softcore.

"'s alright." soft. as rylee always was. while lips lightly curled in appreciation — her heart slightly throbbed. vacancy from someone who once loved her so deeply — a piece of her children. their father. the chill of the air kept her sigh from depleting in one huff. the air slowly seeped out giving her a minimal relief.

dilara held such a warmth in her presence. something rylee felt eased around. kindness ran deep, and the woman wouldn't let it go unnoticed. "appreciate ye." gentle. "i make a mean cuppa tea if ye ever want to have more company. can always splash a little of that in it." brows lifted at the bottle. "a night on the lash." eyes mirrored the same sincerity. "the girls have been having a lot of..." the pause — forced by the uncomfort of her children's pain. "nightmares. 's bad enough that the town is full of horrors, but their mind ? when they're supposed to have a restful mind ? hate it." the rest of her held breath now slipped out fully. it felt like a relief to talk about topics rylee harbored for the sake of her daughters.

“ In the tea? ” Dilara asked, more surprised than she shouldn’t have been by the comment. It wasn’t unheard of to spice up one’s coffee - though she’s never done - but tea was news to her. Her mother would have a heart attack if she ever got back to tell her about it. “ I mean, for sure. ” She said, after a moment of taking it in. If there was ever a place to try new things, Arcadia had to be it, no?

Dee brought her knees up to her chest, stuffing her cold fingers behind her knees for additional warmth and comfort. As much as she missed her sweet Emre, Dilara could only thank the heavens for the distance placed between them. Though it hurt her like hell to be away from him, she could be confident that he wouldn’t miss her too much. A few months perhaps, given his age, but then he’d easily forget about her. Alana had barely been a few weeks old when Dee arrived here. Soon enough none of them would remember a life with mom. “ Not even the innocent get spared here. ” she commented, shaking her head with distaste. The things in the woods were bad enough for them to process - hell, the nightmares that took over them had felt more vivid than being awake. In the midst of all her brain rot, Dilara hadn’t put much thought onto what the little ones in Arcadia felt. “ We’ll figure something out. ”

THE END

#end.

saintlcss

A twitched mouth, contorted shortly, but with no parted condolence: family, people who arrived here not alone but with a stretched hand that met with another. Hell shared. It was with some small relief that Jude had remained as she had lived. Alone. Brought into being by something now only a fractured memory, the closest thing to family some black-eyed trust between children with names that had been forgotten. Always brief, facile. Care was only torturous, clutched to here when creature lingered in every shadow. The end of each of them loomed. For the first time, she had only dipped into the shallow of a heart, found it already so ruinous. It could only ache more to feel, she would not confirm it. “You need somewhere away from them to cry.” Jude nodded, did not raise it as question, the lull of her voice swallowed by the emptiness of what lay to rot. Further solitude still sought out even in the vacuum of her own life, to think in the still where the frost had not yet met the sky. “Four does sound like four kids too many.”

“Yeah, couldn’t say no to the stench of cow shit, what can I say?” Nearly a decade, time difficult to make anything of. Stuck with herself. No longer the place she had stumbled upon, desolate and rotten. Some staggered days of fog, cleared only by the familiar sight of slanted wood against earth. What she had made it now—serviceable and functional. The place she hid, more hers than anything that had been. Each sunrise met without much pause, work rather than peace found. "If you need a break you could always tire them kids out with a ranch sunrise." Not a usual offer, to disturb herself but an acknowledgment of the relief of a busied hand could not be hoarded.

it had been the truth. the car hadn't served any of it's previous purpose. now only a taunting reminder of all the places it had gone. ones wheels couldn't spin onward to. rusting away, it now was a small space to harbor her feelings into. stow them away somewhere so rylee hadn't need to carry burdening emotions back to a home she tried to keep bright. safe. managing four children in a world such a this had been a tough job. even for the most strong willed. a small smile cracked. almost ached in the cold air. she'd become so stiff. stained in painful emotions before they were wiped from the fabric of her sleeve. "sometimes."the exchange felt like a pleasantry. easing the air thin, "they're all pretty stacked in age... thought the toddler era had been chaos. got a teenager. one teen alone is a handful." truthful, even through a laugh, rylee hated admitting the motherly struggles. normal days kept her grinning through it all — even if her molars had ached.

jude. humor, even though dry, or not intended — rylee felt her body relax in the others company. "i appreciate it." it was unspoken, but rylee knew she'd been translucent to necessity. asking for help in even a slivering ounce had always been frowned on as weak. a mother should be able to have balance, without struggle. whoever set that standard had been an absolute twat. "'suppose if ye ever want t' escape the smell of shite — my door is open. can't promise much space for ye to tire yerself out in, but baked muffins, and a hot cuppa tea might put ye into a good slumber."

It hadn’t occurred to her that those whom she loves could also find themselves stuck here in Arcadia. That her having gotten stuck here would lead to her siblings, parents, or even kids also ending up here. It made sense, of course, having encountered Shaw who she knew from her past but the image of her husband and children also coming through whatever veil glued this town to the rest of the world terrifying her immensely. Though Rylee did not look in her direction as she spoke, Dilara was given enough information to understand. Alec had found himself here but did not encounter a similar sentence. Her eyes closed in mourning for this man she had never met. For the children who did not deserve the pain of losing a parent on top of losing their freedom, and for Rylee who - unlike her girls - had the imprint of all that happened polluting her brain.

“ I’m so sorry. ” Dilara apologized, wishing she could reach over to offer some comfort but understanding that the touch may not be wanted in her grief. “ I can’t begin to imagine the world of - ” she stopped herself from finishing the sentence. Nothing that she said could help ease the pain Rylee felt, but she understood well the strength of a mother pushing through hell. “ If you ever need anything - anything at all - do feel free to approach me. I won’t claim to feel your pain, I don’t think anybody really can, but you’re not alone. You know? In a place like this, we have to help each other any way we can. If anything for the children. ”

saintlcss

It was unduly cold. Bones sharp and contorted with some youthfulness that ought not to be found in something as weathered. Cut against the wind, the metal beneath the thigh almost damp in its sting. It had been terribly mild before. Before this winter that had come only to take. The years before only knew some imitation of weather, seasons had seemed too alive and changeable to be replicated, accepted as another dead thing here. Jude flexed out the hardness settled in her hands, the ice pick against muscles. She thought to leave, return to a hearth still burning—despite, despite—it had been left only for some semblance of her mind to be found. That out in the earth she might find some segment of it left in the dirt between the fields and trees. Now she longed to return to the heat, where she could not quite meet eyes—unfit and always in the wrong place. She shifted and stilled.

Hell. A raised brow, some knowing wilted amusement. Well enough of them called it such before. Hell Town, nowhere, the abyss. Purgatory. It relied on who you asked, on what day. The beings brought here—stuck here—not together but bowed before the same fate. Even those who fell to their knees to beg and scream for salvation, to worship at the base of a tree. The world had chewed and spat, the other side of the grave much colder. Dead things that were supposed to stay buried. Buried things that were supposed to stay dead. The soil rolled off them all, still lose when some life clung to them. Even though Jude took little notice of them, those who came and went, she could tell the new inhabitants by that alone. The clawing at the door between before and now left such marks.

Jude nodded, exchanged cold air for fog. “For now.” Cruelness was not intended, a barb made only of fatigue. Reality. Survival was not kept with any sense of determination or valiance. Even as the years grew. Hell had been lived in simply enough with some contrary instinct not to be taken by it. To not let another thing bite. “You have kids, right?” The other woman was placed finally, there, among the torment of faces too round and small for such a place. She flinched. “You come here for peace and quiet?”

a nod. "four girls." rylee's eyes strayed from the other. just briefly. knowing that the knowledge of her having children in a place like such always came paired with pity. with a heavy heart. condolences. the toe of her shoe lightly kicked some of the melting snow. it slushed to the side giving her a momentary distraction. arcadia would be more digestible if rylee had been here alone. her husband, dear friend, and daughters kept safe on the outside. free. "all here." the bitterness of the cold was warm in comparison to the bitterness the town had been. a town of such cruelty. unapologetic. "could say so." the woman's chin turned back toward jude. there wasn't a need to push any pleasantries. no squeezing out any lasting energy to provide a sunny disposition. the car graveyard allowed the woman to reveal a demeanor that had been hidden during most hours of the day. kept secret from the hope filled daughters. "really, a place to cry." rylee laughed as the truth unveiled itself.

perhaps jude would understand the reasons why rylee would need to spill in secret. a tender understanding of how much hell town drained a person. no matter the composure. "— but it is quiet. certainly a wee break in the constant buzzing that comes with having children. not paired well with dissociation. got to be 'on' at all times..." rylee stepped a bit closer to the car jude sat upon. "quite exhausting sometimes if im bein' honest... and ye ?" pleasantries. not beam the light only upon herself. "stay at the ranch, right ? must be beautiful at sunrise out there."

hartlings

''I'm sorry,'' her lower lip quivered, her eyes saddened at the horrors she'd put the girls through, for a woman who disliked apologies she couldn't be sorry enough to those she loved. ''I really hoped you wouldn't have...'' heard the aftermath of the night terror that had taken over her mental health. Ophelia nodded to Rylee's words, it made sense to think this place was doing this shit to them. Nothing made sense about this place anyway, all it had done was torment them time and time again. She couldn't imagine how other people kept their sanity for so long, especially those who'd been here for year after year.

''What's it they've been dreaming of?'' She shot a quick glance towards the girls, especially Freya who was entering an era of teenage years where she tried to uphold herself tougher than she actually was. Her attention was brought back to the moment when Rylee's fingers met the back of her freckled hand and she couldn't deny the comfort that was offered. The redhead scooted a bit closer so they touched arms and she ran her thumb over Rylee's to soothe her in return. The care Rylee had for her, Ophelia always wanted to give it back tenfold and wrapped an arm around her to let her friend rest against her. ''What do you suggest? Cuss God, or should we take it up with the devil? Ugh...I could go for a glass of wine right now. I wish we were at the cabin right now, sitting at the pier and staring at the sunset with some wine in hand.'' Like the good old times.

'A spider, there's a spider on your hair!' The second oldest screeched at the youngest darling which made Molly jump around, scream and ruffle her hair to get the spider off of her. She threw the hammer to the ground and spun around in a hurry, screaming for her family for help. Ophelia nudged Rylee to remain seated, she got this and got off the ground without dusting off her pants like she usually would.

''Hey, hey Molls, I think you got it,'' she got a hold of the girl's shoulders to calm her down and squatted down to get on her eye level. ''You're alright, dear, the spider's long gone,'' she cupped the girl's cheek and made sure the girl picked up on her auntie's calm energy before she took a look at the girl's hair and ran her fingers through the wild strands, ''look at you, your hair's all ruined, all your mom's hard work gone!'' She feigned a gasp, but before Molly had a chance to react, she tickled the girl all over and made her laugh until she couldn't anymore. With ease Ophelia had picked Molly up into her arms and brought her with her back towards Rylee where she sat with the girl in her arms. ''Giving this little one a break from the playground, you're not hurt, are you, Molls? No spider bites, no glass anywhere, no ouchies?'' She made sure with a silly tone to her voice, checking the little doll from head to toe before feigning a bite against her cheek with a growl that made Molly screech from laughter. ''See, Molly's totally fine, we won't have to expect a spiderwoman in our midst anytime soon. I think.''

"dunno..." rylee thought as a mother she should carry all answers organically. when she didn't, it left her feeling failed. the sense of letting down the people she cared for most had always wilted away at her. "freya mentioned a dark figure.." fingers lightly squeezed ophelia's hand. her mind naturally seeking the comfort as her body felt afraid for her family. "she thinks maybe it's alec...but doesn't know... she just wakes in a pool of sweat." rylee's tongue slid along her lips, biding her time. this hadn't been a conversation she wanted to have. maybe if she didn't say it out in the open it wouldn't hold so much truth to their reality. "sometimes i can't even wake her..she just shakes." — and there was nothing rylee could do but soothe a hand through the girls hair, and hold her while the nightmare clung.

"does sound lovely, phelia." a small grin began to crack at the corners of her mouth. "might even invite the ol' devil to have a glass of wine with us." if that's what it took for such torment to halt. "he...the devil's got to be a he.." a nod, almost matter of fact. "might even enjoy the view of the lake." it was a beautiful sight. one that was branded to rylee's inner clarity. sometimes she just needed a deep breath and the thought of that cabin few to keep her peace at bay.

the blonde jumped — startled at the girls screams. always on edge. her eyes watched ophelia unflinchingly handle the situation. rylee knew moments like this made her eyes briefly squeeze tight to give thanks for putting ophelia into her orbit. "no superhero ? oh, but i thought ye had a cape somewhere ?" a small claim to molly's hidden identity. something comical. imaginative. the youngest had a curing laughter. all clouds parted at the sound. "god, yer hair is a mess, molls." mothering fingers ran through the tangles. braids pulled apart. "got to give ye the ultimate superhero braids now."

Dilara shook her head at the question, shifting in place so she could better focus on the woman besides her. Simply based on his lack of presence, Dilara had assumed he was back in the… real world?... If that was even the proper way to acknowledge their homes. That he, much like her entire family, were simply lucky enough to have made it through whatever glitch had gotten them stuck in this forsaken town. It wouldn’t have been too outlandish a reality, but based on the trajectory of their current conversation, Dee felt like perhaps that was not the way it had been. Her heart sank at the thought of the children having possibly lived through, or worse been witnessed to their father’s demise. “ I don’t. Just kind of assumed he was safely out of here. ” Or hoped.

Having her children outside of Arcadia was the only thing keeping her sane enough to push through this. She could only think of how strong Rylee was to be able to do it all with all of her girls here. To keep her head leveled despite the horror that plagued the earth they stood on. Her vision wandered over to the treeline beyond them, curiously looking through the trees as if she’d be able to make out the creatures awaiting just beyond. Ready to devour them all the moment the sky shifted. “ But, I take it, that’s not the case. Is it? ” she asked, turning back to watch Rylee with a saddened expression.

if there had been a safety in death — dilara was right, her daughters father was safe. safe away from the torment of this trapped town. silenced from fear. rylee's heart had a way of thumping harder along the topic. often carrying palpitations of anxiety, the woman felt these ones slow...but still carry harshness. the loss of him, alec, was a moment she hadn't allowed herself to mourn. not in full. it was only in spare moments. a moment away to her abandoned car, or her knees becoming damp from the soil that alec had been buried beneath. her tears soaking within failing to have him grow into anything but a empty vessel.

cold pinched her cheeks red. "no." rylee couldn't lift her gaze to dee. not yet. too afraid that she would unravel that outer strength. eyes instead, watched her feet kick the melting snow that rested on the porch. "ye know, it was just me, and three of my daughters at first." brows furrowed. "for a few months i thought my oldest daughter, alec, and..." lungs pinched, "ophelia had been safe... but then they ended up here too..." how did that work ? so many questions left unanswered. left the woman confused. "none if it makes sense, i suppose. — but," thankful for the small sips "a few weeks after the others came...i dunno, really... alec just..." rylee didn't know how to speak on what her mind couldn't explain, or what her stomach couldn't digest. "his body was found outside of the woods. just... shredded apart." the beds of her eye lids stung. "the girls didn't see him." thankful. "..but some images ye just can't rid from ye mind."

baarra

He does as he is bid, always: to closely follow. As warm shadow follows stark light. Cold-footed. Rose-cheeked. Dead nerves burgeon within a mother’s house, a child’s home. Memory in its over-swallowed beauty. The numb parts of it string up the pink innards, parting the meat thinner and thinner like pulled spit. Any stain swept under the single picture frame, that would revolve through every face, barely pausing enough to see its features. It would remember your colour, but neither your pore nor your name. Not even your eye. If your mother wanted to be forgotten and then recalled in full, she should’ve allowed more than a glimpse. More than a side-long perch. Air, decanter-ed. It should’ve been like this. A tow-headed length, silver in some slants, lingering at the blurred edge of night. Your maw, trenching. ‘ Consider yourself stolen then, ’ he says absently, looking over each of her shoulders, tracing every nook the house lends. With her back drawn to him, he peruses. Crumpled paper dirtied by prints and waxen pen alike; its incriminating nubs all huddled behind a little table. Unseen and, thus, unpunished. ‘ Do you always furnish to forgive? ’ He catches in the living room, like breath in your throat. Those places you could never see while living. But for your final moments: when you fall from eye to bleeding heart. This, from others, you have seen. This, you have breathed in and tasted its copper sweat. You smile at her. Despite. It doesn’t hold true, but extends its ghost-hand all the same. ‘ It’d be cruel to forget now. Wouldn’t it? ’

the sound of water filling the cast iron inside of the old kettle soothed parts of rylee. those hidden corners that were too overshadowed by running pairs of feet, needy minds — her daughters. this moment was a tender pause in the time she was needed. a moment to gaze out the kitchen window and allow her mind to drift somewhere more quiet. drift to a softness her children didn't provide throughout the day. " 'suppose i dunno how to unfold any other way." now, she softened still after the water was turned off. children occupied by the new excitement of having their own rooms. rylee, along with the girls, had been too stiff to be independent. they all had been sleeping together — limbs tangled in fear of loosening without the other during the night. " it's not much," taking notice of him glancing around, "but we make what we can." almost an apologetic tone. rylee placed the kettle on the stove top with a light clank. "i let the girls draw on walls and what not. let them have any freedom they can have in a place like such." the irish woman moved to the dining room table, hoping he'd sit. "don' suppose ye draw on your walls ?" smile was kind — always offering some warmth.

flcnnerys

Chase didn’t always get himself bent out of shape at not meeting the same success his sisters did. Annaliese told him one time that it was impossible to measure and compare, because they were different people and they were all also years ahead of him - she had said she didn’t think she felt too together when she was his age. Still, though, he was getting older now, a life on pause now that he was a fresh, unwilling participant of Hell Town. It would have been nice to know if he could have gone the distance, if he hadn’t ended up here.

He tips an imaginary hat at the compliment - at least he could compartmentalize, he had that much going for him. And Chase wasn’t sure if she was only saying all this to be polite, or because she actually meant it, but he beamed a bit at hearing someone talk so highly of artists. In their circle of rich friends, the Flannerys often viewed kids who went off to be artistes as moochers who were freeloading off their parents to go and find themselves - in his own defense, at least he had put in the work. He was right on the brink of something special before the supernatural talons of Arcadia got their claws into him. “You might want to reconsider, in a place like this,” he said, his smile a bit wry. “I love what I can do, but I kinda wish I had more special skills.”

rylee had been certain. cemented to her words spoken. unflinching, the woman eased her smile faintly. how different chase and his siblings had been raised in comparison to how rylee shaped her own daughters. there wasn't a firm judgment other than dampering the young man's dreams. discouragment dimmed light. "ye just aren't aware of thee skills ye already have. they're in there somewhere." positivity had been confident.

"now c'mon. got to get ye away from these plants before you start talking nonesense about not having any skills or something." she humored, a gentle hand resting to his shoulder. "i'll put a kettle on. we can chat over a cup o' tea upstairs. alright ?" rylee kept the emotional door open of creating a safe space for chase to feel welcome in. if he needed someone to talk to — she'd be there.

ezrainthestatic

location: the library status: open (0/4)

There was just something about the sunset that made Jack crave a cigarette. Maybe it was the dim light drifting through the wooden slats against the windows illuminating dust particles in the air, reminding him of the plumes of smoke that curled out of his lips after a long shift. Or, maybe it's simply because he's an addict who hasn't been able to indulge in a nicotine habit for roughly two and a half years. Sometimes, he regrets the decision to quit, throwing that final pack down his garbage disposal that caused his old landlord to cuss him out in his dingy apartment lobby. If he had known that would be the last chance to take a drag, maybe he would have savored it a little more. But, regrets are for people not trapped in a hellhole on patrol.

Instead, he simply watches the dust particles dance in the light for one final moment before he pushes himself up from his spot, brushing dusty hands against even dustier pants. Not too long before curfew drops, and it's looking like no one's got an itch to read whatever Vonnegut reject is sitting on the shelves. The joys of being a librarian. No one really gives too much of a shit to read nowadays.

He starts his way down the stacks, back away from the door as he hums to himself; a jingle that played a few too many times on his former local radio station, droning out a phone-number he would never call. Damn annoying, but catchier than he'd ever dare to admit. However, the sound of the bell attached to the door jingles, causing Jack's movements to hitch. Huh.

"Gotta make it fast, the sun's burning out," he starts in a sarcastic cadence, a hand on one of the nearly barren shelves as he turns to face the door. "And, if you're looking for a copy of Catcher and the Eye, I just checked it out. Sorry."

#( r. carnegie // interactions. )#( r. carnegie // rylee x jack. )

the urge to read was dim. rylee sought after a space that was full of quiet hums. nothing but stories of their own tucked in pages. her own hushed by the rules of the space. there were no little fingers tugging at her shirt. no questions asked that she could not answer. no fear to blanket in comfort. no need for her here. this was a moment to herself. a moment that only belonged to her...and the dust covered shelves... and — a hummed tune cloaked in smoke. the blonde woman jumped at the sound of the bell that rang above from her own feet entering the space. muscles tensed at the tune having thought foolishly that she'd be alone for a few minutes. still, the woman didn't dip in anything unkind. rylee sighed out the small disappointment with feet stepping forward. being surrounded by unread stories, some that were mysteriously faded, rylee came face to face with her company. "good stuff — that catcher in the rye.. quite the classic." the irish woman still felt nervous. a natural state she'd been in. it was hard to settle one's body in a place such as arcadia. "mm, don' mind me. just needed to wander a bit." treading danger as the light faded. maybe rylee was looking for a moment to give her a reason to stay put somewhere for the night. a moment of no choice but to stay put....to give herself a longer moment. "hope there isn't a late return for the next reader. not as if ye can get away with hiding books around here." ....no one can leave... what was lost would be found in some time... she hoped... disappearing wasn't an all too pleasing thought.

“Lord forbid!” Dilara exclaimed, wiggling her toes once more to reassure herself of their welfare. They were cold, of course, a side effect of her need to sit out in the cold but it wasn’t anything to cause her concern. She’d like to think she was a little more aware of her body’s reaction, coming from the New York City winters or even Chicago’s springs which were brutally cold and uncomfortably wet and muddy some years into the month of May. Getting frostbite while in Arcadia though, felt like a complete other world of horrors. “It’s always colder as it melts. At least the sun’s still up.” Dee extended her hand, offering the bottle to Rylee once more, as she listened to the other’s worries.

If there was something she was definitely glad for was having her children back home and safe with her husband. Cameron may not have been the most attentive father, and would definitely need to hire a live-in nanny due to their rigorous work schedules, but at least they were safe and sound. She didn’t have to worry about bordering up their windows, or ensuring her kids didn’t open the door in the middle of the night while she slept. Didn’t have to worry about fearing for them in any capacity while they remained a safe distance from this hell. Rylee’s situation was one Dilara wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Dee hoped that as time went by, the two would grow close enough that if her help was ever needed, Rylee would reach out. In the meantime, she ensured to offer it.

“They’re tired of being inside?” Dee asked, offering a less personal option in case Rylee didn’t feel like sharing anything too deep, but still a hardship of having children in Arcadia. With the amount of time some people have been around, Dilara would have thought someone at least would have put together a building to entertain and distract the children during the early hours of the day. Something that would allow their parents to breathe easier even if just for a couple of hours throughout their day. “There’s still a bit of gas inside of the mobile clinic,” Dee relayed, “I noticed a large group of cars parked some distance away. Maybe we can bring them there to play tomorrow morning? There’s more than enough people in the clinic, so I won’t be missed too much and it should give the girl’s something to look forward to.”

the liquor, opaque in its own fermented process, wasn't anything like the sweet red blend that rylee sipped on outside of arcadia. on nights that she had a mental ease from her lively daughters who ran a muck. running around the halls laughing about exchanges that happened within their day. unphased at the tormenting future ahead of them. minds untouched by the confusing grief felt from seeing their father lifeless. his body ripped apart in such inhumane directions. at the thought, the liquor warmed her throat once more. a lingering swig. "next time i'll make sure yer sitting around a nice crackling fire." rylee didn't have the energy to spare their toes now with the falling day. she spoke of promises to keep friendly company. arcadia was so unforgiving to what it trapped. creating bonds felt crucial to survival. to keep the spirits positive, cared for.

"think its more so cabin fever of being in this town." the irish woman held in a small sigh. let it slightly pinch her lungs before slowly exhaling all of the pain she often held in to mask the darkness for something happier for the sake of her daughters. "their so young. dealing with grief in this capacity is confusing. they just wanna be kids. y'know ?" her hand extended the bottle back to dee — thankful for the few sips she'd taken. knowing it wouldn't be long until it started to fuzz her mind. just a little. just enough to settle. "dunno if you knew about their father ?" a cautious look. rylee wasn't one to withhold truth. her natural comfort brought honesty — and truth was the woman enjoyed the comfort others provided. she wasn't one to enjoy isolation — not by herself, not with her emotions.

dilara brought that ease that rylee leaned into. an offer of solace. a break in this hellscapes norm. a chance for her children to seek a positive outlet — how could rylee deny any chance of joy? its what she so desperately searched for. "i'd really love that. nice of ye to offer." a small thanks curved her lips into a small smile. "think the girls would too."

#( r. carnegie // visage. )#god i love them all

michaun

BAD SISTERS

hartlings

As the girls were beating the crap out of one car, Ophelia leaned against another. To catch her breath, to gather her thoughts, to try and not give into the darkness of the town that was seeping slowly but surely into her brain. This couldn't be their new normal. She refused to let it. And yet, Molly's question rang painfully through her ears, because there was no way to promise them a way out. Not with what she knew now. Her vision was a blur from beneath hooded eyes, exhaustion had taken a hold of her too. The dark circles underneath her eyes said as much, not even concealer could cover the damage at this point.

Clearing her throat, she ran a hand delicately through red strands. Blinking once, blinking twice, her gaze fell back upon the blonde that had her heart in a tight grasp. A warm grasp, that made her heart skip a beat every time their eyes locked, every time she thought of her, every time her voice filled the air, it wasn't hard for Rylee to make her feel. To make her breathe and fill her lungs with air she so much needed in order to live. Rylee made her want to live, even in this shithole.

Rylee's war cry definitely made Ophelia's eyes widen in surprise, even for a split second. When the girls laughed, there was a grimace on her face too paired with a chuckle. ''Girls, I don't think this is your mom - she'd never harm a car cursing a town,'' she teased, ''where's Rylee Carnegie and what've you done to her!?'' Ophelia had come up to the girls, taken the last safety goggle from the bag and shoved it up her nose. Guiding Molly to smash some more dents in the hood of the car, the safest and biggest surface to hit without the possibility of glass or splinters flying back towards the girl's face, she gave her an answer to her question Ophelia only wished to ever fulfill. ''Of course sweetie, I'd take you and your sisters to her tour. We'd rent a van and follow her on the road throughout all of Canada, the U.S., even Europe if that's what you want, Molls.'' Adding to that, she stopped hitting her and hugged her from behind, if only to hide the tears from welling into the beanie she was wearing, ''and I'd treat you on all the chicken nuggets you can eat, mcdonald's every single day, my darling girl.''

Leaving the girls to have fun with each other, Ophelia had taken Rylee apart to sit by another car not too far away to still keep an eye on them. In a hushed voice, she wondered out loud now. ''So you lot have the same nightmare some-fucking-how, and I....'' unsure on how to bring her own trauma forward, her voice died when she stared at a patch of snow in front of them, ''....I get woken up screaming too. How...how does that....work?'' The occasional giggle came from the four after a loud crack, smash or thwack. Which was good. Which meant they were playing around, having fun rather than having their minds occupied with the trauma that swirled through Ophelia's. ''That can't be a coincidence, can it?''

a chicken nugget bounty paired with infinite chappell performances seemed like a glowing dream to not only her daughters — but also to rylee. that meant freedom from this place. a chance to run the arcadian road and not end up where she began. the hope hummed in her chest. she'd always allow ophelia to ignite brighter days ahead for her. even if they hadn't manifested — rylee loved to float upon the thought of them. coming down from adrenaline, the blond hadn't needed to stuff her hands into her pockets. they were heated from thrashing overwhelming stressors against the stalled vehicle. the mention of nightmares brought rylee's feet back down to earth. her body turned so she could lean back against the car. daughters filled the outside air with laughter while the adults tuned another note. "i heard ye." brows scrunched, "had hoped i'd been wrong." startled in the night. rylee recalled cupping her hands over lucille's ears while the sounds of ophelia tormented the walls between them. "it's this place, phelia." that explanation had been enough for rylee. anything beyond absolutely terrified her. ophelia had so much drive deeply rooted in her. something the blonde had always admired, but witnessing it unsettle ophelia in arcadia was worrisome. god forbid she'd lose the woman as she lost alec.... the thought made her ill.

" whatever this place is...." tongue lingered on her lip hating the realizations. "i think....it isn't kind. i think... it feeds off of our pain." as it was all she'd felt since arriving. it's what she felt coming into this place too. the wind felt gentle now in this moment. blanketing their tender moment. "i wrote down all of the girls nightmares. have been since that night molly started sleep walking. ye know, maybe i could help them.. ease it. just noticed it was all blending together. dunno why." terrified of the why. rylee slid her fingers out to ophelia's hand. allowing her fingers to give a comforting squeeze to the other. "i want to ease it all for ye too. we're a family." rylee felt a small wince in her chest. a distant ache of the loss of her ex husband. a part of her family she couldn't keep safe... "we can figure this out until we're weak in the knees.. but phelia.. i don't want it to take any more of us."

flcnnerys

“Yeah, um, they’re all a bit older than me, though,” he said, standing and walking to the budding plant in its pot, a little curious at what it would look like. Chase gave it a good sniff, but didn’t get much out of it - it was probably too little. Baby joint. “Annaliese is a lawyer, but I always forget what her, like, specialty is, or whatever. Something with copyright. Sarah Jane is a neurosurgeon, and Rebecca’s a golf pro. And I’m this.” He gestured to the ripped jeans, the oversized shirt with a hole at the hem of the sleeve. The black septum ring was crooked in his nose, and the faded seafoam green dye that had once adorned the edges of his curls had been washed and cut away to a faded silver.

Chase shrugged. “My moody brooding was a phase,” he said. “Then it became two separate things. I would get moody, and I would brood. Not always at the same time. But everyone’s a bit moody around here, so who’s to say.” It might be a different kind of moody. Hopefully some of these kids would get a chance to be real kids, to live a life outside of a place like this. It was bleak and the fact that there were some around here that had been in Arcadia for multiple decades made the odds against his wishes, but he wouldn’t give up.

annalise. rylee noted the name of his sibling to memory. a lawyer. sarah jane. neurosurgeon. rylee nodded another scribbled stored fact. rebecca the golf pro. eyes swam across the bushel of struggling plants before meeting chase's profile. such light he couldn't seem to see on his own. too dimmed by societal standards of success. rylee's stomach fluttered in hopes that his parents hadn't been too harsh, too full of expectation. clouding disappointment. something rylee as a parent would never sink into. finger tips, to toes, to the last hair on her head had been full of caring support for whatever made her children happy. as long as passions and happiness weren't violent or hateful, she'd be there lifting spirits. rylee hadn't known chase very well — but she decided in the moment that she'd always support whatever flickered any light in his eyes.

"i'd say being able to separate moody and brooding is quite a talent." a weak attempt to lift the weight that loomed. the corners of the blonds lips lightly curled. "i've always thought being an artist was extremely successful. rich in life where people in high positions....like doctors, corporate finance, lawyers...anything that deemed to be successful were hollow of. the standard of success society has crowned has little meaning compared to what fills ye with happiness." rylee hummed. fingers brushing against the fanning leaves.

endlesswoes

Leandro shifted automatically on the couch, making room for her though there was nothing but room besides him, and positioned himself in a way that allowed him to fully take her in. The very concerns all parents encountered when Arcadia was concerned now plagues Rylee, and while he would have loved to tell her it got better with time - he knew this to be a lie. No amount of comfort from his end would make her struggles or the creatures in the forest dissipate. He still struggled with his own turmoil despite the years he’s been in town. “It seems only right for us as parents, to stick together as best as we can. You are not alone despite the isolation we may feel inside.” Reaching a hand over, he placed a hand over her shoulders - an extension of comfort in what little way he could provide it.

One of his many jobs as a pastor, besides extending his knowledge and preaching the word of the Lord, was listening and providing counsel whenever the situation demanded it. With Rylee, he listened earnestly. Allowing her the time she needed to dig in her mind for words and air her worries. The mention of sleepwalking made him suck in a silent breath of horror, though there was nothing that surprised him anymore.

Lupita had been the same when Sol passed away. Waking up in the middle of the night, out of their shared bed at the time, and attempted to open their bedroom door. With everything that happened, Leandro had began locking every single room they slept in after that - being too terrified that the next person he’d find would be his own flesh and blood. Not a week after he had switched to the basement of the church all together. He needed to push as much distance between his kids and the outside as he could.

“What precautions have you taken?” he asked after a moment had passed, the noise of the children above them filling the ambiance almost comically. Far too many lives had been lost to this place, too many children taken too early to make sense. Leandro could have died happily without the image of all the children’s graves he had prayed over. “I can help secure the locking mechanism to the outer side of their doors, if you’d like. That way you can lock them in at night, and let them out in the day.” Had their situation allowed for another way he wouldn’t offer such a horrendous option, but if it kept the children alive through the night he could see no fault in it. The only other option was to tie them to their beds. “Their windows are all bordered up, right?”

touch had been soothing. even before arcadia, rylee had always folded into comfort extended by touch. often hugging her daughters before they would wiggle from her gentle grip — a simple hand squeeze from others was enough to push all worries to the back of her mind. allow her room to breathe. social support that alleviated emotional distress where the woman hadn't realized the tightness in her shoulders. no, leandro's hand on her shoulder, she did as she always had, eased. friendly fingers provided warmth that thawed out her thoughts frozen by strength. by fear ? it had been hard to tell these days... easing into his empathy, rylee lowered her walls. the distant giggling of children upstairs had rested her mind. she'd been masking the full truth around her daughters. they'd witnessed enough horrors already, and it'd been terrifying not knowing how to explain what had been happening. "children are curious by nature. the amount of questions i can't provide an answer for has been ... difficult." her lungs exhaled a long breath. one rylee held in for so long as the pillar of her family structure. "we were told to board up the windows when we...moved in. nail them shut." it felt odd to say out loud. none of arcadia had been fit for normal life, but it had now become their normality. rylee hated settling with the horrors. "if i'm being honest — i hate that they," eyes flickered up the direction of the distant stairs, "can't lead a normal youth. we've been piled into one room. instead of them having their own." there had been plenty of room. "we push the dressers in front of the door, the windows at night.. and build a fort in the room, and all sleep together.. tangled in limbs. they've been so afraid..." the first few weeks the girls had slept with their headphones on just to keep the outside whispers muffled out. rylee shook her head wishing tightly that there was more she could provide. — "i... just feel out of my own control for what i want to give them." eyes full of blue looked back to leandro knowing as a parent there had been an understanding. "if you could help with the doors.. i think perhaps them having their own rooms might feel... lighter in some way...make me feel safer." give rylee a chance to have a breath that belonged to her own set of lungs.

saintlcss

“No?” Jude frowned. More rested, she might have asked more questions. About what the other did know about. Not in the name of social niceties, which she understood even less than she practised them but inquisitiveness. She could make sense of people more through the draws and knowledge they saw themselves in.

Hands without distraction, Jude hummed with the thought of the winged creatures. Less concerned, now, about the recourse for the birds that picked at her crops, but of an owl somewhere on the perimeter of the ranch's fields. A barn owl, most likely, with speckled plumage and pebbled eyes. It had returned for many a night when she had considered removing the shutters from windows to seek out its silhouette in the dark. Fortunately, she had reason enough that it would be too far to make out; no doubt the sight of Them would catch her eye long before beak or feather. Still, she had heard it across the air of sleepless night—a constant point in the uncertainty of dusk. She would not ask if she knew of that.

Jude looked at her properly for the first time, over her own knee as she rested the point of her jaw against it. Closer now, if only with steps of probable caution. She pulled her eyes upwards slowly. “Hm. Shame. You might be missing out.” Without a change in tone or maintaining her gaze, it was scarcely flirtatious. Not the almost languid toying she could have once been accused of. When boredom had captured her, as it often did, or the less frequent interest in another had struck—she had found it easy to get her way there, at least. She had not been one for her own reflection either, all too aware that she may find someone staring back at her with expectation. That she be more than what blinked back. “Shit.” She breathed. Hell was not met the same by all its residents; the adaptions required for such an existence knew great variation. Different paces of survival. “Guess you’re having the time of your life here.” Knock on wood. Jude rapped her knuckles against her forehead once.

shame. you might be missing out. — there had been a lot rylee had missed out on. thrown to the wind of motherhood. buried beneath a failing marriage. divorce. life just withering away to dust, and yet so much life still left. the woman, petite, carried such might against allowing herself to wallow on what she had missed out upon. no need to pity herself. motherhood had always delighted her to a full extent. no matter the downfall of her marriage. surely, if her mind had leaked into thought.. —particularly at night. laying awake in bed about her persona being swallowed by the lives of her daughters. no room left for her to explore herself intimately — with a partner or alone. those moments of thought would be drowned out by tired, heavy lids. sleep consumption. washed all by morning just to fall back into motherly routine.

rylee shifted. the air still between them almost enough to hear the crunch of snow beneath her foot. cold. unforgiving just as the town had been. months had passed. so cruelly, but still she stood. thanking whatever optimism floated around her enough to keep her daughters alive. arcadia was certainly no place to have children. rylee held burdens of worry. creased in her brows. wore heavy in her sighs. lips paused from whatever optimism she was about to push. one could lie. dip her tongue in denial. some river of delusion that wouldn't quench any satisfying thirst. surely, jude had been draping sarcasm like a blanket in this winter air. — but rylee hadn't been soothed. no comfort was found in death. her daughters father, gone, taken to the night. taken by Them. "honestly ? ... it's been hell." the word seemed far too light from the tormenting haunt that fell as a constant. "—but ..what do we do ?" fingers slipped from the warmth of her jacket pockets. needing to feel the pinch of cold air upon them. just to know she was awake. not stuck in some nightmare. reality and nightmares were seemingly the same here. "we survive." the irish lilt fell flat towards the end. as if some of the hope had been fading.