sent a cold chill down her spine, the ice in her veins making Lulu freeze in place. It was only the second time she heard her name that she was positive it was him: her brother, crying for her help in a blood-curdling scream that could only mean he was in grave danger. "Major?" she blurted quietly, only for herself and Knox to hear before she was snapped out of her trance.
Lulu barreled through the trailer and toward the door, stepping into the cold of the snow without so much as shoes on her feet. "Major!" she cried into the dark. There was no sight of her brother, not even so much as his footprints for evidence that he was really there. Lulu started into the white blanket covering the small patch of yard the Banks called their own, her wet socks imprinting her own tracks into those of someone's, or something's, much bigger.
The racing of her heart kept her from feeling the cold, though her body, only covered in a tee-shirt and jeans, began to shake. "Major? Where are you?"
Every thought was wiped clean out of Knox's head at the blood curdling scream that sounded from outside. There was no self-preservation in the way he ran out after her, no consideration for the optics of the preacher's son sprinting out of the Banks' trailer less than an hour before midnight or the horrors of Christmas Eve, only that one: Major was in danger. And two: Lulu was not going to shoulder this alone. He snagged his coat from where he'd tossed it over a chair, feet slipping easily into his unlaced boots before he was out the door.
Knox's boots crunched into the snow, slipping in his haste to catch up. He dragged in lungfuls of icy air, his head whipping around to find Lulu who was bare footed and jacket-less in the snow, calling out for a brother who was nowhere to be seen.
He jogged toward her, already slipping out of his jacket to settled around her shoulders as he scanned desperately for any trace of the other Banks.
His eyes landed on something else entirely.
Footprints— far too large to belong to a normal-sized human. He looked down at his own feet to find himself standing in one of them, the size dwarfing him by comparison. "Lulu," he said, voice quiet and laced with warning. He was still looking down, eyes tracing the indention and the sharp, jagged edges. Dread clawed through him as thoroughly as whatever had left these footprints had clawed through the snow and a sinister reminder whispered in the back of his mind. A memory from Christmas Eve of Jasper's voice, perfectly mimicked and calling from the darkness.
"Lulu," he repeated, this time a little more edged with panic. "Listen to me, okay? We need to go back inside."
Buck’s head slumped back against the wall, his eyes heavy. His breath was ragged now, each inhale feeling like it took more effort than the last. His hand hovered over the wound, but he didn't have the strength to do much about it.
“Man, I ain’t gonna lie, I don’t know if I’ve felt alive in a while.” His voice was barely above a whisper, strained and heavy with the weight of something he hadn’t let himself say. “Not since... since things went to shit with Abilene, y’know? That mess, it just took the air outta me. Like I’ve been walkin’ around numb ever since, goin’ through the motions. This is the first time I’ve felt somethin’... even if it’s pain, it feels like somethin’. At least."
Buck let out a bitter laugh, though it barely made it out. “Prayin' could wait, I guess. Ain’t like I’m real close with the Big Man Upstairs right now." He shrugged. "After all this? I don't know. Maybe he's tryin' to punish me, or somethin'." It was the kind of blasphemy you usually didn't share with someone so close to the Church - in the Church, for that matter. Buck had a feeling that after the night they had had, though... Knox might cut him some slack.
Buck's confession was eerily close to the secrets of Knox's own heart, how far he felt he'd slipped from the light, from anything that made any kind of sense. Worse, maybe, because he couldn't blame it on a broken heart.
He wasn't gonna say all that, of course. Perhaps Buck was seeking commiseration, but in his experience, it was hope people clung to most in times of darkness. So even if he had to manufacture it for himself, in someone else's hands... maybe it could be made real again. Belief was a powerful thing, after all. About as powerful as the lack of it. "In my experience, it might feel like He gets real quiet when things get rough, but it's kinda like... I dunno, like, forgin' iron in fire. Comes out stronger. But it ain't left in there long enough to melt, y'know?" Knox blew out a sigh and scrubbed a hand through his hair, the movement pulling taut against his wound and making him wince. "I dunno if that makes any sense or not, but." Shrug.
"I don't think you're being punished," he said, possibly the first true thing he'd said all night. If this was a punishment for anyone, wouldn't it be the preacher's son who allowed his infallible faith to shudder beneath just a little bit of questioning? And what a perfect punishment it would be to watch the rest of the people he knew suffer right along with him. He didn't say any of that, of course. It sounded far too narcissistic. And right now wasn't about him, anyway. "Maybe you're bein' tested. Maybe you come out the other side o' this the person you were s'posed to be."
Abilene sat beside him, hands folded neatly over a Bible, though she hadn’t opened it since sitting down. The colorful light streaming through the stained glass painted Knox in shifting shades of red and gold, but his unease was unmistakable. She could see it in the way his fingers grazed the pages of his Bible, as if searching for answers in the thin paper.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned her attention to the pulpit, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, honestly,” she admitted, her words carrying the weight of someone who’d failed miserably at that task. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? The more you try to push it away, the harder it clings.”
She stole a glance at him again, noting the tension in his jaw, the way he avoided looking directly at her. Abilene wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him or offer him a way out. Maybe both. “I keep going back to that moment - when it stopped feeling like something we could explain away.” Her fingers tightened slightly on the Bible, the leather cover creaking under her grip. “It wasn’t just a bear, Knox. You know it wasn’t.”
Maybe it was a monster - a demon. Was it some reminder of the grip she was losing on herself? Or was that selfish to think? She had made it our fine, unscathed, nothing but some torn up clothes - and those were used as bandages.
Then, a quiet defeat as she whispered, "do you think we're being punished?"
A subtle shift of muscle feathered in Knox's jaw as the pews threatened to fall away, a creeping fog beginning to descend out of the corner of his eye. He returned there in his dreams, nearly every night now, that his mind could supply the scene with startling accuracy. He refused let it in here, too.
So, Knox blinked hard and then blinked again, head turning fully toward Abilene as if she might keep him here in the present. It was like she was reading his thoughts right out of his own head and repeating them back to him, and he felt his face pale just a little with the acknowledgment of it.
"I dunno," he said, an echo of her own quiet tone, jaw working as each syllable clung to his teeth like sticky candy. But once it was out, it was like the words didn't want to stop. His relief felt a lot like guilt, but he was full to bursting with words that refused to be held back any longer. If only because she was there, too. She understood. "There are... holes in my memory. Like someone just reached in and scooped 'em out. But I think—" His mouth snapped closed as Mrs. Billingsley walked by, remarking how wonderful it was to see the two of them before she continued on to her seat. Once she was gone, the silence ate up the air around them and Knox pressed on, "I think I see 'em. When I'm sleepin'. I keep havin' these nightmares but it's like as soon as I wake up, it's all gone again. That happenin' to you?"
The sound of their voices carried through the chilled night air, muffled by the thin walls of the trailer but still clear enough to distinguish. It paused outside, lingering just out of the reach of the porch light’s weak glow. Knox’s voice was sharp and familiar - a scent it knew too well, still etched in its memory from Christmas Eve. The other voice, Lulu’s, was less familiar but intriguing. It tilted its head slightly, listening to her speak, piecing together their words like fragments of a puzzle it didn’t fully understand.
For a long moment, it remained perfectly still, hidden in the shadow of the trees that framed the trailer. The cold wasn't a bother, and the snow that blanketed the ground muffled the crunch of its movements. Its claws curled against the ground as it approached the trailer, and the closer it got, the sharper the pull in its chest - a tether, invisible but undeniable, that drew toward the Preacher's Son.
It hesitated at the edge of the porch, staring at the flimsy wooden door. A barrier, but not one that could stop it if it truly wanted in. For now, it didn’t. For now, it played with them.
It raised a clawed hand and rapped sharply against the door - three knocks, deliberate and forceful enough to echo inside.
And then it was gone, retreating into the shadows with practiced ease. The snow bore witness to its passing, deep impressions left behind in the shape of oversized footprints with jagged edges, like claws had raked through the frozen ground.
It crouched in the dark, watching. Waiting. Listening for what they would do next.
Before he could answer, a knock came, and panic clouded her eyes. Major wasn't supposed to be home yet, she couldn't imagine what Sugar would want out of her a half hour until the new year, and there wasn't ever anyone else who wanted to do with the Banks'. Weird. Lulu rose from her seat, swiftly tossing a blanket over Knox's head as she instructed, "Hold that thought."
Lulu padded toward the front door, not even bothering to look through the window before opening. except ... there was nothing there, no one to be found. She'd heard the three raps on the door clearly, though: it had been loud enough to nearly shake the trailer. Maybe it had been someone trying to fuck with her: it wasn't the most foreign concept that someone was trying to shake a member of the Banks family. Though the snow was threatening to pile against the door, there sat compacted snow, big enough to fit the footprints of something that wasn't human. With a roll of her eyes, she slammed the door shut, locking out the cold and whoever it was who'd decided they'd had nothing better to do than to play a little ding dong ditch.
"Odd as hell, there was no one there," she reported as she re-entered, pulling the blanket off the boy's head with a tug. They'd both been so careful, it hadn't been worth the risk of someone seeing Knox voluntarily in her presence. "Probably someone playin' tricks on me or Major. Who's got nothin' better to do than run around in the snow tryin'a pull somethin' on New Years?" @knoxcarrigan
The Gazette wasn't the only one missing details, but Knox wasn't so sure he wanted to divulge that information. Lulu was, perhaps, the only person in the world he felt comfortable sharing anything real with these days, but there were some things that Knox himself didn't want to look too closely at. Not for as long as he could help it.
He opened his mouth to say something, though, even as she dismissed the topic entirely. She let him crawl in here night after night, drunk as a skunk and spouting off who knew what. The least he could do was give her a crumb of truth. But it snapped shut again a moment later as she switched gears. A proposition sounded... dangerously enticing. Something about being here made Knox want to reach out and touch the dark side.
Or so he thought.
Her proposition made him stutter out a disbelieving laugh, his heart drumming out a suddenly frantic beat against his chest. Nearly halfway to thirty and the suggestion of something as simple as a kiss had him feeling like a child again. His mind supplied an easy explanation: she was toying with him. Of course she was toying with him. Because, like, sure, he'd thought about it a few times— he was only human, after all— but they basically lived on two different planets. It made sense that his mind might wander. But Lulu?
Before he could grapple some sort of response, three loud knocks echoed through the trailer, sending a shock through him, some new panic response that left him far more rattled than the situation called for. His heart thundered anew, but before he could run through apocalyptic scenarios (like his father on the other side of that door) everything went dark as Lulu tossed a blanket over him like he was some sort of parakeet. He didn't pull it off, though. Between her last question and whoever it was at the door, he couldn't pin his emotions down long enough to get a read on them.
He heard the sound of her footsteps to the door, heard it open and then close a moment later. His ears strained for context, but she was back again, releasing him from his blanket prison. He probably should have been glad it'd been no one, could have probably even told himself she was right. But something shifted uncomfortably in his gut, setting him on edge. Or maybe he'd already been on edge. Maybe he'd been living there since Christmas Eve. Since before that, even.
His brows furrowed as he moved to her window, fingers dragging down a single blind to peer through, but he didn't see anything either. It did nothing to calm his nerves. "Prob'ly just some dumb kids takin' advantage of what's been goin' on." The lie was palatable enough for Knox to accept it a little himself. He looked toward the window again and felt himself shiver. When he spoke again, there was a forced casualness to his voice, as though he was completely unbothered and simply trying to change the subject. "You got one of them handheld mirrors by any chance?"
𝐖𝐇𝐎: abilene pryor & @knoxcarrigan
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: the church kids are church kidding
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: misty mountain church, the sunday after baylor's funeral
The soft murmur of hymnals being tucked away and the faint rustle of Sunday-best skirts filled the sanctuary. Abilene sat near the back, a safe distance from the pulpit where Pastor Carrigan’s booming voice would soon fill the room. She’d been coming here since before she could walk, but today the walls felt closer, the air heavier.
She hated being in this place. All it signaled was a a version of her former self - a version that had to exist whilst she sat in those godforsaken wooden pews. Abilene sat perfectly, her dress was ironed perfectly, and she was placed on the edge next to her perfect parents and her perfect brother and her perfect sister-in-law. They were like the southern equivalent of the Kennedy's. Not a hair or crease in sight.
It was naueseating.
Abilene hesitated, her Bible pressed gently against her lap. She could feel the unspoken tension of the sanctuary, the expectation for everyone to sit quietly, to endure the sermon, to nod at the right moments. But she couldn’t shake the pull to go to Knox. Ever since that night with Jasper, she had been waiting for a moment to catch him alone.
Sliding out of her pew, she approached him quietly, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. When she reached his row, she stopped, hesitating just enough to avoid startling him. “You mind some company up here?” She gestured toward the empty spot beside him, taking the moment to slide into the open spot.
She hoped there would be no qualms with it. Her parents had a soft spot for Knox - they had long given up the dream that she would be the future Mrs. Carrigan - with their age difference (not that devout people cared about that!) and Abilene's relationship with Buck.
She took a moment to glance at him and refocus her attention up front, her voice low enough for no one to hear. "I keep thinking about that night."
The first Sunday Knox had returned to church following the bear attack on Christmas Eve, he'd been swarmed by concerned parishioners who were just as hungry for details as they were glad to see that he was doing fine. He couldn't begin to imagine the amount of times he'd recounted the story, the vague details in his own mind made even more so by his lack of desire to discuss it with anyone.
This Sunday he'd been more or less left alone. He'd chosen a pew near the front, shuffled his way to the end of it where the broken light that streamed through the stained glass windows danced across his skin, painting him in a rainbow of color. He didn't realize he'd been rubbing his chest, right over his wound, until Abilene's voice dragged him back into the present.
He blinked at her, her face transporting him back to the night they'd sought shelter here. He didn't want to talk to her, actually. She, and everyone else that had been there that night, he would have preferred to avoid entirely. Not while he could still convince himself that maybe it had just been a bear.
Even as a compact mirror lay nestled in his pocket.
He didn't say that, though. Of course he didn't. Instead, one side of his mouth curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sure, have a seat," he said, nodding to the open space beside him. Discomfort lodged itself between his ribs as if he knew what she would say next. There was only one real reason that she'd be here, taking the perfect opportunity to strike when he couldn't run from it.
His heartbeat quickened as he looked straight ahead, running his fingers over the pages of the bible in his lap like they might speak for him. They didn't. He was beginning to learn they never really said much of anything worth anything, anyway.
"Yeah?" he asked, voice hoarse and quiet, matching her in tone. He cleared his throat, glanced down at the good book in his lap, and then slid his eyes back to her. "What about it?"
WHO: lulu & @knoxcarrigan WHAT: happy new year!!! WHERE: the banks' trailer
New Year’s felt a little different this year, to say the least, as it had been only a week since she’d taken a spur-of-the-moment tour of the graveyard that ended with her favorite lighter dead and apparently being drugged out of her mind. It left Lulu with an eerie feeling heading into 1989, like maybe she should be worried that her luck would continue on the streak of shit that had gotten her here.
Then again, Lulu had never been worried about anything, and her aunt would tell her worrying only caused lines in her forehead. So, unbothered was how she was trying to remain.
Though Major was out of the house, it hardly mattered, anyway: Lulu preferred to keep her guests sequestered in the comfort of her bedroom, no matter who it was stopping by. There were certain people she didn’t want the bother of explaining their presence to her brother, and Knox was at the top of that list, and perhaps only a bit above her other Major-disapproved companion, Marshall.
“So, are you gonna tell me what the hell happened that’s got you in the paper?” She’d figured his family had kept him on high watch since their prodigal son had come back with so much as a scratch, but it had been one of the longest stretches the two had gone without seeing each other. And, given that a call from the Banks trailer was most definitely not welcomed in the Carrigan household, she hardly knew anything about just how he was holding up.
It had taken showing up here tonight to realize here was the only place Knox had wanted to be in the nights following Christmas Eve. If it wasn't his mama asking the same question over and over and over, it was his dad popping his head into his room like he was some teenager that needed lookin' after. And then there were the nightmares that plagued him, shooting up in bed every single night with a pounding heart and an already faded memory of whatever he'd stared down in his dream. His life fit like a shirt he'd outgrown, too tight in the shoulders, too short at the hem. He could tug all he wanted to, but eventually he'd have to acknowledge that the shirt needed replacing.
But that day wasn't tonight. Tonight, he'd sought her out, sinking into the space he normally took up like the first breath of air after being underwater. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, but he was here.
Her question wrapped around him like a hand around his throat and he let it hang in the air between them for a long moment. His eyes roamed the small space and lingered on her record player. Silently, he slid from where he sat and crossed the room, slipping Rumors from the pile. Delicate notes began to drift around them and his eyes closed for just a moment as he remembered grasping for exactly this feeling when he'd needed something to hold onto.
With a sigh, he turned back to face her, leaning against the wall instead of returning to the place at her side. For a moment, he just watched, running through all of the paths that had led them both here. Wondering how this place his father would surely accuse the Devil of living and tempting was the closest to something he'd felt in a long time. Maybe not God, but something close enough.
"Well, ya read the paper, didn't you? Says right there that it was an animal attack." His tone made it clear his belief in that was dubious at best. But he didn't actually know what happened. He couldn't remember and when he tried to poke into the holes of his memory, the throb of an incoming headache warned him off. "Didn't get a good look at the thing, so the Gazette's guess 's as good as mine."
who: buck and knox where: the church of death rip
Buck's back pressed against the cold church wall, his breath coming shallow and ragged. The pain in his shoulder was a constant throb now, gnawing at him like something alive. His fingers clenched against the makeshift bandage, but it wasn’t doing a damn thing. Every time he moved, every time he shifted even a little, he felt like he might just fall apart. He glanced over at Knox, the other guy looking about as rattled as he was. “Hey, Knox…” His voice was rough, like he had to drag the words out. “You ever - y’know, ever think about... what you’re supposed to do when it’s your turn? Like, when it’s bad enough, like this, should we… should we pray or somethin’? I don’t know, ain't that what you’re supposed to do?” Buck winced as his hand hovered over the wound, trying to hide how scared he really was. He wasn’t the type to show it, not really. But something about the flicker of the candles, the emptiness of the place, made it feel like this was it.
He looked up at Knox, his eyes a little more lost than he wanted to admit. “I mean, shit, you got any prayers left in you?” He swallowed hard, trying to force out a laugh, but it came out weak. "Think I could use a few.”
@knoxcarrigan
Knox wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the wall in front of him. Long enough that his racing thoughts had turned to dust, coalescing into a cyclone of roaring nothing between his ears. Somehow, though, Buck's roughened voice, quiet as it was, broke through the noise and Knox blinked, head rolling towards the other man.
If it was possible to feel even more hollowed out than he already had, surrounded by the walls of a place that had once felt like it made everything else make sense, then it was nothing compared to the drop in his empty stomach as Buck invoked God in this Godless place.
It wasn't like he could say he was beginning to realize that prayers hit the ceiling and went no further. That if there was a God, he certainly wasn't listening— hadn't been listening. He was the preacher's son. And Buck needed some faith to hold onto. Even if they were nothing but empty promises.
"I think prayin' is 'bout all we can do," he said, his own voice rough and gravelly. "Faith is usually the last thing to go, so I think I got a few miles in my tank if ya need." He hoped he didn't take him up on it. "Or we could just... talk or somethin'. I think sometimes it's nice to just be reminded that you're alive, ya know?"
His eyes trailed to Buck's shoulder, an echo of pain in his own chest twinged in sympathy. "How you holdin' up otherwise?"
