#Thenavysealkie

[thenavysealkie]

Can you really believe some con artist is trying to sell a picture of some alleged ghostly lighthouse keeper? For 20 grand? I've been up and down this coast countless times, I can assure you I've never seen him. But why? Does he not like me?

If anyone's interested in seeing some real nautical themed spooky shit, I'll gladly show you some of my own haunting evidence. I'll even do it for much cheaper! (Not free)

[eliaskahtri]

LOCATION: The Pines TIMING: Current PARTIES: Elias & Marcus (@thenavysealkie) SUMMARY: Elias is obsessed with researching the strange and unknown, and drags Marcus along on a hike for an aniukha Warnings: None!

“Oh my God, it’s Bunnicula in the flesh!”

To say that Elias was becoming obsessed with learning all he could was a massive understatement. He had printed headlines from Wicked’s Rest whether it be a copy from the library or printed out online, he had it all out on his coffee table and dining table. It was even spilling onto the kitchen island, leaving no room for him to prepare food. He had completely engulfed himself in a determination to understand the supernatural for what they were. He didn’t want to harm them. No, far from it. He wanted to know what they were, to understand it from the inside out truly. It had become all-encompassing, and Elias couldn’t stop. 

In the middle of looking at new headlines that had come out from the local paper, Elias barely registered the knock at the door. He’d heard it, but he was almost done reading. It was a headline about a pack of wild rabbits that someone swore sucked their blood as if they were a bunch of bunniculas. Elias shuddered, remembering the book from grade school. It had terrified him to the point of having a massive fear of rabbits. Of course, he was made fun of for it, but it had improved in recent months. There were worse things to be afraid of than rabbits, like these blood-sucking ones, for instance. 

He heard the door unlock and open and whirled around from his laptop to come face to face with Marcus, who had let himself in after being ignored after knocking. Twice. “Oh,” Elias spoke, realizing that it had been days since he’d last spoken to Marcus. “Hi.” His voice was guilty, realizing that he had been neglecting his relationship to research into supernatural leads. “I… meant to text you, I just got… into stuff.” He looked around at all the papers, there were no clean surfaces that didn’t have newspaper headlines. “Sorry?” 

__

It had been literal days since Marcus and Elias last spoke together, and it wasn’t from lack of effort on Marcus’s part. For a little while Marcus would at least get a “read” notification, which still stung a little, but was now only being left on delivered. He knew Elias was still going through a lot, but this was a serious backslide in behavior, and he began to worry something genuinely terrible might have happened to him. 

He was grateful Elias trusted him with a key to his apartment, as he was now trudging up the stairs intent on doing a wellness check. “Elias, if you’re alive in there, I swear I’m gonna kill you” Marcus said under his breath as he approached the door. He knocked once, then twice. Silence was all he got in response. Fuck. He knew Elias was a private person who liked his space. He didn’t want to have to use his key, but this certainly constituted an emergency. 

After unlocking the door, Marcus stepped into a dimly lit apartment building with papers and news clippings scattered everywhere. Any table space seemed wholly unusable. Somehow, it was worse than anything Marcus had been preparing for. Elias was physically okay, probably, but his change in decor was starting to give off serial killer vibes, and not the hot kind. 

Finally, he saw Elias, who turned around to offer a weak greeting to him. “Into stuff?” Marcus responded. “You tied an anchor to your feet and dove headfirst into the deep end. What is all this?” “Mysterious animal” attacks, reports of people forgetting their own names, stories of the dead walking amongst the living, and enough Irish folklore to entertain every pub in Dublin for years to come were strewn haphazardly across the entire building. 

“How about some fresh air? Sunlight? Human interaction? C’mon, we gotta get you out of this apartment.” 

__

Elias frowned, realizing how crazed he appeared to anyone who didn’t know what he was doing, who didn’t know the truth behind the madness. “No, they’re separated into patterns!” He explained, walking over to the coffee table. “Vampire attacks,” he explained, reading out headlines. “Woman left with two holes on her neck after walking into Nightfall Grove at night.” He walked over to the dining table. “People who have lost their names. Fae.” He quickly skittered to the kitchen island. “Sightings of animals that shouldn’t be. All the beasts that exist around here aren’t just a normal species.” He held up the article about the aniukhas, a name he didn’t yet know. “Bloodsucking creatures that look like rabbits.” He shuddered again, thinking of Bunnicula. 

“I don’t need sunlight, Marcus! I need answers!” His tone was desperate and pleading, throwing the article back down. “If I want to keep myself safe, I need to know. I want to understand. And the only way to do that is to gather evidence.” Elias walked over to Marcus and took his hands, eyes pleading. “Please, I need to do this.” Elias whipped around and grabbed the article outlining the Bunniculas, holding it out. “Let’s go on a hike. See if we can find them!” Elias was practically begging, folding the article up and putting it into his pocket. “Please, I need to do this. It’s… it’s the only thing that could keep me alive.” 

If Marcus was trying to get him to calm down, he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was throwing on his hiking boots and grabbing his newly purchased camera. “Come on, let’s go!” Elias was already halfway out the door, turning to see that Marcus wasn’t following him yet. “We can… talk about it after, just please follow me with this.” He clasped his hands together as he walked back over to Marcus, taking his hands again. 

__

Marcus tried to understand Elias’s path of reasoning, but could only stay silent as he listened to him ramble about vampire rabbits, of all things. “Elias, you’re trying to speedrun an encyclopedia’s worth of information in a few days. I know you’re scared but…” But what? Did he tell him the truth? That no matter how hard he worked to protect himself and learn every danger that could be lurking around the corner that there was no way to guarantee anybody’s safety? Was that really what he needed to hear right now? “But sometimes you need to give your brain a rest. Otherwise, nothing’s going to stick, ya know?” 

“You want to stay safe from the dangerous vampire rabbits…so you want to go hunting for them?” He understood wanting to study them, but they weren’t animals behind a glass or in a cage, they were wild and were very capable of attacking them if given the chance. Still, Elias needed some sort of comfort, and maybe this could provide that for him. “Alright fine, why not? You seem like you want to go with or without me, so I might as well tag along for some protection. 

“Where exactly are we hiking? Is there a particular spot this attack reports are coming from?” Marcus asked, hoping that they’d at least be headed somewhere familiar.

Elias nodded his head with a bright grin that reached his eyes, more than he’d been capable of in some time. Whether or not it was healthy for the level of obsession Elias had reached or not, it made him happy to find something that excited him again. Sure, maybe he needed to dial it back several notches, but he was getting somewhere. “Yes!” He exclaimed before tugging on Marcus’s hand and dragging him out the door, only barely remembering to stop and lock his door before continuing down the hall to the stairs and his car. 

The drive was silent as they listened to the radio, Elias tapping his finger on the steering wheel. “It’s out near the pines,” Elias explained as they neared the location. “A hiking trail.” He added, that before turning into a preserve parking lot, there were only two other cars in the lot. “Come on!” Elias practically jumped out of the car with excitement, grabbing his camera and heading toward the trailhead. 

Elias bounced excitedly as he pulled out the article, wishing that he had someone like Maggie to draw them. An idea popped into his head after that. What if he got pictures of these creatures, and asked Maggie to draw them in her style? They could collaborate on a Wicked’s Rest encyclopedia of beasts! Elias looked to make sure Marcus was following, then started down the hiking path. “It was somewhere near the middle of the trail,” Elias further explained as they walked along, taking care to look around the bottom of trees and brush. “Keep your eyes out.” 

__

Marcus had a bad feeling in his gut. He and Elias could handle a vampire rabbit if it really came down to it, but there was no guarantee that was all they’d find during their hunt. Nature had a habit of being entirely unpredictable, and wouldn’t just hand deliver exactly what they needed when they needed it. 

Still, seeing Elias being excited about something instead of wallowing around as a shell of a person made Marcus overwhelmingly happy, and he certainly didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this development. At least he had something to be passionate about now, dangerous though it may be. 

“You ever see those pictures of bigfoot? The super grainy ones taken from 10 miles away? I’m hoping we can get better pictures of these rabbits than those pictures.” Marcus knew Elias liked Bigfoot, and was hoping to use that to encourage him to take high-quality pictures even when he inevitably gets spooked.  “Who knows? Maybe we can even get famous off of them. Of course…there’ll always be those people explaining why they’re fake in some way or another.” 

They walked along to the part of the trail Elias said they should be at. Marcus stopped and listened carefully for any signs of movement along the path. His eyes scanned the brushline as he tried to pick out anything out of the ordinary. 

__

Turning the camera around in his hands as Marcus talked about making money off of photos, Elias was quick to shake his head. “I don’t want to make them public. I… don’t think a lot of people would be able to deal with it like I couldn’t once.” He explained, frowning. “But I think that if I could put together some sort of catalog or something, then when something happened, we could reference it with what we knew.” Elias looked toward Marcus, shrugging his shoulders. “But making money off of it and freaking people out? I don’t think that’s the solution.” 

There had been enough people who had tried to tell Elias that it was too dangerous to know the truth, but Elias thought that it was the exact opposite. For him, at least. That didn’t mean the same for others. “So for now, we keep whatever we find to ourselves, alright?” Elias nodded his head once he felt satisfied that Marcus was on the same page, then kept walking. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts, I just get… so engrossed in things once I get started,” Elias explained, continuing to fiddle with the camera that he had in his hands. “I don’t mean to do it, and you were right to check on me. I got a bit… carried away.” His voice trailed off, realizing that it was far worse than simply getting carried away, it was an all-out obsession. “I love that you’re too stubborn to give up on me, but I still feel guilty.” 

Elias walked slowly in line with Marcus, taking a leisurely pace instead of searching incessantly for the creatures like he desperately wanted to. “I’ll do better. I’ll get better at answering my phone. I’ll turn the ringer on and everything.” He put a hand up as if he were swearing an oath.

__

Marcus simply shrugged his shoulders at Elias’s comment. “Truth’s already out there. Pictures or no pictures, people are going to have to make a choice to believe their own eyes or explain everything away ‘rationally’”. He was convinced there were many people who he could shift in front of and they still would think it was all some elaborate act. Some people were beyond convincing, and Marcus figured that was to his benefit and the benefit of other supernaturals around him. “But yeah! A little Wicked’s Rest bestiary sounds like exactly the kind of thing this town needs! Can’t know what to look out for if you don’t know it exists.” 

Marcus was down on his hands and knees looking for any signs of bloodthirsty bunnies. Admittedly, this was probably a stupid idea as he was putting his neck perfectly at fang level for them. He quickly realized this mistake and stood back up again as he heard Elias’s apology. “I don’t ask for much. Just an ‘I’m still alive’ text every day isn’t going to hurt you. But apology accepted. I can understand getting so engrossed in something like this, you’ve sort of had your whole worldview turned upside down recently. 

Just then, Marcus picked up on a slight rustling sound from the grass. It was faint, but he heard it, from the direction of a tall tree. He put up a finger to Elias, indicating for him to be quiet before he quickly peered in the direction of the tree to try and spot any hint of what they were looking for. Initially, there was nothing. But then, suddenly, the rustling started again, much faster than the last. And it was moving straight for both of them.

Thinking about the term bestiary, Elias decided to file that idea away for later. He did like the idea of calling it an encyclopedia better, but Marcus may be onto something there. Before he could continue the conversation, Marcus was holding up a finger for Elias to stay quiet. Elias readied the camera and searched the ground, snapping photos when something lept from the brush and attached itself onto Marcus’s face. “Oh god!” Elias cried, snapping photos before dropping the camera and rushing to help Marcus. 

As soon as Elias was able to yank the thing off of Marcus’s face, he took a look at the creature, eyes wide. “Oh my God, it’s Bunnicula in the flesh!” Elias exclaimed, throwing the creature to the ground in a hurry, horrified. Elias felt his legs begin to shake as his heart started racing, the fear that it really was a vampire rabbit who was there to drain him of his blood and kill him and Marcus. He really should have thought this through better. He knew this was what he was looking for, but now? Now he was in the thick of it and he didn’t know how to get out of it. 

Elias quickly scrambled to pick up his camera and took more photos of the creature, one of them was of it leaping straight for the lens, which Elias would later look at as a masterpiece. But for now, it was terrifying. For now, Elias needed to get Marcus and get out of there. Elias smacked Bunnicula out of the way and leaned down to grab Marcus’s hand and drag him along. “Come on, there’s bound to be more, let’s get out of here before that happens!” He told Marcus. “I got the photos, we’re golden!”

__

Marcus was in a daze as he felt the fangs finally release from his face. It was a very brief attack, but not one he was expecting. How was he supposed to know such a tiny little rabbit could be so strong? He heard Elias’s voice telling him they needed to go, and it took his brain a few moments to process what was actually happening. Finally, however, he was able to bring himself back up to his feet with Elias’s help and brush himself off quickly before booking it the hell out of dodge. 

They ran and ran until it finally seemed as if they were in the clear. They surely must have broken some sort of running record in the process with how fast they sprinted out of there. Catching their breaths quickly, the pair kept moving until finally returning to the car. 

“Well…I have to say I’m not a fan of the up close and personal method of getting pictures. But I will admit that the quality is great! There’s really no refuting that sort of thing. And people will have a great idea of what to look out for if they’re ever in the woods.” Would it really help people when the little bloodsuckers like to keep themselves hidden? Not really, but if it made Elias feel more comfortable and safe, Marcus was willing to roll with it. 

“I do have one request. If we go hunting for anything bigger, let’s protect ourselves a little better, yeah? I don’t exactly want to become anything’s dinner if I can help it.” 

__

As soon as they were back in the safety of Elias’s car, Elias took deep breaths to catch his breath, eagerly looking through his camera to find the photos he had taken. He’d done it, he’d gotten it on camera. Elias let out a laugh, astonished that he’d been able to capture it so well. He showed Marcus and grinned widely. Finally, Elias had a purpose again. He was going to do this, whether people told him to or not. And Marcus? He was along for the ride. He wasn’t stopping him, only telling him to be better at defense before going after more dangerous things.  Elias’s excitable grin melted into one of love and appreciation, then leaned over the console to press a kiss to Marcus’s cheek. “Thank you.” Was all he said before turning on the car and heading back to the apartment. He had a long way to go, but this was a good first step in getting somewhere. And wherever that was, Elias didn’t quite know yet, but he was eager to find out.

[singdreamchild]

Spooky Scary (Plastic) Skeletons

LOCATION: Wicked's Rest High School parking lot TIMING: RECENT PARTIES: Cassius (@singdreamchild) & Marcus (@thenavysealkie) SUMMARY: A plastic classroom skeleton follows Cassius out of school one day. Marcus decides to step in and help. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Cassius didn’t spend a lot of time in the science department of Wicked’s Rest High School for a variety of reasons. One, the old biology teacher Dr. Schwartz always had the coolest ties and wanted to talk to him endlessly about them. Second, Mrs. Cella the chemistry teacher was always trying to invite him out for drinks. He wasn’t interested. But he had to walk through the science department to get to his car, so away he trekked through the hallway to the exit, putting his headphones in to drown out anyone trying to get his attention. 

What he wasn’t aware of, was the biology skeleton that had taken up sentience and began to follow Cassius out of the building and to his car. Of course, he didn’t hear it, seeing as how he had completely tuned out the world around him in way of music. Still, he felt… watched. So quickly, he turned around. As he did so, the skeleton skuttled out of the vampire’s line of sight. The blond frowned, looking around for a few more seconds before turning back to his car to throw his bag into the passenger seat. Something still didn’t feel right. 

Then, he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye, Cassius noticed a plastic skeletal hand reaching out toward him. “Aha!” Cassius shouted, pointing to the very animated skeleton with no one around controlling him. HIs face fell immediately. “Oh… that’s very concerning.” He decided with a deeply unsettled frown. 

Another unseasonably warm day in Wicked’s Rest, and Marcus was ready to take full advantage of it. He decided to take a particularly long walk around town, after all it had been a while since he was able to walk around without feeling the ocean winds chilling his bones. He also decided to go to a part of town he didn’t often stop by, just to add a little extra variety to his walk. 

Along the way, he ended up passing the town’s high school. He supposed it made sense that there were enough children here to warrant having a high school, but he felt a tinge of sympathy for children having to grow up in a town filled with so many dangers. His own upbringing was rather privileged, so he never had to worry about the dangers of life until he was thrown head first into the fire after graduation. 

He reminisced for a bit about his time in high school, he was a very gifted athlete and one of the more popular students. Not that any of that did him any good nowadays. As he walked past, he kept his eyes on the parking lot and examined the teachers leaving along with a handful of students who had left the building later due to extracurriculars. 

Then, suddenly, something caught his eye. A pale man with blonde hair was walking to his car and being followed by a taller and slightly paler man. Wait, was the tall pale man naked? Marcus looked a bit closer and almost couldn’t believe his eyes. A plastic skeleton had somehow started walking all on its own and seemed to be following this poor man to his car. He approached the two, just as he saw the man turn around and give a rather melodramatic response to seeing the…whatever it was. The two men made eye contact and Marcus continued approaching further. 

“Hey, do you need help with…whatever that is?”

Cassius frowned, tilting his head from side to side to investigate the skeleton that was now 

following him around. Sure enough, it was definitely Dr. Schwartz’s classroom skeleton, it was wearing one of his ridiculous bowties. “I, uh…” Cassius wasn’t sure what to say to the stranger. “I don’t really know what to do with it. The skeleton is just… following me.” Cassius leaned in toward the skeleton, which caused the skeleton to to do the same; lean in toward Cassius with the rattling of its plastic bones. 

Deciding he didn’t like this, Cassius reopened the door to his car and attempted to get into it, but all it did was cause the skeleton to smack its arm in the door so Cassius couldn't close it. Well, he certainly could, but… would that be school property damage? Finally, the blonde looked to the stranger with a furrowed brow. 

“I think it’s haunted.” He finally said as he forced himself back out of the car. “I mean, I’ve got no other possible explanation other than necromancer, but it’s clearly made of plastic.” Cassius leaned forward and flicked the skeleton’s bowtie with narrowed eyes. “Well skeleton of Dr. Scwhwartz, what is it you want?” He asked the skeleton, which simply took off its own head and tucked it under its arm. Was it… was it trying to play jokes?

“Haunted? Ah, I see. Just another Friday afternoon then,” Marcus replied, rolling his eyes at the man. In spite of how commonplace freaky occurrences were here, he still couldn’t get over how nonchalant everybody seemed to be about potentially dangerous occurrences happening all over town. 

“Skeleton of Dr. Schwartz? Like, the skeleton formerly known as Dr. Schwartz? Because he looks plastic to me,” Marcus astutely pointed out. He determined it was probably a low likelihood the skeleton ever belonged to an actual human being. Marcus then watched as the skeleton tucked its severed skull under its arm like a football. 

“Is there something you need?”, he asked the skeleton, feeling somewhat ridiculous talking to it in this way. “Anything you need to pass on to the other side? Or maybe-ow!” Marcus was suddenly cut off as the skeleton threw its skull straight at Marcus’s chest, hopping in place from one foot to the other as it watched the skull roll back to its owner before picking it back up and putting it back in place. 

“I don’t think this thing wants help, so what does it want? Just to cause us some headaches?”, he asked the man next to him, hoping he may have had a better idea for getting rid of this thing.

“No, not the teacher. Dr. Schwartz is a biology teacher, he’s got a skeleton in his classroom.” Cassius quickly explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Definitely made of plastic. Though how it got itself down off the rack that kept him in place, I don’t know.” Cassius mused, watching the skeleton as it chucked its head at Marcus, then danced a little as it waited for its head to roll back. 

Cassius nodded in response to Marcus’s nonchalant acceptance of the strange situation that was unfolding in front of them. The blonde wanted to be serious, but there was something about a skeleton throwing its own skull around that really tickled him. He took a few steps backward, then threw his hands up in the air. “Go long!” He told the skeleton, who swiftly detached a part of its vertebrae and threw it at Cassius who caught with with a grin. “I think he just wants to have a good time, personally.” The vampire spoke before getting the skull tossed at him. He dropped the vertebrae piece, then caught the skull, staring at it.

“This town is strange, but sometimes it’s a fun strange,” Cassius decided with an amused smile on his face. Cassius threw the skull back to the skelton, who caught it without a problem. “Maybe the spirit really likes chaos and a good sports game.” He frowned, realizing how stupid that sentence sounded the second it came out of his mouth. “I’m Cassius, I’m a teacher here.” He picked up the vertebrae and stared at it for a moment. “Don’t suppose you know what we should do?”

Marcus had quickly decided that this dude was crazy. Here they were in a high school parking lot on a Friday afternoon playing catch with a skeleton. No, not throwing the skeleton around and catching it. Playing catch with the skeleton. He didn’t know whether to join in or walk away from the two. After all, it didn’t seem like Cassius was in any way concerned about the walking plastic bone man. 

“Fun strange, sure. You and I have different definitions of fun maybe. I’m not so sure he came to life and latched himself onto you just to play a little bone ball. It has to want something from you.” As the skeleton caught its own skull again it placed it back atop its body and shook its head in disapproval. 

“My name’s Marcus, I tend to the lighthouse over on Hanging Rock. As for what we should do…I’m not sure. Burn it? Is that a little too extreme? I just don’t know what this thing here is capable of, you know?”

Cassius slowly nodded his head as he came to grips with the idea that the skeleton before them wasn’t a simple trickster. “I mean, I know you’re right.” He relented with a deep sigh, and the skeleton seemed to take this as a warning. “I think he understands us.” He told Marcus with a worried expression as the skeleton tore off its left arm and hurled it at the pair. Cassius dodged the arm, then picked it up, only for the arm to swing at him on its own accord. Cassius dropped the arm. 

“Yeah, okay. Time to burn.” Cassius decided as he reached into his car to pull out a lighter. “How are we going to do this?” He asked, knowing he only had so much time left before the sun seriously started to hurt him. It wa overcast, and the sun was setting, but it was still there. Thankfully he wore long everything. The only part of him uncovered were his hands and his face.

“I don’t just keep lighter fluid on me!” He told Marcus, now unsure as to how they were going to light this thing on fire in the first place. “Do we just let him keep throwing parts of himself until there’s nothing left?” Cassius then asked with raised brows. It was definitely something the skeleton seemed keen on doing.

While Marcus was pleased that Cassius seemed to be listening to reason and wanted to kill whatever this thing was, the question still remained as to how to do it. Marcus, from personal experience, knew that plastic burned pretty well once you actually got a good flame going. The problem would be getting that kind of flame going using only a lighter on a moving and very combative target. 

He put his hand out to signal Cassius to hand him the lighter. 

“I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way,” he said before tackling the skeleton to the ground and holding the lighter up against the plastic. A small flame erupted from its…tibula? Was that a bone in the arm? Regardless, one of the arm bones caught on fire and the plasticy flesh began to melt before Marcus’s eyes. The skeleton quickly detached that arm and stood, now freed from Marcus’s hold. It didn’t seem to be in any pain, but the overall stance it had communicated frustration.

“Well, that’s one limb down. Maybe we just gotta take this thing out piece by piece,” he said, as he watched the skeletal arm melt in a puddle on the ground. 

Watching helplessly as Marcus began to melt down the plastic bones, Cassius walked up to the skeleton and plucked the head off of it and threw it to the ground and stomped on it as hard as he could. The plastic cracked apart with ease, leaving the skeleton headless and armless. He’d killed before. He’d killed wights, rock monsters, people, none of it ever felt any good. But the plastic skeleton that gained sentience? Cassius felt perhaps the worst about that one. 

For no reason other than a good time, this thing followed him out of the school, and here he was with a complete stranger, destroying the thing without so much as a second thought. “Sorry, buddy.” Cassius told the skeleton as it tried to scamper off. Before it could get too far, the blond picked up what remained of the skeleton, and it began flailing its body helplessly.

He turned to Marcus, then gave him an expectant look. “Shall we?” He asked with a quirked brow. The skeleton continued to flail, and still, Cassius felt bad. Perhaps it was the part of him that was conditioned to be as human as possible that kept him from truly killing without remorse, but still… What if it really only wanted to have a little fun? Guilt wracked the blond as he watched Marcus take care of the rest. 

His face was starting to burn, and he knew he had to leave before it started to do irreparable damage to his face. “I have to go,” Cassius said hurriedly before getting into his car, out of direct sun. He immediately calmed as soon as he was in the shade of his car, then looked to Marcus before pulling away. Better to pretend none of this happened. Poor skeleton friend.

Marcus had to admit he felt a little bad about killing the skeleton, after it all, it hadn’t explicitly tried to kill them. However it certainly did attack them by throwing its various bones at them. Now here it was, without a head or an arm, and they were about to burn what was left. Then, without warning, Cassius dropped the skeleton and excused himself hurriedly to his car. Marcus watched in amazement as the man who was just going to battle with a plastic skeleton with him five seconds ago was suddenly pulling away in his car. 

“Uh…bye I guess?” he called out, knowing the other man couldn’t hear him. He quickly set the rest of the skeleton’s body on fire, letting it burn helplessly on the ground. Whatever was possessing that thing to walk around on its own couldn’t have been good, and he was more at ease knowing that it was gone for good.  Marcus just stood over the pile of melted plastic molded to the asphalt of the parking lot. What did he do now? What does anyone do after murdering a sentient science skeleton? He shrugged his shoulders, and decided to head home. While he had decided a walk on this part of town would be nice to add a little excitement, he decided it was a bit too much excitement. Better to stick to the paths he’s familiar with moving forward. He decided to keep Cassius’s lighter, as he hadn’t bothered to stick around to get it back from him.

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @thenavysealkie @realmackross TIMING: July 12th at Hollow Point Armory SUMMARY: Two strangers come together to help a crotchety old store owner with the promise of free weapons as payment. WARNINGS: unsanitary tw and just know there's a big ass spider involved.

“After his previous encounter with that zombie from the ocean, Marcus couldn’t help but feel much more vulnerable. He had let his guard down and allowed himself to feel too safe and secure in Wicked’s Rest. A stupid thing to do, he figured, in a town full of supernatural creatures. If the hunters don’t get you, the water ghouls will. If he was going to stick around here permanently, and he planned to, then he was going to need better protection. 

He entered in through the doors of Hollow Point Armory and was amazed at the selection of firearms available. While Marcus always preferred to fight with a knife, a little strength from a distance couldn’t hurt. From his time in the navy, he had enough training to be confident and accurate with a pistol and rifle. Still, he was mostly in need of a new blade. He examined the one his father had given him on his 18th birthday, the handle in the design of a sea serpent, coming up to a brass hilt. The blade itself was rather short at about 4 ½ inches long, and made of iron, in case any disgruntled fae came after him for sapping their magic. However, the handle had lost its grip and the blade had started to lose its edge. It was becoming more of a liability to try and use than it was a source of protection. Besides, he would want a longer blade to put more distance and who/whatever it was that was trying to kill him. 

One knife grabbed his attention, easily double the length of his current one, with a practical black wooden handle. The surface of the handle was gritty, ensuring Marcus that he could maintain a good grip. The blade itself looked razor sharp, and granted him enough distance to command much more room in a combat scenario. His heart sank a bit when he saw the price of the weapon. He figured, if it saved his life, then it would be priceless. But “priceless” sure was a lot of money. 

Call it boredom or call it Llama just needing something to relieve her mind, but somehow she had found her way into Hollow Point Armory. It was the last place she had expected to find herself, but considering she felt completely alone in the world and without protection, it was probably the best place. For years she had the comfort of knowing her bodyguard had been on speed dial if she had ever needed anything, despite the fact that she was pretty well versed in martial arts. But Wicked’s Rest was turning out to be a completely different ball game with challenges that California just didn’t seem to have.

Perusing the aisles slowly, she let her eyes scan the shelves and cases for anything that struck her fancy. She knew the ease guns could bring by aiming, pointing, and shooting, but she had a true and passionate hate for the weapons. So when she had come to the gun section of the store, she easily passed it up. However, to her surprise, two aisles over, Llama had found exactly what she was looking for…katanas, nunchucks, and other various tools she had been familiar with.

Slowly rubbing her cold fingers across the hilt of a really nice katana hanging up, Llama’s mind went back to the time she had first held one. It was intimidating, and she had hesitated, but once she had gotten the hang of swinging the sword, she instantly fell in love. Of course, the realization of where she was standing hit pretty hard. Did she really want to leave the store with a sword in hand? Normally, she would have been all for it, but considering some of the most recent rumors that had been spreading in the media about her, she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Maybe a bo staff would be the better choice?

Marcus’s concentration was broken when he sensed movement on the other side of the store. He had assumed it was just him and the store owner in the building, and curiosity got the better of him. He looked over to find a pale woman staring longingly at the katana selection. She definitely seemed to have good taste, he gave her that. While Marcus always thought katanas were a badass choice of weapon, he figured they were a touch impractical as opposed to a knife, which was more portable and versatile. 

He watched the woman’s gaze shift from the katanas over to the bo staffs. To be honest, Marcus knew nothing about fighting with a staff. He figured if there was no bladed end, it probably wasn’t going to do much damage without a lot of effort. Still, he had to admit the additional range the weapon provided had to have its own uses. 

The woman seemed…well not like the type of person you would see casually perusing through lethal weapons. She didn’t appear like the rough and tumble type of woman that he came to see quite often around town. Instead, she looked as though an influencer had been airdropped into a combat site. And yet, she certainly did seem to have at least some idea of what she was looking for. Knowing that this was a dangerous town, and having weapons experience himself, he chanced approaching the woman, being sure to grab her attention from a distance so he didn’t startle her with a weapon in her hand. 

“Excuse me, did you need any help finding anything in particular?”

Llama’s eyes continued to stray to the katanas and without second thought, she decided to pick one up. Easing it off the rack, she pulled it into her hands. The weight was familiar. It had been a little while, but it felt good. She so desperately wanted to swing it, but knew better than to in a public place with the risk of someone approaching her. And about the time the thought entered her head, she heard a voice.

Looking up and letting her eyes meet his, she spoke, “Uh, no. I think I found my section. Not really a gun person. But it’s really the question of do I want to buy this, a bo staff, or nunchucks.” She hadn’t quite been a fan of throwing stars. If someone knew how to use them and could use them efficiently then Llama had respect for them, but they just didn’t give her the relief she so desired. “What would you recommend?” She wasn’t sure if the man she was talking to worked here or was just another wandering customer like herself, but she did value hearing his opinion, especially knowing that he had no idea who she was.

Llama gently held the sword out to him, “I mean I like the weight of this, but I’m really looking for something for a meditative purpose, I think. But, like, also something that’s going to keep me safe.” She was starting to get somewhat nervous, afraid that he was going to judge her for being in a weapons store, even though she had every right to be. She may not have looked the type, but Llama could drop a man to his knees in a heartbeat, if she felt threatened.

Katana, bo staff, and nunchucks? All she was missing was a pair of sai and she could do a one woman recreation of the ninja turtles. Marcus had to admire her proficiency in different weapons, even if they were a bit obsolete by today’s standards. Given her Hollywood looks, something about her holding the katana reminded him of that scene in Kill Bill. The one where Uma Thurman rampaged through 88 people without taking a scratch. Yup, definitely badass, he decided. 

She was asking him for a recommendation and asked for something “meditative?” What exactly did that mean? He conjured in his mind the image of monks meditating. They used staffs, right? That’s at least what the movies would have him believe. 

“If you’re looking for something more meditative and less stabby, the bo staff seems like a good option. But if you want strong protection, I’d have to recommend something with a little more stopping power.” He walked over to a pair of nunchucks, a little surprised that the store even carried them, and picked them up, feeling their weight. “These are quick, less awkward to maneuver, and if you smack somebody at just the right spot in their temple, they’ll go down fast. Only problem is you can hit yourself too, so I’d recommend getting some good training in with these if you’re gonna use them”. 

In actuality, Marcus hadn’t been trained in any of these weapons. But he did watch a lot of action movies, especially the old karate theater films from the 70s and 80s, so he figured that mixed with his actual combat experience pretty much made him an expert. 

She hung on his every word. He seemed to know what he was doing and talking about, and she could appreciate that. She had seen all the ways you could get lost in twirling a bo staff, and the idea had relaxed her, but the point he made about the nunchucks was legit too. Llama didn’t know how much trouble she could possibly get into, but if it was anything like the crystalized creatures she had seen lurking around town, she certainly didn’t want to be without protection. Plus, with the nunchucks it would be a little more discrete. They could be tucked into the back of her pants, in one of her huge hoodies, or her Chanel tote (but that one was only for special occasions).

Llama followed him, but made sure to keep her distance in case he started swinging. There was nothing like getting hit with a pair of nunchucks. She remembered having three stitches to the forehead, and after that, she made it a priority to never hit herself again. Listening carefully as he explained things, the young actress kept a content look on her face and nodded in agreement, “You do have a point. I mean no copious amounts of blood. Easier to carry around then a bo staff or Katana. Do you mind if I see a pair?”

Stepping forward, she picked up a pair from the shelf. She didn’t want to offend him and the advice he was giving her, so Llama made it a point to look them over carefully, “Nice bit of weight to them. Good grip. Seems like they’re pretty easy to handle.” Moving back away from the man she had just met, and making sure nothing was around her, Llama let one of the nunchucks drop, so they were ready to use, “So you just kinda…swing ‘em around?” Okay, at this point she was totally messing with him. She had been training in martial arts since she was thirteen. Though it had been a hot minute since she had picked up a pair of nunchucks. This was either going to go really well or really poorly, but either way, at least it would be entertaining.

Starting off slow, she let the windmill motion start to build momentum. She had enjoyed her brain smoothie not too long before coming into the store, so her mind was sharper than normal. As the nunchucks started to swing faster, Llama began flipping them and rotating them in different directions, even catching the free side behind her back in her opposite hand. It was all coming back to her naturally, and it was a rush she had missed. When she finally finished, she let the free end swing up under her arm, “Yeah, that felt good. I think I’ll take the nunchucks…”

Marcus observed the woman pick up a pair of nunchucks and get a feel for them. He got nervous when she asked if she’s just supposed to swing them around and became even more anxious when she started doing just that. His eyes darted over to the nearby shelves, hoping she wouldn’t break anything. He would try and grab her arms to stop her, but the risk of getting hit was much too high. 

His anxiety gave way to astonishment as he watched the woman artfully handle the nunchucks, even throwing in cool flairs and tricks. She handled the weapon like an absolute seasoned pro and he could do nothing but stare slack jawed at the performance. When she finally finished her routine, she very casually said that they seemed like a good fit. He couldn’t tell if this was an extreme case of “being a natural” or if he was being played, but either way this woman continued to impress him. Still, he didn’t particularly appreciate being shown up by a woman whose skills he had discounted again. Was everybody in this town a secret super soldier?

Marcus cleared his throat. “Right, definitely seems like you can handle them pretty well. I hope whatever you need protection from will-”, he was suddenly cut off by a voice towards the back of the store yelling out. “DAMMIT! NOT ANOTHER ONE!”, the voice shouted. The store owner stumbled out from the back, seeming surprised to find customers in the store. 

“Sorry folks, didn’t realize anybody was in here. You���ll have to excuse the noise there’s a…a bit of a situation in the back. Don’t worry, I have a hunter who's been coming in to deal with these pests.” Then under his breath, Marcus could hear the man say “he’s just so expensive”. Finally the man perked up again and said “Anyway, if you want to bring those purchases up here, I can-” before being cut off by a loud crashing sound in the back again. The man sighed and said “If this keeps up much longer it’s gonna trash my store!”

Llama was fighting back the urge to laugh, but there was an apparent grin on her face. She had almost forgotten how much enjoyment she had from flipping nunchucks around. She would definitely be purchasing those, and thanking the man, whether he was an employee or not, for helping her. But before she could explain herself and the experience she had, the loud crash and booming voice coming from the back.

Narrowing her eyes, Llama glanced over to the man next to her, before seeing the store owner walk out. She listened to him apologize, but also the use of the word hunter had seemed strange. Was that the name of a Pest Control service offered in Wicked’s Rest? Normally they were just called exterminators, where she was from. And she had known of a great one, but that was back in California.

Again, Llama was going to speak as she began walking forward, until she heard another crash. Turning her attention back to the weapon’s expert, she finally spoke, “Should we do something or call somebody? I know an exterminator back home, but he lives in California. Maybe animal control or…I’ve just never heard of somebody calling for a hunter to take care of a pest problem” She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she could hear the desperation in his voice. “I mean, how hard is it to catch a loose squirrel or something?” She shrugged, the nunchucks still in her hands.

Marcus watched the girl in front of him, looking more and more lethal with those nunchucks in her hand. She did have a point, how hard could it be to take care of a small pest problem? If he was really desperate and short on cash, he’d be more than willing to try and help him out. If the woman in the store with him wanted to help out, then that would be even better. Who knows what kind of damage she could do with those nunchucks? While he didn’t fancy the idea of killing anything, preferring to relocate, he also understood the damage that some critters could cause. 

He glanced sideways at the woman next to him, who also looked eager to help in any way she could. 

“Maybe I could help with your little pest problem? After all, I’d hate for you to have to pay the rates a hunter charges just to deal with something small,” Marcus offered to the store owner.

“Oh it’s nothing small,” the man said, shaking his head from side to side. “It’s…well probably better if I showed you first. If you still want to try and kill the damned thing, be my guest. I’ll give you that knife free of charge if you can take it out. I’ll just have you sign a waiver beforehand stating that I take no responsibility for any injury, dismemberment, or death that may occur as a result of you taking on this job. Just legal formalities, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” 

That certainly didn’t put Marcus at ease, but he was also never one to turn down a challenge. He nodded his head at the man, conveying his willingness to accept even though his nerves now made it difficult to speak. What on earth could be holed up in this shop that’s so dangerous?

“And how about you, girly?” The man said, now turning to face the woman with the nunchucks.  “Wanna join in? I’ll, of course, have to get you to sign the same waiver. Same deal, you get to walk out of here with those nunchucks, free of charge. Whaddya say?”

Llama listened to the conversation going on between both men. It was still odd to hear them both refer to exterminators as hunters, but maybe it was an east coast thing. She wasn’t here to judge. And the term hunter became the least of her worries when the owner hinted at the creature not being small. What in the world was he dealing with? Big Foot? And on top of that a waiver would have to be signed? If her agent and lawyer had been present they would have told her no. Turned down the offer in a heartbeat for her and pulled her out of the store. But they weren’t here, and she wasn’t exactly acting at the moment. But did she still want to possibly get dismembered over a set of nunchucks she could easily just purchase? No. But maybe over the idea that her life didn’t have to be so closed off here in Wicked’s Rest. She could still do stuff. She just had to be careful.

“What the hell? Count me in. Where’s this waiver I’ve gotta sign?” She eagerly moved towards the older man ready for an adventure. I mean she had discovered with Mateo and the fireworks that body parts did grow back. Slowly if it was bad enough, but with the right amount of food, she would be good. Llama just wanted something, anything that would keep her from being curled up alone in a huge house away from everyone.

Looking back over to the man behind her, Llama let a sly grin slip over her face. This was either going to go really well or really poorly, but at least neither one of them would be alone, “Let’s do this.” Spinning the nunchucks again, before pulling them back up under her arm, the actress was ready to take on something new and exciting. It was as if she had been offered a part in a new horror/action movie, and she was going to take the role as seriously as she possibly could.

Marcus was pleased to hear he wouldn’t be going into this alone, especially if it was with somebody who at least seemed to know what they were doing. Still, the waiver definitely concerned him. It was bad enough he was in danger, but now somebody else was too? He remembered Nora and the rush of excitement they got upon slaying the monster on the beach. How bad could this creature be in comparison to that? 

He glanced over at the woman, and nodded his head. Before following the shopkeep back, he shook the woman’s hand and introduced himself. “Marcus, by the way. Figure if we’re gonna go into the belly of the beast together we may as well know each other’s names' '. 

“You two gonna keep lollygaggin’, or are you gonna follow me? I ain’t got all day”. 

Marcus took a little offense to the man he figured he was doing a huge favor for suddenly rushing them. Still, his feet carried him forward through a narrow corridor. At last they got to a back room which he presumed was used for storage. It was a tall wooden double door with two brass ring handles. It looked like something out of the 16th century that would lead to a monarch’s bedchambers, yet the wood and metal were both in stunningly good condition. He could hear a skittering sound inside, followed by the sound of more boxes crashing to the floor. 

“The beast is just through here. Good luck! If yer not back in 20 minutes, I’ll assume it went ahead and ate ya. Now get in there and give it hell!”

Llama stuck her hand out and gave him a firm handshake in return, “It’s nice to meet you, Marcus. I’m Llama. Long story for another day. Right now we’ve got a beast to slay.” It was as if she had gone into character mode. She was focused, and she didn’t want to break that focus by explaining how she came to have the name Llama in the first place, which was still hard to wrap her mind around.

Hearing the request of the man caused the actress to narrow her eyes. This guy had definitely sounded like one of the many pushy directors she had worked with in the past. It usually made for an awkward day on set, but she had learned to push past stuff like this. Besides, it wasn’t like this guy was going to be calling the shots much longer. He was just going to send them into the dark to face something that could probably eat their face and call it a day. Despite her instincts telling her to turn around though, Llama let her curiosity and need for something exciting and dangerous to pull her forward.

As they approached the back, Llama found herself confused by the sudden change in scenery. Leaning in towards Marcus, she couldn’t help but make a comment, “Did we just step back in time or something?” But before she could say anything else, she found herself facing their fate with an encouraging warning to give the beast hell!

Llama looked back over at Marcus as they stood in front of the door, “You know, I’m rich, and I can just buy this shit and anything else you want in the store, and we can call it a day…” All sense of adventure was quickly leaving her body with the threat less than 10 feet away behind a door that looked like it was meant for something other than slaying dragons.

Llama. Now that was a very… unique name. Marcus was going to question how somebody could have come to be named Llama, but growing up on the west coast he wasn’t all too surprised. The hippie flower children naming their kids after trees, rivers, and animals. It was only a matter of time until they ran out of good ones and had to start settling for “Llama” to still make their kids seem unique. He just hoped she wasn’t bullied too badly during her school years. 

“You come from a lot of money, eh? So do I, actually. Although a lot of that money is sort of tied up at the moment”. While the navy brass was off his trail for now, withdrawing from his accounts would certainly draw suspicion. While he felt comfortable letting his loved ones know he was okay now, he would have to get access to his money some other way once more time passed. 

“Explains the looks. I, uh, mean that in a good way.” 

He had to admit that he also felt very nervous as well, not that he would allow himself to show it. He looked over at Llama and simply offered “How about this? We peek our heads inside just to get a look at it. If it looks too scary, we run. After all, we signed a waiver, not a contract. But if you’re looking for that rush, that sense of adventure, and it looks weak enough, then I say let’s go for it. Plus, we’ll have the peace of mind knowing we’ve done a good deed.” Granted, that good deed was being done for a very rude person in risk of their own safety, but Marcus’s sense of duty was a strong one. In his mind, he couldn’t turn back now. It would go against his very nature to do so. 

Marcus carefully pulled on one of the handles and, slowly, the doors began to creep open. Marcus peered through the small opening and saw only a dark room. He could see in the dark well enough, but only saw knocked over shelves with items strewn across the floor of the room. There were definitive scratch marks on the walls.  And yet, he didn’t see any sort of creature. It was as if the beast they had been warned about had simply…vanished. In typical bad horror movie fashion, Marcus slowly walked inside. As he moved towards the center of the room, taking care to step over the knocked over merchandise, he found his arm caught in some sort of invisible force. As he struggled, he soon found his entire body unable to move. 

“I’ve made a lot of money in my career so far.” It was true. Llama had a net worth of around $25 million, but that was nothing anybody in Wicked’s Rest needed to know. Of course, it’s not like it couldn’t be googled, but still. It was his comment about her looks that left her giving him a narrowed glare, “Uh huh. Well if we’re going off of looks and weapons knowledge, I’m gonna go military for you. And I, uh, mean that in a good way.” She may have looked like the epitome of young Hollywood in a small town, but Llama was pretty smart and observant when it came to people. However, online was a different story, considering her name was now Llama.

Though she was slightly offended, Llama let it go because they had bigger fish to fry, like whatever was lurking behind door number one. And with his proposal on the table of taking on a good deed for the day, she felt like she couldn’t turn back now, “You’re right. We didn’t fully commit to this or sign our lives away.” Her mind was starting to jump back to the term the two men had been using earlier, hunters. She definitely was no hunter, but she did have combat training from multiple credible sources. She could do this.

Llama made her way in slowly behind Marcus after he had opened the door. What little light there was had given way to all kinds of damage and scattered boxes, and she couldn’t help but grip her nunchucks a little tighter. However, as he moved deeper into the room, Llama found herself stopped and staring wide-eyed at what appeared to be a giant spider hanging from the ceiling with its 3845345934 eyes staring back at her, “Uh, Marcus…I think…I think we should…” She had started to slowly back up, readying herself to flee, “I think we should maybe cut our losses and just go somewhere else…”

Marcus couldn’t help but roll his eyes as his newly found partner’s warning came far too late. Sure, he thought to himself, NOW we’ll cut our losses and run. When I physically can’t. He struggled further against the webbing, but it pulled him back no matter how hard he tried. Frustrated, he looked up towards the ceiling, trying to see if there was anything hanging down that he could use to grab on and pull himself away. And that was when he saw it. 

A mountain of eyes, disturbingly large fangs, and eight long spindly legs covered in fine hairs. This wasn’t just any spider. This was Aragog on steroids, and Marcus soon began to realize he had become the creature’s prey. He struggled further, much more panicked now, but it was no use. Slowly, the creature moved its head towards him, all of its many eyes focused directly on him. He reached toward his waist to try and grab his newly acquired knife, but he couldn’t maneuver it out of its holder. 

Now Marcus had a good education, so he knew how spiders devoured their prey. First they sunk their fangs in and injected a paralytic venom into their victim. Then they inject an acid that dissolved their prey from the inside out. Seemed a bit counterintuitive towards actually eating their catch, but it was one way to make sure they were dead, and probably made their meal a lot easier to get down. That was about the extent of what he knew about them.

He didn’t exactly fancy being turned into soup, especially when he’d be alive for the souping part of it. Just great, he survived one brush with danger, only to meet an even worse fate. In an act of defiance, Marcus spat in the creature’s face. Human signals of disrespect and contempt apparently didn’t translate well to the arachnid world, as it simply reared its head back a little bit and wiped the spit off with one of its legs. It held the saliva up to its face and…sniffed it? Do spiders smell? He didn’t think they had noses. Whatever it was doing, it only afforded him a few moments of reprieve, and Marcus braced for the impact of its fangs.

When Llama realized Marcus wasn’t responding or coming, she paused. She could just leave. Run. Cut her losses. Be done with it. But what kind of person would that make her? A horrible one? An even worse one than she already was? But was she really even a person anymore? She ate brains. Her fiance’s brains. Other people’s brains. She was literally standing there having an existential crisis while Marcus was about to be made into spider food. “Dammit! I am not that kind of person! Fuck!”

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep, unneeded breath, Llama gathered her courage, and then the idea hit her. Her phone! The LED flashlights on those things were ridiculous, and she knew shining it at the bug would probably startle it! Hopefully! Pulling out her phone and turning it onto the brightest setting, she held the device up all while tightening her grip on the nunchucks still in her hand, “Marcus. Are you still alive?”

Llama moved closer and shined the light around, until she saw the creature once again, and this time her plan worked…almost. Once it laid eyes on her - about a thousand of them - it awkwardly lost its grip from where it was dangling and plopped down onto… “Marcus?!” Seeing its lumpy and weird shape springing back and forth in the tight, nearly invisible web it had weaved with her new spider combat buddy bouncing around with it, Llama didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or take a running swing at it! The latter it would be.

Letting out a war cry, the living dead actress held up the phone to guide her and started swinging her nunchucks ready to knock it off of her friend, but before she could, Llama came to a screeching halt as it and Marcus springed back in her direction much like a slingshot except the contents staying stuck, sending her to the ground and her phone and nunchucks flying off in another direction, “Oh sweet Nick Jonas don’t let it eat me! I’m too young to die again!”

Marcus watched his would-be savior fall to the ground, her weapons crashing helplessly across the other side of the room. Great, not only was he going to die, but he got somebody else killed too. What was that she said about dying again? People only died once, didn’t they? Unless…no. This woman was far too attractive (conventionally speaking) to be undead. Usually they had some evidence of decomposition, not unlike the creature on the beach. Then again, Marcus didn’t have much experience with undead beyond the occasional vampire hunting him down for his seal blood. 

Marcus still had his hand around the handle of his knife, the tips of his fingers barely able to reach. Carefully, Marcus rolled his fingers up along the handle, slowly bringing it up towards his hand so he could grip it more firmly. Awkwardly, he bent his wrist in a way that was just barely able to reach the webbing holding him in. He first cut the web holding his shoulder so he had more range of motion. This allowed him to make short work of the rest of the webbing while the giant spider was focused on Llama. 

Marcus attempted to sneak up and stab at the spider right at the top of its abdomen while it was still distracted. In spite of looking like a fairly new and well sharpened knife, attempting to stab the beast was like stabbing stone. His blade clanked uselessly against the armored exoskeleton and the opposing force knocked Marcus to the ground. Once again, the eight legged monster turned its many eyes to Marcus, creeping forward as it had before.  This was it, Marcus had his second chance and he blew it. 

Shaking his head, he decided this wouldn’t be the end. In a last ditch effort, he made a leaping strike towards the creature’s many eyes. If he could blind it, it would give him and Llama a chance to regroup and take down the monster. The only downside is the eyes were dangerously close to its monstrous fangs. Meaning, if Marcus wanted to fling his blade towards its eyes, he would have to move its body close to its fangs. The whole paralysis and liquefaction process played over again in his mind, and fear started to overtake him. 

He had decided he would rather go down fighting, protecting a newly found friend, than standing stock still and pissing himself in fear. With a great leap, Marcus lunged at the spider, being very  careful to keep his lower body tucked upwards as much as he could, like an olympic high jumper. He saw the blade enter into one of the beast’s many eyes, as green liquid squirted out from the wound. The beast let out a mighty yell as Marcus grabbed on and attempted to stab at its other eyes. Unfortunately, with one forceful shake, the beast knocked the knife out of Marcus’s hand, causing it to clatter uselessly across the floor. However, Marcus did keep his grip and remained more or less on top of the creature, almost making the scene look like some giant spider rodeo. 

Scrambling on all fours to the other side of the room to retrieve her phone and nunchucks, Llama paid no attention to what was going on behind her, until she heard the loud cry of the beast! Whatever Marcus had done to it had wounded it and just as she was about to retrieve her own weapon, she saw his knife come down from the sky as if a higher power was giving her an opportunity to strike.

Bending down, Llama scooped up the knife in her hands and quickly spun on her heels to see quite the sight. Marcus was being flung around like a cowboy trying to prove his worth in a horse arena. But maybe if he could keep a tight grip on it, the distraction would give her enough time to stab what appeared to be its meaty underbelly, “Keep it distracted, Marcus! I’m going for the gut!”

Llama narrowed her eyes in determination and waited for the right moment, before running to gain momentum and throwing her body down onto her hip to slide under the massive spider. Just as she had planned it, she ended up where she needed to be to shove the knife in it’s soft belly sending the pointy end through it’s skin, but she hadn’t anticipated just where her position would put her. As the creature let out another ear piercing screech, Llama felt its fangs sink into her own stomach injecting copious amounts of venom, before she lay motionless on the ground; the knife slipping from her grip and hitting the floor once more. It was up to Marcus now to take the huge-ass spider out.

He heard Llama call out for him to keep it distracted while she went for the gut. A brilliant idea, shouting out your strategy and giving your enemy a warning that you’re about to stab them. Marcus held on to the giant spider for dear life as it kicked around like a bucking bronco. He was starting to lose his grip, and was flung off. His body slid into a corner of the room, and he bonked his head on one of the shelves that was knocked to the ground. 

He sat back up just in time to see Llama stab the beast right before it sunk its giant fangs into her. He heard a cry from her and then watched her body go stiff and motionless. He couldn’t believe it. His sense of adventure had gotten an innocent albeit adventurous soul killed. He made a mad dash to the other side of the room, towards Llama’s body. The spider’s movements were clumsy and Marcus took advantage by slipping away from various lunges that it took at him. By the time he got to Llama’s body, he saw she was still alive, but unable to move. 

He picked his knife up from off the ground and stared the giant spider down. It was definitely weakened from the stab it had already taken, and this meant that its underbelly was its weak point. Marcus planted one foot on the ground, and pounded on his chest, as if daring the monster to charge. It was as if he were a matador trying to outmaneuver a particularly scary eight legged bull. 

The spider took the bait, and Marcus sidestepped its ungraceful attempt at a charge. It crashed, bashing its own head into the wall. It backed up, very clearly dazed, and Marcus took that opportunity to strike. Marcus slid in underneath the creature and took several more deep stabs at the beast. More screams, and more green liquid poured out of the creature. He could feel the beast’s incredible weight coming down on him, so he quickly got out from underneath it. He fled to the other side of the room as he watched the beast roll onto its back and curl its legs up towards the center of its abdomen, still bleeding, but no longer moving. He was satisfied it was finally defeated. 

He then looked back towards the center of the room, at the unmoving body of his partner in crime. He was hoping for any signs of life from her. 

“Llama! Llama are you okay? Talk to me!”

Llama could feel herself fading. Her body was rigid as the venom absorbed itself into her stagnant blood stream, but ironically, she could feel an overly alarming rate of heartache. It was like losing Brody all over again, and while it wasn’t quite as bad, it was close. But it was taking longer for the deep puncture wounds to heal and there was an odd warmth around her midsection. The venom was trying to work, but it wasn’t having any success as her blood wasn’t spreading the poison like it should have. However, she could still hear the commotion going on around her. Muffled at times as she faded in and out, until she heard her name being called.

She softly groaned as the warmth was beginning to fade and the fang wounds were slowly starting to close up, but she could feel her appetite growing. It wasn’t to the extent of the firework incident and she wasn’t losing her mind quite like she was afraid of, but Llama knew if she didn’t feed soon Marcus and the owner of the store would both be in trouble.

“Marcus…” Her eyes barely opened as if there was weight resting on them as she scanned the dark room for any sign of the spider. Seeing a large folded up lump, Llama started to recognize what it was, “Did you kill it? Is it over?” She could feel her muscles loosening up and relaxing meaning she would have range of motion back soon. Already in the short amount of time she had been in Wicked’s Rest, she had started to feel like Kenny from South Park. Was this what it meant to be a zombie? Was she the universe’s own personal Barbie doll to throw around and abuse? If she was, she didn’t like it.

Marcus was very relieved to see his new friend had miraculously survived. In fact, it seemed as though she was recovering remarkably fast. 

“Yeah, we got it. It’s all over, thanks to you. Just stay where you are, I’ll call for help. That bum ass shop owner isn’t going to be much use so I’ll get an ambulance for you.” 

“Hey now, I’m no bum!” Marcus heard the shop owner behind him, turning to face the man who sent them both to their deaths. “We made an agreement, and here we are. One dead spider, and you all get to walk out with your weapons.”

Marcus was incensed by this attitude. He grabbed the shopkeep by the collar and dragged him over to Llama’s body. “Does it look like she’s going to be doing much walking? She needs to get to a hospital man, STAT”. 

“Well then you’d better call an ambulance instead of yelling at me! Take your wares and kindly leave whatever way you see fit. But I think I’ll stick with a hunter service from now on, they’re much neater about it”. 

He wanted to punch him. Slam his fist right into his face. But right now, his friend needed him. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out and losing sight of her. In a huff, he turned around and began to dial 911.

Llama let out a soft sigh knowing it was over. They had killed the first, and hopefully last, giant spider. This town was really starting to get under her skin and not in a good way. First the discovery of mares, then being shot with fireworks, and her name being stolen, and now this?! And she couldn’t forget Nora. That child was like the walking epitome of a nightmare. But somehow throughout all of it, she was starting to make friends, especially right here and right now.

Letting her eyes drift over to the confrontation that was happening, she watched as her new friend stuck up for her well being. She definitely wouldn’t be shopping here again. That was for sure, but it soon hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn’t go to the hospital. She’d be found out. Instead, Llama slowly forced herself up onto her elbows. It was like the weight of the world was hanging over her and trying to push her back down, but she had to keep her secret safe, “Marcus, stop.”

She looked towards him with sad pleading eyes. If her heart could race, it would. Llama was about to reveal one of the biggest secrets of her life to a complete stranger, but somehow she felt safe around him. They did just fight and survive a giant arachnid after all, “There’s something I have to tell you…”

Marcus’s thumb paused before it hit the last “1” on his phone screen. Stop? Why did she want him to stop? He stole a glance over at the shopkeep and gave him a look that told him to give them some space. Thankfully, the shopkeep put up his hands in surrender and left to give the two a private space to talk. 

“What do you have to tell me? I mean whatever it is I’m sure it can wait. You’re really not looking well and need some kind of medical attention. Just stay down and try not to exert yourself too much.” 

He had seen people like her before in the field. People hit with artillery shells, incendiary flares, bullets. Pale, weak, shaking, looking completely on the verge of death. He’d call them walking corpses, but usually they crawled. Just Llama, still on the ground, on death’s door. What could be so important that she’d tell him to wait to call an ambulance?

This was either going to go really good or really bad. She had never told anyone before. Well aside from her assistant, Taylor. And it wasn’t like she really had a choice then either. As for Mateo, he just sort of found out on his own. But if Marcus had dialed the last ‘1’ and the paramedics came and started to work on her… “They’re not going to find a heartbeat. If you call 911 and they come, they’re not going to find a heartbeat.” Llama paused for a moment, “I’m already dead, Marcus. I died about two years ago doing a stunt for a TV show I was working on at the time.”

It felt so strange saying it outloud to someone she really didn’t know. At least Taylor had truly known Mackenzie. Not Llama, but Mackenzie. There was a chance this guy could blab it to the world, but it was too late now. He already knew, “I guess, the technical term is zombie? I still don’t really understand all of this, and don’t really know if I want to believe it’s real, even though I guess it is…” An evening of laughter, excitement, and even fun, had turned into something nerve-wracking, but in a weird way, cathartic. At least in the moment. She would probably regret it later, when she was back home alone sitting with her thoughts all night while some stupid show was the only source of light flashing off the walls in her huge empty and lonely house.

Groaning as she struggled to sit all the way up, Llama kept her eyes on Marcus, “Look I understand if you don’t want to be my friend after this. I’ve done stuff I’m not proud of since this happened and the only thing I could think to do was run from my problems. I’m not a good person, I know that. But tonight was, for lack of a better word, fun, and the first time I haven’t really felt so alone since being here.” There had been other times, sure, but this just felt different, especially considering she wanted him to know what she was, “But this took a lot out of me, and if I don’t eat something soon, I’m afraid of what might happen, so if you want to leave, then it’s not going to hurt my feelings. I just want you to be safe. Even that asshole shop owner who almost got us killed.”

Marcus had thought there was more than what meets the eye to this woman. After all, her fighting skills and remarkable durability seemed a bit out of place to him. He thought it was odd that a famous actress could die during a stunt without it being a huge media story, but then again he didn’t follow pop culture news very closely. For all he knew, her face was all over every major media outlet and he was none the wiser. 

Still, a zombie? He couldn’t say he’d ever met a zombie, or even knew them to actually exist. It came as a major shock to Marcus, but one thing he didn’t feel was fear. They had just taken down a horrific beast together and managed to walk away. She had her chance to either let him die or take him out at multiple different points, but she didn’t. Instead, she saved his life. There’s no way he’d run away from her now. 

“This is a lot to take in, Llama. I’ve also never heard of any actresses named Llama so I must have missed the memo about you being dead. But look at you, you saved my life. You helped me take down that…thing in the corner over there.” he said, pointing at the giant carcass. “You could probably eat that, right? Either way, I don’t want to walk out on you here. I really appreciate you telling me all of this actually. And if you do want to munch on some people, I’m hoping you’ll take care of the shop owner before me. But uh…start with the spider first and see how you feel”.

“Oh, and by the way. You’re not the only one with a secret.” With that, Marcus held up his pelt, currently on loan from William. “I’m a selkie. Or…a seal person if you’re unfamiliar. I’d transform and show you, but there isn’t any water here so I’d just kind of flop around like an idiot. There are a lot of folks around here who are more than they say they are.”

She sat quietly waiting for his reaction. It had taken a lot for her to come clean. Her entire undead life was at stake, including her career, friends back home, and even her family. And while she couldn’t help but let her mind go to the negative side of things, Marcus had really surprised her, “You’re not mad or afraid?” Llama’s expression softened, and she let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Marcus. You don’t know how much this means. And my name…it’s not really Llama according to the entire internet and half the world apparently. Some weird guy supposedly took it? I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out how to get it back, but if you want to go by everyone else, my name, according to them, is Mackenzie.”

Llama laughed softly at the comment about the owner, “As much as I want to right now…it’s probably best that I do…eat the spider instead.” Regardless of whether or not she had a gag reflex, the young actress shuddered at the thought of consuming the eight legged corpse lying just over in the corner. Luckily, she got a few more minutes of not having to consume Mr. Harry Legs when Marcus had surprisingly admitted a secret of his own.

Just like him, she was shocked. She had never heard of seal people before. Llama had always loved looking at the seals down near the water back home in California, but the fact that humans could actually change into seals was amazing. She let her eyes shift from him to the pelt he was holding, “So do those come in like designer brands or is it a sort of one style fits all?” She had to lighten the mood a little, especially after the last thing he said. “Wow, so this town really is haunted.” She looked away from him, before returning her eyes to him along with a solemn expression, “I promise to keep your secret, but in return can you please keep mine? If this gets out, I’m done. My entire life, or whatever it is now, will seriously be over.” She just wanted to know that he would stay quiet, at least before attempting to down the giant spider.

Marcus was, if nothing else, a man of his word. After all, it wasn’t like he stood to gain anything from revealing her secret. He was actually quite relieved that she met his confession with the same level of acceptance with which he met hers. She seemed more curious than anything. 

“You have my word, Mackenzie, or whatever your name may be. You’ve got a lot left to learn still about this town, it would seem.”

It would make sense that someone new to all things paranormal wouldn’t know about fae and their tendency to steal names. He’d have to give her some pointers on how not to get tricked by them. They were a crafty bunch, and even he found himself fooled every now and then. Of course, they fooled him for survival purposes, trying to keep their magic secured. They fool poor unsuspecting folks like Mackenzie for the sake of…you know now that he thought of it he wasn’t really sure. 

“These are kind of a ‘one pelt for one selkie’ kind of deal. Each one is tailored specifically for its owner, although that’s not to say other selkies can’t use pelts that belong to different people. It’s just heavily frowned upon.”

He smiled down at her, sensing her relief. 

“Again, I will never share your secret. And all I ask is you do the same for mine. I have a lot of potential enemies out here if they knew what I really was.”

So they were in agreement. These two misfits who just happened upon a strange town and met out of pure fate. Maybe it was something higher pulling them together or maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever it was, Llama wasn’t complaining, “Thank you. So fucking much.” She snorted softly, “Yeah, just a little bit.”

His explanation about the pelts made sense. It had to have been like slipping on the perfect leather jacket that felt made just for you, and as he had previously mentioned, she did have a lot to learn, including the different rules and ways of life about other creatures who weren’t zombies. Hell, Llama still had a lot to learn about herself, but she was about to discover one thing…could she handle eating a spider carcass?

“I promise. If it’s one thing you have to be good at, working in Hollywood, it’s keeping a secret. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a spider to choke down.”

Still weak and body feeling heavier than normal, Llama scooted across the floor over to the oozing, dead spider. It was another instance where she was grateful her senses were mostly dulled, especially because she was pretty sure the green ooze leaking from the creature probably smelled like ass. But with each passing moment of hesitation came the longing to feed and the possibility of becoming a threat to Marcus.

“Fuck. Okay.”

Grabbing one of the legs, Llama lifted it up to her mouth and took a huge bite. It was a little tough at first gnawing through the exoskeleton and its leg hairs kind of tickled in an odd way, but her zombie instincts soon took over and before long she was elbow deep in spider belly surprisingly enjoying herself and even the green goo that had once left her lying motionless on the floor.

From what started out as a night of obsessing over a katana turned out to be one of the most valuable days spent in Wicked’s Rest and knowing Marcus was now by her side, despite watching her consume one of the grossest things she’d ever encounter, Llama had an odd feeling that everything was going to be okay. But it totally could have just been the leg whiskers tickling her throat as they went down. 

[mortemoppetere]

[Emilio receives a mysterious box containing a pocket knife engraved with a seascape, complete with a lighthouse and everything. The note attached reads as follows]

“Hey dude, 

I know we don’t really talk much outside of our random life threatening night time encounters, but you did kinda save my life so I figured I should get you something as a token of appreciation this Christmas. I know you like knives, or at least work with them, so here’s one that I think represents me pretty well! Hopefully you get some use out of it. Hope to meet you again under less scary circumstances someday. 

-Marcus" 

Emilio does, in fact, both like and work with knives! Odds of meeting him under less scary circumstances someday are probably slim, tho. He loves scary circumstances. They make him happy! Sorry, Marcus :/

[profoundlydaphne]

[…] Do you know what the wobble is? As you know, just a follow up! Haha. I’ve heard of the Dougie, though! Haven’t seen anyone do that in ages. But consider: you could be old and hip in peace. The best of both worlds!

The "Wormy"? When I was younger we had the Dougie, maybe it's like that? But...wormier? I stopped trying to keep up with trends like that a while ago. I prefer to be old in peace.

[thenavysealkie]

PSA: If you think just because it's night time that people aren't going to see you skinny dipping, you're sadly mistaken. There are lighthouses. With big ass search lights on them. And I'm the one who has to see all that. A lot of you could use some cardio.

[eliaskahtri]

@thenavysealkie replied to your post “[pm] Hey, thanks again for dinner, it was great!...”:

[pm] Hey man, I've never met a level of spice I can't handle...until tonight. I'll probably be fine though. Regan, huh? Well if she's your friend then she's probably cool. Just has a habit of asking really weird questions I guess. Did you tell her about the seal thing?

​[pm] [User doubts this.] Alright, if you insist. Let me know if you need me to bring over a gallon of milk and some Pepto.

Yeah, Regan. She means well. She's just a little verbally diverse. [User panics.] I didn't [...] tell her outright. I told her there was someone, but I didn't... that's my bad. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. That's on me. [User waits to be told to get lost.]

[mortemoppetere]

WICKED'S REST as FANTASY

( featuring: @nightmaretist, @eldritchaccident, @chasseurdeloup, @thenavysealkie, & @alan-duarte )

[deathsplaything]

You have other senses that can be used. Don't fear them, embrace them. Also, take care of your eyes. Unless someone is making them fly. That's my working theory, anyway.

I guess I do rely a little too much on my eyes, eh? Can't say I've ever listened for the sound a squirrel makes. You'd think if we had flying squirrels they'd know how to control their flight paths a little better. Unless of course, it was aiming for your face. Not completely out of the question.

[thunderstroked]

A Selkie and a Gumiho Walk Into a... || Mona & Marcus

TIMING: current-ish. LOCATION: harborside, near marcus's lighthouse. PARTIES: @thenavysealkie & @thunderstroked SUMMARY: marcus sees something suspicious. mona is just trying to eat her fries. CONTENT: none!

Maybe Harborside wasn’t the best place for an electrically charged fox, but that didn’t stop her from visiting the coast. Growing up in Busan, and then later on moving to Dublin, Mona had become used to the water. The ocean had a calming aspect to it– one that, at most times, felt more welcoming than the dense copse of trees falling on the side of a highway, or up a mountain pass. She wasn’t naive enough to believe it could be her permanent reality given what she was capable of, but it didn’t stop her from admiring the way that the waves rolled over the shoreline. Today, however, she found regret in her adventure. 

The chips she held onto tightly were being terrorized by the seagulls flying above her head. When one would dive, another would swoop, and she would hover over the styrofoam box, swatting above her head, hopeful that the birds would leave her alone. To no avail, they continued their attacks. They were normal seagulls as far as she could tell– nothing too odd about them. But they wanted her fries, and that was enough to piss her off. “Can you just fuck off?!” She swatted her hand again, catching the leg of one of the gulls, sending it in an awkward spin towards the ground, but it caught itself at the last moment, circling back around to try and grab at the paper lining. “Enough!” Mona shouted, a blue orb materializing out of thin air from her opened hand. It shot across the short distance to the bird, making it fall into the ground in a heap of charred feathers. She stared down at it, wrinkling her nose. It took her a moment to realize she was not alone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and not the foamy kind. 

It was mid afternoon and Marcus was doing his usual rounds. As the weather grew colder, there was less foot traffic on the beaches and therefore less litter. However, he still remained vigilant, not wanting even a single marine creature to be harmed by any garbage he could have picked up. After all, he knew first hand how terrifying it was to swim head first into a massive garbage pit. 

He saw a group of gulls circling overhead, and wondered what they must all be convening by. Then he heard it, a woman’s voice. And she didn’t seem particularly pleased with the birds circling overhead, either. He heard her shout as multiple seagulls started dive bombing her. As he got closer, he saw that she was holding what he presumed to be a bag of chips or fries. He knew firsthand how relentless they could be once they spotted some food, and he hoped she could make it inside somewhere without too much more harassment from the birds. 

Then…the unexpected happened. 

A crack of lightning, and the smell of burning soon filled the air. One of the birds lay in a pile of burned plumage in the sand, as if some sort of vengeful god had smited the creature right out of the sky. But Marcus didn’t believe in that sort of thing, the reality he knew to be true was already far too strange. He moved closer and shifted his eyes over to the woman. 

“Well uh…that’s one way to get the gulls to back off” he said awkwardly, knowing he had been spotted.

Mona nearly jumped out of her skin as the voice came near. She turned around, sizing up her company. They were significantly taller than herself, but that didn’t matter much. She wasn’t a fight first kind of girl, and she hoped she could maintain some kind of composure regarding the situation, or at least fake it. 

“I’m not a killer, but he was asking for it.” She looked down at the charred bird and frowned. “Circle of life, right?” Not so much, Monathought, but she felt confident in her decision to strike the bird down. Maybe it’d teach its friends to not fuck around and find out. 

Inhaling sharply, she popped another fry into her mouth and began to chew thoughtfully as she looked the person across from her up and down. “Where did you come from?” Water droplets formed on his arms and face, and behind him she could see something odd– like a heap of clothing, but it wasn’t clothing at all. It wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before. 

“The water?” She sniffed at the air, the smell of salt water and brine filling her nose. 

Marcus didn’t especially appreciate this woman’s blatant disregard for life. After all, how would she feel if someone came up and zapped her just for trying to eat? But he had to sympathize at least a little bit, those damn birds could get real annoying real fast. 

“Not like you killed a person, I’m more concerned about the murder weapon though” he said, pointing to the woman’s hand. “Circle of life…” Marcus pondered, “I’m guessing that means you intend to eat the bird? Seems a bit burnt to me, but to each their own”. Much of this town was beyond what any person would deem normal. A person shooting lightning out of their hands didn’t even crack the top 10 of weirdest shit he’s witnessed. But that did mean the woman had some degree of magic, which he was hoping to possibly subtly sap away if he got the chance. 

“I was just out for my morning swim,” Marcus said, taking an immediately more defensive tone. She seemed a bit suspicious of him, but figured she couldn’t come to any supernatural conclusion yet. After all, it’s not like she watched him change forms. It certainly wasn’t as if she saw actual lightning fly out of his hand, like what he witnessed with her. 

She was eyeing his pelt. Did she know what it was? Maybe she’d think it was just some weird looking swimsuit? He didn’t know whether to hide it or act nonchalant, he definitely didn’t want to make her think it was anything out of the ordinary. But it looked exactly like what it was, a seal pelt. How many people casually carried those around at the beach?

“Let’s get off of what I’m doing here, though. Do you want to explain the little lightshow you just put on?”

Mona quirked a brow at his words. She wasn’t sure why it mattered. Weren’t seagulls an invasive species? Wasn’t she helping the community? The earth? Probably not. She really didn’t know, and she really didn’t care. It was a bird, and there’d be dozens more where it came from. She looked down at the charred gull, considering what it’d taste like. She’d figure that out later, if her company really insisted upon it. 

“Not so much a murder weapon as it is a form of protection.” There was something off about the person standing across from her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “But to each their own.” Mona mirrored his words, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

She looked past him to the water. The temperature had dropped considerably over the weeks, and she could only imagine the freezing quality of the water. “In October? You’re not doing… what do they call it– the polar plunge?” She had a friend in Dublin who had participated in something like that in the middle of November. It was odd to watch. 

He looked behind him towards something– the something on the ground. So it was important. She didn’t really care, not really. Mostly, she was annoyed that she’d been stopped. The question popped up again – 

Do you want to explain the little lightshow you just put on?

Mona shrugged. The foxfire was a part of her, it was easy to explain, but to somebody who seemed a little too interested– that could mean danger. 

“Static electricity?” Mona offered with a coy smile, popping another fry into her mouth. She wiped her hand off on the side of her pants. “Why does it matter? What would you want with it?” Because that was the angle here, wasn’t it? 

As the woman in front of him explained her powers were only for protection, Marcus gave a slow nod. “Those beaks can be pretty sharp, I can see why you found it necessary to protect yourself.” he remarked, a bit condescendingly. 

“Just don’t see that kind of thing every day, that’s all. I actually think it’s pretty cool, being able to bend lightning completely at will like that”, he offered, daring her to say outright that she had lightning powers. 

“You’ve never heard of cold water swims?” He offered weakly, knowing no human would have the layer of protection his blubber offered him to keep them warm or even alive for long in freezing waters. He’d have to be a bit more careful about timing his swims in the future so nobody would catch him coming back from the water. And randomly approaching lightning benders probably didn’t help keep things low key, either. He took a step to the side, using his body to block the woman’s view a little more.

While Marcus didn’t particularly relish in his need to sap magic, William was no longer recharging the pelt for him. He had to find his own victims, as much as he disliked causing any harm to people. He thought back to what the woman had said just a few moments ago. Circle of life. He supposed he was no different after all. 

“If you could come a little closer, maybe you could display your gifts a little more in detail for me. After all, it’s not every day you get a performance that’s so electrifying”. 

He had to admit, he sucked at this whole “lying” thing. He’d have to get better, for his own sake. In the meantime, he hoped his natural charm and good looks would compensate for the actual words that left his mouth.  

Mona rolled her eyes at his comment. “I was protecting my food.” She thought about bringing up the invasive species bit again, but what if this guy was some kind of science geek? Then she’d have to explain she was stupid, and she refused to do that. For right now, at least. Maybe she’d play the dumb girl card if she needed to. 

As he spoke, Mona felt discomfort shoot through the scarring that elongated from her neck down her arm and shoulder. “It’s a little different than that.” Wasn’t so much lightning as it was something within her– a power she held and that was deeply rooted to her core. She didn’t expect this person to understand, especially if they were human. So far, there wasn’t anything indicating that they weren’t. 

“So it is like the polar plunge, then.” She nodded as if it made the most sense in the world. Of course people would do something as stupid as that. She didn’t understand why somebody would want to be uncomfortable. She wasn’t lavish by any means, but she sure as hell didn’t go out of her way to crawl into tight spaces for the sake of some record. Mona barely noticed the side-step he made in an effort to block her view. She was too concerned with what he had seen and what he thought of it. 

She wasn’t sure what he was trying to benefit from in seeing her abilities. She’d meant to send out an orb, but her abilities had their own way and sent a zap instead. It’d been her fault and she knew that, using them where others could have seen, but she hadn’t seen him. That was the problem. Mona ate another fry. “Is that some kind of…” Her brows furrowed as she tried to remember the term, “are you hitting on me? I am trying to enjoy my fries, and I’m sorry, but you’re not my type. I’m incredibly gay. Do you have a sister? Maybe we could hit it off and she could tell you what she saw and relay it back to you.” She popped another fry into her mouth. 

This woman was hiding something, Marcus was sure of that. And it was something more than just her strange lightning power. He found it awfully bold of her to be playing coy after he literally saw lightning shoot from her hand like she was fucking Raiden from Mortal Kombat. Then again, it wasn’t as if he was trying to play the whole “out of sight out of mind” game with his pelt, so he had a bit of secretiveness of his own. 

“A little different? I’d love for you to explain it then.” He was genuinely curious how the abilities worked, as he felt he never stopped seeing new things in this town. He had met all sorts of creatures, but a real life lightning bender was something different entirely. If it wasn’t the type of magic he could steal, he could at least walk away from the encounter with a very interesting story to tell. Not that he was low on stories from this town. 

“You could call it…something like that. It helps open up your pores, it’s supposed to keep your skin from wrinkling. Gotta keep up these looks somehow”, he finished with an awkward shrug. He decided not to try and make up any further explanation, figuring the less he said the better off he would be. 

The woman’s rejection was actually a bit welcome for Marcus, even though he was still a bit offended by it. Normally he was used to women throwing themselves at him and he would always have to be the one to drop the “I’m gay” bomb. This was a refreshing change of pace for him. 

He chuckled a bit and said “No, not a come on at all. In fact, I’m also incredibly gay. And while I’d love to tell you I have a sister to set you up with, sadly I’m an only child. But maybe you have a brother?” he added, with a raised eyebrow. At this point, he was getting a tad sidetracked from the woman’s magic, but was starting to genuinely enjoy the company. He was also starting to relax a bit to the point where he stepped to the side a bit, enough to where his pelt came back into the woman’s line of sight. 

The smell of the sea was too strong to discern any other scents. Mona did her best to appear unbothered by his request, but there were some faults in her expression as she ate another fry. Soon enough, they’d be gone and she’d actually need to speak. “What kind of explanation do you want? You believe in what you saw then, right?” She tilted her head to the side, gaze fixed on the space just behind him. Maybe he was hiding something from her. What could he possibly be hiding? Her mind ran through the possibilities. 

As he explained the benefits of icy baths, Mona hummed under her breath. She knew some of those things to be true, but whether or not he was being truthful in telling her about them was a whole other thing. “That’s funny. It comes easy to me.” The being beautiful part, she didn’t bother to add. He’d figure it out, or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t her problem. 

Mona picked up a fry, jutting it through the air at him. An expression of understanding peeled across her features as she nodded. “This somehow makes more sense.” It was a wonder he hadn’t tried to use his looks in order to get more information out of her on what he’d seen. Instead, he was asking bluntly. She scrunched up her nose. “I do, but I’m afraid they’re miles away from here, and we’re not really speaking at the moment.” Another fry into her mouth and she was closing the lid on the styrofoam box. He took a step to the side and on the ground was the unmistakable heap of something. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen before, but at the same time, it was familiar. She couldn’t put a finger on it. 

It was clear he was trying to hide it from her. She pointed at it. “I’ll tell you my lightning stuff if you tell me what you’re hiding.” 

Marcus had to admit, this woman was very confident. Even more so than he was, and that was saying something. Although he did have to admit, her habit of popping a seemingly endless supply of fries into her mouth while she spoke to him was starting to grate on his nerves a bit. Hadn’t anyone taught this young lady any manners? 

“I believe in what I saw, yes. What I saw defies standard ‘logic’.”

“A pity, then. Maybe a decent looking cousin? Honestly I’m not too picky”, he added. While he longed for a companion that actually cared for him, long distance just wasn’t something that could work out. His many attempts during his service years were a testament to this. 

With a sigh, he looked down at his pelt, now revealed to the woman’s line of sight. He had let his guard down again, something he was wont to do when he was engaged in a good conversation. Had it been intentional? Or was it merely a byproduct of a genuine conversation between two curious minds. Marcus decided to reveal who he was, hoping honesty would be met with honesty. After all, there weren’t many rangers in the world with lightning powers, so he figured his life would be safe. Besides, any hunter worth their salt would have immediately recognized his pelt and flash fried him by now. 

“I think it’s clear both of us are more than what we seem. I’ll tell you what this is, but you have to promise not to tell another soul about it. There are some baaaad people in this town that can hurt me if they find out what I really am.”

Without speaking any further, Marcus took a deep breath, walked to the ocean’s edge and donned his pelt. Instantly, he could feel his body contour and bloat out. His now sausage shaped body flopped along the sand before reaching the water. He chanced a curious look back at the woman to try and gauge her reaction

Mona scrunched her nose. She had to admit, his humor was decidedly less on the side of annoying, and more something she could fill her day with– the back and forth banter, for one, was something she always enjoyed, especially with people whose names she didn’t know. “No cousins, but I’ve made a few friends who might seem your type.” She crossed her arms over her chest, gaze wandering to the heap behind him again. It was an odd thing, and it was out of place, she realized. She couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed like he cared about it, or at least cared about keeping it out of view. 

He continued speaking, and the word promise hung in the air. She narrowed her eyes. He didn’t give off fae, but that didn’t mean anything to her, especially considering she couldn’t sense them in the slightest. He could be a nereid for all she knew. “And you don’t think they could hurt me, too? We’re on the same team here.” For now, at least, she didn’t bother to amend. 

Before she could say much else, he was retreating to the heap of – what was it, a jacket? Mona watched in astonishment as the man pulled the fabric over his body, and before her very eyes, the human in front of her was replaced by a… seal? She stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, before she was lifting the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing at them. “I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He had disappeared and been replaced by what, a seal? Could nereids do that? She wasn’t so sure. From her understanding, they only took some likeness from their cause, not full fledged identities. 

“So you’re….” She didn’t know the name, “what are you?” 

As the question was posed, Marcus could only bark in response, lifting his body upwards in the process. He made his way back to land and shifted back into his human form, assuming he had gotten his point across. 

“Selkie. Seal man. People have a few different names for us. The long and short of it is, I’m a shapeshifter. This pelt,” he gestured, holding his pelt up for Mona to finally get a better look at “allows me to change into my seal form. My true form.” 

He allowed a moment to pass for her to absorb his words. Even other people familiar with the supernatural had rarely heard of selkies before, so he figured it’d be best to give a more basic explanation. 

“The pelts themselves…” he began, but decided against discussing the value of his pelts. Even if she wasn’t a hunter, she may know one that she could work with “they make me a target for some of the more…seedier people in town. So I don’t like revealing myself to everyone. But anyway, that’s my secret. Any particular reason you can toss around lightning like a Greek god?” 

Mona couldn’t help but laugh at his explanation. “A– you’re a what?” It seemed silly, for a kitsune to mock that of another shifter’s existence, but it wasn’t so much mocking as it was just pure disbelief. She wasn’t sure what a selkie was, even if she had heard of them. Most of the time, she waved off the explanation. How did it make sense that a person could put something on, like a costume, and exist in that form? Everything else– there was a means of changing your body for it. Though, she supposed in the way that he had done so, there was truth to that, even if it wasn’t… as it was with her, or other shifters. 

She looked towards the pelt in his hand, brows furrowed. She had questions, even if she wasn’t quite sure she believed what she was seeing. 

He was talking about his pelt and how it made him a target and she couldn’t begin to wonder why he would carry it around so freely. Was it a connection to the water? She didn’t know of shifters having any special connection to anything like that. Even with her fire and lightning abilities, she didn’t feel particularly in tune with it, not in the way that a fae might describe. 

Inhaling sharply, Mona kept her gaze on the pelt. “Uh, yeah, I’m a kitsune– wait, so you just put that on? Were you born in it? Did you like, come out of it like a cocoon?” She looked up to meet his gaze. “Can I touch it?” 

The mention of kitsune piqued Marcus’s curiosity. He had seen sirens, at least the aggressively territorial ones from back home. He had also seen werewolves and encountered pretty much every type of fae under the sun. However, he had only heard of kitsune in passing. Truthfully, he knew essentially nothing about them other than that they were described as “fox people”. 

“Kitsune, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever met anybody of your kind. It’s nice to meet you”, he said, trying to keep his calm. He had no knowledge if kitsune and selkies were, historically speaking, on good terms with one another. Of course, he knew that didn’t mean much. He had fought with the sirens his kind were supposedly allied with, and he had also befriended werewolves and even some fae, who his kind are supposed to be at odds with. 

“I was technically born with this,” he began, holding up his pelt for Mona to see. “But I couldn’t use it right away. I had to grow up and mature to learn how to use it. Most of my early childhood I was raised as just a regular human being. Once I was ready, I needed to learn how to charge the pelt with magic so that it would allow me to “merge” with it, if that makes sense. See, the pelt kinda works like a second skin almost. Only, instead of skin, it’s my entire body that changes to fit the pelt.” 

He had always been raised to be fiercely protective of his pelt, and he had only recently gotten shared custody of his pelt back after having it stolen already. While he wanted to build good will with his new friend, he didn’t want to risk losing it again. He knew now not to let his guard down again. 

“You can look, but it’s probably best if you don’t touch it. There’s a lot of energy running through here and I don’t know if it’ll react and hurt you if you’re not its usual owner. These things almost seem to have a mind of their own, sometimes.”

He then held the pelt out further and moved closer to Mona so that she could get a better look. He kept his grip tight, not wanting her to make a quick grab and run off with it. 

“No, my name is Mona.” It occurred to her then that he was talking about what she was– she was far too distracted by the pelt in front of her to put much thought into their actual conversation now. Mona cleared her throat, gaze leveling with his. “But sure, it’s nice to meet you too, Selkie.” The name was reminiscent of something she’d definitely heard in passing, but not something she ever thought twice of. She thought they were something of folklore, but others would say the same of her, so who was she to minimize this person’s existence? 

As he explained what the pelt did, or rather– how he used it, Monafound herself way more confused. It still made no sense, how somebody could be born something and have to learn how to use it. It wasn’t like her fox fire or lightning– this was very different. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Half of what he spoke of seemed like lies, and most of it was so outlandish that Mona decided it had to be true. “So you weren’t born as that, and you had to use magic– you have magic?” The world was full of surprises. She arched a brow, gaze locked on the pelt, as if she were to look away, it might vanish into thin air. 

Mona frowned slightly as he told her she couldn’t touch it. Then again, how would she feel if he tried to make off with her hoshi no tama? She could relate, in a sense. The pelt was important to him, even if she couldn’t quite understand how it worked. “Did you always know you were a selkie, then? Did your parents just spring it on you?” She’d always known she was a gumiho, she’d been raised as such, so the idea that this person might not know they were a shifter until they were ready was so confusing. “I don’t really understand it, if I’m being honest, but that doesn’t mean I’m doubting you.” Okay, so maybe a little bit. Mona crossed her arms over her chest and continued staring at the pelt, “can anyone be a selkie? Or is it just specific people? Could a human use this?” Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his for verification of her question.

“My apologies, Mona. Very rude that I didn’t even introduce myself properly. My name is Marcus, not selkie.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to her next question. The pelt had magic, certainly. It just wasn’t his magic, per se. “I always knew I came from a long line of seal people. My mother taught me early on how she manages her powers and cared for her pelt and that I would have to do the same one day. My first time transforming was…difficult. But the body gets used to it after so many times. As for the magic…” He took a pause. Clearly the woman he was speaking to had some degree of magic, and may not be keen on him having to steal magic to keep his pelt charged. She may even be fearful that he’d try to steal magic from her. Of course, that was originally the idea he had in approaching her, but she didn’t need to know that. “It’s borrowed from other sources. A little bit from a meddlesome fae playing tricks on people or a spellcaster setting fires serves to feed my pelt and keep the town safe all at the same time.” 

While he did try to steal from those who deserved it, he did end up stealing from the innocent and unsuspecting more often than not. Those who were more mischievous and threatening with their powers tended to guard their magic much more effectively. 

“Others can steal the pelt and drain its magic, which is part of why they fetch a high price. Some can even use it to restore the powers to a magic user who had theirs stolen before. But only another selkie can wear the pelt and transform into a seal. Well, you can also turn into something similar like a sea lion or walrus, but the seal appearance is the more “traditional” appearance.” He thought back on William and how desperate he must have been to track him down and steal his pelt just to restore his own powers. Marcus also remembered how desperate he was when he was without his pelt for nearly 3 months. 

“The highest profits come from other selkies, actually. Those who have lost their pelts or had theirs stolen. Those who are in the peak of their withdrawals. You see, our seal form is almost like our true selves. And without it, there are a lot of physical and mental drawbacks. We can even die if left without our pelts for too long. Unfortunately, thefts and damages to pelts from hunters has lead to a great deal of infighting and mistrust amongst other selkies. Not enough pelts to keep everyone alive, basically.” 

He had probably gone a bit too in depth, but if Mona wanted information he figured he may as well give it to her. He also wanted to keep talking so that they could skirt over the “stealing magic” topic as smoothly as possible. 

“Mona and Marcus, M&M, we could be best pals, you know.” Besties, if Monabelieved any of what he was actually saying. She still couldn’t believe it, but the proof was right in front of her, and she knew she had to believe it because a shifter was a shifter, no matter how you spun it. Even if lamias were created out of a curse in their bloodline, at the very least they didn’t have to put something on. It still felt like a mockery, and Mona wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

Marcus continued to explain and Mona stayed silent, doing her best to piece it all together. She couldn’t remember her parents ever discussing selkies, but then again, they hadn’t had much to discuss with her anyway. Her friends back in Ireland, however– they seemed far more knowledgeable with this stuff. Mona wondered if Inge knew what selkies were and made a mental note to ask. Maybe Felix knew a thing or two, as well. She could ask them questions instead of being invasive. Then again, that never really stopped her from asking the questions she had. 

Though, the mention of magic seemed to put Marcus on pause. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was a sacred thing, something like her hoshi no tama. But then he was explaining he didn’t have magic, and that it was both fae or spellcaster magic that kept his pelt charged? It was all so weird. In her seventy something years, she’d never heard anything like it. It wasn’t like she was refusing the story or the history that Marcus brought to the table, but she was having a hard time digesting the idea that somebody could just try something on and recharge it with magic that wasn’t even theirs to begin with. 

She had so many questions, but she tried to do her best to let Marcus speak. What was the use in interrupting him? Especially when she had no idea on where to start and with what questions. “So it’s… gatekeeping you, sort of.” She wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but she had heard it used a time or two, “or gaslighting–?” A puzzled expression peeled over her features and she shook her head, tucking her hair behind both her ears before her hands came to rest around either side of her neck. “I believe you and I don’t, but only because it’s so different than anything… and the magic bit, the part where you siphon it, that…” It left her uneasy to say the least, “I’m not really sure I understand that at all.” At least she was in the clear– her powers weren’t really magic, they just were. 

“Like, I just eat ghosts to sustain myself, but I don’t– I mean, I eat other things. I really like tacos.” She scrunched her nose before letting out a breath. “Okay, Marcus. Let’s say I believe you and your little pelt story.” She’d seen it with her own eyes, but she still felt like there was something missing, “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine, obviously.” She extended a hand, eyes narrowed with faux suspicion. He had a lot to lose, and it was obvious. She hadn’t divulged nearly as much as he had. 

M & M, Marcus didn’t exactly hate the sound of it. After all, in a town like this, friends were very valuable resources. Yet this friend didn’t seem all too familiar with how her abilities worked, and also didn’t seem to show much interest in figuring it out. 

“Hmmm, I guess gatekeeping would be a decent way of putting it. Can’t have my powers unless the pelt wants to cooperate with me. Sometimes, if you’re pelt isn’t charged and you can’t use it for a long time, it feels like when people get withdrawals from coming off some kind of vice. Except, instead of the symptoms getting better over time, they continue getting worse. So you could say it’s kind of essential for everyone to keep a hold of.”

“Basically, the pelt uses magic to mold itself and transform. But there’s no inherent magic in the pelt itself. So it has to come from somewhere, you know?” 

Sometimes when he spoke of selkie pelts he felt as if he were attributing to them a mind of their own. And sometimes, it felt as though they had a mind of their own too. 

“You…eat ghosts?” Marcus asked incredulously. He had only dealt with the ghost of the old man in the lighthouse previously, he didn’t know they could be eaten. Couldn’t they phase through shit? Wouldn’t they be able to just…walk out of her? 

“Glad to hear my secret’s safe with you…but for real you eat ghosts? Because that could be really useful down the line some time. There’s a lot of spooky things hanging around here and not all of them can be handled with a knife.” 

“Your secret is, of course, safe with me. Folks like you and me have to stick together and look out for each other after all. I’d keep a low profile if I were you though, which means cool it with the light shows” he said, gesturing back up at the sky. 

The explanation that Marcus put into his pelt should have reassured Mona that she wasn’t being fucked with, but there was still something strange. “In a way, I can understand that.” It was the closest she’d get to admitting that there was something she was guarding, too. There was no use in going into the details, especially considering how she wasn’t sure where to start. Besides, she was sure if he really wanted to do more, he could research it himself. 

Marcus went on further and Mona’s brows furrowed. She tried to align everything, tried to make it perfect and pretty– to make it make sense, but she still wasn’t quite sure how something without magic could need magic, especially a shifter. Mona decided silently that she’d do her own research. “Your pelt is magic, got it.” She wasn’t sure that’s what he was trying to say, but it was what she landed on anyway. 

At his question, she nodded. “Only the non-aggressive ones, and not like, poltergeists.” She shivered, thinking about the number of spirits she’d left in her wake after realizing they were a little too big for her appetite. “I eat ghosts, I eat fries, I like to eat fish, too. You’re a seal, you can understand that.” At least she was agreeing that he was a seal– that was a good start. 

Mona smiled at his extension of understanding and nodded. “I’m glad that we met, even if I’m not sure I believe you.” So much for giving in to the reality of their situation, “but I’m sure I will overtime. Do you do tricks, like at the circus? Is that rude?” She paused, face relaxing slightly, “how about we talk more about it over fries? I’ll get you your own.” 

“Well Mona,” said Marcus, “at least we’re a little bit closer to an understanding. It isn’t magic itself, but it uses it.” 

Marcus pondered, if she didn’t eat dangerous ghosts did she just eat the poor souls who were stuck here without a way to be laid to rest. Furthermore, what happened to a ghost that was eaten? Is it fully conscious inside her stomach, do they pass on to whatever afterlife there is, or do they just cease to exist completely? He didn’t want to think on it too long. Those types of thoughts always filled him with existential dread. 

“I do like fish, although when I’m not in the water I do prefer them cooked. But eating a scallop or oyster fresh from the seafloor is an experience most people can only dream of. I mean, talk about a fresh catch”. 

“Can’t say I’ve ever tried doing tricks”, he laughed at the question. He wasn’t offended, more amused at the idea of balancing a ball on his nose while a bunch of onlookers surrounded him, enjoying the show. “But yes, I’d love to talk with you more about it. And I just so happen to know a really good spot to go for fries, too!” 

[dirtwatchman]

PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @thenavysealkie TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Caleb needs to clear his head so he goes to the beach. He runs into Marcus in seal form and wants to leave but something is telling him to stick around...and it's being very forceful. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

That nagging feeling that someone, or something, was following him had yet to go away. It had been a few days now where Caleb could feel some sort of presence lurking around him, hidden somewhere in the shadows, but he wasn’t quite sure what was going on or why for that matter. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like he was being followed in this town but it was the first time it had been so persistent for so long. 

He needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off of what could possibly be going on, and when he was younger those distractions came in the form of nature. There were so many beautiful places in this town, so many that he frequented when he was hiding out from home, but Caleb had found himself on the shores of Vicker’s beach with the view of the lighthouse holding his gaze. The zombie kept watching the light go round and round as it informed the ships out at sea of the land mass, trying his very best to let go of that eerie feeling that had plagued him all day, but it wasn’t until there was movement a little ways down the stretch of beach that he’d started to forget. 

His head turned, gaze torn away from the beauty of the tall building only to be caught by something large in the sand. He was almost hesitant to move towards it but he took a step forward since his eyes weren’t exactly reliable. For all he knew, Caleb could have been looking at a rock he hadn’t noticed already. He took a few more paces forward, watching as the shape formed into that of an extremely large looking seal. But that couldn’t be right. Seals weren’t that…big, were they? The zombie kept walking, all too aware that whatever presence was attached to him was coming along, but he stayed quiet so that he wouldn’t spook whatever it was that he was walking up to. There was no need for an animal attack on the beach tonight.

Another quiet and cold night on the icy coast of Wicked’s Rest. Marcus watched the sea for what felt like hours, and not a single ship seemed to be passing through. He was growing restless, having not shifted in a few days, and decided that while there was a lull in his duties he’d get a little exercise in while he still had the cover of night. The beach was typically quiet in the night time, especially in the dead of winter. Because of this, Marcus often didn’t worry much about being seen by anyone at this time. It did lead to him acting rather carelessly when he did transform.

As he approached the shore he casually produced his pelt from around his shoulders and began his transformation. As he felt his body change into his all too familiar seal like shape, he suddenly heard the sound of soft footsteps in the sand around him. 

Shit

That was all he could think to himself as he knew the footsteps must be approaching him. Whoever was here very likely saw him transform, but he did still have the darkness of night to help obscure him somewhat. Maybe they wouldn’t believe it was anything paranormal? Perhaps just a regular seal that they initially mistook for looking human? Regardless, panicking wasn’t going to do much to bail Marcus out of a potentially bad situation. Instead, he made his way into the sea and began to swim around, trying to act natural. He soon realized that he had left his human clothes right where he was standing before he transformed. He worried that whoever was there could easily put two and two together, and only hoped that they wouldn’t notice.

Okay, yea…that was a giant seal and he knew that it hadn’t been there before. Caleb had watched the shadows transform but from what he still wasn’t sure. At least not until he got to the spot that he’d been eyeing while simultaneously looking back at the animal in the water to try and make sure it wasn’t rushing him or something (They did that, right?). Seeing the clothes on the ground, his mind immediately went to Wyatt. The lamia took his clothes off to transform but hadn’t he said that lamia only turned into reptiles? Still, there were other shapeshifters out there. Werewolves came to mind but the zombie didn’t really think a seal bite was going to make someone transform every full moon…plus it wasn’t a full moon.

“Selkie…” It was a whispered word that ran through his mind but as it did a tingle of fear ran down his spine. That wasn’t a word he knew. It wasn’t something that he would have thought of on his own. Suddenly, Caleb had two different crises going on at once and he wasn’t sure which one to run from first. Though, he couldn’t outrun the feeling of somebody following him or the shadow that had formed at his feet and stretched around him without any source of light contributing. For some reason, he knew that word traveling through his mind had something to do with that shadow and there was no getting away from it right now.

But he could get away from that seal. 

“Stay.”

This time, he turned his head towards that eerie entity, head swiveling as if he would be able to see it. It was so unnerving that he dug his feet into the sand right next to those clothes laying on the ground to show that he wasn’t going anywhere. Something made him think that obeying whatever this was had to be the best course of action. But since he couldn’t see it, Caleb looked back at the ocean towards where the animal…or person was swimming. His hands went to his jacket pockets, trying to make it seem like he was there to stay.

As Marcus continued his seal acrobatics in the water, he would occasionally shoot a glance back to the shoreline. To his disappointment, the man was still standing right near his clothes. In fact, it didn’t look as though he had any intentions of moving. While Marcus didn’t mind staying this way, something told him he’d have to reveal himself to this man sooner rather than later. He seemed very intent on staying put and waiting for Marcus to return to shore. 

Rather than betray his fear of being discovered, Marcus opted to tackle the confrontation head on. After all, it wasn’t like he had many other options. He could swim down coast a bit and circle back to this house, but that would leave the issue of not having his clothes with him. While he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, he knew plenty of folks in town wouldn’t appreciate him flaunting himself over town, even if he had the cover of night obscuring most of him. And so, he confidently swam back to shore and shifted right back into his human form in front of the other man. 

In spite of his compromising position, Marcus stood tall and puffed his chest out as an act of intimidation. “Can I help you? If not, I’d like to get my clothes back if you wouldn’t mind, Mr…?” He waited expectantly for the other man to give him his name while he reached for his clothes and started to put them back on. 

“Y’know it’s rude to spy on people, you never know what you’ll end up finding out about them. And you may see more than you bargained for. What brings you to the beach so late at night anyway?”

It was as if the seal was putting on a show, Caleb transfixed for a moment as it kept up its antics in the water, but the real show came as the animal made its way back to the shore. For a split second the zombie wondered if he should run. He couldn’t die unless a seal knew to take his head off but growing back a limb was never fun to do and he didn’t feel like causing a scene in town as he searched for food. He was about to move his feet but that ever looming presence turned darker as if angered by the very thought of him wanting to run away.

He planted his feet again and suddenly the seal had transformed into the figure he thought he had glimpsed before…a very naked one at that. What was it with him and shifters? Were they all so casual with showing off their bodies? He hadn’t really given the man a choice though, had he? 

Looking directly at the man’s face, Caleb let his eyes go wide as the other spoke to him. What kind of explanation could he give here? Somehow he thought ‘some shadow creature told me to stay so I stayed’ wouldn’t cut it but the man before him just turned into a seal and back so what did he know? “Right, yea, no I’m not trying to block you from your clothing.” He stepped away from them even as the other had already grabbed for them. “I’m Caleb, and I guess…curiosity killed the man or whatever that saying is.”

The other words had him nodding slowly, the whispered name that the shadows had given him earlier coming back so harshly that he briefly wondered if the dark had whispered it again. “Finding out about them…like that they’re a selkie?” He raised his eyebrows in question, mostly because he was wondering if that name was the correct one for this type of shift. “I needed to clear my head. There’s been a lot going on lately…like finding shifters on a deserted beach. No need to ask what you’re doing here, it’s kind of obvious. Sorry I interrupted your swim.”

Marcus listened to the man speak as he turned to face him, now fully dressed again. Curiosity was certainly a relatable excuse, he was a nosy bitch himself, but what would bring someone to this exact area of the beach at this time of night? Surely more than just curiosity? 

“Curiosity definitely can kill a man here. I could have been something far more dangerous than a seal man. Luckily, you just caught a man during his nightly exercise. As you can imagine, I prefer to wait for the cover of night to avoid being seen. Clearly that didn’t work well tonight…” he trailed off, admitting to himself that he had definitely been a bit careless tonight. He knew if Caleb had meant him any harm he likely would have attacked by now, and thankful he wasn’t a threat. 

“Maybe a selkie, maybe a man eating seal monster. All you saw was a weird seal and some clothes on the shore. You could have been seal food.” He said with a casual shrug of the shoulders. While he didn’t think there were any giant man eating seal monsters, the idea of one seemed threatening enough to dissuade Caleb from approaching strange animals in the future. 

“I came here for the same thing. There’s nothing more calming than the waves crashing against the shore under the moonlight. It’s very peaceful.” Marcus then thought to the confrontational way he had approached Caleb and how he probably just spooked some poor guy out for a walk. “Sorry. I came in a little hot there, didn’t I? I just didn’t know what to expect and I was in sort of a compromising position. Didn’t really help you clear your head, did I?” He said, looking apologetically at Caleb.

“I know how dangerous some of these things can be.” How dangerous he could be if he got to a certain point. Caleb should have booked it as soon as he’d confirmed that the thing he saw was a giant seal. Seals could be vicious, seals who were actually men could have been so much worse. And yet, the danger he’d felt when he saw the animal was somehow less than the danger he felt with this entity around him. That was only amplified when the zombie felt fear travel down his spine as if the thing was laughing at his words. Only instead of sound ringing out over the beach he could only feel it. It was alarming.

Seal monsters. Why didn’t he doubt that could be a thing? Lips lifting into a ghost of a smile, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to wave off some of the tension that was building inside of him. “I promise next time I see a giant seal I’ll run in the other direction.” It was assumed that he got the confirmation that he needed, that this man is called a selkie. Why it had been so important, he still wasn’t sure but he was relieved that the answer had been indirectly given which seemed to sate the shadowy area behind him. He could feel it, as if Caleb were somehow connected to the dark now. 

“Yea, super peaceful.” If you weren’t being stalked. Eyes widening at the apology, the zombie shook his head. “No apologies necessary. If I could turn into a giant seal I wouldn’t want anyone witnessing me turning back…especially without clothes.” To be fair to the other, there probably wasn’t much that could get Caleb’s mind off of his current predicament. “It wasn’t really helping much anyway. This is a better distraction.”

 As Caleb spoke, Marcus felt that the man almost seemed to be distracted in a sense. Like there was something far more pressing weighing on his mind other than a seal man confronting him in the middle of the night. “Dangerous hardly begins to cover it. It isn’t even just the creatures here, the water itself can swallow you up without a second thought.” Or really a first thought. As much as Marcus loved to personify the ocean it couldn’t actually think. It was indiscriminate in its force and that’s what made it so potentially terrifying. 

“For what it’s worth, it’s good that you stuck around this time. There’s been a lot of…strange occurrences around town. Never know what’s lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. Best to stay where the moonlight can at least offer some sort of refuge.” Marcus could sense it. Danger,  a feeling of dread forming a heavy pit in his stomach. He couldn’t tell where, but he could tell it was close. Or perhaps his instincts were a bit over active at the moment, probably from the initial scare of stumbling upon Caleb in the first place. 

“It’s just hard to know who you can trust with that kind of info. I’m glad you were friendly, I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you, after all.” Marcus said, giving a warning glance before cracking a more warm and friendly smile towards the man. He didn’t want to fully let his guard down yet, but Caleb seemed at least mostly harmless to him. “Well hey, I don’t own the beach. You can stick around as long as you like, but I should probably head back. No rest for the wicked, right?”

Little did Marcus know, the ocean couldn’t do much to Caleb. Being swallowed by the waves would only prove dangerous if other creatures were around to take him down otherwise the water couldn’t put his lungs in a chokehold like it could with regular humans. But he nodded at the warning anyway, glancing at the waves and wondering if he’d be safer there than on land where the shadows had their tight grip on him. “Yea, I’ll keep that in mind. The waves do get rough sometimes…assuming you’re talking about the current.”

Alarm was clear in his eyes when the other man spoke of the shadows. All he could wonder was if they were affecting him the way they were Caleb. Were they stalking him too? It was almost comforting to think that someone else was in this with him but as he thought about asking what the other meant a strong warning poured into him from all around. Every square inch of his body was on fire with it. He took in a deep breath of surprise before deciding against discussing the shadows with him, only nodding at the words once again. This man was going to think he was mute if he kept this up. 

Seeing the warning in the selkie’s look, a nervous smile finally appeared. “Don’t worry. I know a thing or two about secrets. Nobody will hear it from me.” The chilling wheeze of a chuckle filled his mind. He instantly knew that it was from whatever was entwined in Caleb’s orbit, infiltrating every part of him. Again, he had to wonder if Marcus was feeling that too. It didn’t seem like he was but he could have been much better at hiding what was going on in his mind. “Right, no rest.” There was a weak attempt at a laugh but it was clear that the zombie was lost to the horrifying distraction in his own mind. “It was nice to meet you Marcus.”

“The current, sure” Marcus began, “but also the waves come in a lot farther than you’d think. A lot of folks I pull out were just walking too close to the shoreline, tempting fate. Fate often obliges them”. 

Marcus shot a quizzical glance at the man, who currently seemed to be contemplating something. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, and Marcus wondered if there’d be a more sinister element to this conversation. However, the man simply nodded, not saying another word further to him about it.

“I’m glad to hear it. You seem like a good guy, Caleb. I should probably be heading off now, it’s getting pretty late now after all. You take care though. And I mean what I said earlier, be careful out there.” And with that final parting remark, Marcus made his way back towards his station. Oddly enough, as he moved away from Caleb the sense of dread slowly drained away from him the further he got. He chalked it up to nerves, and carried onward.

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: August 20 PARTIES: Marcus @thenavysealkie & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Short & Stout Brewery SUMMARY: Inge sits down across from Marcus. They end up staring at a piece of abstract art, and interpret it in their own, personal ways. They chat for a while after moments of introspection. CONTENT WARNINGS: Child death

The Short & Stout brewery had soon become a favored space of Inge, who liked a place where she could sip a fair few beers but didn’t like coming across her students while doing so. It was sweet, anyway, to come here after a walk in the woods. She’d collected a fair few bits and bobs, to file away in her collection of naturalistic bits and bobs — it would be of use in a future piece, one that only existed in her mind for now.

With a Pepper Up Stout in her hands, hiking boots still on her feet, she moved through the brewery before letting her gaze fall on a piece of art above a little nook. There was already someone sitting there, but Ingeborg had never let that stop her. She looked at the painting for a moment. Mixed media, that she liked. “That must be new,” she said, pointing at it with her glass. A small bit of beer fell on the table. “Oops! Sorry, let me get that —” Placing her glass down and sliding in the boot, her eyes trailed to the painting once more before she got a tissue to wipe the liquid up. 

She balled the spoiled paper up and pushed it to the side of the table. “I just need a closer look to that piece of work, if that’s okay. If you mind the company, just say so.” Inge looked up again. “What do you think of it?” 

Despite his more affluent upbringing, Marcus didn’t really know much about fine art. He and his father were much more focused on studying sports and war history, and didn’t take a lot of time to appreciate much else. Still his mother loved it, and he now found himself regretting not studying a subject that he could have connected with his mother on. As he leaned back in his chair and sipped on his drink, it was the same one he had been sipping on for the past 40 minutes, he studied the painting above where he sat and tried to understand where people found the deeper beauty. 

It doesn’t even look like anything, it’s like somebody just slapped a bunch of colors on a canvas and called it a day. I could do that, Marcus thought to himself. His thoughts were soon interrupted, however, as he heard a woman’s voice behind him talking about the piece. He saw the woman spill a small amount of her drink on the table, some of it splashing onto his arm. 

The woman then decided to sit down right next to him, which wasn’t unwelcome. He definitely appreciated the company. However, she soon asked him what his thoughts on the piece of art were, and she definitely seemed to appreciate it more than he did. Now, he could have had an honest conversation and tell her it just looked like random globs of paint, but didn’t think that would get him far. Besides, having an intellectual conversation about the piece might just teach him a thing or two. 

Marcus swirled his drink thoughtfully before saying “I find their color choice and line work to be… pedestrian.” He did his best to emulate his mother and her rich friends when they went on their art tours. “How about you?” 

It would be a source of shame for Inge, if her art ever came to hang in a place like this. Not that there was anything wrong with the bar itself, but there was something about your pieces being bought just to be looked at by people intending to get drunk. No, she preferred to sell to more fine dining places, if she had to. Besides, one of her pieces would look absolutely out of place here.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy some of the art that arrived in more mundane places. And this was a nice piece, truly. Abstract, but clever in a way. Even from where she sat she could see the different techniques, not just the acrylic paint but the other materials used. Was that some rotan? Her eyes narrowed. It had potential, Inge thought. Like a bored housewife had made it who could do so much more — but maybe she was just projecting now.

“Pedestrian?” Her gaze redirected to the stranger and she took a large sip of her drink, mulling over that assessment. “Gotta politely disagree with you there. It’s easy to glance at, sure, not the most complicated — but it’s hardly pedestrian. Accessible art is great, you know? This is abstract in a way where people can get into it. Plenty of ways to interpret, and, if you ask me, excellent use of color.”

Swing and a miss Marcus thought to himself. At least he gave it a try. Maybe he hadn’t made a complete ass of himself? Judging by her reaction it didn’t seem like a completely uninformed take, just one that she disagreed with. He figured it shouldn’t be hard to recover. Still, she definitely seemed to know what she was talking about. 

“Oh of course. It’s very… colorful. I like how the brush strokes really cover the canvas. I suppose you’re right, accessibility is always a good thing, right?” Marcus looked more closely at the piece. The colors definitely seemed to represent something but what? Was there meant to be a clear answer? Was that the point, that there was no point? Or that there were multiple points?

Marcus didn’t really know how to interpret the piece. Not wanting to put his foot in his mouth again, he asked “and what’s your interpretation of it?”

The best thing about art was its subjectivity. There was no such thing as bad art (though there was such a thing as bad artists, Inge thought) at the end of the day, even if a person might dislike a piece greatly. Some of her work had been met with lukewarm reviews, but there had always been at least one person who had gotten enjoyment out of it. Disagreeing with a stranger on a piece of art in a bar was fun.

She gave a nod of the head, “Certainly. And that’s not to say that there is art out there that’s meant for more intermediary or expert art observers, but still! A Rothko here would be out of place.” 

He asked for her opinion and her gaze moved from the canvas to him. “I see a mother and her daughter, perhaps faintly. It’s such an easy concept to interpret in a multitude of ways, you know? But there, the larger and then —” Her finger moved to another blob of paint, “The smaller. The rest could be whatever. I’m not sure yet.” Inge looked at him. She had no idea what the artist’s intention had been and didn’t care for now. “What about you?” 

Marcus, predictably, had no idea what a Rothko was. An artist? Some sort of alien species? Then she gave her own interpretation. A mother and her child. While he could certainly kind of see what she was talking about after pointing out the different sized blots of paint, it seemed like a stretch. Still, the woman next to him certainly seemed to derive more meaning from the piece than he did. And he had to admit, seeing it from her perspective definitely allowed him to actually make some sense of the piece. 

Figuring he couldn’t steal her answer, he decided to come up with an interpretation on the spot. He always considered himself a more literal person, so interpretation of abstract thought and design weren’t exactly his forte. He swore they should use these pieces to replace Rorschach tests, because of all of the different answers people could give you. He analyzed the piece very carefully, looking for something. 

He suddenly remembered tagging along with his mother to art galas when he was a young boy, trying to distract himself as she talked to her snobbish friends about one technique or another. Still, he did remember what was discussed, and could use a thing or two from those discussions. It also helped that he took an art appreciation class in high school, which could give him a few more tools to interpret with. He got a C in that class, but still, good enough.

“The different sized blots of ink could also represent growth. One person, but at different points of their life. The interesting thing to try to figure out is, which way are they growing? Positively or negatively? The light colors towards the top of the canvas can represent happiness, but is the subject growing towards or away from the light?” 

Once he started, he just sort of kept going. He had decided on an interpretation and his brain just sort of ran with it the rest of the way. And the best part was he didn’t pull any of it out of his ass, he was speaking genuinely about it. He was impressed with himself, and he turned to face the woman next to him hoping that he had impressed her as well.

Interpreting art was something Inge could do for an incredible amount of time. Sometimes she’d use the astral plane to her advantage, making her way to galleries in the larger cities of the continent to stare at the art and make them fit her own vision. There was no error to be had with interpretation. Sure, the academic world would say there was such a thing, but she found it all rather elitist. Art was for the viewer. 

And even when people spoke complete bullshit, it was still somewhat thought through. That was why it nice that there was no plate next to this artwork: there was no title to go off, no artist’s name to Google for context. Here it was, this singular piece. Not the best she’d ever seen, but intriguing. Of course Inge saw a mother and a child, because she saw mothers with children everywhere except in the mirror. In the mirror was only the mother, childless.

Without the other knowing it or her, she’d given him a piece of her soul by offering his interpretation. So she could only hope the answer he’d give her was as truthful as hers had been. “Interesting, I like that. The lightness could apply on my interpretation too, if you don’t mind. Maybe the child is moving forward, further than the parent.” 

Inge took a long sip of her drink after that statement. “Whether it’s growing towards it or not is all up to you,” she said. Art was also freedom. Maybe she’d paint again, when coming home. “Or maybe it’s teaching us that there is no use in putting value on growth. All growth can be good and bad? Hm. Makes you think.”

He almost couldn’t believe it. Here was Marcus having an intellectual conversation with a complete stranger over what certain flecks of paint on a canvas meant. Although he had to admit that he found himself to be very engaged in the conversation. Maybe he had an interest in this sort of thing after all. His interpretation really just sort of blurted out, he barely even thought of the words before he spoke them. Perhaps it was him projecting his own experiences and emotions onto what he saw on the canvas. He figured that probably lent credence to his suggestion of using modern art as Rorschach tests.  

He thought of her interpretation of the child moving beyond the parent, and thought of his own mother and father. He was finally able to get in contact with them, assured by William that the brass presumed him to be dead and were no longer making efforts to find him. Not that Marcus trusted what he had to say, but figured he wouldn’t risk coming to Marcus and boldly making his presence known if he felt there was a risk he’d get caught up in some military manhunt. They were relieved to have the confirmation that he was alive and well, but never really had their doubts. 

“My son drowning at sea?”, his mother said. “Honestly I had to fight to keep a sad expression on my face when they came to our door to say that.”

“What were you thinking?! I thought we told you not to be so careless, that pelt is your lifeline! And you let somebody steal it?” His father was not quite as warm about the situation. 

They expressed sympathy for his situation and relief that he was, relatively speaking, okay. He missed home, and once again he saw himself projecting himself onto the canvas. The child grows beyond the parent. Here he was, brave new world. Uncharted waters. Still unsure, is this growth more good than it is bad? Or is it an even split?  

He looked at the woman next to him again. 

“I definitely know what you mean. Life isn’t a perfect black and white. It’s a collection of grays. Who’s to say the light is even a good thing?”

She kept thinking about the mother and child herself, thinking of little Vera in her then-mortal arms. Inge’s world had been so limited back then, in that house she shared with Hendrik — her center of the universe had been nothing but that bundle of joy. And she had loved her, deeply, and she had worried for her, deeply.

Vera had come from her (and Hendrik, but he mattered so little to her, that brutish and horrible man) and had made a life on this world that was her own. Inge knew she hadn’t been the best mother, that there had been a distance forced between herself and her daughter because of her own selfishness, because of her transformation into something more-than-human. Like the shapes, they stopped standing together at some point. Vera had left and Inge had not begged her to stay, and somehow it had made things better between them.

Because when Vera had gone her own way in the world, attending university and bursting with ambition. From a distance, her daughter had been so admirable and beautiful. From a distance, Inge could at least see that Vera would have a better time than she had in her twenties, even if she would one day outgrow her.

Perhaps that’s what the stranger was getting at. Maybe Inge was the smaller shape, infinitely young whereas her daughter’s body grew older than her own ever got to be. Sometimes, the child outgrew the mother. 

She downed her drink, raised a hand to order another round, “You want one, too?” She didn’t often get filled with remorse or grief, but it hit her now. Inge reshifted her focus on the words the other had spoken, nodding. “We need both. That’s the truth in art as well as life. No use in things being good or light when there’s no bad or darkness.” She extended her hand, “I enjoyed this. My name is Inge.”

Marcus could see the woman in front of him was deep in thought. Maybe this was starting to take on a personal meaning for her too, just as it had for Marcus. Maybe she was thinking of her own parents, and her relationship with them. He hoped that that relationship wasn’t strained in any way. 

“Yes please, I’d love another round.” Usually Marcus didn’t drink much when he went out, but tonight he decided to have a few more than usual. 

He shook the woman’s hand, “Marcus” he replied back. “Very nice to meet you, I’m definitely enjoying this conversation too. It’s crazy what you can take away from just some shapes on a canvas. I think I might’ve misjudged it a little at first.”

He found himself curious about the woman next to him. He knew what his personal connection to the piece was, but what was hers? 

“So, what’s your story, Inge?”

After ordering both of them another round, she returned her focus to the stranger in front of her. His face soon gained a name and she smiled. “Marcus. Nice to meet you.” Funny, that he admitted that he’d misjudged the painting. Inge was glad to have pushed his mind a little, and found herself attributing it all completely to herself.

Her fingers splayed on the table, awaiting another drink and nodding. “Exactly! People are so quick to disregard abstract art, and though there can certainly be pretty shit pieces out there, it does challenge you more to look further than a renaissance painting. Which are interesting to analyze too, but leave less room for personal interpretation, hm?” 

He asked for her story and she wondered what he wished to know. Of course, there was no chance of her actually telling a stranger of her past – delving in the twisted youth in a post-war country, admitting that she was actually nearly eighty rather than a sprightly thirty-something – but still. “My story, hm? Tonight, I’m just here for a drink. Besides that … I teach art, I make art and I’m a bit of a traveler. What about you?”

Ah, so that would explain how she knew so much about art and interpretation. She was a teacher after all, she must have studied the subject extensively. Suddenly Marcus felt much less…uncultured. 

“I’d love to see your work some time. I’m a bit of a traveler myself, kinda have to be when you’re in the Navy. I’ve been all over but never really got to enjoy many of the places I’ve stopped at. I’ll tell you the Persian Gulf is beautiful, and probably a lot nicer when people aren’t trying to drop bombs on top of you.” He chuckled a bit, trying to throw some humor into a confession he admitted was pretty dark. 

He couldn’t help but notice that there was still a bit of mystery. For tonight, just here for a drink. I guess he could say the same for himself. He decided not to press his new acquaintance for any further details. He had learned that if somebody doesn’t talk about something readily, it’s for good reason. 

“Nowadays, I do maintenance at the lighthouse, keep an eye out for any stranded ships or drowning swimmers. Figure I should put my good swimming ability to good use.”

“Who knows, maybe you will be able to soon. There’s always two pieces of mine on the campus, though,” she said, not saying out loud that she was in talks with MuertArte, as it would certainly count as jinxing it if she were to say she was in talks with them. Inge smiled, still, “I’m more of a sculptor myself, though. Less abstract, too.”

Ah, the navy. A little disappointing, she thought, and not just because the navy tended to work on the sea which Inge despised due to its high salt levels. “Ah, I tend to avoid locations where people drop bombs on me personally. Not joining the navy has been very useful in that goal thus far.” She chuckled. 

When she was about to ask if he was in the navy now – and if so, why the hell he was in Wicked’s Rest – he revealed himself to work at the lighthouse. “Ah, so no more bombs, hm? Just all the other weird stuff this town has to offer.” 

She took a long sip of her drink. “Are you not too high up to rescue any drowning swimmers, though? What happens when you’re up there and someone starts screaming for help? Do you run down all those stairs? Or … slide like a fireman?”

Marcus was pleased the woman next to him joked back with him. He always used humor to make light of his experiences at war, and some people found that to be in poor taste. It always felt like they were trying to be offended on his behalf even though he was the one who made the joke in the first place. 

“Not joining in the first place is good advice, where were you 12 years ago?” Marcus said, gesturing towards Inge with his glass. 

She had a point about his ability to rescue drowning swimmers. A normal person wouldn’t be able to dive from those heights and swim efficiently enough to rescue someone drowning. It would be far more likely that they’d end up drowning along with the victim.

“We had a pretty firm ‘no man left behind’ policy on my ship.” Except for when it came to his own overboard occurrence of course, although their lack of investigation was to his benefit. “If somebody went overboard, every man on that ship was trained to dive down from a great height safely and retrieve their comrade from the water. A lot of the coastline around Wicked’s Rest is much less forgiving than the smooth surface of a ship, but I make do. I actually went to the state finals in high school for high diving!” Surprisingly, he hadn’t won. He made it to the final round but his father encouraged him to tone things down a little so as not to appear too good. As a result, he took home second place, which he was still pleased with, but always had a hint of bitterness over not getting to enjoy his championship. 

“Do you get many students?” he asked her, changing the subject

Where was she twelve years ago? Drowning her sorrows in other people’s nightmares. Sick with grief in Europe. Wishing she was human for the first time in decades just so she could sleep for a while, close her eyes and drift off. But that was hardly a suitable answer. To explain that she’d had an adult daughter who had died then — well, it was a little too much baring of the soul. Revealing, too. Inge didn’t look like someone who’d had a child in her thirties.

“Italy. I was an artist-in-residence in the north, it was quite lovely.” Not an entire lie. She’d been going by a different name then, her art had been ugly in its rage. Grief bended and collapsed time, sure, but so did immortality. Inge took a long sip from her drink. Fuck this question. “A lot colder than you might expect.” 

She was glad he went on about diving from large heights, the distraction it offered from her own past (which was often romanticized and thought of highly, with some exception like now). “Ah, sure — but a lighthouse, is that not much higher than the largest diving board? I’m not sure, I haven’t gone swimming in quite some time.” She missed swimming in the sea. The few memories she had of the ocean as a mortal (going to the coast with Hendrik and Vera for a week during summer, getting sunburned and salty) were vague, and yet she longed. Shit, she was getting nostalgic. “That’s cool, though. What’s the highest you’ve ever dived from?”

Inge nodded. “A fair few. I don’t just teach sculpting, and a lot of them like to take an art class even if it’s not their major. Seems we all need some art, hm? What'd you go to college for?”

Marcus wasn’t really expecting her to answer where she was 12 years ago, he meant the question rhetorically. Still, traveling around northern Italy couldn’t have been easy, even with all of the charm that came along with it. 

“Well, if you’re going to practice your artistic skills, I’m sure the home of the renaissance is the best place to be!” He had never toured over there personally, he never had a reason to. But he had been along the mediterranean once and could agree that the view was breathtaking. 

“You can dive from surprisingly high with the right technique. You can see videos online of people jumping off of high rocky cliffs taller than the one the lighthouses sit on, you just have to land properly. Also, I do climb down a bit to the ground before jumping, that cuts down on height a lot.  I’d say the highest would be from a cliff face back home, also one that was home to a lighthouse. That must have been 150 feet up. I ended up so deep underwater, I thought for sure I’d drown.” Marcus added, trying to come across as if he actually could drown. 

“I started college going for my BA in History, but ended up with a DO instead. Meaning, I dropped out.” Marcus clarified awkwardly. It was a sore spot for him, as his parents wanted the college route to work for him. He could still feel the sting of their disappointment when he told them. They were afraid when he chose to join the navy instead, fearing for his life and the secrecy of his own identity as well as that of his family. 

“Ah well,” Marcus said after a pause. “College isn’t for everybody, right? I still did okay for myself. It sounds like we both did.” And with that Marcus tilted his glass towards Inge’s, signaling an impromptu toast to both of their relative success.

Something, unbeknownst to her, had gotten lost in translation. Inge didn’t think herself prone to such things, however, and thus she didn’t think further than to consider the other’s question strange and forward. That it caused her to do some bitter reflection was on him, too, she found.

“Certainly, though I’m not fully sure if it’s the most inspiring place I’ve ever been,” she said, and it was said a little smugly. Being well-traveled was something Inge was glad for, even proud of. Italy had been where one of her favorite exhibitions had been, when her work had represented Switzerland. That had been twenty years ago, though, when life had been different. It was pre-Vera, rather than post, which was how all of life was separated. Everything was pre- or post a death. Her own, Sanne’s, Vera’s. They were the pillars of her existence.

She nodded at the explanation, “Sure, but isn’t there rocks under a lighthouse, right? Isn’t there a large chance you fall onto those rather than into the waves?” It would be thrilling to dive from such a high place, Inge thought. Maybe she should seek more exhilaration through human adrenaline-chasing ways. Not by jumping into the ocean, though. “ A hundred and fifty feet, holy Jesus!”  She let out a laugh. “That’s impressive. Must’ve taken a while to come back up.” 

He was right, of course: college wasn’t for everybody. Inge found the confines of academia stifling at times, even as a professor. She wasn’t intending to return to teaching when she’d inevitably ditch this town and find something else to do. “ It sure isn’t. We rely on those pieces of paper too much.”  She had learned most of her skills through other means, anyway, even if going to university back in the day had been freeing. She lifted her glass, tilted it towards him, “It seems we did. Cheers to that.” 

Marcus had grown to enjoy the conversation, but felt the night was getting late. 

“I agree. Some papers with our names on them and some fancy titles or letters next to our name don’t define our worth.”

He found the statement a bit hypocritical of him to say. After all, isn’t a soldier’s value tied to badges and ranks? Was the hierarchy there any different than in the drudgery of academia? Maybe they had experience in more similar fronts than he had initially thought. The top brass of the military could share many similarities to a university’s administration or board. 

Marcus raised his glass and met his new friend’s toast. 

“Cheers. To happiness, success, and new friends. Interesting how a piece can get people talking and bring them together, isn’t it? I guess that’s part of the beauty.”

She nodded in agreement, “Exactly,” she said, placing her glass back on the table. “Art is a great equalizer, even if people want to act all high and mighty about it.” Inge thought about her current job and how annoyingly elitist academia could be. She’d trade it for something else soon enough.

She took a long sip from her drink, finishing the glass and letting the empty vessel rest against the wood of the table. “It was nice to meet you …” She waited to receive his name, and then extended her hand to make the introduction official. “I’m Inge.” 

The hour was getting late, though — at least it was for the non-nocturnal humanoids, and with drinks finished, it seemed the meeting was coming to a natural close all the same. With names and even more personal things exchanged, though, Inge was genuine when she told the other, “Thank you for your company tonight. I’ll see you around.”

[pollen-warden]

Well, we have been in town for nearly a century now, but I'd rather you found out about us today than never.

The good thing with honey, is that it'll never spoil, but I too have a preference for my latest batch.

I'm not sure I understand your question. And yet another human aware of things they shouldn't be aware of. Adbhuta ! (Marvelous). They're... honey bees, you know ? Regular bees for honey making.

I'd have to count them all to know if we have an odd number of them but other than that, I can guarantee that they are normal.

I didn't know we had a bee farm in town! That's fantastic. I wouldn't mind some honey, especially fresh!

I do have to ask...these are normal bees, right? They're not odd in any way?

[wickedsrest-rp]

Crabs Gone Wild | Group Thread

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f), Marcus (@thenavysealkie), Van (@vanoincidence), & Dīs (@disinfernus) SUMMARY: After a disruption on the beach, Marcus finds himself with company on the shore close to the lighthouse. Crabs are everywhere! While the four discuss amongst themselves on what to do with the crabs (get rid of them, or leave them alone entirely) something lurks beneath the surface as they figure out a way to get them to scatter: coffee!

Wicked’s Rest. The little town with an equal measure of college kids and apparent secrets. Today was a beautiful day in early June, the sun shining overhead as several families, groups of friends and lone bathers took advantage of the lovely weather by frequenting the beach. The sand was layered in swathes of technicolored towels, picnic blankets and punctured by bright umbrellas. The smell of something cooking was wafting through the salty sea breeze and the sound of the waves lapping the shore was drowned out by laughter and discussion, shouting because someone let the ball drift too far out to sea, dogs barking as they brought back that disgusting, seaweed-covered stick back when they have so many toys they could’ve fetched instead. Gael wasn’t quite in the middle of the hubbub as he probably would’ve been. Instead, today, he was sitting on an old wooden bench by himself at the foot of a staircase that led from the sandy ground to the paths above, the walkway that overlooked that particular section of beach. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to any one thing as he sat there, slightly hunched and wearing plain clothes. His back hurt and he couldn’t recall getting much (if any) sleep the night before but what he COULD remember was being incredibly sore, that familiar sensation of his skeleton being rearranged by whatever he did when he sleepwalked. He wasn’t going to complain about it, though, instead finding solace in his existence at that moment as he sipped hot black coffee from one of his trusty old mugs. The messenger bag he took almost everywhere with him was loosely strung over his shoulder, resting on one side of him while a tall thermos stood upright on the other. His half-lidded eyes with the dark circles under them looked ahead, catching glimpses of activity here and there before it faded back into the haze of motion and color. Yep, today was going to be just– Then Gael heard a scream. It was distant and he was exhausted but even with those two factors considered, he instinctively raised his head, squaring his shoulders as was put on alert, turning in the direction he heard the scream coming from. In a swirl of activity, he saw people standing about, the joy largely gone from them as a collective as they gazed upon a mass of something moving on the shore near the lighthouse. Black, chittering, hundreds of… what were those? Gael forced himself to stand, gathering his few belongings, finishing his cup of coffee and he hastily made his way up the staircase to get a better look, ignoring the humming and nervous chatter of beachgoers and passersby. Once he was at the top, he looked out over the railing at the glittering, swaying collection of what appeared to be hundreds of crabs, their shells oily black and their movements highly irregular, never mind that Gael had never seen so many in one place before. “Well THAT doesn’t look good,” He murmured to himself, cleaning the mug with the hem of his shirt before stuffing it into his bag.

The sun poked through Marcus’s window and woke him far earlier than he would have liked. Granted, it was mid morning already, but his recent bout of insomnia meant he had only fallen asleep at about 5am. He silently cursed being woken up so early after finally being able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Regardless, he figured it was best to get up and start his day. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be falling back asleep. 

After getting dressed, he walked outside and the typical sounds of the town that usually greeted him were replaced with a sharp scream followed by quiet murmuring. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a large group of people huddled around the shore, nervously whispering amongst themselves. What the hell was going on?

He moved towards the shore, trying to peek over the mass of people to figure what had them all so concerned. And then he saw it. A mass of crabs, all huddled together like it was some sort of crab family reunion. On second thought, this seemed far sinister. They were all completely black and shiny as if they were covered in oil. This difference and their strange movements made it seem almost like a cult scene. Of course, the idea of a crab cult was a ridiculous one. 

Still, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. Marcus sighed to himself and started to move towards the shoreline to get a closer look.

As the body of crabs ebbed and flowed, moving as one grand unit like an oozing black wave of dangerous pincers (and definitely too strange for Gael to assume was natural), he found himself glancing around at the crowd of onlookers. Most of them started generally retreating, which made sense but he was looking specifically for anyone who was moving towards the mass. Scanning, scanning, then his eyes fell upon a fit man who seemed to be making his way in the opposite direction of the general movement of the crowd. That was the one he wanted to talk to - his mind was already perceiving this as a challenge and while he had no idea how to fix anything yet, finding solidarity in someone else who was at least curious to see what was happening was a plus in his book. Shakily, he descended the staircase once more, keeping his sharp eyes on where he last saw the man, weaving his way through the crowd with as much polite urgency as he could until he locked his vision on the man. “Hey–” he called to get the man’s attention. “Hey, sorry to bother you but…” He trailed off and looked over at the crab rave, which was considerably more intimidating now that he was closer. “The hell’s going on?"

God, there were so many of them. All huddled together as one black mass and… were they dancing? To say this was unusual would be a massive understatement, something was seriously wrong with these crabs. And if the crabs were affected this way, he could only imagine how this would affect the rest of the wildlife along the shore and in the water. He didn’t like the idea of getting closer, but he needed to figure this out. 

Suddenly he heard a man’s voice call out behind him. Why was he asking him what was happening? How should he know? 

“Somethings up with the crabs” he said, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. “I’m gonna try to figure out what’s going on so I can fix them. Care to join me?” 

He looked like a practically minded and logical man, maybe he could offer some useful insight?

If they weren’t staring down an army of crabs, Gael might’ve replied with sarcasm at the response but this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag with a nod. “Yeah, I was hoping you would say that.” His eyes danced over the other man’s stern features as though searching for something he wasn’t sure he was looking for. “Okay, so…” He gulped and nodded his head. “Bunch of crabs. I don’t know much about crabs but I don’t think they usually… move in unison like that,” It was his turn to state the obvious and the hand that had his thermos looped around a couple of his fingers was placed on his hip, the other tapping his chin in thought. “Gael, by the way.” He introduced as he started to make his way closer to the mass slowly, not waiting for the other man to follow as he assumed he would naturally since he was going that direction anyway.

The man wasn’t quite as insightful as he had hoped, but that was alright. At least two heads were better than one when it came to situations like this. “I don’t know much either, but I spend a lot of time by the water. These little guys usually keep to themselves and look a lot less…slimy”.

He heard the man introduce himself as Gael. “Marcus” he answered back. “We’ll get each other’s life stories later, for now let’s get in there and take a closer look”. With that, Marcus and Gael trudged forwards towards the crab rave. 

It was almost as if something was controlling them all, as if they were puppets being piloted in some strange performance. Of course, that idea was ridiculous. Then again, dancing crabs were also ridiculous. If something really was controlling these crabs, Marcus really wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of coming face to face with it. Yet, on the other hand, whatever it was also needed to be stopped. He hoped it was just some sort of chemical leak and there was no supernatural force at play. He knew the fae could be very tricky and even compel humans to an extent, but not animals and not on this scale. At least, not that he knew of. Marcus. Gael made a note of it along with putting a pin in getting to know his temporary puzzle-solving partner as the duo got closer to the pseudo-swarm… Or was it just a regular swarm? How many bodies of something constituted a swarm– Okay, not now. He continued to tap on his chin as he kept his dark eyes on the darker shells of the crab rave - if that wasn’t what it was called, that’s what he was going to call it. As they walked, he tried to think of some of the bits of information his sister gave him pertaining to crabs but among those tips, he couldn’t recall particular weaknesses or ways to deter them, especially in a group this large. They got closer and he watched the mesmerizing movements of the crabs, pausing on the edge of the horde uncertainly. “Well… damn.” He breathed; it was much more intimidating now that they were so close and he felt his sore body on edge, ready to react if something happened.

Marcus felt an odd sense of calm being so near to the swarm of crabs. If they were going to be hostile towards them, they’d have attacked by now. Instead, they were just doing their own thing, vibing. Not that it made their behavior any more acceptable, it didn’t. But at least he knew they’d have time to think instead of having to focus on defending themselves. He looked to his unexpected partner who seemed to be much more nervous than he was. 

“They’re not going to hurt us”, he said matter of factly. “If they wanted to they would have by now. We have time to watch them a little bit more closely. But still be on your guard, we don’t know if there’s anything else waiting to strike. Something scarier than some crabs.” He examined them more closely. Crabs were really like an advanced form of insect, so could their minds even be manipulated? Did they even have free will to begin with, or were they simply driven by instinct? Surely there was something they could do to break them up. 

“This might sound stupid, but I want to see how deep in their trance they are. I don’t want to touch them and get any of that black gunk all over me, and I doubt you do either. Do you have anything we can throw at them to spook them off?” he asked Gael, looking at the man expectantly.

The good news was that Marcus seemed more I'm control of himself than Gael felt… the latter contributed his emotions to a handful of things, not to mention that Marcus looked more like he belonged there for some reason. Maybe it was just that the professor had never seen so many crabs in one place before in his life, especially ones that were moving as some sort of hive mind.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when Marcus asked him a question directly and he thought briefly before rummaging through his messenger bag. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to carry a bunch of inherently useless things with him so after muttering to himself, he pulled out half of a very chewed wooden pencil and his mug, still smelling of the coffee from his thermos. "Will either of these work?" He asked. While he liked that mug, he had many more at home and sometimes science required sacrifices.

Vicker’s Beach, for the most part, had been a source of comfort for Van. It was a little odd, considering the memories that congregated there, but she wasn’t going to argue with something that kept her calm. If she focused on the good, then the bad wouldn’t be so worrisome, right? Van had every intention of arriving early, but she hadn’t woken up in time. Deciding that the beach would be too busy, she opted for something close to it instead. The lighthouse wasn’t her first choice, but she had spent some time there during high school in her I’m going to be a photographer phase. It hadn’t lasted very long. 

Except, when she eventually arrived at the end of the path, her coffee in hand, she was faced with something else entirely. There were tons of crabs. And – Gael? “Gael?” Van stared at the man she only knew in passing from when he had visited Sly Slice, and then she looked to the other person. She didn’t recognize them. “Why…” She felt grossed out watching the crabs fall over each other. she didn’t know anything about the crabs, not really, just that they were plaguing the town. “Why are there so many crabs? What are they doing?” She didn’t think this was how they mated. She was entranced by the horde, not completely realizing that Gael and the unknown stranger had been deep in their own conversation. 

Still holding the items aloft, Gael heard his name being called somehow through the buzzing people and skittering crabs and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Van!” He gave her a tired but genuine smile, his expression softening as he regarded the young woman. “Hola señorita, what brings you to crab-infested beaches on this otherwise lovely day?” He asked. 

Marcus examined the chewed wooden pencil, he could still see teeth marks in it. He definitely wasn’t going to touch that, plus it was probably too small to really make enough of a commotion. Now the mug, on the other hand, would be perfect to see if the crabs follow their instincts and scatter. 

He was about to ask Gael to hand over the mug when he heard another voice call out. He turned and saw a woman in the distance, apparently trying to get the other man’s attention. He almost couldn’t believe it when he turned around and called out loudly to the woman as if they had ran into each other at the supermarket and not in front of an obsidian crab cult. He felt a bit annoyed, but still turned around and kept track of the conversation. He sensed there was more to the woman than met the eye, but he couldn’t place his finger on anything in particular. He’d have to watch her a bit more closely once this crab situation was figured out. 

“Let’s have a reunion later, right now how about you hand me that mug? We can throw it into the mob and see if they scatter.”

Van was still disgusted by the way the crabs moved over one another. She felt her stomach begin to turn at the sight, so she forced her gaze away to the other person standing next to Gael. “The other beach was full.” The disappointment in her voice was not hard to miss. The crabs skittering ahead of her were the reason she never left her house, and for good reason. What were they even doing? She could hear the clacking of their claws and legs as they ran over each other and it made Van’s skin crawl. 

“I don’t know if it was a reunion, we barely know each other.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked at Gael. “Oh, you have coffee too?” She knew she wasn’t helping the situation, that much was obvious. What she could really do, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they’d ask her for good crab recipes? Her grandma had one in a book somewhere. “Don’t they live here?” She knew the obsidian crabs were a new thing, but still. “Like, this is where they live, why do you want them to leave? Do they eat people?” She didn’t think she heard about them eating people. 

Gael offered a small nod of solemn condolence at Van’s mentioning that the ‘other beach was full’ though he wasn’t sure how serious she was about it. He also looked back at Marcus when the latter spoke up and nodded. “Oh, for sure,” He said, holding the mug out to the man. “I do have coffee,” He hummed absently, tossing the pencil back into his messenger back and holding the thermos aloft. “Helps me function.” The professor regarded the crabs this time, raising an eyebrow. “I think if they ate people, they’d have started eating people by now.” He mused aloud. “And I think the problem is the sheer number we have. And I can’t speak for anyone else but the way they’re moving is just… uncanny.” He frowned.

Dīs had taken up refuge at the base of the lighthouse, mainly to people watch, but on this particular day there seemed to be much more activity than the usual beach goer. They shouldn’t have bothered, they really should have stayed, but curiosity got the better of them so they folded their newspaper neatly and set it onto the plastic chair they’d rested on not moments before.

They looked amazingly out of place with their black robe and circular sunglasses as they strode closer to the goings on. They’d noticed the crab mass earlier and paid it no mind, but with human interruption added to the mix, their curiosity was piqued.

“I agree with her,” Dīs said once they’d reached the group. They kept their distance, but it was close enough to see the undulating mass of crabs. They found themselves fixated on the swirling pattern and how the obsidian captured glints of light across the irregularities in form. “Why do you want them to scatter?” From where they stood, it didn’t look like the crabs were bothering anyone.

Why did he want them to scatter? Because something was very clearly not right with the crabs, and they could be sick or dying for all Marcus knew. He also couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something perhaps a bit more sinister at play. After all, crabs weren’t exactly known for convening in large organized groups like this. He’d seen this behavior in humans many times, primarily in religious settings. As far as he knew, crabs tended not to have a religion. 

He was becoming a bit frustrated at being interrupted by yet another stranger butting into the situation. He should have just handled this situation by himself, he thought. He turned to the stranger and replied “I want them to scatter because this isn’t normal behavior. Usually crabs scuttle along independently from each other, not… whatever this is. It isn’t natural. I don’t want them to leave, just to not be all creepy and hive minded” He then turned to Gael and said “But if you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears buddy”, and then slapped the man on the back. He had meant the gesture as a form of encouragement, but had used a bit more force than he intended to.

With his mug surrendered to Marcus and another party introducing themselves to their merry band of wondering ideas, Gael figured that his role in this prospective play was either coming to an end or he was realizing with weariness that he wasn’t a main character. And that was fine, his body hurt. Using the lid of the thermos as a cup, he poured himself some of the hot coffee that swirled around in the container. “Mass gatherings of any animal tends to be worrying,” He agreed with Marcus. “And these ones are moving weird.” Picking up on some unresolved tension, probably due to the fact that nothing was happening, Gael was content to sip his coffee and brainstorm but he didn’t have much of a chance to when he felt a clap on his back, sending a spike of pain coursing through his body. Before he could stop himself, he grunted from the pulse and dropped his thermos lid, the contents of it splashing the sand and a couple of crabs. …And curiously, they broke from the swaying dance they participated in and did everything in their power to scurry away from the caffeinated beverage, the coffee painting the sand that previously had crab legs on it. “Wait a second,” Gael said slowly, reaching up to massage one of his shoulders and he raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward slightly, holding the thermos aloft, he tilted it just slightly enough that a little stream of coffee drizzled out of the opening. Sure enough, as it landed, the crabs hissed and scrambled, like oil to water. Tilting his head, Gael turned to regard his temporary companions. “Well?” He asked, holding the thermos for anyone else to take. “Call me crazy but I don’t think they like coffee.”

Nobody knew if the crabs ate people. That was a little worrying. But about their habits being abnormal, that was interesting to Van. Not because she cared about crabs, but because it meant that she wasn’t the only weird thing in town. Something else could take the front seat and she could watch from far, far away. Or in this case, too close. The appearance of a fourth person made her nearly jump out of her skin. He was tall and had on dark glasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes. As she opened her mouth to compliment his shades, Gael was spilling his coffee. 

Van winced in solidarity, holding her own cup close to her chest. She was distracted by the potential for a bad burn mark that she hadn’t noticed the crabs scatter at first— not until Gael had commented on it. She looked over and sure enough, they’d split into different directions. Van watched as he tested his theory once more, eyes widening as they began to venture further from where the group stood. “Who doesn’t like coffee?” The crabs, that was who. 

She didn’t necessarily want to lose her coffee to a greater purpose, but if what the men said was true— that crabs congregating as they were was wrong, then they should make it right… right? Van didn’t want to be responsible for assisting in removing the crabs from their home, a small amount of guilt bubbling in her chest already, and she held her own plastic cup out to Gael. “This one is iced so you won’t hurt yourself with it.” 

Dīs looked to the supposed leader of this crab break-up party and arched a brow. No, they weren’t impressed whatsoever. Why couldn’t people leave nature alone? What did it matter if the crabs wanted to circle walk themselves to death? Or mosh, or whatever it is they were doing. Perhaps they should have stayed at home.

“What is with you people and butting into things that may not pertain to you?” Dīs questioned, largely to the group, but to really anyone who bothered to listen. “First the mines,” their jaw clenched with that word and the memories that came with it, “and we all know what came from that. Now this? Whatever happened to observation?” Rhetorical questions, they were sure, but the fact that these strangers wanted to break up something that could be harmless was irritating at best. 

They watched as the circus only elevated in annoyance when one of their thermos lids fell into the sand. The crabs scurried from the beads of coffee that splashed across their brilliantly dark shells, seemingly in pain. Dīs scrunched up their nose with disapproval.

Marcus didn’t mean for Gael to spill his coffee onto the sand or onto the crabs, but it yielded the results he had hoped for regardless. They still had a startle and flight response, so it wasn’t as if they were completely under control of something else. He was relieved to confirm that but also felt a bit guilty that he had startled them. Still, it had to be done for science, otherwise they wouldn’t have much info to go off of. 

He was expecting a few things might make them fearful, but coffee? He theorized maybe it was the strong odor that came off of it. Was their sense of smell sensitive? He didn’t remember reading about crabs having a heightened sense of smell, but he also hadn’t read about them in quite a long time. He was more of a nature enthusiast and less of a marine biologist. In spite of this, he still saw himself as the de facto expert of the group. 

The goth stranger chastised him and the group for causing the crabs to scatter, stating that they were butting in where they didn’t belong and causing harm. Marcus knew all too well that this was one of the more unsavory traits of humanity, investigation too often leading to destruction. But, that wasn’t what they had done, right? A few crabs got spooked and broken out of what looked to be a trance, was that so bad? “It may seem a bit unnecessary, but it was in their best interests,” Marcus now turned to them. “They weren’t acting normal and we needed to investigate. Any conservationist or researcher would have done the same. I mean, you have to admit, that is NOT normal crab behavior. Besides, I didn’t mean for the coffee to spill on them”. 

He didn’t feel as though his apology went over well, but it was hard to tell behind their dark shades they were wearing. Fashionable, and also very effective in concealing your emotions. 

“Do you have an alternative, tall, dark and judgmental?” Gael turned to regard the newest member of the troupe of clowns he felt like they were all turning out to be. As he asked, he took the iced coffee from Van and his expression softened. “I’ll buy you another one, señorita,” He nodded and he glanced at the party. “Speak now or forever hold your coffee,” He announced, holding both containers out in front of him and taking a step as though to sacrifice himself to the crab gods in the hopes that it would work. 

The tall one was obviously annoyed, even Van who wasn’t all that observant could see it a mile away. She looked over at him apprehensively before averting her gaze, looking down as a lone crab began to go in the opposite direction of the others. Van didn’t know anything about the mines. Well, the only thing she did know was to stay the hell away from them. 

“Yeah, fine.” Van watched Gael approach the swarm of crabs, brows lifting in anticipation for what was to come. 

Only, instead, a distant rumbling from beneath of them sounded. She looked towards the group, brows pulled together in confusion. “Are one of you like, really hungry?”

Dīs had a bad feeling about this. Between the crabs dispersing from the coffee spill to the sudden and slow rumble that started from under their feet, none of it felt right. They’d already warned them once, now it was only a matter of time before something went belly up as it tended to do. 

They didn’t care for the apology, only the creeping feeling that crawled over their skin as they watched the coffee disperse more of the crabs once it was washed over them. The sound only grew, a feeling first before it became more of just a simple stomach gurgle. 

Dīs shook their head, “I told you to leave them alone.” They assumed the sound was connected; how could it not be? It felt like a call, a response to the crab’s circling interruption.

Marcus glanced over again at the darkly dressed stranger. They did have a point, they were told to leave the crabs alone. But it was too late now, what was done was done. The rumbling beneath them definitely couldn’t have been a good sign. Was there something underground?

He wondered if it was related to the mine at all, but thought better about suggesting another investigation. After all, this towns residents don’t have a good track record with mines. Besides, he remembered his promise to Cass not to go into any other caves, and he wasn’t sure if a mine counted as a cave. He didn’t feel like taking the gamble.

“If i didn’t know any better, id say we pissed something off. Just no idea what yet. And while I’d love to investigate, that sort of got us into this mess in the first place. Any ideas?” he asked the group vaguely.

When no one objected, Gael gave a small, sore half-shrug and moved forward, carefully stepping around the crabs and splashing the coffee to land on as few of them as possible. However, he also came to a stop when he heard (and felt) something, the something other people no doubt also heard and acknowledged. Gael rolled his eyes to himself but took a step back, turning to look over his shoulder with his brow furrowed. “I’m taking suggestions but standing around not doing anything is a hazard to a lot of people.” He motioned out to the crabs (noting that there were indeed fewer of them since his spraying the beach with the coffee), then over to the collection of beachgoers that still gathered around idly though some of them started to look at the ground themselves. “So if you’d like to actually contribute then you’re more than welcome to instead of standing there telling people what to do.”

Van stood awkwardly to the side as the men bickered amongst themselves. She should have just kept going, she decided. It was dumb to stop. She could be at home watching something by now if she hadn’t let her curiosity get the better of her. 

She still had no idea what was happening, or where the noise had come from. Part of Van thought she had imagined it altogether. She paused momentarily, listening to Gael as he spoke. ”What are we supposed to do? Shouldn’t we call animal control for something like this?” That made the most sense. What would four totally normal people need to do with mass amounts of crabs skittering around? It wasn’t their job to do anything. “They’re just crabs,” Van repeated, mirroring her earlier sentiment. 

Dīs did their best to keep everything under wraps. There was too much of a crowd to lose their cool there, despite this interjection into wildlife’s path feeling much like an injustice. They felt for the crabs, but what could they do then and there? Their faces were kept in remembrance for future gleanings. Dīs crossed their arms. “It certainly sounds like it,” they agreed, glad that at least one of them seemed to understand even if it was too late. The other man, on the other hand, grated on their nerves.

“I did contribute and you chose to ignore my warning. I told you to leave them alone and now there’s something else going on. But if you want another suggestion, I agree with her,” Dīs pointed to the young woman, again agreeing with her sentiment. “One of you should call animal control, since you want to do something so badly about the crabs.” They weren’t just crabs, but nothing good ever came out of snooping where one shouldn’t snoop. Upset, Dīs was ready to leave the brainless on the beach with their crabs. They didn’t want to bicker anymore about something so stupid.

Marcus wasn’t really sure animal control was going to go wrangling up a bunch of loose crabs on the beach, nor did he think it would really do any good. His main concern, at this point, was now on the rumbling underground. He could hear it getting louder. It was to the point where he began to feel vibrations in his feet and couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something was very wrong here, and it extended beyond a weird crab cult. 

“I think the crabs are the least of our concern now. After all, like you said, they weren’t hurting anybody. But the last time I checked, Maine isn’t anywhere near any fault lines. So I think my biggest concern right now is whatever’s causing this rumbling sound. We should probably evacuate the people standing nearby, and then get out of here ourselves. I don’t want to end up becoming one with the earth just yet”. 

Tired, sore and finding himself starting to get frustrated by being told what to do by some goth stranger standing on the sidelines, Gael took a deep inhale, muttered under his breath in Spanish (something about “dumb” and “bossy”) and abandoned his endeavor, handing Van her cup that still had a little bit of coffee in it and closing up his own thermos. Normally he wasn’t like this… he attributed his sour behavior to the lack of caffeine and the fact that he felt like he got hit by a truck the night before. Despite being tired and sore, however, something different seeped into Gael’s bones and thumped into his ears as well as he regarded the crabs that, for all intents and purposes, no longer seemed to be moving in unison - now it was the rumbling that traced up his nerves. “It’s probably just tectonic shifts in the ocean,” He shrugged, casually playing off that he didn’t like the sensation either; fortunately, science tended to have his back on these, even if bigger earthquakes weren’t common up north. No use worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet though and he stowed the thermos in his bag, irritated and wanting to go back to bed. And to think this had started as such a lovely day on the beach. “A better plan then saying what everyone else should do without doing anything yourself.” Gael said pointedly, placing a hand on his shoulder and popping his neck. “I’ll start with that group,” He pointed to a chunk of people and without waiting for permission, started to motion with his hands in a general gesture, calling something to them along the lines of “let’s go, it’s a good idea to leave”.

Van looked over as the man spoke about evacuating. Dumbstruck, she took the cup back from Gael as he handed it over. There was barely any left– not enough to give her a caffeine buzz, at least. She’d need to pick up a redbull later to stay awake fully. Despite her confusion, she was glad that the string bean goth guy was agreeing with her. At least somebody was taking her word for it was and wasn’t treating her like a complete kid. 

However, Van’s confusion dissipated as the rumbling got louder. She was sure it wasn’t anybody’s stomach this time. Gael said something scienc-y, which was totally like him, and she held onto the fact that might not be a fact, but an assumption as if it were a lifeline. It made sense. Of course it did. “So we are… asking people to leave?” Van looked over at Gael for confirmation before looking between the other two, her stomach doing somersaults at what an earthquake could potentially mean for Wicked’s Rest. “I’ll go with you,” Van pointed at Gael, quickly heading to his side. 

Fault lines, tectonic plates — it all sounded wrong, but even they didn’t know what could be making that ever growing rumbling. Dīs didn’t feel like arguing anymore, especially not with a new curiosity. They were certainly going to explore the copious caverns later. Right now, though, they supposed they needed to vacate the beach.

And to think, it all started with some crabs.

Dīs turned from the Three Stooges and came face to face with a lingering crowd, whom, despite the growing growl from beneath the grown, stayed around to see what lasting spectacle they could find. Dīs grimaced and slithered their way through the group, refusing to acknowledge any of their wandering stares or help them vacate in any way, shape, or form. They all made their beds, for all they cared.

[muertarte]

PARTIES: @muertarte @thenavysealkie

TIMING: Last Week

SUMMARY: Metzli decides to go on a little hunt and tricks Marcus into thinking they need help with a drunkard. They don't! Marcus becomes a snack.

WARNINGS: Unsanitary, Alcohol, Eye Trauma

Metzli found themself in need of a fresh meal, an exciting hunt to grace their fangs into flesh. They had been good lately, taking out forgers and getting rid of them by feeding their friend. It wasn’t the same. Control was something they had an abundance of, but even Metzli, the robot, had to let the shackles recede. So they set out to lurk. Sit quietly on a bench, under a streetlamp they took out just outside the Short & Stout Brewery.

They sat quietly, watching as a man stumbled his way to the shrubbery only feet away from their seat. It was nice when the food delivered itself. In a matter of minutes, they found their unsuspecting donor— who apparently was drunkenly attempting to urinate in the shadows. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the one. Metzli had higher standards than that.

Regardless, he was too close for comfort, so they quietly rushed in and pushed his head into the shrub that was nearly a victim. He fell unceremoniously to the ground, immediately unconscious. That befuddled Metzli momentarily, believing it would take a lot more to incapacitate him. With a shrug, they went back to surveying, catching someone who was standing a little easier, not urinating, and alone. Perfect. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Metzli took on the role of an innocent civilian, waving the man down. “Man has fallen.” They pointed, “Help?”

Marcus enjoyed a fun night at the brewery. There was music, dancing, and laughter, but nothing too overwhelming like some of the other bars in town. Sure, you’d get the occasional drunk asshole who overdid it, but they were still few and far between. In spite of this, Marcus watched as a man shakily rose from his seat and stumbled over to piss in a nearby bush. As the man left his field of view, he turned his attention back to his drink. 

Some people just have no respect for the world around them, he thought to himself. He remembered what it was like, swimming in the vast ocean in his true seal form, before being unceremoniously choked by a sea of garbage floating in his path. He supposed the alcohol level in the drunkard’s urine couldn’t have been good for the shrub he was relieving himself into but it certainly wasn’t his place to start a fight over something like that.  

His thoughts were soon interrupted by a person rushing towards him and trying to grab his attention. They pointed over to where the man had disappeared to earlier and explained that the man had fallen over. Shocking, Marcus thought to himself. 

“Help?” the person asked him, looking at Marcus expectantly. 

He was sure having the man wake up face first in a patch of grass soaked in his own urine was probably the wake up call the man needed, but the person in front of them seemed distressed and worried for the man’s safety. He sighed, and looked over to where the person was pointing. 

“Alright, but he’s probably dead weight. I’m going to need to find a little help to drag him back over here.”

The man smelled…better than most. Alcohol permeated the air, nearly tainting the nearly divine smell that his blood had. Even without it exposed and readily available more Metzli to consume, they could feel their fang’s desire to extend. Tensing their body in an attempt at control, they sighed, making sure not to breathe in. 

“Not dead.” Metzli stated bluntly, taking the stranger’s statement too literally. “But I can help. Am strong.” They waved for the man to follow, needing the whole situation to transpire faster. Once the two of them were under the cover of darkness, they’d strike. He just needed to get there first. 

“Grab arms?” They asked, reaching the man who was snoring away without a care in the world. Metzli grimaced, disgusted by the scene. How anyone could drink that much was beyond them, but that didn’t really matter. Dinner was close. “Can grab legs. Or switch? Tell me which you want.” They opened and closed their fist, excitement pricking their skin like ants. Just a little more.

Marcus eyed the person in front of them with curiosity. They were certainly unique in their mannerisms, and that rang true for more than just their odd manner of speech. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit when the phrase “dead weight” seemed to just go over their head. Marcus made a mental note not to use “over their head” around them so they wouldn’t start looking above themself. 

As they beckoned him to follow he slowly made his way over, not too thrilled with having to haul some drunk back towards the bar. He caught a glimpse of the man as he snored loudly, somehow completely undisturbed by the situation. The effects that a strong drink and an undoubtedly damaged liver had on the mind never ceased to surprise him. He hesitated only briefly to watch the pitiable sight, before shrugging his shoulders and approaching the man. 

“Right, let’s make this quick. Once we start moving this guy around there’s a good chance he’s going to vomit on one of or both of us. That being said, I’ll take the legs. Further away from his mouth that way”.

There was a twitch from the man, signs of hesitation blanketing him, weighing down his decision to help. Metzli couldn’t blame him. The pungent smell of the drunkard’s mess nearly pushing him away. Lucky for the vampire though, his need to help persisted, bringing him closer to where Metzli needed him. Darkness consumed them both, the perfect moment for them to pounce fast approaching. “Mhm…arms for me then.”

Metzli allowed their meal to take the lead, get in front of them for a better vantage point. It all fell into place, time moving just a bit slower as Metzli watched him kneel. That was the moment. It was perfect. Pouncing, Metzli pushed the two of them a few feet away, purposely missing the smelly mess, and landing the two in a dryer patch of earth. They rolled several times with the vampire landing on top, straddling his torso and holding him down by his throat. 

“You can fight,” They muttered, “But is pointless.”

In an instant, Marcus found himself knocked to the ground, pinned by the seemingly frail stranger who now was easily overpowering him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar position, being bested by a physically superior opponent. Still, he couldn’t help but be astonished at the strength this person exuded. He didn’t have much time to think about the unexpected strength, however, as their hands soon found his throat. 

Marcus, to his credit, was no pushover. He was physically in the prime of his life and was in great condition. He certainly had the muscles to show for it. Still, pushing with all of his might, he didn’t seem to be able to make his assailant budge. It was then that his military training kicked into overdrive. If you can’t overpower your opponent through strength alone, always search for alternative methods of gaining the upper hand. 

It may have been dirty and underhanded, but Marcus felt himself losing oxygen fast. Quickly, he thrust a thumb from each hand into each eye of his would-be assassin. With a yelp, they reared back, giving Marcus enough of a window to twist his body and free himself from the hold they had on him. Rising to his feet, he met his adversary eye to somewhat injured eye. 

Metzli hissed in pain as they rushed backwards, hand rushing to their face as their sight filled with darkness. “Mierda…” Involuntary tears welled in their eyes as they attempted to breathe in a soothing pattern to quell their pain as they refocused on the man. They rolled over their shoulder and blindly went for another tackle only finding purchase for a brief moment. At first, they wanted to just continue the pattern, maybe mindlessly punch at the man, but by every standard, that would be ineffective.

Struggling to see, the vampire pondered for a few moments, trying to find the correct course of action. Using their knife would kill their meal too soon, make the blood not as good. But maybe playing dirty would work. An eye for an eye. Yes, that was it. Quickly, Metzli blinked their vision back and grabbed ahold of their knife, throwing it toward their prey’s quad muscle and meeting their mark. It wasn’t meant to be fatal. 

Just…a distraction. 

Enough of one to give them time to grip a fistful of dirt and throw it into the man’s eyes. This granted Metzli the perfect opportunity to yoink an arm and hook their leg over it. They gained momentum, and took perch on his shoulders to hold him still as he sank to the ground. With a smile, Metzli held him in place as they maneuvered him into their chest, finally sinking their teeth into his neck.  

Marcus still couldn’t wrap his head around why this random stranger had attacked him. Just as suddenly as he could process what was happening, this stranger was biting into his neck. Sharp pain came from Marcus’s neck, causing him to yell out in pain. He figured this person must be an escaped inmate from some nearby asylum, or on some very powerful drugs. Maybe a mixture of both. It didn’t matter, he knew that he needed to act quickly. 

Marcus made a fist with one hand and swung around, landing a blow to his attacker’s nose while they were busy feasting. The momentum was enough for him to once again break free from their grasp and get some distance between the two of them before they were done tending to their own bleeding nose. Marcus placed a hand over his neck where the bite had occurred and was puzzled to find two very small puncture wounds, very unlike any wound human teeth would leave.  

He knew that it would be unwise to stand his ground this time around, so instead Marcus opted to run away. Not towards the people and the bar, mind you, he didn’t want anybody to potentially be caught in the path of this psycho. Instead, he ran towards the cover of nearby trees. He would use the woods and the cover of night to his advantage, attempting to hide from his assailant until it was safe to make his getaway. 

There, unfortunately, was one more problem that he had to contend with. When they bit into his neck, they must have been very accurate and hit an artery. He was unfortunately losing quite a bit of blood and his running and general panic wasn’t helping that in any way. He started feeling dizzy, but fought the feeling as much as he could. He needed cover, and fast.

Injuries were inevitable in any hunt. It was something every hunter had to get used to if they were going to do it avidly. Regardless, when it did happen, Metzli was always so annoyed, yet so excited. Food fighting back, they learned from their time with Honey, could make it all the more fun. And this meal in particular appeared to have some sort of training. He was following instinct, sure, but there was more to it. 

Each move was deliberate and had tinge of experience in the force that was applied. The strike to the Metzli’s nose, in particular, was rather practiced. So much so that they hardly minded the way their nose broke. All in all, the prey was impressive, making it almost sad to be taking the life away. But, the vampire was hungry. There wasn’t much room to care enough to stop, let alone not give chase.

Metzli watched as the man sprinted away, massaging their nose back into place. Thanks to the blood they had already consumed, they could already feel it repairing itself slowly. They waited a few more beats, letting the man get a headstart to whatever hiding spot he deemed worthy. It wouldn’t work. Metzli would just follow his scent and then he’d be done for. It was only a matter of time until he felt too dizzy to continue anyway, and they wanted to get to him before that happened.

Finally ready, Metzli charged forward and followed the trail of blood the wounded prey left behind. They found him in no time at all, and that had them a bit miffed. One push and the man was on the ground. How boring. A small grumble escaped them, and they rolled their eyes with a sigh as they crouched next to the human. Metzli stared as they dragged their tongue over their fangs while they assessed. The whole ordeal was anticlimactic. There was no more fun to be had, and therefore no use in finishing the job. “Hmm…” They could just leave, couldn’t they? There was no one around. 

Marcus awoke very early the next morning in a daze. His whole body ached severely, but his neck seemed to hurt him the most. He looked down at his body and noted dried blood staining his clothes, arm, and the ground beneath him. He couldn’t help but wonder just what the hell had happened to him, he tried to recall the events from the night before but couldn’t seem to. He had been in a few physical altercations in his time, but none that left him quite this sore. He also always at least remembered the ordeal afterwards, whether he won or lost. He figured he must have taken a pretty nasty blow to the head, but now wondered who could have picked a fight with him. Sure, he was drinking a bit last night, but not excessively. He knew he wouldn’t have been the one to initiate a fight with somebody, at least not anymore. 

Marcus attempted to stand on very wobbly legs, and braced himself against a tree to give himself more support. He had never felt so weak in his life. Whoever he fought last night, they had beaten him, and beaten him badly. He found this odd, as his stature and training should have made him one of the more adept fighters in Wicked’s Rest. This observation could at least narrow down the list of possible suspects, but figuring out who it was would have to wait for later. Right now, his head hurt far too much to be able to think critically. Right now, his main focus was on trying to put one foot in front of the other and make it back home. Slowly, awkwardly he shuffled his way back towards town. 

It was still the early twilight hours, and there wasn’t a soul out and about in Wicked’s Rest. At least, none that he could see. Good, he figured. Nobody was around to see the bloodied man stumbling across town. Probably for the best, as it isn’t like telling people what happened would be helpful in any way. What would he say? “Help, I got into a fight with somebody and I can’t remember who. Why yes, I was drinking, but not a lot I swear!” He elected to spare himself the embarrassment. He had already had more than his fair share of that. Instead, he wobbled back towards home for a proper rest after what was evidently a very difficult night.