Fandom kiss the gash in my neck, call it romance. || MoggieMoof & JayCy3366

[MoggieMoof]

It was cold. Well, colder than it should have been in Winona’s bedroom. There was a steady breeze that brushed against her exposed skin, causing chills to run down her spine and evidently stir her awake… Did I leave the window open? She couldn’t help but think as she was slowly pulled from her state of unconsciousness. No, definitely not—I haven’t kept a window open in weeks. Rather than propping open a window to let the cold air into her usually hot bedroom like she used to, she now preferred to ensure that all of her windows were closed and locked up.

Then, she caught the unmistakable scent of smoke. Two things that usually didn’t pair well together, the scent of smoke and the cold frigid air… After all, how could that make any sense?

Lifting an arm to dig the heel of her palm into one of her eyes in order to harshly rub away the sleepiness, she shifted in her bed—oh. That doesn’t… That doesn’t feel like her bed. There was something prickly lining her back, biting at wherever her skin was exposed. Was that… Grass?

Cold. Smoke. Grass.

Winnie was up in an instant, jolting upwards and scrambling onto her knees. Now with her eyes open, she took in the sights around her, if they could even be referred to as such. Grass, trees, something that looked like cabins up ahead, some tents scattered about, and a few sorry excuses for shelter made from large, probably rotting sticks and rusted sheets of metal that she definitely didn’t trust.

By the looks of it, nobody was around—at least not where she was right now, on the outskirts of this… Place.

Another one of those nightmares, right? She couldn’t help but make the presumption, with all of the nightmares that she had been having over the last few weeks. Still, why did this feel so—no, she didn’t want to think about that, because this wasn’t real, so there was no point in thinking like that.

As she brought herself to her feet, she dusted herself off as best as she could, brushing any strands of grass or flecks of dirt from her skin and clothes. Her back ached, as if she had been laying on the ground for a while, but she ignored that fact in favor of figuring out where she was. Well, trying to figure out where she was.

Her feet led her to where the smell of smoke was strongest, presumably a campfire of sorts–a fire of any kind would be nice, given how cold she was getting—was it getting colder? With a sharp sigh, she lifted her hands to cradle her arms against her abdomen, effectively holding herself within a hug. This did nothing against the chill in the air, however.

Usually her dreams didn’t involve campsites, she noted as she walked by the cabins—which had definitely seen better days, by the way. Her appearance seemed to catch the attention of a few others, some of whom were just lingering in the doorway of some of the cabins, others who were closer to the fire that was nestled in the center of the clearing. Awkwardly, she paused where she stood, unsure if she was, well… Unsure if she was actually welcome here.

The stares that she received were difficult to place, as they didn’t necessarily look upset, angry, or anything of the sort. Pitying, maybe, was a better word for it. Whatever it was, it made Winnie frown, and she couldn’t help but close in on herself. Pivoting on her heel, she was about to head back to where she had started, hoping to wait this out until she woke up. However, upon turning around, she found herself staring at—what, fog?

There was such a thick, dark fog splayed out before her, covering the expanse of the grass that she had just traversed over. She couldn’t see where she had just come from because of it. No tents, no haphazardly put together structures, just… Fog.

Uncertain, she took a step backwards, and was both fascinated and horrified to find that it seemed to follow her. Slowly, almost leisurely, really. This is where it ends, Winnie thought as she eyed it, this is when I get to wake up.

Soon.

Right?

Winnie waited, and waited… And waited. Waited for the eventual shock, for the eventual appearance of that haunting white expression amidst the fog, effectively frightening her enough to return her to the waking world.

That moment never came, though, and the fog seemed to swallow her whole instead. The air around her grew more frigid, and for a moment, she wondered if it would start snowing. Nothing but the darkness provided by the fog and a little bit of snow—but there was nothing for a little while. Just a whole lot of waiting.

After what felt like an entire set of five minutes, the fog slowly began to dissipate. When her vision finally began to return to her, she had to squint due to the sudden change in lighting–it actually was snowing, and in comparison to the darkness that she had just been wallowing in for the past few minutes, this place was bright. Bright, cold, and generally quiet.

Winnie didn’t know what to make of it. Owlishly, she blinked, slowly turning around to take in her surroundings. A little ways away was a building of sorts, and just by the appearance of its exterior, she could only presume that it was a ski lodge of some kind. Why was she dreaming about a ski lodge, anyway? She had never even gone skiing before, so this was kind of odd, if she had to be honest.

Still with her arms folded over herself in what seemed to be a self-reciprocated hug, she trudged through the snow, heading towards the lodge in hopes of finding—well, anything really.

---

Patrols. Kate didn’t particularly enjoy patrols, but then again, did anyone? Patrols weren’t the worst possible fate that you could face here, and she definitely knew that, but that didn’t remove from the fact that patrols could be pretty dangerous, too.

If you ran into a killer out there? Oh, bad news—and who knows what would happen if they managed to kill one of them out there. It was a curiosity that many of them wondered about, even Kate herself. Not curious enough to go out and test the waters themselves, because there was that same question that always resurfaced whenever the topic got brought up: what if you actually die when you’re not in a trial? Most survivors debated that wouldn’t make sense, but nobody ever dared to actually give it a shot, not even in the name of science.

With all things considered, other than the uncertain threat of real death, patrols were usually pretty easy going. They usually stuck to patrolling the same general areas, not wanting to venture out too far just in case they got caught in a particularly sticky situation. Patrols always needed to ensure that they had an easy way back just in case shit hit the fan—and sometimes that did happen, so it was definitely better to be safe than sorry… A few horror stories drifted around the campfire from certain experiences, because they all had some of those, but for the most part patrols weren't all that awful. Besides, oftentimes it was the company you had on these patrols that would make or break them.

Speaking of company…

“Moira,” Kate chirped from outside of the aforementioned survivor's cabin. She could have just wandered in, considering the fact that Moira knew that they were on a patrol today and they should be ready, but that wouldn't be too polite now, would it? “I'm ready to head out whenever you are!”

Surely she was in there, right? Well, usually Moira was in her cabin getting ready before patrols, and usually Kate came to find her here.

With a soft sigh, Kate shifted to lean against the rickety railing—which, now that she thought about it, she probably shouldn’t even be trusting it at all to hold her weight. Crossing her arms over her chest, she eyed the campfire and the few survivors that sat around it until some movement caught her eyes.

Hesitantly approaching the fire as if they weren’t sure they belonged was—well, judging by the fact that Kate had never seen them before—a newbie. Newbies were usually Moira’s bread and butter, but she wasn’t out here for introductions quite yet. Kate didn’t mind doing so herself, but she had a patrol to tend to, so she simply watched as the newbie practically floundered around.

Poor thing, Kate couldn’t help but think as she watched the fog roll in. Completely clueless as to what this place was and to what awaited them.

“Hey!” Kate averted her gaze, turning to the cabin door again. Giving the door a bit of a harsh knock this time, she continued, “You didn’t forget about the patrol, did you? C’mon,”

When the songbird glanced over her shoulder towards where the newbie had been standing before, they were gone. A quiet sigh fell from her lips, but she couldn’t shake the slight guilt that she felt weighing down on her shoulders now—should she have done something? Tried to explain anything at all before she had gotten whisked away? Maybe, but she couldn’t go back and change that now.

To make up for such a sin, she'd probably just let Moira know that she'd have another newcomer on her hands. Although everyone tried to put in an effort to help newbies, Moira had taken up the role of a teacher, of sorts. More so than everybody else around here, at least. It’s not that nobody wanted to show them the ropes, teach them about how this place worked and how to survive, it’s just that… Well, nobody really wanted to get attached to the newcomers, because most of the time, they didn’t last long. In a place like this, they had to spare their own sanity somehow, even if it meant being maybe a little bit selfish at times. They had to do what they had to in order to keep their heads on straight here.

When the cabin door had finally opened, Kate visibly perked up. Well, hopefully it wasn’t too obvious that she had brightened up as much as she did just now, but if she knew Moira very well—and she was pretty sure she did—then they probably wouldn’t notice a thing. “Jeez, did I catch you napping, or what?”

A tease, of course. Kate knew that Moira took patrolling as seriously as most of the other survivors did, but it was just in her nature to tease. When the two had first met during Kate's close-call, we'll call it, she was nearly a shell of the person that she once was. A shell of the person that she was now, even. Although neither of them lingered on that fact from the past for very long, even she couldn't deny that Kate had Moira to thank for... Well, everything that she was right now, jokes and all.

 

[JayCy336]

Above the lanky pines the night sky shone in all sorts of yellow and orange hues as spiny black structures wove themselves through a cotton field of clouds. The Killer Village was surrounded by lanky pines, so the eerie peak into the entities vast realm was quite easy. Of course, it was never truly day or night here, yet the Ghostface somehow just knew it was soon going to be midnight. Perhaps it was the remnants of his circadian rhythm, perhaps it was part of the many abilities the Entity granted him. He’d been here for two weeks and four days, which Danny only knew because he kept a set of tally marks etched into the wall next to his bed. There was not a lot to his cabin; a small yet comfortable twin bed, a nightstand with a fairly dim lantern, a rather empty dresser, a table fit for one person along with two chairs and a countertop intended for cooking (although there wasn’t a stove or fridge).

Although for now, he had not spent a lot of time in his cabin. Within the brief time after his arrival, the Ghostface had already partaken in twenty trials, all of which he’d left with no survivors. It pulled him into a sort of adrenaline rush to be able to kill someone over and over without having to worry about covering it up. As much as he enjoyed toying with people’s minds, cleaning up after himself was tedious and keeping up his fake identities had taken long to perfect. There was not a lot to complain about, though he did miss his camera dearly.

Within the walls of his locked cabin, the Ghostface occasionally took off his mask. His dark brown eyes were a little too used to seeing the world through a dark net, so the lantern’s light was almost too bright. His jet black hair laid flat from the veil surrounding his mask as some strands stuck to his forehead. Unlike his mask he had a rather boxy face and pronounced jawline. There was some dried blood on his face, though he was unaware of that for now. He had no mirror and didn’t want any of the other killers to see his face. It was none of their business.
This had not been an issue yet, as everyone appeared to be more private, although one of the first things someone told him was to look out for the “four kids with the smiley masks” who were known to cause trouble. However, from what he heard the Legion, as they called themselves, stayed further North within the confounds of their own map. Danny wasn’t worried about them at all, yet he had to stop himself from underestimating the other killers. They’d all been here way longer than him and would probably have equally stellar resumes.

Danny’s mind wandered between memories of his kills before entering the realm, the ones done in the trial and how life here may be long term. He hadn’t been this relaxed in ages, allowing himself to just fantasize and let his guard down. The only times he ever felt like this before was when he was with… No, even then he didn’t truly feel relaxed. Or at least that was what he told himself.
The Ghostface’s brief moment of respite was interrupted by a familiar feeling of someone running a finger along his spine. Danny got up immediately; At first this feeling had been foreign and uncomfortable, by now he knew what to do, welcoming it.

His tactical knife was stuck inside the wooden table. As Danny pulled it out the blade reflected his face briefly. For a moment, he cursed himself for not cleaning it properly, yet upon further inspection the blood he saw in it was on his face, not on the knife. That wasn’t much of an issue then, he thought.
The Ghostface grabbed his mask from the ‘kitchen’ countertop and put it on, tucking his hair under the hood. Once he was sufficiently covered, Danny unlocked the door of his cabin and made his way to the center of the village. Every single killer had their own cabin of various sizes and styles. It was apparent which were permanently lived in and which were most often empty. The more you succeed in trials, the more the Entity would grant additional luxuries. While Danny’s cabin was still very basic, he knew it would not stay like that very long.

A few killers gazed at him as he passed them by. It was hard to tell whether they were just looking or feeling some particular way about his presence here. Most of them wore masks or had non-human aspects which made them hard to read.
The Ghostface took a seat on a log in the center of the village. There were various seats surrounding an unlit campfire. It’s coals still emitted some heat, although it was perpetually like that. Even then, as Danny waited to be pulled into his next trial, his breath fogged up. This was unusual, yet he knew it to be an indicator of the arena he was going to. As Danny focused on the ice crystals forming within his breath, the world around him began to shift. He instinctively closed his eyes; Traversing between worlds still made him dizzy.

The next time the Ghostface opened his eyes, he was surrounded by slowly falling snowflakes. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground, yet he did not sink into it whatsoever. The crisp air felt refreshing, heightening his senses even more than they already were. This was the place the Legion usually resided. Although he did not know where this place was in the real world, it reminded Danny of the brief stint of murders he committed in rural Alaska. It was in the early years of his career, so he had to learn the hard way that cold weather was not as helpful in covering up his crimes as he had imagined.

Yet now he needn’t worry about covering anything up. As the trial began, the Ghostface briefly took in his surroundings. He was within a small structure on the outskirts of the map. Not a bad place to start, he thought. For now he would patrol the generators around the main building, staying expertly hidden. Avoiding the main building had worked in coaxing the survivors into a false sense of security in his previous trials.

It didn’t take Danny long to find scratch marks near one of the outer generators; the fun just began.

 

[JayCy336]

The Entity’s realm was always addled in a tense silence. There were no birds, no wind and, while there was a large amount of people, everyone had perfected the art of staying quiet. Getting out of survival mode was almost impossible. Letting your guard down was never an option, yet even just concentrating on simple tasks was a challenge. Over the years Moira thought she’d eventually get used to the uncomfortable silence, yet she never did. They could sit in their cabin for hours stitching up clothes and occasionally knitting new pieces, yet their mind was never able to just focus on their craft. It was annoying at best, enraging at worst.

Although recently Moira had found a way to quiet their mind; music. It was a commodity in the realm to own anything that wasn’t necessary for survival, yet with smart trading and care such items could be obtained. Moira had spent weeks doing odd jobs for Nea just to get her busted Walkman, spending even longer scavenging and trading for parts to fix it. They’d know Jake hoarded a large collection of tapes, yet their mind guy was also particularly stingy with trading. He had a weakness, though; He loved to bet. There was a whole pack of survivors that frequently bet on future the arrival of new killers, survivors and even occasionally on the latters’ deaths. Moira wasn’t interested in such distractions, yet she had a keen eye. Before anyone noticed changes in the realms and new keepsakes, Moira bet on the next killer being a stealthy individual. Jake thought they were bluffing and took the bait.
Finally, Moira had something to drown her thoughts. She didn’t even care for what she was listening to, yet the tunes allowed her to be in her own little bubble for a while.

That day, Moira sat on their bed cross-legged, unravelling the fabric of one of the jumpers the Entity provided them. This was the easiest way to get yarn for other projects, although she had to sacrifice a piece of her identity every time she did it. These clothes held memories they no longer had, yet the carefully knit patterns still evoked feelings of home, wherever home had even been.
The blasting music made Moira painfully unaware of her surroundings, so they missed Kate calling them to go on patrol. Their sense of time had been screwed for a while, although none of the survivors were any better at keeping their routines. Finally, Moira noticed the door shaking slightly as someone had apparently knocked. She turned off the music and set aside her current project. Before even getting ready, they pulled open the door, immediately earning a teasing comment from Kate.

“As if you’d ever catch me sleeping voluntarily,” Moira retorted, not stepping out of the cabin just yet. They held up the Walkman, so Kate would understand why they hadn’t heard her. It was still fairly new to her, so she got lost in the music quite a bit.
“Give me a second to get ready,” Moira said, yet kept the door wide open. She slid out of her sheepskin boots and into a much dirtier pair of work boots. As the door was now open, the chilly air entered the cabin. It was just slightly bigger than most of the killer’s cabins, yet it was also intended to house two people. There was a twin-sized bed on either side of the room alongside a small night stand. Moira’s things were on the left side of the room which was neat and minimalistic, yet looked clearly lived in. The other bed was empty as Moira didn’t currently have a roommate. The newbies usually stayed in her cabin, even though their things usually appeared in their intended rooms. It was nice not needing to share her space, although often times established survivors would “crash at her place” when they had conflicts with their respective roommates.

Moira stepped up to their closet while taking of the cozy jumper they were currently wearing. She grabbed a similar black and white one, which had some dirt marks and dried blood on it. In comparison, she had rather few clothes, even though she’d been here for half an eternity.
Moira tucked a thin silver necklace under her jumper; It had a little crescent moon on it. Kate had gifted it to her as it matched the star necklace the songbird usually wore.

Finally, Moira grabbed her coat which had been haphazardly hung over one of the chairs. They stepped up to Kate, shooting her a half smile, sarcastically speaking: “Time for the most fun part of the day.” If one didn’t know her better, Moira could just as easily have meant that.
“Do we take the usual route?”, Moira asked even though they already began walking in the corresponding direction. She had an air of confidence about her that could seem quite uncanny sometimes. Most survivors worried about running into the killers while outside their safe zone, yet Moira appeared unshaken by that prospect. The worst they could do was temporarily kill you, after all. They really didn’t get what the fuss was about, since no established survivors was particularly scared in trials anymore anyway. And there was no way getting killed out of a trial would permanently kill someone. She’d seen too many drifters try to take their own lives to believe that.

Moira wasn’t one to initiate conversation, though around Kate it was a little easier to just talk. They’d been friends for however long the two had been stuck here. At times Moira even thought they’d be more than that some day, yet she quickly realised that was baseless wishful thinking.
“Did you hear anything from the last patrol?,” Moira asked as the two began approaching the membrane between safety and danger. Most of the time the patrols yielded no new information, yet on rare occasions the survivors had things to report. Albeit often times they were exaggerating on the importance of their finds. The most interesting thing Moira had ever found was a rabbit that had got caught in one of the bear traps the Trapper sometimes placed near their village.

 

[MoggieMoof]

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she wandered towards the lodge—perhaps chalet was the better term for it, she thought once she had gotten a bit closer to the building. The icy air nipped at the exposed skin of her shoulder and her neck, and the chill easily seeped through the fabric of her pink, patchy woven sweater, ushering her into the false safety that the chalet could provide her with.

It really came as no surprise to Winnie that the inside of the building was worse for wear. She had entered from the front, and upon walking into the main area of the chalet, she took note of the entry points at the back of the building via doorways, and the entryways on the other two opposing walls. There were no regular doors there though, no, instead there were large, gaping holes that acted as openings. Such openings left plenty of room for the cold air to slip inside, as well as gusts that carried snow into the building, too. Her eyes slowly drifted to the fireplace that was set in the very center of the room, and upon eyeing the length of the flue all the way up to the ceiling, she noticed another hole in the building’s structure there, too.

Picking up the pace, she jogged closer to the fireplace in hopes of warming herself up a bit, and upon getting closer she spotted a machine of sorts, tucked close to the staircase that she had only noticed now. Turning on her heel, she stooped over to peek at the machine, eyes tracing over its make, lifting her head slightly to look at the lights sat atop of a pole, which was also attached to the machine. Oh, wait, this is a generator or something, right? She tipped her head to the side as she watched the lights flicker above her, humming softly in consideration.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a scoff behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to spot a man lumbering his way towards her. Well, not towards her, but towards the machine in front of her.

“Oh.” Was all that Winnie had initially said at the sight of him. When he drew closer, he cast her a brief glance and nothing more before he crouched beside the machine. In that brief moment, she noted the scar that was drawn across the bridge of his nose. “Um, hi. What’re you doing?”

“Something that you should be doing, too.” His voice was gruff, irritated. The words that he spoke hit Winnie like a truck, and in moments she had dropped down onto her knees beside the machine as well, despite not knowing what she was supposed to be doing. To be frank, she really didn’t want to get on this guy’s nerves. The guy looked like he could clobber her into the floor with one right hook, and she didn’t want to entertain the idea of it for much longer than she had to.

Unsure as to what she had to do, she lifted the open panel in front of her, lifting it up and hoping to close it—to no avail, as it only clattered open again with a sharp, metallic clang. Winnie flinched at the sound, and she slowly shifted to look at the man next to her, who gave her a blank look.

“Newbies, go figure.” He uttered to himself, but she had managed to catch it. “There’s wires inside there, don’t know what you did for a living before you got here, but all you gotta do is mess with those a bit. You’ll get used to it eventually, it’ll be like second nature.”

Winnie tilted her head to the side, kind of resembling an uncertain dog as she did so, and she glanced back towards the open panel in front of her. Just as he said, there were an array of colourful wires inside, but… What was she supposed to do with that? “Why are we trying to fix these things in the middle of—well, you know, this place. I don’t… Look, I don’t think I’m understanding what’s going on—”

“Keep your voice down.” The man snapped at her this time, practically hissing at her through his teeth. Winnie faltered at that, not entirely sure what she had done wrong by asking a fairly simple question. At the very least she thought it was simple, but it really wasn’t something that could be answered so easily. “Look, we don’t—God, we don’t have the time for lessons right now. A few rules of thumb: Fix these things, even if you don’t think you can, you’ll sure as hell figure it out. See something freaky? Run, and make sure you help the rest of your team while you’re here.”

“I—what? I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Winnie blurted out quietly, taking his initial warning into account, but still not entirely understanding what he was telling her.

The guy was growing frustrated, she could tell, and just as he went to speak again, a shrill shriek coming from somewhere off in the distance cut him off. A silence hung between them for a moment, with Winnie’s eyes going round and huge with uncertainty, meanwhile the man before her just sighed in exasperation. “Stay here, mess with the wires like I told you to, and don’t get too comfortable in here.”

The man stood after his final words of advice, leaving Winnie a whole lot more confused than she had been before. More confused, a bit frightened, and, oh, still freezing cold. Watching as he took off, heading out one of the exits that definitely weren’t in the blueprint of this place, she stared in silence at the empty space that he left behind for a little while.

Well.

Not sure what else could be done, she decided to do as she was told. Just try to figure out how this thing worked, and more importantly, figure out how playing with these wires would fix anything at all.

---

Kate eyed Moira with curiosity, wondering why else they’d have missed her calling for them to come and meet her outside, but then she saw the walkman in their hand and it all made a bit more sense. Yeah, that checked out. Moira had been eyeing Nea’s old walkman for a while, as well as some of Jake’s old tapes, so Kate was pretty happy when she learned that she’d managed to get her hands on it. Kate was a lover of music in her own right, although she didn’t have a walkman or anything of the like to call her own… She didn’t really need it. She had gotten the name songbird for a reason, after all.

“Take your time.” Nobody was ever in a rush to go on patrol, and nobody would really hassle anyone else based on whether or not their patrols were precisely on time. They had all the time in the world here, what mattered was that the patrol eventually got finished before the next one was supposed to go out. So, with that in mind? Kate and Moira were practically perfectly on time, as far as Kate was concerned, at least.

Rather than inviting herself into the cabin, Kate posted up in the doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing one of her feet over the opposite ankle. Her eyes shifted over the empty half of the cabin for a brief moment before her attention returned to her feet. For as long as Kate could recall, she had shared a cabin with Feng, while Moira had been with and without roommates for just as long. Lucky, but also not. Pros and cons to having roommates constantly coming in and out, in Kate’s opinion, so she was glad that she had some good luck thus far. She and Feng usually got along pretty well, any disagreements between them were pretty few and far between. That isn’t to say that they were entirely unheard of, though, as she had definitely bunked up with Moira a few times in the past.

When the aforementioned person had finally finished getting themselves prepared and ready to head out, Kate cast one of her signature smiles their way before she pushed herself away from the doorframe. “Oh, y’know, I’ve just been waiting for this moment all day long.” She returned the sarcasm, of course, as per usual.

As they headed off to the usual spot that most patrols began their venture, Kate tucked her hands into her pockets, as if this were just a casual stroll among friends. “Yeah, I think that would be our best bet right now—I mean, nobody told us not to go that way, so,”

“Didn’t hear anything necessarily helpful.” Taking a few long strides forward in order to walk several paces ahead of Moira, she spun around on her heel to instead walk backwards in front of them. With a playful grin on her face, she nodded her head towards one of the other cabins as they passed it by–Ace and David’s cabin, to be specific. “Ace said he found something, though—keepsake, so nothing necessarily important important, but, y’know, still worth knowing. The guy and I made a bet ages ago about finding keepsakes, and sure, I haven’t been doing too good, but he keeps dangling that over my head! Not today though, nuh-uh, I’m finding something today to set him straight.”

The over-exaggerated easter egg hunt that she and Ace had going between them had been happening for… Well, probably since Kate got her spark back. It was a pointless, playful rivalry that was probably more effort than what it was worth. That’s how she liked to play it off, at least—both of them did. It was a bit more than that, though. Such simple, playful acts did wonders for their humanity, well, at least it did for Kate. In a way, it kept her grounded. If she could find any sort of joy in life in a place like this, then maybe there was room for hope. Not a lot of people had room for things like that anymore, though, which was why they had more drifters than they had survivors in the grand scheme of things. Kate had room, though. She had plenty of room for hope and more.

With that declaration of hers hanging in the air, she spun around on her heel once more, stopping in her tracks just before they stepped outside of the safe confines of the membrane. For a moment she paused, glancing at Moira as she rolled up the sleeves of her green flannel, pushing them up just past her elbows. “You all ready to get going? I don’t want to get out there and then have to come doubling back ‘cause you forgot somethin’.”

She flashed Moira a knowing grin, because if they were both honest—Kate had an impressive track record of forgetting things back at her cabin. Whether it were for patrols, or even for trials, she’d catch herself sighing with the realization that she had left something behind. Not today, though, Kate was well prepared. She had even remembered an elastic for her hair—hell, she had even managed to tie up her hair before she left her cabin to retrieve Moira, which was a feat in and of itself—which was definitely one of her most frequently forgotten items.

“Honestly, though. Hopefully we have a freak-free patrol, hm?” While it wouldn’t be the first time she had run into anyone on patrol, because everyone had done it at one point, it still wasn’t a pleasant scenario. It definitely got the blood pumping, though, and throwing yourself past the safe bounds of the membrane and being able to look back at those faces beyond the treeline was pretty satisfying. Was satisfaction enough to completely wash away the terror of the moment, though? No, not really.

 

[JayCy336]

Amalgamations of tiny red marks were etched into the makeshift structures surrounding one of the generators. Or at least, the scratches appeared as a trail whenever a survivor had rushed through an area. It was one of the many abilities the entity had provided Danny Johnson. Besides seeing eldritch trails the survivors left, he possessed heightened senses, unnatural strength and a sort of sixth sense which told him where the generators, exit gates as well as the hooks were. As extraordinary as it had made him feel in the beginning, by now Danny had to admit that it did not make him very special. In the grande scheme of things, he was yet another player in the entities roster of entertainers.

The Ghostface’s feet glid over the snow as though he was a lynx. The only sound coming from him was the occasional ruffling of his cloak. By how apparent these tracks were, Danny could tell this was one of the survivors worse at this game. There were a few reoccurring faces with higher skill sets, he’d noticed as much so far. As he peaked around the corner, the Ghostface saw a person working on one of the generators. It was a middle aged woman with curly blonde hair wearing ragged workout clothes. She appeared to be injured even though he hadn’t attacked her whatsoever. He hadn’t seen her before, yet judging by her state she was probably on the verge of fading away.

With soft steps he approached the generator, remaining undetected. It was almost pitiful, yet Danny picked up the nameless survivor with ease. She barely struggled and appeared to be sobbing. He took no pleasure in this, yet putting her on one of the hooks would attract other survivors and halt their overall process. She screamed pathetically, though there was no time to bother paying any attention to her. The generator he had plucked her from was not far, so he took a quick detour back to it. With a swift kick he distributed the components previously fixed by the blonde woman. The machine began blowing sparks and burning itself out. It had more mythical properties than a lot of things in the realm. Somehow the survivors instinctively knew how to fix it. On the other hand, he could simply touch it and it’d begin regressing. It was almost comedic, although he preferred it over having to learn how to actually sabotage such machinery.

Danny turned on his heel to check back on the hooked individual, he hadn’t yet gone back into hiding mode in case there was anyone approaching in an obvious manner. He didn’t get as much enjoyment out of chasing people around as from sneaking up on them, although the act of hunting was growing on him ever so slowly. The first few times it had felt like a tremendous risk as the old alarm bells in his head rung aggressively. Before coming here, Danny couldn’t have afforded people running from him. Even though he was always masked, people that survived his attacks would’ve learned things about him and his hiding places. At best that’d force him to move earlier than planned. At worst they noticed mannerisms and details that’d put the police on his heels. However; in these trials the worst that could happen was someone escaping from his sight for a bit. It was only ever a temporary setback.

As his eyes scanned over the surrounding area, Danny did not notice any tracks or movement. He was almost certain there was someone hiding somewhere within his sight, yet it would only waste time to go around looking for them. For now, the stealth killer would move on.
Only a few seconds had passed after returning to the hooked unfortunate soul, when Danny began walking towards the chalet. He hadn’t started hiding again just yet. The snow quietly crunched under his boots as he was hurrying now. It was a pleasant noise, he thought. His path took him to one of the more enclosed walls of the main building, hoping to bait someone into running from a hiding spot or fumbling upon perceiving danger. It did not yield anything, which pointed to either an experienced survivor being nearby or no one at all.

Even though Danny could hear the generator slowly rumbling inside the main building, he did not go inside just yet. The noise told him it had just been started, so there wasn’t need to hurry and stop it. Danny walked along the outer walls, passing through the area to go towards the shack on the other end of the map. He did not peak inside the windows, although someone paying attention to their surroundings would have probably spotted him. There would come a time where he needed to analyze the various survivors and their individual strengths. For now, Danny’s presence struck enough fear into them that he’d not yet left a trial unsuccessfully. The survivors did not know how to react to his actions, how he thought and liked to strike. The advantage was in his hands and he was savouring every last bit of it; The fear, the paranoia and the frustration. It fuelled him to keep changing his patterns, messing with the survivors perception of him.

Once past the chalet, the Ghostface checked a generator by one of the make-shift structures. It had not been touched yet, although that wasn’t unwelcome. Being semi-obstructed, Danny crouched down moving more stealthily again. This would cause him to be slower, yet possibly sneak up on someone. There were quite a few generators on this side of the map, as he had started out in the shorter area on the other side of the chalet. It was early enough to check all the generators, though. Keeping track of which had been started when wasn’t his strong suit, so the earlier in the trial the more confident he was in searching the areas of partially working generators.
As he approached the shack, the Ghostface noticed the generator inside it was rumbling. There wasn’t a lot of progress made, yet that wasn’t the best indicator whether there was someone close by or not. He didn’t see any scratch marks or signs of movement otherwise, yet Danny took the chance and looked around the area a little closer. Every now and then he would focus back on the hooked survivor in the distance, making sure she was still there.

The Ghostface did not find anyone in or near the killer shack. Just as he was about to move on the tugging sensation of his sixth sense sparked. The blonde woman had been unhooked. As he was about to hurry back, Danny heard a loud noise which announced one of the generators had been completed. It was rather closeby: the progress made on the machine in the shack had been a diversion.

Clever bastards, Danny thought. He remained hidden, yet hurried towards the generator that had just been finished. When he was about to turn the corner, a tall man almost ran into him. The Ghostface did not hesitate and slashed the man across the chest. The survivor gasped painfully, quickly turned and ran, being closely pursued by the masked killer. He was wearing a trenchcoat and had a haircut shaping his black coils into a box.
Danny had not seen this survivor before, yet he assumed the man was one of the more experienced ones. The diversion tactic was clever to get an early generator done, yet it was bound to get the killer on his tail. Perhaps that was what he wanted, though Danny chased him regardless of his intention. He’d drawn blood from the man, it was only appropriate to try and finish the job. The red trail was very apparent in the snow, fuelling Danny’s excitement.

 

[JayCy336]

The survivor cabins were quite monotone only being differentiated by numbers on the respective doors. Moira’s cabin had the number 9 crudely carved in the dark wood. It had either been made by the entity or one of the earliest survivors, though she never asked. It didn’t really matter, especially as everyone knew who lived where. There weren’t that many cabins, so it only ever mattered to newbies. Although it was possible to decorate the outsides of the cabins few survivors actually did it. Paint was hard to come by and any hung up objects were at a risk of being stolen. Thefts weren’t that common, yet Moira still made sure to lock her cabin every time they left it. The key always seemed to be on her person, even if she was sure it hadn’t been placed in that pocket.

As the pair of survivors stepped away from Moira’s abode, they passed a few other cabins. They made their way past a few tents, although there were dedicated paths to the membrane which were kept clear. Moira was so used to people staring at them that they didn’t even notice any more. It had become second nature to always have someone watching, even if it was just the Entity. They’d never stopped perceiving the eldritch god that had trapped them here. It had never felt very threatening, although Moira had also grown very comfortable surrounded by the morbid. They’d held their own guts for god’s sake. It was hard not to grow accustomed to simple acts of getting stabbed.

“Oh please, Ace is probably just bluffing. That’s all he does,” Moira snarked, although she knew there was a little more to it than that. The gambler did not always play fair, even if it was over nothing but bragging rights. Moira suspected some of the keepsakes he ‘found’ were actually once he’d traded for or acquired on supply runs, not from the patrols. She’d seen some of them before, so Ace definitely didn’t find so many keepsakes on patrol. Whether he was spacing them out to play mind games or acquiring them through sketchy ways, Moira did not know. However, they did not plan on telling Kate about any of this. They didn’t want to ruin her fun.

“If we have an uneventful patrol we can always go and clear some bear traps on the path to the MacMillan Estate,” Moira suggested with a shrug: “There’s always keepsakes around that area.” She only suggested it because it wasn’t very far from their safe zone. Outside of trials, barely anyone ever stepped into the traps. They were placed predictably and, without the eminent dangers in a trial, easy to disarm.
“Plus, you can have whatever I spot too. Unless it’s useful for crafting,” Moira added with a thin smile. They didn’t particularly care for the keepsakes, especially not the ones belonging to other survivors. Someone else’s mementos of their time before this place were never particularly useful unless you knew their meaning. Regardless, Moira was pretty good at finding them.
The pair had stepped up to the membrane but not yet gone through. When Kate made a teasing comment about forgetting something, Moira rolled her eyes and groaned. They weren’t the one who tended to forget tools and such, yet they also knew Kate did not think they did.

“I have everything twice in case I have to go on patrol someone forgetful,” Moira snarked back even though she was being fully honest: “Now let’s go.” The blonde nonchalantly stepped outside their safe bounds. A shiver went down their spine, although this wasn’t a pleasant sensation it wasn’t extraordinary either. The entity had a knack for making you feel such invisible changes seamlessly. The membrane wasn’t a visible force field, yet everybody knew exactly were it was. Much like the exit gates at the end of a trial or another survivor that was hooked. It was almost like they could see those things, but they couldn’t really.
“I haven’t died yet,” Moira took a few more steps deeper into the dangerous area, looking at Kate who had not yet followed suit: “Looks like a good chance at a freak-free time, although it’ll be a painfully boring one instead.”

The surrounding trees were exactly the same, although a lot more shrubs and smaller plants took over the forest floor. It was eerily quiet, as always. The bramble bushes were starting to get a little thicker, which was one of the telltale signs of autumn’s nearing grasp. It wouldn’t take much longer before all sorts of tiny mushrooms began sprouting everywhere. Most of them were either inedible or lethal, yet there were a few edible ones too. However, barely anyone took the risk.
Unsurprisingly the first few areas they passed through appeared to be entirely undisturbed and void of any keepsakes.

Nonetheless, Moira spent as much attention to everything as they would if they’d never been here before. Their eyes scanned over the forest floor, making sure to avoid parts where the plants had already been trampled. It wouldn’t be good if paths formed around here, that’d make patrols too predictable. She also checked out the tree trunks, looking for any chips in the bark, caught fabric or hair. There was rarely anything, though when she did spot something it could usually be attributed to the last patrol.
“Sometimes I wonder why the killers don’t spend more time here,” Moira said out of the blue as they’d been trying to remember the last time any killers got close to the campfire.

 

[MoggieMoof]

After the man with the scar had left, it had been… Smooth sailing, Winnie supposed. Although, she couldn’t really determine what ‘smooth sailing’ could be defined as in a place like this. On that same note, she didn’t really know what this place was to begin with. She woke up in some sort of campsite, maybe? Well, she woke up on the outskirts of what could be considered a campground, given all of the cabins and the campfire. So, that’s where she had initially been, before she was swept away by some kind of fog. Then, the next thing she knew, she was here. In an entirely different climate, with entirely different buildings—hell, she had never even seen this place before.

Even after retracing her steps within this supposed dream, she couldn’t quite place why she would ever dream of such a place… Or why she would even dream of such odd circumstances.

Usually, her nightmares were pretty predictable. They always followed the same outline, enough for her to know what was coming for her, but not enough for her to be completely immune to the fright that it would always bring her. This, though, didn’t follow that outline at all…

Did it really matter, though? That’s what she found herself wondering while she tinkered away at the generator before her, still not entirely certain if she was doing this properly, but at the very least she knew that she was making progress. At least, she hoped that would explain the pistons that were moving above her head… Either way, she wasn’t sure if wondering about the intricacies of her dream would help her out very much, if at all.

Maybe this meant that she was growing past the fears that she had held onto for the past few weeks. If she wasn’t dreaming about the possible return of the man that had terrorized her hometown, then that meant she was getting better, right? Realistically, it was far too soon for something like that. Healing. Forgetting. Growing past what had happened—her own affiliations. It’s not like she had been aware of her personal entanglement… Well, who she was truly getting tangled up with, to be more specific.

Just then, the sound of a machine kicking into high gear sounded from somewhere outside of the chalet. It had kind of shocked her, because she didn’t realize that there were other machines like this one, but in hindsight she probably should have assumed such a thing, right? Either way, no matter her prior assumptions, the sound had kind of frightened her, in all honesty. She hadn’t been expecting it at all, and her entire body had jolted upwards at the sound, suddenly pulling her hands away from the wires that she had been holding, tugging them a little too hard for the machine’s liking.

The generator sputtered in front of her, pulling her away from her thoughts rather violently. She lifted a hand and turned away rather abruptly, hissing as the generator lit up with sparks before her. The sparks gave off a brief, bright light, as well as some heat that had been oddly appreciated by the woman working on the machine itself. It probably wasn’t within her best interest to be causing sparks to fly like this, but it was a simple mistake on her end.

Nonetheless, she paused after it had happened, glancing over her shoulder to see if the incident would garner any kind of attention, wanted or otherwise. After a moment of Winnie’s eyes darting from entryway to entryway, she came to the conclusion that nobody was very intent on stepping foot inside of the chalet. Not any of her teammates that the man from before had told her about, and certainly not anything ‘freaky’, as he had so eloquently described.

Shifting back into her previous position on the floor, she resumed her tedious tinkering—because, what else was there for her to do?

It had been a little while until she had heard anything else or even seen anyone, and first came the distant scream. This time, she could recognize that it was a man, and she frowned at the idea that it came from the man who had helped her. Well, ‘helped’ her. He didn’t stick around for very long, and had given her some pretty vague, mysterious words of advice before he disappeared out into the snow, from where he had initially come from. Even so, she understood that he was trying to help her out a bit, even if he had seemed pretty irritated while doing it.

Suddenly, there were footsteps approaching ahead of her, just beyond the staircase to her left, and she pulled her hands away from the wires before her as quickly as she could, ensuring that she wouldn’t make the same mistake that she had made last time when she had gotten frightened. Grabbing at the side of the generator, she hauled herself to the other side of it, a meek attempt at tucking herself against the wall to hide—and then, a very unimpressed, familiar face appeared from around the corner of the generator.

“It’s you!” Winnie whispered out, sounding almost shocked at the man’s reappearance.

“Yeah.” The man with the scar across the bridge of his nose uttered, before he nodded towards the generator, hissing and popping with more life than when he had left. “Heard this thing burst, came to see if you got scared and ran off or not.”

“Oh,” Was Winnie’s initial response as she slowly sat up again—he thought that she wasn’t going to get the job done! Which, fair, she supposed. She wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to get it done herself, in all honesty. “Well, I’m pretty sure what you said to me earlier meant, don’t leave unless something forces you out.”

The man gave both a shrug and a nod, which was confusing, really, but she decided to just take that as a lazy yes.

“Try to finish this up, but try not to fuck it up again. They know when you fuck it up. Got it?” With a harsh point to the generator, he flaked out again, probably heading off to do whatever else was important here. Make sure you help the rest of your team while you’re here. Maybe that’s what he had been up to this whole time? Well, she supposed yes, because he had been trying to help her, even if he hadn’t been incredibly kind about it. Help was help.

Winnie gave a nod, unsure what else she was to say to her “babysitter” for the time being. Although she didn’t give a verbal response, the nod seemed to be enough for him, as he returned the gesture and took off again, this time heading out of the chalet, in the direction that the most recent scream had come from.

---

In a place like this, you have to adapt quickly to get comfortable within your surroundings. At least, as comfortable as you can possibly get here. This realm wasn’t necessarily the most comforting place by any means, but when you’ve been here for so long, you eventually have to find some sources of comfort in it for yourself. Otherwise, your chances of survival are practically slim to none—Kate would know, as she had nearly faded away entirely. The whole experience had made the woman more thankful for what most people would never feel gratitude for.

For example, right now. That odd feeling of exposure, as if something is watching your every move? Well, Kate chose to think on the bright side. If she could experience such an unnerving feeling, at least it meant that she was alive. Well, as alive as you could be here. Kate wasn’t sure if she’d consider this place a land of the living, or a land of the perpetually dead—so perhaps it was better to word it this way: at least it meant that she wasn’t gone.

“And if he is bluffing, then that’ll just make my inevitable win all the more enjoyable, don’t’cha think?” At the very least, Kate thought so. Somehow managing to have the upper hand over someone who has maybe lied and cheated their way to a win made the whole bet between them infinitely more enjoyable.

With her hands neatly tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, she allowed her head to roll from shoulder to shoulder, pausing for a moment as she did so to eye Moira as they walked, taking her words into consideration. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, finding their words to be oddly endearing, in a way that only Kate would find sweet. “Aw, you’ll give me whatever you find? Well, aren’t you sweet,”
Yes, she heard what Moira had added about any finds that would help with her crafting. It was a very fair deal in her opinion. Kate wasn’t one for crafting herself—in theory she could, she just preferred to make use of herself in other ways. Besides, Moira was practically their resident craftsperson, so Kate would happily leave activities of that caliber to them.

After hearing Moira’s snarky remark, Kate could only toss her head back with a good-natured, ha! She couldn’t help but laugh simply because, well, Moira got her there. She didn’t toy with the topic for much longer after that, though, choosing to move on just as they had. They had a job to do, so, there was no room for Kate to continue lollygagging (although, she would probably end up doing so on the patrol itself).

For a few moments, Kate stood on the safe side of the membrane. It’s not that she was scared or anything of the sort, no, she had been out there on patrols dozens upon dozens of times. Sometimes she just needed a moment to take a breath, and then she could take the next step out. A short-lived chuckle slipped past her lips at Moira’s comment, haven’t died yet, and thus she took it upon herself to set foot outside of the membrane’s safety. The chill that immediately washed over her was a familiar experience, but it shook her to her core every time it happened. She had thought that she’d be able to get used to it by now, with all of the time that she spent here, but it chilled her to the bone every time she took a single step out into the entity-concocted-wilderness. If she had to describe the feeling, she’d say that it was an icy chill that washed over you like a frigid gust of wind.

“Can’t say I mind having a boring patrol, just as long as it’s a safe one.” For all of her confidence, Kate would much prefer to avoid running into any one of those guys if she were able to choose to do so. In all honesty, though, she wasn’t too worried about running into anyone out here. It had been a while since any killers had come creeping around outside of the membrane, in fact, it had been a while since any of them had come within the area period. The only signs of activity that they ever came across were traps, but they never actually saw the big, burly culprit of those traps.

As the patrol unfolded, Kate kept close to Moira as she walked, but she did stray away a few times if she thought she caught sight of something interesting. So far, it had happened twice, but upon closer inspection both things turned out to be nothing of interest, and nothing that was worth anybody’s while. Boring.

“Huh?” Was Kate’s initial response, blurted out as soon as she had heard Moira’s thoughtful comment. The songbird placed both of her hands on her hips, leaning her weight onto her left leg as she pondered the thought herself. Did the killers have any business lurking around here other than to spook, and possibly harm, the survivors? Well, she supposed that was all that they did around here anyway, so did they really want to do that outside of trials too? Ah, stupid question—they were killers, after all.
“Maybe their space is more enjoyable than ours.” As far as Kate was aware, nobody had really investigated the place that the killers resided. Too dangerous, too freaky—if anyone had ever drawn near it by accident, they had fled the scene as quickly as they had come across it. “I wonder what they do during their free time. Do you think their community is like, uh, like ours?”
The question that she herself had proposed made her laugh. “I mean, probably not, right? I can’t imagine them sitting in a circle around the fire, sharing stories—well, actually, I can’t imagine any of them sitting around a fire together, period.”

Highly doubtful, in Kate’s humble opinion. The survivors had become generally tightly knit, given the fact that they had to work together on the daily. The killers on the other hand had to do no such thing—God, that sounded lonely. Kate could almost feel bad for them. Emphasis on almost.
Even if the killers mostly did their work solo, surely they talked to each other outside of trials, right? Vaguely communicated with one another? It would get pretty lonely without any sort of companionship at all, but she also couldn’t really… Imagine the killers having companions at all. It was difficult to humanize beings that were either a) not humans at all, or, b) the most monstrous humans you’d ever come across in your life.