#dirtwatchman
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman, @disengagedspirit
TIMING: Later the same day after this solo.
SUMMARY: Mercy finds her way into a nearby cemetery, Caleb's cemetery, where he finds her lost and confused after waking from a nearly 400 year slumber.
CONTENT WARNINGS: unsanitary tw (brief mentions in regards to her clothing)
Though it had been morning, when Mercy had been revived from her slumber of almost 400 years, the man she had fed from had given her enough strength to find shelter in a nearby tomb located in the cemetery she had found herself wandering into out of desperation earlier in the day. But now, with the night sky hanging overhead, the woman who only appeared to be 33 had found herself conversing with a spirit who donned clothing similar to her own, “Pray tell kind sir, what day is it?”
“Tis’ Wednesday, Madam.” He was an older gentleman who had reminded her of the man who had raised her. At least what glimpses of him she could recall. After spending century after century in the dirt everything she had tried to hang onto had slowly faded, except now, there had been gentle reminders with the fog lifted from the meal she had consumed that morning.
“And the year of our…” Mercy paused, nearly choking on the word Lord. “What year might it be?” It hurt not being able to speak of such things that she was once so passionate about and had been raised on, but to force it out would have meant an agony she couldn’t quite handle at the moment.
“Tis’ 1724.” Though he was kind, his answer didn't sit well with her. There had been so much progress with the sun captured in tiny glass containers. Melodic songs that rang out from small bright objects that shook. And numerous other things. If witchcraft hadn’t existed while she was still around previously, it certainly did now.
—
There’d been an influx of strange happenings going on around town lately which wasn’t all that alarming to Caleb. This had been happening ever since he was a kid. One thing would die down only for another crazy circumstance to take over. It was life in this beautifully weird town. But this circumstance was a little different and even he was being overwhelmed by the noises and the ghosts taking over the place. So many were in the cemetery alone. Where he used to only see a few here and there it seemed like they were multiplying each day.
As he made his way towards a gravestone that he’d noticed graffiti on earlier he noticed a woman who was talking to one of them. She wasn’t a ghost but she was almost dressed exactly like them save for the larger blood stains covering her clothes. Well…that wasn’t good.
Cautiously making his way over to the pair, he caught the tail end of their conversation. The ghost didn’t know what year it was? Hadn’t somebody told him yet? “Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?” Caleb’s eyes trailed over the fresh blood, noticing that it wasn’t limited to her clothes. It was splattered over her face as well. His caution grew but he also had ended up in situations like this so he couldn’t really judge her harshly. “It’s 2024, ma’am. He’s a little off on that. But it also looks like he’s been dead since 1724 too….what year did you think it was?”
—
Mercy let out a soft sigh. If his answer was accurate, she had only been in the ground less than a century, but that realization was soon shattered by the presence of a man approaching her. Pulling her away from the ghost’s attention, Mercy set her sights on someone who appeared to be solid and dressed much differently than she had ever seen, except on one other person who was now laying dead miles away from where she was currently standing. He was rather tall and reminded her of Thomas; at least what little she could remember of her husband. But his vernacular was all wrong, and when she turned back to speak to the ghost, he was gone.
With no other choice, Mercy turned back around to face the man again, “Forgive me, but hast thou proclaimed it to be 2024?” If her heart could beat, it would stop. With her sharp blue eyes widening, it meant that if the math in her head was correct – Thomas had taught her much about the art of mathematics – that she was underground for nearly 400 years.
Stepping backwards somewhat, Mercy reached out for a nearby stone bench and sat down. It had taken her a moment to regain herself and to be able to talk to the man. Though she didn’t want to believe it, it had made a lot more sense, with all of the new discoveries, than what the gentleman earlier had said. And with sad eyes, she looked back upon him, “1694. When thy accusers placed thee underground…”
—
As soon as she started to speak Caleb knew he was in for a wild ride with this one. This woman had definitely missed out on some time but how in the world had this happened? “Um…yea, thou is 2024…okay, yea, I don’t know how to speak old English properly so I’m not even going to try. I’m sorry.” He watched her take a seat on the memorial bench, trying not to spook her too much. Of course it was a shock, he was shocked just hearing her so he couldn’t imagine what was going on in her mind.
Did she say 1694? Accusers? The paranoia started to grow stronger as Caleb kept his distance from her even if he knew he most likely wasn’t in danger. The woman had to be dead so whatever she ate it wasn’t rotting flesh like him. But what had she done to be placed underground? And who had just become her latest meal? Were they still in the graveyard? “I think I’m going to need a little more context here so that I can try to help you. Could you explain…why you were underground and why you’re here now? Did you wake up here?”
The questions were fair. He was understandably curious but he also needed to know if there was a body that needed to be taken care of before more police started to crawl around the place. Caleb already had enough of those looking his way.
—
Mercy couldn’t help, but gaze up at him with furrowed brows at his attempt. The language spoken now was so different, but yet, still very similar. Thankfully, she had been able to make out what he was saying, and what he was asking wasn’t unfair. Though she was weary in replying. Mercy did not know his motives. Would he try to drag her back to a premature grave or hang her for her crimes? She had seen this happen far too many times, and while she wouldn’t deny being at fault for what she had done, death by the gallows was something that scared her greatly.
“Might I trust thee?” Mercy needed to know, before confessing why she had ended up buried so deeply in the ground. Humans could change and evolve, she had seen that in the short amount of time she had been roaming the Earth. She had witnessed it with Abigail in her jealousy and accusations, and unfortunately, she had only just met this man, “Many a year ago, I was betrayed and don’t trust as I once did.” Mercy looked at the man with sad eyes.
—
Her question threw him for a loop, Caleb not really sure how to answer that. Really, he couldn’t could he? Trusting him was all on her. He could tell this woman all night that he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt her but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t in her mind, especially after what she’d been through and he didn’t even know the extent of it all. “I…I mean, I guess that’s up to you. But I will point out that you’re covered in blood talking to a ghost and I haven’t thrown you in the ground yet.” He gave her a sincere look, not sure if that was the right thing to say or not.
Especially since she’d experienced betrayal before. Anyone who had been through something like that would have a hard time trusting others again but where Caleb stood, she didn’t really have much of a choice, did she? “Tell you what, I’ll introduce myself. Let you know why I’m here and then you can decide whether you want to tell me or not.” The zombie gave her a moment to contemplate that, make any objections if she wanted, before continuing. “My name is Caleb. I work in this cemetery, take care of it, and I see things like this pretty often. Though, I think you’re the first one who’s been buried for…so long.”
—
Mercy listened intently as Caleb spoke. He had made a fair point. As she glanced down to look at herself, she noticed the blood and dirt soaking her dress. A dress that she could vaguely remember being a different color when she first wore it so many years ago. Not dingy and aged and eaten by the worms and beetles that had slipped into the cracks in the coffin over the years. In fact, it had been the first time that Mercy had seen any part of herself – her eyes only having been focused on the vast changes in the world around her, “You are fair in your observations.”
As he continued, she nodded gently, her bright blue eyes remaining trained on him the entire time. When he finished, she paused thinking if it were safe enough to trust him, and when she realized he was her only option of assistance in such a dire matter, she spoke, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Caleb.” She wanted to quickly return her name, but as the moment came up, Mercy paused. She had been buried for so long and in the dark for quite some time that she couldn't quite recall her name, at least not immediately. And when she finally did, she returned an answer, “My sincerest apologies. You may call me Mercy. Laying in darkness and rot for many a year has taken its toll on my memories.” It was strange being upright. Strange being out of her dark and dirt ridden prison and back in the land of the living. “I suppose it is only fair for me to explain myself. I have repeated my life’s story over and over again, perchance I was to be freed from my eternal prison in the ground. However, I fear I am unable to remember everything, so please forgive me, if I cannot recall every detail as it was.”
“I was born in the year 1656. I was married and gave birth to a beautiful, little girl – my sweet Sarah.” Mercy felt the girl’s name catch in her throat as she thought of her daughter and husband. “We lived in Salem town. But when the war broke out, people started to flock to Salem for refuge; our town twas no longer peaceful. I was later attacked and left for dead, but when I awoke, I had a very unusual craving for blood. In fear of harming my sweet Thomas and Sarah, I fled; hid in the shadows for as long as I could and consumed that which was offered by poor, innocent animals, until I was caught by a former friend who betrayed me. In desperation, I fled from my home and everything I knew to a town known as Wicked’s Rest. Here I was caught and forced to an eternity of rotting in the ground.”
—
“You don’t have to tell me everything...” She just kept talking, Caleb, surprised that when she finally decided to trust him the woman decided to tell her whole life story. And what a sad story it was. He could feel his heart going out to her more and more, especially after hearing her throat catch while talking about her daughter. Being turned into a vampire, losing her family, a friend betraying her and her ending up in the ground buried alive because of it…it was heavy. Something occurred to him though. The whole time she was talking, she never once mentioned the word ‘vampire.’
Did she even know what she was?
“And then you woke up in 2024…you’ve missed a lot.” He let out a deep breath that he’d been holding in, probably for longer than he should have. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. Do you…know why all of that happened to you? I mean, the reason you woke up craving blood, do you know why that is?” He didn’t want to mansplain vampires to a vampire but Caleb couldn’t get over the fact that she’d avoided the word. “Did you crave it when you woke?”
He knew she did. The blood on her dress was enough to tell him that but he also knew that not eating for so long was enough to throw them into a frenzy. Now he was wondering if there was a trail of bodies he needed to help clean up and maybe some he could harvest for his own needs. Caleb ran a hand over the nape of his neck and looked around them, seeing only the old fashioned ghosts that had taken to walking around the town. At least there was no one alive around to witness this.
—
“Sorry. I needed to speak it. To allow it out so that my life and the life of my Thomas and Sarah were still relevant even in…” Mercy still couldn’t process the year, “Two-thousand and twenty-four.” She looked away from him, still trying to understand how she could even still be here. But his questions caught her attention, “Excuse me?”
Mercy still didn’t understand that part of her life. She knew that whatever it was had made her an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. Any holy words spoken had burned her tongue and any time she had tried to lay her hand on a Bible, it sent a searing pain through her body. If any memory from her time previously walking the Earth that she had held onto, that was it. And it had made laying in a wooden box for centuries so much harder. Her faith not being an option to get her through the longest days of her undead life. So she made her husband and her child her faith with the hopes that she would one day see them again, but now that she was once more free and living in a completely different era in the history of the world, even she knew it was impossible.
“All I know is that I am an abomination.” She tugged at her bloodied dress in frustration. “A parasite that can still roam freely needing to take the lives of innocents to survive. Even…God’s…” She paused as pain coursed through her small figure leaving her to ball her fists, “green pastures and warm sunshine burn my skin if I am in them for too long. I assumed it must be some illness of my time, but I never recalled a name given to its description.” Mercy’s chest heaved up and down as the pain from speaking the Lord’s name slowly dissipated. “So no, I do not know the true reason why I crave the blood of a man or animal, but merely for the reason of my survival.”
—
Everything she was saying only confirmed what she was. If drinking blood to survive after being attacked wasn’t enough to clue him in, not being able to walk in daylight was the seal on what species she was. Watching choke the word ‘God’ out, seeing the pain it caused her, was only the bow on top of the neatly packaged picture she had given him. “Abomination is harsh.” But was it true? It’s what Caleb felt like most days and it’s what a lot of the undead he had met over the years felt like as well. Maybe they were all abominations. It wasn’t like they were meant to walk around this earth after experiencing a death.
“Mercy…I’m certain that I know what you are. I’ve seen quite a few of them over the years. I don’t know if the name was a common thing during the time you lived but they have one for it.” The zombie paused, hands going to his pockets as he tried to let that sink in a little. He was trying his best to be gentle. “You’re a vampire. The person who attacked you before you woke up and craved blood, they must have been one and they turned you.”
Caleb didn’t pretend to be an expert on the subject. He’d run into many while working in the cemetery but he’d never really known one personally so he was sure he didn’t know about everything that came with that life. But what he did know, he could try to help her with. “Unfortunately, blood is not an option. You’ll have to keep drinking it to survive. I don’t know if there’s any way around the sunlight thing either. I’m not an expert on vampirism but I can see what I can do to help you through this. The good thing? It’s easier to go undetected in this town. Plenty of them live around here.”
—
Mercy didn’t know any other way to describe herself. She could no longer be around people without the lingering threat of killing them. She couldn’t walk in the daylight. And worse of all God had shunned her from speaking his name, singing hymns, or saying her prayers. It was an impossible life to live, and the only reason she had been hanging onto it all before had been the existence of her family. Now, she was in a completely different time in the history of the Earth, and they had long been in the grave as she had once been, “Tis my judgment upon thine ownself.”
The small brunette held her head in shame, until Caleb had confessed to knowing what she was. And immediately, though with sorrow in her eyes, raised her head, “Pray tell, Caleb. What have I become?”
As she listened to him explain and finally put a name to what her illness was, Mercy couldn’t help but repeat the word over and over again in her mind, before saying it outloud, “Vampire…I know not of this word, but your description is accurate. I suffer from all of those afflictions; the hunger for blood being the worst of them.” If there had been more of these creatures during her time of living had it meant that the Salem Witch Trials were based on accuracy instead of accusations? It was a question she would ponder for another time. Instead, the realization that she wasn’t alone was more important, as was his offer to help her, “I am indebted to you, sir. Tis your kindness in this moment that means a great deal. The revelation of more…vampires…however, is quite the shock.”
Mercy paused for a moment, “Seeing as though you are willing to help me, how shalt we proceed?”
—
“I get that. The hunger isn’t easy. Mine’s not exactly the same but I experience it in a different way than you would…different than humans too.” Caleb didn’t exactly know if it was wise to bring up what he was to her but he also wanted her to know that he could understand in a way. He wasn’t just some random guy who didn’t know how to relate to her. Still, telling her that he was a zombie would come at another time as she was still processing what she was.
“Oh, no, you’re not…indebted to me. I just want to help. You looked very lost and…” He paused, not sure how to explain why he wanted to help her. It was something he did quite often for many different people but there was a pull with Mercy. It might have been because Caleb was also lost when he was turned. It took a long time to realize what he’d become and how to properly live as it so maybe there was a sort of kinship there. “Your story seems familiar, is all. Besides, the town doesn’t need a confused vampire on its hands. We’ll all suffer for it, not just you.” That might have been a little harsh but it was the truth. If she didn’t know how to control herself things could turn messy.
The zombie was still focused on the messy part, actually. “I think we should start with whatever body you left behind. We can’t leave it.” Especially if it was in his cemetery. Besides, he could harvest from them if they hadn’t started to decompose yet. “And then, I guess you’ll need somewhere to stay. I have extra room but I need you to promise that you won’t go into the basement of my house. It’s kind of off limits.” More than a little off limits. His stash of brains was littered across that entire basement, the supply for most of the zombies in Wicked’s Rest. It would most likely scare the hell out of her.
—
Mercy was curious, but she dared not question him. Not when he was offering a helping hand despite knowing what she was. There would be time for that, because, apparently, at this rate, she had all the time in the world, “I trust thee, Caleb. No need to explain thyself.” He was right in his assumption though, she was definitely lost. This world and all its changes had been nearly impossible to understand. And though she hadn’t encountered many people yet, she knew things were going to get a lot harder, especially in the upcoming days, until she could actually adjust and blend in more, “I fear you are correct. I don’t want to take the life of another innocent. Tis not fair nor right.”
Mercy knew that consuming the blood of the man who had freed her had been a sin. She had taken him away from his family, much like she had taken the woman who had been caring for her after being attacked, away from her family. The only right thing to do was to give him a proper burial, and it seemed that Caleb would be the one to help her, “I shall take you there. He deserves peace - the peace in which his family will never have. She hung her head in shame as she slowly climbed back up to her feet.
All the vampire had wanted to do was to pray for forgiveness and to ask for guidance, but in some ways she was at least getting the latter, especially when this man, who could have easily gone about his ways, had offered to help her. What she didn’t expect was for him to allow her a place to stay. Normally, she would have hesitated – what would it have said of her reputation, boarding with a man, whom she barely knew? But Mercy was in no position, and looking up to him with a true innocence, she spoke up, “I promise. It is your home, and I am merely a guest. It may have been many years since I have resided above ground, but I know my place, sir. And I will cause no problems.”
With that, Mercy turned away from him and began to walk in the direction from once she came. She wasn’t entirely sure how Caleb had planned to handle the body of the man she had feasted on, but just like everything else currently happening in her long and barely lived life, she would soon find out. She was just grateful to have someone on her side who, rather than shun her and point fingers, gave her the opportunity to explain herself, and if this was commonplace in the world now, then maybe life in this new time wouldn’t be so horrible after all.
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman @uncannysam
TIMING: Mid-December
SUMMARY: Sam decides to hit up the local record shop. Struggling to go in, since it was a favorite place to frequent with Zach, she's caught by Caleb talking to herself, who gives her a friendly little nudge forward, and once inside the pair strike up a conversation about music.
WARNINGS: None!
Buying new records had been a guilty pleasure for Sam when things got hard, or she just wanted to treat herself. But it had always been something she did with Zach. Something she had given up doing for a couple of months now, since that fateful night in the alley. And while she had sworn she was going to never go back, give up any kind of happiness really, for the cowardness she showed that night and the guilt she felt, here she stood at the entrance of their favorite place to hang out together, tears threatening to come out.
“Dammit. Quit being a coward and just go through the fucking door. You know Zach would be making fun of your stupid ass right now.” It was under her breath, just low enough that she hoped no one had heard, but a wave of embarrassment flooded her body, when she noticed someone staring at her as they walked past, “Sorry. Just deciding if I want to spend the money or not.” Sam stepped to the side as she still struggled to make up her mind.
---
Weekly trips to the record store was something he’d started as soon as Caleb was making his own money. He didn’t always buy anything with his finances but he did like to go and check out any new releases that had come in over the weekends and it had been a tradition for him for so many years now that it felt wrong to stop. Music was a big part of who he was, it had helped him get through many nights stuck at the Ellsworth house as he sat there drowning out the yelling with even louder bands playing heavy guitar riffs. Now the music just filled the silence that engulfed his life. He didn’t know which had been worse.
Walking up to the store, he spotted a young girl talking to herself, amping herself up to try and go inside. The words had him slowing his steps and Caleb couldn’t help but stop to look at her. Eyes watering, looking like she was exhausted, she seemed like she could use some help. “Uh, well…you could always just look. That’s what I do when I don’t want to give up food for the week.” He paused, biting the inside of his lip as he looked her over again. “Are you okay?”
---
His voice cut through the haze in her mind. Sam had been worn out lately, and she was still trying to process if what she had been seeing was actually real or something else. Something worse. What she had seen the night Zach died appeared to be real. How could such a small woman lift up her friend and choke him to death, and on top of that, all those other people…eating him. It was like the life she had known had become a living, breathing nightmare.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, that’s not a bad idea actually.” Sam had almost been afraid to look upwards at the man who was towering over her out of fear that he, too, was something other than normal, and when she finally had the courage to, her heart nearly beating out of her chest, she found he was just another average human being. Damn boy, you got hit with the pretty stick. Shut up, Sam. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just a little tired is all.” She looked back over towards the door, “After you, Prince Pretty.” Fuck.
---
Prince Pretty? What? Had he heard her right? Had to have. Why would he have created that in his mind? The girl looked like she was pretty out of it anyway so he wasn’t going to pay too much attention to it even if he was flattered. Clearing his throat, Caleb stepped up to the door and held it open for her, deciding to ignore the comment. She did just say she was tired after all. “No, after you.”
As he walked in after her, his eyes roamed the familiar shelves that felt like home. All of the usuals were there but Caleb had the new arrivals section in mind, heading that way as he spoke to the girl again. “Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for? I know you’re just browsing but it’s always nice to see new stuff from your favorite people if they’re out.” His fingers ran over the edge of a Taking Back Sunday album as he continued walking, knowing it was on his list for future purchases if he could bring himself to spend the money.
---
That’s always the best way to greet somebody you don’t know. Call them fucking Prince Pretty. A tint of red spread across her cheeks as she let her eyes fall to the ground, and she tucked her hypothetical tail between her legs. Yeah, if Zach was here, he’d be making fun of her so hard right now, “I’m just gonna…yeah.” Sam didn’t have to say much as she moved through the doorway. The embarrassment had seemed to keep her mind off of prior thoughts about not wanting to enter the store though.
Once inside, the familiar smell of vinyl and mustiness from the old building washed over Sam like a cool wave on a hot summer day. It felt like home and familiarity and regardless of her friend not being here with her physically, his memory was definitely still alive and making her smile, “Uh, no. Not really. Me and a friend used to come here pretty often, and this is the first time back since…yeah.” She let her eyes look towards the Taking Back Sunday record, before spotting the latest Ice Nine Kills album. Are you jelly right now, Zachers? Cause this shit is about to be all mine. Sam glanced up towards the ceiling.
---
The red cheeks were evidence of so many things to Caleb at that moment. First, he knew that she wasn’t undead like himself but that didn’t necessarily mean human, and second he knew that he had heard her right. His lips quirked up, even more flattered, but he still stayed quiet on the subject. At the mention of her friend though, he looked up sharply and watched as she trailed off, his mind pulling pieces together. Was that why she was almost in tears when she was standing outside?
Maybe she needed a friend now that her other one wasn’t around for whatever reason, a reason that seemed dark now that she was looking to the ceiling. Spotting the album in front of her, Caleb decided to continue the conversation in hopes that he might be able to help her out a little. “I’ve never heard of them. What are they like?”
---
Sam lowered her gaze back to the record and reached out for it, “Hell yeah! It’s the Silver Scream Splatter vinyl.” Taking it into her hands, she flipped it over and looked over the track listing. She had heard it a million times on Spotify (thank goodness for premium), but had held off on buying it out of the grief and guilt she had been feeling. But for whatever reason, today felt different. Especially with someone by her side. It didn’t seem so…lonely.
Looking up at Prince Pretty, Sam grinned, “Honestly, I didn’t know about them until my friend introduced me to their music many years ago. But they’re metal, so if you're not into that or horror movies, you might not like them.” Sitting the album back down, she pulled out her phone and opened up Spotify. “I listen to them way too much so they’re already at the top.” Like he needed to know that. Scrolling down, she pressed play on their most popular song, “A Grave Mistake”, before handing him her phone.
---
The sheer excitement that she held as she picked up the album was enough to calm Caleb’s worry to a degree. Music was a godsend, life saving for many including himself, and he’d always loved seeing the passion that others held for it. It was heartwarming. She had seemed so sad when he’d first walked up on her so it was nice to see that something could light her up like that. “Well, Avenged Sevenfold is one of my favorite bands but I’m not too much into horror movies.” He had enough horrors in his life, he didn’t need to add to it. “So this could go either way.”
He’d momentarily forgotten that music could be pulled up so quickly with a smart device. Caleb preferred record players, even old walkmans, but he’d ventured into this app a couple of years ago. He just kept forgetting it was a thing. “At the top, right.” He guessed that meant that it was in a favorite list of hers or something. As he listened to the song, he found himself smiling, his head nodding along the best he could with this type of music and his lack of rhythm. “They’re not bad. I could see adding them to my rotation.”
---
Sam watched as he moved along to the music. Her mind flashed back to when Zach had first introduced her. It wasn’t something she had expected to like. She had liked rock music. Classic stuff and music that her parents had listened to. She had grown up on stuff like The Clash and The Ramones, never venturing to anything harder than Green Day or Ozzy Osbourne, but Zach made all the difference. As soon as he played their music, she was hooked. Of course their sound was pretty different back then, but from there, she went down a metal rabbit hole, “Oh, I love A7X. And, yeah, if I see you around town, and you’ve listened to more of their stuff, I’d love to know your opinion.”
Without Zach here now, Samantha didn’t really have anyone to talk music with. There had always been her parents, but they didn’t listen to screamo or the stuff she vibed with most days, so it was hard. “What about you? What are you into?” As the song finished playing, Sam reached up and took her phone back, closing out the app in the process, and shoving it back into her pocket.
---
“Oh, for sure. I’m usually loitering around but you’ll most likely see me here again.” Loitering was not the best word to use there, Caleb wincing after it came out of his mouth. He was doing too much of that lately as it was, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was gaining a reputation as a creep around town. The creepy maintenance man who hangs out in cemeteries more often than not and stares at people…well, that sounded awful. “I just mean you’d probably see me around town. I don’t blend in that well.” Probably not another great thing to say. He was doing so well.
What was he into? Music was such a vast topic and he always hated that question only because Caleb knew he was going to forget important bands in his life. He always did. “My favorite, hands down, are The Smashing Pumpkins. I don’t know why I’ve just always loved them.” He knew why. They’d always been there for him. Whenever they were having a bad night at the Ellsworth house and he couldn’t escape he could turn the band on and drown everything out. They would take over his world for however long he needed, always there with a loud guitar or jarring lyrics. “Avenged Sevenfold, as stated, Brand New, Greenday, Three Days Grace…I could go on…”
---
Loitering? Who is this guy? Sam could tell the more he spoke, the more awkward it had gotten, but it was okay. She was used to awkward, because Zach had been awkward at times, and he often made her laugh. Plus, Caleb was tall, and she could see what he meant by not blending in well. Of course everyone was tall compared to her short little ass. “Ah, right. Being tall and all?” She laughed softly, “I get what you’re saying. My best friend was tall and awkward too. You kind of remind me of him just a little bit.” She looked down for a moment thinking of Zach, before putting her attention back on the guy in front of her and their conversation.
“Wow, such an eclectic taste, but I love it. Those are some solid bands. I grew up on Green Day cause my parents loved their music. And I may have had a little crush on Billie Joe. But that stays between you, me, and the posters on my bedroom wall at my parents’ house.” Sam turned her attention back on the albums, “You been in town long? I’ve seen a lot of new faces over the past several months, including some famous actress. I swear Wicked’s Rest gets weirder and weirder by the day.” That was an understatement considering what Sam could now do. “I’m Sam, by the way. I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” She turned back around and stuck her hand out.
---
“Yea, the tall thing, exactly.” Technically, it was the truth. He’d gotten used to slouching over the years, shrinking in on himself to try and hide away from a world that wasn’t so kind. He’d done it so often that he’d started having back issues before…well, he died. Now he could do it all he wanted without worrying. Clocking in another mention of this friend of hers, Caleb cleared his throat as he prepared for the awkward question that was coming. It seemed like she wanted to talk about him, and he was always willing to lend an ear. “You uh, you talk about this friend a lot. Are you guys fighting or something?” The zombie hoped that was all it was but somehow he knew the answer was going to be no.
“I don’t know about eclectic. I just like loud music. Loudness helps. I think at some point some people were also calling me emo? I don’t really know what that means though.” If he could say anything about this girl it would be that she didn’t seem that shy. Willingly admitting to a crush in front of someone she didn’t know at all, even if the crush was a celebrity, was something he wouldn’t have done himself. “Your secret is safe with me, promise. I don’t even know who I would tell anyway. Anyone else you’d recommend?”
The question made him chuckle, Caleb far from new. It was nice to know that he could still blend in. Maybe his efforts hadn’t been in vain. “Not new, no. I’ve actually been here my whole life. But I know what you mean with the new faces.” A lot of those new faces he’d seen actually turning up dead. Tourists were a big target, that was for sure. “Oh, you mean Mack? I think she mentioned that she was an actress.” Something that made him nervous, even more so now that he knew people would recognize her if something happened. “Oh, uh, Caleb. Nice to meet you.” His eyes went to her hand, the zombie nodding to her instead of reaching out himself. Hopefully she just took that as him not liking physical contact and not personally.
---
“It’s okay. I’m pretty fucking short and have gotten jokes about it my whole life.” It was one of the reasons why she had latched onto the little outcast boy the first year of being in Wicked’s Rest, because he didn’t make fun of her. At least not until they had gotten older, but by then, it was okay, because it was him. Anyone else and she’d throw them the bird or tell them to ‘fuck off’. “Zach, uh…” Sam had somewhat quieted down when the man standing in front of her asked his question. He was right, she had talked about him a lot for the short time they had been communicating without really realizing it, so it was only fair, “No, he…he died a couple of months ago. Um, sorry. I didn’t really realize I was talking about him so much.”
Sam was appreciative of the subject change to loud music, “But, yeah, loud music helps. Especially if you just want to rage out you know? Sometimes it’s needed. And emo? It’s like emotional hardcore. My Chemical Romance falls into that. Jimmy Eat World. And if anybody is making fun of you for it, they’re probably emo too. Unless they listen to that redneck bro country bullshit.” She shuddered at the thought. “I like country, but not country that talks about eating at fucking Applebees.” Sam felt strongly about her music. “As for recommendations, if you’re open to something other than rock, you should check out The Halluci Nation. A good song to start with is “Electric Pow Wow Drum.” But if you’re strictly rock, I also like Barns Courtney.”
“Wow, sorry I didn’t recognize you. For Wicked’s Rest to be so small, it’s still pretty big you know?” Sam had made it a point to explore the small town she was living in when she had been old enough to do so, but there were still untapped places she’d never ventured out to. He must have been in one of those places. “So there really is an actress living here then? Wow. That’s pretty cool. I’m guessing you know her?” She noticed he didn’t return the handshake and tried not to take it too personal, letting her hands instead go to some random album, “It’s nice to meet you, Caleb.” She had put her focus back on the whole reason she had come into the store.
---
“Don’t be sorry.” Caleb almost regretted asking the question. Dealing with as many grieving people as he has over the years he thought that he’d be better at comforting others during a time of loss. He was mostly in the background, yes, but it was sometimes hard to escape loved ones when a body was involved. Yet, he was still as awkward as ever when these situations arose. “Don’t feel bad for talking about someone you loved. It should make you feel better.” With Jack gone, he also knew that sometimes just speaking about him made him happy. Just remembering the person they were was always nice and brought back good memories. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry.”
Her words had him raising an eyebrow, curious about what she meant. “Rage out? How do you rage out? Truthfully, I just like tuning the world out with it. There’s nothing like sitting in your room with the music as loud as you can stand it while ignoring every problem I’ve ever had.” He had to laugh as she went on about the ‘bro country’ as she called it, but it also made him realize how singular his tastes really were as he’d never heard the phrase before. “I like Jimmy Eat World too, I’ve heard of My Chemical Romance but never listened to them. As for singing about Applebees…what?” He kept the names of every artist she was saying in mind, planning on checking out some of them later. A lot of them sounded interesting.
“Oh, no, again you don’t have to be sorry. You know how many tourists we get around here? New faces all the time, I get it.” Nodding, his mind went to his newest client as the worries of his business started to seep back into place after a temporary lull. He still owed Mack a delivery and Caleb knew he’d probably have to sacrifice some of his personal stock for it. “Yea, I’ve talked to her a few times. She’s pretty cool, kind of secluded though so I’m not sure how much she likes being recognized.” Noticing that she was putting all of her attention towards the albums, he sighed softly, trying to explain so that he didn’t seem like too much of a jerk. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t really like physical contact much when it comes to new people.” Or all people. Yea, all people sounded right.
---
Sam had listened to his explanation of why he didn’t want to be touched. She could respect that. Some people just didn’t like physical touch, and she had to remember that. After moving from her home in Kahnawake, traditions and how people treated one another had changed quite a bit. Though she was still a child, she could tell that things weren’t the same, especially with how she watched people treat her parents and other children treat her. And as she grew older, she had learned how to better fit in, but refused to fully let go of the lessons her parents continued to teach her, especially on the occasional trip back home to see family and friends, “I get it. I’m sorry too. Sometimes I forget not all people like to be touched.”
She sat the album back down that she had been looking at, “And you’re fine. I can’t go the rest of my life not talking about him. You asked about raging? I rage by blasting the music as loud as I can and letting loose with dancing as hard as I can. Me and Zach used to do that a lot. There’s a little underground metal club we would go to sometimes and mosh, until we couldn’t stand up anymore.” Sam laughed thinking back on one night when it had gotten out of hand and she ended up getting elbowed in the face. “I think you’d like My Chemical Romance. The bro country, not so much, but I mean to each their own I guess.”
She moved over to the other side of the aisle, “That’s cool about your actress friend. I don’t blame her for wanting her privacy. I’d be the same way.” As her eyes scanned the albums, she laid eyes on one and had decided this was the one she was getting today, “Fuck yeah! The Riddlin’ Kids.” She held the album up proud of her find.
---
With the mutual apologies, Caleb decided to let the subject go. He didn’t feel like explaining further, really couldn’t explain further, and she seemed to be fine now that he’d given her something. He just hoped that she wasn’t putting on a front and he hadn’t actually hurt her feelings and unfortunately that wonder would probably take over his mind for the next week at least.
“You probably shouldn’t go the rest of your life without doing so.” He really had no room to lecture here or push her to talk about her friend more since he had barely spoken about his own loss. He’d been too worried and it wasn’t like he didn’t see the man every now and then. It was rather jarring. But encouraging others to speak their pain aloud? He’d never been a stranger to that. “As fun as that sounds, I don’t dance. Never have, most likely never will.” Especially now that Caleb was clumsier than he’d used to be. At least she was laughing as she talked about him this time, an improvement. “I will definitely skip the bro country, thank you for the warning. Applebee’s isn’t even that great.”
He did glance over at the section that held the My Chemical Romance band, picking up one of their albums and turning it over to inspect the back. But when her uninhibited celebration came about his eyes were back to her and the album she was proudly holding. “Again, not sure who they are.” Caleb really needed to expand on his musical tastes. “I feel like I listen to the same bands over and over now.”
---
“You know, I don’t think I could go more than a day without talking about him, so I don’t think I have to worry about that.” She laughed warmly at the thought of her friend as she walked back over to Caleb with the album in hand, “Not even in the privacy of your own home? That’s mostly where I let it all out now, with the exception of being around family.” Sam loved keeping rhythm to the music, especially if it had a great beat. She had imagined that if she were back home with her family, she’d dance publicly, but in more of a spiritual respect for her people. Not headbanging and other high energy, throwing caution to the wind kind of movements she often did, especially since Zach had died. “Yeah, no problem, and honestly, I agree. I’ve never had a decent meal at Applebee’s.” Now LongHorn had been a different story.
“That’s a great album. A good one to start out with if you think you want to start listening to their music.” Sam had loved The Black Parade. “Do you mind?” Taking the album out of his hand, she walked up to the counter with both the Riddlin’ Kids and My Chemical Romance and handed them to the cashier. Once she had paid for both things, she walked back over to Caleb and handed him the bag with the My Chemical Romance album in it, “Here. My treat so you can say you listen to other bands.” She grinned as she looked up at him.
---
“No, not even in private.” Dancing had always felt unnatural to him and his awkward level shot sky high whenever he attempted, even embarrassed to do it when nobody was around. “The screaming sounds fun though…” Caleb might have to try that sometime. It would probably help, especially now that he couldn’t even talk to the people he would normally go to. He’d always heard that screaming could release some of the stress and tension of life but had never really tried it before.
The album was about to be put back, the zombie making a mental note to make it his next purchase, when she plucked it from his grip. His eyebrows furrowed, wondering if she had decided to get it for herself as she made her way to the counter up front, until she was actually handing him the bag. “Oh…wait, no, you didn’t have to do that.” Caleb could never take anything gracefully, even birthday gifts. It always made him feel bad to have people spend their hard earned money on him since he knew how bad things could get. He never wanted to be the cause of someone not being able to eat that week.
But she was handing it to him and if he refused that would have been rude. So, he took the album reluctantly while giving her a nervous smile. “Thank you, that was very sweet. I definitely have to give it a shot now.” Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, Caleb looked anywhere but her eyes, not sure how to continue with the conversation. But she was ready to go after having made her purchases and he was spared the humiliation of trying to push past the uncomfortable feelings to act like a normal human being. He thanked her again, eyes going back to the album as she walked out of the shop. No matter what people said about this town, it was nice to know that kind people still walked the streets.
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman, @realmackross
TIMING: Week of September 18th
SUMMARY: Mack meets her brain dealer for the first time, and the pair actually find they have more in common than they thought.
WARNINGS: Alcohol mention tw, brief mention of suicidal ideation tw, and lots of talk of body parts since these are zombies lmao
It wasn’t uncommon for people to be walking around Wicked’s Rest with an igloo cooler in their hands, something that Caleb counted on when he had to make deliveries to one of his clients. Most people assumed that the man loved to fish, using the cooler for his lunch or whatever he caught in one of the many lakes or the ocean and he was just fine with keeping that illusion up even if he didn’t like to fish. His foster dad had taken him a few times when he’d been younger but Caleb had always felt bad for the poor wiggling creatures as they gasped for air on the end of a hook, something that had been a source of ridicule before. No, he stayed away from that these days. But if anybody asked, it was one of his main hobbies in life.
He pulled the cooler from the passenger seat of his beat up pick up, the vehicle looking so out of place in the Harborside neighborhood. When Taylor had texted him the address he hadn’t been expecting such an immaculate looking place especially since they’d always met in public before. It was the first time Caleb had been to her residence.
The sprawling gate that stood before him puzzled the zombie until he spotted the little intercom, Caleb’s brows furrowing before he slowly reached out to push the button. There was a beep and he stood there for a second, not sure whether he was supposed to talk into it or not. This was completely different than what he was used to. “Uh…I’m looking for Taylor?” It was posed as a question and he grimaced, knowing he sounded so stupid. “Yea, um…Taylor gave me this address for a delivery. Is she here?”
—
Mackenzie hadn’t been back home too long. It had been weird coming back. It was so quiet. Eerily quiet fitting for the zombie herself, but she had already missed Monty, the farm hands, and Sallama Gomez. She knew she could go back and visit anytime she wanted, but what was she supposed to do all the other moments of the day? It didn’t help that both Winter and Taylor were mad at her. And she knew Alex was probably spending most of her time with Cass. Mackenzie had felt lonelier now then she had before going off the rails as a possessed zombie.
But one other issue that Mack was facing was the fact that for her fresh stock of brains, she was going to have to meet with the supplier herself. Something Taylor had arranged in the past. And speak of the devil, she had heard the intercom system go off.
To say she wasn’t nervous was an understatement. What was this person like? Did they know who she was? Were they going to try anything? I mean, she was dead, so what could they possibly get from her? Hearing the confused voice on the other end made Mack a little hesitant, but if she didn’t want a repeat of the past week's events then she was going to have to face the man herself.
Pressing the button, Mackenzie unlocked the gate. She had refused to say anything over the intercom system, rather opting to see if he was alone, when he reached the front door. Thank goodness for security cameras.
—
When he heard the buzz and then the sounds of the gates swinging open, Caleb stood up straight and stared down at the little box. Would Taylor send him to his death? They’d been doing these exchanges for some time now and he’d never gotten the indication that she would sell him out but the lack of an answer from the other end had his mind spinning with the possibility. His eyes traveled to the gate that was now sitting open for him before moving back to gaze at his truck, the zombie contemplating getting inside the vehicle and getting the hell away from this place before something came at him.
He was dead already, yes, but that didn’t mean he liked being attacked any more than the next person. Dying sucked and it hurt like a bitch.
Coming to the conclusion that Taylor could have sold him out at any point during their interactions, Caleb gripped the cooler tighter and started to move through the gates towards the house. “Jesus…” The word was mumbled to himself as he took in the place, now wondering if he had been undercharging Taylor this whole time. As slow as he was going, he was able to marvel at the beauty of the estate for at least a full minute before he was absentmindedly wrapping his knuckles against the front door.
—
Mackenzie had already watched as the stranger moved up the driveway and towards the front door. A part of her had started to worry noticing he wasn’t the most clean cut man on the planet, but she also knew that not much could hurt her. Well as long as he didn’t set her on fire or try to chop her head off. She could still recall the vague marks around her neck where something had tried to saw her head off during her run as a rogue zombie, after touching the flats. And it had only further added to the mystery of what had happened those moments of not being present.
As she heard the knock at the door, she gave him another look over, before reluctantly making her way forward. The last thing she had wanted was to hurt anyone else, so she knew it was a given that she would need the brains.
With a deep breath, Mackenzie made her way forward and finally opened the door, “Hey, are you the guy with the…brains…” The word hung in her throat. She hated that she had to survive off the misfortune of others. Even as an actress, she had tried to stay humble and kind knowing how celebrities were seen by a lot in the world, but this was just different. And with every brain she consumed, she had learned to say thank you.
—
“You’re not Taylor.” To be fair, Taylor had never actually told Caleb what she was doing with the brains. The woman had touched his hand once and he’d noticed how warm it had been even with his limited senses so after some questions he knew she was getting them for a client, but she’d never told him who the client was before. Mostly because he’d never asked. If he was feeding a zombie he was keeping that zombie from hurting the living and that’s all that he needed to know. But for some reason he’d been picturing some guy in a fancy business suit who didn’t want to be seen buying the unsavory product, not a young girl who had a problem just saying the word ‘brain’ without sounding like she was going to be sick after doing so.
He clutched the cooler even tighter, not sure if he wanted to trust this interaction just yet. “She never mentioned that I was bringing this to somebody else. Is she here?” Could anyone really blame him for being cautious? Caleb was selling brains for god’s sake, anyone would want to have visual confirmation of the usual client if some random stranger came to the door for the delivery, a delivery of a product he had yet to confirm for the blonde. But his silence had to be indication enough that he was, in fact, holding the organ.
Besides, Caleb’s supply was already running low and he didn’t need to be giving out an order to someone he couldn’t trust. If something happened and he needed to replace it, that was another few brains down the drain. “I just…do you have the information I gave her, at least?”
—
“Nope. I’m Mackenzie.” She looked at him and then down at the cooler. It was hard knowing what the contents were that he was holding in his hand. Where did he get them? Did she even want to know that? There were a lot of questions swimming through her mind, especially since returning from Monty’s farm. She knew of two people she had killed, but had she killed more? Is that how he was getting them or was he just a middle man? Being a zombie had been hard enough, but she had always been at a distance when it came to brain supply until now.
“She gets them for me. She’s not here. She’s in California. She’s my assistant.” Realizing this wasn’t the best transaction to be making on the porch, she stepped back and allowed room for him to come in. Was she nervous letting some random guy in her house, yes, but she could defend herself if need be, “Let me go get my phone. It’s got all the information on it. And if you don’t mind shutting the door behind you when you come in. Figure we might as well take care of this inside rather than outside. You never know who could be watching.” She hadn’t seen any paparazzi since being in Wicked’s Rest, but who knew what this town could draw to it.
Leaving her trust in him, Mackenzie ran upstairs to grab her phone from her bedroom. Surely this guy was legit. He had seemed just as suspicious of her as she was of him. And if it was one thing the young actress had come to learn, it’s that most people who knew about the supernatural tended to be leery of anyone they talked to. But considering all the ways that things could go wrong, you kind of had to.
—
“Your assistant, right.” That wasn’t uncommon. Most people who paid for take out brains were able to afford people to take care of the unsavory parts of the business. He dealt with a lot of those in his choice of a side business and he honestly preferred the assistants on most occasions. They were usually nicer. Not that this girl seemed malicious in any way. No, she just seemed…so young. Of course, looks can be deceiving, especially when dealing with those that had to live off of brains. As his brain went back and forth between the possibilities of her own situation, Caleb barely heard the words that came from her mouth, the zombie still standing outside the door as she walked away.
But something registered in his mind, the man looking behind him as he thought of who could be watching them. Why did she have people watching her? Who was this girl? He had two choices here: stay outside and risk this transaction being witnessed or step into a stranger's house not knowing what was waiting for him inside. Ultimately, he decided to step inside and shut the door behind him. He'd deal with the consequences later.
“You probably uh...probably shouldn't store that on your phone.” Caleb called after her, not knowing where she'd disappeared to and only hoping she'd heard his words within the gigantic house. Yea, he definitely needed to start charging more. Might even be able to afford something better than his apartment soon.
”Did you say someone is watching you? Why? Are you in trouble or something?“ If so, they had something in common. Did he want to deal to a client that was also being watched by law enforcement though? They would only bring unnecessary drama to each other. She'd been loyal for months though and he didn't want to leave her empty handed...if she ate somebody because he'd denied services Caleb knew that he would never forgive himself.
—
Mackenzie slipped into her bedroom and snagged the phone off the nightstand. As she was in there, she had heard him say something, but with her hearing not being what it used to, it sounded more like a mess of jumbled words. Just one of the many perks of being a zombie. She would find out what he wanted when she went back downstairs, but first she double tapped the phone screen to see if she had any notifications from Taylor.
None.
With a sad sigh, she left the room and met the man with her food supply back downstairs, “What were you saying? I couldn’t understand you. Sorry, my hearing isn’t what it used to be.” She felt weird saying that considering how young she was. As she waited for him to respond, she began pulling the receipt up on her phone, “Here. Is this what you needed?” Mackenzie turned the phone to face him and held it up. “Is that enough proof?” She understood what he was doing was probably a dangerous line of work to be in, but it didn’t make it any less awkward to be meeting the person who supplied you with human brains.
—
”Of course...I should have known that, actually.“ Why would she have better hearing than him? They were the same after all. Dulled senses came with the territory of being dead, at least for a zombie. ”I was just saying, you probably shouldn't keep that on your phone...especially if you have people watching you?“ Something Caleb was still curious about which was why he posed that last sentence as a question. Even if he wasn't going to deny services he would still like to know how cautious he needed to be with her.
He eyed the phone, squinting as he got a little closer to the screen but not wanting to reach out and take it from her . There was delicate merchandise in his hands and he tried to make it a practice to not touch other people's things if he could help it. But it was Caleb’s information that was provided when a purchase was made, discreet descriptions and all. It should have made him feel better about this but it didn't. He never felt good providing brains directly to a new person, it lingered for a while afterwards until the paranoia could have time to subside.
”Yea, seems to be in order.“ Caleb tapped the top of the cooler, not handing it over since the supply would need to be transferred. He probably should get another one just in case but right now this was his only one. ”Where should I put these? I imagine you don't want them sitting around your living room.“
—
It was weird hearing someone say that. That they should’ve known her hearing was shit. Did that mean that he was a part of the undead too? Mackenzie didn’t want to ask. It was a very personal question, and one that she never really liked answering herself. But she couldn’t pretend like he didn’t at least know what she was, since he was delivering her brains after all, “Right. Yeah, I’ll probably delete this after you leave. Wouldn’t want it getting into the wrong hands…” Fans. Tabloids. Police. There were a slew of people she was trying to avoid at all costs, when it came to her zombism. “It kinda sucks being an actress and having to survive off of brains. Privacy is a precious thing.” She sighed softly.
Looking between him and the cooler, she could see the wear and tear on the thing. This had to have been a one man operation right? And he hadn’t set it down or let go of it since he had arrived. It may not have seemed like it, but Mackenzie paid attention to this kind of thing, “Glad it’s all in order. Really didn’t want to have to go without these.” She looked back up at him, “Follow me. I’ve got a fridge downstairs solely for this purpose.”
Mackenzie turned away from him and began walking down a smaller set of stairs, before turning right and going into a room that held her two extra refrigerators. Pulling the door back, she couldn’t help but see all the random containers of stray body parts and a few extra brain containers, “Just sit them in there. And thanks for coming by. I know a guy in your line of work probably doesn’t really like making house calls.” She moved away from the fridge, but continued to watch him.
—
”An actress?“ Somehow that seemed worse than her being watched by the police. It wasn't just a department's worth of people with eyes on her, it was most of the world, at least those who cared about celebrity gossip. The house, the assistant, it all made more sense now at least and Caleb’s suspicions about all of this were starting to fade, as much as they could, anyway. ”Wow...yea that seems like it would be rough. Being in the public eye can't be easy, it's hard enough being a nobody and having to navigate this.” He felt for her, he really did. Always having people following her around and he assumed she never had much privacy, it must have sucked, especially with how she had to survive now.
“Downstairs...right, this place is huge.” Caleb walked after the blonde, his eyes traveling over the space as they went. “For the record, I don't want you to have to go without these either. Don't need hungry zombies walking around this place. There's already enough going on.” Enough people dying. He saw the influx coming into the funeral home on the daily, it was getting out of hand. Erin had even shown concern over how many people they were seeing.
The many refrigerators had him slowing his steps, Caleb wondering how many brains this girl actually had in them. They had expiration dates, right? Did zombies get sick from bad brains? Probably something he should know. But when she opened one and he saw the other body parts it registered that she wasn't a brains only type of girl. He, himself, hadn't had other body parts since his first kill but he couldn't judge. Food was food, especially if it kept them satisfied. “I'm Caleb, by the way. I don't know if I introduced myself before. I was just expecting Taylor and got a little nervous when it wasn't her.“ Kneeling down, he started to put the stock that he'd brought next to the other containers, shaking his head at her comment. ”No, house calls are better, actually. Not being out in the public is preferred. I just want to know who I'm meeting when it comes to them, you know? Mostly so I know I'm not being set up.“
—
Rough was an understatement when you were killing people without realizing it. It’s why, when Taylor had first found out about services where people actually offered brains, Mackenzie found herself so relieved. If she had to do this to survive all the time, she’d gladly take the silver bullet to the brain or whatever the trope was for zombies. This was never anything she’d wish on anybody. Not even her worst enemy, and she was pretty sure she had gained a few of those over the years, “Yeah. Apparently that’s just my life now. It’s also why I moved here to Wicked’s Rest. It’s a bit quieter, I guess. And there’s no paparazzi lurking on every corner.”
“You’d think I would have chosen something a bit smaller huh? For wanting to be so discreet. But when I saw this place I fell in love.” She really did like her house. It was ridiculous for just one person, but she had known of other more well known actors and actresses with much larger houses who were living the single life. It was kind of ridiculous the more she thought about it, but here she was.
“No, I don’t think so, but it’s nice to meet you, Caleb. I’m Mackenzie.” Honestly, he had every right to be nervous. She would have been too, if this was what she did for a living. It took a lot of guts to sell brains to the undead, especially if you were the supplier and middle man, “I can imagine this must be a nerve wracking job. I know I couldn’t do it. And if house calls make you feel more comfortable then, that’s how we can do this.” Especially considering she was pretty sure Taylor was still pissed at her and would be for a while. “Can I ask you a personal question?” She was almost hesitant, but decided to just go for it, “Are you a zombie too? Or did you just figure that you could make a killing off the brain business?” She paused realizing what she had said, “No pun intended by the way.”
—
“Quieter, yea...“ He let out a breath of sardonic amusement, knowing that most people didn't realize what a dangerous town this was. He'd been bitten by the undead, fought with vampires in the cemetery, and countless other things throughout Caleb’s life that he couldn't quite explain. If Wicked's Rest hadn't been all he knew, if there weren't people that he cared for still living in this town, he would have moved a long time ago. ”Just be careful around here. There's a lot of things that are more dangerous than zombies. At least you can't really die unless somebody knows what they're doing.“ He was starting to talk too much, but seeing a fridge full of body parts in her house didn't exactly inspire suspicion anymore. Ironically, it inspired trust more than anything.
After placing the last of the containers in the fridge, Caleb closed his cooler and stood, not really holding onto it as tightly this time around. Coolers could be replaced, brains were scarce. He closed her fridge and turned to face her, his eyes moving around this room as well. ”I mean, you have to be comfortable with your living situation. If this is what you like then it's what you like. I've just never been inside a place this big before.“ No, he was used to the suburbs and then his single bedroom home on the outskirts of the suburbs. Nothing this fancy had ever been available to him.
Surveying the girl, he smiled at her willingness to meet up here from now on. It was a nice offer to make him more comfortable but it wasn' t just about him, was it? ”I appreciate that but it's also about what you want. I'm not fond of inviting strangers into my own house, especially with what I keep there.“ Of course, she kept the same things he supposed and he was about to say as much before her question caught him off guard.
It wasn't like he enjoyed talking about what he was but he'd also never been asked outright before. Considering she was a zombie herself, not to mention the fridge that stood behind him full of different pieces of other people, he felt like he could safely say something about his own status. It wasn't easy though. It would be the first time he admitted it to someone other than himself and even if he’d wanted someone to talk to about it he was still reluctant to say it out loud. ”I...am, yes. I'm not the type of person who would do this if I didn't feel like I had to.“ Caleb bit down on the inside of his bottom lip, a little disturbed by something else she had said. ”I don't kill, by the way.“ Or he hadn't yet except for the unfortunate accident. He might have been considering it but the zombie wouldn't call himself a murderer just yet. ”Your brains are provided violence free...at least by my own hand, anyway.“ And for the time being.
—
Mackenzie listened to him. It sounded like he had definitely had more experience than she did. Of course, it felt like most people that lived in this town and knew of things that went bump in the night, knew more than her. She was just doing good enough to take things day by day. One step at a time. And it was somewhat reassuring knowing that people HAD to know what they were doing in order to end her undead life. But at the same time accidental deaths were a thing as well, and even she still didn’t fully understand how zombies took that final nap, “Thanks for the heads up. I’m still kind of new to this life, if you can’t tell.”
Mack was pretty sure he could tell. Most people who knew anything about the supernatural could probably tell she was as green as the grass outside on a summer day, but just like anything else in life…err death…practice made perfect and with time came experience. Luckily for her (Yay.) she had all the time in the world now, until that so-called accidental death or person with the right skillset came along, “Yeah, it’s fine. Besides, I think meeting in public somewhere would be worse. At least here, you know it’s guaranteed to be private.” Aside from the people in this town who already knew her secret and would sometimes come by for a visit. She’d just make it a point to schedule around Caleb’s visits. “I mean if that’s okay with you? I know World’s End Isle is a bit of a drive.”
She shifted her weight and leaned back against the wall behind her. Mackenzie was enjoying the conversation they were having. It was nice coming across someone else like her even if he was her brain supplier, “Thanks for telling me. I know it’s not something you probably really shout from the rooftops. Lord knows I don’t.” Unless I try to eat somebody and they just figure it out on their own. Sigh. “And I appreciate knowing that. I’m not gonna ask for the details, because I don’t really want to know, but as long as more people aren’t getting hurt just to keep me alive.” In the movies, being a zombie looked so easy, but in real life, it was a completely different story.
—
God, she was new, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like he was super experienced himself but he had to have a couple of years on her at least and he had lived in Wicked’s Rest his whole life. It wasn’t like him to stick around a client's place after a drop off, everything he did with this business was strictly professional, but when it came to someone who didn’t know much about this life he had a duty to try to help, right? Caleb eyed her for a moment before he spoke again, finally making a decision on the offer he had been considering giving her. “You know…I’m not an expert but if you have questions I could try to help. Not guaranteeing I know everything, of course, but I think I might know more than you at this point.” A pause, the man wondering if he should even ask the next question on the tip of his tongue. It was personal but she’d gone for it before so he decided to as well. “How long have you been dead?”
It had been a bit of a drive in but in truth, Caleb actually enjoyed it. The scenery had been so nice along the quiet roads and he hadn’t really been to this part of town in a while. Beides, Mack's privacy fence was more than enough to convince him to drive out here more often. “I don’t think you’re that far, really. I like seeing this side of town anyway. When I was younger I used to go to Harmony Hill a lot because the sound of the ocean in a quiet graveyard was calming.” Why had he said that? She didn’t need to know that. Clearing his throat, the zombie tried to play it off. “I don’t mind coming out here at all.”
A smile finally graced her with her words, Caleb shaking his head almost immediately. Why would anyone want to blurt out they were dead like it was no big deal? There were only a handful who knew what he was and it had all either come out because the other had their own secrets or…well, he’d been caught with a body. “No, I don’t exactly advertise what I am. I don’t know a lot of zombies that are proud of what they’ve become.” And the ones who were proud weren't people he associated with much. Purists, people who wanted to get their own brains the violent way. “It’s good to know you feel that way.” Even if the guilt of his impending status change to murderer was starting to eat at him. Maybe that wasn’t the best solution after all if most of his clients felt the same.
–
The more zombies Mackenzie met in Wicked’s Rest, the more she began to feel accepted. Monty and a farm full of the undead had been exactly what she had needed after her rampage. Had she dealt with this alone, she didn’t know where she’d be. And maybe Taylor handing over the reins on getting her own brains was for the best. No, she hadn’t known what she was getting herself into today, but right now, in this exact moment, she was glad, “Really? Thank you. Thank you so much.” A smile crept over her face. It was warm and appreciative of the fact that he was willing to help her. However, the question she had just asked him had somewhat caught her off guard, but it was only fair that she returned an answer, especially since he was willing to, “Two years. And most of that time was spent just trying not to eat the people around me. That’s why Taylor has been such a big help in all of this. She didn’t run or tell anybody after I told her.” Mackenzie was easily starting to realize she owed a lot of people for helping her to stay on her feet through all of this.
Mack let her eyes and her smile drop, the thought of Taylor and then Winter coming to mind. Thankfully Caleb’s confession had pulled her attention away from two of the people she had regretted hurting, “Oh really? I haven’t been to Harmony Hill yet, but I can agree with that sentiment about the ocean. This house kind of reminds me of home and my family. I miss California so fucking much. Maybe one day, I can go back…” She sighed softly.
“You’re right about that. I mean why did we get zombies, when we could have been something else you know? Like a unicorn or a BigFoot?” Her mood had perked back up. Turning and moving back up the stairs, Mack replied, “If I ever say differently, then please put me out of my misery. This is hard enough as it is. I don’t want to actually come to the point in my undead life that I enjoy eating people.” She moved towards the kitchen, “Do you want something to drink? One thing I have learned is that the stronger or spicy the taste the more enjoyable it is.” She wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be there, but she could at least be a good hostess to her new undead friend.
—
Two years, not long but enough to know the basics. At least she’d found her food source, that was always the biggest struggle for most zombies who had just turned. Caleb didn’t have that struggle, thankfully. Even when he didn’t understand his hunger, whenever he lost control it was usually around a body that was already there being prepped or when he was burying somebody after a service. That was something he’d always been thankful for. He nodded at her answer, a question forming on the tip of his tongue but it was one he wasn’t willing to ask. They barely knew each other and he knew if anyone had ever dared ask about who he’d killed over the years he would shut down. It was too personal, even for someone who had gone and was going through the same thing. “It’s nice that you have people you can talk to about it. Most of the ones that know about me are because of…well, telling them wasn’t intentional.”
But something in her expression changed. That grateful smile that had lit up her face was nowhere to be found after she’d spoken of her assistant and Caleb once again wondered why the woman wasn’t there. Was she really gone on business? He didn’t want to be accusatory though and he couldn’t quite muster up the guts to ask if that was actually the case or if something bad had happened. Or maybe it had something to do with her home. She did seem pretty torn up about not being able to return. “Is there a reason you can’t go back or…just trying to keep people safe?”
As amusing as the thought of being a big foot was, he already had the height part down, he couldn’t bring himself to muster up the smile that threatened to form. The thought only served to remind him more of what he was. “Or…you know, stayed human.” He hadn’t even expected the sadness in his tone and Caleb closed his eyes when he realized how that could bring the mood way down. Frustrated with himself, he shook the thoughts away as he followed her to the kitchen area. “I try to stay away from putting people down but I think I could send someone your way. Maybe?” Did he actually know anyone who would do that? Aria for sure wouldn’t and Erin shouldn’t even know that zombies exist…maybe K.O. if he knew what was going on. The man was chaotic enough. Now he was smiling though, Caleb eyeing the fridge and wondering if she meant what he thought she did. “Did you spike the water with hot sauce or something?”
—
When he mentioned the unintentional telling, Mack’s mind went automatically back to the sleepover. It had been a disaster, and one she was just grateful hadn’t ended in tragedy. It seemed like wherever Mackenzie went these days, trouble followed, and it felt like most of it was from her own hand, “Yeah, that’s how it was for me. Mostly unintentional. Try zombing out in a room full of people you were just starting to become friends with during a sleepover.” She felt safe admitting that to him. He was like her after all. He understood the repercussions of being hungry when living people were around. Or at least she assumed he did. How could you be a zombie and not experience that at some point?
Mackenzie walked to the fridge and opened the door. There were so many options, but most of it tasted like nothing. She had still tried to incorporate regular food into her diet, but it was hard. However, glancing over, she noticed the bottle of Fireball sitting on the counter. It was unopened and fresh. And if he wanted to share a drink, she’d crack it, but if not, she’d wait. “Yeah, I’m so afraid of hurting my family. And they don’t know about any of this. There’s only two people from back home that know about what I am now.” Taylor and Winter. The two people she felt she needed most in this world right now, and the two who probably hated her the most.
She turned her attention back to Caleb, who had mentioned staying human, and on that note, shifted her eyes back into the fridge. The last thing Mackenzie wanted to do was acknowledge that. To think about it more than she already did in her waking life. “I’ll keep that in mind, about the person you know.” The conversation was already starting to make her mood drop even lower, but she was grateful when he brought up the hot sauce and water, “What? No. Even I wouldn’t stoop to that level.” She shut the fridge and leaned over grabbing the bottle off the counter, “I meant more like Fireball or maybe a Bloody Mary.” She turned around with a smile back on her face and held up the whiskey.
—
His smile slipped at her confession, Caleb not sure whether to be horrified or concerned or both. Yea, he’d lost control before but only around…people who were now dead or who’d already been dead. It was enough to make him realize how dangerous he could truly be and he decided that he needed to double down on keeping them both well fed if he could. “That…that had to be scary when you came to. Are they all, I mean…they’re alive, right?” There was no easy way to ask that question but his concern, the anxiety building throughout him, he needed to know for his own peace of mind. He wasn’t quite sure how everyone would have made it out of that situation unharmed though.
“That’s definitely understandable. I can’t say that I blame you.” When this first happened, if he hadn’t worked for the Nichol’s family, he would have stayed far away from them. There were people that he had pushed away, people that he still hadn’t reached out to, so he could empathize. Probably more than anyone else in her life. “I didn’t really have the resources to get away but I did push aside a lot of friendships. I wish I could say it gets easier.” But it didn’t. It never would. Caleb was always going to worry about the people he cared for and even if he was branching out and dating now he didn’t believe he could allow himself to get too close.
There it was. That look only to turn away, he knew it well. It was a signature move for him, even before his death. Caleb wanted to say sorry, wanted to apologize for bringing it up, but he let the subject fall. Instead, he focused on the offered drink, the zombie setting the cooler down before he leaned his arms against the kitchen island. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a Fireball. Sounds interesting, what makes it easy to taste for us?”
—
Mackenzie paused, realizing what zombing out in a room full of people probably meant, “Sorry. Yeah, yeah. They’re all safe. My friend knew about my fridge downstairs and grabbed what I needed. Nobody got hurt, but all I can think about is if they had. I think somewhere subconsciously that’s why I live in Fort Knox, because I’m afraid of what could happen.” She wasn’t about to mention her zombie rampage through town. As much as she was already starting to like this guy, she didn’t really know him. At least not yet, anyways.
“I’m sorry you had to push away people you cared about. It’s never easy. And then they don’t understand why you’re doing it, so it makes things ten times harder. But the idea of hurting someone you care about��it’s just easier to have them hate you.” Having her parents or Winter or anyone from her past hate her had been so much easier then experiencing the loss of Brody, and it wasn’t because she loved those people any less. It had been due to the fact that they were still living their lives and thriving. Brody was not, and Mackenzie couldn’t ever fix that. “At least, as much as it sucks to say, there’s others out there like us, so we’re not completely alone, you know?”
Mackenzie smiled fondly as she got out two shot glasses from the cabinet, “Really? I mean it takes a lot to get a zombie drunk. I don’t know if you’ve figured that out yet, so don’t worry. But what makes it easy for us to taste is the copious amounts of cinnamon in it. I wouldn’t have recommended this stuff in life, but now that we’re both of the deceased nature, it doesn't really matter.” She went back to the fridge and got out a couple of different bottles of hot sauce. “And if you want to be really wild, you’ll throw some of this in there for extra taste!” She sat the bottles in front of him and began pouring the shots.
This was definitely not how she had seen her brain delivery going, but she wasn’t exactly opposed to it either. Anytime Mack found another zombie to connect with, which was few and far between, it seemed to have made the undead life a little more bearable. Someone who knew exactly what she was going through just somehow made things a little better, and she had hoped she was offering that same grace to him. But it had also just been nice to have someone to talk to, and if this is how the rest of her day was going to go, then she wasn’t opposed.
#para: caleb#para: we are who we are#dirtwatchman#suicidal ideation tw#alcohol mention tw#wickedswriting#{a new beginning; plot}
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WICKED'S REST + POST APOCALYPTIC
( feat: @apaininyourneck, @contemporarybardess, @thesilentmedium, @dirtwatchman, @spaceforanother, @eldritchaccident, @letsbenditlikebennett, & @phoenixleah )
#wickedscontent#teddy popped up in the movie i was giffing elora in so they get to be in this one too...#long post#also this is the last one of these i had planned out in my head so i'll have to think before i do more...
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Between a rock & a hard place | Group Thread
TIMING: December 5th
PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw), Metzli (@muertarte), Cassius (@singdreamchild), & Caleb (@dirtwatchman)
SUMMARY: On a stroll through the cemetery, Wyatt disturbs a crystal monster from the mines, sending it into an accidental rage. Metzli, Cassius, and Caleb all happen to be in that same cemetery that night, and hurry to his aid. They beat the thing, but not without some bumps and bruises (and more) along the way.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Body horror
Something big was lurking in the shadows of the cemetery, moving among the headstones. It had been a long trek out of the mines, but the creature had only one thing on its mind as it lumbered along, its crystalline body glinting in the moonlight.
Hands in his pockets, enjoying a rare night off from the Pit and the restaurant, Wyatt thought he’d go give this Mossthorn Bog a look, wondering how much (if at all) it might remind him of home. That would be nice. On the way, he’d become distracted by the sprawling cemetery in Nightfall Grove, doing a little bit of research as he neared its open gate. Loads of missing person cases, huh? Fascinating. Feeling like he could handle whatever this cemetery tried to throw at him, the lamia boldly entered, unaware of the danger that lurked inside. It’d just be a quick loop around the place, then he’d be on his way. Nothing major.
The beast from the mines had other plans.
It was surprisingly quiet, all things considered. It spotted the shifter from a distance, crouching low into the dirt and looking for all the world like a big, fancy boulder. Wyatt paid little mind as he walked by, hearing some sort of… commotion in the distance, and being far more intrigued by the light he could see moving between the trees and mausoleums. Was someone having a party out here? The rock was only spared a passing glance, and as if offended by his dismissal of its presence, it took a swipe at him.
Being soft and squishy at the moment, the lamia was sent hurtling through the air. His instincts took over, sparing him any grievous damage as he shifted in the blink of an eye, shredding through the clothing he wore and sending a nine foot tall gator crashing into the tree instead of a very breakable human. Even still, the shock of the sudden impact left him rattled and he had no kind of grip on the branches, dropping back to the hard earth with a loud oof! and, more poignantly, a loud “What the fuck?!” as he stared up at the gemstone beast that’d taken a swing at him.
“Fuck you!” Very clever, this one. The beast reared back, letting out a roar and lunging for him, forcing him to scramble out of the way. “I liked that fuckin’ shirt—” Wyatt complained, “—and I don’t like fightin’ for free! Piece of—”
There was nothing to move in Metzli’s chest, no swing of a brush or dust from a sculpture could spark any sort of joy. It reminded them of all those years with Eloy, everything coordinated perfectly so that he could retain the power he had accumulated through the years. How strange it was now though that Chuy of all people was in charge, plans of his own to extend his reign now that Eloy was gone.
It made for a rather difficult time in Wicked’s Rest, their connections feeling more like characters in a book they could stow away for another time. Which was strange because Metzli was the expendable one, not their friends. They supposed it was better that way anyhow. Once Chuy made his move, not feeling their connections torn from them would be easier while numb. That was, of course, if Chuy allowed them to stay numb. Which he likely wouldn’t.
Metzli sighed deeply, walking and thinking, taking a break from MuertArte in hopes of something activating within. There was nothing, much to their dismay. They were just about to give up and head back when they heard a man yelling about some shirt, followed by a roar. A fight then? Metzli’s curiosity was piqued, and they sprinted toward the sound with their knife in their hand, putting their body between some scaly humanoid thing and sharp claws.
The razors shot into their shoulders, sending them to one knee with the amount of pressure it applied. But there was no extreme pain, just a hint of warmth that was the tiniest bit enough to feel similar to what their loved ones once caused in their chest. Metzli almost smiled then, cocking their leg up and shoving it into the gemstone beast. It was too heavy to send away like a regular opponent, but it stumbled back, granting them enough space to regard the stranger they just helped. Blood collected thickly from their wound, a black goo dripping as they asked, “Can you fight?”
Cassius hadn’t been back out to visit the cemetery since his crypt had been coated in goo. Well, not his crypt anymore. It was Lydia Hanover’s again. Still, he couldn’t help but come back out and check on it from time to time to see if there was any possible way to retrieve the items that had been stuck inside. No such luck. It was almost comical what had become of what he had learned to call home.
He thought back to the moments he had with Inge not too long ago, where they had a heart-to-heart followed by some nefarious pacts. He thought back to the countless poems Cassius had penned within its walls, the not-so-wonderful attempt on his life from the slayer he now knew as Owen, and, of course, the return of his sire that he had long-presumed to be dead. Or at least, dead to him.
His attention was stirred elsewhere when he heard a loud commotion coming from the mausoleums. Every instinct told him to get out of dodge and escape, but he didn’t. Instead, Cassius found his feet carrying him to the direction of the noise. That’s where he found an alligator and a familiar face. An interesting pairing, but a pairing all the same.
“Hey, what’s going on?” He called out, brows knitting together in confusion. He spoke before he saw it. A giant purple thing hulking over them, roaring as it began to charge toward the two. “Run!” He shouted as it sped up, hurtling itself toward the lamia and Metzli. His shouting had been a terrible ideas, as it shifted its course of direction straight for him. Before he knew what had happened, Cassius had been tossed through the air as if he were nothing more than a sack of feathers. The air was knocked out of him as he was thrown against the side of a crypt. Groaning, he righted himself and looked toward the others.
It wasn't often that Caleb ventured to other graveyards to try and dig up another body or two but these days he was completely desperate. Most of his attempts at, well, murder were either thwarted or complete failures because he was gutless...a spineless, gutless, freak of nature who should have been able to kill a simple garbage human being but couldn't bring himself to do so. Which led him to scour the graveyards in the neighboring parts of town for freshly dug soil in an attempt to find something, anything that could help him stop some sort of horde from forming in Wicked's Rest. His night in Nightfall Grove was not going well.
Shovel in hand, the zombie started to make his way back to the truck that parked in a shaded area of the cemetery when an angry roar stopped him in his tracks. “What the hell....?” Another loud roar filled the night air, Caleb taking a few tentative steps forward before stopping again. It wasn't until he heard the shouts of others that he took off running towards the voices without thinking.
The sight that met him was one of the strangest he'd ever encountered in this town and that was saying something. Caleb was behind some sort of creature covered in or made of the crystals he'd been warning people against, running up just in time for him to see it throw a blond man into a crypt. The monster reared its head back to roar out its frustration into the night before it started toward the other two people in its path, people that seemed like they could be injured already.
“Dammit...I'm about to do this, aren't I?”
His feet were already moving and there was only a moment's hesitation before he gripped his shovel with both hands and swung as hard as he could at the monster in front of him, sending a small piece of crystal flying. The monster turned on him, Caleb scrambling away from it the best he could but tripping before getting far. He was on his back, shovel still in hand, when the monster grabbed him by his right foot and threw him, the zombie landing and skidding ten feet across the earth. Dust and gravel were both flying before he came to a stop, Caleb closing his eyes as it settled around him. A groan escaped and he allowed himself a split second to let the pain radiate through him before his eyes landed on the crystalline figure heading towards him once more. Once again, he was scrambling, hoping to reach the shovel laying behind him before the monster could reach him. “What is this thing?!”
Yellow, reptilian eyes went wide as someone intervened, looking very… normal. What the fuck were they doing? Before he could shout at them to get out of there, they were taking a forceful hit from the beast and… not crumpling like an accordion? Okay, so there was something there—something that became even more obvious, though still not named, as they pushed the beast away and turned to face him.
“Ew,” he commented without thinking, gaze fixed on the thick black ooze coming from their wound. “That’s—you should get that looked at.” Oh, right. They’d asked him something. “But yeah, I can fight. S’how I make a damn livin’.”
Hey, what’s going on? As another person entered the fray, Wyatt pulled himself to his full height and shook off the residual dizziness from slamming head-first into that tree. Why were more people showing up to get themselves killed? Lord, this was why he preferred arranged fights. Then he didn’t have to worry about anyone but himself. The creature was coming at them again until it wasn’t, now heading for loud blondie over there. Wyatt grumbled to himself, giving the person in front of him a curt nod before preparing to leap after the thing—oh. Ow. Blondie took a severe hit, sending him through the air and into the stone side of a crypt. Then there were four, and the lamia cursed aloud, watching as yet another average looking human took a swing at the crystal creature with a… shovel? Why did they have a shovel—never mind. Jesus, never mind. This was insane.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Wyatt looked to the person closest to him. “Gonna bite its head off,” he informed them. What is this thing?! the third stranger cried as he recuperated from being hucked just like the rest of them, but Wyatt was too busy to respond. He galloped toward the beast on all fours, leaping through the air once he got close enough and scrabbling up its side like a lizard scaling a wall. Large jaws parted as he reached its back and he lurched forward, snapping them around the monster’s neck and biting down. It wasn’t soft, of course, and while the gator’s jaws did apply a fair amount of pressure, nothing more than a few crystals broke loose. Still, he didn’t let go, trying to shake his head as violently as he could to do more damage. At the very least, it was keeping the creature from being able to see straight, holding it more or less in one spot as it tried to buck him off.
The verbal disgust did nothing to faze the vampire, not when more people were being added to the rising battle. One of them, in fact, Metzli recognized as he was thrown roughly into stone. They tilted their head curiously, calculating what the next right thing to do would be. At least two of them were actually capable of fighting if the reptilian wasn’t lying about his job, and at the very least, Cassius had his preternatural strength, and the man with a shovel was…resourceful, to say the least.
“Bite head?” Metzli began to circle slowly around the beast, keeping an eye on its legs for its next move as they continued to speak. “Break your teeth, may…be” And of course, conversation was the last thing the man wanted, cutting it all short as he made his first attack. Sure, Metzli hated conversation with people they didn’t know, but strategizing well was what was going to get them all out safely. Not impulsivity.
“You! With shovel!” They pointed at the man with their knife, shooing him to stand behind the beast as they circled and paced carefully, slowly filling and old role from a past they could not get away from. “Cassius, hurry and get up! Position around.” They pointed to an empty spot. “Do not get hit again.” The man had a good hold, that much was evident. Metzli thought perhaps they could use that time to properly set up the battle, surround the creature so that it could not focus on more than one opponent all the time. It was a common tactic they used with Los Sombras, albeit with a large crowd of humans, but the tactic was still a good one.
“And you!” Yelling at the crunching stranger, Metzli watched the formation take shape, a blindspot needing to be filled. “Let go and help surround! Attack one at a time!” It would give everyone a short reprieve to gather their wits about them before their next attack, and it would benefit them all to be able to have eyes on each other. “Once we know attack pattern and weakness, we arc and push—” They were interrupted, dodging a sweep to their body. “Then kill. Together. Okay?” As they waited for any form of agreement, Metzli tossed their knife toward Cassius. They had a spare anyway.
Hearing Metzli’s call to get himself off the ground, Cassius groaned and hoisted himself up off the ground, dusting off his pants as if it mattered in a moment like this. He cast a glance over to Metzli, then nodded his head once. He ran over to the spot that they had pointed out for them to stand in, focusing his attention on the giant rock monster. Man, the thing was huge, it had to have come from the tunnels, right? He narrowed his eyes and frowned as he thought to himself.
For a moment, he was glad Metzli was there to organize everyone, they seemed to be good at it. Cassius only knew that he’d get his ass kicked if it had been up to him. At least this way, they had a chance of taking this thing down.
He tore his gaze away from the monster long enough to look at the others in the group. A gator, who seemed to be able to understand human speech, which led Cassius to believe they were some kind of shapeshifter. Naturally, in a town like this. He then looked at the man with the shovel. Well, it was definitely a choice.A man with a shovel in a graveyard… hm. Cassius kept his eyes narrowed at Wyatt for a moment longer gefore turning his attention back to the rock monster.
It let out a creaking groan as Metzli dodged their sweeping attack. Cassius quickly grabbed the knife that was tossed his way, and jumped backward with uncanny speed as the monster brought its fist down to where he had been standing. He began to study its moves. So far, sweeping and smashing seemed to be his hits of choice. Okay, he could work with that. He glanced in Metzli’s direction for a moment, waiting for them to give some kind of order, then turned his attention back to the monster, waiting for its next move.
All Caleb could do was stare as the reptilian creature started to scale the crystal giant, his movements slowing to a stop and his mouth hanging open. He'd seen some things in his life but watching a gator tear little pieces of crystal off of a monster made of the stuff took the cake. Wicked's Rest just got weirder by the day. It wasn't until he heard someone shouting at him that his attention was torn away from the battle in front of him. If there was anything Caleb could do correctly, he could follow directions so the zombie gingerly got to his feet before taking his stance behind the creature as he was told. This person seemed to know what they were doing, Caleb all too happy to be a soldier following their leadership.
Even if he was a little terrified, an emotion he tried to mask while he grasped the shovel tightly. It wouldn't do anyone any good for his fear to be on display while they were trying to get rid of whatever this thing was. He could freak out later.
As Caleb waited for his next command, a little piece of crystal that had been torn away from the monster by the reptile came flying towards him. The zombie tried to sidestep it but the smaller piece seemed to develop a mind of its own and somehow gripped his arm, clambering up almost the same way the alligator had done to the much larger monster. “Oh, hell no.” He quickly pushed the smaller rock off of him with as much force as he could muster, the thing landing with a thud in the dirt and breaking into two more pieces. Caleb wasted no time and brought this shovel down hard onto both of them, smashing them up as much as he could until they stopped moving on their own.
“This might make things a little harder.” Caleb turned back to face the person who had given him the earlier command while still keeping the larger monster in the corner of his questioning eyes. “I can take on the little ones while you all keep tearing away at him?”
Wyatt wasn’t used to working as a team. In fact, he’d never done it once in his life. As such, he almost ignored the commands that were being shouted back and forth, zeroing in on the enemy and having little room for consideration of anything else. Still… it wasn’t the cheer of a crowd and eventually the gator did come back to his senses, realizing with some delay that the first one to show up had told him to get down and help them surround it. He growled and hissed as he begrudgingly loosened his grip on the creature’s neck, sliding down its back with claws hooked to break away as many small bits as he could on the way down. They rained to the dirt and grass below, and looking up just in time to see—hang on, the guy with the shovel was Caleb? The lamia scoffed as he watched Caleb smashing some smaller pieces of crystal to bits with his shovel. “What are you—” before he could finish asking, the smaller pieces that he’d dislodged during his dismount were springing to life and running right at him.
Wyatt did not like small critters, he oftentimes felt creeped out by them or like he might crush them if he looked at them wrong, and these miniature abominations were the cherries on top of that particular slice of pie. “Oh, fuck!” he yelped, gaze darting between the little army of nuggets that were only a few steps away and the big motherfucker that was whipping around to try and take a bite out of him, understandably pissed about the whole chomping and gouging thing. Wyatt hunkered down onto all fours again to leap out of the way of the smaller rocks while taking a swipe at the big guy’s head, hooking it by the jaw and dragging its head down close to the ground. Another, much faster bite was delivered—ow—and then the gator released it again to back away, heading for Caleb this time, with his trusty shovel, apparently. “Can you smash those for me I do not like them,” he rattled off quickly as he tried to move back into position without the little fuckers attaching themselves to his scales.
Everyone was capable, it seemed, but there was still a disconnect in each of their skills. Two were more apt for smaller, weaker foe, while the other two had experience with opponents of the monster’s size, or even just fighting in general. The plan had to shift if they were going to make it out alive and in one piece. Begrudgingly, Metzli decided to call for a separation, deeming the shovel and Cassius’s strength and knife to be suited well for the little rocks.
Or were they gems? Cass would be upset if Metzli couldn’t differentiate them. Maybe they could ask her later—they shook their head, refocusing on the matter at hand. “Divide!” They exclaimed, lunging forward to sink their knife into the creature’s blindspot. With considerable force, Metzli tugged and dragged, leaving a gaping wound just before clarifying their instructions, in agreement with Wyatt. “He is right! Cassius and Caleb! Attack small things. Me and him will keep this thing—” A gem creature screeched as it pounced toward Metzli, and they reacted quickly enough to punch it straight to the ground. “Busy!” They finally finished, turning back to the beast and trusting the other two to take their plan into more than just consideration.
“You are a good fighter,” They said in a small break in the chaos. The large creature roared and swiped, just barely missing the two in the midst of Metzli explaining next steps. “We attack in pattern, yes?” Another swipe, and another dodge. “Be on opposite and attack only when other is retreated. It will come to defense and leave itself open for attack when it goes after one of us. Have sense?” There wasn’t much time to allow for a verbal agreement, so Metzli had to trust that Wyatt would listen just as he did before. Even if he was slow to do so last time. They groaned to themself, pushing away the thought and instead opting to trust him to collaborate. Everyone seemed smart enough to listen. Metzli just hoped they were all strong enough to survive.
Letting out a withering sigh, Cassius turned his attention to the smaller crystals that were breaking off and forming sentience around him. This was something out of some comedic horror writer’s wet dream and he wasn’t appreciating it very much, thanks. He let out an indignant scoff before having a flashback to his experience with the fury a few months back. “Wait, I… those creepy things from the mines,” he began to explain, trying to remember what they looked like. “They had geodes for faces, one of them attacked myself and someone else, they had these venom sacks that melted the crystals.” He looked to where the entrance of the mines were, and frowned. It would be a gamble to find one of them right now, but it was something at least.
“It could stop us from having to deal with breaking off a million tiny rock monsters?” He then added, stomping a crystalline miniature hellion into the earth with his Doc Marten. A blonde strand of hair got in his eyes, and he blew it away with an annoyed face, then stomped into another mini crystal creature with his left boot. This would be embarrassing for someone to witness if it wasn’t a life or death situation. Another strand of hair flew into his face, and this time it pissed him off enough to quickly throw his hair into a quick messy knot on the top of his head.
A group of the crystal miniatures jumped up onto his pant legs, and began to do their little tiny punches into his thigh. “This is more annoying than painful,” he muttered to himself as he chanced a glance behind him at the giant creature that Metzli and Wyatt were currently keeping occupied. The more damage it did, the angier it seemed to become, letting out a creaking groan that sounded more like earth settling more than it did a cry of pain or anger. He began to pluck the little crystal things off of his pants and crushed them in his hands as if they were nothing to him.
The tiny pieces were starting to become a hassle, Caleb doing his best to smash them as they came barreling towards him with each blow to the much larger version of themselves. They were easy enough to take on but too many of them could prove disastrous, especially since he didn't know what damage they could cause. He'd learned a long time ago not to underestimate even the smallest of creatures. Busy trying to shake off another tiny monster that crawled up his leg, the zombie's attention was momentarily caught by the gator creature, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when it trailed off during it's question. Somehow the voice sounded familiar but he didn't have time to ponder too much before a group of the smaller crystals started to come at them, two of which joined their hellian sibling latched onto Caleb's clothes. These little things were persistent.
Voices were heard while he knocked the three off of him, stomping them out one by one, but he couldn't quite focus on what they were saying while he kept an eye on the giant thing looming over them all. One was speaking about splitting up, another about something in the mines, so Caleb decided his best course of action was to continue with what he was doing. Maybe he could distract the little ones while the tall blond (Who he assumed was Cassius after hearing the names called) went after what they needed.
It was the accent that sparked Caleb's memory as the gator ran towards him with the request, blue eyes widening when he realized who this could be. He'd never heard it from anyone else in this town and the odds of two of them around here were slim. But they were trying to fight a monster the size of a bus that spawned more with every hit it took. This was no time for the many questions forming in his mind. Nodding at the request, Caleb reared the shovel back before smacking the creatures with the curved edge to send them skittering a yard or so away. “Go, I have them.” He turned to look at Cassius. “You too, I can take care of these.”
Giving Caleb an appreciative nod, Wyatt circled around the beast to where Metzli was to draw it away from the other two. Cassius was saying something about a mine monster, and… huh. That did sound better than biting this thing until his fangs started falling out. “Think you can lead one out here?” he shouted to the blonde while Metzli punched the fucking thing to the ground (what the fuck), then gave them a reptilian grin in response to their compliment. “Same could be said of you!” he answered. “But—opposites, pattern. Got it!” Ducking out the way again to take up position behind the cranky rock, doing as instructed and waiting to jump on the thing’s back and do as much damage as quickly as he could before hopping back down and drawing its attention his way, leaving it open to attack from Metzli.
Casting a concerned glance over in Caleb’s direction, the gator let out a loud hiss to get his attention. “Hey, you doin’ alright over there with your shovel, sport?” His tone sounded… affectionately teasing, and the shit-eating grin he was wearing was lost somewhere in translation—alligator jaws weren’t particularly expressive, after all.
There was a clear crack that shot up a hint of warmth up Metzli’s arm. It was the most they felt in weeks, shooting their pupils into large saucers like some sort of high. They smiled lightly, turning in time to watch Wyatt dodge and compliment, agreeing a lot easier than before.
With the beast open for attack thanks to the shifter, Metzli pounced. They found purchase on a few gems, cocking their arm back and plunging their knife into it over and over again. Its maw snapped and snarled, poorly attempting to rid itself of the tick on its side. Metzli granted its wish and leapt back to allow Wyatt to make his move, only to be swiped at mid-air.
The pain that surged throughout their body as they made impact with the ground was enough to force a huff of laughter to escape them. But the claws in their chest? That only served to strengthen the feeling, allowing it to bloom into adrenaline throughout their veins. Metzli laughed, truly laughed, and placed their feet against its chest to keep it from causing any more damage while they waited for help. It worked, for the most part, but if no one charged in soon, they were sure they’d be unable to continue helping.
Once he got the go ahead from Caleb, Cassius took off toward the entrance of the cave. Luckily for him, the commotion had brought out more than one volmugger to the entrance. They skittered about on all fours, their geode faces snapping to attention the second that he stepped close enough. There were three of them in total. For a brief moment, he thought that maybe that three was too many to handle. He wasn’t going to go down like this, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else get exposed to the damn things. With a intake of breath, Cassius rushed toward the closest creature, stabbing it in the middle of its geode, rendering the venom sack behind its non-face completely useless. The acid leaked out onto the knife, beginning to eat away at it. He pulled it out quickly, the liquid dripping down his hand and burning away his skin, exposing bone and muscle tendons.
Grimacing at the pain, Cassius lept backward as the second creature made an eerie clicking sound, then acid sprayed in an arc toward him. It got his chest, burning away the clothes and flesh, exposing more muscle and bone. Black blood bubbled to the surface, and he had no choice but to ignore the pain that seared through him.
The last two creatures clicked at him and sprayed their acid, and this time he rolled away in the knick of time. It eroded the stone where he once stood, leaving bubbling acid in its place. The blood trickled down his chest, and he chanced a glance down at it. His shirt was ruined, and there was no way that wouldn’t leave a temporary scar. It went through the carnation tattoo that he had, and he cursed under his breath. How the hell was he going to explain that to the tattoo artist?
Cassius didn’t have time to think, the third creature clicked and sprayed its acid at his face, and lunged toward the second and grabbed its head and pulled, a horrible ripping of bone and tendon cut through the silent night as he ripped its head clean from its body. The body fell to the ground lifeless, and he had secured what he was after. The last remaining creature charged at him, and he dropped the geode-like head quickly, the acid spraying onto his legs. It splashed everywhere, achieving the same effect it had on the rest of his body. Wasting no time, he ripped into the creatures chest and tore it apart, rending flesh from bone, terrible ripping and squelching sounds as he crushed its organs in his hands.
In a swift motion, Cassius tore another head from its body, then plucked up the other head he had discarded in the earth. With clothes and flesh sufficiently burned away, he ran limped back toward the group. “Catch!” He shouted to Metzli, then threw the geode-like head toward the other vampire. “It sprays an acid, it eats away at the rock!” He explained, then rushed over to the small pieces that were forming tiny creatures and tore out the sac from the center of the skull. He squeezed on it and it began to leak. The blonde made quick work of spraying the liquid onto the smaller crystal structures, which began to melt away entirely.
With Cassius gone, Caleb was almost overrun with the little pieces taking on a life of their own, most of them turning their tiny fury on the pale man churning them to dust with loud blows of the metal stomping them into the ground. Three more were already up his legs with one the size of his head having made it to Caleb’s waste. They were going for his arms, probably to stop him from using the shovel against them. The sound of Wyatt’s voice brought him back to the bigger fight at hand, Caleb questioning how the man could still sound like he was flirting in the middle of this. “Since when am I ‘sport’ to you? I like firebug better.”
The larger of the broken pieces suddenly clamped its jaw down on Caleb’s wrist, making it clear that these bastards were definitely going for his hands as a sharp end of crystal sunk into his skin and hit bone, drawing up that tell tale black goo. “Shit!” He jerked his hand away and shook his wrist with force, sending the crystal flying only for it to come running back towards him as soon as it landed on its feet. Caleb swiped at it, the end of the shovel splitting through it before he stomped both pieces out with his boot. “Yea, I’m doing great. But I think they have it worse.” Head jerking towards the person being held in place by the monster, he raised an eyebrow as Cassius came running back looking worse for wear. “Or him.”
“You’re right, I don’t know why the fuck I said that,” the lamia laughed, putting a pin in the thought that they were going to probably have to have a conversation at some point about… all of whatever the fuck was going on here. Which… it wasn’t going terribly, all things considered. It wasn’t great though, and Wyatt was left to duck his head and charge at the beast pinning Metzli to the ground. The first hit rocked it in place but didn’t quite do the trick, and the gator bellowed angrily as he backed up to try again. “Fuck off, Mount Rushmore!” Bodyslamming the beast a second time managed to topple it over, just in time for Cassius to come back from the mines, apparently.
Looking like absolute shit.
Wyatt held out a scaly, clawed hand to Metzli to pull them to their feet, balking at the sight of the blonde. He threw something their way, which Metzli handily caught. “Dude, you look fuckin’ rough,” he half exclaimed, half laughed, hoping that it wasn’t a future for all of them. It could be, if what he said about the acid was true. Blinking back at Metzli, Wyatt stepped out of the way, giving them plenty of space to spray the big rocky fucker that was getting back to its feet. “All you, friend,” he hissed.
Metzli’s eyes were wide and a bit wild from all the sensations they’d managed to develop. It was a rush, leaving them feral to continue, but they knew that they needed to remain at least somewhat composed if they all wanted to defeat the beast. Even if their mouth was watering at the mere thought of a meal. No, they shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut tightly until they saw stars. It did well to refocus them, and they sheathed their blade in order to grasp the geode in their hand.
“Thank you,” they replied calmly, just barely dodging a swipe from the monster with a roll to the ground. Landing on one knee, Metzli took aim and smiled with satisfaction as the acid began to coat the grisly thing with enough to send it screeching viscerally. Que suerte, they thought, rising to their feet to watch and analyze. It thrashed backwards, trying its best to get away from the thing that caused it pain. “You next.” Metzli said, tossing the geode over to Caleb like some game of hot tomato. Or whatever game that Cass tried to explain to them.
Waving off the comments that were thrown Cassius’s way by the gator man, quickly side stepping monster’s attempts at swiping. His hand reached for the acid sac and grimaced, continuing to spray the vile liquid onto the smaller pieces that had gained sentience. As they melted away, the giant monstrosity turned its attention onto the blonde vampire. It let out a roar as it changed its path, zeroing in on Cassius and smashing down on him.
As soon as the crystal arm came down, Cassius fell out of the way as quick as he could. The stone came crashing down onto his lower leg, eliciting a cry from the vampire. The geode head he held in his hands tumbled out of his hold and toward Wyatt, leaving Cassius to scoot out of the way of the monster. He rolled onto his hands and knees, wincing at the pain that came with it. Ignoring the pain best he could, he hopped up onto his good leg, hobbling away from the large monster and toward Caleb and his shovel. The acid that Metzli had sprayed onto the monster was starting to eat away at the creature, crystal bubbling away to nothingness.
Slamming his foot down on one of the last of the little monsters, Caleb looked up just in time to see the geode head flying towards him. “Wait!” But there was no stopping them, it was too late. He dropped the shovel to catch the thing, his numb fingers fumbling to keep his hold firm. It almost slipped fully from his grasp until he was able to tighten his hold, accidentally squeezing some of the acid onto his shirt which burned through to the skin of his abdomen. Teeth gnashed against his bottom lip when the pain radiated through him, his focus on the battle lost. There was something building inside of Caleb, something that terrified him more than anything, but he did his best to bring his sights back to the problem at hand.
Pointing the head towards the monster that was still being eaten away, he squeezed again, much harder this time while strength started to intensify. The acid sprayed over the side of the monster that was now facing the empty space where Cassius had been standing with its head swiveling around to try and take in all of the enemies surrounding it. Its arm was quickly covered, the limb starting to melt away. “Metzli!” The name was growled as Caleb tossed the head back to them so he could assist Cassius in getting away from the thing. He moved to the man’s side to wrap an arm around his waist and support his weight so Cassius could walk better. “Really are trying to outshine us, aren’t you? Let’s get you away from this thing before it tears an arm off or something.”
Staring down at the head that’d rolled in his direction, Wyatt groaned. “Aw, man. Seriously? Like… seriously??” He glanced around—everyone else was otherwise preoccupied with taking the creature and its little fuck off minions down, and the acid really seemed to be doing the trick. “Fuck me,” he growled, reaching down to grab the head with a grimace. “So gross.” Sticking a clawed hand into the weird creature’s… skull—if you could call it that—the gator sprinted toward their larger foe and gave the sac a mighty squeeze (ew), holding it in front of him like a water hose. Kind of a sad water hose, but at least the liquid did excellent work in small quantities.
He sprayed all down the thing’s side and it shuddered and groaned, collapsing to the ground. It wasn’t dead yet, however dead a thing made of gems could be, but it wasn’t moving fast anymore. Wyatt kept this up until the volmugger dome stopped giving, then spiked it on the ground like a football. “Take that, Kilimanjaro!! Hell yeah!” Now properly pumped again, the lamia leaped forward and clamped down on one of the legs that hadn’t been touched by acid yet, biting as hard as he could stand and thrashing his head around until it broke free, then hucking it over toward Metzli, who had the last of the acid.
The familiar sound of teeth chattering almost caused Metzli to abandon everything, a longing in their mind building and completely convinced that the source was a ghost that’d returned to life. But when their eyes landed on what they hoped would be Honey, it was just Caleb, a stranger tossing the geode back toward Wyatt. Zombie then, Metzli surmised, watching the scene halfheartedly when they should’ve been helping Cassius, or really, anyone. What would she make of their state? She would know what to do, would go through hordes of vampires with them if it meant they’d be free again, but that didn’t matter at the moment.
They turned their attention back to the screeching monster, its wails of agony piercing through the space and echoing around them all. Metzli stayed where they were for a moment, staring at the leg that had been thrown toward them by a much-too-energetic Wyatt. At least someone was having fun, they supposed, pulling out their knife again as they limped somewhat confidently over to the beast that was now too sad to really continue.
Death should be swift if one could grant it, as Honey would say. It was the respectful thing to do, and they’d honor her by thrusting their knife into the creature’s throat and severing its head as much as they could. Viscera and sinew dangled lamely with its head, body slowly going still. Blood and acid mixed together and sizzled against flesh, but Metzli hardly minded (especially not when it allowed them to feel). Caleb and Cassius already had both their clothes and skin effectively ruined, and a job needed to be done, so they’d be a good sport about it and join them. “Think it is dead,” they droned, backing away and tilting their head eerily as they studied its death.
Thankful for the assistance from Caleb, Cassius nodded his head in thanks. “I seem to be exceptional at getting myself hurt,” he grumbled to himself, wincing as he put weight onto his bad leg. Before they could get away from the fray, the monster fell to the ground. Cassius let out a sigh of relief as Metzli declared it dead. “The fuck was it?” He asked as the two of them hobbled towards both Metzli and Wyatt. “Everyone alright?” He then asked, hoping that he had gotten the brunt of the damage instead of someone else. He was thankful he had a connection in his back pocket when it came to getting medical attention.
Studying the half-melted crystal monster, Cassius’s frown deepened. “Glad we were all here before it got to a populated area.” He looked around the cemetery, there were smashed headstones strewn about, but that was better than innocent people being killed by the thing. “Do we just… leave it here?” His brows furrowed together, unsure what to make of the situation now that the imminent threat had been dealt with.
It was quite the scene really, a giant alligator and three people all messed up standing around a melting giant rock monster in the middle of a graveyard with geode heads at their feet. His face contorted with disgust when he and Cassius got closer, Caleb hardly believing that he’d been involved at all, much less had one of those heads in hand. He gently kicked at one as Cassius spoke. Yea, that was gross. “It looks like a larger version of the crystals growing out of the ground but at least those don’t move.” And thank god it didn’t seem to affect them like the smaller ones did. That could have been an even bigger disaster if Wyatt had suddenly lost himself to the thing with all the blows he’d dealt by teeth.
With that thought, Caleb looked over towards the alligator but didn’t move towards him. It was safer to keep his distance with his body trying to heal itself. Besides, Cassius still needed some help. “I don’t know if it’s safe to leave it out here…will the acid spread and melt the whole thing?” It seemed to still be bubbling in areas, eliciting another noise of disgust from the zombie. “That’s really gross.”
“Peachy. Not a scratch.” Well, that might’ve not been true, but who had time for splitting hairs right now? Sucking in a deep breath to calm his wired nerves, the lamia lowered himself into a squat near the beast, claws digging into dirt as he leaned over to give it a closer look. Yeah… would have been a shame if it’d reached whatever party was going on deeper in the graveyard. Which… he might have to check out, actually. He deserved it. But first… they had a point, they couldn’t really just leave it here. Damnit. Wyatt glanced around them, yellow eyes squinted. “I mean, it’s a graveyard, yeah? People bury shit here. Let’s just… bury it?” His gaze danced from Metzli to Cassius and then to Caleb, who wielded the shovel.
Digging a grave for something this big would take the poor man all night.
With a snort, the gator lifted his tail and started to dig with his hands, raking the earth between his legs. “Not a word from any of ya,” he warned, thankful that at least this spot in particular seemed to be free of coffins. Well, mostly. He had to change course once or twice, but managed to claw out a hole big enough for what remained of the crystal creature in a fraction of the time it would’ve taken someone with human tools. Then came the pushing of the beast, which had them all lined up on one side of it, heaving with all their might.
As they threw the dirt back over the top of it and filled in the hole, Wyatt leaned over to Caleb, speaking in a low voice. “So, uh… surprise, firebug! Not exactly how I wanted you to find out.” If at all. “I’d ask about the shovel, but…” He smirked, at least as much as an alligator could. “We can chat later.”
Metzli shrugged at both of Cassius’s questions, still staring at the dead and deflated beast as it continued to sizzle. Their whole body felt similar, a warm haze humming across the top of their skin. It was subtle and consistent, a welcome sensation by all accounts. They looked around at everyone and then at themself, self-preservation obvious in everyone but them, but there was no time for Metzli to linger on the thought when Wyatt spoke.
“Peach…y?” It was a strange term, and no fruit was around to logically generate such a response. But then that didn’t matter either. Wyatt began to dig in a sacred place, with no care as to the respect the place demanded and deserved. Metzli opened their mouth to object, but it quickly shut as a tugging encompassed their entire head. Eyes went blank, a desire to head to another graveyard overcoming them. Their legs moved before anything else could be commented on. It was like Wyatt had said anyway. They could all chat later.
Grateful that he had fed before the whole encounter, the Cassius already started to feel his wounds healing. Of course they wouldn’t heal instantly, but it would be enough for him to be able to walk on his own without aid from a stranger. He nodded his head toward Wyatt, who claimed he was all good. Good. At least he was the only one that got himself hurt. He could live with that outcome.
Then, Cassius all but blinked as the alligator man began to dig like his life depended on it. He slowly hobbled away from Caleb, giving him a thankful nod, but he had it from here. He watched as Metzli walked off, and he shrugged a shoulder. Guess it was time to get back to the hotel for the night and hope that this whole situation was just one giant weird dream. But knowing the town, it probably wasn’t. “Good luck with all that,” he murmured toward the alligator before walking toward the entrance of the cemetery. Yeah, Cassius was definitely done living in cemeteries for good.
The sight of Wyatt digging a hole would have sent Caleb into a laughing fit on any normal night. It seemed like the best reaction, right? Fighting a giant crystal monster with three other people and then watching a large alligator dig a hole to bury it was something out of some supernatural parody show meant to terrify and amuse. Instead, all he did was watch with interest, smiling softly while his thoughts kept flicking between a meal and the chef and the two other…were they undead like him? They were both wounded and still upright, Cassius even walking better after a short amount of time. Had to be undead. He wasn’t going to ask outright though and they were both walking away after the beast was buried before he could think anymore on it anyway, almost as if they saw this type of thing everyday.
Looking back at Wyatt, Caleb took a step away from the gator and grabbed the shovel off the ground, still marveling at how the charm the man possessed was coming through even in this form. “We definitely have a lot to talk about.” But he kept slowly walking backwards in the general direction of his truck, not willing to get close just in case. Even if he was in control of himself right now and could push the thoughts of hunger away Caleb didn’t quite trust himself to keep it that way. “I can’t stay here right now though. It’s best for both of us.” The zombie lifted his hand in a small wave and then, without explanation, turned on his heel, quickening his pace to get far away. He’d call Wyatt later, maybe even look for the other two undead to talk further. For now, he needed to get home and feed before the town had a different monster on its hands.
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @disinfernus
TIMING: Current
SUMMARY: Two people are up to nefarious business. One chickens out and runs into the other who, as always, keeps their cool. A deal is struck but deals don't mean exemptions from a fae's natural impulses.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, allusion to domestic abuse tw
“A simple address and I will be gone. You won’t see me again. A simple address and I can make all of this… stop.” That wasn’t a lie. While the shadow nymph could lie, there was always some sort of repercussion that fit the size of the lie. There was no wince to be found, no headache that throbbed or stomachache that threatened their dinner. But without that address, the knife that had buried itself so deeply into the man’s gut would only go further and twist tighter. There was a refusal and a curse through the pain; they were brothers, after all. There was no way any of them could give up family to a stranger.
The middle-aged man, peppered at the temples and in beard, groaned when Dīs gave another twist. With that address, he could live, but a too big heart got in the way. All they wanted were some answers — that was it. “You’re the one who put that knife there when you tried to attack me with it. This isn’t my fault,” their hand went to their chest, offense in fabrication only. Without that address, things would end with more bloodshed and a corpse on the ground. And that lead would be severed. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get much further when they suddenly felt someone else’s eyes on them.
Business like this was conducted under the guise of darkness and usually in nondescript locations, usually when everyone else was already tucked away in their beds. There was an unusual amount of nocturnal in Wicked’s Rest, but truthfully, they thought they did a good job at choosing somewhere with less foot traffic. Apparently they were wrong.
Dīs turned away from their suspect in a way that concealed most of the damage done to his abdomen, but still used their power to strengthen the shadow between them. They did hope that this was just some lowly and boring human, otherwise the smell of blood could be a monkey wrench in the illusion. They nodded politely to the stranger as they passed, hoping dearly that nothing seemed amiss to them — aside from the blanching of the man’s skin and blood upon the ground.
In all the time that Caleb had been thinking of doing the unthinkable he found it so fascinating that his mind had not yet gone to the one person that deserved death more than any other. That day with Gael, the day he had rushed away from the man who seemed so concerned, the zombie had spotted someone from his past and knew in his heart that the man needed to be a life that he snuffed out, a life that was owed to Caleb and Caleb alone. But with that realization came another. He didn’t have the nerve. After following Gary that day and reliving the past trauma the man had put him through, it was discovered that he couldn’t even show the older man his face. It was the most disappointing, soul crushing event that had happened to him recently.
So, instead Caleb followed. For days now he’d been following his foster dad through the street’s of Wicked’s Rest, getting quite good at ducking behind walls or lowering his head behind a newspaper to keep from being detected. It was satisfying, watching Gary getting more and more paranoid as the days went on, and so Caleb kept aggravating that paranoia even further. A small noise near an alley, a chuckle that reverberated off the walls of the close buildings, all small tricks he had picked up from movies. It was so nice to watch the slow mental decline in his foster father that Caleb was slightly worried about his own mental state and how much he was…enjoying this game of cat and mouse.
Until the tables turned. It wasn’t as fun after losing the man in a crowd that had come out of a closing bar and the paranoia decided to transfer from fake father to fake son. Had Gary spotted him? Was Caleb about to be hunted down and thrown right back to his twelve year old state where he couldn’t fight back? That man had an iron grip in the form of fear locked around Caleb like a snake coiling around its prey and the panic sent him fleeing.
He was in a seemingly deserted alley leaning against a brick wall, his head slamming back into it as the force of his body connected. It took several minutes for Caleb to calm his nerves only for him to notice a couple of people who seemed…not in great spirits a ways down the alley. A deserted alley that wasn’t so deserted was never a good sign. All he had to do was pass though, his lips pursing into what he hoped was a smile though it was so tight that he knew it couldn’t possibly resemble one. The zombie placed his hands in his pockets and started to move to get past them.
Even with his poor eyesight, Caleb could clearly see that the ground was wet beneath one of the men and nowhere else. Either the man had messed himself after drinking too much or…well, he didn’t want to think of any other alternatives. He had every intention to keep walking but his dead heart still seemed to beat in some metaphorical way. Two steps away from them, he slowly turned to face the one who had nodded as he passed. “Um, are you both okay? Because…it doesn’t seem like it...” His eyes went to the one on the ground as the words trailed off, the sallow skin a dead giveaway that something was amiss. ‘All you had to do was keep walking…’ “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Why them? Why did it feel like every time they had someone on the ropes, someone had to come in and ruin it? Where were all of these good samaritans even coming from anyway? The tall fae mentally cursed the stranger and hoped that their position was enough to keep anything too incriminating from view. Naturally, the wetness of the blood that had pooled between them was noticeable by the toe of Dīs’ shoe.
They tried not to show their irritation with being interrupted on their face, they really did. It was probably inevitable, at this point, considering how close they were with, hopefully, getting an answer. There wasn’t much hope, with how reluctant their victim seemed to be, but maybe with a bit more prodding and twisting, something would come to light. Now with this audience member, however, they weren’t sure if they’d get the chance.
“Yes,” “N-no..” “We’re fine, we appreciate it.” Their voices overlapped a tick and Dīs drifted their gaze to the man who currently sheathed their knife in order for him to get the hint that he really needed to keep his mouth. “Ple..” “We’re just.. Having a bit of fun.”
This didn’t look like fun. The man on his knees was almost whimpering, not able to get out his answers as the other person spoke over him. The wetness on the ground, the fear Caleb could now see…no this wasn’t fun for at least one of them. Why he felt the need to continue interfering was beyond him and yet the zombie took another step towards the two. “He doesn’t seem okay though.” Blue eyes went to the ground and Caleb took in that wet spot again, dark but with the little bit of light that was coming into the alley he could see a red hue this time. Shit.
“Maybe we should call for an ambulance?” His eyes lifted to the person that was standing, an urgency now appearing in them. Giving the person an opportunity to come back from this, it was more than most people got in this town. Then again, Caleb had no clue who or what this person was and he was most likely making a grave mistake of his own. His only advantage was they didn’t know what he was either.
He looked at the man on the ground again, they’re eyes meeting, and he wondered if he’d done anything for this to happen or if he’d just been an unlucky victim. Then it occurred to him that it shouldn’t have mattered, right? Caleb’s thoughts were starting to mold themselves around his reasonings for his own chosen victims…or victim at this point, and it was a little scary. “I think he’s hurt.”
Dīs tensed their jaw. They felt a tingling just at the edges of their eyes, the burn from their light that wanted nothing more than to escape the magic of the glamour and bare itself into the man before them. But there were still too many passersby, too many opportunities for someone or something to see their most successful disappearing act.
They had to do something.
“He is hurt,” they admitted. The truthful angle could work, if they used the right cards and pulled on the right heartstrings. If this young man was eager to help someone out, maybe the shadow nymph could turn that compassion towards themself. “But he deserves it. He killed my family.” Their previous facade of playfulness melted away into a tone of vengeance laced with grief.
“N-n.. No.”
“No. I’m not too keen on calling an ambulance for him.”
The story was compelling, that was for sure, but was it true? Trust was hard to come by and when you come into a situation where someone has one leg up over another already it was hard to believe anyone who said it was at the fault of the person on the ground. But then something in Caleb told him that he could be in this situation someday himself, that someone could come across him stalking the man who had tormented him his whole life or even trying to get rid of him, and if they didn’t believe the zombie when he told the tale then he would be screwed. Or maybe he just wanted a reason to believe this person. He wanted a reason to tell himself that hurting someone else could be justified.
After all, it’s what he’d been trying to work up the nerve for himself. It was most likely the wrong move though he found himself not backing down, but not without another question.
“Are you going to kill him?” The nerves that had been coursing through him were only getting worse but he needed to know for multiple reasons. Caleb didn’t want to help with the murder if that was what was coming but the clean up? Yea, he could be a part of that purely for selfish reasons. If this was inevitable, which it seemed like it was, there was no reason to waste the meal that could come out of it. “I might…have a deal for you if you do.”
“A deal?” The man suddenly started squirming, objecting to being killed. Dīs had no idea who this inquisitive stranger was or why he would want to make a deal after the deed had been done (usually people liked to make a deal in favor of the other person’s life, not against it), but they would be lying if they weren’t interested.
One of their hands went up to cover their victim’s face, muffling him, but not silencing him completely. “No. Shut up,” the lampade commanded, though they didn’t take their eyes off of the brunette before them. “What kind of deal?” Death left the limp body - its bones, organs and tendons and blood. Is that what he wanted? The corpse afterward?
Truthfully, it mattered not to Dīs what became of the body, as long as they were able to get the information before his last breath. That’s the only thing they cared about.
The protest of the man whose fate seemed sealed had his stomach sinking so low. Why was he doing this? The man was bleeding but not dead yet and it seemed Caleb had been the last factor to his impending doom. It didn’t feel good. He was already starting to regret the words he’d previously spoken but he had to push forward or he could meet the same fate…not that a stab to the gut would do much to him. It could certainly send him after another though and cause more pain to unsuspecting victims.
Looking up from the victim’s covered mouth to the person standing over him, Caleb stood his ground. The underlying anxiety would have been so much worse had his heart been able to beat as fast as it probably wanted to. It became one of those rare moments where he was glad he was dead or else his body would betray him. “My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.”
There it was. If this person had any inkling of what went on in this town, knew anything about the undead, Caleb had just revealed exactly what he was to them. Why was it so much easier to tell a complete stranger what he was and not the people who cared for him? Probably because this stranger was in a predicament of their own. He briefly glanced to the man on the ground, seeing the fear in his eyes grow, and looked back at the other before the zombie could change his mind. “What do you say?”
“My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.”
There were probably a plethora of uses for a human brain, more than any that Dīs could procure, but their most immediate thought led them down the undead route. More specifically, the zombie kind. Now, they weren’t about to play a rousing game of Twenty Questions with someone who was so willing to take the body off of their hands once they were done with it. Why ruin a good thing with questions? But this seemed to be in line with their assumption and what limited knowledge they were going on.
The nymph regarded the other man for a quiet moment — as quiet as it could be with the human man’s muffled sounds of pain and disagreement. He started to fade, quickly, which left them with little time to get the answers they needed. They needed to get better at where they stick the knife or how long they hold their stare for. They needed to fine tune their interrogation skills as it seemed they’d just ruined another one.
Dīs then looked to their captive with a rather listless expression. “I think that’s up to him,” they started and raised a brow. “What do you think? Address or would you rather go with our new friend?” A spat of blood was their only answer, despite the obvious fear that reeked off of him. What a waste. Was all of this as dead of an end as it seemed? With a sudden and twisted thrust of the knife that was already embedded in the man’s body, he was dead. A few sputteres escaped his open and bloodied mouth, but that was it.
The knife was pulled and held gingerly while the now corpse dropped to the ground and uttered its last remaining heartbeats. A disgruntled sort of sound escaped the nymph; they were disappointed, to say the least, and it showed on their face. “There, take it. I’m sure you will find more use for it than I could.” The blade was then wiped on a black handkerchief and stowed back into an inner pocket in their long robes. They then gave pause and turned their gold eyes to the young man who so graciously offered their… help. Or hunger — it mattered not to them.
“How might I find you, if I have more?”
‘Just give them what they want.’ It was like Caleb was trying to put the thought into the other man’s mind, the phrase repeating over and over while he stared down at him. But the efforts were lost, the man only spitting out the contents of his mouth in their direction, and he knew right then what was about to happen.
Knowing didn’t stop the flinch of his body as the stranger sunk the knife deeper, his eyes closing but the unmistakable gurgle of someone’s last breath thick with blood still filled the air. His heart sunk so low that time that it felt like it had left his body altogether, the void of not feeling only there for a split second before it all came rushing back again. He wished it had stayed gone, wished he had stayed numb to it all. Instead, when his eyes opened at the sound of the thud on the ground, Caleb’s chest started to ache at the sight in front of him.
Something told him that the callous way the person spoke of him afterwards meant he wasn’t getting much more of this story. It would have made him feel better to know if the tale of this man killing the other’s family was true. He assumed it wasn’t since an address was the object of their desire before. That didn’t seem like something a person full of grief needed unless they were going after others.
Others. Caleb swiftly looked up at the word ‘more’ with shock that probably should not have made an appearance. What made him think this would be the last of this person’s transgressions? It was said so nonchalantly, like they were making a business deal, which the zombie surmised was exactly what they were doing. “How many others are you planning on killing?” It was the wrong question and he knew it as soon as he’d said it. Did it matter? Not really, not when they were already implicated together. What was another body? Besides, wasn’t he doing this same thing with Anita?
Maybe…maybe this was the business venture he needed.
“You know what? I don’t need to know that.” He shook his head, looking back at the body on the ground while knowing he didn’t have too much time before rigor mortis started to set in and it would be even harder to move. He didn’t want to give them the funeral home’s business card, that would unnecessarily put people he loved in danger, so instead Caleb pulled out a random rewards card to an insignificant shop from his wallet. The pen was in the dead man’s front shirt pocket but he only hesitated for a moment before he was pulling it out and writing his cell number for the other. “You can reach me here if you have more.” When. He should have said when. He knew how this went. “I’m available…most of the time. What was your name?”
They were glad that he quashed his own curiosity, though they weren’t abashed enough to tell him to mind his own business if the question still stood. Dīs wasn’t ashamed of what they did, not in the slightest, but they weren’t going to have a full blown discussion about their plans with someone they’d just met, even if they both seemed to share similarly questionable morals. This wasn’t the place for it, anyway — it was much too public despite their shroud darkening the area. Maybe one day, if their nefarious no good deed were to ever cross paths with four walls and no wandering eyes. But until then, a made deal was enough to trust him with their leftovers.
It wasn’t like they were going to do anything with the bodies, anyway — these corpses weren’t special, they weren’t sought after. They were all killers, in their eyes, and they didn’t deserve a place among the decaying remains or jewels that littered their old, decrepit home. At least the nymph’s scraps would go to use elsewhere.
Dīs turned the piece of thin cardstock between their fingers and read over the phone number once before sliding it into a pocket. The rewards card was inconsequential, a throwaway, like the corpse before them. The nymph would save the number and the card would find its way to the bottom of a garbage bin. “Most of the time? I will leave my voice messages vague, then, if need be.” They stepped around the body to give the young man room to do whatever it was he was going to do. It would make sense to take the bounty home and then to take care of it, but they couldn’t exactly blame him if any… urges… became overwhelming.
“It is Dīs. That is what you may call me,” they answered coolly and smoothed out a wrinkle in one of their sleeves. There was always the opportunity, especially with people they’d never met before — gratitudes and greetings were plenty and easy to procure. The nymph could practically feel the inkling and goading of magic; a want, almost like an obsession, that tempted them to take and take and take. “And you? May I have your name?”
Deals did not mean exemptions.
But that’s only if the fineprint went unread.
“Yea, I do have actual jobs too.” He hadn’t meant for the words to sound harsh but for some reason that was how they came out. As many dead bodies as he’d seen, as well as the few murders he’d already committed, it was completely different to watch someone else do it intentionally, to see them take that light from a person. He’d always thought the worst part of seeing someone die was watching that life drain from them. It wasn’t the before or the after that bothered him but the moment when the before became the after, that one second where everything went dark. He’d closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it this time but Caleb’s mind was still replaying its own version back to him over and over which was unnerving to say the least. “Maybe just, say a location, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll forget your voice.”
Dīs. A name for the face of his newest client, the face of someone he hoped he didn’t have to see kill another again. The after was where Caleb belonged, where he hoped to stay, and if this were to become his new business venture he really hoped that the after could become his new home.
“Of course, yea…” Hopefully this time his voice didn’t portray how shaken he was, his hand reaching out to shake that of the killer’s before him. “It’s Caleb.” Not realizing what it was that he had just done, the zombie turned back to the body and tried to think of the best way to start this clean up. His truck was a couple of blocks away, he’d have to move it closer to the alley, possibly back it in if he could. All the possibilities were whirring inside his brain while oblivious to the fact that he’d just given Dīs more than a new business agreement.
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TIMING: End of September
LOCATION: Hallow's Eats
PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Caleb (@dirtwatchman)
SUMMARY: A repeat customer at the restaurant keeps asking for spicier and spicier dishes, and Wyatt is finally curious enough to leave the kitchen and see just who this person is. He's pleasantly surprised, and offers to cook Caleb a private dinner that might satisfy his palate.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
—
He always got those looks. Every single time Caleb ordered at any restaurant these days and he asked for the dish to be as spicy as possible people would pause and stare for a split second before composing themselves and walking away. It wasn’t like he could blame them, he didn’t exactly scream spice, but for once he wished that he could get through the order without feeling awkward as sin. It wasn’t like he did this too often but dining out used to be a much more pleasant experience without the stares. If he were perhaps a bit more secure with himself he might not have minded it much.
At least the food was good, or at least what he could taste of it. The spices blended well together and he enjoyed it despite not being able to actually enjoy the main course itself. It was a win tonight, for sure…well, until the waitress walked up with his bill. It wasn’t the price that caught him off guard though, it was the girl asking him to wait at his seat so the chef could come speak to him that caused a stir of panic within him. Had Caleb done something wrong? Was he about to get yelled at in front of the other patrons? Before he could even ask, the waitress was walking away so there was no way to quell the ball of anxiety that was knotting in his stomach.
He quickly looked at the dish in front of him, wondering if he should finish the rest of it before the chef could get to his table. It wasn’t like he could get full off of this stuff, the little stab of hunger almost constant within him these days as he did what he could to ration his supplies. He’d just…had enough. Caleb didn’t want to offend them though, whoever it was, so he started to work on the dish again, barely tasting anything this time while trying to gulp it down.
—
He wasn't sure if you could call the customer a regular at this point: Wyatt had only been the chef de partie at this particular restaurant for a month or so, but somewhere in that time, he'd received requests from a patron to make the dishes spicy. More than spicy, really—as hot as he could realistically manage. Expecting some kind of showoff personality (and appearance), Wyatt had been surprised the first time to see the young man sitting alone at a table for two, looking to all the world like a mild-mannered, polite sort of fellow. And he WAS that, according to what the waitress had told him the the first time. And the second time. And the third, and fourth—well, today, he was just going to have to MEET this man, and figure out exactly what his deal was. Was it important? Probably not, but Wyatt couldn't help his natural curiosity.
Slipping the apron off over his head but leaving it tied around his waist, Wyatt tucked the extra material away in the front as he moved out of the kitchen. The restaurant was full, as it always was, and most patrons were taking advantage of the 'costumes encouraged' sign that sat up front, tying the whole Halloween theme together... but some of them were not costumes, of course. Wyatt was looking positively human, though, figuring this wasn't the time to flex his scales, so to speak. After all, maybe this patron was just a normal guy that liked to numb his taste buds.
Approaching the table where the guest sat, Wyatt smiled and held out a hand as he sidled up to him. “Don't choke,” he chuckled good-naturedly, shaking the man's hand. Cold. Hm. “May I sit?” He noticed the worried expression on the other's face and did his best to assuage any concerns by adding, “I'm ain't mad, by the way. Just curious.” His thick cajun accent did him some favors in regards to sounding friendly, helping him come across as warm and nurturing rather than upset or offended. There was something to be said about southern charm.
—
The words only served to send a cough through Caleb's body as the zombie did his best to swallow the bite he'd taken just before the chef had made it to his table. He cleared his throat, trying to smile up at the other man but only managing a small grimace. ”Sorry, I just...“ He cleared his throat again, feeling whatever was stuck go down finally. ”It's really good, is all. It's good.“ Again, the man startled him with a handshake, something that Caleb tried to avoid most days because of the temperature of his body but wanting to be polite always won out over common sense. He was an idiot, that was for sure.
”Oh, yea, of course.“ The zombie gestured toward the seat opposite his, noting that this man was definitely not from around here. That accent was a dead give away and most anyone who was from Wicked's Rest probably wouldn't have asked to sit before taking their seat. Mostly because they recognized Caleb from around town. He did relax though when the other man partially explained his presence in the dining room as opposed to the kitchen. He hadn’t offended him at least.
”I don't think I've ever inspired enough curiosity to bring a chef out to me before. Seems like I should be...I don't know, honored? No, that doesn't seem like the right word. Proud maybe...I don't know, seems dumb now that I say it out loud.“ He'd relaxed a bit, but not completely lost all of the nerves coursing through him. Rambling was bound to happen. This was a chef though, what did Caleb have to worry about? ”Um, I hope you don’t mind me asking but why exactly are you curious?”
—
Smiling broadly while the other man stumbled over his words, Wyatt was taking stock of the notes he’d gathered so far: his hands lacked that distinctly human warmth, which really shouldn’t have been the case given how long he’d been inside out of the crisp evening air. He always wanted his food as spicy as the kitchen could make it, which could just be a preference, but it should’ve been causing some kind of visible reaction, given the peppers Wyatt had used in the dish to accommodate his taste. A flushed face, perspiration, any of the usuals… and yet.
Fascinating.
“Proud or honored are both acceptable, mostly ‘cause they make me seem like hot shit,” Wyatt chuckled, threading his fingers together as he rested his arms on the table between them. “Just never had someone so consistently askin’ for the temperature stakes to be raised. Even with the hotheads I’ve known in my life, they always needed a break from it. Now sure, maybe you get that in between visits here, ain’t a stretch, but…” He cocked his head at Caleb. “You also just don’t really strike me as the… type, if you pardon.” Clearing his throat, the lamia shook his head. “Where are my manners? Sorry, friend, you can call me Wyatt. Wyatt Barlow. And you are…?”
—
“I mean...yea, you should feel like that.” Reaching up, Caleb ran a hand over the back of his neck as he sat back in his seat, rigid as anything. The other man's friendly smile and laid back way of speaking should have been enough to placate his nerves and yet it seemed he was always on edge, uncomfortable with life. You never knew when people could turn. That was something he learned when he was younger. “It's...good food.” He lamely spoke the words even while realizing he'd already said them. Jesus, he should work on his people skills.
“I definitely get that between visits.” Because he didn't eat very much. But the man didn't need to know that. “Things are usually pretty mild for me, I just like the flavors that you use here.” Pulling excuses out of his ass was a typical response for Caleb these days and he'd gotten okay at it but there was always that underlying fear that he was making things worse for himself. If the world wouldn't start a witch hunt, the zombie would tell everyone exactly what he was just so the lies could stop.
He couldn't help the laugh that came out when the chef pointed out how unlikely he seemed to be the type for spice. Five years ago that would have been the case for sure. ”I get that, I guess people can surprise you though. Cajun has been a favorite of mine for a few years, ever since I stopped being afraid of the heat. Just got over it and took the plunge, you know?“ Shrugging his shoulders, he tried his best to play it off, hoping that the other wouldn't find it too weird. He did seem like he was trying to get at something. “Oh, uh I'm Caleb. Caleb Ellsworth...it's nice to meet you.”
—
They were all valid excuses, truth be told. And maybe, if not for the room temperature handshake, Wyatt could’ve let it lie. But he was nosy, despite a stranger on the internet telling him he shouldn’t be—in fact it was this stranger sat across from him that’d said that, not that he could have known. The world works in mysterious ways, and all that bullshit. Anyway, they were fine and valid points, and the lamia just nodded and listened and kept on smiling, finding the whole thing to be rather charming.
“It’s very nice to meet you, my good man,” Wyatt went on, ever the schmoozer. “Well hey, I tell you what, Caleb Ellsworth… since you seem so keen on eatin’ dangerously seasoned food, n’ I get such a kick outta makin’ said dangerously seasoned food… I’ve got a proposition for you.” He sat up a little straighter in his seat, tapping an index finger against the tabletop. “Got constraints on what I can send out from the kitchen here, you see. First there’s the menu, n’ deviatin’ from it ain’t exactly gonna win me a lot of bonus points with the boss, and the proprietor don’t want me sendin’ folks out on stretchers. But… if you’re interested, I do spend a mighty significant amount of time at home makin’ food that’ll knock your goddamn britches off.” The smile turned into something a bit more teasing, but still pleasant all the same. “Or at least it’ll sure well try.” He splayed his hands in the air in front of him in a sort of mock-defensive gesture, continuing with, “Now, I ain’t askin’ a perfect stranger to come eat in my dinin’ room with me, unless that perfect stranger is feelin’ particularly adventurous, however… tupperware exists, and there are plenty of places in town two fellas lookin’ to ruin the linin’ of their stomachs can meet up n’ share a home cooked meal.” He lifted a brow. “Whaddya say?”
—
The offer was....surprising to say the least, and Caleb was taken aback for a moment. If he could blush he wouldn't have been able to stop the heat from filling his cheeks but instead he cleared his throat and diverted his eyes to the plate still in front of him on the table. It was tempting, very tempting, but he couldn't help but think about what ramifications could come from this. Going to a stranger's house, albeit a stranger that had a way of making him feel comfortable enough, wasn't the greatest idea in any part of the country, much less Wicked's Rest. But he was offering to meet up elsewhere which did help subdue some of the uncertainty. And who was he to give up on making a new friend?
“How often does one get the offer of a private meal from a chef?” Especially one that could cater to his mostly dead taste buds? “I don't really think I can turn that down.” He smiled, finally looking up from the table to meet Wyatt's eyes again. Now, the question of whether he was feeling more adventurous than he had been in his life was still up in the air. He was charming, that was a give in, but the slight fishing the man had been doing was still worrisome.
Too many variables were running through Caleb's mind so he shook his head gently and said the first thing that came to him. “I am feeling particularly adventurous. I should probably take advantage of that while it lasts.” Because it wouldn't last long. In fact, he would most likely wake up in the morning and dread this upcoming outing, become a nervous ball of energy, but right now Wyatt's calming effect was working wonders on calming his psyche.
—
Brows both raised now, lips downturned into a comical pout as Wyatt responded to the rhetorical question with a shrug, and the gesture was quickly followed up by a chuckle. The man seemed to mull it over for a few moments longer before finally agreeing, and much to Wyatt’s surprise and delight, agreeing to come to his place.
That was fine, he could behave for an evening.
“Ah!” He clapped his hands excitedly before rubbing them together like a scheming little raccoon, the grin on his face widening further, if that was possible. “Mon cher, I love to hear that! You won’t regret it.” Reaching down into the apron that was still tied around his waist, the lamia pulled out a pencil and a piece of receipt paper. “How’s next Friday sound? I’ve got the rare night off from here.” And no fights scheduled at the Pit. He was scribbling down his number as he spoke, making sure it was legible before sliding it across the table to Caleb. “Here. Take this, think about it, and let me know if you’re still interested, d’accord? No pressure. And—well, I’ve got to get my ass back to work before I get a talkin’ to.” He stood again, pausing before leaving to give Caleb a wink. “Here’s hopin’ it’s a date, firebug.”
—
Next Friday, just enough time for him to change his mind and get out of this. But was that something he really wanted? No, no, Caleb wanted to go to this man's house and enjoy a meal with him so he nodded to show his agreement. And then came the last line from Wyatt's mouth and he froze in his place at the table.
Oh, what did he just do? Caleb stared down at the number that was just given to him and he could have sworn that his cheeks were burning this time around. Looking up at the retreating figure, he tried to get any words out of his mouth, anything, but nothing was coming to him as what he'd just agreed to really hit him. Something akin to nervous butterflies started to flutter in his stomach, a feeling that had evaded him for a long time, but he finally sputtered out what he could even though Wyatt had already disappeared into the kitchen.
”It's a date.“
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[pm] I really appreciate the gift. You didn't have to do that, though. Also, can I ask who Scout is?
[pm] I know, but I wanted to. Besides, you can't listen to the same songs over and over again for your entire life. And Scout's my dog.
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@dirtwatchman
[pm] Oh, yea, I can do that. And add something from me I'll take them inside with your next delivery.
Also, thank you for the gift. It was very sweet of you. You didn't have to do that.
[pm] Thanks, Caleb. I really appreciate it. I should be back after the new year.
Yeah, no problem. I mean, you do play a big role in my life, so I thought it was the least I could.
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[pm] Would you be okay if your next [...] order was delayed? Only by a day or two. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to run out.
[pm] Uh, I think so. I mean as long as I don't fall off a balcony or get into something I shouldn't be into, it should be fine. I'll just hangout at home. Safer for everyone that way.
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman, @disengagedspirit
TIMING: Late April, in the year 2024.
SUMMARY: Mercy and Caleb have a heart-to-heart about what it means to love in the 21st Century.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Homophobia tw, unsanitary (light mention) tw
The good thing about taking in a vampire? He still didn’t have to buy food when he went to the grocery store unless one of them just really wanted something. But Caleb still had to grab laundry detergent and cleaning supplies, especially when the two of them lived off of blood and brains, two things that were particularly messy. While he’d been out he’d seen a little trinket in the store that for some reason had reminded him of his new houseguest, recalling the memory of coming home to hear she had tried to fight his washing machine with a broom. It made him laugh, he figured it might make her laugh as well and on a whim he’d bought it.
“Mercy!” His voice carried through the house as he placed the few bags in hand on the kitchen counter, wondering if the woman had gone to work or was out telling more people how old she actually was. He really needed to tell her that wasn’t the best idea since she seemed so determined to do so online. There was no telling who knew what she was now. “I got you something at the store.”
Caleb grabbed the little dragon figurine, turning to face the blonde as she came into the room with a bright smile that held a hint of playfulness. He flew it through the air, cutting up and down. “I don’t know why but it reminded me of you.” Maybe it was the vampire's resilience resembling what he imagined a dragon’s could amount to. She’d been through so much even before being locked underground for so long and now she was going through relearning the ways of the world. “Dragons are fierce, I imagine you are too when you need to be.”
—
It was Mercy’s day off from The Sugar Pot, and she had decided to spend her free time trying to get more acquainted with the modern day conveniences located in Caleb’s house. She had known to stay out of the basement and to respect his boundaries, but there had still been a lot of places left untapped, like the outer storage area and the hall that led to it. A hall she had been tempted to go down many times, but was cautious out of what might lay within the confines of this new location.
Gathering the courage, with her trusty broom in hand in case there came the need to fend off any looming monsters, Mercy approached the door and with a determined glare, opened it and charged inside with a battle cry!
“Goodman Caleb, is that you? I’m back here in your smokehouse! Did you know there are no meats back here? Only cobwebs and lots of dust and grime.” She came walking down the hall and through the house to meet up with Caleb covered in dust and cobwebs from head-to-toe; the dirt on her face only causing her blue eyes to stand out more than they usually did.
As she laid eyes on him and the dragon figurine, her face lit up with joy, “You purchased me a gift with your hard earned labor?” The tiny 5’2” blonde stepped closer and reached up to take the figurine from his hand and looked it over, taking in every single detail; tears forming in her eyes, “Caleb, this means the world to me. How may I repay you? Shall I clean out your smokehouse so you may use it for the upcoming winter to store meats in. My trusty broom is still back there ready and lying in wait to tackle even the most foul of creatures.”
—
By now he should have been used to her way of thinking, the nuances of her words and what she compared things to, but it still amused him every time he interacted with Mercy. Her brain connected things so differently than he’d ever thought possible. His lips lifted when he noticed how dirty she was coming out of the storage room, the thought of needing to clean out in the back of his mind, but Caleb shook his head at her offer. “You don’t have to give me anything in return, Mercy, it’s a gift. Just because I wanted to.” The tears shining in her eyes sent a crease to his brow, the zombie moving forward as if it would help reiterate his point to be closer to her. “It just made me think of you, is all. It’s what friends do.”
After he felt his point had gotten across, he turned back to the few groceries that he’d brought in and started to put them away. “Besides, it’s not a smokehouse, no matter how cool one of those would be. It’s just a storage area that I haven’t touched in a while. No need to get attacked by dust bunnies. I think your broom needs a break.” Because it was hers now. Even if Caleb needed to use it every now and then he still considered it hers. It was her main source of feeling protected in such a large world that she had woken up in and he would never take that away from her.
With everything put away, he turned back to her with another smile, taking every opportunity to make her feel more comfortable in his home. Truth be told, it was nice to have someone around on a constant basis. People had stayed over in the past but it had been a long time since he’d had someone to share all of his time and Mercy was someone that he didn’t mind doing that with. Caleb had never had that before and he liked it. “Are you hungry or anything? I could grab something for you in the basement…”
—
It had been so long since Mercy had been given something so special that she could call her own. The last thing had been the coffin she had been buried in with the nail that held her in place out of fear for what she had become. But now she stood in the presence of a man who had taken a chance on who she was now giving her a roof over her head, food, and a small trinket of his appreciation for their friendship, “Caleb Ellsworth, you consider me your friend? I will take that vow and cherish it in mine own unbeating heart, until the day I am rendered useless.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stepped forward and latched onto him interrupting his chore of putting away the groceries.
Pulling away, she looked down at the dragon before setting it gently on the counter and focusing her attention back on him, “I dare not come across bunnies of dust. If I had I would have fed them by now. Did you trade for carrots while you were out? If so, I shall go attend to them. Besides, I hath left my broom in your…storage area, and I must retrieve it.” Mercy didn’t mind doing chores or cleaning up. It’s what she had spent most days doing when she had still been alive, and it was ingrained in every part of her being.
However, she gave way to a pause when he had mentioned food, “Aye, I could eat. Are you hungry? Tis past dinner time, nearly supper.” At least time had been one thing that seemed to stay the same. Or so she thought, until Daylight Savings Time had come around, but that’s a tale for another thread. “I shall retrieve my broom and wash up, while you prepare the meal. If that suits you?”
—
The hug had been a surprise, the boy tensing when he’d felt her arms wrap around him from behind but he recovered quickly by placing his hand on top of hers. Cold met cold to forge that alliance of friendship that Caleb could feel she’d been craving. “Same here, Mercy Williams. These days most of us just say ‘friends forever’ but I like the way you said it better.” Still, he hoped she was still using her Duolingo. Speaking like that was going to raise so many red flags and apparently hunters were a thing that he had been unaware of before. He wanted her safe even if that meant losing the dialogue of her past.
“Oh, no, we don’t feed dust bunnies. We get rid of them. Don’t worry, they’re not actually alive.” Though he had seen a few skittering around like they were. He just assumed they were being blown around by the air vents before realizing his air was never on. They didn’t need it. He still continued to ignore them since they seemed harmless for now.
Nodding his head at her suggestion, Caleb pushed off from the counter he’d been leaning against. “I’m not actually hungry, I ate with Wyatt last night, but I’ll grab you something. Just give me a minute.” With that, the zombie unlocked the door and made his way down the stairs of his basement, flicking the switch on his wall to illuminate what he could only describe as a scene from a horror movie. Refrigerators and freezers lined the walls, purchases from the budding days of his business so that he could keep up with demand. One of the fluorescent lights overhead always seemed to flicker a little even though he told himself every time he was in here that he needed to fix that. He was usually busy while down here and always forgot. The work table he’d set in the middle of the room was stained dark from blood but the majority of the power tools that were lined around it were shining brightly as if they’d never been used. They had been…way too often.
Caleb hated this room. It was his deepest shame and the one place that he knew would land him in the big house if the wrong people ever saw it. But it was necessary. Besides, the majority of the bodies he’d brought down here were dead by another’s hand whether that be disease, accidental…or his new clientele for the other side of his business.
Walking over to the fridge that he had cleared out just for Mercy, he grabbed one of the mason jars filled with blood. Another new ‘hobby’ of his. She needed to feed and he felt better knowing she wasn’t attacking random people on the street for her meals. He was already using these bodies, using the whole thing was responsible, right? After thinking it over, he grabbed a second in case she was famished.
“Merce, I got two. I didn’t know how hungry you were but I figured it was better safe than sorry.” The jars were tucked under his arm as he put the padlock back on but soon they were being placed at the little kitchen table for her. “Find any monsters hanging out in the storage?”
—
Mercy had liked the shortened version…friends forever. She would hold it in her mind only bringing it out for special occasions. After all, she had been burned, hypothetically speaking, in the past by someone who was supposed to be her best friend. But Caleb was different. Caleb accepted her for who she had become, and to her, that meant everything. Plus, he reassured her of all the things that didn’t make sense, like the bunnies of dust, and how they weren’t living; even though she could have sworn she had seen them hopping around when she had returned for her broom. Nevertheless, she had shrugged off their existence and need for nourishment, instead returning to her bedroom where she could wash up.
After she had finished and put fresh clothes on, Mercy returned to the kitchen. It was a shame to be eating alone again, and she couldn’t help, but feel some sadness. It seemed as though Caleb was constantly out with this Wyatt fellow. She had yet to meet him, but she wanted to know more about him. Everytime Caleb mentioned his name, it was as if the man’s face lit up, and Mercy knew that look all too well from her own experience of loving somebody.
Seeing Caleb standing near the kitchen table, Mercy went to meet him. She had easily slipped into her favorite spot out of the way of everything, but with a perfect view ahead of her. Eating with her back to whatever could be waiting on her had become a no-no in her book. Instead, she wanted to see everything that was happening around her, “I shall take pleasure in consuming both of them as I am rather parched from the day's explorations and no breakfast. As for monsters, the only monsters were said bunnies of dust hopping around your storage room floor.” She ran her tongue across her lips at the sight of the delicious red liquid that was sitting in front of her, but before she reached out to take one, she set her eyes back on Caleb, “Caleb, may I ask thee…you…may I ask you a question?”
—
Hopping. So she saw them too. Maybe he couldn’t ignore that much longer. It was new, that was for sure, but at least they were sticking to the storage room. He grabbed a bottle of hot sauce from the kitchen fridge, a milder one used for the purposes of a ‘drink’ and made his way to the seat across from her. Nobody likes to eat alone, right? Even if watching her drink the blood was a little weird Caleb couldn’t judge. The man ate brains and was currently taking a sip of the hot sauce in hand for his refreshment.
Her question made him nervous though. It wasn’t the actual question itself, it was the way that she had asked it. Usually Mercy wasn’t timid with him since she knew he was willing to teach but this one had that tinge of nerves in her words. He pressed his lips together as the hot sauce went down and nodded. “Yea, you know you can ask me anything. What’s going on?”
—
She was a bit relieved to see him sit down next to her. Hot sauce in hand. His usual drink of choice, and one Mercy had grown rather curious about. But as long as he was there, it didn’t matter what he had. The vampire was just glad to have her friend with her while she enjoyed her early supper. But the question that was looming was something she was trying to understand. In her time, it was forbidden and could mean death if the two participating in such acts were caught, but here, in this time, it all seemed so nonchalant and accepted. At least from what she could tell.
Unscrewing the jar slowly, Mercy thought long and hard of how to gauge her question without running the risk of upsetting or offending Caleb, “This Wyatt fellow you are so fond of and constantly speak of…are you courting each other?” She felt embarrassed to ask. Most things that seemed commonplace, she didn’t understand and often left her feeling confused and fearful of upsetting the person she was talking to. And while she had thought about scouring the internet for answers to this particular question, she was afraid to.
—
Courting? The word confused him but a moment later Caleb realized what Mercy was asking and then even further realization came to him. Of course she didn’t understand it. The vampire had been locked up underground for over three hundred years, how could she know what was going on? “I don’t know if I would call it courting, mostly because I’m not sure the full meaning of that word to you. I don’t know if we’ve even defined what we’re doing but I don’t think we need to right now, I’m just enjoying it for what it is. I am seeing him though…romantically.”
His hand went to the back of his neck, suddenly nervous about what this meant for them. Would she think less of him for who he liked? He imagined what would have happened to someone back in her time if they’d been caught doing this and the idea of it wasn’t pretty but was Mercy open enough to accept that things had changed when compared to that age? “I’m sure you have more questions now. I’d like to answer them all if you’re okay with asking them.” The silent thought hung between them. ‘If you’re still okay with me.’ ringing through his mind. Caleb started to avoid eye contact with her by staring at the hot sauce bottle in his hand, his fingers moving over the label as a distraction.
—
Mercy was somewhat surprised by the answer. A fear had washed over her, but she knew it had been out of what she had been taught as a little girl. She didn’t want her best friend to be sent to hell, because of who he had feelings for. It was something she had never really understood. Sure, the Geneva Bible had taught the word of God from a fear based standpoint, but for as long as Mercy could recall, she had always quietly questioned why someone who would create love in the first place and the animals and the stars and the moon up above; why would He cast down such damnation on his children for showing their hearts to one another. But it wasn’t a thought she had ever dared speak out loud. Even now, she was afraid of the consequences of this conversation, but then she realized that she wasn’t even considered one of God’s true children anymore. She couldn’t even speak His name or lay hands on a Bible without feeling imminent pain.
Her appetite had been put on the backburner as she put the lid back on the jar of blood and pushed it to the side, “Is this a natural way of life now or are you the exception? And if you are dare caught, are there consequences? Will you be made an example of and put to death?” They were all valid questions in her mind, because Mercy didn’t want to see Caleb get hurt.
—
“I’m definitely not the exception.” Right out the gate with the heavy hitters. For a moment, Caleb wasn’t sure how to answer all of those. Sexuality was even more complicated these days and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression about how it was being accepted in society or how it wasn’t. Because there were safe spaces for some and not so safe spaces for others. “Those aren’t as easy to answer as I was hoping they’d be. I don’t know if I’m going to explain this too well because everyone’s story is so different so I might have different thoughts on this than others do.” He gave her a nervous chuckle before growing quiet again, trying to think of how to go about this to someone who was brand new to this world. “I think it all sums up to the people who are in our lives somehow. Some people are lucky. They have acceptance for who they are from the ones they love. Others, unfortunately, don't have that safe space and have to make their own.”
Worrying his bottom lip, he finally looked back up at Mercy and sighed. “But no matter who you’re around there’s always that fear lingering in the back of your mind. I wouldn’t say that sexuallities that are different from hetero are a more natural way of life now because I think they’ve always been there but they’re more out in the open now. There’s still the fear of showing it though because there are a lot of ignorant people still out there. Religion is still used to justify their hate, people still don’t like different. Not everyone, of course, but more than enough. We won’t be put to death, not in the traditional sense anyway, but the prejudices are still there. People can still get hurt whether that’s physically or emotionally or both.”
—
Mercy sat quietly listening to Caleb. The world had changed over the course of centuries. Everything was different. People were different. And instead of living in such a black and white society, Mercy was finding gray areas to be more prominent now. People seemed more intricate, and even though this was sometimes hard to accept, the 17th century colonial woman was finding more and more that she liked this freedom of being able to further define your character. Who you wanted to be. She had only experienced the tip of the iceberg, but this was like a fresh new start for her. All the things she could recall feeling; things that were slowly coming back to her, were things that had sat wrong in her heart at times. She had only been so devout, because that’s what her parents had taught her. What they had wanted for her. And when she was grown, married, and with child, it became her responsibility to care for that child and her husband leaving her no chance to really find out who she was or what she enjoyed that wasn’t tied to a familial life.
“Thankee, Caleb, for answering my questions. I was raised on certain beliefs that my parents felt crucial to pass down to me and my brother. They only taught us what they knew. One did not stray far from that of religion and the lessons we were supposed to learn. But this new world…This modern world, I see that people are more so free from religion and its confines. I suppose I am as well, not by mine own choice.” Mercy looked down and thumbed at the edge of the table, before sighing softly and focusing her gaze back on him, “I do not know if I will ever be able to give my heart to another, but I support you in your freedoms, Goodman Caleb. I hold no bias or judgment. Only that he treat you kindly, or I will drain him of his blood.” Her face was stern, before it softened into a warm smile lighting up her eyes.
—
His gaze softened as the worry started to melt with her words. For someone who was brought up in a time where this was unfathomable she was so quick to accept Caleb’s way of life all while threatening to harm someone if they dare hurt him. He knew she probably had more questions since this was something that couldn't be wrapped up in a two minute discussion but he was also glad that she was willing to accept things and drop the rest so quickly. It was a topic that made him anxious to say the least. A little at a time was better than a lifetime of discussion being crammed into an afternoon.
“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that. But I’d rather you not drain anyone even if I do get hurt, okay? That’s always the risk you take going into something and I’m willing to take that risk.” If anything, Caleb was more worried he would do the hurting here. “Why don’t you keep eating? Like I said, I’d rather you not drain anyone so let's keep you full.” With that, Caleb stood from his chair and put the hot sauce back into the fridge. He wanted to let her finish her meal and his shot nerves needed a bit of a break. But before he walked away, the zombie picked up the dragon figurine from the counter and ‘flew’ it over towards her, placing it on the table in front of the vampire. “See? Fierce…just like I said.”
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @mortemoppetere
TIMING: Late October
SUMMARY: Emilio is investigating the disappearance of someone who's blood was found at Caleb's place of work. He wants to talk to the groundskeeper, especially after he realizes the man is dead.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Head trauma tw
It wasn’t uncommon for a police presence to be around the cemetery these days with the presence of blood being found on one of the tombstones. Caleb was getting used to it now, still on edge while they were walking around but calmer than he had been before. It also wasn’t unusual to see random people trekking through the graveyard on any given day, it was a place for people to visit their deceased loved ones after all. What was unusual though was a random man looking around the area of the crime scene with no indication that he was there to visit a gravesite. It made Caleb nervous, the zombie looking up from clearing away dead flowers every now and then to make sure he wasn’t being overly paranoid.
No, this wasn’t right. It was decided when Caleb looked up the fifth…or sixth time and the man still hadn’t found what he was looking for. He took off the work gloves he was wearing and set them in the back of his truck along with the half full trash bag before making his way over to where the unknown man was, the sun in his eyes making him squint so he couldn’t get a good look.
He really did hate confrontation. He’d do it if he had to but the nerves were already coursing through him as he thought the worst but each step he took towards the stranger only made them worse. Caleb finally made it within earshot of the other, making his voice louder so that he could get his attention more effectively before the groundskeeper could change his mind. “Can I help you find something? You look a little lost.”
Unsolved deaths were common in Wicked’s Rest. Emilio got a lot of people coming to his office, telling similar stories. The police said it was an animal attack, but it doesn’t feel right. They closed the case. They said there wasn’t enough evidence. They ruled it an accident. They’re not interested in pursuing an investigation. Over and over, like a broken record that kept playing the same song. The police were incompetent, or overworked, or lazy, or stretched too thin. Whatever you wanted to call it, the end result was always the same — Emilio picked up the slack and helped get people closure. And they hated him for it, half the time, but it paid the bills anyway. It gave him something to do. It didn’t make him feel like shit. He was good at it. So he kept doing it.
This case was more of the same. Guy winds up dead in a graveyard, police don’t do shit. The attack was a supernatural one; Emilio was confident of that. It was a detail that would make the case easier to investigate, but harder to explain. He knew supernatural entities a lot better than he knew people, but telling someone that their loved one had been killed by something they’d assumed was a fairytale? Wasn’t on the table. With cases like this, he had to both solve the case and come up with a ‘reasonable’ explanation if he wanted to get his payday.
It left him thoughtful as he studied the crime scene, lost in his head enough to ignore the groundskeeper a ways away. At least, until said groundskeeper got a little closer. Immediately, that familiar shiver ran down his spine. Undead, his mind supplied. The groundskeeper is undead. Of course he was. In this fucking town, who wasn’t? “Not lost,” he said gruffly, tensing as the man drew near. “What can you tell me about this?”
He slowed his steps as the other man spoke, Caleb getting the feeling that his presence wasn’t exactly wanted. With the question, his eyes went to the very headstone that the zombie was hoping this conversation wouldn’t lead to before landing on the other man. Of course, he was some sort of plainclothes detective or something that the department had sent over. Maybe they were hoping that he would say something that he hadn’t yet told the police, catch him in some sort of lie. He’d always gotten the feeling that the police didn’t really believe that he’d just stumbled upon the blood the same time they had.
Instead of answering with the same tired story, he raised his eyebrows at the man, doing his best to stall. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be talking about that with someone who isn’t with the police. The case is still open.” Not that the assigned detective was doing much. He’d have patrols there sometimes, took samples of the blood to figure out who it had belonged to, and questioned Caleb mercilessly but they were no closer to figuring out what happened than they were to most of the cases around town. “Are you with the police?”
So the police had been here. The woman who’d hired Emilio — the dead man’s wife — hadn’t been sure they were doing much of anything at all with how stagnant the case had been. Updates on it had been so few and far between that she’d felt she had no choice but to seek outside help. Which, of course, worked better for Emilio, anyway. Got him his paycheck, helped him keep the lights on in his shitty apartment. Made him feel a little less useless, too.
He scowled at the groundskeeper’s question. “Do I look like I’m with the police? Sound like it? La policía son idiotas. They’re just going to keep the case open until they can say it’s gone cold and close it. I’d rather get a real answer. So forget the police. They won’t know you talked to me. I ask again, what can you tell me about this?”
And yet Caleb didn’t want him to have a real answer. A real answer meant implicating himself, letting everyone know his greatest shame in life. A real answer meant he went to jail and endangered everyone in that police station. No, he couldn’t give real answers and the most frustrating part is that nobody understood that. How could they? They didn’t know him, they didn’t know what he could do if he got hungry enough.
The only saving grace in this situation was that the guy despised the police as much as Caleb did. He wanted to laugh but the situation was far too somber for him to do so. “I know they’re idiots, doesn’t mean you can’t be one. I don’t know you.” This whole thing could have been an act. The department had questioned Caleb over and over trying to see if his story had changed at all and it never did. For all he knew, this guy was sent in to confirm the groundskeeper wasn’t holding anything back. Because it was always the groundskeeper, right? At least they were looking in the right place this time. Of course, he had thought the same about another man not long before this and that had turned out fine. Who knew?
Running a hand through his hair, he squinted down at the headstone again and shrugged a shoulder. “Look, I want to help as much as the next guy but all I know is that the stone was clean one day and then had blood on it the next. The police saw it before I did.” Technically not a lie. Caleb had seen the person’s head hit but it never registered that blood would be there in his panicked state. Someone had called the police about it, supposedly a passerby who’d spotted the red glinting in the sunlight. “I don’t even know who told them, just that I couldn’t clean it until they were done with it.”
“You think I’m an idiot?” There was a hint of something that was almost amusement in his tone. Almost, but not quite. It might have been, had it not been for that churning in his gut that allowed him to know on sight that the groundskeeper’s heart wasn’t beating, or if not for the case he was investigating and the grieving woman waiting for news on her husband. But as it was? Emilio was as suspicious of the groundskeeper as he was of everyone, which was to say… very. He eyed the man, wondering if he knew more than he was saying. Probably, right? People usually did. Lying was an instinctual thing, it seemed; people did it without thinking about it, without even considering other options. It was like breathing. People lied. Sometimes it was to protect themselves. Other times, it was to save them embarrassment. And sometimes, people lied for no reason at all. It made his job a hell of a lot harder.
The story was… mostly believable. Still, suspicion tugged at the detective’s gut, and he eyed the groundskeeper with a critical eye. “Were you working that night? The night between it being clean and bloody.” If the groundskeeper had an alibi, Emilio could, at the very least, scratch him off the suspect list. If he didn’t… It was hard to shake the feeling that there were things he wasn’t saying, secrets he had hidden away. Emilio wasn’t a police officer. He wasn’t here to arrest anyone, wouldn’t even if he had the power to. After all, putting someone undead in a jail cell wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. He knew that. He just wanted answers for his client… and, maybe, to know whether or not there was something that needed cleaning up. Jail cells might not work for the undead, but a stake or a blade could solve the problem well enough on its own. He might only do that kind of thing when it was necessary nowadays, but it was sometimes necessary. There was no denying that.
“....I don’t know, are you a cop? I know you said you weren’t but people have lied to me before.” As much as he wanted to stand his ground on this he was starting to feel bad for insinuating the other was, in fact, an idiot. He hadn’t even meant to do it. But he also hadn’t meant to turn this conversation into a circle of sorts, the same things coming around over and over again. Though, that was probably for the best. The longer they talked about the police, the less they talked about the actual reason the guy was here. Maybe he would get frustrated with Caleb and leave.
The next question made him nervous and the zombie had to be careful with it. The truth was, he had been working but if he said that he was digging Mrs. Darcy’s grave then everyone would know he’d been right here the whole time. He just hoped nobody was checking with Erin to confirm what part of the cemetery he’d been in through paperwork. “I was, but it was on the other side of the cemetery. I was digging a grave for a Mr. Hensley and the excavator was really loud.” That was plausible, right? It’s what he’d been telling the place and they hadn’t bothered to check the records.
Something did occur to Caleb, though. He was sitting here answering this guy’s questions without even knowing who he was. If he wasn’t the police, then who was he? “Wait, wait, who are you again? If you’re not the police then why are you investigating? For the paper or something?”
“They don’t let people like me be cops.” Which reason would disqualify him first, he wondered — the instability? The lack of documentation confirming that he was allowed to be in the country in the first place? The fact that he was fairly certain he didn’t even have a Mexican birth certificate to attempt to obtain legal citizenship? His simple inability to follow orders he didn’t believe in? There were a thousand things that would prevent him from obtaining most jobs, and that was before you got down to the moral objections he carried towards police, or the fact that he probably wouldn’t have been particularly good at the profession to begin with. They didn’t let people like Emilio be cops, and that served people like Emilio just fine.
But none of that was particularly important at the moment. As mildly amusing as the verbal back and forth might be, Emilio was much more interested in what had the undead groundskeeper schooling his expression to this extent. He glanced over in the direction the groundskeeper indicated, making a note to find the grave he claimed to have been digging when he was finished with the conversation here. “And you didn’t see anything? No people around, nothing at all? Were you the one who found the body?” Some undead had muted senses, so it would make sense that he hadn’t heard anything, but… If he was a fury, he would have felt the rage that came with a murder. A vampire or zombie would have smelled the aftermath. A mare might have the excuse of not noticing, he supposed, though even that felt a little unlikely.
The question wasn’t unexpected, and Emilio didn’t have much of a reason not to answer it anymore, so he shrugged. “Private investigator. I’d give you a business card, but I don’t like people calling me. I was hired because the police are idiots. Just want to get a family some answers so they can move on with their lives, pick up the pieces. Sure you understand. That’s what you do, too, isn’t it? Help people move on.” He indicated to the graves around them. “So help me out here, man. I’m not looking to get anyone in trouble. That’s not what I do.”
“That makes two of us. Not that I want to be one.” He sighed, Caleb trying his best to give the appearance of breathing but also he wanted this man to know he was tired of this already. Between the police and this he wondered how they had such a high unsolved murder rate in this town because they sure weren’t leaving him alone. “I didn’t find the body because it’s still missing from what I can tell. All they found was blood…this person could still be alive for all we know. And I didn’t see anyone around that night. You kind of have to concentrate with big machinery or someone could get hurt…that someone being me, usually.” No, he didn’t find the body, he hid it after killing them in the first place. But he had seen someone around afterwards, someone who had kept his secret up to this point. He wasn’t about to throw her under the bus.
A private investigator almost sounded worse than the police. That meant that he would actually do his job and get to the bottom of this and that…was not okay. At least not for Caleb. The man was definitely pulling at his heartstrings though when bringing up the family and for a split second he considered confessing it all. How freeing would it be to let it out? To know that the person’s family could get some closure with it?
Then again, confessing meant a whole slew of new problems and his goal was to keep people safe from him, not make things more dangerous. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just let someone end it all.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had hit him and he’d really considered it for a little bit but his friends, the ones who made Caleb feel like family, were more than enough to wipe those thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t enough to fully keep them away unfortunately. “I wish I could help you help them….but I don’t know anything other than the fact that there’s a lot of weird stuff that happens here at night. People should stay away.”
“That makes two of us,” Emilio repeated the man’s own words back to him with the faintest hint of a smile. If the groundskeeper was hiding something, he was decent at it. None of Emilio’s questions, designed to trip him up, seemed to faze the guy. Still, that distrust lingered. An undead groundskeeper and a missing corpse told a certain story, didn’t it? It was hard not to think there was more to this story. “Must have been pretty distracted for them to have time to make off with a body under your nose,” he commented, keeping his tone casual as best he could. Something here didn’t add up. He could see why the police kept hassling the groundskeeper, even if there was no way for the authorities to know what Emilio knew about the man’s missing heartbeat.
Something flashed across the groundskeeper’s face. Brief, but there all the same. Emilio took note of it. At best, this man knew more than he was letting on. Maybe he’d come across the body after the fact and used it for an easy meal, or let the killers slide in exchange for something. But at worst? At worst, there was blood on his hands. And that was all well and good — plenty of people in this town had blood on their hands — but it was Emilio’s job to let the dead man’s wife know whatever version of the truth she’d be able to handle. He owed her that much.
In either case, it didn’t seem that the groundskeeper was willing to be forthcoming. No one in this town ever wanted to make the detective’s job easy. He’d figured that out pretty quickly. He had to take what he could get, in situations like this one.
Luckily, he was a decent taker.
“What kind of weird stuff?” He knew, of course, what graveyards in this town were prone to. This was more of a test, an attempt to see what the groundskeeper would tell him. Less about information, more about… testing honesty.
“I must have been. I tend to listen to music too.” Which wasn’t a lie, he’d just forgotten to add that part in because he hadn’t been that night. Most of the time when Caleb was digging his headphones were on with loud music blasting through them. If only he’d thought to tell the police that earlier on. He knew what this looked like though, knew that grasping at straws was not good in situations like this, and he was pretty certain the investigator suspected him as well at this point. It sucked but what proof did they have? What proof could they find? He wasn’t saying anymore and instead started to fiddle with the gloves he previously took off to try and distract himself from this.
What kind of weird stuff? Oh, he could say so many things to that. Even when he was alive he’d seen some strange things but he never confronted them until there was nothing left to lose. His heartbeat was gone, why not get tossed around by a rogue vampire or two? This really wasn’t something to lie about either. His own guilt was one thing but trying to lie about the supernatural to someone who deserved to know what they were in for was another thing entirely.
Still, he hesitated. What the hell would he believe? Had this guy already encountered weird stuff before and was feigning innocence or was he completely clueless? “Just…stuff you don’t want to know about.” Caleb looked up from the gloves, hoping the sincerity was clear as he continued. “Stuff that you probably don’t think is real….but you should.” Man he was really playing into the creepy groundskeeper trope right now. Was it time to accept his fate as the one no one trusts but should? “Just be careful if you’re investigating this place, or any cemetery really.”
It felt like an attempt to cover his ass. If he were listening to music, why wouldn’t he have said so sooner? It should have been his first line of defense, not a desperate attempt to cover himself. Emilio tried to hide the suspicion from his expression, tried not to let the doubt shine through. It was better, he thought, if the groundskeeper didn’t know he suspected him. He could use it to his advantage, let the guy think he was getting away with something. Emilio still wasn’t sure if the man had had any involvement in the ‘disappearance’ in the cemetery or if he was just trying to cover up the fact that he was undead, but either way… the hunter preferred to be the one holding the cards.
“If I didn’t want to know about it, I wouldn’t ask,” Emilio replied, tilting his head to the side. He tried to play the part of clueless yet curious detective, tried to goad the stranger into giving him more information than he likely would have had he known that the person he was speaking to was a slayer. He wasn’t sure how good he was at it. Undercover work had never been something Emilio excelled at. He was much better at forcing answers out of a person than he was at tricking them.
The fact that the groundskeeper seemed to be offering a warning told him a little something, though. Was he trying to make sure Emilio was safe, or was he trying to ensure that wandering eyes steered clear of cemeteries he was haunting? It was difficult to know for sure. “I’m pretty good at watching my own back,” the detective replied with a shrug. “You see weird shit out here a lot?”
It seemed like the investigator was moving on to the topic of strange things and Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He really just wanted to be done with this conversation altogether but walking away would be more suspicious than not, right? Still, the shift in topic was doing nothing for his nerves. One secret or the other? Which would he prefer to talk about? Neither, and yet here he was. He couldn’t stop the unamused huff at the investigator's question, his mind traveling to the many nights he’d spent having to fight one thing or another. “Yea, almost every night.”
Where did he start? The night that he’d been attacked by a starving zombie and had cemented his own fate to become the undead? Or the night where Caleb had been murdered by a graverobber that then soon turned into his first meal? Maybe he should tell the guy about all the ghosts traipsing through the cemetery on a nightly basis or the vampires he’s found in various crypts with various victims. Not to mention the hellhounds and the kers and the many things that liked to feed on the rotting flesh that could be found all over this cemetery.
But he would never believe Caleb. If anything, he would suspect the zombie even more thinking that his ‘delusions’ might have led to this poor person's demise when really they had come to visit a loved one at the wrong time. “Grave robberies are a big thing around here. Plus, there’s some weird people in this town who like caskets for some reason.” He paused, another sigh escaping as he avoided eye contact and mumbled the last part. “And the dead don’t stay dead for very long.”
How long had he been at this? Looking at him now, Emilio found himself wondering. Had he known about the supernatural before his death, or had that been his introduction into the world? In a lot of ways, Emilio thought of himself as lucky in that regard. He never had to learn of the existence of another world beneath his own — it had always been there. He’d known about the undead before he’d known his name, had known how to kill them before he learned to walk. His introduction into this world hadn’t been one of trauma and death, and that was a good thing no matter how many people seemed to think otherwise.
He listened as the man began to recount some of the ‘strange things’ he’d seen, raising his eyebrows when he started with mundane occurrences like graverobbers and people who ‘enjoyed’ caskets. “Every town has graverobbers,” he pointed out with a shrug. He wondered if the groundskeeper robbed graves himself, if digging up corpses was a good way to ensure a meal for himself. If he was, Emilio saw no issue with it. Better for him to feed off people who were no longer using what he needed than to kill someone for it. If there was an ‘ethical’ way to be undead, it was something like that.
And then, the real answer. Emilio didn’t look particularly surprised by the admission, only offering a small shrug of his shoulder. “You know a lot about that, too?” He knew the groundskeeper had experienced it himself — he could feel his stomach crawling, that old built-in warning reminding him with every breath that the man in front of him had no heartbeat in his chest. But how often did he deal with it from a more detached space? How often were other undead things lurking around this cemetery? Maybe it was one of them who had killed the missing man Emilio was here to find. “You see anything like that the night you found that blood?”
It was a reaction he hadn’t expected, the man not even flinching at the idea that the undead could rise up. No, he’d thought for sure that this investigator would laugh or give him the strangest look but instead he didn’t miss a beat with the next question he wanted to ask. Maybe Caleb should have expected that. Maybe this town was starting to corrupt more people with its supernatural guests than he’d realized. That thought alone was sobering and he had to wonder how this man knew about the things that went bump in the night. Did he get a rude awakening like Caleb? Was he undead too? No, he was too pink in the face for that, his skin a tone that sent that idea far away. So…what was he?
“I know too much about it.” His tone was flat, trying not to give away the disbelief he held at the investigator shrugging off Caleb’s words like that. His nerves were on fire, a current running through them as the anxiety in his gut started to build more and more but he took a breath in and continued. “Ghosts, vampires…zombies.”
Was he stupid? Why was he telling this man all of this? Obviously, he already knew but that didn’t mean that Caleb needed to add more fuel to this fire. It was already blazing, the flames of it licking at his boots and reminding the groundskeeper of how close people were to figuring this whole scenario out. The only thing that was spurring him forward was the idea that honesty was best when he could get away with it. It was the only way to keep things consistent, right? Even if he would never tell the police any of this, maybe it would benefit him if the investigator knew most of the truth if he was careful to omit the rest. “I think the guy came across something that he shouldn’t have, okay? I didn’t witness anything, like I said, I was digging, but it all points to the unnatural things people can come across in this town.”
The groundskeeper seemed to study him a little closer with his reaction. Emilio understood that. Had he not been able to sense the guy, he might have been a little more curious about what he might be, too. He often wondered how much harder shit in this town must be for people who didn’t have some sixth sense helping them out, for the ones who had to take every conversation and unpack it to figure out whether or not their lives were in danger from it. Emilio had to do it himself sometimes, when someone was something other than undead, but to have no tools in the arsenal for that at all? It wasn’t something he envied.
Still, he didn’t particularly want this guy to piece together that he was a slayer. A hunter was a dangerous thing to be, after all. So Emilio offered no explanation as to why he knew the things he knew, provided no clues towards what helped him know it. He studied the man instead, took note of the change in tone when zombies were mentioned. It felt like confirmation; that was what he was, then. Not a vampire, not a mare, not a fury. A zombie. Emilio filed the information away.
“See a lot of them here?” He thought about slipping in something that might clue the guy in that he knew, just to see how he’d react, but… That kind of thing was reckless, and Emilio couldn’t afford that. There were a lot more things working against him than there used to be. The old ache in his leg reminded him as much. The guy came across something that he shouldn’t have. That was an interesting way to put things, wasn’t it? “What is it you think he came across?”
The unflinching response to all of this was a lot. Even as he specified what he meant, the investigator didn’t bat so much as an eyelash and Caleb felt a little more unnerved with each passing moment. The way the man was looking at him now was even more of an indication that the zombie needed to shut his mouth, both studying each other like they were trying to figure out just what classification the other was under. He shouldn’t have said anything, he should have left it at the implication that he saw and knew nothing because now he knew he was being scrutinized. But it was okay, he was definitely not making this mistake again.
“It’s a cemetery, what do you think?” Vague answers, almost hostile in the way he answered them, that was all that the other was going to get now. It was all he was giving after all. “I already told you, I don’t know. It was an assumption. Might even be the wrong one…because I didn’t see anything.” His tone had a finality to it that indicated he was done with this conversation. Or he hoped it did anyway. Caleb wasn’t giving anything else away. If the investigator was good at his job he could find out the rest on his own even if that meant it led right to the groundskeeper.
“I have to get back to work. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” In some ways, it was true. He kind of hoped that this guy would figure him out. Caleb was sick of the lies and the guilt that gnawed away at the very fiber of his being. The mention of the family wanting answers, so many people looking for this person, he was certain that the one he had killed hadn’t been so bad in this life. It only made it all so much worse. Nodding at the guy, he turned to head back to his truck, wanting to put all of this behind him.
The man — the zombie — was uncomfortable. Emilio could sense that just as easily as he could sense the fact that the groundskeeper was undead, could feel it rolling off him in waves. Was he worried Emilio would find out what he was, or was there something else driving this anxiety? Something he’d done? If Emilio were the kind of man who was okay giving away some of the cards he held, he might have copped to knowing what the groundskeeper was just to narrow things down a little, but that wasn’t who he was. It would be dangerous, admitting what he knew. People had killed for less.
“Right,” he agreed, letting his flat tone betray just how little he believed the guy. “You didn’t see anything. Just the groundskeeper, right?” As if anyone in this town was just anything. Everyone in Wicked’s Rest had a secret; Emilio was the sort of person who wanted to know them all.
Offering a tight, clearly false smile, Emilio nodded his head. “Of course. Sorry to hold you up.” He took a half step back, as if ‘freeing’ the groundskeeper from the conversation. Tilting his chin up, he smiled in a way that was a little more genuine, but a lot less friendly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I always find what I’m looking for sooner or later. I’m good at what I do.” He watched the man go back to his truck. Yeah, he thought. This wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other. He was sure of it.
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @ariadnewhitlock
TIME: Mid-September
WHERE: Slumberland
SUMMARY: Caleb and Aria go apple picking at Slumberland. Aria gives him some news that is very upsetting but the two talk it out.
WARNINGS: Talks of Aria's kidnapping but it's mostly just soft.
There was one thing that Caleb always looked forward to during the fall season and that was his annual visit to the apple orchard in Gatlin Fields. He’d made it a tradition in the years since he’d found the place. Sure, Slumberland wasn’t perfect with the random sleeping bodies littering the orchards on occasion and the lack of seasoning as simple as salt but it was one place where he could always enjoy the smell of fresh apples. With his dulled senses he’d never dreamed that he’d be able to enjoy that smell again but the minute he stepped onto the farm the sweet scent always filled him with a happiness he didn’t get very often. It was a nostalgic thing, the longing for normalcy after becoming anything but always satisfied while walking through the rows of trees ripe for the picking. The only thing that could make it better was company and he had the best person joining him this year.
Aria had been in his life since she was born, her father having been a very important person to him, and he often made it a point to spend time with her when he could. Especially after what they’d thought was her death almost a year ago. When she’d agreed and had even been excited to head to the orchard with Caleb, the zombie had been elated. He hadn’t seen her outside of the hardware store in a month at least and his enthusiasm for the trip was definitely showing, a rare sight for anyone when it concerned him.
“How many apples are we picking today?” They were walking through a row of the trees, a basket in his hands while they searched for the best place to start. “Do you want to make anything with them or is this trip all for my benefit?” Questioning eyes cut over to the blonde, accompanied by a gentle smile. Caleb was joking with her but in the back of his mind he did wonder whether she truly wanted to be here. It never went away, that nagging voice, and always made him question even the simplest of things.
She’d known Caleb from the time that she was born, because he’d known her parents since they were kids, or at least since they were teenagers, and given that Ariadne had been born when her parents were only just about twenty, Caleb had been in their lives then, and remained there to this day. She supposed that it made sense – her parents weren’t the sort to have superficial friendships, which was a trait she’d liked to think they’d passed on to her (though they’d both had far more friends in school than she had).
“As many as I can get, I think.” Ariadne nodded. “Can we get more than one bag? And oh, I want to make stuff – cookies or crumble or any sort of thing. With you, maybe? Or with my partner. I’m still not too much of a good cook. Baker. Whatever.” She offered him a small smile, too, hoping he’d know that she meant what she said. That she really loved hanging out with him whenever she could, however much she could. “Also, we have go get cider donuts, right? Lots of them. They smell the best and taste the best.”
Her excitement made him smile, Caleb truly happy to hear that she wanted to be there. He worried about Aria a lot these days and just wanted to be there in case she needed him. He'd had his person to rely on while growing up and even though her parents were nothing like his foster parents had been he knew that sometimes it was easier to talk to someone who wasn't...well, a guardian. ”We can do as many bags as you want. I'd be happy to get twenty if that's where you'd like to land.“ Humor laced his tone, only because he didn't think she'd really want that much, but he was willing to go that far if she did.
The suggestion for them to cook together had his smile slipping a little. Caleb had loved to cook and bake when he was alive but it was a little hard to do when he couldn't actually taste much to be able to get a feel for how the dish was going. It was possible, of course, but harder. She didn't need to know that though. ”Yea, we could definitely work on something. I think my specialty is pie, though. Maybe your partner knows the crumble better? They're really good at baking, right?” He hadn't actually met Aria's partner but he'd heard a little about them from the blonde. “Or am I making that up?”
Stopping under one of the apple trees, Caleb looked up at the low hanging fruit, taking one in his hand but leaving it on the branch. “ Think this tree looks pretty good, what about you? Think the apples are ripe enough?” He plucked the one in his hand from the tree to hold out to her before he answered her question. “Oh, no contest. Can't leave here without the donuts. Maybe we can get a few boxes and they can last a little bit without getting stale on us.”
“I do dance, not weightlifting, Caleb,” Ariadne giggled. It was easy to be her happier self around people like Caleb and Oliver, people who’d known her from the time she was absolutely tiny. So even if some other things felt especially heavy right now, going apple picking with Caleb felt light and good. “So I don’t think I could even hope to carry twenty bags. Plus, that might mean less for others, and I don’t want to take away from what others want or need.” She never did.
Ariadne looked over to him, watching him carefully. “Pie’s good, and yeah – they’re really good at literally everything. They’re actually the best.” She glanced down at the ground, smile quickly spreading across her features. “You’re not making that up. They can cook and bake and – yeah. You should meet them sometime. I think you’d like them a lot. If you like me, which I think you do, they’re like, the literal best ever, better than I could ever be, so…” she neglected to point out that part of what made Wynne so much better than her was the fact that they weren’t undead and hadn’t killed somebody.
Caleb didn’t need to know that, though.
“I think those look perfect! I am always tempted to eat some of the apples on the way, even though I guess you’re technically not supposed to.” Ariadne grabbed an apple of her own, carefully placing it into a bag. “Good. Yes, I am in support of that. Mom and dad said I should bring some home to them, so we’ve gotta get boxes!”
”Oh, excuse me, how could I forget?“ Laughing along with her, Caleb brought a hand up to playfully tap his forehead. ”Twenty is out of the question, gotcha. You just let me know when you're ready to stop then.“ Again, he had to smile at Aria's words. She had always been such a caring person which was something he very much admired about the girl. Not everyone got to have that in their lives so he considered anyone who knew her to be lucky. Of course, with who her parents were, he shouldn't have been surprised. ”The orchards look pretty bountiful this year. But I can see your point.“
Watching her talk about her partner like that, it warmed him. Caleb was so glad that Aria had someone to feel so passionate about, someone she cared for unconditionally. From the way she talked about them he could tell that they cared for Aria just as much. ”Everything, huh? And they haven't made you apple cider donuts yet? I'm gonna have to get onto them.“ Trying his best to look stern, he almost turned his head when a smile pulled at his lips. He never was good at pretending, usually wearing his heart on his sleeve which got him in trouble often. As he reached up to pick another apple, he raised an eyebrow at her words. ”Wait, you only think I like you? You know you're like family to me, right? I love you, don't forget that.“ Another apple was added to the bag before he looked over at her. ”So I'm sure I'll love them too. They sound just as amazing as you are.“
He made note of her parents wanting some of the donuts, keeping it in the back of his mind so he didn't forget on their way out. ”Consider it done. And you should eat one, if you want, I don't think they're going to complain about one apple.“ Caleb reached for a higher branch, trying to keep the lower ones for her to get, before he looked over at her again. The zombie grew a little more somber before he asked his next question. ”How have you been lately? I know you have Wynne and all but everything else is good, right?“
“Yes, I know that when I look like how I look, it’s very confusing about whether or not I’m a dancer or a weight lifter.” Ariadne grinned. “I’ll let you know so long as you also let me know if you’re all done and ready to stop.” Because she certainly didn’t want him to overdo anything on her account. She might have been a monster now, but that didn’t make her a spoiled brat. “Then we’ll just have to come back!” She looked out at the other trees, labeled with different species of apple, most all of which she wanted to try and get.
She offered Caleb a shrug. “In fairness, we haven’t been together during the fall yet, since we’ve only been dating since July, and I just like to see all the sorts of things that they come up with, and everything they do is good, so…” Ariadne knew Caleb was joking around, but she couldn’t help but defend Wynne at any possible sight of them not appearing to be totally wonderful. Again, she was fully aware of the joking nature of Caleb’s reply, but she also maybe wanted more excuses to talk about just how wonderful Wynne was. “You’re like family to me too. Super cool uncle status or something, I figure. Which is a very good role to have. At least I say so. They are more amazing than I am, and I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Wynne deserved to know as many good people as possible.
“Okay, okay.” She grabbed another apple off one of the trees – Macoun – and took a bite into it. “Yeah, that’s worth it. I’m still giving them an extra dollar when we get back to the store, though, probably.” His next question made Ariadne’s stomach turn, briefly. “Uh.” She began. “Well… how much have my parents told you about what happened to me recently? Because I was, well, uh, kidnapped kind of for a time but then I’m all better now.”
”Just can't help the confusion, look at those arms. Arms of steel. In fact, why aren't you holding this?” Caleb indicated the bag in hand holding all of the apples they'd picked so far before moving it out of her reach so she didn't get the idea to try and take it from him. He was joking but he knew her well enough that she'd most likely feel bad for letting him hold onto it. “I promise, if I'm ready I'll let you know.” Not likely. He could be out here all night for all he cared, it wasn't like he slept. “Two trips to Slumberland this year? You won't hear me saying no, this is one of my favorite places. You know I fell asleep out here once? Woke up very confused but I guess I just tired myself out.”
Caleb shot Aria a knowing look, aware of what she was doing. He didn't blame her one bit, it was always nice to be able to gush about a person that was cared for and she could go on as much as she pleased. He only cared that Aria was happy. “Alright, alright, I'll give you that. But you have to bring me one of these crumbles if they make them, yea? If only to prove how good they are at baking.” He wouldn't admit it but hearing Aria call him an uncle type was very uplifting. Sure, he's always considered her and her family like his own but he'd never really believed they reciprocated that thought. Confirmation was nice even if he’d continue to question it. “I don't know about more amazing, Aria, but I'll maybe consider an equal amount.”
'Kidnapped.' As soon as he'd heard the word the bag of apples slipped from his hand and he turned to fully face her. Her parents hadn't said anything to him but he'd been really busy lately and hadn't had much time to stop and chat. “I'm sorry, what? What do you mean you were kidnapped? What happened?” And who did it? Who would want to harm someone as sweet as Aria? It was like hearing about her death all over again, the worry sprouting in Caleb’s chest and spreading to overtake anything else.
“I don’t think —” she twisted her lips around briefly, wanting to apologize before Caleb moved the bags out of her reach and she realized, more fully, that he was joking. Which, of course he was, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t still want to help him. Ariadne looked over to him, “okay, deal, but you have to actually really let me know, if you do want me to carry them. Maybe I can see if I can go on pointe in boots in the middle of an apple orchard. I won’t, obviously, that’s not proper form, but I wonder if I could…” Her face brightened again at his question. “I mean, maaaybe. We’ll have to see. Also no, I didn’t know that you’d fallen asleep here. That sounds like a good place to nap, though.” Not that she could do that anymore. Which she wasn’t going to focus on. Or was, at least, going to try to not focus on.
Ariadne nodded enthusiastically at his comment. “Yeah, yeah, for sure. You should meet them sometime, though. They’re super awesome, which I said, and … yeah. I know I also said already that you have to meet them, but I can’t have them not knowing my favorite people in town.” Especially given how Wynne had wound up meeting her parents. She’d prefer that they met other people under nicer circumstances. “I’ll let you try some of the crumble, I promise I won’t eat it all. And fine, equal amount, but you only get to say that ‘cause you’re you.”
Her expression dropped at his next comments. “I – yeah. I –” she still hated talking about it. Never wouldn’t hate that, she supposed. “I was out walking at night and a guy with a beard grabbed me and locked me in his van and tried to uh, starve me to death. ‘Cause of how I don’t eat normal food always anymore. So he kept me in the van and then I got rescued but he wanted me to die again, I guess, and he was really really mean and also bad at science.” Ariadne looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“As impressive as that would be, let's not break an ankle today. It still hurts even if it heals pretty quickly. Don’t worry though, I’ve got this.” He said it matter of factly, not wanting Aria to think she needed to lift a finger to help because she didn’t. Even if they got multiple bags, Caleb would insist on carrying it all himself anyway. “The nap was so good that I ended up with smushed apple all over me. I guess I rolled over a few times in my sleep but never realized I was crushing the ones I’d already picked. It was a sight to see, that’s for sure.” The looks he had gotten while heading to the bathroom to clean up were humiliating at the time but he could look back and laugh at them without wanting to completely bury his head in the sand now.
“Just let me know when you’d like to do a meet up and I’ll be there…if I’m not working. You know I work odd hours sometimes. You like them, I’m sure I will like them as well.” Again, a warmth bloomed in his chest at her words and Caleb gave her a faint smile. “I’m holding you to that promise. If you eat it all you’re gonna owe me big time.”
Starve her to death…because she had to feed on nightmares or because she was technically already dead. It wasn’t like Aria hurt anybody, not intentionally anyway. She was so sweet to everyone she came across, too soft for the world, and the situation only reminded him of his childhood. A bully picking on their prey didn’t deserve to be breathing and yet the two of them were the ones no longer requiring air in their lungs. “You don’t have to apologize, Ariadne.” Something he liked to remind her of. He never required an apology from her, one had never actually been warranted. Caleb ran a hand through his messy curls, rage starting to build to join his concern. “Did you happen to catch his name? The guy with the beard? And do your parents know about this?”
“Fine, fine, no broken ankles, I swear.” Ariadne held her hand up. “Only because I love you.” Like an uncle of sorts, or some cool older brother. Though maybe it was more fair to say uncle, given that he was friends with her parents, and even if they were on the younger end of parent-age, uncle was better. He was her Caleb. That was that. It was simple, and he’d known her when she was a toddler, and she felt safe around him, and that was what mattered most, ultimately.
“Yes! I will, absolutely! I know you work odd hours, but that’s fine, we’ll make sure that it works. That much I certainly have faith in us for. Or in. Or whatever – point is, I trust you and me to make stuff work, because you’re important to me.” She offered a small smile, similar to the one’s she’d given him when he’d come over to her house and she was still shy about talking to people. Not that she wasn’t shy now, but she wasn’t shy with him. “You should hold me to that promise! I like keeping promises, and I wouldn’t lie to you! I mean, I wouldn’t lie at all, or I’d try not to, but especially not to you.”
She wanted to cry. “Okay, okay, if you say so.” Her gaze focused on one of the further apple trees. “I – my parents know I disappeared, yeah, but not all the specifics because they’re still hazy on… what I do, how I do it. I – he never told me his name.” Inge had told her, after, but her head was spinning right now. She didn’t want Caleb to get hurt. To be responsible for his death. “He’s – he’s the meanest man I’ve ever met, ever.”
“I love you too, kiddo.” The urge to reach out and ruffle her hair like he had done when she was younger was strong but Caleb resisted. She wasn’t a little girl anymore and he was sure that Aria wouldn’t appreciate being treated like one. Nevermind calling her ‘kiddo'. He’d never stop with the affectionate nickname unless she really started to have issues with it. It wasn’t meant to be derogatory in any way, in fact he only started calling her that because he had always been awkward around children and it had stuck.
Even through his anger at what she was telling him with the kidnapping, he couldn’t help the adoration that joined the emotion at her little rambling. She certainly did have a way of making him feel like he was worth having around. “Trust me, I will make it work. I can’t wait to meet the person that puts that smile on your face.”
It seemed that challenges like this would start popping up for the rest of their lives. The two of them were stuck at the age they were when they died but her parents were still aging forward and Caleb was more than willing to keep an eye on her for as long as he lived. He did hate lying to them about things like this but it was choice whether she told them or not, he wouldn’t betray that trust. But it did make him want to take on their role in her life, be a protector, even if the danger was long gone. “Aria, if you ever see him again let me know, okay?” What he would do, he didn’t know, but he wanted to do something. Anyone willing to hurt her deserved a fate worse than death. After all, you could live when you weren’t breathing and that wasn’t enough for whoever had done this to her.
But Caleb could also see that this was upsetting her and he didn’t want to taint their outing together even more. He was willing to drop this for the sake of having a good time. “Which apples did you want to go to next? I think we have enough of this kind.”
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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @gossipsnake
TIME: Early August, directly after this thread.
WHERE: Nichol's Funeral Home Cemetery
SUMMARY: Anita comes across Caleb in a compromising position. Much to Caleb's surprise, the lamia is more amused with him than anything. The two strike a deal.
WARNINGS: Lots of murder talk, brain talk but not necessarily surgical or anything.
Why were people so afraid of cemeteries at night? Was it perhaps simply because they had seen too many scary movies where they were told to be afraid? The greatest threats facing humans did not lie underneath or behind tombstones. No, after themselves, humans greatest threat was those above them on the food chain. And despite what their beloved monster movies told them, those threats were not limited to graveyards.
Tonight, however, there was such a threat luring about in one of the local graveyards. But Anita was not on the prowl for a meal; she had her sights set on a much smaller treasure - the beautiful cornucopia of graveyard bugs. Back home in her greenhouse, Anita had a large array of decaying specimens being fed on by a variety of native beetles and their larvae. While people typically did not allow themselves to decompose naturally with the soil in graveyards it was still quite rich.
Keeping up with the obituaries, which was becoming quite impossible in this town, Anita saw that there would be a funeral the next morning. She knew enough to know that meant a grave had been dug the night before and fresh soil would have been piled up for her to sift through. She planned on doing just that as she walked through the grounds towards the expected open grave. But as she approached, she heard the distinctive till of shovel and dirt. That didn’t seem right, the grave should have been dug hours ago. Making sure to be quiet and not give herself away, she approached the sounds cautiously, unsure what she had come across.
He should have started on burying this body sooner, listened to the voice in his head telling him to hurry, but Caleb had gotten lost in the whole deserving nice words and a proper burial thing. After kicking the body into the grave the zombie had felt so bad about it that he was now redigging the hole to try and do things properly. No throwing someone in the grave like they didn’t matter, no crying from someone who didn’t even know them, just a proper little funeral with music playing from his phone. They were dead though, who cared? Apparently, he did.
“You’re so stupid…” The words mumbled under his breath would have been lost had he been anywhere else but the silence that the dead brought with them revealed every syllable, every self deprecating comment he was saying allowed. It was spurring his movements forward, making his limbs work faster as anger started to build within him. “Why the hell do you care so much? Why can’t you let it go? Just let it freaking go, Caleb.”
And yet he was still redigging the grave for the second time that night, sifting the soil more and more. The thud of the shovel hitting the casket was the first clue that the body was just under this layer and he used the edge of it to sift through until he found one of the person’s arms. Caleb stood to his full height, moving to set the shovel off to the side but froze when he saw a woman standing above him. Oh, curse his damn hearing. Of course he would uncover the extra body just before realizing someone else was there. Why wouldn’t that be a thing?
“Um…it’s not what it looks like.”
As she crept closer to the digging noise, Anita wasn’t entirely sure what she would be interrupting. Was this some strange grave robber, looking for jewels tossed into the casket of some old lady? Or was this perhaps someone trying to cover their tracks. All of the possibilities she was considering tended to skew towards danger. She didn’t necessarily mind that, might make the evening far more interesting than she expected it to be.
“Oh, really? So you aren’t digging up the grave of someone who has clearly already been buried?” His reasoning for doing so remained a mystery, one she was eager to solve. Anita didn’t know how long he had been out there but the few swings of the shovel that she had seen tended to suggest this wasn’t his first rodeo. There was a slightly disheveled look to the man as she peered down at him but she couldn’t tell if that was his usual demeanor or if it was a byproduct of the digging.
“If it’s not what it looks like, then please, educate me as to what it is I’m looking at here.” He was lucky, really, that she was the one who stumbled upon him. Others may have jumped to conclusions, involved the authorities, or simply run away screaming. Anita was at least willing to listen.
“...No?” Technically that wasn’t the truth because it wasn’t their grave, it was Mrs. Darcy’s. The zombie wracked his brain for any possible explanation that could dissuade her into believing that he was just doing his job but the body wasn’t even in a casket so she’d most likely see right through that lie. How did he get out of this? His mind was racing, Caleb staying silent as every possible way this conversation could go ran through it. In the end, he could not think of a way to make her believe any lies that alluded to his innocence so he started to try and prepare for the pleading that was about to come.
“Technically it’s not their grave…It’s Mrs. Darcy’s. I just buried them with her earlier.” His cooler was still sitting on the side of the grave since he had no sense to take it back to his truck after the other person had come along. He’d been so worried about hiding the body that the other evidence of his transgressions was still laying out clear as day. His eyes ran over it before he looked back up at the woman. “Look, you can go to the cops, but I really don’t think you should. It might not be good for anybody. Just…let me explain, I guess.”
Would this be the one of the first people to finally know what he was? There was only one other at the time, someone who had the same undead affliction as him which made it so much easier to tell her. As much as he didn’t want to tell a complete stranger that he was only doing this to keep people safe he had the inkling that they wouldn’t believe him. Not unless they could understand Caleb’s situation. There was no way of knowing if she would but she hadn’t run yet, hadn’t made a fuss, all she wanted was his reasonings for doing what he was doing.
“Um…I’m trying to feed myself.” He wouldn’t look at her, his eyes going to the dirt and the arm sticking out of it. “And others. But when I was, you know, doing that, someone came along and saw…” Caleb nodded towards the cooler that held the brain of Mrs. Darcy before he continued. “One thing led to another and…they didn’t have a very good time.” How crazy did this person think he was? If they had no clue about the supernatural in this town then he was screwed.
The long silence after his half-hearted no was almost entertaining to Anita. Over the years she had learned how to be quick with her lies, staying ahead of any allegations of impropriety by diverting attention elsewhere. This grave digging possible murderer didn’t have any of that savvy. It therefore shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was when he admitted to having buried the corpse in someone else's grave. Her mouth opened slightly as her thick eyebrows raised up in surprise, “Oh…”
Anita’s eyes followed his as they looked around the gravesite. There was so much going on, creating quite a long list of options as to what this man was up to. “Is that a threat?” She snapped instinctively at his comment that calling the cops wouldn’t be good for anyone. It didn’t matter to her that she had no intention of calling anyone, let alone the cops. “Fine. Explain.” Squatting down so that she could get a better look at the man and the dead body, Anita began to wonder if this man was a run-of-the-mill human killer or if there was more going on.
Her question, seemingly, was quickly answered as he began to explain. Trying to feed himself and others. It was interesting, given how obviously sloppy his techniques were. Whatever he was - probably undead, likely a zombie given the obvious brain in the cooler - he seemed to be new at it. If he was feeding others, did that make him the most experienced in food retrieval? That would be sad if it were true.
Feeling the slightest pang of compassion for the non-human, Anita decided not to have a bit of fun with the situation. Instead she opted to at the very least be non combative. Whether or not she elected to be helpful was yet to be determined. “You’re making an awful big mess. Not a good look if you’ve got others relying on you for food.” She dropped down, sitting on the edge of the grave and letting her legs dangle over the edge. “I know everyone thinks that getting rid of a body in another grave is such a genius idea… but there are actually much more effective ways to do it.”
“Definitely not a threat, at least not towards you anyway.” No, he was worried about what might happen if he was locked up for a long period of time, certain that cops didn’t know anything about zombies roaming around here. They were bigger morons than Caleb was. “More of a warning. Consequences of not having the right food suck and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Even the police.” It was bad enough that he’d murdered two people in his lifetime, the first being someone he tried not to blame himself for. The guy had killed him first, anyway. But this person…this person hadn’t deserved it at all and the guilt that came with it was already eating him alive. Or, well, dead.
“I mean, I thought it was pretty brilliant considering how convenient it is-” As soon as he realized what she’d said, Caleb cut himself off, his head snapping up. “Wait, what?” He hadn’t even noticed how unnormal this conversation was, used to being chastised for any actions he took throughout his life, but after it had really hit him he was stunned. Was this woman really not freaking out after finding him with a dead body that clearly didn’t belong there and an open cooler with a brain? Who the hell was she?
“I’m sorry are you…are you trying to give me tips on how to cover up a body?” Ever since he’d started working for this funeral home he’d encountered such strange things in the cemetery but he’d never had anyone talk about this so nonchalantly before. Why was he surprised though? This town was crawling with people who needed his services, crawling with other people who needed special diets. He wouldn’t be surprised if Wicked’s Rest was the murder capital of the United States in a few years time.
There were many questions that came with this realization. What was she? How many people had she actually killed? Did she enjoy it or did every single murder weigh on her mind like Caleb? His wide eyes bore into her before acceptance started to kick in and he nodded slowly. “Okay, so what are you suggesting then?”
It was almost cute how stunned the kid seemed to be when he seemed to realize that he wasn’t the only killer in the cemetery. Had she not stumbled upon him in such a compromised state she might not have been so forthcoming with the conversation, but this was just too delicious to pass up. “Yeah, I am. Cause you so obviously need them.” Anita looked down at him and the dead body and shrugged softly. “Sure, this isn’t a bad place to get rid of your leftovers. Better than tossing the corpse in the ocean or digging a grave in the forest - but is it the best option? No.”
Gesturing from the shovel he was holding towards the mound of dirt beside where she was sitting, Anita continued, “How often do you have to eat? And how often are you willing to spend your nights digging paupers graves? Surely you must have thought about whether all of that physical work is worth it. I know your kind doesn’t tire out but … anyone could stumble upon you in the hours it takes to do all this.”
As she looked around Anita noticed a carrion beetle crawling in the freshly dug grave. She picked it up in her hand, she smirked a bit at the apt analogy that the earth had handed her. “One thing that humans are so well known for is how much waste they create. No other ecosystem of creatures wastes so much of what is provided to them.” In a slow action so that he could see what she was doing, Anita popped the beetle in her mouth and ate it. “Don’t you think just burying all this meat is … a bit wasteful?”
It was surreal, really. Standing in the middle of a grave where Caleb was hiding a body while a woman he’d never met was trying to tell him how to do a better job seemed like it was straight from a bad B grade movie and yet this was his real life. He wanted to say he’d really fallen far from grace but he’d never really been that high up in the first place. Still, she didn’t have the full picture either. She didn’t know how convenient this actually was for him and she wasn’t aware that this part of the kill was also part of his daily job. For some reason he felt like defending his way of…disposal but he wasn’t sure if that was the best idea until he watched her eat a beetle to really drive the point she was making. Most people would have cringed or made a face but he’d lived on animal brains for a few months before moving on to the humans his body had so craved. Who was he to judge?
“Actually…this is my normal job. I work for the cemetery so I’m always digging graves. Normally I have an excavator handy but I didn’t want my boss to know I’d taken it out tonight.” He was still out in the open with nothing but a shovel that night, and she had walked into the situation by chance, so he saw her point. He looked down at the arm that was sticking out of the dirt again and sighed. “On a good week, I only need one brain. That’s excluding any weeks that I get hurt. But…I try to take care of others too so I’ve been taking more than I need.”
The woman was right. Burying the bodies was a waste. Caleb knew so many zombies that had accepted what they were and loved different parts of the body. Yes, the brains were the best for their hunger, but some had preferences for their meals between those brains. It had always seemed so crude to him but maybe it was time to go full blown with this business instead of half-assing everything. And apparently zombies weren’t the only ones who needed sustenance around here. “Do you…are you wanting the rest of this body after I take the brain? The brain in the cooler is from the person this grave actually belongs to.” Was he making a business deal right now? In the middle of this chaos?
Oh that was quite curious, Anita thought. A zombie working at a cemetery. She wondered which came first, the transformation or the job. Though, given how new he seemed at the zombie thing and how adept he seemed at digging graves… maybe he had just always been drawn to death. “Interesting. Do you not have access to an incinerator then? Or do you only deal with the stiffs people want to bury, not burn at your job?”
“Others? Why can they not fend for themselves?” It wasn’t uncommon, she understood, for certain species to flock together. After all back home in Mexico, Anita’s family lived as a unified lamia nest. They looked after their own and made sure that the family thrived. “Surely one brain doesn’t feed you all.”
The proposal was, practically, a natural progression of the implication Anita had been making but it wasn’t exactly the one she had been setting up. Playing up a fake air of offense, Anita placed her hand to her chest, “Do I look like the kind of woman who eats someone’s sloppy seconds? I don’t do clean up.” She greatly preferred her meals to be very warm, very live, and a bit terrified when she sank her fangs into them. “I was just saying there are other ways. There are some people who might enjoy what you’re leaving to the bugs. Some people who don’t have the time, skill, or patience to hunt for themselves.” She paused, something in her deciding to be generous. “Or maybe the other way around. I don’t always need the heads, anyway.”
Caleb cleared his throat before answering her question, glad that he could say it out loud without the tears welling up in his eyes again. That would have been more embarrassing than being caught in the act of a burial. “This is…my first murder. I’ve always dealt with the bodies that come into the morgue when the person is already long gone over killing someone who still has time.” The idea was a good one, one that he would keep in the back of his mind if he didn’t have any way of disposing of any future bodies, but he didn’t really want this happening again. “And I don’t plan to do anymore murdering either. This was an accident that shouldn’t have happened.”
Leaning back against the other side of the grave, the zombie decided to settle in. It seemed like this was going to be a long conversation. She wanted to understand his methods, where he was coming from, and if he were being honest, it felt good to talk about it with somebody. He wasn’t bottling it up anymore, and with the floodgates of truth already opened he was willing to give so much more despite something telling him that he should still be cautious. “It’s more of a business deal than anything. I saw the opportunity to make extra funds on the side and I went for it. But I do also like to believe that I’m helping the community as a whole while doing this. If zombies don’t get fed…well, could you imagine the chaos?”
He actually smirked with her next question. It was a little worrisome that the panic he’d held all night was starting to melt away enough for Caleb to become amused and yet there he was, ready to laugh at the thoughts going through his mind. “I get more than one brain a week…you know where we live right? As sad as it is to say, bodies flood to the funeral home on a daily basis almost.”
Why is it that he felt bad for offending someone who he knew ate human flesh? Yes, he did the same, but he hated himself for it so why didn’t he hate anyone else who did it as well? Especially when they preferred them live? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know you preferred them live.” Caleb hung his head, almost as if wounded, and started to stare at the lifeless arm as punishment to his own psyche. He was almost amazed at how quickly he’d come to want this person’s approval. The proposal had him looking up in surprise again, the idea making the zombie feel torn. Did he want to encourage actually murdering people? Was he really in a position to turn down the brains of those who were going to still end up dead anyway? “...What do you want in return?”
“Your first murder? How quaint.” It was such an adorable thought that Anita smirked a bit. She didn’t even think she could recall her first murder. Her attention turned back to the situation at hand when the zombie expressed a desire to not commit further murders - a concept that was so foreign it practically didn’t even make sense to her. “So you accidently killed this man for his brain?” Moreso due to self-preservation than anything else, she was beginning to feel slightly suspicious of them. She did not understand his motivations and therefore could not trust her instincts.
Her suspicions eased a bit when he called his fellow brain eaters his community - at least he wasn’t one of those people who likened themselves to humanity more than their own species. “How did you meet your community? Is the one who turned you part of that group?” To Anita, that was not an invasive question because she couldn’t think of why anyone would not want to talk about the miracle of ridding oneself of their humanity. “As much as I agree that we all need to eat…I’ve never turned my nose up at a bit of chaos either.”
His smile as they continued talking gave her a bit more hope. People who couldn’t see some kind of joy in eating weren’t people Anita generally interacted with. “So these other zombies, they pay you to deliver them brains?” When he hung his head, Anita couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed because of her pretend offense or if it was because he felt some type of way about the idea of her consuming such fresh meals. “Have you ever tried a nice fresh brain?”
It was evident that he was business-minded when he asked what Anita would want in return for delivery of some fresh juicy substantia grisea. The question seemed to come in spite of his internal concerns rather than out of a genuine curiosity. “I don’t know. I don’t mean to offend, but I doubt there is much you have that I would want.” Maybe simply having a Zombie who worked at the funeral home owe her a favor would be a good enough reward. “We can call it a favor, perhaps. An I-O-U.”
“No…I was digging up Mrs. Darcy for her brain when the person came along and saw me…just like you did. I didn’t actually mean to kill them, I just wanted to stop them but their head hit another marker when I pushed them.” It sounded so pathetic when Caleb said it out loud. What kind of zombie was he? Not a good one, that’s for sure. “Then I buried him to hide the body but forgot I could use his brain and then started to dig him up again.” And that just made it so much worse. He was a loser even in the afterlife, wasn’t he?
That was the question, wasn’t it? The one who made it possible to be what he was, the person who attacked him when he was doing maintenance in the morgue…the one he hadn’t been able to find since. Caleb hadn’t gotten a good look at his face since he was so close to death so he’d never been able to recognize if he was serving them brains or not. “I was getting so many brains I wasn’t able to eat them all before they got gross in the freezer so I figured I could help out others. Anytime I met a zombie I would offer to sell them some. Then they started recommending friends and it just snowballed from there. I don’t know who made me what I am, I never got a good look that night. We’re quick when we’re hungry.”
The flood of information was really flowing. He had never realized how hard it was not to talk about this with someone before now. Everything was spilling out before he could even think about it and it felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders got lighter and lighter with each word. Knowing that she was in for chaos didn’t even deter him. “Exactly. It’s like Uber for the dead. I want to make life easier for myself if I’m going to do this. I’m the one taking most of the risk.”
That was the first question to really get under his skin though whether that was because he was offended or because his body was having some sort of reaction to the memory was yet to be seen. He’d had fresh brains once. “So, remember when I said this was my first murder? Technically not true but I don’t count the first one because he murdered me first. Zombies can go years with the infection without turning but once they die they become one. I was killed by a graverobber with my own shovel. So when I woke up in my zombie state and killed him for his brain I didn’t feel bad afterwards.” That was a lie and Caleb knew it. He’d felt awful afterwards but years of telling himself otherwise had done the trick. “So, yea, I’ve had them fresh once.”
That was fair. He wasn’t rich, couldn’t offer her the brains that she obviously didn’t need, and he had no supernatural abilities until he was in a frenzied state so what could he really offer? An owed favor wasn’t what he’d expected and he couldn’t say it didn’t make him nervous. Caleb didn’t know what she was and she’d already admitted to fresh kills being her preference so she didn’t have any qualms about hurting people. He might come to regret it later but he found himself answering with three words. “It’s a deal.”
Oh he was a curious little zombie, that was for sure. Anita found it so interesting how willing he was to just keep talking, keep telling her things that other beings would keep locked away tight. Sure, she had established some good faith between them - but he clearly wasn’t concerned enough about those who might be in the know that would want to hurt him. All she had done was speak words to him and seemed to earn a fair amount of trust. Through the course of the conversation, she had been able to learn far more about him than she personally would have given away to a stranger in a graveyard. Notably, she didn’t give away nearly as much to him.
“Sorry you were murdered. But, hey! Look at you now.” Some in the non-human community felt a kinship with all who lacked humanity, but Anita was usually a bit more exclusive with where she placed her alliances. This gravedigging zombie was interesting, however, and while she certainly did not trust him she was intrigued. “It’s a brutal world out here. Sounds like it’s definitely time to rethink how often you’re out here digging and un-digging graves given all the murders that keep happening when you do,” she smirked as her eyes widened a bit, playing up the pretend drama of the situation. “Just thankful you didn’t try to murder me. For your sake.”
Jumping up from where she was sitting and dusting the dirt off of her backside Anita looked back down into the partially dug up grave, “Well alright. You got a name, mijo?” She asked as she pulled out a business card from her wallet, which had been tucked away in her jacket pocket. She had no intention of going out of her way to procure food for him but Anita was curious about just how mutually beneficial this relationship might be able to become. Tossing the card, which only had a phone number printed on it, Anita smirked down at him. “Give me a call when you’re feeling peckish.”
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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.
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PARTIES: @loftylockjaw and @dirtwatchman
TIMING: Early January
LOCATION: Grimm Family Lodge
SUMMARY: Wyatt asks Caleb to go to the Grimm Family Lodge with him for a weekend away together. When Caleb realizes how cold Wyatt is and why the two come up with a plan to try and get him warmed up. They end up in the mountains and come across something neither of them was expecting.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
He’d certainly been surprised when Wyatt had invited him on a weekend getaway to the Grimm Family Lodge and it had probably taken him way too long to give the man an answer. But it wasn’t like they were far away from home if something happened and now that Wyatt knew his secret the zombie was more comfortable bringing…provisions along to make sure he was well fed so Caleb had eventually given a yes. Even if he was nervous as hell. Why, he wasn’t sure. Wyatt had been nothing but accepting of him, no heartbeat and all, and no matter how awkward he was the lamia had never been put off by it. Still, a trip was an interesting turn of events after they’d learned what they had about each other.
The lodge was nice though, certainly nicer than anywhere he had ever stayed before. “How did you swing reservations for this place?” He placed his bag on the bed as he asked, looking around the place cautiously as if one wrong move would be the end of this. By what means, he wasn’t sure. Even for someone who hadn’t been in town long, Caleb wouldn’t be surprised if the charmer had smooth talked his way in.
Looking over at the gator, his brows furrowed with concern. Caleb knew he couldn’t feel the cold anymore and, yes, Wyatt was from the south, but he seemed off. “Are you okay? I can get the fireplace going if you need it.”
“Oh, y’know… met a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy… made some good impressions. The usual.” Wyatt laughed. Truthfully, there’d been a cancellation, and the lamia had wormed his way to the top of the waiting list with methods he’d be a little less willing to admit to Caleb—seeing as how this had been before their dinner date. Even though he wasn’t a fan of the cold, Wyatt was very interested in trying out the local experiences, and figured he could just bundle up, quit being a baby, and be fine. Which would have been true, had he not had a run in with that fucking mobile snowman. Whatever infernal magic had given that thing movement had also apparently bestowed it with the ability to freeze people from the inside out, so to speak. Wyatt had never felt so cold, but this little getaway was months in the making, and he wasn’t going to back out now.
Besides, with the promise of company, he figured it’d be all the better! Only he couldn’t stop shivering, even with the thick sweater and thermal socks he was wearing. Caleb’s offer had him shaking his head though, and he tried to shrug off the outward manifestations of his cold, cold bones.
“No, I’m—” Why was he lying? What purpose did that even serve? He stopped, closed his eyes, and dropped his bag on the foot of the bed. “Well, okay. So there was this… don’t laugh… I saw this fuckin’ weird snowman outside my place that I hadn’t put there, right? So I went up to see what the deal was, and it… I dunno, it did somethin’ to me. Ain’t been able to get warm since. The fuckin’ thing was alive and it ran off into the woods after I took off one of its arms, towards the mountains.” He shrugged, annoyed by how tense being perpetually cold made him feel. “I’m… hopin’ it’ll pass with the season, at least. Maybe when the damn thing melts in spring, wherever the hell it got off to. That said… if we’re goin’ outside, I am absolutely takin’ precautions along. Of the wireless blow dryer and lighter-plus-hairspray variety.”
“Of course you did.” Joining Wyatt in laughter, his head shook a little. Sometimes he wondered why someone like Wyatt would even glance twice at someone like Caleb, the polar opposite of who he was. But he wasn’t complaining, not in the least. As Wyatt stopped himself and continued with his explanation, his bright smile dipped slightly. “A snowman?” Hadn’t he heard about people mentioning those around town? Was that what they did? Tortured people by giving them the chill that they lived with? For a split second, he considered how weird it was to talk about a sentient snowman but he waved it off quickly, knowing it could have been worse.
“So…you’re perpetually cold and you shack up with the dead guy?” The playful quip wasn’t to make fun of the other, Caleb just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore, it was a feeling he hadn’t quite understood in a few years so Wyatt’s misery was a little foreign. He almost considered wrapping the lamia in his arms but he knew it could have made the other’s situation that much worse so he stayed where he was. “Why am I not surprised that this town can’t even have a normal snowman?”
The idea of the hairdryer did make him laugh again but after really thinking it over the zombie was wondering if that would help. Why should Wyatt have to suffer if there was something Caleb could be good for? “Do you think melting your arch nemesis would help get you warmer?” He looked towards the bathroom door and then the window. If it was something he could do to help he wouldn’t object to a little hunt. “You said it ran towards the mountains, right? What are the odds of us finding it around here?”
For a moment, Wyatt was worried Caleb was going to think he was losing his grip on reality. Sure… Wyatt himself was an alligator monster, and Caleb was dead, but living snowmen? That was a little too Christmas Special, even for this town. But those concerns were quickly snuffed out as the man took his story in stride, even making a joke at Wyatt’s expense. It made a grin stretch across his face and he huffed out a chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “Couldn’t get much colder, I figured…” he teased right back.
He was just happy to have made Caleb laugh, but when the zombie started seriously considering his half-cocked suggestion, his eyebrows slowly rose. “I mean… maybe? It couldn’t hurt, right? If it’s some… some weird magic crap, if you get rid of the source, logic dictates…” He let the sentence quietly trail off before getting caught up in another shiver, which seemed to annoy him as it vibrated its way from head to toe.
His gaze followed Caleb’s to the window, and Wyatt nodded. “Yeah… in this general direction, too. Seems like slim odds, but I mean, stranger things have happened… living snowmen, for example…” He smirked at Caleb. “Why, you wanna join me on a hunt, firebug?”
He didn’t know a lot about magic but he was willing to bet that Wyatt’s train of thought was correct. If the source was gone how could it linger? It might have been a wild goose chase, sure, but the shiver alone was enough to help Caleb’s decision along. “I think a hunt might be fun…let's hope you can keep up.” He raised his eyebrows in a challenging manner, wondering if the playful banter would be what was needed to distract the gator long enough to get a break from the chills. “If we can find it I can lure it back here where you can get your sweet revenge that you deserve.”
Another thought came to mind, Caleb frowning before he brought it up. “Might want to stick with the blow dryer though. Fire and I don’t usually get along. It’s uh…” Should he really tell him this? Yea, he liked Wyatt and could tell that he wasn’t a bad guy, but that didn’t mean he really knew the guy, right? He’d just found out that his buddy knew of the undead and in this town coincidences weren’t really a thing. He’d learned that over the years. In the end, he wanted to trust him, to enjoy the man’s company without his paranoia getting in the way, so he continued. “It’s one of the only things that can kill me. A fireplace is a little different than a can that can explode at any second.”
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Wyatt snickered, sidling up beside Caleb and snaking an arm around his waist. “I’ll keep up plenty easy, thank you very much.” At least he hoped so, provided his cold ass bones didn’t slow him down. Fuck, they might. Maybe not if he was shifted—or maybe that would make it even worse. He couldn’t help but recall the colder evenings where he’d had to go on a hunt, and how lethargic it had made him feel.
Ugh.
“I do deserve some revenge, though, you’re right. So you’re on.” He quieted to listen as Caleb went on, explaining his apprehension around an open, explosive flame. Made sense. “Well hey, that’s one thing you n’ I got in common,” he offered with a wink, trying to keep the conversation light. After all, the list of things that could kill Wyatt might be a lot longer than Caleb’s, but fire was most assuredly present. “C’mon, let’s go look for an evil snowman. Maybe I’ll show you what a crackshot I am with a snowball along the way.”
It was about two hours later, and the pair were wandering through the trees of Seven Peaks, following the strange tracks of what he’d made a guess had to be snow… creatures. Snowmen seemed both diminishing and inaccurate, because some of these tracks were for sure not modeled after anything human.
“Where the hell d’you think they’re all goin’?” he asked Caleb, hands stuffed in his coat pockets and shoulders hunched to press his scarf up underneath his jaw. His long curls spilled out from beneath a wool cap that was tugged low on his head, the vain creature deciding that function outweighed fashion, at least in this scenario. “Snowbeast convention?”
“Oh, yea, that’s how it’s gonna be.” He nodded his head as he spoke, the zombie leaning into Wyatt’s touch. Funny how he could do that comfortably now that the truth of what he is was out there. “If I remember correctly, reptiles are cold blooded so I think the trash talk is warranted. I guess we’ll find out.”
Glad that the fire talk didn’t go on too long, Caleb grabbed his coat and scarf (that was mostly for aesthetic purposes) and made his way across the mountain with Wyatt. As fun as this adventure sounded he was worried about the other as they trudged through the snow for hours. This internal cold was new, they had no clue how it worked or if it could be potentially fatal. Wyatt didn’t seem to want to show any outward weaknesses either which had Caleb wondering if he was okay being out in the winter wonderland this long. The way he was bundled didn’t inspire any confidence.
“I have no clue…a homebase? Maybe they all came from the same place and they’re plotting against us? I think Erin mentioned one a while back…I should check on her after this.” It wouldn’t be too far-fetched. They were talking about live snowmen after all, how much more absurd could it get? “I must piss them off.” Seeing as he didn’t really get cold. Which reminded Caleb of something else and prompted the zombie to take off the scarf he had wrapped loosely around his neck. “Do you think an extra scarf would help? You wouldn’t have to hunch your shoulders as much. I’d even give you my jacket.”
He felt bad but Caleb knew that he couldn’t do this alone. He was not a hunter, there was no way for him to find these tracks the way Wyatt had, he just wished the other didn’t have to suffer so much while they were out there. “Wait, how many do you think there are? There’s a lot of tracks here.”
Should have moved to Florida, Wyatt thought to himself as a particularly violent shiver wracked his broad frame, even though he knew he couldn’t have. His extended family was spread far and wide across the southeastern coast, and he didn’t dare run the risk of running into one of them and blowing his cover. They were gossipers, after all. North had been his only option, though he was beginning to think maybe he should’ve stopped a few states before Maine.
A sidelong glance at Caleb quelled some of that disquiet, and a small smile found its way onto his face. “Evil snowmen with a home base… sounds about right,” he laughed. His grip on the wireless hair dryer in his large coat pocket tightened, and he just hoped he saw his one-armed nemesis somewhere in what was looking to be a pretty big collection of snowdemons. Weresnowcreatures. Whatever. “Hah, you must! I wonder if they know. Probably too stupid, I mean what do they got for brains, anyway? Dirt and rocks?” His smile only broadened when Caleb offered his scarf and coat, a funny sort of feeling of endearment making the lamia forget his discomfort for a few moments. “What, and ruin that perfectly cute ensemble you got goin’ on? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He angled himself closer to Caleb, bringing their shoulders together with just a few steps and hooking arms with him, taking a closer look at the tracks they were following in an earnest attempt to answer the question as accurately as possible. “Hm… a dozen, maybe? But looks like some of ‘em are older, so maybe we won’t have to deal with that many.”
They were climbing a small hill now, and cresting the top of it, Wyatt had to eat his words. Before them lay a small valley that was absolutely full of the things… for what purpose, he couldn’t say. Collecting more mountain snow to stay alive? It had been a bit warmer down in the town the last couple of days, so a migration to higher elevations made sense. But.. they were all stock still. Not a single one flinched as the pair came into view, and Wyatt’s eyebrows rose. “Mais! I take it back, firebug.”
“Should have been a Doctor Who episode. Or a terrible movie.” It probably was now that he thought about it. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough on the subject of film to know. What did he know? “That sounds about right, actually. Or maybe the carrot nose is its source of power. Lets pit the reindeer against them and see who wins.” Grinning at Wyatt’s words, Caleb turned his blue eyes on him, catching Wyatt’s own. The look being sent his way was enough to ignite that nervous energy he was now so used to having around the other man, the zombie pretty much forgetting what had been said. The scarf went back on quickly when Wyatt’s approval was registered though.
“That shouldn’t be too bad, rig-” He was cut off in the middle of his word as they came over the hill, Caleb’s eyes going wide when he took in the sight before them. He lowered his voice, not knowing if they were sleeping (did evil snowmen sleep) or if something was wrong with them all. “It’s like a snowman cult…they actually have a homebase.” At least that’s what it looked like. What the hell was going on here? What were they doing? Was that a snow Shrek?
One thing was for certain though, and Caleb’s stomach dropped when he realized it. There were way too many of them for the handheld that Wyatt had brought along. If they all came back to life at once there was going to be some sort of epic battle between a bone cold alligator and a man who was useless without a shovel. Maybe he could find a big tree branch or something.
Before he could come up with a solution, he saw one of the snowmen start to shiver to life, snow cascading around it. Another one next to it started to shake, and then another, but he wasn’t sure whether they were all coming to life or only a select few. “Uh…Wyatt…I think we’re going to need a bigger hairdryer.”
“You know, I bet the reindeer would decimate those things,” Wyatt agreed, not knowing exactly how right he was—or how much he was about to suddenly wish that they’d been followed up here by the hungry, hairy beasts.
Staring at the small army of snowthings, the lamia was at a loss. All he could do was shake his head, blown away by the sight. Caleb was right—one hairdryer was not going to cut it. “Okay… okay. Hang on. Here, take this,” He fished out the hairdryer, passing it to Caleb. The snow creatures continued stirring to life, shaking off the blanket of recent snowfall to expose their true forms—whatever they’d been designed to look like by probably human hands. “My guy was a little on the short side, had these weird animal legs and big branches for arms—missin’ one of those, now. Red scarf. Um… baby carrot nose.” He frowned, then scoffed. “Basically an evil Mr. Tumnus. Whoever made it is a C. S. Lewis fan, apparently.” More of the creatures were waking from their hibernation, and Wyatt sensed a fight in his future. Such was his lot in life. He turned to Caleb, unhooking their arms to brace his hands against the other’s shoulders. “You find Mr. Tumnus. Melt his stupid head. I’ll keep the rest of these goons away from you.” He gave a resolute nod and started removing his clothing, dumping the hat and scarf into the snowbank, followed shortly by the coat and sweater.
“... beggin’ your pardon, but I’d rather not be stuck up here with shredded clothes, once this is all said n’ done,” he explained as he pulled his shirt off over his head, dropping it on top of the pile. Next were the boots, the thermal socks, and finally, the pants and underwear. Jesus fucking christ it was cold. The lamia wasted no time shifting into his more natural state of being, thankful for the slight protection his thick, scaled skin brought him, though it did little for the chill that had settled in his marrow. The snowcreatures were moving now, moving toward them, though not especially fast. He scanned the herd, looking for a one-armed, red-scarf-wearing pile of powder, but didn’t see one just yet. Maybe it was still half-buried. Or maybe this was all for naught. Either way… Wyatt released an irritated huff and charged down the hill at them, swiping with his claws and tail and trying to obliterate as many of them as best he could, holding their attention and giving Caleb an opportunity to sneak around the edge of the valley.
He had been ready to run. Everything in Caleb was telling him that they needed to turn and get as far away from these things as possible. It may have been snowmen but there were too many of them for this to be a fair fight and these bastards were angry when alive. His eyes were locked on the snowmen when the hairdryer was placed in his hand, Wyatt’s words falling on deaf ears, but he realized what the other wanted them to do he came to his senses. “Wait, Wyatt, we need to-”
His words were cut off when he looked over and saw the other undressing, the man’s shirt coming off just as his sights landed on the lamia. It took him a beat longer than it should have to avert his eyes back to the incoming snowmen, his jumbled thoughts slowly going back to the horde instead of where they had been leading him. “Yea, no, y-you’re hot- good! You’re good.” Caleb swallowed thickly, cursing his inability to act like a normal freaking human being. “This isn’t a good idea.”
But he was already shifted, Caleb peaking for a second to make sure and grateful to see that he hadn’t just invaded the guys right to privacy. “Okay so we’re doing this….Wyatt smash, I guess.” He watched the gator tear into the front line of them, shaking his head but for some reason he was…smiling. Maybe he needed to enjoy this life he’d been given more, give in to what he was and have fun with it the way Wyatt seemed to. It was a thought. But right now, he had work to do.
God, why was he clumsy? The first step he took towards the outer edge of these things had him slipping but he caught himself before he was fully down, glad that Wyatt was busy with the majority of these things. Most of them were too caught up in the giant alligator a few were noticing the lanky undead slipping by and at least two were on his tail. He turned, quickly using the hairdryer to melt their heads before knocking over their bodies, a test to see if it would get rid of them indefinitely. It seemed to work. They were staying down so Caleb moved along again as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention, eyes scanning the crowd of them. There was no Mr. Tumnus yet but that Shrek was coming towards him.
“Why don’t you go find Donkey or something?” There had to be one, right? His finger was pressed to the button, ready to put pressure on it if the thing came too close. It was slow though, Caleb’s long legs carrying him past quickly despite another slip, and he kept looking for a telltale red scarf.
For Wyatt, running had never been an option. Even if his snowman wasn’t here, and even if melting the damn thing didn’t rid him of this aching forever-cold, the lamia had never turned down a fight and wasn’t about to start now. He never stopped to think about what that might say about him or how that might affect the people around him—he’d been on his own for over a decade now, who else did he have to care about but himself? Still, his gaze was briefly drawn to Caleb as he scurried down the bank, a smile on his face, and it sparked a fresh surge of enthusiasm in the lamia’s chest.
The beast let out a loud bellow, slapping snow creatures this way and that, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter. A flash of red caught his eye and he rose onto his feet, towering over even the tallest of the frosty abominations.
“There!” he shouted to Caleb, finding the zombie on the opposite side of a particularly thick swathe of snowmen. Tumnus was between them, taunting him with that stupid scarf and that stupid, shit-eating grin. With his attention fixed on the miracle that was finding his mortal enemy, Wyatt plowed through the rest of the creatures indiscriminately, headed right for Tumnus. As he closed in on the thing he pounced, knocking it to the ground and pinning it there. “You fuckin’ bastard,” he snarled, shivering violently while the creature struggled beneath him, its limbs falling apart and trying to reassemble themselves as Wyatt kept it from making much progress. Other snowmen were surrounding him, a few even climbing up onto his back. But he could see Caleb coming his way with the hair dryer, and knew this would be over sooner rather than later.
If Caleb thought watching Wyatt fight a crystal monster was ludicrous, it had nothing on watching him barrel through a group of snowmen at least twelve deep. After getting his attention, an incredulous laugh rang out as a towering gator ran, snow flying around him on all sides. One day he would get used to this stuff, right?
As soon as Wyatt had the thing pinned, he snapped out his daze. There were too many of them for the hairdryer, Caleb looking around the ground frantically before spotting a large stick sticking out of white fluffy snow. He grabbed it and took off running towards the snowmen closing in on Wyatt, stick in one hand, hairdryer hanging on in the other while he dodge as many of the things as he could. He must’ve looked like a wild man.
He came in swinging, both hands enclosed around the stick, the hairdryer somehow hanging on in between. One snowman, five snowmen, one off of Wyatt’s back, they all went down with the wild swings he was throwing around but when he got close enough to the Tumnus Caleb switched to the hairdryer. He was holding it towards Wyatt, expecting the man to take it, before he realized that it would be an impossible feat for the gator. “Right, yea, I’ll do it. It’s fine.” Even if he wished that the other man could have the honors of melting the face off the one who had caused him so much misery. It almost wasn’t fair that he didn’t get his poetic justice.
He flipped the switch, pointed the device towards Tumnus, and waited to see if destroying the thing would bring on some semblance of warmth into the lamia.
Eviscerating the body of Tumnus didn’t relieve the cold, but Wyatt made sure to leave the head intact for Caleb to melt (slowly, unfortunately) with the hairdryer. He kept one eye on his antagonist, the other on all the other snowmen that seemed to be having second thoughts about attacking them, though a few did still try.
Tumnus let out a shrill screech as his dumb face melted into the snow around them, and Wyatt could feel the warmth slowly returning to his limbs. Of course he was still cold, he was a gator in the nude up in the snowy mountains, but the body heat created by battling these snowdemons was finally able to be felt. The lamia let out a whoop of celebration, smearing Tumnus’ head into the frozen grass that’d been beneath the layer of snow, delighted to see it all dissolving. “Fuck yeah, baby!” he hollered, nosing at Caleb’s legs to knock him off his feet, lifting the zombie up on his head and giving his snout a quick bounce, guiding the man in a quick slip down to his neck. “Hold on!” They were done here—the rest of these fuckers weren’t their problem, and Wyatt just wanted to get the hell out of here and get warm again. He leaped through the snow on all fours, opening his jaws to scoop up the pile of neatly folded clothes into his mouth as he barrelled past, wanting to put some distance between them and the field of wintery creatures before stopping to change.
Once they were a safe distance away, back in the trees where the snow hadn’t collected on the ground in such a thick blanket, Wyatt came to a stop and dropped his clothes back onto the forest floor, then lowered himself down to let Caleb climb off of him. He wasted no time shifting back to his human form and getting dressed faster than he probably ever had in his life, and a sigh of relief was quick to follow. “My god… that is the stuff,” he laughed as he pulled on his gloves and tugged the hat down over his mop of curls once more. His gaze then fell to Caleb and he was beaming from ear to ear, unceremoniously wrapping the other up in a hug and lifting his feet off the ground, planting an overjoyed kiss on his forehead. “I owe you, big time!”
As he held the hair dryer out, Caleb could see some of the sneakier snowmen of the group trying to get closer to the two of them. Lucky that he had the stick and a nine foot alligator next to him. He would brandish his makeshift weapon when they got too close but it didn’t take long for him to hear the celebratory shout, making the zombie look up. The sheer joy shining through the thick skin of the alligator had him grinning as the hairdryer died with the press of a button but the question of how they were going to get out of the mass of snowmen slowly curved his lips down.
For a split second, he’d thought that one of the snowy bastards had knocked him off of his feet. This was it. They were all going to swarm and not even the gigantic animal next to them would be able to stop the bunch. But Caleb should have had more faith. He knew better than to underestimate the man he’d come here with but who would expect to be carried around on a very large alligator’s back?
It was a thrilling ride, if not a terrifying one, and he found himself holding on for dear life while still looking back at the snowmen left behind and laughing at how angry they all were. He even saw a few sticks raised in the air, vibrating as if they were shaking their fists at the two who had gotten away.
It was all done in a blur, Caleb on his feet and not even having time to be embarrassed that Wyatt was naked once again. He was too busy letting the delight of this whole experience course through him, almost like what he would call an adrenaline rush. But he couldn’t get those anymore…right? Wyatt almost made the little high worse when he picked Caleb up, his laughter echoing despite the snow surrounding them. “I didn’t do anything, I wanted to run, remember?” It didn’t matter though. He hadn’t run, he’d stuck around and actually had fun for once. If Wyatt wanted to owe him for that, well, maybe just this once he wouldn’t protest. After he was back on the ground, his hands went to rest on Wyatt’s shoulder and Caleb leaned closer. “You know what? I’m gonna cash in the favor already.” He pressed a light kiss to the other’s lips, his grin slowly turning into a smirk. “All I want is to go back to the room and make sure you stay warm for the rest of the weekend.”
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