Repose

Who:Oliver, Hunter, Cris
What: The repairing of a window, store opening
Where: Sonrisa
When: Morning
Warnings: Nay

( It was one of Oliver's gray days. )

[Locked to Connie G]
Hey. [...] Do you remember me? We talked once on here for 6 seconds or something.

[Locked to Shane A]
Happy birthday, baby.

Hello townsfolk,

It's time to play a fun little game that I like to call "two truths and a lie." It's where you get to come here and tell me three things about yourself, two true things and one lie, and then I (and the studio audience) get to guess which one is the lie.

Why? Well because I'm nosy and my place is too small to throw a mixer so this is my ice breaker game for the day. Humor me.

I'll start.

1. I watched 120 episodes of Pretty Little Liars in 12 days
2. I'm related to Martha Washington's first husband
3. I believed in Santa Claus for way too long.

[Connie's shift hadn't technically ended at the B&B around 2am, but there weren't a lot of customers this time of year. Some people left town once that kid went missing. Some of the reporters who had been there to cover the kid had left, too. Connie figured if the few people who were staying there wanted something, it was a slim chance. And, they could deal until she got back. She needed to do a prank, she needed to have fun. Anything to escape this weird urge to cry that she couldn't shake. It came at the worst times. A dumb commercial about a dog who got lost, a pretty bouquet of flowers at the supermarket, a funny text message from her brother. She found herself wondering a lot more lately if her dad was really coming home at all. If she was using him as an excuse to be lazy.

Connie stepped outside into the chilly, but quiet night. She looked up at the moon yaaaooww'd! at it and then raised her hand. The world around her went still, frozen in place like a snowglobe left alone for decades, and she let herself cry. Something ugly, stupid, meaningless. Loud. It didn't matter when time was turned off. She knew she didn't have a reason to. She knew that her life was purposely built to keep her from feeling like being alone was awful. But, she cried anyway. It took a while, long enough that her powers started to fizz out and she could see her skin melt from her bones. She turned to look at the black window of the B&B at her grinning, skeleton face. Blue fire in her eyes. A curse her dad put on her, whether he knew it or not.

And then with a snap, time went back to normal. Her face was fleshy and cute once more and she felt better. Nothing a little cry couldn't solve. Connie smiled at herself, winking that blue fire out of her eyes and then she made her way to city hall. She asked Dahl to meet her across the street at the cemetery so they could cement their plans. When Dahl got there, she'd find Connie leaning against the cemetery entrance, arms crossed confidently and looking cool as fuck. As per the usual.]

[Locked to Matt D]

How are you with burns? I know you patch people up in the woods. Don't even bother pretending you don't.

[public]

given the trend of new and exciting business custom, what would, oh town of towns, be your dream new entry onto the mean streets of repose? all and any entries, gratefully received. (will there be a prize for the most inventive, you say? why yes. there might be, should imagination stretch to the dizzying and lofty heights worthy of such plaudits)

Who: Juliet & Eddie
What: Ancient history
When: Recent!
Where: The church

She was a sinner and a terrible one, because she didn't give a goddamn. Juliet didn't believe in churches or prayers or in the good of others. She'd fished around in the sea of humanity and found too much dross and shit to think prayer would give her a line to anything good. She hadn't come near a church in years - sanctified ground, and Juliet James? There's a punch-line to that. But she came now. Answers were threatening on the horizon to questions that had been stamped down, smothered like the grass under the snow. She wore boots, laced over thick socks and she blew clouds of steamed breath and smoke over the thick puff of a black scarf knotted around her throat. It was the concession to the weather; leather jacket with shoulders made for cities instead of quiet church-yards.

Answers. God, she hadn't even thought of the fucking questions in years and she was uncomfortable now, sober-stale breath and cigarettes in cold-shaky fingers and defiant-red painted mouth in narrow face. Repose was forgotten, new layered over the old like a palimpsest, with the barest traces like hollows or shadows instead of memories. She didn't know if her mother or father had been church-going, God-fearing folk. Or if they'd prayed to the devil.

She sucked an ashed breath, ignored the desire to circle back via booze and waited, boots scuffed on snow for Eddie.

[Cat had never been to Em's place in the woods, but that? Was unimportant. She'd figure that out. The important thing? Was the fact that Em had been in pain for nearly a month now. She wasn't sure how far Emily's humanity extended, and she wasn't sure if Emily was the type of woman who was prone to exaggeration. All she knew? Was that a month for a burn to heal? Was much too much. And the fact that Em didn't even seem to know what an infection was? That didn't help Cat feel any better about things.

And she trusted Matt, which helped. Oh, she didn't trust him not to kill someone at the drop of a hat, and she didn't trust him to be a harmless lapdog in need of a hug - unlike Grant - but she trusted him not to say anything if Em sprouted inky black wings during a medical examine, and wasn't that something? Matt was a man of secrets, and Cat knew a tiny bit about those, so at least she wasn't worried about bringing Matt into Em's world. Em wasn't a Russian spy, and there was nothing to worry about.

So, jeans and a black sweater, a peacoat in shiny leather, boots and a beanie over her riot of curls, Cat found herself at the entrance to the caves. Black gloves on her fingers, and only idle curiosity about what was happening underground. There had been enough obsessive curiosity in her New Jersey days about underground caves. These days? She would prefer to stay above ground, thank you very much. She shifted from one foot to the other, ready to get moving, seeing as she was having unfortunate thoughts about Emily's hand rotting off. Cat? She wasn't particularly interested in playing nurse. And the quicker Matt got to his patient? The better.]