#dkevent1:2

[stan-meyer-blog]

The Devil in the Parish | Stan & Julie

6pm, Monday 14th October, 1998  @juliiewest​

Stan let out a breath as he stepped into the community centre, adjusting his hair as he did so. There had been a part of him that wanted to avoid this event more than anything, growing tired by the fact that everyone seemed to act like the chances of Brian being found were second to none. It was far more interesting to work out the story behind it all, instead of holding hands and singing kumbaya. But Pastor Abbott had encouraged it, and there was something about the man that left him unable to say no.

There was another issue of course, and the minute he could smell the baked goods, it came straight to his mind. Julie. There was no little to no why that little creature, calling her girl was too charitable, would not make herself known at something like this. In fact, he expected her front row, offering whatever food she’d managed to conjure. He, on the other hand, had a simple pot of mac and cheese, which compared to some of the spreads on the table seemed fairly underwhelming but there wasn’t much else to do on a budget. 

He tried not to get lost too much in the ebb and flow of what felt like the whole of Devil’s knot, though it was easier said than none. Finally, someone guided him to head into the kitchen in the back, so he could plate up his dish and put it out for whatever sorry sods wanted to try it. 

Little did Stan know, he was walking right back into the hornet’s nest. As he turned deeper into the community centre, all the noises began to fade until all he could hear was the singular sound of a tap. He peered around the corner into the kitchen and the flash of her bright blonde hair had him stopping dead. 

The sensible part of him knew he should leave, but logic and maturity had a little place when it came to Julie West. Instead, still smarting from the last blow she’d landed on him previously. He edged himself silently into the kitchen until he was right behind her back.

“Fancy finding you here.” He almost whispered, voice dancing with amusement.

[linda-goode]

Open starter

6:00 PM ,14th October 1996. 

Linda walked down from the parking lot to the community centre. It surprised her to see how many people were already walking around there. A lot had showed up with food or other things that they wanted to give to the family. To her family. Most days it still didn’t feel real to Linda, she expected to open Brian’s room door and find his small back turned to her as he slept deeply. 

Someone came to stand next to her. It took her a second to push her memories away again as she turned to the person, sadness still evident on her face before she turned her lips up into a smile. “Hi, good evening,” Linda spoke up first, “Anything I can help you with?”

[devilsknotrp]

Community Potluck for the Goode family. It’s been a whirlwind few days, to say the least. The brisk October chill has settled into the bones of each and every citizen of Devil’s Knot, and the lack of progress in Brian’s search has everyone on edge. In an effort to come together as a community and reinvigorate morale, the Church has teamed up with the Town Council to throw a block party style potluck outside the Community Center. It is expected that each family bring a dish to share and try to keep spirits light. We will find Brian, after all. It’s been a few days since the town took to the woods to search for the missing child, a search which ultimately bore no fruit. With no leads, the police seem dangerously close to where they stood in 1984. Perhaps a new face might shed some light on matters... The event starts at 6:00 PM and goes roughly until 11:00 PM. Devil’s Knot has a strict sound ordinance and curfew in place given the current circumstances (but who follows the rules anyway?). 

OOC INFORMATION

This is the second event for Chapter One: Gone. The in-game date is Monday, 14th October 1996. Please tag your threads appropriately. Remember that all threads must be tagged according to chapter (i.e. ch:1, chapter one, etc.)

[stan-meyer-blog]

Cakes, church and charm | Stan & Linda

8pm, Monday 14th October, 1998 @linda-goode

Stan stared at the end of his cigarette as it burned slowly in the dark fall air. It was like the flash of a lighthouse in the blackened sky, the only sign of life outdoors at the moment as the lights of the community centre behind him spilled out into the concrete car park. He sat on the hood of his beat up car, the rusted blue surface chipping a little further from the press of his jeans, not that it really mattered. 

He took another deep inhale of the tobacco, letting the smoke burn at the back of his throat, keeping him awake. In truth he’d found the whole thing both overwhelming and boring in equal measure. The press of plastic smiles and voices raised one too many octaves high, the sweet, sickly smell of baked goods, the slip of sweaty palms together in greeting. It was all very spiriting but also faker than the rims of his car.

While the teacher could play the game as well as anyone, there were times where one just needed to escape it all. Which is what left him lingering alone with just a smoke for company. He wasn’t even a regular, but always carried a crumpled pack for moments like this. The acrid smell reminded him of college, a time where his optimistic limits hadn’t yet come crashing down and it felt good to lose himself in the memories again rather than linger on the ills of Devil’s Knot. 

As he sat puffing away, more focused on the night’s sky than anything, he caught her out of the corner of his eyes. She floated out into the dark like a starlit saint, her steps light and head tilted up, as if beseeching the heavens for some answers. 

At first, Stan didn’t approach, he didn’t even make a sound as she walked past him, only the crackling of crisp filter paper to be heard. Instead he just stared at her, the cogs of his mind processing her, her beauty and more than that, her sadness. Perhaps that’s what caught his interest most, she looked like the old romantic portraits of women who had lost their lovers, that eerily drawn tragedy written into the lines of their face. He didn’t recognise her, which after he came to learn who she was later, was a fact that he would chastised himself for. 

Finally, he managed to draw it within him to stop staring and speak, his voice crumpled around the edges, catching the vowels with a harsh cut from the cigarette. “It can get be a bit much, right? All the chatter, all the faces.”

“Want one?” He offered out his pack simply, a small smile on his lips.

[davidgoode]

Clutching his plate of potato salad as if it would some how disappear in front of his eyes, David looked around the yard at everyone in attendance. It seemed that the whole town had shown up for the potluck. He knew he should feel grateful, glad that everyone in Devil’s Knot was showing their support. Instead, he just felt empty. Angry even. Why was his family’s tragedy suddenly so important to the town? What business did they have in his affairs?

Leaning against the tree he stood under, David looked down at the plate in his hand, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t hungry. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and listen to sad music. He didn’t want to be here and he certainly didn’t want to entertain the person he saw walking up to him. Not wanting to engage, David continued to stare at his food, waiting for the other person to make the first move. Maybe they’d get the hint that he really wasn’t in the mood to talk.