(no subject)

[negative_feedback]

dated: Oct 5/6

It's been over a week, and nothing has happened. Nothing bad, anyway. Her family is getting used to the idea of her strange, uninvited friends crashing with them. So far, everyone's followed the rules, and most of the people who'd followed her here have enough of a grasp on Sign Language to hold and follow silent conversations.


And thanks to her mom, Regan's able to keep people somewhat entertained with board games that won't make a racket.


But it's still weird. Regan still doesn't know how she's here, or how all of her friends are here, too. She's come home, but she remembers Darrow. She didn't think that was supposed to be possible.


And yet here she is, standing off to the side while she watches all of these people that she's grown to love and care for, trying to adapt to this new, silent life. How long will they be here for? Is this forever?


It's time to get more fish, because the incredible excess of mouths to feed means they're going through their food much faster. Some of the people who'd come along are more than capable of fending for themselves, so Dad organizes them into groups, with whoever he decides is trustworthy and smart enough to keep people safe and quiet to lead each one. Regan can tell Marcus is relieved he doesn't have to go.


But she still wants to. There are enough people that she allows herself to get easily lost into one of the groups, and they make their ways out, each going in different directions. It's just smarter that way. The fewer people going through the same sandy path, the less likely they'll be to make a fatal mistake.


At least, that's the plan.


It's nice to get out of the yard for awhile, anyway. Some people have stayed behind to help Mom and Marcus get more sleeping areas set up. If they start to think this is permanent, then they'll probably have to find a way to house everyone. They can't all cramp into one space. That's a surefire way to get killed. But for now, spreading out beds is a good move. People need their privacy, and their space.


She doesn't know how it happens. She doesn't know the cause. But suddenly, people are trying to scatter, trying to hide.


And there's a creature. They move so fast, it's easy to overlook them, but she sees it. She'd recognize those movements anywhere, she thinks. And her body responds in instinct, hands clamping over her mouth and staying stockstill.


[ Another gathering! As before, jump in at any point in the post that you want to. Be one of the hunting/foraging parties that gets attacked by one of the creatures, or stay at home and maybe have an encounter of your own! Tag each other, tag around, utilize the NPC Abbott family as needed. Whichever group you want Regan to be apart of, she will be, because Darrow is MAGIC and reality is what we make of it XD be the reason the creature hears your group, or be part of a group completely unscathed and just have a nice little vacation trip to the waterfall! As before, any questions you have can be directed here, and I'll do my best to answer them! ]

Comments

[loficharm]

The longer this goes on, the harder it gets.

Well, that isn't strictly true; certain things get easier. Regan's family is... plainly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of inexplicable strangers, but they are kind and they are determined, and they are very, very good at surviving in this unfriendly place. Lee is able to fill him in on the situation of it all, and Evelyn - Christ, she really does look exactly like Greta - is incredibly patient with him, giving him a crash course in American Sign Language as well as guiding him in the day-to-day. The quiet is comforting, after a fashion, though he's never able to forget why it's necessary.

But all that - the adapting, the constant awareness of nearby danger - that isn't what makes it hard. It's that the more he settles into it, the longer it becomes normal to wake up here, to keep silent, to help Evelyn with food preparation, the more dread sets into his heart that this is it. Darrow sent him somewhere - not just him, but a lot of them, like it meant to send Regan home but coughed up a whole handful of others along with her. Just as he'd started to get settled, to tentatively grow used to it. And as everyone is rounded up and brought together, it becomes unavoidable to recognize that among that handful, John is not. Or if he was brought here, he is on his own somewhere, or likely dead.

He tries very hard not to think about it. That had been getting easier back home, and now he has to relearn all over again, for reasons much more arbitrary. It is maddening.

"Why the long face?" Evelyn signs, slowly so he'll have a better chance to parse it. They've been standing in the kitchen together, quietly preparing some dinner; he hadn't realized he'd been moping so obviously. He hesitates a moment as he pieces her question together, then smiles faintly.

"I miss..." he signs a bit awkwardly - he knows he's doing the words in the wrong order, spoken order, but he hasn't had time to learn the proper grammar of it yet - "home."

That isn't quite true. It isn't home he misses. Not his proper home, and not Darrow. But he doesn't know how to sign the full truth of it, and he doesn't want to get into it now.

"I understand." She smiles and nudges his arm. They've hit it off quite well, which is a small comfort. She looks over their half-prepared food, then back at him. "I've got this," she signs. "Do you want a better distraction?"

She ends up having to spell both 'better' and 'distraction' for him - he's managed to memorize the alphabet, at least - but once he understands, he nods in passive agreement. It certainly can't hurt.


[Two options: Martin can keep people company around the house (open to everyone), or he can venture outside with Regan and her brother, which will lead to his inevitable monster death :D If your pup is hangin around the house and wants to chill with a sweet boy, come get it!]

[eddie_spaghetti]

It was restlessness that sent him out on the supply run, despite his near overwhelming terror at fucking things up and getting everyone killed. Anxiety was a pretty great motivator, apparently. So much so that Regan's dad seemed to mistake his meticulous, obsessive carefulness for competency.

He didn't know how to fish, but he could gather, and they'd been shown different plants to keep a look out for. They were all quiet, picking their way carefully along the sandy paths laid out through the forest. So quiet that, when people started to scatter, the rustle of footsteps and disturbed leaves was cacophonous. Panic gripped his chest and he grabbed the wrist of whomever was closest on instinct, pressing a finger to his lips and standing stock still.

For once, his habit of freezing like a terrified rabbit worked in his favor. The creature— God, it was ugly. A reflexive gag worked its way up into his throat as it skittered past, his eyes watering in his effort to stifle it. It disappeared into the leaves, barely making a sound itself, it's footsteps impossibly light for something so large.

A tear rolled over Eddie cheek. He didn't know how long he stood there, too scared to move even enough to find out whose wrist he clung to tightly enough to bruise. When he finally did move, it was with a silently shuddering breath, his shoulders hitching quietly, his fingers aching as he loosened their death grip.

[the_trashmouth]

Richie mostly goes out for supplies because Regan and Eddie and Jamie are going. Even though he knows it's not any safer inside than it is outside, it feels like it. When there are walls all around them, it's almost easy to forget what's out there, just waiting for them to make a sound. But the idea of being inside without his friends— even if Regan's mom is still around— is too much to think about.

Fuck.

But it's all going pretty okay, at least at first. He's helping gather plants as they walk, and he's found a new way to do his Voices to try and lighten the mood as they work. Deep, over-exaggerated bows for the English Butler. A wide stance, hands on his hips for Foghorn Leghorn. An invisible hat to tip and night stick to twirl for the Irish Cop. This whole thing still sucks, but maybe it can suck a little less now.

He thinks that, until the creature shows up. He's not supposed to move, they're supposed to be so quiet. But Richie doesn't know how the fuck he can just stand there, knowing it's there. Richie clamps both hands over his mouth to try and quiet his panicked breathing, trying to meet one of his friends' eyes so he can figure out what the fuck he's supposed to do now.