Repose

[There's a girl seen wandering the town late, late on Sunday evening. Pale, blonde, petite, with piercing blue eyes, the girl seems to be in her late teens. She wanders barefoot throughout the evening, passing along neighborhood sidewalks and along storefronts. No one dies in her wake, but she doesn't pass without leaving a mark. She walks in a swirl of bottomless hunger, and she carries that gluttonous voracity in every pore. It reaches out, into windows and doors, and it brushes against the skin of those maddened and wandering the streets. The hunger infects them, swirls within them, and it leaves them craving everything they can never have. Those affected greedily reach for each other—in love, in lust, in unabashed worship. Out come the faithful, and the streets the girl travels become a parade path for ancient rituals to honor false gods. Porches and yards and streets are lit with bonfire lights. Prayer comes to Repose, but it is no prayer to a fatherly messiah with a beard. As for the girl, she feeds off this, and her skin is rosy and warm as she continues her aimless meandering through Repose's battlefields. It's not death, but it'll do.]

I'm getting the hell out of here.

[As the town swells and bilges in un-satiated hunger and un-slaked desire, spinnerets of sharpened inspiration trail in their wake. It begins with lust that drives men-folk home, who see old loves and forgotten desires in the shape of them around them. It couples together those who hallucinate themselves in love, in lust, in anger and anguish but who slake it with one another violently, over and over in a glut of sexual satisfaction that will not truly extinguish. It is in the knives people take from their kitchen drawers, and the malice of opportunity, a carefully placed foot that knocks a man into the road until the cars squeal an inch from his forehead. It is in the drink, as the grocery store is broken into by night, windows smashed and alarms squealing and every drop of alcohol that can be stolen is stolen and the drunks sleep on the benches in the park. It is in opportunity taken and seized and plundered, over and over in attempt at bloody fulfilment.]

[He can't cancel it all, and he realizes, after trying that tact some, that he ain't doing a lick of good. So, he does the only thing he can think of to do: He makes a safe area over near the churches, 'tween them, stringing religious buildings together with Grace and real unconcerned with denominations. The path to the churches is blessed, and he ain't alone. See, this mess, it's real awful for The Balance, and so others come and help make things better. The west side of town is blanketed in safe. The infrasound don't reach there, and the madness caused by other divine things, it don't manage to get through the protective circle. Folks that can't leave town, they gather inside, and there's blankets and camping gear spread out. The churches feed folks and folks rally, and, for a tiny spell, there's a quiet place 'mid the chaos.]

Who: Sadie Marella and Leena Bertolini
What: Fireside Smoresin’
Where: By the fire, at the end of the map Leena gives her
When: After this
Rating: Nothing but some kissing.
Status: Log, Complete
Notes: Theme music :3

( Fire could turn sand into glass )