y'know that feeling when you wake up in the morning and it just feels like something is gonna happen? darcy’s been riding that all morning– waiting for that moment to strike and assure him that, once again, it’s always best to trust his gut.

it’s when he sees someone chasing after his car that he thinks eh, maybe not.

pulling to the side of the road in a harsh stop, he prepares himself for… whatever. the thing about small towns is that people feel entitled, because it’s their town, and blaring explicit music through the streets is impolite and darcy is immature– or whatever. so, no, it’s not the first time he’s had someone on his ass about something. he prepares himself for a moment before opening the door and stepping out, waiting to hear a shrill voice complaining about–

it’s micah.

before he can think, his body acts– he runs, he feels his arms wrap around the woman, he feels her weight in his grasp when he lifts her off the ground and says, “Micah–!!”

x

He looks exasperated at first, but then he’s barreling towards her full speed. A laugh erupts from her chest as her arms wrap around his neck, legs going around his waist, koaling onto him as tight as she can. Finding home in a town far away from everyone she knows is a welcomed start to the morning, a welcomed start to whatever life awaits her in Babylon, but she’ll take this small win while she can.

Finally, she lets him go, sliding down to the ground and looking up at him, eyebrows pushed together, bottom lip pouting out but lips trying to twist into a smile. “Hey! Oh my god...” She breathes out, doing her best to keep her misty eyes at bay as she takes him in.

“It’s been so long! I didn’t think you’d be here...” And she didn’t. Of all places she’d expect to know someone this town was not one of them, yet she’d found herself finding a few familiar faces in each corner she peeked into. 

in her many years maren had grown fond of human tradition. however like with all things there were some she favored more than others, but she’d always found exceptional delight in the traditions of all hallows’ eve. maren had often frequented town gatherings dedicated to the human traditions, wanting to fit in with the crowd but also wanting to watch the mélange of people from all over town who attended such things. the costumes brought her a deeply felt joy, one that made the broad smile on her face almost permanently irreversible. in moments like these it was when she was reminded of why she wanted to live amongst the humans in the first place. rapturous laughter and joyful gleams surrounded her, and yet she found herself with her sights set on one person in particular. dakota. he was on his own at the edge of all the festivities, standing underneath a street lamp that was almost acting as if it were his own personal spotlight. the light above had cast a shadow over his features but she could see the ember glowing from the cigarette between his lips. maren had already been staring for a noticeably long time before she caught herself and began to look in another direction, hoping that she might still be able to play it off. no such compassion would be afforded however as he had called out to her just then as she tries to glance away from him. “hmm,” she turns back, cheeks flush from embarrassment as she’d surely been caught by him. “oh it’s no problem at all. i’ve been told before that i’ve got one of those familiar faces.” her feet urge her to move towards him but she stays still, her stomach filling with nervous excitement. “or maybe you’ve just seen me around town before. i’ve lived around here for a couple of years now. i work at the flower shop not too far from here.” 

x

Fumbling for words, he removes his hat in an apologetic manner as she speaks to him. An antiquated custom that his father had drilled into him, one that only stuck because his mother found it endearing. In this situation, it seems only fitting since he’d been gawking at the poor woman. Dakota imagines he probably scared her, but there’s a softness in her voice, and a tenderness to her expression that has his shoulders relaxing. If it isn’t her demeanor, it’s the familiarity she has, he’s met her before he’s sure of it, but much like those before him, Dakota had a hard time forgetting a pretty face. Then again, he’s sure he’d remember the fluttering in his chest, his heart palpating beneath his ribcage as he listens to her. The soft smile on his face stakes its claim as he takes a final, selfish drag, before stubbing the smoke out on the bottom of his boot, tucking it behind his ear for later. 

Flower shop. His head tilts curiously, not that he’d been in all that often, in fact he only bought flowers for special occasions, but someone had been bringing him flowers for awhile. Maybe she’d know his secret gift giver and be able to point him in the right direction. Maybe he’d sound like a loon if he asked, so he stops himself. But the thought flushes his cheeks and the tip of his nose under the face paint, and he offers her a nod of recognition. “Ahh, gotcha. I do believe I’ve taken a few of the older church members to and from multiple times, so it’s a high possibility!” A nervous laugh as he thinks a moment longer. Yeah. That’s it. The church shuttle. That makes sense. “Uhm, I’m Dakota.”

closed: @g00eyw0mb​ location: idk anywhere!  the world is their oyster

Sometimes, it all gets to her. The heaviness she’s taken on as a response to try and provide closure to those that deserve it, a way to atone for her own sins she didn’t commit and receive her own happy ending, it’s a burden she happily bears. But, sometimes it all gets to her. Flashes of nasty photos, blood spatters that make no sense, the smell of earth beneath her feet, Micah’s stomach turns as her feet hit the early morning ground. She does her best to out run the images, to outrun the cold, but the eggs in her stomach are turning with ever step she takes until she finally stops to try and breathe. 

A shitty green Toyota van passes her by, the flash of blonde hair and unmistakeable dick tattoo in the drivers seat stops everything. The rest of the air is sucked from her lungs, but this time it’s in joy rather than disgust. “Darcy!” She calls, taking off full speed in a futile attempt to catch the van. “Darcy, wait!” Smile so wide it’s splitting her face she ignores the burning sensation in her muscles and her lungs, picking up speed as the van slows. 

closed: @phaticgod​ location: the oasis truck stop

One thing she didn’t expect being this far south was just how cold the nights get. The lake effect and below freezing temperatures were no stranger to her skin, however she wasn’t expecting the dewy humid cold that came with this part of Texas. The cold desert night continues to nip at her skin as she walks across the parking lot, moon shining on the too clear sky for the kind of night that felt heavy. She told herself she’d try one more place then go home, she’d be useless if she was tired, and the day hadn’t provided any new sources anyway, what was taking a break? 

She takes note of the car parked off in the dark, the shadow immediately putting her on edge as she takes note of a person leaned into one of the windows, and the man in the drivers seat talking to them in a hushed whisper. Micah doesn’t hear the ding of the old bell, or her footsteps padding across the peeling linoleum. She’s too focused on the man outside, alarm bells going off in her head as she keeps a watch on the car the best she can from the dusty windows. 

And the car is still there when she leaves. The hair stands up on the back of her neck, not liking the off putting nature of it all. Missing persons signs flash before her eyes and before she knows it she’s walking towards the car, pastry and coffee in hand to ask just what the fuck this guy was doing with this woman so early in the morning. “What’s going on over her—” She stops herself when she finally catches David’s face in the dim truck stop light, smile spreading across her face and relief washing over her. Thank God she found David Sharpe. 

closed: @sugcrpill​ location: Pilgrims Square — Halloween Event

His father had always said this holiday was for scoundrels and those that were godless. Dakota and his mother would nod along as they carved pumpkins on the porch, saving the seeds for later and even one year using the insides to make pumpkin pie. The memory makes him chuckle as he helps some of the local younglings carve their own pumpkins at the craft station, skilled hands maneuvering the knife around tricky corners before plucking the piece of shell out and tossing it into the pile. “There ya go, darlin’.” He smiles, at the little girl, her small voice hollering out a thank you before she wanders off with her pumpkin to finish decorating it. He lifts his hat to turn it backwards, trying to be wary not to smudge the face paint as he stands up to excuse himself for a quick smoke break. 

He often curses himself for ever picking up such a nasty habit, but he isn’t fool enough to make a notion to quit. Not right now at least. So instead he wanders over to a more empty part of the festivities to light up his cigarette, head tilting as he spot a familiar face in the crowd. At least, he’s sure she is. Her features are ringing bells in his head, but he can’t quite place them, but it’s too late for him to look away when he realizes he’s been staring and now is being stared at. “Sorry!”  He quickly speaks, taking an equally fast puff of his cigarette. “Thought you were someone I knew!” 

They say when you go halfway, you only have halfway to go

                                                          Dusty Trails

IC

FACECLAIM: Amber Midthunder NAME: Micah Ransone AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis-Female, She/Her/Hers SPECIES: Human

ABILITIES: 

Death sense: She knows when someone is going to die, and the feeling is strongest as they're about to die or actively dying.

Death Wail: A cry heard in the night, the distinct mark of a banshee is her scream.

Communication with the dead: With this sense of death comes purpose and she can communicate with the dead.

LIMITATIONS: 

Micah cannot prevent death, she can only be there for it and maybe provide comfort, or a light to the after life.

While she can communicate with the dead, it isn't like people think it is; she can hear them and speak with them, but it's only blips of information that she usually has to patch together.

PERSONALITY:  Micah is forlorn and crest fallen. She is loyal to a fault and incredibly persistent. She's sensitive, but does her best to be an optimistic light in the lives of those she meets. Micah likes to have a good time and keep the skeletons in her closet locked in there. She loves to love and finds it easy to love anyone and everyone, this has been a downfall for her. 

BACKGROUND:

Micah graduated from Montana State University - Billings with a degree in Photojournalism, from there she moved to the rough lands of Chicago for her first job in a high profile PR agency.

She covered gang violence, other crimes, and often found herself a link in uncovering the filth and grime that plagued city officials. She brought them to justice with the lens of her camera and they brought death and fear to her door.

She isn't sure when it started, but she remembers the first time she screamed; it was so loud her throat felt shredded and she was sure she couldn't speak anymore.

Micah's always been in tune with the after life, though, she was often known as that weird kid that talked to no one, or had bad feelings about houses and buildings.

After a particularly large bust, gun shots fired, and a mass betrayal that left her shaken to her core, Micah fled the city and found herself roaming the south. She chased stories, took contract work for PI gigs, and found her niche in helping find missing persons. It helps that death follows her wherever she goes, and half the time they were looking for a body not a person, but the thought she was doing good with her odd talent brought her relief.

It was in the deep woods of Mississippi she heard of the strange happenings in Texas. You could say it was the little voice in her head, the swell in her chest, or the trance like state she found herself in on a highway heading towards Babylon, but now she's here.

The missing person cases are her top priority, but much like her instinct in Chicago, her gut tells her something isn't right here. There's something larger lurking in the dark, and she's going to find out what. Even if it kills her.

“Food trucks, yeah–“ he can’t help but smile when he gets a look at dakota– when he really looks at him. like a big puppy, dakota is, and malachi can never help but soak it up when the two of them find themselves together. a true friend will make you laugh when you’re crying, smile when you’re angry, and put you in your place when you’re acting out. his mother’s words echo in his ears gently.

“You know, you get really excited about this stuff and I just gotta say,” his fingers have found a shred of skin– a hangnail, maybe– picking at it eagerly, “I wish I was as excited about life as you are, man…”

x

There’s something boyish in his demeanor as he switches from talking about daily life to the joys and thrill of traveling. Even with an ever present soft smile, the creases in his forehead, the dents in his hands, they tell of a life of hard work. So when Malachi notes his joy, he just shrugs.

“I dunno. Someone once told me it’s about dying for something beautiful, but, between you and me,” He pauses, looking to Malachi once more, lopsided grin back to its lazy state. “I’d rather live for something beautiful.” His thoughts wander a moment as he studies his friend, taking in his ticks and his expression, before turning away once more to gaze up at the stars in the open night sky. “Maybe I’ll rub off on you one day.”

@g00eyw0mb location: dakota’s truck, outskirts of town

“Naw, you’ll love Oregon.” Lopsided smile on his face as his eyes leave the stars to gaze over at Malachi. An attempt to escape their current weird reality, an attempt to push off the idea that fate was coming for them, Dakota took to making plans for a possible roadtrip up the West Coast. “They’ve got a lot of cool stuff. Like, you’ll definitely love Portland, oh—!” A sudden burst as the thought crosses his mind, eyes widening and smile spreading, pushing cheeks up to his eyes. 

“We can go to the little food truck place when we get there! They’ve apparently got a bunch of lil’ food trucks in this community and it’s got all sorts of different like...” The words suddenly escape him, eyes glazing over as he fights to finish the sentence. “Genres of food.”

E can’t help but smile back at this guy. Well, more of a smirk than anything, but still genuine amusement at the simple joy Dakota is showing while enjoying his sherbert. At the question, the smirk fades from his face as he tries to remember how long he has been in this little town. His memories of the city before this town and all the bullshit he experienced leading him to transfer here still leaves him simmering in rage. 

“Well, I’ve been here for around 5 years now, I think…” E says while slightly shaking his head to refocus. “You may have seen me around at the Silver Dollar or even the Devil’s Backbone from time to time. Or maybe you’ve been in trouble with the law before.” he says with a wry chuckle while watching Dakota for any reaction.

x

Another short laugh, but a shake of the head this time. Five years is a long time, but Dakota comes and goes as he pleases these days. “No, sir, never been in trouble with the law. Not to my knowledge at least.” He reassures setting his cup down as he eases into conversation. Straight laced through and through the most sinful things he’s ever done is have premarital sex, and the many evenings spent with Malachi, plumes of clouds rising above them late into the night. Both of these facts, he makes sure never get back to his father. 

“Don’t spend much time at the honky tonk anymore, don’t drive out that way these days, but everyone and their grandmother goes to Silver Dollar so we’ve definitely played a game of pool or something at some point.” And that would make sense. He’s a friendly guy, and that much is prominent by striking up conversation with a stranger.

Arms wrapped around himself, and a passive scrutiny eyes the clack and rumble rolling around the wry pasture of the pool table. Attentively disinterested to the momentum of play, but curious enough to follow the stilt and start of dispersing motions as he listens. Hitched to the corner of the wall, a woman is singing a song he doesn’t know, nasally with blues like a tinny bird through the jerry rigged speaker. Mutt remembers the first time he’d arrived in Babylon, all scraped up inside and unfamiliar, that when Dakota laughs, he’s glad of the friendliness. 

Reminded, Mutt considers what he’d said- the rumors. A look of active contemplation wrinkles his passive demeanor now, “S’really weird though.” He thinks back on the last customers he’d served, afraid but eager enough, as if they were a door-to-doorsmen of fear. “Even lyin’… it’s some real fucked up shit to lie about. You think it’s uhh, like… that Max Headroom shit? Y’know when they jacked the station?” 

x

Friendly runs in his veins. It radiates out from him with such heat sometimes he worries it’s toxic. Chernobyl levels of destruction can come from unwavering positivity, ignoring the truths as they lay out before you in place of something more simple. Even so, on nights like tonight, where bad karaoke singers fill the spaces between, and he’s in sturdy company, he doesn’t feel the need to take things so seriously. His mother wouldn’t appreciate it anyway. 

Lips purse in thought as he contemplates Mutt’s suggestion, giving a slow nod. “Maybe.” He hums, leaning over and lifting his glass bottle for a quick swig. “That’s some real weird stuff though, huh? I mean, who would even come up with something so... Freaky?” A shiver runs up his spine the more he thinks about it. How much louder the voices seemed since the broadcast. “You think maybe we have a cult moving in? Like... Manson or Jim Jones?”

phaticgod​:

LOCATION: The convenience store he manages  / @arst-starters TIME: Sometime late at night

Mutt isn’t particularly pretty. It’s a long ago pang of realization the first time he’d broken his nose— a memory attesting itself in a portrait of bruised sympathy in his expression when he says, “You look like shit, man.” Tactless, he remembers someone saying, a word permanently dog eared in his mind’s vocabulary—  so he remedies the torn edged concern with fringes of a hushed pity in his voice. It’s soft, meandering after a furtive glance behind the counter and a stray palm loosely gesturing over his own face as if it’d uncover the crust of understanding. “Fucked up… I mean, bad- umm.. s’gotta hurt, that.” He points in the slight upturn of his chin towards the acknowledged pains, “Y’don’t got to explain nothin’ to me, so if you need somethin’ for that…I won’t ask.”

x

Dakota wasn’t a fighting man. Definitely more of a lover, he knew how to throw a punch, but he never liked to. A little worse for wear tonight how was he supposed to know his date already had a boyfriend? He sniffles, trying to rid his nose of the dry blood caking his nostril as he wanders into the gas station, a desperate need for a new pack of cigarettes and a candy bar clouding his mind he almost doesn’t even hear Mutt. He tries to smile, not wanting the absolute bummer of a night to sour his mood, but the one he musters isn’t as cheery as it would normally be. Instead, there’s a wince behind the dimples, and he just waves off the offer. “Naw, it’ll be alright I think. Just gonna get some snacks and smokes and head out for the night... Maybe a cup of ice if the machine is working?” He asks, pointing to the soda machine, figuring it would be nice to have for the walk home, but also knowing summer might’ve put the worn machine out of commission.

@arst-starters

“Naw, don’t know nothin’ about it, but some of the other guys said they woke up to the broadcast.” He gave a lazy shrug, pool cue cracking against the ball, watching the bright red speed towards another and knock it into the cubby. A satisfied smile, he scans the table before lining up his next shot. “Think they might be lyin’, though. I know for a fact Lance didn’t wake up for shit because he wouldn’t even text me back when I asked if he’d come in to cover.” 

Dakota let out a chuckle and a sigh, taking a shot but a miss. His attention stops for a moment, thinking back to the previous night, how his skin vibrated, he he swore the voices were louder than usual, how he could practically feel the cold tingle of long dead fingers wrapping around his wrist. Maybe he was losing it from the long hot summer. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll blow over.” He ends, attention fully going to his company, the ever present bright smile on his face. 

With a grunt of acknowledgment and a look of pained focus, E. begins the recommended remedy. Behind clenched teeth and a scowl he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, still coated with remnants of the betraying treat. Soon the grimace of pain lessens and his jaw relaxes, his eyes focus again as he looks to the helpful man in gratitude. 

“Not sure if that helped or enough time just passed,” he says as his gaze turns to the melting and mostly gone ice cream cone, the internal struggle on whether or not to finish it plain on his face as he stares for a moment. He looks back up to his new company and stretches out his hand free of ice cream as he says, “Thank you, either way. I’m E. What did you end up getting?” 

x

Dakota patiently waits, soft grin on his face as he takes the first bite of his own frozen treat, pleased with how it immediately satisfied his tastebuds and absolutely gave him a much needed chill. He can’t help but laugh and give a thoughtful nod and lift of the shoulders. “Fair enough. Maybe give it a try if there’s a next time.” He offered, outstretching his hand in return. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Dakota.” He offers another smile and retracts his hand, stirring the spoon around a bit. “Orange sherbert! It’s sweet but not dairy so my stomach won’t feel gross in the heat.” He explained, spooning another bite while he thought, examining E’s face before speaking. “Have you been in town long? You look familiar but I might just be imagining it.”

Sheets of heat billows in tides through the swing and close of the shop’s door, setting the temperature within to a glad coldness. A hand settles atop the glass display counter, fingers noiselessly in tandem with the scurry and pings of the register as he waits for the condensed sour of blue in a styrofoam cup and some change. Half leaning, wound in uniform, the loosened tie around his neck is incidental, not the picture of a schoolboy let out and impatiently eager, but a man on a secondary shift in duty. 

Laconic authority unspooling into laconic affability: lips in a pressed line of familiar acknowledgement in a measure of polite sympathy. There’s no ease of sincerity to offer— he’s not a consoler, so he nods, gesturing an unspoken understanding instead of saying ‘I know’. “Always has to be somethin’ to do- that’s how it’s been. Y’know, old folks.” 

For a moment, his own father peers behind the grey lectern of memory, and he turns away from his mind’s eye. The badge within the inner pocket of his blazer nudges his chest with the slight shift of his posture, suggesting a change from conversational maudlin, “Things busy at the garage?”

x

You would be hard pressed to find someone Dakota didn’t like in this place. In this world. He often sees the beauty in things, a trait he took from his mother that his father often scolded him for. You can’t wax poetic about everything but you can sure try. And that’s what he’s doing today, finding the beauty in the heat, like the condensation running off a cold pop glass, the joy on a kids face as they enjoy their ice cold ice cream, and even the organized apathy of David as he pays and takes the styrofoam cup. 

“I know them very well at this point.” A breathy chuckle as he patiently waits for his turn before spooning the frosty orange and pink mix into his mouth. He nods at first before letting the spoon rest in the cup. “Yeah! It’s been a really good season, actually. Almost have enough bonus money saved up for my next trip.” He beamed, all teeth and unrestrained joy as he thought of traveling. “How have you been? Been busy saving the world?” A light joke to try and breathe life into, what he was sure, was a difficult job.

Prompt 2: Character Tidbits

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

-Optimism: Even on the hardest of days, Dakota tries to exhibit a level of optimism and gratitude. It can become toxic to himself, having to bury down the ‘negative’ emotions to make it possible, but the last thing he wants is not greeting someone that may need it with a smile.

GREETINGS:

Smile and a nod of the head.  Depending on how well he knows the person, and their comfort, he’s definitely a hugger.

COLOURS:

Dark red Purple, specifically lavender or dark purple

SCENTS:

Cigarettes, a nasty habit he tries to kick but the smell lingers on his clothes and hands.  Motor Oil, fingers looking ink dipped as they’re often coated in black, you’d think they’d at least be tinted gray from the smell the stains leave behind. Body Wash, despite these things, he does try to smell nice, especially if he’s going out with the intention to maybe make a lady friend. His mother always told him she loved the way his father smelled, and he took that as most women want a good smelling fella if that’s what they’re looking for. CLOTHING:

Clean shirt and jeans, or dirty overalls from his job, as well as a backwards had to protect his hair at work. He tries to look as clean cut as possible once he’s off the clock. OBJECTS:

A pack of cigarettes, his favorite lighter, a tattered wallet and a pack of gum.

VICES / BAD HABITS:

Heavy smoker Toxic optimism Dakota often makes excuses for others. BODY LANGUAGE:

A permanently fixed grin on his face flexing dimples. Arms relaxed, always standing tall and proud but keeping himself relaxed and inviting. AESTHETICS:

Flickering neon lights, sun warmed benches, the heater kicking on during a cold winter, cold fingers, late night laughter, lingering smoke, slow dancing in the refrigerator light, pins on a map, heart of gold//kinda stupid trope SONGS:

If I Can Dream - Elvis Presley She’s Quiet - The Home Team At My Worst - Pink Sweat$ Okay - Chase Atlantic Gooey - Glass Animals Outta Your Mind - Lil Jon