Wolfman

seth adams. veterinarian. thirty-one. "Yeah, be rational, sure. I'm a fucking werewolf, for Christ's sake!" I see the bad moon a-risin'

[bleedthegcds]

"Wait, wait.. -- you can't just.." He jumped, a small hop and a skip as he quickened to fall at least one step behind him. "I'm coming with you." Lenny nodded, as if the deal was made, and now the two of them would stick together. Through thick and thin. Each step he took, unparalleled attention was garnered to where he was stepping. Somehow living in the mindset that at any moment, the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Closer still, he walked to the other, "You don't think that was like.. real or anything, do you? It could have been like, just some kinda explosion or something?" Lenny paused, casting wild hues around at the chaos erupting at the carnival as people sought to leave as quickly as possible. "Fireworks? Like.. a lot of them. Maybe.." He didn't sound so sure.

Something in the air tickled the back of his neck. Like the breath of a beast down on its haunches, and somehow he just knew. The pulse of power that still lingered in the air, old - as if it'd reached out in waves turned his stomach and as if he needed to, Lenny reached into the pit of his stomach and clenched a metaphorical fist tightly around the spark of it that lived there. Don't touch it. "You ah..-- where should we.. I mean, where are you going to go? Do they have like..-- somewhere that everyone goes to when shit like this happens?"

[sethadams-cursed]

"Man, this is really bad. I don't care where everyone else is going; all I can think about is Jennifer." Seth’s voice was taut with concern. Jennifer was back in her terrarium at home, but being the sensitive tarantula she was, even a slight disturbance could send her into a panic. The thought of her trying to climb the walls of her enclosure, desperately trying to find a way out, twisted his stomach into knots. "What if she freaks out? What if she flips over or something?" In his urgency, Seth had completely forgotten that Lenny was practically a stranger and had no idea who Jennifer was.

Seth cast a glance back at the carnival, where chaos and confusion painted a grim backdrop to their hurried escape. "Listen, no matter where we go, I have to swing by my place first, and then the clinic. I need to check on Jennifer and a few animals I've got boarding there. Jennifer is really sensitive, and it's not just about getting out of here; I need to make sure she's okay too. Plus, my parents are probably losing their minds right now. Knowing my mom, she's probably making her 'end-of-the-world' brisket or something."

His pace quickened, his mind running through every possible scenario involving Jennifer scrambling around in her terrarium. The shockwaves from whatever had happened at the carnival must have unsettled her, disturbing her usual calm. "I have no idea if there’s a designated safe zone or anything, but we need to head to my place first. Jennifer isn’t just a pet to me; she’s my responsibility."

Seth looked at Lenny, hoping he’d understand the urgency. "We’ll make it quick. After that, we can figure out our next move, but I need to make sure she’s alright. You get it, right?"

[bleedthegcds]

status: open @thecursed-starters location: were here at the carnival still pals notes: directly after the quake/ascension

"I'm not the only one who felt that, right?" Despite the obviousness of the reactions around him, he certainly wasn't. And yet, still Lenny waited for some kind of sign that it wasn't simply all in his head. He was, after-all, doomed to an ever-looming insanity. It was just as possible that the world simply skewed based on the cogs of fate, drawing him ever nearer his own demise. Stands had rocked, items tumbling headlong to the ground and planks of wood pried themselves loose as the ground beneath objected violently to something none of them could see. And yet, he knew. "I don't like this.." he muttered, mostly to himself, and yet as he looked up at the presence beside him, Lenny shook his head, as if conducted by the omen itself. "We should leave," meaning - he, him.. "None of us should be here."

[sethadams-cursed]

Returning to the carnival for the second time in a week, Seth had left his siblings behind this time. This visit was for himself—he wanted to ride the rollercoaster again and perhaps catch another glimpse of Merida. He hadn't exactly come to the carnival specifically to find her—okay, maybe he had come for her...

Lost in his thoughts of Merida, Seth barely registered the first tremors of the earthquake until it was upon them. Panic surged through him as the ground quaked beneath his feet, causing nearby stands to sway dangerously. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest person for support.

The man he grabbed, of a similar age to Seth, mirrored his fear. Nodding in agreement, Seth acknowledged the urgency of the situation. "You're right, we need to get out of here." With his car in the shop, his bike was their only means of escape. Pointing toward where he had locked it up, he added, "Let me just grab my bike."

[magsparrow]

She abhorred the burning feeling of gazes examining her, undressing, trying to dissect whatever had happened to her. A freak accident, a bunch of cultists. A bear doesn't show up and disappear in a puff of smoke. She's making it up. But the wounds, the ones marring otherwise untouched skin, were very real. The distortion in her psyche wasn't a trick of the mind, and her lost ability to discern real from fictitious was not some attention seeking ploy. The media tore apart victims like her, and they always will. Head fell down as the doors tore away from the hospital's walls, and she could spot the cameras through the small crowd like a hawk. They weren't well concealed, and all too eager to suck dry the story of poor Magdalena's near death experience. Hand reached up to seek comfort, placed on the back of the wheelchair with a finger extended towards the one pushing her to familiar surroundings.

"You're a real charmer amongst the nurses." She'd be lying if she told him she didn't spot the suspecting look shot Seth's way. The one working at the reception ready to dial security, or additional help to get Maggie away from her friend. Blink twice if you need us to help you. She'd nearly roared in laughter, the words mouthed without much of an attempt to hide them. It brought her back to the day they met again, as adults: Not that poor excuse of an awkward first meeting as kids. A trainwreck ending in a kiss that should forever be burned from the memories of everyone involved. No, the time where they both wore that freshly out of school glow, and the time where they'd both become fast friends. Like minded people always found each other, with senses of humor as dry as the whiskey her brothers think they've hidden well behind Nana's ashes. Their only difference? Well, she was cute. Big, bright doe eyes that could not possibly hold trouble bearing intentions. Never, Magdalena would never. 

The thought tore her attention away from reporters, those too cowardly to come forward and shove a microphone in her face. The Sparrow brothers would have a field day with whoever tried to mess with her recovery. And that included whoever shot unnecessary stress her way. Emiliano had already tried body throwing Laurie in the lobby, and that's after he'd brought her to the Emergency. Let's not forget in the attorney of the family - Slamming each and everyone of the channels with a lawsuit. A well protected daughter and sister. Not enough, apparently. Shivers racked her body, and looking up into the sky was all Magdalena could do to calm herself. Hear the sounds of passing cars, of nesting birds angry at the disruption the foot traffic brought, and listen to Seth's ramblings. Feel the soft breeze brushing hair back out of her face. Peaceful things, focusing on those, and perhaps the panic threatening to vomit out of her mouth would go away. Fat chance.

She's sure he's noticed it. He knows her like the back of his hand, and probably even more. She's uncharacteristically quiet, and offered no more than a grunt when he manhandles her into his car. Stevie's smell is reminiscant of nights spent watching cliched horror movies at the drive through cinema, or cheesy romantic comedies Seth pretends to hate, always the dramatic. It melts through the toughest of insecurities, and it eases plenty of tension from her shoulders. Home, and combined with the sound of whatever conversation the man was half having with himself and the radio, she nearly fell into another quick sleep. Nearly. As if sleep would not escape her for the next couple of nights.

Lips pressed into a thin line, and her silence broken by a faltering exhale. You've been doing so well, Magdalena. Just a little bit more. "It's tradition. We'd be idiots if we broke our decade long streak." She laughs, and she pretends it's a joyous sound. It doesn't sound empty, it doesn't. It doesn't feel wrong, and foreign on your tongue to laugh right now. YOU'RE ALRIGHT, MAGDALENA SPARROW.

I thought you were going to die. It was really all it took, for that barrage to break. For the dove to weep, and the fractured sob that left her was deafening in the otherwise quiet Volvo. "It hurts so much, Seth." And she knows, she doesn't mean the physical injuries. Not all doped up on painkillers as she was, not with the morphine still lingering in her veins. She doubted she'd feel anything, unless she decided to jerk her leg forward and hit it against the dashboard. Mentally, she's shattered, and the puzzle pieces are all over the floor. Some burnt, some lost to the creeking floorboards. "It was so dark, and I couldn't really focus on anything other than what I thought were my final moments. This is how I die. What a crap way to die, you know? Dragged by... A bear." Because it had to be a bear. It was so big, so strong. Could it really be anything else. "At least let me put up a fight. I couldn't do anything. I should have died. I don't know how I'm not dead."

[sethadams-cursed]

It may not quite be a decade, and if he wanted to get technical, it might even be a little shorter than quite. Still, that detail seems irrelevant. The tradition feels so ingrained, so much a part of their routine and family life, that it’s as if Saturday night movie nights have always been a part of their lives. He imagines that if he were in her shoes, he’d be desperately grasping for any semblance of normalcy too. It's a fragile thread, sure, connecting her to better times and offering a brief escape from the chaos that's sticking to her like matted cat fur.

"It hurts so much, Seth."

Seth’s eyes flickered with a complex mix of emotions as the weight of Magdalena’s words sank like a stone into the pit of his stomach. He thought to himself, it hurts because dying hurts, and she had come terrifyingly close to that brink. Struggling to maintain his composure, knowing it wouldn't be fair for him to crack under the circumstances, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the hard plastic creaking under the strain as if it might give way. “Magdalena,” he began, using her full name, which was rare for him, his voice barely more than a whisper and quivering with a tremor he couldn’t quite control. “You’re right,” he said at last, his voice shaking with a blend of frustration and helplessness. “It’s so damn unfair that you had to endure this. But you’re here. You’re alive. And that’s what counts. You fought, in your own way, just to survive. That’s not nothing…” He had searched for a card that expressed something similar, but the best he could find was one that said "You're a Trooper" with a picture of a Stormtrooper on the front. It’s still tucked away inside his glovebox, kept there just for that reason.

“It wasn’t a fair fight, whatever it was that attacked you. And you survived not because of some miracle, but because you’re stronger than you know." He keeps thinking back to how they skipped the traditional path of becoming friends. It wasn't until they were both adults that they ended up in this debate about the greatest horror movie of all time, which superseded any awkwardness, at least on Seth's part, about that kiss and got them both in the basement of Maggie's parents' house, a shared bucket of popcorn squashed between them as they let their VHS tapes battle it out. "I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, and maybe it won’t for a while, but you will find that strength again. It’s still there, inside you, buried under the pain and the fear. We’ll dig it out, together.”

The silence that followed was thick, oppressive, like the air before a storm. Seth wanted to reach out, to touch her, to offer some semblance of comfort, but the space between them felt insurmountable. In reality, it had probably only been a couple of seconds, but time seemed to stretch out longer than usual in the current moment, making everything feel just a bit heavier. "I'm going to—," he began, momentarily forgetting about his seatbelt before feeling its tug. Despite the restraint, he managed to maneuver close enough to pull her into a brief hug before being pulled back by the seatbelt. Clearing his throat, he continued, "So, uh, how about that movie, huh? Your pick. I'll even endure two hours of Beaches if you want."

[haleblackwood]

WHO: Hale + open @thecursed-starters

WHEN: 1 June 1989

WHERE: Side Show

If there was one thing Hale had mastered in their time on earth, it was the art of gliding through life mostly unnoticed, a definite boon for someone with a penchant for taking things that didn't belong to them. A negative experience could easily be made positive enough to not be memorable, and distractable enough to allow them to slip away with a ring or a wallet or a watch. Some vampires supported their exceptionally long lifespans with other pursuits; Hale made theirs by way of asset redistribution.

It was this talent that made carnivals particularly fun. People were already distracted, and then add to that the crush of the crowd and the grace with which they moved and everything could be theirs. Hale rifled through a nicked wallet as they remained on the periphery of the crowd, and upon finding nothing of particular interest, they abandoned it atop a fence post that gated off part of the side show stage before they continued to the stage itself.

"See anything interesting?" they said as they watched a crowd funnel towards the show itself, a curl of a grin on their lips as they spoke.

[sethadams-cursed]

Now he was sure it had to be here. This was the next place he had wandered off to after dropping his siblings (Gremlins the lot of them) at the arcade. He toed the grass where he had sneaked a smoke, careful to stay out of sight of his dibby dobber siblings who would use it against him. The brunette really hoped it wasn't lost. It wasn't that he had any money in it—his father had taught him years ago never to put anything valuable in a wallet. No, it was because it was a Spook FM limited edition wallet that he had won only a few weeks ago.

After promising a whole hour on his computer, he had managed to get his brother to call up (one day he'd manage to do it himself without panicking at the idea of talking to Stevie Wayne and slamming down the receiver on her ear) and guess the Friday Spook Trivia night's mystery movie. The contest involved only three key words, and you had to use your brain to piece them together into a movie from the last decade. Seth considered himself a savant at it. His mother would have cried if she knew how many movies he watched just for fun nowadays. Let alone the type of them.

Just when he was about ready to give up, Seth straightened his neck and spotted his wallet, abandoned on top of a fence post. Out of habit, he whispered, "Barukh HaShem," before walking over and picking it up. Everything was still there, though that was mainly because the only things inside were an Elf card (being held hostage from Ben until he stopped turning the gas off whenever Seth took a shower) and a picture of him and Jennifer. What a relief.

The show inside the tent must have been about ready to kick off, because soon Seth found himself being pushed towards an excitable crowd. Since he still had time to kill before he needed to take his brothers and sister home, he thought, why not? Even before, a voice rose up beside him. "Haven't seen this year's show yet, but if it's anything like last year's, I'd recommend sitting towards the back…" With a laugh, Seth eyed the figure beside him, trying to work out if they had a pet registered at his clinic, before extending his hand. "Seth. And what's got you checking out the Slideshow this year?"

[spookfm-cursed]

[Cut to the Spook FM studio, where Stevie Wayne is on air. The studio is dimly lit, with a warm, cozy atmosphere and spooky-themed decorations. Stevie is wearing her signature black outfit, her voice smooth and inviting as she addresses her late-night listeners.]

Stevie Wayne: "Good evening, night owls and fellow creatures of the night. This is Stevie Wayne, coming to you live from Spook FM, where the witching hour is our favorite time of day. Tonight, we’re taking your calls and playing the tunes that send shivers down your spine. Let’s see who we have on the line. Hello, caller, you’re on the air with Stevie Wayne."

Seth: [Nervously clears his throat] "Uh, hi, Stevie. It’s, uh, it’s Seth. Long-time listener, first-time caller."

Stevie Wayne: "Welcome to the show, Seth. What’s on your mind tonight?"

Seth: "Well, uh, I just wanted to say I really love your show. Your voice, it’s, uh, it’s really soothing, you know? Makes the night feel a little less lonely."

Stevie Wayne: [Smiling] "That’s so sweet of you to say, Seth. I’m glad I can keep you company. Do you have a song request for us tonight?"

Seth: "Yeah, actually, I do. I was wondering if you could play ‘Immortal Rites’ by Morbid Angel. It’s one of my favorites, and I think it’d be perfect for a night like this."

Stevie Wayne: "Ah, ‘Immortal Rites’—excellent choice, Seth. That song definitely fits the mood. Is there anyone special you’d like to dedicate it to?"

Seth: [Hesitates, then laughs softly] "Uh, just to all the night owls out there, and, well, to you, Stevie. Thanks for making the nights a little brighter."

Stevie Wayne: [Warmly] "Thank you, Seth. That means a lot. I’ll get that song on for you right away. Stay spooky, and keep listening."

Seth: "Will do. Goodnight, Stevie."

Stevie Wayne: "Goodnight, Seth. Here’s ‘Immortal Rites’ by Morbid Angel, right here on Spook FM. Enjoy, everyone."

[magsparrow]

It's a nightmare. She knows, because she's stared at the four white walls of the emergency ward for hours on end. Enough to go blind from the reflecting light bouncing around the room. She's in the horrendously uncomfortably hospital room: At least physically. She isn't running in the woods of her family's farm, the missing shoes causing branches and sharp stones to dig into the flesh of underfeet. She isn't trying to shout, but rendered mute by the paralyzing fear crashing into her nervous system. She's safe. Her head whipped around, and the root of her family's tree, just near the front porch, catches the mangled leg and she is thrown onto the ground. A sob, nails scratching at the dirt underneath, trying to pull herself. Just a little bit closer, if she could get to the door. But the beast is never trapped in these nightmares. She'd never gotten lucky, and breaking through the tree line, is the creature that devours her. Pouncing, elonged teeth out and coming for her.

They never touch her, because she jolts awake every time. Hysterical, letting out a scream dream she could not muster. Awake, she's awake. Shaking eyes dart from one wall to another, and it is creepily reassuring, to be so familiar with every single crack in the wall that it becomes reassuring. The nurse at her side barges in, and she comes to her side to reassure, and to make sure for sixth time this week, that the stitches had not ruptured in her panic. Name five things you see around you. Light blue curtains, lilies in a vase ( a gift from her friends ), Penelope the nurse, the endless amount of machines, and the ' get well soon ' card from her brothers. Name four things you can touch. Her canela hair, the scratchy hospital blankets, the cold metal of the bed supports, and a strong hand holding hers in support. Three things you can hear. The sound of machinery just outside her room, Penelope's pager, and the rumbling of her stomach. Two things you can smell. The obscenely clean hospital smell, and the fragrance of her father, left behind from his coat. One thing you can taste. Chewing gum.

Penelope seemed to calm down, seeing the evening breathing of Magdalena. Just a nightmare, she is reminded. A memory, distorted to the worst that could've happened. But the reality is that she is alive. Survived, by the grace of the God that watched over them. And she is thankful, a smile on trembling lips to reassure the nurse that she is alright. She is not. Not by a long shot, every shadow at the corner of her eyes seemingly ready to pounce at her to finish the job the bear did not. But she is comforted by the knowledge that she got to go home today. The safety of the confines of her home, never to go near the woods again. She missed Suzie, tears threatening to pass the threshold of her eys at the thought of their poor elderly dog. She'd tried to warn them. But Lizzie was at home now, waiting for Mags to come back, and she couldn't wait to get into her bed and snuggle up with the house cat.

Discharge paper work is filed, the doctors clearing the patient up for bed rest at home. A pointed look shot that had her shriveling under gaze. No reckless exercising, no work for longer than an hour, and baths by hand towels only, until the wounds on her back are completely healed. Ah, he added, your brother couldn't make it today, so he asked Seth to pick you up. A beat of silence followed, and the songbird's eyes widened as the words sunk in. She loved Seth. He was a good friend, someone on par with her brothers in mind. But she had hoped to keep those who saw her in this state to a minimum, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Seth is family. And he is entitled to know you are ... Alright. 

It's hard to miss him, him with his eye sore of a t shirt and ridiculous balloon. He does nothing, he never needs to, and he has already brought a smile to her face. One that was more genuine than the few she'd been able to spare the past four days. "Looks like my ride is here." The nurse wheeled her closer, whilst Magdalena readjusted the blanket on her lap to hide as much of her injuries as she could. Alas, those on her arms and face could not be hidden quick enough, nor well enough, even through a different shirt. "Ha-ha. You're hilarious." Eyes rolled, and a hand swatted the air, gently, because she sees the cold look the nurse is quick to give at the miniscule movement of muscle. She thanks her, sincerely, once she is handed to Seth, softened laughter now that she could get a good look at the balloon. What a dork. "Well, you know, if you push me down that hill right there, I'm sure I can get enough momentum to get me home safely. If not, I can just crawl the rest of the way, no biggie."

[sethadams-cursed]

He felt their eyes on him, judging, as if he looked like the kind of guy who would actually propel a young woman across the polished vinyl floor and into oncoming traffic on one of Salem's main streets. He could take offense, he really could, but he wouldn't because he had just been about to grip the handlebars and give her a little jolt forward. A little. "I won't hear of it." Was he speaking louder than needed? ABSOLUTELY. "You might get kicks out of maiming yourself for your own devilish delights, but I'm here to guide you safely back home." He smiled over at the nurses, whose faces he couldn't quite make out—whether they believed him or wanted to call Magdalena's parents again to make sure he was really on her contact list. "Are you wheelchair-bound, or are we picking up a pair of--" Seth was cut off as the nurse, the one he decided didn't like him, showed back up with a pair of crutches in her hand. "Thanks, Nurse R--" Ratched, "Rockwell. I'll make sure she doesn't go running any marathons anytime soon."

It was time to get the hell out of Dodge. The thirty-one-year-old gripped Maggie's chair and moved her forward and back out into the fresh air. She didn't even have to say it; he knew she would've missed it. Mags wasn't the kind of girl who took well to being cooped up for too long. That's why he had to practically rip out his father's old reception room and start from scratch. There was a big window now, only partially obscured by a row of hedges (reminder: he really needed to trim those back soon) out front of the clinic. Plus, a TV with all her favorite daytime programs like Cheers. No? Just him. Okay then.

With her crutches currently positioned over her lap (where he had dropped them, because he’d tried the under-arm thing and they had clipped the automatic doors, sending them crashing to the floor), Seth maneuvered Maggie up to his car, still parked on the verge. "Dire. The parking situation had been dire." So, even if she did question him about it, she already had her answer. "Hmm…" He looked at her, then the car, and then the backseat, which currently had a very expensive portable ultrasound in it. "Might be a bit of a challenge, but thankfully they don't call me MadSkillz at Tetris for nothing." After some maneuvering, he managed to get Maggie's chair, Maggie, her bent-up leg, and her new set of crutches all into the car.

Was he using humor as a device to avoid stating the obvious? When wasn't humor his way out of anything even remotely 'deep'? He turned his eyes away from the obvious pain sketched all over his friend's face before he got into the delicate dance of shifting, hitting his foot against the clutch, and easing his other off the brake before he managed to get his car going. He probably could afford a better one, but he'd had Stevie (do not read into this too much) for so long that he wasn't about to give her up to the wreckers or some teenager who didn't know how to treat a lady just yet. Again, anything but what he really should be thinking or talking about… Maybe it was time for some Spook FM? The brunette leaned forward, his fingers coming dangerously close to Mags' damaged leg, before he found the knob and turned his radio on loud.

It was movie night, and out of habit, even if the silence was far from usual for him, he ended up parked outside Blockbuster. A question hanging on the edge of lips as he turned off the car. It was meant to be, "Do you still want to get some movies and hang out tonight?" even if seemingly the choice had already been decided for them in their current parking location, but somehow it came out as, "I thought you were going to die." He stared at the windscreen, his eyes suddenly focused on a big cardboard cutout of Chucky from Child's Play. “I mean…" He stopped himself. How was he going to tackle this? Maybe he shouldn't. Instead, he picked at his cuticles, thinking about how Chucky really didn't do anything to improve awareness that gingers actually had souls. Finally, he gave in and took another shaky breath, turning his head back up to face her and everything she'd gone through, because it was all right there. "Did it hurt? Does it hurt? What was it?"

Because that's just it—he doesn't really know. They said it was a bear or some sort of animal, but did anyone actually ask Maggie yet? That's what he wants to know. Just as much as the rest.

And yeah, it would help if she said somewhere in the middle of it that she was okay or she was going to be, but one more glance at her, her leg, and the still visible wounds against her neck.. had him worrying she might not be. At least for some time yet.

[meridakrawczyk]

"Well, I guess if you survived all eight Friday the 13th movies without a hitch, you're clearly immune to fear — let me guess. You never wet the bed either when you were a kid?" It sounded like she was teasing, enjoying her time in his company. In reality, it was the same game, just with a little more...splash. The carnival added something to her otherwise dull day, and the need to tease cured boredom. To embarrass? Even better. "With extra toppings—hope you brought your appetite and your financial advisor! I'm sure your wallet is the true horror story here."

Was she insulting? Yes, unfortunately so. But as always, she painted it to look pretty, because to her humans were toys, mere playthings to feed her and pass her time. She'd once been one of them, had cared about what happened to them. But slowly, over time, that humanity had been stripped from her. Bit by bit, until this woman was left standing before Seth: an actress, a performer and a monster with fangs that could pierce skin as easily as a needle could pierce fabric. She chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to echo in the dark space. "Scared? Me?" the amusement that took over her features was a beautiful blend of humored, and a smidgen of adoration at the oblivion. It wasn't sweet, oh no, it was predatory — it was like looking at a slice of meat after days after starving for a human. It was the warmest blood that ran in his veins that invited her in. She had nothing to be scared of, but this man, on the other hand, with that puppy-like demeanour, had the corner of her lips curling. "Oh, darling, you have no idea."

Her eyes flicked to Seth, noting his boyish excitement that most of the men she'd come to know over years passed lacked. Something akin to childish wonder in those eyes that could've almost sparked something close to humanity in her briefly, but just as quickly as it sparked, it died. Her heart long since cold and dead. Decrepit. It would be almost charming, in a way, and once upon a time she might've found herself almost endeared by his clear innocence. Untouched, pure. For now. Her predatory instincts were never far behind, always there, always reminding her of the hunger gnawing at her. Always reminding her that he was weak, breakable. And self-preservation far outweighed his measly life.

His question had her pausing. She could lie, she could be truthful. She'd long since lost her European accent, but it still slipped through from time to time. "New York," she paused, momentarily pushing through the gate as the light indicated it was time for them to fit into the ghost train booth, "Although, originally Poland. I have great, great ancestors...they immigrated years ago." How easily the lies slipped off her tongue now, as years had gone by. Lowering herself into the cart, her brow arched upward.

The second the spiel was over, Merida was quick to realise that Seth liked to talk a lot about...Salem. She understood, somewhat, that the topical conversation was because of their location, but still..she began looking around, boredom seeping in, before her eyes snapped to his. "Sorry, were you saying something?"

She just hoped he didn't repeat it all over again. Could he read a room?

It took only moments for her to slip into the cart, finding comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be long before that hunger stopped clawing at her stomach, screaming and begging. Food, food, food. But her dinner wasn't as easy as picking up something at 7/11. No, she had to hunt, to find the person that would tick all the boxes and appetite needs. AB, baby.

The speech, the legs, just...Seth? Over the span of her life, she'd met some interesting people for sure. But Seth was...not an exception to the rule exactly, but enough for momentary intrigue. Enough that her brows tugged into a downward v, her eyes sliding to him. Different, innocent, unlike most. She'd take a little...unless it was delicious, then she might just take the lot.

Her humanity was fleeting.

"I'm a talent agent, y'know, models, actors...sending them off to go find their dreams in LA. It's all the rage now, they say by the mid 90s, it'll be the only place that's important to be in show business." In truth, she wanted to bleed them all dry....literally. "And you?"

And off they went.

"So, Seth, is it?" A grin spreading across her mouth, large and beaming. The ride moving, the atmosphere beginning with a fake fog, and haunting sounds that would've fooled most teenagers into girly screams, and a chance to hold their crush's hand. She wouldn't tell him her name. There were some things that were better left a mystery.

"Do you believe in monsters?" she whispered, tone wicked but masked. That grin to the normal person looked like she was having the time of her life. And don't get her wrong, she was, but for all the reasons they would never guess to think. "It's always nice to have an open mind." she let a slight pause. The silence of the ride said enough, a jump scare was close. "You never know what might go home with you."

Or leave it's mark.

The first thing up – a haunted graveyard, complete with fog machines and skeletal hands reaching out of the ground. Merida couldn't help it, slowly clapping as she turned to Seth. "Wonderful, truly, let me guess...the grim reapers going to jump out any second and tell me I'm going to hell?" she paused, inching a brow. "Maybe next time, I can take you to a real haunted spot. Salem's full of them."

After she found out if he had any family, anyone that would miss him. She'd take enough not to rouse suspicion, not here. The witches, the wolves... she had to keep her wits about her.

[sethadams-cursed]

"Polish? Me too, but only on my mom's side… I'd say it shaped most of her personality…" He'd spent far too many family summers in the Polish woods instead of on a beach somewhere. Which probably was better for his delicate pigmentation, but still, when Jerry and Peter are telling you all about their bikini-filled summers and all you've got to add is that you spent yours on your ancestor's old sheep farm… getting burnt ain't exactly a big drawl back.

He didn't blame her for not hearing him. The Ghost Train was LOUD. The area filled with fake mechanical screams, real ones, and everyone else anticipating which would be louder. "Oh, I was just saying,--" Actually, what had he told her? Something about Salem, something about it being good here, and something about comparing it to New York or was it Boston? "Actually, I forgot." He laughed, hands slipping into his pockets as he swayed back onto the balls of his feet, wondering what kind of places in Salem she thought were cool. She had a vibe. He was getting that, but was it stick a Morbid Angel cassette into your player or was it a shop-till-you-drop at the old Salem mall kind of vibe? Hopefully, he'd get to the bottom of it tonight.

"Talent Agent? Wow. I think I saw Vivienne Young earlier by The Love Tunnel." Talk about every man's dream. He kept that tidbit to himself. Though, truthfully, he would've loved to speak to her, not as much as he'd have liked to speak to Steven Wayne (in person), but he rated her quite highly on his list. "You know Vivienne Young?"

"I'm a vet. I took an extra year to graduate because I wanted to specialize in exotics, you know, snakes, spiders—" hold it together, man, "iguanas. Not much use out here, unfortunately." Though, every now and again he did make a house call to a man in Ipswich who had a rather big assortment of poisonous snakes in his possession. "Are you more of a dog or cat person?" He'd say both, but it did say a lot about a person if they were one or the other.

"Yes, and who is calling?" What?! He still hadn't got her name yet.

He scoffed. "What you mean? Like in real life? Big Foot and the Wolfman?" He laughed, "I mean no." He loved horror movies, but the ones about 'monsters' and stuff always made him laugh. He much preferred slashers; like Halloween and Friday the 13th.

"Now, that—that I'm more inclined to believe," he mused, recalling the story he'd heard around some makeshift campfire when he'd been eleven. "You hear the story about a lone driver, I forgot her name, so let's call her Sarah, making her way home, her heart pounding with each mile. Suddenly, she notices headlights in her rearview mirror, following her every move. Sarah's nerves are on edge as she speeds up, but those lights stay right on her tail, never fading, never blinking. Panic sets in as she recalls the stories of a menacing figure lurking in the backseat of unsuspecting drivers' cars."

The cart turned, another piercing mechanical scream ripped through as a Demon popped out. Seth didn't blink. "So, with trembling hands, she pulls into a gas station, her heart racing as she leaps out of the car. Her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, when she sees the occupants of the car behind her rushing towards her, their faces etched with concern." Seth pulled some fake cobweb from both their faces when their cart decided to take some of the display along for the ride with them. "Anyway, they explain that they had been trying to signal her because they saw a man hiding in the backseat of her car, waiting to…." He raised his hands and yelled, "strike!"

With a relaxed demeanor, Seth leaned back in the cart as it continued around the tracks and put his hands behind his head. "But yeah, I'm game… where did you have in mind?" That was an invitation to a date, right? Sure, Maggie might have been taking her nods in the hospital right now, but that wouldn't stop him from calling the hospital and having them wire him into her room in order to tell her he'd just scored a date to a graveyard or the abandoned mental hospital a few miles outside of town (high possibility) with a pretty New Yorker.

"You know I think this is almost the last turn.. unless they've got something up their sleeves for their grand finale, we might just have to go splits on that corn dog..." He wouldn't have suggested it earlier, but now that she was suggesting 'dates' and stuff, well. "Fair?"

[sethadams-cursed]

Who: Seth Adams & Magdalena Sparrow When: 27 May 1989 (Saturday) Where: Salem General County Hospital Type: Closed

"IT'S MY TURN NOW!"

The best thing about having siblings considerably younger than you was that it was much more easier to get your way, as Seth elbowed Jacob in the gut, and avoided his brother's sticky Rugelach covered fingers. "Nope." There was some emphasis as he popped his 'P' and continued the game. Roger Wilco… space janitor.. who was just about to infiltrate a space base using an invisible utility belt. SO DAMN COOL. Yeah no way was Jacob playing this one anytime soon. "MOMMMMMMM!"

Resigning before the inevitable came in the shape of his mother—her chastising and the reminder that he was a grown man and video games were for kids—Seth wasn't in the mood to argue. With a sigh he rolled his brother's computer chair back and climbed out of it. "Touché."

"SETH!!" What? He’d given it up! "Phone!" Oh, that. Putting his finger into his mouth and then inserting it into Jacob's ear, Seth let out a laugh as his brother screamed and ran down the stairs just in time to grab the phone off their annoyed father. Holding his angry brother back with his free hand, he answered, "Ellooooo..."

He listened, nodding, and agreed to Zo's (Lorenzo, but Seth called him Zo) pleas to pick his sister Maggie up from the hospital because he was stuck at the office still. The truth was, he felt kind of sick about the whole thing...

Maggie hadn’t gone to his school, but they’d met one year when, after begging his father for weeks to let him go to a normal (not Hebrew) summer camp, his father had finally agreed. The two had met when they were both been put on canteen duty, some sort of punishment for having a sense of humor. At least, that's how Seth saw it. After that, they’d spent most of the rest of the summer together, which concluded with a game of spin the bottle, where Seth was forced to pop his mouth cherry and kiss her. It hadn’t been a bad kiss, but he’d definitely used more tongue than was appropriate, and in the end, the two hadn’t spoken for the rest of the night or the bus ride back to Salem.

Of course, that was all in the past and when she came looking for a job a few years ago, he was more than happy to let bygones be bygones and hire her up as his new receptionist. The arthritic hands of old Madge had never adapted well to the computer age. So, anyway, the point was, when Seth heard about Maggie being injured—hospitalized—he felt just a little torn up over the whole ordeal. "County, right? Four? You got it, Zo."

Parked right on the curb beside the hospital bay, Seth picked up his drug store balloon and headed in the direction of the receptionist desk. "I'm here to pick up—" He turned, cut off by a familiar voice, as he eyed her cast and took in just how damaged she was: it looked bad, but definitely not bad enough to avoid any kind of jokes. "Looks like you’re one step ahead of everyone… or maybe one step behind?" He walked up, taking the wheelchair from the orderly with a thank you and a smile. Then, he leaned down and handed Maggie her balloon. "Can you limp or am I driving?"

[meridakrawczyk]

Merida smirked as her lip glossed lips tilted upward. "Yes, the ghost train." She reiterated slowly, almost offensively so. God, she was hungry, and she was close to falling into the realm of pouty. And once she got to that stage, the sugar-sweet smile she gave him was as much an incentive, a ploy to use her looks.

If they were on show, her fangs would've been just shy of piercing her bottom lip as she suppressed the desire to laugh. This one had spirit, she internally mused, letting her eyes graze over the lines of his body. That already arched brow moved further towards her hairline. It was truly amusing to think he believed she'd be the one to scream, cute even.

But her looks had always been unassuming, sweet, and kind — she looked like a deer in the headlights.

When really she was the lioness stalking its prey, no young to feed. Not anymore. It'd been many years and sadness did not find her as it once had. She no longer wept for children who lost their lives in this cruel world. What joy was there for them in a world filled with monsters? And she, one of them. Merida could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the way it thrummed in the main artery in his neck. And while it was common practice, the jugular most vampires favorites. It'd never been hers. There were softer, more delicate...and certainly more intimate places. She never followed. Instead, she'd always attempted to carve her own path, and regardless of the losses she'd endured, she never stopped fighting. It might've sounded cryptic, but in reality, Merida had spent most of her life alone. A life of eternity was to live in the constant state of knowing that every human life was fleeting when she had literally...forever.

This man, however, trying to broker a deal, had her tempering her thoughts momentarily, as her arms folded. Interesting, this man was...human, so about as interesting as they could be for a walking human blood bag. Just one taste, and if she decided she didn't want him for herself, she was sure he'd fetch a good price on the market. AB was the rage right now.

"Deal," holding out her hand, the tilt of her lips already claiming victory. "Ready to buy me that corn dog?" she whispered, the purr of her voice usually enough to drag any unsuspecting man to the darkness with her, until she bled them dry, or better yet, she bled them over and over to fund her...lavish lifestyle.

A lifestyle made for someone of the Borgais bloodline.

Merida didn't wait for him to back out, not as she turned and walked towards the rides without so much as a glance back to make sure he was following. She knew he was. However, that moment's walk allowed her a brief window to think, to calculate. He didn't seem all that important, though he looked sweet enough. If she drained him...well, that was a problem for later. What?! She was hungry, okay!

[sethadams-cursed]

"You're speaking to the guy who sat through all eight Friday the 13th's and laughed, prepare to empty your wallet. I want the jumbo.. with extra toppings."

Look no had to know. Plus, he'd make it up this coming October, underneath his father's tallit. For a moment, he was back there, squished between his father's chest and his brother, both vying for space underneath the cloth. His father stood, davening in unison with the many other men who gathered outside the only synagogue in Salem. It was too crowded inside, and they didn't want to waste fuel driving all the way to Boston. But that moment passed swiftly as someone dressed in a Michael Myers costume jumped out with a fake butcher knife. Seth didn't scream.

"So," he shoved his hands into his pockets, as if just realizing he'd found himself standing between a pretty girl again. Not that it didn't happen regularly (okay, perhaps not regularly, but not irregularly either), and he'd forgotten the rules on how to be cool for a second. Don't talk to her about the spiders. Don't talk to her about— "Are you from Salem?" Good job. He was learning from past mistakes. Nothing killed the mood more than trying to explain to a girl that Jennifer wasn't his pet spaniel or tabby cat, but rather his pet tarantula. And no, seriously, she was friendly… cuddly even, but hey, don't forget to wear eye protection when feeding her because she sometimes spits hair at strangers and that can cause a hell of an infection. One bad enough you might even lose your eye. But, no, she's friendly. She's great. ["Cheque?"]

"Salem's great.. I mean it has its faults of course. One being the only club in town doesn't play enough Death Metal or that you can't go one Halloween here without the entire down looking like a dollar store threw up on it, but overall... it's nice, right? I mean at least it isn't Texas." He made a face. The idea of having to tune every single one of his preset stations in order to avoid country music seemed like a lot of work for him. "Uh, so what do you do.. you know for work?"

With a mechanical scream (clearly one of the final jump scares inside, because it always indicated the next cart was about to pull up), Seth gripped the red (sort of: the paint was chipped and faded) gate in front of him in anticipation. They were next.

The sound of the Ghost Train coming to a grinding halt grabbed his attention once more, just as the attendant, currently looking like he'd heard more than his fair share of ghostly puns tonight, glanced their way and said, "Next two." Seth pushed the gate open, holding it for a few extra seconds to let the young woman inside too; it was one of those automatic swing-back-into-place ones, and he didn't want to accidentally hit her in the leg or something. "Now, I need to remind you to keep your hands and feet inside the—" Seth did a big stretch with one of his legs outside the door of the cart before quickly shutting it back up. The attendant stopped and blinked in response. "Last stretch. I swear." Without acknowledging him, the attendant continued, stating that all injuries occurring inside the ride were not the ride's fault and therefore they couldn't be sued, before walking over to his station and hovering his finger over the go button.

With a quick glance to the woman sitting beside him, Seth smiled and shot out his hand in between them both. "Oh, I'm Seth by the way—" His body jerked forward as the ride kicked off, and the cart rolled through the fake castle doors and into the darkness of the room ahead.

The only thing that could be seen was Seth's white teeth as he smiled with glee at all the campy horrors that lurked ahead. "Scared, yet?"

[meridakrawczyk]

WHO: @thecursed-starters WHEN: 31st of May, 1989' WHERE: The Carnival — The Ghost Train. TYPE: Open to all.

Prowling like the darkness from which she emerged, Merida stalked the oblivious crowd as they meandered with no worry in the world: if only they knew. The flashing lights irritated with every explosion against her senses — it was an insult to her eyes. Bright lights had never been her friend, not since the change. The carnival, a year on year family outing filled with fun activities and endless fun, was really a festering pit, its air thick with the scent of the "others," making it a perfect hunting ground for her kind. People wandered around, happiness plastered on their faces as if attending this place were a prize. To her, they were walking blood bags with big fat dollar signs on them. Begging her to take them. But they had a system for a reason: one rule. They kept their business out of Salem.

Merida, turned in the late 1800s, had once been as unassuming as they were. Now she reveled in their naivety.

The ghost train, with its...attempt at the theme known as horror, pathetic as it was, had Merida walking towards it with a raised brow. She was hungry, and after her dinner — which hadn't been satisfactory in the slightest with being so close to Salem, her mind was elsewhere. Like the young woman, early twenties, walking toward the ride alone.

"Could be interested. Do you want to come — or are you too chicken shit to even try?"

This carnival might be a joke, but at least dinner was looking up.

[sethadams-cursed]

He was supposed to be babysitting, but with three younger siblings almost half his age, he had found a way to make the job less tedious. "Here's a bucket of nickels; go wild at the arcades," he had told them. All three were video game fiends, so Seth figured he'd have a few hours to explore the carnival himself before taking them home with candy-filled bellies and soda-stained teeth. His parents would be up all night battling them to bed, but it was their fault for scheduling date night on the first evening of the carnival, anyway.

Wearing his favorite Napalm Death T-shirt, Seth stood at a crossroads, deciding between the new roller coaster, which actually looked decent this year (they'd finally ditched the usual Runaway Mouse theme for something more thrilling), and the Ghost Train. Damn, he was caught on the horns of this dilemma.

"Huh?" Did she just call him chicken shit? Seth, stole a glance at his insulter. Eyeing her up and trying very hard to place her. She definitely didn't own a cat or dog he'd stuck his finger up before, so that was refreshing. "What? The Ghost Train?" Was she new? Was she not used to the corny gags and laughable jump scares that were present inside every year. He let out a laugh. "How about let's make this interesting. First one that jumps or let's out a scream in there has to buy the other a corndog?"

[losthavenmine]

An American Werewolf in London (1981)