Gabbi chuckled, ever good-natured. So this wasn't a child of the veil, seeking answers, seeking guidance. no, this was a soul who wasn't saved, and that was it's own shame, but more surprising was the fact that Gabbi didn't know her. An Unfamiliar, unsaved woman. New signs from the Cailleach.
Gabbi pulled her chair up and pushed herself beside Ronnie.
"It's just a way of saying hello. our way." She looked ronnie up and down. "I don't know you, stranger. How long have you been at Ridge Harbor?"
"Hello, then, I guess." Ronnie shifted, uncomfortable under the woman's gaze. Stranger, the woman called her. Yup. Ronnie was that. A stranger in a strange town. "And, uh, not long," she answered, evasively. "What about you?" She didn't really want to ask, if she were being honest, but it was polite or whatever, and besides, asking about someone else usually got you out of talking about yourself.
"No, no hey, I'm not accusing you," Eve said, throwing her hands up to her sides in some vain act of defense. Evidence gathering was arduous with this society – with how these people were avoidant with giving her a direct answer, with how they simply refused to give something that wasn't hidden behind the veneer of their religion.
Eve shifted foot to foot and gave a sigh, allowing her arms to fully drop to the side, "Look, it's just about making sure I have all the facts, make sure we can rule people out, I'm not pointing fingers at you, I just want to know where you were last night, okay?"
Ronnie shrugged. She wasn't used to the question. She'd never stayed long enough in a town to learn their laws, let alone deal with law enforcement. She thought law enforcement was a little ridiculous, given the world they lived in. But here was an actual cop, just like in stories from long before Ronnie was born and everyone didn't fend for themselves.
"I was at home," she said. "I had dinner, and then I slept. Alone." Ronnie lived in a small, unimpressive house in a neighborhood near the coast. Or perhaps she was squatting in the house. The house had been empty, so she moved in. No one had told her if there were any rules about who could live where, or if she'd needed to pay for it or something. But Ronnie wasn't about to tell that to some random-ass cop.
"Think we should be scared?" Vera's voice held anything but fear, only excited interest at the recent turn of events in her new home. People died. That happened. But people dying in such interesting ways, a town reacting so strangely? She ate it up. Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the town's tavern, leaning in over the bartop to the companion who had just joined her.
Ronnie looked at the girl just down the bar from her. She didn't seem scared. But then, the young never were. There was an invincibility that came with youth, right up until it didn't. "Why?" Ronnie asked, after a moment. "Does this sort of thing happen often around here?" She wasn't about to show her own fear to this girl, but the whole thing unsettled her.
There was no curfew in Ridge Harbor, but the lights were all controlled by solar power. While they charged in the day and worked at night, it was a finite supply in the power banks. To preserve it, the lights outside were scarcer. most kept their lanterns near their doors and went inside when nightfall came.
Tonight, Gabbi went for a stroll.
She just felt a tugging in her gut, like someone might need council. She wasn't always right, but tonight of all nights, it was worth checking out. So she made a quick round of the town's best walkways, pausing when she noticed a figure slouched back on a bench. "Who's out here so late?" she called, wheeling in a bit closer. "The entity redeemeth, friend."
"Yeah, I don't know what the fuck that means," Ronnie said, though not unkindly, knowing she wouldn't be able to get out of a conversation. The entity redeemeth. She had heard that before over the last two weeks. She hadn't quite put together that it had to do with the weird church, or that the church was in control of the town - not until today. There was something very wrong with this place, Ronnie was realizing. Beyond the murder, there was something below the surface.
It was late at night, and Ronnie was sitting on a park bench. Maybe it wasn't late. Maybe it was just dark. But still, it was a park bench. Ronnie took some deep breaths, and tried to think. They'd found a body. Ronnie had been here not two weeks before death came to the one place she'd seen and thought she might be able to stay. She'd probably have to leave soon, now. A whole town full of potential murderers. She was better off alone. She was always better off alone.
Ronnie sighed. She'd just gotten settled into a little house. She'd been trying to figure out a job. And now everything was complicated.
Then came the sound of wheels on the dirt path, and Ronnie leaned back into the bench, trying to make herself sink into the darkness.
She had been named Veronica after her grandmother, who had died just before Ronnie was born. At least, that’s what she had been told. For as long as Ronnie could remember, her family was dead. She lived with a group of other orphans. They took care of each other. The older ones taught Ronnie to hunt and forage, and she in turn looked after any younger ones they picked up along their journey. For the most part, they were few in number. Some kids stayed, some left. They were a close-knit group, but they didn’t hold each other back - you couldn’t, not in this savage world in which they lived.
Things got…weird as the majority of the children grew to be teenagers. Not a bad type of weird, not at first. At first, their nights spent as a collective were hormonal and sexy and fun and Ronnie felt like it pulled them all together in a way that was closer and more important than ever before. But jealousy set in - Ronnie wasn’t even sure when it started, just that it was suddenly overwhelming. Arguments and distrust spread like wildfire, and tensions between everyone devolved quickly. Then, one fateful night, someone was found in someone else’s bed. In hindsight, it probably didn’t matter who - the resulting violence was inevitable, a pot waiting to boil over.
Ronnie doesn’t regret defending herself. She told herself she had no choice. It was her or them. In the end, she stabbed three people, and she doesn’t regret it. The murder, though, that she regrets. She and Cole were close. They’d had each other's backs, two peas in a pod since they were taught how to set traps for bunnies together. And when he came for her, shouting that if he couldn’t have her, no one could, she slashed and slashed until he was no longer a threat. And then she ran. And then she cried. But she never looked back.
After that, Ronnie didn’t stay in one place very long. She allied herself with people, occasionally, when she stumbled upon them, but she never got close. Whenever her connections seemed like they were verging on deepening, she would run. She would never put herself in that position again. She wouldn’t trust, and wouldn’t stay.
The next twenty years of her life, as a result, were boring. But she survived. She always did. Ridge Harbor isn’t the first community she’s stumbled across, but it is the biggest. It’s vast, and full of fascinating people. But it also scares her. The faith, in particular. People are too close here. There’s too much risk. But it’s beautiful, and people have real families here. And so perhaps, just for a little bit longer, she’ll stay.
