the monster !

[paranoeo]

Blood runs cold, veins turning to ice in the matter of seconds, and the sound of her own pulse rises to her ears, heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach. It's a voice that she hears every other day, lingering in the back of her mind, stuck in her head like the roots of her hair, but this ... this all is so different. This time, it's not coming from inside; it's coming from the woods.

"Maw?" The word comes out as little more than a croak, head slo-o-wly scanning the clearing, eyes squinting as she tries to see in between the trees, where the shadows lurk. Fingers trail along the window sill next to the door, not daring to stop until they find the muzzle of her rifle, iron-clad grip closing on it.

It can't be her mother. She's dead, she's definitely dead, Mabel saw her—her body, blood slowly draining from her, felt the life leave her in those final moments. Close to a half hour she had spent like that, mere inches from the terrorising form that was both her mother and her attacker, unable to move. Frozen on the spot, cradling her knees to her chest, covered in the gore of at least three people, floral pyjamas slashed and stained all the way through.

It can't be her mother. It just can't be.

"Maw, is that you?"

[mistymountainmonster]

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with the weight of Mabel's words. The creature could feel the doubt settling in her bones, could almost taste the churn of confusion in her mind. It was a delectable sensation, that moment of hesitation.

It shifted slightly, just enough to remind her it was still there, lurking on the edge of her perception. Its breath—slow, deliberate—filled the quiet, a deep, rattling rasp that seemed to come from the very ground beneath her feet. And then, with a cruel, twisted mockery, it spoke again.

“It’s me, Mabel Mae… don’t you remember?” The voice purred, soft and sickly sweet, a mother’s comfort laced with venom. The words slid out, dripping with false affection, like honey smeared over razor blades. “I’m right here... You’ve been so strong. Let me hold you, baby… Let me take care of you again…”

The creature drew closer, its massive form a shadow against the blackness of the trees. It was patient, letting the silence stretch on for just long enough to drive her to the brink of madness. Its eyes—deep, glowing, impossibly dark—watched her with cruel amusement, reveling in the way she tried to convince herself it couldn’t be real, the way her fingers clutched the rifle in trembling hands.

But still, it was quiet. Waiting.

And then, as if to push her further, it let out another sound—faint, but unmistakable: the echo of Mabel’s name. Soft, almost playful. “Mabel…” it whispered, a fragment of a familiar tone, distorted and laced with something darker. It knew what it was doing. It knew that the cracks in her mind, the scars of the past, were just waiting to be opened again. It only had to push a little further.

“Come out, Mabel,” it coaxed again, louder this time, closer. “It’s me. I’ll make everything better…”

[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."

[mistymountainmonster]

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

[loubriccant]

Lou's eyes immediately widened when a sliver of something caught in her beam of light. Whatever it had been, it was fast, and definitely not her sister. But what did it mean if it had Mabel's voice? Did it have her? Her face? Lou felt uncharacteristically panicked, frustrated. Her eyes traveled to Rosie, cold air burning her lungs as she gulped it down. "Uh...Not really in the mood, Mabel!" She tried to go along with it, but motioned for Rosie to cover her ears without much context. After this, Lou sincerely doubted she was ever getting coffee with Rosie Routledge. "Come on now, where ya at?" She even crunched around random spots in the snow. It really would be ideal if they had the high ground, but seeing as the noise and shadows were being cast from a roof, they had no choice. Still, maybe they could gain the advantage. Without checking to see if Rosie had covered her ears, Lou pulled her gun from her waistband and shot it at one of the shingles on the museum roof.

"Come out 'n play, motherfucker!"

[mistymountainmonster]

The monster didn't flinch at the gunshot, didn't scurry back like some lesser beast when the bullet splintered the shingles mere inches from where it crouched. Instead, it laughed.

Not Mabel Mae’s laugh—not really—but close enough. Close enough that for a split second, it might have been her, standing just out of reach. No, there was something wrong in the sound, something stretched too thin, too sharp. Something hungry.

The monster moved. Not down, not forward, but around, melting into the dark, slipping along the rooftop as though its body were made of shadow itself. It didn't break eye contact, its jagged teeth catching the faintest gleam of moonlight as it crept. Every motion was deliberate. Slow. It had time.

“You always were stubborn,” it purred, still wearing Mabel’s voice, this time softer. Almost affectionate.

A whisper behind Lou’s ear despite the distance, “Always trying to be brave, Lou. Always trying to be strong.”

It clicked its tongue, the sound echoing unnaturally, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, circling almost lazily. Like this was all a big game, like Lou brandishing a gun was all part of the plan. A gust of wind rattled the splintered wood of the museum sign. Snow crunched—not beneath Lou’s feet this time.

Something shifted behind her.

Too close.

Faster than a breath, faster than thought, the monster’s clawed fingers dragged along the edge of Lou’s jacket—just enough pressure to let her feel it, to let her know it could have done more. Should have done more.

But it wanted to play. It liked to play.

And when it whispered again, its lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear, the voice was no longer Mabel’s. It was Lou's own.

“Come out ‘n play, motherfucker.”

And then—silence.

@loubriccant @rosieroutledge

[paranoeo]

It's harder some days than others. She can still hear the distant and ugly crunch of fingers being trapped in a window, of an ankle cracking upon impact, the terror in Lou's voice when she told her to run as fast and as far away as she could. Her joints ache in the cold, sometimes, muscles screaming the same way they did nearly a decade ago when she was trying to fight her momma off. Peripheral vision can be blurred, and it's like she's seeing things coming at her when they aren't really there. (Or are they?)

Most of the time, on her return to the little cabin she's made a base out of, she feels as though she's being followed. Stalked. Thinks darkly about how it must be the same way the poor animals she hunts feel. She never is being followed, but it doesn't stop her from looking over her shoulder every few yards, ears pricked up the same way that Bear's do, on the lookout for any sign of a pursuer. Shadows dance behind her, the tree branches above sinisterly cast by the moonlight that slips through, contrasted against the snow.

It makes tracking damn easier, at the very least.

She's been on higher alert than usual since that incident before the holidays, the run-in with ... well, she's been referring to it as a basilisk in her own head ever since, even if she doesn't think that's totally right. Whatever the fucker out there is, she knows that Christmas Eve wasn't the last that any of them have seen of it. Would be foolish to expect otherwise, or wishful thinking taken to an extreme. Mabel knows that she's either one of the luckiest Mountaineers around, or one of the unluckiest—suppose it all depends on how you see a half-filled glass.

A few times she thinks she spots something more than just a shadow from a tree. Reckons she can see a faint puff of breath in the cold, one that's too far away to be her own and too high up to be any kind of animal that she's seen around here. It's too high to be a human's, either. That thought alone sets her teeth on edge. But nothing comes at her, and nothing seems to move any of the times that she looks back. It's against her own creed to go investigating where she doesn't need to, so she just hops to, knowing that once she's home safe, she's got a far better chance against whoever (or whatever) could be out there.

The snap! she hears very clearly, though. Doesn't stop her from ascending onto the porch, just slows her movements, steadies them almost. The motion floodlight is on by now, casting streams of light on the stretch just in front of her cabin: she doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to see. It's only when she makes it to the little box bench under her front window that she dares to crane her head around, feeling safe in the knowledge that her rifle is within arm's reach.

[mistymountainmonster]

The monster recoiled the moment it realized its mistake, stepping silently but swiftly back into the safety of the shadows, out of reach of the floodlight’s probing glare. Its movements were deliberate, careful not to disturb another twig or crunch the frost beneath its feet too heavily. It was patient, after all. It could wait.

From its vantage point, it watched Mabel crane her neck, her silhouette taut with the readiness of someone who knew the woods too well to dismiss a sound like that. It admired her caution, the subtle way her fingers hovered near her rifle, her every muscle coiled like a spring. The creature tilted its head, a grotesque mimicry of curiosity, and let a sound escape it - a noise like brittle bones rattling together, faint and rhythmic, a dry, unsettling click that seemed to crawl into the air itself.

When it spoke, its voice was no longer its own. It carried a chilling familiarity, an echo dredged up from Mabel’s nightmares. It was the voice of her mother -sweet yet sour, warm yet rotting at the edges.

“Come here, sweetie!” the words cooed, soft yet dripping with malice, the cadence eerily perfect, as though her mother were standing just beyond the light, waiting for her.

[mistymountainmonster]

The creature moved with a dreadful elegance, its emaciated body stretched unnaturally tall, ribs pressing sharp against translucent, pale flesh. Its joints jutted at sharp angles, bending in ways that defied logic... Fingers, impossibly long and tipped with jagged claws, flexed and scraped soundlessly against the frost-covered bark of the nearby trees.

The creature stopped just outside the museum window, its breath steaming against the frigid air. Tilting its head at an unnatural angle, it extended one skeletal hand, talons clicking softly as they tapped the glass - once, twice. Again.

Its gaunt chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths, fogging the window in uneven bursts. For a moment, the glow of its eyes lingered, scanning the room beyond, before its body folded into the surrounding shadows. A faint smear of condensation remained on the glass, the only trace of its chilling presence.

It scaled the wall with an unsettling ease, claws digging into the stone as if the surface offered no resistance. Perched on the roof, it crouched low, its hunched body blending into the snow-dusted shadows. Its face, sharp and angular, pressed close to the edge of the skylight. Eyes scanned the golden light below. A flicker of movement inside caught its attention, and its lips pulled back in a jagged grin, revealing rows of uneven teeth. Snowflakes drifted onto its shoulders, melting into rivulets that traced along its leathery skin, but it didn’t move. It simply waited, as still and silent as the frozen world around it.

[rosieroutledge]

"How do you think I feel? I basically live here," Rosie pointed out, her pitiful response not helping in the slightest. Feeling like a relic meant you were supposed to want to leave, not stay. But she couldn't leave with Lou. Not yet. They had a good thing going, and even though it was selfish, she wanted to protect it. The outside world would tear it apart.

An explanation was on the tip of her tongue when Lou's follow-up question came. And Rosie legitimately breathed a sight of relief.

"I-y'know... the same. Nothin' all that excitin' happens for me. You missed a good Flurry Festival, though," she shrugged, pointedly not including events from the night that she couldn't remember in her recap. Christmas Eve with Bobby Hugh. And August and Major and the Sheriff. And Baylor Dawson. It was a good story - a great one, even - until you got to the end. Then it wasn't worth the time it took to tell it.

"And what about-"

Rosie was about to turn Lou's question right back onto her, to try and get a straight answer about where the girl had been for the past several weeks, when a distinct sound caught her attention.

Tap. Tap.

The museum was almost always silent, the familiar creak of the front door being pushed open or closed the only indication Rosie ever got that the outside world even existed. Her monotonous life was broken up by various visitors, but they came and went loudly, lively. There were never any subtle intrusions, any tapping at the window.

It wasn't anything to panic about - it could just be kids throwing rocks on their way to stir up some trouble, but with Rosie doubting herself more and more lately, she needed a second opinion.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Lou, stepping from behind the counter to glance out the window.

Nothing.

Kids. It had to be.

[loubriccant]

Whatever Rosie was saying turned to static the moment the tapping pricked Lou's ears. She morphed into someone different, a crazed canine, picking up the scent of something. Fuck getting coffee. She nodded to answer Rosie's question. Yes, of course I heard it. Lou pressed a finger to her lips, indicating if there was a time for them to be quiet, it was now. Beneficial for hearing more, beneficial for not being heard by whoever whatever made the sound. Lou's eyes carefully followed Rosie's to the window. She turned her head all the way down to her shoulder in pure curiosity. A couple steps closer to the window, just to be sure. And Lou was grinning with disbelief, "Not a kid." she pointed to a spot on the window above her and whispered, "The breath marks...Y'know a kid that tall?" Lou placed one hand over the other above her head, " 'Least two feet taller 'an me."

Swiftly, she rushed past Rosie for the flashlight beneath the counter, "I gotta see this shit." If there was a cryptid, or better yet, an alien in Misty Mountain, Lou'd be damned if she didn't get a peek at it. Her innate craving to know was too strong to turn it down. Plus...she stayed strapped. She didn't know the physics with creatures and bullets but if things got messy, she was never defenseless. Never again. With no hesitation whatsoever, Lou hurried to the door, pausing only briefly to look back at Rosie, "You comin'?" And without answer, she crept out into the snow. She moved carefully along the exterior walls of the museum, eyes scanning every inch around her until she reached the window. Lou immediately noticed the lack of footprints, flicked the flashlight on, and turned it upward. Crunch.

Was that Rosie, or something else?

[mistymountainmonster]

The monster crouched lower, pressing its sinewy body flat against the icy tiles as the beam of the flashlights swept closer. It hissed softly, retreating just enough to stay out of sight, its claws scraping faintly against the roof with every deliberate movement. The sound, sharp and metallic, echoed in the stillness, slicing through the cold night air.

From its vantage point, it peered down at them, the faint glimmers of their flashlights bouncing off the snow below. It could see the tension in their stances, the way Lou's grip tightened around her flashlight, the slight quiver in Rosie's voice as she tried to sound brave. The monster's jagged grin widened.

With a fluid motion, it tilted its head down at an unnatural angle, leaning just far enough forward to let the edge of its face catch the faintest glow of Lou's light - a cruel tease, a flicker of a nightmare before it withdrew again into the shadows.

Then, in the voice of Mabel Mae, the same voice Lou hadn’t heard in years but could never forget, it called out.

“Lou... come play with me.”

[knoxcarrigan]

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."

[lieutenantbanks-deactivated2025]

A light shone at the end of the lot, the snow around them glistening as Lulu searched in the dark for any sign of her brother. He was impossible to miss: a six-foot-something giant surely couldn't just go missing in the night. There was no sign of blood in the white blanket of snow around her, not even another human's footprints that gave her any direction where her brother could be.

Numb from the cold, Lulu hardly flinched as the jacket laid over her shoulders. She'd nearly forgotten he wasn't supposed to be seen here: he had to go inside, she needed to find her brother. The blonde began to shake her head, though the motion hardly reflected as she found herself frozen.

"No, he's--I heard him, that was his voice. Major!" she called once more. Lulu fell to the snow, knees buckling as her bare feet went numb. "You need to go back inside, okay? Someone's gonna see you out here. I need to find him. I don't care how long it takes."

His scream had been one of pain, and like hell was she going to let her brother die out here. The one job she'd employed herself with, from the moment he was born, was to keep Major alive. No one else was going to do it: not her parents, who, for all purposes couldn't even keep themselves alive, and Major would've been six feet under by now if he'd been left to his own devices. She'd heard him, he was out here, and not even Knox, nor the threat of midnight drawing near, could get her back inside.

[mistymountainmonster]

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.

[mistymountainmonster]

The creature had been observing her for what felt like an eternity, concealed in the shadows of the woods. Its gaze was locked on Mabel as she gracefully moved through the trees. Each time she entered her cabin, she danced around the traps she had meticulously set, avoiding them with a skill that both baffled and captivated the creature. It was as though she possessed an innate understanding of the forest, surpassing its own knowledge, and it couldn't resist the allure of her silent precision and unwavering resolve. On this particular night, with the ground blanketed in frost and the air heavy with the chill of winter, the monster made a choice. It followed behind her, its steps light and deliberate, mirroring her every move. The snow crunched softly beneath its feet, the cold penetrating its skin as it matched her pace, maintaining just enough distance to remain undetected. It was an unsettling imitation, akin to a shadow that had gained autonomy, and it discovered a hypnotic quality in the rhythm of her journey. However, as she approached the porch, the monster's foot inadvertently snagged a concealed twig, snapping it with a sharp crack that pierced the tranquility of the night. It froze, its breath suspended, its gaze fixed on Mabel's back, uncertain if she would turn, if she would hear it - or if, perhaps, she was already aware.

@paranoeo

[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?"

[lieutenantbanks-deactivated2025]

It at least made her feel better to have someone with her while who knew what was going on out there: not that Lulu believed that it was anything other than some idiots pulling pranks on her, but still. The trailer was loosely secured by the same lock she once had to break after realizing Major had lost the spare and there was no way for the two of them to get inside. If not her brother himself here, at least there was someone who seemed to care enough about her to not just run at the sight of danger.

"A mirror?" she parroted, shooting him a look of confusion as she rose from the carpet and toward the bathroom. Lulu could've done her makeup with her eyes closed at this point in her life: she didn't have much use for a mirror anymore, but the one in the drawer had been her mother's, and while she did have the heart to ignore her existence now, she didn't have it in her to get rid of it.

At least she now proved herself good for something.

"You're not gonna use this to watch us kiss, are you?" Lulu questioned, only half teasing as she handed it over. "Y'know, I've done some interesting stuff, but this'd be a first. Not that I'm judging: we don't kink shame in this here trailer of mine," she asserted, holding her hands up innocently as a smirk peered through. "If that's what we're doin'. I still haven't got an answer from you."

[mistymountainmonster]

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!"

[rosieroutledge]

"How do you think I feel? I basically live here," Rosie pointed out, her pitiful response not helping in the slightest. Feeling like a relic meant you were supposed to want to leave, not stay. But she couldn't leave with Lou. Not yet. They had a good thing going, and even though it was selfish, she wanted to protect it. The outside world would tear it apart.

An explanation was on the tip of her tongue when Lou's follow-up question came. And Rosie legitimately breathed a sight of relief.

"I-y'know... the same. Nothin' all that excitin' happens for me. You missed a good Flurry Festival, though," she shrugged, pointedly not including events from the night that she couldn't remember in her recap. Christmas Eve with Bobby Hugh. And August and Major and the Sheriff. And Baylor Dawson. It was a good story - a great one, even - until you got to the end. Then it wasn't worth the time it took to tell it.

"And what about-"

Rosie was about to turn Lou's question right back onto her, to try and get a straight answer about where the girl had been for the past several weeks, when a distinct sound caught her attention.

Tap. Tap.

The museum was almost always silent, the familiar creak of the front door being pushed open or closed the only indication Rosie ever got that the outside world even existed. Her monotonous life was broken up by various visitors, but they came and went loudly, lively. There were never any subtle intrusions, any tapping at the window.

It wasn't anything to panic about - it could just be kids throwing rocks on their way to stir up some trouble, but with Rosie doubting herself more and more lately, she needed a second opinion.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Lou, stepping from behind the counter to glance out the window.

Nothing.

Kids. It had to be.

[loubriccant]

Whatever Rosie was saying turned to static the moment the tapping pricked Lou's ears. She morphed into someone different, a crazed canine, picking up the scent of something. Fuck getting coffee. She nodded to answer Rosie's question. Yes, of course I heard it. Lou pressed a finger to her lips, indicating if there was a time for them to be quiet, it was now. Beneficial for hearing more, beneficial for not being heard by whoever whatever made the sound. Lou's eyes carefully followed Rosie's to the window. She turned her head all the way down to her shoulder in pure curiosity. A couple steps closer to the window, just to be sure. And Lou was grinning with disbelief, "Not a kid." she pointed to a spot on the window above her and whispered, "The breath marks...Y'know a kid that tall?" Lou placed one hand over the other above her head, " 'Least two feet taller 'an me."

Swiftly, she rushed past Rosie for the flashlight beneath the counter, "I gotta see this shit." If there was a cryptid, or better yet, an alien in Misty Mountain, Lou'd be damned if she didn't get a peek at it. Her innate craving to know was too strong to turn it down. Plus...she stayed strapped. She didn't know the physics with creatures and bullets but if things got messy, she was never defenseless. Never again. With no hesitation whatsoever, Lou hurried to the door, pausing only briefly to look back at Rosie, "You comin'?" And without answer, she crept out into the snow. She moved carefully along the exterior walls of the museum, eyes scanning every inch around her until she reached the window. Lou immediately noticed the lack of footprints, flicked the flashlight on, and turned it upward. Crunch.

Was that Rosie, or something else?

[mistymountainmonster]

The creature perched above them, its gaunt frame blending seamlessly into the snow-dusted roofline, emaciated limbs coiling like tightly wound springs. The beam of Lou’s flashlight swept dangerously close, forcing it to pull back into the shadows, and despite the fleeting threat of discovery, it felt something close to joy... a twisted exhilaration at the game unfolding below. Its jagged teeth glinted into a grin, it's head tilted at an unnatural angle to follow their movements. These humans, with their little lights and cautious steps, were walking right into its hands.

It leaned forward again, just far enough that it could see the,, but they COULD NOT see it.... Then, soft and low, its voice whispered, "Marco." The game was only just beginning.

It would have been a chilling encounter no matter the context, but what made it worse? The familiarity in the whisper... It was the voice of Lou's sister, Mabel Mae, fragile and trembling, yes, but unmistakable. The single word hung in the frigid air like an icicle poised to drop.

[knoxcarrigan]

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."

[lieutenantbanks-deactivated2025]

The lack of detail in description only made Lulu's gaze narrow, honed in on what part of him was working so diligently to conceal something from her. Maybe it was the same part that had her beginning to question whether she really had been drugged the other night, or if the ghost of a woman she could see in flashes of memory had been real. Admitting she could still feel her meant that there was a chance she was real.

But the Gazette had told her she'd been drugged, so that had to have been the truth, right?

The croon of Stevie Nicks' voice brought her back to here: the room, the boy standing on the other side of it, the whiskey bottle cradled in her arms, the cheap champagne laid ceremoniously on the carpet in some silly display of celebration. Congratulations, they'd made it to the beginning of what was already shaping up to be a year just as turbulent as the last.

"'Course I did. I just didn't know, y'know ... maybe they were missin' some details, is all," she replied with a shrug, taking the pressure off him. Despite her own minor scrape coming from the cemetery, he had been the one with his name written in the paper for his injuries. "We don't have to talk about it," Lulu was quick to add, beckoning him with a nudge of her head and the extension of the bottle to return to her side.

"I've gotta proposition for you." One she had put a bit more thought into than any other time she'd ever made an advance on someone, though Lulu would argue this was not to be taken seriously, whatsoever. "One to lighten the mood a bit. Just 'cause it's New Years, n'all, y'know, when midnight hits, we should just ... kiss, right? Doesn't have to be weird, just two friends on New Years, just for fun."

[mistymountainmonster]

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.

[rosieroutledge]

Rosie hadn't seen Lou in weeks, so she had zero reason to think that she'd be showing up at the museum any time soon.

And that was... fine. Really.

Theirs was a friendship that had come into being unexpectedly, their tentative bond forged through pre and post-support group conversations. Over time, Rosie had come to look forward to the meetings, a tedious hour with her father and his good intentions transformed into little moments of intrigue. But just as quickly as a friendship can start, it can end, and it appeared that things had run their course.

Or, so she'd thought. But as her workday began to come to an end, Rosie heard a familiar whistle drawing closer, Lou's face soon popping into view.

"Oh. Hey," she nodded in return, her instant excitement at having not lost yet another friend severely dulled by the fact that Lou had been MIA for weeks.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. That you're feelin' good about it all. We were worried about you, bein' gone for so long," she acknowledged a beat later, the words coming out a little forced. There was an underlying dubiousness at play, with Rosie not 100% believing that Lou was, in fact, sober. But what else was she meant to say? It was a voluntary group. If Lou didn't have anything that made showing up worthwhile, then...

Coffee. Right. There it was. The one issue they'd run into from the moment they'd started speaking. Rosie had gone off to college and gotten better about not caring about what other people think, but some hurdles had proved larger than others. Claiming a friendship with Lou, publicly, would definitely cause drama. And in a time where she was already rocking the boat, she wasn't sure if she could handle it if hanging out with Lou was the thing that sent her overboard.

It had been safer to spend time together at the museum. Less complicated than bringing their tentative friendship out into the real world. So Rosie tried to spin it, brightening at the fact that Lou hadn't given up on her entirely.

"We are people," she pointed out. "And we can have coffee here, while I work. You know no one ever comes in here durin' the day except for Bobby Hugh. As for The Satanic Verses, after I've read it we could do a book club. Also here. Convenient, right?"

[loubriccant]

Her sudden reappearance had gone over better with Rosie than she'd anticipated. Lou nodded idly as the other did her best to be supportive of her choices, but she could tell her heart wasn't really in it. Or maybe she was just sensing some false-heartedness around the group missing her. Either way, it wasn't her main concern. Moreso something to get out of the way. But Lou's good will only stretched so far. She half listened as Rosie doled out non-answers about going to coffee and offered reasons to stay at the museum. It had been a while now she suspected mistrust between them, fear on her end, maybe. And perhaps it was for good reason, but that didn't make Lou any less tired of waiting on a chance. Sure, she had screwed up lots of chances with other people, but what she was chasing with Rosie was entirely different. It was intellectual stimulation. Something else. A soft spot. A yearning for friendship that existed in a significant way. Lou knew she might not deserve it, but that fear wasn't enough to stop her pursuit. When Rosie finished, she drew out a sigh, circling her finger into the wood of a nearby table, "I feel more like a relic than a person when all we do is hang out here." Lou said bluntly, eyebrows raised "And it sounds more suspicious than convenient to me." Once she said it, her face relaxed. What more was there to be said on the topic? She wasn't going to throw a fit over it and leave, but she wasn't going to let Rosie think she didn't see right through her either. Lou would move on, be totally normal and 'sober' with her response--

"How you been last couple-a-weeks?"

[mistymountainmonster]

The creature moved with a dreadful elegance, its emaciated body stretched unnaturally tall, ribs pressing sharp against translucent, pale flesh. Its joints jutted at sharp angles, bending in ways that defied logic... Fingers, impossibly long and tipped with jagged claws, flexed and scraped soundlessly against the frost-covered bark of the nearby trees.

The creature stopped just outside the museum window, its breath steaming against the frigid air. Tilting its head at an unnatural angle, it extended one skeletal hand, talons clicking softly as they tapped the glass - once, twice. Again.

Its gaunt chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths, fogging the window in uneven bursts. For a moment, the glow of its eyes lingered, scanning the room beyond, before its body folded into the surrounding shadows. A faint smear of condensation remained on the glass, the only trace of its chilling presence.

It scaled the wall with an unsettling ease, claws digging into the stone as if the surface offered no resistance. Perched on the roof, it crouched low, its hunched body blending into the snow-dusted shadows. Its face, sharp and angular, pressed close to the edge of the skylight. Eyes scanned the golden light below. A flicker of movement inside caught its attention, and its lips pulled back in a jagged grin, revealing rows of uneven teeth. Snowflakes drifted onto its shoulders, melting into rivulets that traced along its leathery skin, but it didn’t move. It simply waited, as still and silent as the frozen world around it.