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Dayn was no stranger to heat. The destruction of fire, the kind that had set his prison ablaze, what granted his freedom as a teenager and lived within the burn scars slowly fading with age, the ones that had snaked up his right foot when the attempt to yank him back to his personal hell. The burning passion that shot through him on nights with exes, where the only thing they had in common was the physical. One night stands he would never see again, finding temporary, heated bliss for the night.

What he didn't often have was warmth, traveling up through his fingers and back, feeling it in his ears, the slow but steady rush of blood to his head in tandem with the coldness of the air, both pinkening his cheeks, but the former just about melting the snow out of the area they sat in. Dayn liked the way it stuck with him, made it feel like he was a flower blooming in the embrace of the sun.

Hopefully his face reflected the same. Charlie looked almost confused as to him stopping, and that made him feel far more confident than he was at the start of this. Maybe he wasn't totally screwing something up here. He tried not to think too much here, not wanting his own doubt to creep in and ruin things. A noise of surprise escaped him, passed from his lips to hers, when she upped the ante and he found himself letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her back, finding her practically in his lap. Those two magic words were clear as day to him, ringing around in his ears like a bell. "Yes, ma'am."

Dayn stood then, and took her with him. It would be counterproductive to have her face blocking his view, what with the ice and the fact that he still wasn't totally sure he knew this place that well yet. He could almost see the gas station from where they were, though, so it wasn't a difficult hike. When he lifted Charlie, he did so using mostly his right side, spare hand guiding her legs around him for sake of ease. He didn't want to let go of her, but the middle of the street was probably not the best place for this - realistically, a shoddy studio apartment over an old gas station convenience store probably wasn't either, but he'd have to work with it.

A brisk pace towards the destination, his head tilted towards Charlie's, to where his temple rested against her. "Choices are either mattress on the floor or old couch," he joked, as they got closer to the building. "Still working on the interior decorating skills here."

Charlie often thought of how time in this place either never passed or passed too quickly; how some things could stay the same forever (the buildings, the hate that festered in shadows, creatures that never aged) and others changed in the blink of an eye (who you were, what you felt, how you thought). She thought of it again now, in the way that she had just met Dayn, but felt like she knew him all the same. There was something familiar in the heat that grew between them, in the subtle tenseness of his brows that came from ignoring the places of your mind that were tinged with the smoke of painfully incinerated memories, and one Charlie had seen in her own reflection.

She knew, then, that they were like grass sprouting through the ashes of a wildfire, or moss growing on lightening struck trees: They were people that made the best of the circumstances in the aftermath of a fire, people that clawed back charred soil to let the earth of their souls breathe. She knew him in the same way she knew herself; intimately and not at all. In this moment she found she didn't want to know him and she didn't want to know herself, she wanted to know who they were if neither of them knew where one of them ended and the other began. The chord of fear resonated in her chest, harmonized by one of equal confusion, and Charlie did her best to ignore them. The distance between them kept shrinking. Charlie wondered if it would ever be possible to crawl into another person and rest there and live there and die there, blissful and unaware of the outside world.

She kept her eyes on him as he pulled back, wanting to know if this was okay, if he was okay, if there was any part of him doing this out of pity. But in his eyes she saw the want, the need, the joy: A mirror, he was always reflecting her. His lips on her injury was nearly Charlie's undoing, bringing a wave of fear and doubt crashing into the gates of desire she was currently letting herself feel. It held. She would not let herself deny the heat of flames that was Dayn's lips on hers, his fingers touching her, the intoxicating smell of wet pavement on a hot day that enveloped her, thicker than smoke. She nodded fervently and pushed forward to kiss him again, closing the space between them to straddle him. She deepened it, one hand coming up to the side of his face to balance herself.

A breath against his lips, foreheads touching, and two words spoken in a whisper to answer his question and yet to also mean save me, help me, have me.

"Take me."

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This is what Dayn was far more comfortable with, way more used to. After this, there was no part of him that was at all concerned with any sort of "what are we?" type of conversations, knowing that this was a one night only type of deal - and he was totally cool with that. They had all night to be stuck in here with the things outside, so this wouldn't be much of a one and done deal anyway - had to make it count throughout the night. He liked the feeling he was getting from her, one that felt confident and the imbalance of her being a guard, and him just a lowly bartender, had him excited, that much eager to do her bidding.

Maybe it was the constant looming threat of death separated only by some walls and windows. Something about it made everything that much more heightened.

Dayn sunk to his knees easily - the view from down here reminding him why it was that people were so keen to fall to religion - her hands cold, yet hot on his shoulders, feeling them through his shirt. Which was quickly pulled at from behind his neck, yanked over his head and tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder to the chair behind, the one he had sat across from her earlier. He kissed her back with equal fervor, her heels in his back pressing him ahead and keeping him grounded, to not think about what was lurking outside those walls - if they could see inside somehow through here, at least they were getting a show.

His hands each found the insides of her thighs, slowly caressing upwards, stopping high, but not quite yet where he was sure she wanted him to be. Instead they swept around, yanking her closer, so his face was nearly pressed up against her abdomen. There, over her clothes, he kissed her stomach. He kissed lower, at her pelvic bone. Before his neck would crane too harshly, he glanced up. "A little help here, if you don't mind?" he requested, voice sweet with innocence, catching whatever piece of clothing was closest with his teeth and pulling, then letting go, to exaggerate the problem.

reyna’s eyes tracked dayn’s movements, following his lead with measured curiosity. her frustration still simmered beneath the surface—having to babysit a grown man was hardly her idea of a productive evening. yet there was something satisfying, almost primal, in watching her light demands met without hesitation. control hummed at the tip of her tongue, a weight she wielded with ease. intimacy had always been a comfortable game for reyna, a mutual exchange to fill the void of idle time. vulnerable heartstrings ? those were territories she never dared venture into. physicality ? that was different. simple. tangible. moments without the burden of emotional entanglements or overthought meanings—a reprieve.

she sat still in her chair. a slow arch of her brow, head tilted just slightly to the side, reyna's gaze softened, inviting whatever came next between them. the tension was palpable, simmering like a spark waiting to catch fire. what about me... the words lingering in the charged air between them. her arm extended, index finger deftly hooking through one of dayn’s belt loops. she tugged him closer, the anticipation curling warmth through her chest, rising to flush her cheeks. simplicity reigned—a game of nearness, desire, and silent understanding.

breath caught as his lips grazed her jawline, igniting a tension she struggled to suppress. a groan threatened to escape, but she swallowed it down, determined not to yield. dayn's willingness to submit to her touch sent a surge of heat through reyna, compelling her hands to explore the hard planes of his chest, craving more — craving him closer. with a deliberate push, she guided him lower. "on your knees," she commanded again, her voice low but resolute, every syllable charged with authority. her head tilted slightly, as though savoring the lingering echo of her own words.

reyna’s legs parted, curling around dayn, enclosing the dwindling space between them. the press of their clothing was an unbearable boundary, frustrating her need for contact. so close, his breath warm against her skin, fingers mapping the curve of her waist as though memorizing her. her own hands traced the strong lines of his arms, appreciating the power beneath his skin, yet delicate with her. the thin thread of control she clung to frayed with each ragged breath, each tremor of her chest.

"i want you," she murmured against his cheek, her voice raw with need. nuzzling into dayn, seeking his lips until they met in a kiss steeped in fervor. there was nothing timid about it — no hesitation. reyna's tongue skimmed his bottom lip before slipping past, exploring, claiming against his own. one hand wove through the silky strands of his hair, anchoring him to the intensity of the moment as her body demanded more, dissolving the last remnants of restraint.

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A single nod in response. A one syllable name was easy enough. It was starting to get refreshing, in an odd way, to show his face and say his own name without some look of familiarity crossing in the other person's eyes, a tip-of-the-tongue experience as he watched the gears turn in their heads, trying to place how they know him, from where. It was getting easier to say his own name, day by day. In a backwards, annoying way, he had Arcadia to thank for that. "So I've been told," he said, letting the observational insult roll off his shoulders. In the last few weeks before getting lost in this town, he'd been eating less, working out less. The stress of the trial had gotten to him.

A flare raised in his mind, a red alarm momentarily blaring as Dayn was touched, not expecting it. There was something else placed in his hand just as quickly, otherwise he'd be jerking his hand back as if he was on fire. It took a moment for him to catch up with what it exactly was that she was asking from him, and it was met with a brief hesitation. "Well, that depends on the plant, doesn't it?" he said, eyeing the items now in his hand. "I don't think even I can kill it within a night, so what the hell, fine."

In view of her erratic body language,   he is loose.     Neither chagrined tooth nor hand-clenched shoulder.     There is just the partridge proffering fat worm to idling cat.     He placates the wound of you.     Proximity without met hands,   the coupled prayer for some clouded God.     For allowance’s sake.     A try,   and another.     You are still taut,   despite,   and fester beyond his balanced inflection:   rebounded into your gaunt one.     ‘   Dayn.   ’     A single syllable for a simple intrusion,   trailing from vowel to murmur in less than a sound.     The simplest name fashioned from the simplest word.     Day,   end.     She pauses momentarily,   like she’s considering him,   and then snorts loudly.     ‘   You are built like a twig.   ’     The empty pot in-hand appears in front of them.     Her hand grabs his wrist and yanks it to encircle his hand around ceramic.     ‘   So you’ll speak nicely to the babies.     This one will be named Mimi.     ‘Cause it snores cutely like mi-mi-mi-mi.   ’     Another merry-go-round moment,   dirty-hands and unfound care,   and she presents a bulb with thin roots,   to wedge unceremoniously within his new task.      ‘   If it dies   ––   well,   it won’t.     Right?   ’

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Dayn was a bit disgusted with himself in the way that this was surely not like him at all. It would have been honeyed words and a sweet smile, easygoing movements and shared laughter until they were back at one of their places, pulled together until the morning. Even his exes; they were long winded versions of that. He'd never been nervous around the idea of intimacy... not for a long time. What made this so different? Their friendship? He hadn't even been here that long.

When he pulled away, it’s like he turned right into uncharted territory - not the well worn familiar path, but one where he couldn’t see two inches in front of him, the darkness of the unknown yet he couldn’t quite understand why that felt more comfortable. It had him wanting to pull away further, to release her hands and go back to their conversations before. But the one thing Dayn was undoubtedly sure of in his life was that the past couldn't be changed. Why do you want it changed?

At first, Dayn let out the tiniest breath, an exhale of relief at the words. It's okay. Words alone that he interpreted as forgiveness, for upsetting the balance. A nod, and a smile - more genuine than he's had in her presence. Even with someone like Charlie, someone who he had gotten so close with in such little time, there was a façade. There always was, he thought, no matter who it was. It was a habitual second skin, and perhaps why he felt so thrown off. An extra layer so that his nerves didn't jump so high, and Charlie was steadily peeling them away, whether she knew it or not. A loaded look exchanged between eyes alone, as quick as it was, confirmed it all.

Because then she kissed him. His smile blurred into her lips. Dayn let go of one of her hands so that one of his could sneak around her waist, unconsciously sliding himself forward on his seat and easing the two of them closer. Before he could deepen it any further, he pulled back just a bit. Just to breathe, until he lifted her hand and lightly kissed the wound on her hand, the stitches where her finger used to be. "I don't live far from here, you know" he murmured, eyes alight. "But I'm also totally fine to just keep doing this."

There's nothing here to be afraid of. Charlie wanted so desperately to believe him, to let truth seep into those words until she was forced to know them as facts. This place dug itself into the recesses of Charlie's mind: Its screams echoed, its blood cascaded down the corridors of her thoughts, she was perpetually running from it even in brief moments of reprise like this one. It haunted her even when she felt she had two feet grounding her in reality. And it was always loud.

Except now. In this moment. Where one second there was space, and the next there was none. Thoughts were eclipsed, replaced by warmth and softness. Unexpected, but not unwelcomed. A pause, a lull, her mind went quiet. It rushed back in all at once, the cold, the thoughts, the space. With it, the confusing pull of wanting to close it again that sent the muscles of her core tightening. Her brows furrowed and she searched his face for intentions, wondered if knowing them would help her feel less confused. They were friends, weren't they? And yet her fingers hummed to pull him closer, her heart hammered in her chest, words seemed too distant to be conjured.

She shook her head at his word and squeezed his hands with her still interlocked ones. "It's okay," she said, voice soft and careful, like being any louder would break the spell of peace Dayn had somehow woven around them with his touch. It's okay, she expressed, in her gaze, in her touch, in the inhale of a breath before the snap of a lean forward, like an elastic band, crossing what felt like infinite space only to pause inches from his face. One last look into his eyes that seem to mirror her in sadness, uncertainty, doubt. In return she fixes her gaze in acceptance, permission, a request for more. And then Charlie kisses him.

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Dayn seemed to relax, then. This was the first time he’d have to give the rundown of this place to a newcomer, and he understood the stress that burden came with it in the moment. Moreso, if the one he was giving the “speech” to, so to speak, was someone whose safety he cared deeply about. The goal was to make sure he understood the direness of their situation, and Dayn was fairly certain the point went across. From him, and from the story Joel recounted, there was no doubts now, surely.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said. Joel knew how Dayn felt about hospitals. One of his most vivid memories in his life was after he was found, when he wouldn’t cooperate with any tests or needles or anything unless Joel could stay with him overnight. It was the least they could do for a screaming, traumatized teenager who hadn’t seen his family in four years. But since then, hospitals made him stiff with discomfort. “I don’t see why we can’t.” Who was going to stop them from walking out?

He was ready to head out the door when Joel spoke again and he turned, waiting by the doorframe while his twin collected himself. “I wasn’t, I was hitchhiking,” he confessed. Dayn hadn’t taken a car, just a bunch of busses and the kindness of one long haul trucker. “I called you, then I was walking, trying to find a bus stop. Found this place instead.”

Of all the things Joel had to be thankful for, the buildings that protected them was certainly on the top of that list. For whatever reason those things didn’t seem to go inside or they’d all be done for. It made him wonder about the town but he let the thoughts go with a shrug of his shoulder. “No, it’s- it helps. At least it’s good to know.” He said, doing his best to sound somewhat optimistic despite the chaos in his brain. He’ll get there, surely. For the moment he was just tired. 

Joel took survey of his body, moving his shoulders and neck around, then his back and shifted on the cot. “I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with me.” His shoulders and legs felt a little more stiff than usual, and he certainly had a wave of discomfort spread throughout his body. Dehydration perhaps, which would explain the dryness and slight lightheadedness. “We should be able to go. Maybe we should ask one of them?” Joel nodded towards the doctors, though by the look of things it didn’t seem like he would need to sign release papers or go through great lengths to not be able to leave. 

“Are you-?” his thoughts immediately switched to glance over his twin's frame, running through every cut and scrape he saw that hadn’t been there previously. A breath of relief left his body as he came up empty in the injury department so he went on with his inquisition, “And you? You're alright too, right? Did you drive straight into town? How did you make it here?” 

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Dayn was surely playing with fire, he knew that much. He didn't know much about the guards, the hunters, the scouts, other than they had a type of responsibility he both didn't want and was ill-equipped to handle. To him, they felt in a different league. Four years was a long time to keep people safe day in and day out, at the potential expense of one's own. He sure couldn't do it. She could have easily told him to shove off and cuff him against something for the night like they did the first night he arrived here, when he was too unruly for logical thinking. In a way, he probably wasn't thinking logically here, and was definitely not doing a great job at keeping himself together.

His eyes followed her face as she stood from her chair, easily letting himself get pushed backwards. A hand found her arm, light and inviting, while his other found the underside of her thigh. Hips over his, he grinned, unabashedly, the little smirk almost inviting her fingers over his throat to squeeze - he would gladly cave under that sort of pressure. Dayn laughed then, low and agreeable, waiting until she had stood off of him before he got up himself. "You don't have to tell me twice." That closet was right past the bar, and it took him very little time at all to stride across the floor of the room, to the rapidly falling asleep patron and sling an arm over his shoulders, leading him into the closet. Though he had to treat this with some care, given that this was a whole other person, the temptation to just toss him in there and lock the door was strong. But Dayn let him down gently onto the old tile, rushing to the back of the bar where he left spare blankets and pillows and tossing one of each to the closet. The chair was pushed against the door, under the doorknob, just like she commanded requested.

When it was finally just the two of them, standing further apart now, his brows quirked up a bit, stepping forward with the corners of his mouth slowly turning upward. "So then what about me?" he asked, inching closer, until he was close enough to gently slide his hands over hips, leaning his head down. "What do you want from me?" Control could be all hers, here, so long as he didn't end up in a closet somewhere himself. All bets were off then. His head dipped down a bit to kiss at her jaw, right under her ear, fingers grazing up her ribs. "Something like this?"

reyna stilled, caught adrift on dayn’s words, her thoughts swirling with the same lingering wonder. the night stretched—an unyielding expanse for eyes unwilling to surrender to sleep. restless nights often found reyna tracing cracks and shadows on the ceiling, insomnia binding her to wakefulness. when not prisoner to sleeplessness, she kept watch, safeguarding the town from unseen dangers. tonight had been mercifully uneventful. a drunken fool, two sober caretakers, and an unexpected spark of intimacy. dayn’s voice, low and languid, brushed against her ear, coaxing her mind into forbidden territory.

what sort of lover was dayn ? the thought slipped in unbidden, unspooling vivid questions. the raw force of his earlier fight made her wonder—did he favor roughness ? would his grip tighten possessively around her throat, one hand steadying her hips with unrestrained fervor ? her gaze flickered to the polished bar counter. would he press her against it, lay her upon the very surface that bore the weight of weary patrons’ drinks and woes of the town ? perhaps there was restraint hidden beneath his bravado, a gentleness tempered. would he take his time, explore her slowly, filling the endless minutes of night with deliberate touch ? had he thought of sliding his hand higher up her thigh earlier as she dressed his wound ? flirtatious, but how much of his charm was empty air—and how much brimming with intent ?

“how about—” the thoughts teetered on the edge of indulgence, but reyna reeled herself back. she should keep the line firm—duty demanded vigilance, not temptation. yet...temptation thrived on familiarity, and after four long years of identical nights, vigilance wore thin. her hand moved without thought, firm yet deliberate, sliding up dayn’s chest to his shoulder as she pushed him back into his seat. proximity clouded judgment, and for a moment, rationality was cast to the wind. “you do that,” she murmured, rising from her stool only to straddle dayn’s lap with ease. her tone remained low, commanding. “but put him in the storage pantry. no windows.” even the drunken fool demanded a measure of trust. reyna’s hands glided around dayn’s neck, her breath warm as her chin dipped, bringing her lips perilously close to his. “and wedge a chair under the handle,” she continued, her voice silk-threaded steel. “so he stays put until I let him out.” her lips grazed his as she spoke, teasing yet resolute. a moment passed, taut and heavy, before the brunette exhaled and slid off dayn's lap, returning to her stool as though nothing had transpired. he could do with it what he wanted. the echo of temptation lingered, but reyna sat poised, the flicker of command still burning in her gaze.

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It typically worked in the past. Waking him up too early with quiet reassurance to go back to bed, that the nightmare Dayn had wasn't related to what Joel thought it was. Or even closer, when he got the letter in the mail that Arthur was up for parole, telling Joel it didn't matter to him, that he knew the man wouldn't get it, but nevertheless kept him awake until the sun rose the next day.

Fucking Arcadia, and fuck those creatures, making the possible impossible now. Joel wasn't stupid; he was the smarter of the two, actually, in Dayn's opinion. Dayn was just always playing the role of indifference for the sake of normalcy. The only other person that knew about what Dayn endured, besides himself and his tormentor, were their mom. But even then, she and him never spoke about it, so he doubted anything got passed along to Joel through that channel. She wanted to get back on with their lives as quickly as Dayn did in the years after, to her credit.

His jaw tensed a bit at Joel saying his name in that tone, but he still shuffled the cards. They curled under his hands, flipping through until they were pushed together. If he just kept going with something so mundane and regular, maybe Joel would lose his nerve and let it die. Because the rapid movements of the cards were surely hiding the way Dayn's hands were shaking. His sweatshirt was loose enough for Joel not to notice the faster rise and fall of his chest, too.

Dayn glanced up at Joel - at his expression, at his hands, at everything. Shit. His ears felt hot, as if he felt embarrassed, despite knowing full well there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It just felt like he was a bug under a microscope, every bit and piece of him under scrutiny now. His lips parted, ready to speak, but Joel seemed to read his mind then with that bold "Don't", so he shut it defiantly. He shuffled through the cards one more time, before taking the deck and not very gently slapping them against the floor. "I saw him, Joel," he said, plainly, looking him straight in the eye, as if to challenge him to elaborate. "How he was from back then. Happy? It's your deal." The deck was slid across, and he put his hands in his hoodie's pockets then, eyes practically burning a hole through the cards.

Joel pressed his lips together, watching as his brother moved about the room. He could feel his body growing colder by the second as realization began to set in, but what could he have possibly done in the moment? His gaze turned towards the window, staring past it as if he’d be able to see what his brother saw. As if he could will himself to see it just so that he could offer a more comfortable response than what he could muster in the moment. 

He had always hated the feelings that took over when his brother dealt with things he wasn’t able to comprehend. Trying to talk about it had proven a nightmare in their youth, and over the years Joel had done his best to respect Dayn’s boundaries. After he learned more what his brother went through, Joel could understand not wanting to relieve it for everyone around him. The police had been one thing, but the plethora of news outlets or family and friends continuous inquiries. None of those mattered. Even Joel’s curiosity wasn’t a good enough reason for Dayn to speak on things. 

But he couldn’t offer his help if he didn’t understand at least what was happening in the moment. “Dayn.” Joel spoke his name once more, biting the inside of his cheek as he pondered how to even confront this conversation. The letter he was never meant to read still burned a hole on his mattress every single night while he watched his brother sleep. It should have been easy enough to pull it out from its hiding place and set it before them. Joel glanced towards the bed where he hid it but made no effort to move in its direction. 

Nodding his head, Joel handed the deck of cards over and placed his hands together before him - caressing them against each other for comfort as opposed to warmth. “What did you see?” he asked, after what felt like an eternity in silence. There could have easily been sound, his brother’s words even aside from the soft shuffling of the cards, but his attention was anywhere but on what they’d been doing. Gaze still fixed onto his mattress, he asked, “At the window. What did you see? Don’t-” Don’t dismiss it, he wanted to say but held off, “What was out there?”

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It was already bad enough when he was alone here, when it was his own skin he had to worry about. And while Dayn was overjoyed (in a completely selfish way) that Joel was here with him, to endure something similar to what he had to, something they could actually share in, it meant that he worried more. Before, it would be easy to think that in danger, or in any circumstance that necessitated strategy, a plan of action, he only had to think about himself. Now, with Joel, there were backup plans upon backup plans.

They were not getting separated again, if he could help it.

And he knew Joel thought the same about him. They both always had their own reasons for trying to protect the other, with anything. They were each the other's biggest weak points in their armor. It could have very well been a dangerous thing here, but it was non-negotiable.

It was also why he was a little frantic this afternoon, with the day growing longer and he hadn't seen his brother since this morning when they both woke up. Knowing him and the various conquests he had already acquired in his short time here, the obvious answer was with one of them. But he didn't know where to look, and they usually had an agreement that they would be back at a certain time - this was cutting it close. He liked the docks, and the water, Dayn thought - it was pretty enough to draw, and that was as telltale a sign as any to where the other Thompson could be. Though he turned up short, he still called out to a woman walking towards one of the boats, yelling a "Hey!" for attention, and a little wave as he strode over. "Hi, sorry-- have you seen a guy that looks exactly like me wandering around here today?" he asked. "Not like, creature or anything, we're just twins." *// @h4ngedmcn

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Dayn shockingly didn't know the average amount of people it took to build a hut, so anything less than ten he'd consider impressive. There wasn't much else to do around here, though, so whole days and weeks being taken over by a project of this scale just made sense. He didn't see the appeal, but even he'd chip in and help if it meant he'd have something to do. Staring at the walls of the bar were starting to get boring. He felt like a dog locked in its cage for one too many hours - there was a desire to start getting destructive.

He had to take her at face value with the statistics about the death rate, until he could cross-check himself. In the gas station, and the bar, there were those little amulets that stayed by the door. He hadn't had a chance to look and see if anything in the settlement had similar. How did they protect themselves then? So many more questions, but he'd refrain from those until he figured out what he owed for the first few.

"I do," Dayn answered. "I live at the gas station. I agree, it's nice not living with a cluster of people who might fuck up and put me in danger." Dayn was no hero, no knight in shining armor - at the first sign of trouble, it would be his ass, and his alone, that was getting saved. What did he used to joke with Joel, when they talked about horror movies, and killers like Michael Myers, or Jason Voorhees? All I have to do is run faster than you. It was a bit sickening in hindsight, that he would say that knowing how they were separated years ago. "I was still bartending," he answered. It wasn't even worth going into the niche sort of disgusting fame he would endure on anniversaries, after five or ten year increments. "Odd jobs for money when that wasn't enough. Stayed on my feet anyway. Yourself?"

In twenty years, Nika had seen many changes to settlement, both in its infrastructure but also in its people. It was a cautious balance to navigate bringing about change. Without it humans became restless in the constant, but too much change, or the wrong change, and it eroded the fragile foundation of trust that held this place together. Implementing separate living quarters from the main building had been a necessary change, one that had been rather well received even if the first few attempts had resulted in the loss of settlers, may they rest in peace.

"Five," she stated, "it takes five people to build these huts, men or women. Four if they have experience, though it's been a couple of years since we've had to make any. Try as hard as we might, people cannot be saved from their own mind, their own thoughts." Nika fixed her gaze on Dayn. "We do better here than in town, in terms of fatalities. But... if people want to open the doors to these creatures than they will. It's why it's safer, you see, to live separate of others sometimes."

"Tell me, Dayn, do you enjoy where you're living currently? And, I hear you bartend? Is that right? What were you doing in your previous life?"

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Dayn was ready to pipe up and say hopefully that would change - but it would be the opposite here, no? Wasn't it technically a good thing that there weren't people here to fill the halls, meaning less people that had to suffer the same fates the rest of them were dealt? In selfish ways, though, it would have been nice to have others around, for emergencies. An ambulance crashing into Arcadia would be bad for those inside, sure, but they could sure use the help: the most practical use of that stupid trolley problem he'd ever seen.

His hand felt itchy as the skin was stitched back together, to the point he had to make a conscious effort not to touch it, to force that suggestion out of his mind. The last thing he needed was to make things worse and require more medical intervention when surely supplies and time were stretched thin enough as it were. Dayn was relieved they didn't press him further, another memory he wouldn't want to touch with a ten foot pole, if he could help it. An excuse to slow down and be a little lazy was welcome, even if there was a fear about those things being able to see them through the windows. They'd have to settle for covering windows with blankets until they could finish boarding them up.

"Oh, I'm Dayn," he introduced. They already sort of shook hands, so he'd abstain from that. "The twin's Joel. Just picture, like... longer hair. Kinder eyes. Worse posture, I think, and then you got it. Actually he ended up here after awhile, he got stuck in the woods with the weather and landed here. He was fine, though."

Shaw pretended to mull over the suggestion. In truth, the clinic had never had any real use for an expansion—supplies were always too scarce, and clinicians even more so—and their location being smack-dab in the middle of town had at least made the trips fairly quicker than most. It would be much more efficient if there were smaller stations at the fringes, in the sliver of boundary where town and wilderness met, but there again came the matter of supply. “That might be true,” they conceded, “There’s a lot of empty rooms. Just not enough things and people to supply it with.” Though Shaw had hoped, at least, that it would stay that way. They would not commit to growing roots in such a half-life.

I’m not really big on hospitals. He confessed, mid-suture, as Shaw continued working. It was not unexpected. Visits to the clinic were rarely met with enthusiasm, and Shaw would prefer that no visitors would come at all. It was true and even encouraged. No visitors was often a sign of a good day. A quiet day. When no thought would be afforded to the specter of creatures who had come alive in the night and no horrors to be treated for in the next morning. Where the progress of their days was measured only by the angles of their shadows in the sunlight, the dip of the sky against their skin. 

For now, though, work awaited. “That’s fair,” they conceded, sliding the needle through the last of the skin still left. They paused slightly to survey their handiwork, leaning back slightly. Once they were confident that the stitches would hold, Shaw gently dropped his hand. “Try to keep it dry for the next twenty-four hours. No handiwork,” they advised as they placed their supplies back into the tray. It was not the worst start to their morning, Shaw mused. A routine established. The laceration, at least, had been easier to treat than others. They moved to the corner of the room where the sink lay. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” they remarked, gaze still focused on the steady rivulet of water to wash the wound and the morning away, “And your twin’s name, too.” More names, then, to add to the clinic’s records. More bodies lying in wait.

[thcmpscns]

Dayn grinned at the permission, knife twirling round his fingers once like a drummer would their stick, and he started digging it into the meat. It was a good thing he sharpened it the other day. He most definitely would need to clean it again after this, or any neighborhood dog would be sniffing at his pockets come time to put the knife away, but that was nothing compared to this reward. Dayn went as even as possible when cutting it in half, but even then still pushed the half that looked larger towards her - she was the one who found it.

"Well, that's terrible," he remarked, trying not to think about how casual he sounded just then. Blood and gruesome sights of that nature didn't bother him - he watched enough horror movies and saw enough injury and scary situations in his own life. It didn't prepare him for the cloud of death that hung over the town, but it was probably a better "education" than some others might've gotten. "Maybe we'll get lucky and next week someone’ll crash in here and have, like, a tray of hot wings or something. Six pack of cream soda."

Roux nodded her approval of the plan, prepared to circle back in the weeks ahead to collect. It was highly unlikely Nika would punish him for trespassing, he posed no threat but the gentle tread of curiosity upon her fragile hierarchal systems and miniature cartel rings — but the chance was never zero. Smirking at the thought, Roux reappraised the cylinder of mystery meat on display with a nod, “Yeah, but don’t be polite about it. Hack the thing and two and let’s call it a day.” It could have been the effects of the wine talking, too potent in its freshness, but Roux felt herself at the whims of a particularly generous mood that carried no strings attached ( so far ). Dayn made surprisingly tolerable company for how little he intruded or interfered, not one to be greedy or overbearing. It was a pleasant and good humoured change of pace from the guarded and pedantic motions most settled on performing.

 “Yup,” she reached for a cracker, letting it slide though a small mound of suspiciously soft cheese before popping it into her mouth, “dead last night, super duper dead this morning,” she affirmed, utterly unfazed by the graphic mental image the topic produced in her mind as she took another mouthful. There was something so godly about cheddar cheese. “No bodies left inside, but the car was totalled and there was blood all over the front seats — this fancy creamy suede stuff that'd cost a fortune to clean. Holes through the windshield, handprints on the hood, tree branch through the cab… my theory is they pulled themselves out through the front, like they dodged the worst of it, but got dragged away before they could get far.”

[thcmpscns]

"I couldn't agree more." Dayn had spent a solid twenty-four hours triple checking every possible crevice in the gas station - any split in the wood, weak points in the drywall, parts of the roof that were ready to cave in. Anything that could be used for those creatures to weasel their way into his subconscious, see him out of some obscure slit in the building and reignite any childhood fears. Except they weren't relegated to childhood - nightmares lasted well into adulthood, and the only true reprieve he could think of, or at least, the closest thing to it, was that man's death. The perfect breeding ground for those things to wriggle their way into his head.

They were the rot. Not the townsfolk, those things. And they festered and spread all the same.

Dayn hadn't even realized that both of their hands were wrapped around each other's until he felt comforting squeezes to them both - wait, shouldn't that have been the opposite? He should have been the one to reassure, not the other way around. Dayn hadn't been in Arcadia very long, but he was no stranger to the same trials and tribulations that came with being stuck in the same place. Real comfort and the feeling of safety was hard to come by, but he knew it when it was in front of him.

Her eyes fixed on his and he refused to look away. "There's nothing here to be afraid of," he spoke, his voice softer than it had been this entire conversation. It was like he needed to hear those words himself, because this was unlike him. Between the two of them, there was no threat of violence, of impending danger or doom - it was pushed to the back of his mind, a welcome distraction with bright, determined eyes and an infectious look of determination seated just before him.

Dayn leaned forward then, autopiloted, and kissed her. Slow, soft, and only lasting a few seconds before he pulled away, more solidly onto his own seat. Doubt crept in, his own anxieties a little bit too loud in the moment. "I'm sorry," he said, slowly, masking the unease with a laugh. "That was probably-- so not what you needed right now."

This town had a way of being like weeds, growing in things left unattended with roots so deep that it hurt to remove. It had been simple when she first got here to focus on staying sane, to carefully remove seeds of insanity from where they attempted to make home. Now Charlie's head was a garden of thorny vines so deeply wrapped around each memory, polluting them, that the madness couldn't be eroded without killing her. Nine years did that to you, she supposed. Nine years of watching friends die, of being taunted by creatures, of trying to leave and feeling the hands of this place pulling you back.

Nine years and everything leading up to this moment with Dayn, of honesty, of admitting that she felt doomed, of letting Dayn into the garden of her mind. He was careful in there, in a way she hadn't expected. Her fingers easily parted to let the warmth of his intertwine with the coldness of hers. She was quietly relieved that the focus of the conversation seemed to shift to him and didn't bother to agree with him on Reyna losing her mind, knew as much to be true in the throbbing pain of her cut cheekbone. There was also solidarity in the admittance of his visions, even if it caused a pain in her heart at the idea of him going through anything as similar as she had.

The nosy part of her wanted to ask him what he meant, who he was talking about. But the moment was already so fragile. Didn't they deserve a quiet moment of contemplation? Weren't they people worthy of a soft tender reprise from Hell Town? Charlie couldn't answer that. She just knew that for a moment, no matter how brief, the humming and thrumming of her mind had quieted so that she could focus on Dayn.

"Thank you," she said softly, hands squeezing his. She gazed at him then, admired his jawline, the fullness of his lips, the way his eyes contained an obtrusively conspicuous sadness to them, the curve of his brows as he furrowed them. "You're not rotten either," she finally said, "I think it's this place that tries to rot us, with hatred of each other, of ourselves, with fear." She paused to swallow, briefly avert her eyes, and then gazed back at him, fixed and intent, "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

[thcmpscns]

His brows pushed closer and his head tilted down a bit, studying her closer, how she spoke at him. More specifically, how she spoke at him thinking that he was Joel. Man, part of him itched to prank, like they'd done so many times in the past. But they looked different now, and they would see these people over again. It would be one thing if she was a stranger, one neither of them would see in the expanse of the city. But he could probably count the number of people in the population of Arcadia. And, with the stress of... everything, it was probably a bad idea.

"Not Joel," he said, right off the bat. Tone more even, a little blunter than his brother's. "Dayn. I feel like I should probably be hurt if he didn't say there was another one - the first one, technically speaking, the original - but that can wait." Dayn squinted up at the huge tree, trying to discern if he could feel any power or magic thrumming from it. Maybe those settlement people were on to something, he thought, but the longer he looked, the less he seemed to get. "I don't know... I think so? I'm not really the best with riddles and puzzles. Something about bark and not bite makes sense, but I probably wouldn't have guessed if not for..." He trailed off - maybe he shouldn't mention the detective's ghost, or spirit, or whatever leading him around. "The bar being slow. I was too bored."

rain wasn't sure how long she'd been on the ground. minutes? hours? days? who fucking knew at that point? she could have been there for years, really, and she'd eventually give in and forcibly make sense of the fact that she was still breathing and very much alive. anything seemed possible in this town. so when the snow scrunching became louder by the second, rain had resigned to whatever life had planned for her. whoever was standing over her — looming, more like — they were either her salvation or her end.

when the question registered in her hazy mind, rain forced her eyes to open as much as she could, the brightness from her surroundings making it much harder than usual. slowly, her vision became clearer, and the ringing in her ears was silenced when she recognized the face hovering over her.

"joel?" she whispered, tongue quickly swiping across her lips as they dried from her breath. "what the fuck are you—"

as quickly as the question came to her mind, rain silenced herself upon realizing how ridiculous it was going to sound if it came out of her mouth. everyone was going through the same shit as her, albeit varying in levels, and so seeing joel should have been the least surprising thing to rain.

"have you figured out what it's telling you?" she pushed herself back up to a sitting position, arms trembling under her weight, the cold, the pain— everything at that point. "it's the fucking tree, isn't it?" she sniffed, taking some time to clear her airways before continuing, "i don't know what else to do. i've known the answer since last night but i still woke up to—" shaking her head gingerly, she swallowed thickly before looking up at him. "help me figure this shit out. i'm fucking tired of it."

[thcmpscns]

Dayn nodded, and took another look around, now that his focus wasn't locked in on her. It was difficult to make any space personal around here, he thought. His half of the childhood bedroom he and Joel shared had band posters on the walls, a signed Packers jersey, some of his twin's drawings from that stretch of childhood they were separated. What would there be here? Did anyone even know what era this town was? There was a guitar in the corner of her room and that was about the only thing he could pinpoint about her. At least her knew her name.

"If you insist," he grinned, turning over to her direction, a hand running over the smooth skin at the small of her back. The pinkish scar over his hip safely covered by the blanket, and those that stretched over his back were facing away. In the past, he'd been happy to pack it up and go on with his day, lose himself in the vastness of a city, but he had to change course a bit this time. The town was small enough where he couldn't just ghost and ignore, it would always come back to haunt. Which was no slight against Arden, it was just better for him that way. Less questions, less explanations. He'd prolong those conversations as long as possible. His fingers curled over her opposite hip, to pull her closer. "I don't wanna go back to work now," he spoke, a voice closer to a whine, finishing with a laugh. "People can pour their own drinks for the afternoon, right?"

The more time she spent in Arcadia the more Arden wondered just how many surprises were lurking around. She would of been the first one to tell you she'd never imagine seeing her Dad — the man to first put a guitar into her young hands. Images of him only seemed to appear in her dreams lately, when they weren't overshadowed by the horrors of the night. She managed to figure out what he was trying to tell her, though her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to listen until the pestering began. The blonde lived for distractions, especially when the sun went down but right now was a good use of the day time.

Her day led her to the bar, the setting allowing her to put a name to one of the faces she'd been seeing around town. Things between her and Dayn picked up pretty quickly, the two of them hitting things off and moving into the privacy of her apartment. She didn't know how much to blame on the potato vodka, but she wasn't mad about the outcome.

Arden laid in bed beside him, propping herself up on her elbows as her head turned in his direction. "That's one of the main things that drew me to this place." It almost sounded silly, but the small detail of sleeping in an actual bed brought her comfort. Her eyes traveled over his bare torso, taking in the sight as they worked their way to meet his. "I get it, feel free to enjoy my bed for as long as you'd like. I won't to turn down the company." The blonde liked having her own space, though there were some nights where she felt that having members of town closer wasn't the worst idea.

[thcmpscns]

It was becoming clearer and clearer by the day that Dayn had to resort back to that survival mode - the one day at a time mentality, otherwise keeping track of days brought different kinds of upset and fear. The first Christmas without family, a birthday passing without your twin - it was an old hurt. It wasn't one in a million years he thought would ever resurface again, but he was adept at pushing that down, which he did in record speed. As soon as the thought entered his mind, it was gone, not to be entertained as a hard and fast rule.

It made him believe he'd actually do well here.

"Don't go outside after dark, and don't be a dickhead to your neighbors?" he said, reciting as best as he could to memory. There was probably more there, but he figured it could be boiled down to those core tenets. "Oh, don't worry, I won't be," Dayn remarked, more sure of himself than he had any right to be, for being so new. "I'm sure everyone's very nice here and all that. But I'm saving my own skin before anyone else's. If I end up in that graveyard, know at least I went down swinging." He took a glass off the stack and gestured it in her direction, a silent offering for a drink if she wanted.

To a newcomer, seven years sounded like a Hell of a long time. She'd been there before. With previous people who had not come to see an escape to this town, not alive at least, with people who were still surviving day by day. Surviving in this town was a gamble of sorts. Every day brought something new and she could never tell what it was. Shaw had been here for fifteen years. Baby even longer. Twenty four years of this Hell, and the kid had no idea about the outside world. She couldn't share that info with Dayn. Not now, not yet. It only invoked stress and irrational behaviors, perhaps not right away - but anyone knowing there was a low percentage chance to make it out of here alive would eventually lose their mind one way or another.

''The spiders here are weird, make sure to pay the clinic a visit. Ask for Shaw, they know what to do.'' The ink on his arm didn't go unnoticed by her in the few seconds it caught her attention, before her eyes went back up to him.

''You've been told the rules about this place, right?'' She didn't need to ask - or else he wouldn't have been here. People who didn't listen either figured out the hard way or didn't make it past day one. New people that arrived into town rarely died on their first day, but it wasn't a never either.

''Look kid, there's things even I don't know about this place. Those things... they cannot die. They're not human, they're something beyond our knowledge. You just make sure to stick to safety rather than bravery. Don't be a hero kid - enough people before you've made that choice already... there's a graveyard in town for a reason.''

[thcmpscns]

The real answer was none. Or, maybe more accurate, the attention that Dayn liked was the kind that he initiated first. He still could remember in the days where his case was getting resurfaced attention, feeling the need to pull his hood up way over his head. Wait, are you-- interruptions whenever he just tried to do his job. He had taken a couple of weeks off of work bartending and just stuck to hustler jobs in the meantime, where his face was less likely to be seen. He would have just put himself up in those street fights, but if he walked into court looking like he got jumped, it could've hurt any chances, or so had been explained to him. "I'm more of a one-one-one kinda guy," he decided on, after a brief thought. "One-on-two even, if that's where the night takes me."

His smile grew when he thought he saw a glimmer of hers, and a light laugh bubbled out of him. "Oh, I'll be just fine, I'm used to being stuck in the same spot." That might've been a little too much of a reveal for him, inviting too many questions if she was the curious sort, but he could recover and believed she wasn't so much that way. "I'd choose your company over his any way. I, for one, am fine with stowing him away in that back room where they actually make the liquor, leave him there with a blanket, a pillow, and a bucket and call it a night. For him, at least." Then the night can actually get started. He leaned in a bit, lips aimed to her ears. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

listening to dayn, reyna ran her palms over her thighs, as if brushing away the remnants of what she'd just handled. his lightly injured hand. she remained still. “what kind of attention is it you like, then ?” she asked, her voice steady but curious. reyna's imagination drifted, picturing the younger man working behind a bar collecting tickets - running service. despite absorbing his words, reyna's mind wandered, imagining him enduring the weariness of small talk with polite restraint—or was that more a projection of her own past ? the brunette had spent years forcing herself through conversations she didn’t want, bending reluctantly to the social expectations of pleasantries. talking about the weather. feigning interest. asking questions just to let others bask in their own stories. people loved talking about themselves. reyna never adapted to that game. she preferred coexisting in comfortable silence. if conversation was necessary, why waste breath on words without weight ?

here, in this moment, sitting with dayn didn’t feel forced. even after the earlier chaos they’d navigated, there was ease. amusement, even. her posture shifted, elbows propped on her thighs. “—oh, hush,” reyna muttered, rolling her eyes before shaking her head. the grin threatening her composure was buried beneath clasped hands pressed against her chin. “it’s just going to be a long night, that’s all. i’m fine here.” she was always fine. self-sufficient. unafraid. “if i’m hurting your heart—well, a little to the left there,” she teased, attempting to swallow the grin that tugged at her lips. no way would she give dayn the satisfaction of seeing it. she wasn’t sick of him, though. not yet. “could be worse. i could be babysitting him by myself. forced to stare at all of the veins in the wood. thrilling stuff-” her eyes flicked toward the drunken man nearby. over the past four years, reyna had seen plenty of souls drowning in their own misery. “if he pukes... that’s unfortunately on you,” she added, her tone light but pointed. surprising even herself, reyna returned the wink.