Multiple Settings The Loop | IC | Timeline 1

[elytra]

Kristi 'Coop' Cooper​

Location: The Wilkman Residence
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly ), Earl ( Kattzillaa )
Mentions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter )

Sonic was nothing if not tempting. Even more tempting was the concept of putting the entire night behind her, because frankly, it had soured very quickly. It was enough to basically convince her never to even think of going to a party again, despite the fact it hadn't really been the party's fault. She re-adjusted her sketchbook in her lap, gripping the sides in order to keep the loose slip of notepad paper securely inside it. Maybe if they left, the entire thing would be forgotten about. Then, she could call Ryan tomorrow or something and Delia wouldn't need to know and it would all work out. It was a little sneaky, which was more 'sneaky' than she usually did, but she had been invited to call Ryan and it would be rude not to, right? Sure, Delia didn't like him, but just because Delia didn't like someone didn't mean Cooper was banned from talking to them. She had a right to form her own opinions. She'd just need to be careful about it.

Like, really careful.

She must've looked like someone just kicked her dog, because Earl was asking her if she was alright, and Delia was holding out a hand to her, and alright it was time to lay this night to rest. This was as clear a sign as any. She was about to say she was fine and grab Delia's hand, but that was cut off by a familiar, loud screeching noise, which caused her hand to shoot back in favor of covering her ears. It was prolonged and made her ears ring, and the siren that sounded afterwards didn't help. It was agonizing. She didn't have much time to really take hold of the situation when a bright, blue light flashed, and suddenly everything went black.

August 16th, Loop 1 of ???​

Location: The Cooper Residence
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly ), Earl ( Kattzillaa ), Tammy ( cadence ), Skylar ( Jewel )
Mentions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter )

And then Cooper woke up to You Make My Dreams (Come True) playing from the alarm clock set on her bedside table, snuggly under her covers as if she had never been at a party in the first place.

She turned to her side, staring at the offending object. If it was to be believed, then it was currently 8 am. That in itself wasn't unusual; she got up at 8 every morning for the sake of having some semblance of a schedule. What was unusual was the choice of song. There was little chance that the radio station she had it set to was playing the same Hall & Oates song at the same time as it had yesterday. Taking that into account along with all that happened at the party....well, it wasn't looking good. She reached out from under the safety of her covers, hitting the snooze button a little harder than necessary, before throwing her comforter off of her and getting out of bed.

With purpose that she hadn't had the previous morning, she marched over to her desk, which sat right below her window, and opened one of the drawers. She shuffled through the contents, which was already a bad sign; her planner should have been right on top, seeing as it was the last thing she'd used before the party. She took out some notebooks, tossing them on the desk with little regard, before finding what she was looking for. It was a small thing, though very brightly colored. There was a duck on the front, surrounded by stickers she'd placed on there herself, most of which were the puffy sort. She flicked it open and sure enough, all days up to the 16th had been neatly x'd out. She set it back down on her desk more carefully than she had been handling anything else that morning.

She wasn't going to assume anything without checking one last thing. She crouched down, pulling her backpack over to her and digging out her sketchbook, which was a lot more unassuming than her planner was. If she found what she expected to find, that would confirm her suspicions, which she considered the worst case scenario. If she didn't...well, the situation was probably still bad since she had effectively blacked out and all, but it was less bad than the alternative. She took a deep breath in, then out, before opening the book. Sure enough, both the drawing of Ryan as well as the phone number were gone.

Grimacing, she closed it again, stashing it away in her bag. Alright. So, it was seeming like the day had completely restarted. Part of her wanted to freak out a little, because the day had restarted, but another part was feeling giddy. She'd had this experience before, minus the whole blacking out and day restarting thing. The light was familiar, so were the grating noises, seeing as they'd happened a little over a year ago. At the time, she'd thought it was just normal Boulder nonsense, and she'd been a little preoccupied with other things, but maybe it wasn't a coincidence.

Maybe it was connected to Henry, somehow.

It was better than anything else she'd had for the last year. After a few months, nobody else had been much help and mentioning the fact that she didn't think he was dead was an easy way to look at her in the pitying sort of way she wanted to avoid. So, she'd been looking into things on her own. Except, there wasn't really anything to look into. She'd combed practically everywhere she could think of and come up with nothing. This, though? This might end up being something.

Instinctively, her eyes glanced towards where she kept a photo of Henry and herself, pinned to the wall near her closet. The picture was from a few years ago, when Cooper was 15 and Henry had been 9, and they'd just finished something having to do with paint. She didn't remember what it was, but it was obvious, considering they both looked like they were dunked in it. It was a little well-loved, with signs of being folded down the middle and a bit of a tear near one of the corners.

Or, that was usually what it looked like.

Frowning, she got up, wandering over to it and taking it down from the wall. Well, that was new. The picture was completely different than it had been; for one, it was much newer. There was no tear and no sign it had ever been folded, and it looked a lot less faded. The second difference was that photo-Cooper seemed a lot younger than 15, sporting the sort of haircut she'd had when she was 11. The third difference was perhaps the most jarring: the other person in the image was not Henry.

He looked about her age, with curly dark brown hair and tan skin and a pair of clubmaster glasses. He was smiling widely at whoever was taking the photos, enough that dimples were showing, and his arm was around younger Coop, who was also grinning at the camera. Both were still covered in paint, and it was reminiscent of the old photo, but Cooper had no memories of ever taking part in such a thing. She didn't recognize the man and she certainly didn't remember taking a picture with him. The fact that he looked similar to her made the entire thing even more odd. She flipped the photo over, looking at the date that was messily scrawled on the back in handwriting that wasn't her own: June 5th, 1983.

She considered it a few moments longer, before being brought back to the present by her clock deciding to start playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She shook the photo a few times, as if that would change what it looked like, before pinning it up again for safe keeping, this time having the image facing towards the wall. She really didn't find herself in the mood to be staring at it. Then, she shut off the clock completely and started to get ready for the day.

It took longer than expected. It certainly took longer than it had taken the previous morning (or, more accurately, the previous version of the morning) because this time, she had goals in mind. Instead of her usual attire, she tore through her drawers to find something better suited for running around Boulder, eventually settling on some overalls and a tank-top. She pulled her hair back into a short ponytail and put in some colorful clips to hold her bangs back, then tugged on her hiking boots in preparation for what she assumed would be a very eventful day, if the morning had been any indication.

She'd been in the process of laying out the parts of Boulder she was going to look into on her map when she started to hear shouting and banging and things pelting on her window. She got up from her desk, looking outside and oh, there was another rock. She couldn't really see what was happening, but she heard her name, and that was sign enough that something was going on that needed her attention. She folded up the map, putting it on her pocket, and shouldered her bag. Then, she was out the door, but not before grabbing the photo from the wall and pocketing it. Just in case.

She ran down the stairs, past her parents who looked about as irritated as she would expect them to be with the commotion. She flashed them a guilty smile, before heading for the front door, throwing it open. That's when she got the view of 4 people right there, which was certainly hadn't happened on the previous version of the day. Delia looked...bad, to say the least, while it seemed Earl had been the one throwing rocks, though she saw some evidence that rocks had also been thrown at him, that evidence being that she'd seen Tammy chuck some gravel at him right when she'd opened the door. Skylar was also there, looking irritated, which she imagined was because of all the yelling. Her eyes flickered between the individuals in the group, and she was sure that she looked a bit baffled.

"Uh.....hi, guys?" She said slowly, not sure how to take the scene in front of her, taking a step outside and shutting the door behind her to keep her parents from getting more pissed off. Then, she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. If this was different from what happened last August the 16th, then maybe she wasn't the only one effected by this. She wasn't about to ask right off the bat, though; she didn't want to seem crazy. "Why are we all on my lawn? And shouting. And throwing rocks at my window."

She eyed them all, trying to figure out what their deal was. Half of them were clearly panicked, which would maybe make sense if they weren't panicked about her. It wasn't like the time loop had anything to do with her in particular, if it had happened to them as well. But she supposed she'd get her answers soon enough.

 

[cablebelly]

DELIA CARRON
Cooper Household - mentions: GrieveWriter ryan - interactions: elytra Coop cadence Tammy Jewel Skylar Kattzillaa Earl

Delia hadn’t meant to cause a neighborhood commotion.

Sure, she had gotten a little wrapped up in worst case scenarios. The lack of memory on her parents' part could mean a lot of things. After all, they eroded their minds every day and she wouldn’t exactly put it past them to forget an entire Sunday. But this time it felt different, unlike one of their drug induced stupors. And the disappearance of the etching in her bedpost? Delia wasn’t crazy. She knew that was there, she knew it had to be there. And the fact that it wasn’t had her feeling all sorts of twisted. Days didn’t just disappear. Days didn’t just rewind.

It was only logical of her to go to the one girl that claimed Boulder always did strange things, right? Not to mention it was Coop’s initials that had disappeared, not the entire thing. It felt like the universe was almost egging Delia on to speak to her friend, and the insanity of it all made it feel like an urgent matter. Like if she didn’t, she’d be too late.

She had been so lost in her head, pounding on the door and blatantly panicking, that the voice that came up behind her made her jump nearly three feet in the air. Head whipping around sharply, Delia faced the freckled boy with wide, bleary eyes. He had the audacity to come up and knock right beside her, and Delia stumbled back, frazzled by his sudden appearance. She barely knew the guy, really, only that Coop liked to show kindness to the outcasts like him. That was just what she did.

“...What the fuck?” Delia muttered, watching him start to throw pebbles and cringing at every inch of contact. What the hell did Earl care about Coop? Why did he have the same exact instinct to run straight to her door? Her stomach churned, but she tried to shake off the daze of questions and open her mouth once more to tell him to quit throwing rocks, when another voice appeared behind her.

This time, a little bit more of a welcome face, though it did little to relax her rigid posture, stuck like a deer in headlights. Of course, the Wiley house was right down the way, and she should’ve thought a bit better to start screaming in front of it, lest she draw out Skylar, but her mouth fell open further as she took in his face.

Unblemished.

“Your… you… the fight?” Delia sputtered. “Your face?” Her look of bewilderment continued, leaving the front steps fully to run right up to Skylar and stare at him from up close. Her unfocused eyes darted across his complexion, trying to find any semblance of the bruising and swelling that had marred his features what felt like minutes ago. “I… gave you peas.” A hand came up, still unbelieving that it had all just disappeared, and reached out to touch his cheek. It didn’t make it there.

The sound of screeching tires whipped Delia around once more. "What the fuck, Delia?" The voice of Tammy rang out, skidding across Coop’s lawn without an inch of care. For a second, her heart jumped with hope, wondering if Tammy’s urgent appearance meant she was experiencing the same strange deja vu. But then she started throwing rocks at Earl.

If she had any sanity left, she would have probably laughed. But Delia looked drained. She had woken up maybe twenty minutes ago and the light of the day had not even begun to settle in on her. She had no answers, so many questions, and so much people and commotion. Earl, why he was here she could not understand, seemed to be just as worried about Coop’s presence as Tammy was, who had the audacity to lift what had to be her father’s car and speed it into the front lawn she felt something urgent had happened. Skylar might have heard a commotion, might have felt something strange, but the lack of bruises on his face? How did that make any sense? He would’ve been black and blue for days.

Tammy would know, right? After she came to her senses a bit and stopped fucking with the sorry homeless dude. If Tammy didn’t think this was some time travel fuckery, then Tammy would have been the one to get her home, tuck her into bed, and maybe pay her parents twenty bucks to look at her crazy and change her bedpost or something. And if Tammy wouldn’t know, Coop would know. Coop always claimed that there were greater forces at work in Boulder, strange tidings, movie plot worthy shit.

Her thoughts drifted to Coop’s brother, Henry. How Delia had tried to politely entertain every one of Coop’s theories of her brother's disappearance. It was the obvious coping mechanism, and Delia knew there was always weird shit going on in this town. Especially with Coop watching her parents go off to work every day at the strange place that was the Loop. It made sense that Coop would think that. Delia would have never discredited her thoughts, especially not pertaining to her brother, especially because she’d been there that night.

Why was she thinking about that now? Maybe because she suddenly felt inclined to believe all of Coop’s theories, which she’d only just barely entertained up until this moment. On the other hand, maybe she would go back, find she’d hallucinated the missing initial, and that Coop had finally gotten to her and made her lose her marbles too. She did already look like a crazy person, and Delia began to recognize the looks that both Tammy and Skylar were giving her. What’s wrong with you?

Thankfully, the door swung open then, and Cooper’s bright face stopped most of the commotion in their tracks. She looked baffled. Baffled because there were four rowdy teens causing a ruckus on her doorstep, or because they were becoming the main characters in a horror movie? Both? Neither? Why wasn’t Coop spouting theories already! If anything, Coop looked sort of giddy. Other than the confusion on her face at the sight of all of them, she had a sort of glow to her. The type of glow she got when she had found something strange in the woods, some theory to drag Delia investigating on, the glow of something’s amok in Boulder and I love it.

Delia bounded up the steps of their porch again, right up to the girl. Cooper might not have wanted to seem crazy, but Delia had already found herself past that point. Staring wild-eyed at Coop, she jabbed a thumb back at Skylar, and announced, “Look at his face!” It was the only quantifiable proof she had that the previous day had somehow swallowed itself whole. “No bruises! No fight! Coop, you were there, right? Right? I-I told you we would go get Sonic, a-and you just talked to jock supreme Ryan, and Skylar got beat to shit, and I drove Tammy there…”

She turned around to face the other three who had gathered on Cooper’s lawn, and threw her hands in the air. “Do any of you remember the fucking party?!”

 

[Jewel]

Hours Until Catastrophe: 11​

Date: August 16, 1983
Location: Collisions Repair Autobody & Paint
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: N/A
Collab Post Sponsored By Jewel & cablebelly
________________________________

It was not a laughing matter. Pranks, to Cara, were serious business. Because no, she wasn’t just talking about putting tape on light-switches or baking meatloaf into muffins. None of that kiddy stuff. To mention pranks to Cara was to cause her to recall the dead squirrel in her locker freshman year. To the ten frogs safety-pinned to her gym bag. To the fake blood on her homecoming dress, to the re-sealed chip bags full of roaches, to the missing chunks of hair, to the untrust of the entire school, to the suspicion that anyone, everyone, could be a helper to the devious plots of Steven Carmichael.

Which was her motivator to get him back. And tonight, oho, tonight. Tonight she would make him pay. She would play the nastiest, most sinister, diabolical prank on Steven Carmichael. A prank he would moan about for years to come. A prank to stop him in his pranking tracks and put an end to the torment that had followed Cara all through her highschool years. And maybe then she could sit back and enjoy her senior year, smug with the knowledge that Steven fucking Carmichael would never again dare to mess with anyone, ever again.

“Oh, Benny,” she called in a cheerful sing-song voice, approaching him where he worked at a slight jog. She’d just finished her mile, having gone around the block to end back up at her pop’s autobody shop. Even in the early morning the heat was blistering. Cara sported a pair of shorts and a white Culture Club t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a short bun and stashed into a gray baseball cap. Benny’s lower half was unmistakable from under the body of a third-generation Ford Mustang.

She slowed upon her approach, lifting her cap to wipe the sweat from her brow. “You’re here early.” Sneakers came to a halt beside the car. “You’ll never guess what tidbit of invaluable information I acquired this morning.” She had a wide, mirthful, if not a little snarky smile. “I found out that a certain someone is going to be making an appearance at one Janice Wilkman’s party tonight. You wanna guess who? I’ll give you a hint.” She leaned forward, smile unwavering. “It begins with the letter S and ends with the letter Teven Carmichael.”

At this point in his stint in Boulder, the three year anniversary just recently having passed, Benny Taylor had finally managed to find the areas in this town he was comfortable in. The patch of woods behind his mother’s house. The roof, sometimes, where he had his newly purchased telescope. And the Demonte autobody shop had to be near, if not at the top of his list. There were few things that calmed him as much as the inner workings of a car, and in the auto shop, the world seemed still except for the growl of engines and the whir of tools, all pleasant sounds to Benny’s ears. To boot, the Demonte family had been nothing but kind to him, and Cara had become one of his closest friends in the short time he’d been here.

Overall, it was no surprise to find Benny at the shop earlier than normal, covered in grease and with his nose in the hood. The heat had already settled in, so he was down to just his sleeveless undershirt and already dirtied jeans. Benny wasn’t much of a shorts guy. Today, though, with the anxiety of senior year finally being tangible enough to weigh on him like a brick, he was intent on busying his hands and mind as much as possible today, hence his position under the third generation Mustang. He had been working quietly, tongue between his teeth in concentration, when the sing-song voice of Cara rang out.

Oh no. He had expected to see her sooner or later, and figured that maybe their last day before senior year began could be spent cracking open cream sodas and throwing pebbles at the lake. Of course, such a casual kick off to the year was not in Cara’s style, especially not with the name Steven Carmichael spilling from her lips. Despite being there for most every development of the war that raged on between the two of them, Benny still didn’t understand why. Why it both bothered her and thrilled her so much, and why Steven Carmichael kept on doing it too! At this point, Benny knew the only thing that would get them to quit it would likely be their own graduation, if they didn’t blow up the school before then.

Rolling out from under the car with a playful frown, as much as Benny could muster, at least, he shook his head and wiped his brow. His face was already stained with grease, but it seemed to paint his skin in a way that suited him. “Hiya. Just wanted to get an early start.” He said first, sitting up and putting down the tools that he’d held in his hands, now looking at her fully. “Y’know, I bet Steven Carmichael is just tryin’ his best to enjoy the last day of summer. Like we could be, eh?” He scratched the back of his head, and then gazed up at her with a vague pleading look in his eye. “Get soda? Skip rocks on the lake? Not anything to do with poor ol’ Carmichael?” Seriously, Benny was feeling bad for the dude. But Cara usually knew that Benny would follow her anyway, if only to play lookout and make sure she didn’t get into any real trouble.

“And let the devil incarnate walk the streets freely? Benjamin,” she shook her head in mocking dismay, “We cannot let this opportunity slip away from us. This is the kind of chance that only comes around once in a thousand years.” She grinned at him, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t need to read his face to know of the hesitation he had when following her into such situations. But his hesitance did nearly nothing to dissuade her from her scheming and plotting, already feeling confident that this prank was going to be her greatest yet. And she was never one to be easily deterred from a great prank.

“Ol’ Carmichael is going to finally surrender after this prank we pull. And then, Benny,” she smirked, “then we can skip rocks and get soda all year long. Aren’t you tired of living in fear of Steven Carmichael? Remember that time he superglued your locker shut?” In all fairness, Steven had done that to Benny to get at Cara, but Cara thought Benny should’ve been taking it a little more personally. “Or- or the time he stole your gym clothes and left them on the floor in the girl’s locker room? The time he took the screws from your desk chair so it toppled when you tried to sit down? What about the time he wrote that love letter to Sarah Peirson but addressed it from you and she went all psycho on you?” Cara thought a little fuel for fire would help rally her troops. “Don’t you know-- if we don’t put him in his place, nobody will! It’s up to us to stop him before he does it again. You and me, Benny. Ride or die.” she extended her hand out to him. “You may be inclined to let him walk all over you but so help me if I won’t stand for it. Now come help me, and be a hero, or else you can be a coward and succumb quietly.”

At the recounting of all the pranks that Benny had suffered by association with Cara, a deep scarlet blush overtook his features, painting him red under the black stains of grease. The superglued locker? Minimal damage. The toppling desk chair? Vaguely painful. The gym clothes in the girl’s locker room? Extremely terrible. He had been red with embarrassment the entire day and their giggles and screams entered his nightmares often. The love letter to Sarah Peirson? A visible shudder overtook him at the memory. He had never seen a girl so angry, especially through all the tears that she had cried which he, to this day, did not know if they were happy or sad tears, because she sounded like she was choking when she cried. The memory haunted him deeply, and thus, Cara had managed to stir the tiniest bit of flame in Benny’s reluctant heart.

“Devil incarnates don’t much like to surrender.” He muttered, staring at her open hand with a bit of a defeated slouch in his posture. Then, he took her hand and used it to hoist himself upright. Despite the amazing difference in height between them, a solid foot, she was sturdy in her ways and in her stature, and Benny never discounted her. “Alright, I’ll help. But I ain’t gonna be happy about it.” He puffed, trying to shake off all the bad memories she had brought up. “What’s your plan, then? When’s the party, anyhow?” He paused. “We’re not gonna actually go in to the party, right?” Benny’s nose scrunched at the thought. He didn’t much like parties, all the noise and the booze and the wasted teenagers. Not quite his scene. He imagined that Cara’s plan involved many things he didn’t much like, though. Not like he had too big of a choice.

“That’s the spirit,” she laughed, helping him to his feet. “And to answer your questions. We’re not actually going inside, no. But yes, the party is tonight. And my plan… well.” she had that dangerous, mischievous look in her eye. The unruly kind of look that so frequently landed them in trouble. “I’ll tell you all about it. But first, I’m starving. Let’s hit up the Ralphs and get some snacks.” She picked up a towel draped over a toolbench and tossed it to him. “And after that we can hit the pool. Where we’ll meet my informant.”

Benny caught the towel with a quick reaction, likely to the amount of sports he’d been playing since getting to Boulder. It didn’t do much in the way to stifle his cringe in response to her words, and that look in her eye he knew all too well. “Oh boy.” He mumbled, dragging the towel across his face. “Your informant. This is gonna be an eventful last day, ain’t it?”

 

[Jewel]

Skylar Wiley
Location: The Cooper Residence
Interactions: cablebelly cadence elytra
Mentions: Kattzillaa
______________________________________________________________

Christmas must’ve come early this year. To what did he owe the pleasure of being nearly run over by Tammy Torrez’s tonka truck?

It wasn’t that he disliked Tammy Torrez. He barely knew her, aside from the times Delia would mention her. The two were pretty close. Conjoined at the hip, maybe. But Skylar had a nose for trouble. And Tammy was just the kind of unnecessary trouble he tried to avoid at school so’s not to be associated with the partygoers and troublemakers. Sure, he could be a menace to the American Public School System. But Tammy? Tammy made it an artform. She could cause trouble like no one he’d ever seen before. She made his scorching temper look like a dwindling matchstick, and his aggression toward other students like a calm breeze. Even now, throwing herself out of her truck, only to scoop up a handful of rocks to hurl them at Earl Ashbridge.

Speaking of Earl. Skylar was curious to know why the fuck this kid had decided to run his ass down here at fuck o’ clock in the morning to hurl rocks at the Cooper residence. There were times where Skylar became concerned that Earl was a little screwed up in the head. And then there were brief moments in between those times where Earl struck him as peculiarly, perturbingly in-the-know. But it was mostly the former. Mostly he opted not to worry too much about it.

Speaking of worry. Delia was deeply worrying him, he inching back for every foot she came forward until she was examining him closely, her wide, bug-eyed gaze fixed on his face. Her hand was moving. Was she going to touch his face? Was she high? Was is something else? Skylar was petrified and utterly bewildered, his eyes darting from her gaze to her hand, her hand which was moving toward his face, and the heat was rising, and his brow furrowed, and he almost reached his hand to grab her by the wrist, to stop the action from the girl who was freaking him the fuck out.

And full circle, that’s when Tammy showed up. He was still standing there with his fingers tensed when Coop emerged from her house. Delia left him alone to his meltdown to join Coop on the porch, and Skylar’s short-circuiting brain left him no other option than to stand there and stare at the both of them. He had absolutely no idea what Delia was talking about, but he racked his brain anyway. Had he gotten into a fight recently? He didn’t think so. Not one Delia would’ve been present for anyway. And a party? Now she was just making things up. Skylar avoided parties like the plague. And he knew for a fact he hadn’t gotten high and visited one on some whimsy-baked curiosity venture.

He breathed a sigh but remained firmly planted where he had halted. “Delia, what the fuck are you talking about?” He wanted to dispute her, to assure that all she was spewing was crazy, and it must’ve been some crazy dream she’d had. But he couldn’t shake the uncertainty he felt. He knew he hadn’t gone to any party. But he’d never seen Delia look so distressed. He wasn’t sure telling her she was crazy would calm her down. And Coop didn’t look especially alarmed, so, maybe she knew what was going on with Delia.

“Fuck this.” He felt in over his head with disconcertment. Delia was his friend, but her current state was becoming an overwhelming source of distress for him. And this was not to mention the presence of Tammy, who already made him nervous. His brain rationalized that the smartest move might’ve been to dip before Delia went into hysterics and then get the scoop from Coop at a later date. With that thought, he took a step back, half-way turning away. “Delia, you’re kind of freaking me out. I’m going to go home. Uh. Maybe stay with Coop for a while?” He looked at Coop, maybe silently seeking affirmation that this was okay. “She’ll take care of you.” This felt out of his realm of assistance. Probably time to let the dog out anyway.

 

[smolfluffball]

Story and Ryan
Collab post by smolfluffball and GrieveWriter
[ Location: Langdale Manor | Interactions: Stella and Ryan | Mentions: Party-goers from last night. ]
August 16th, morning. Looped day number One. ​

Story woke up to something heavy leaning over him. There was a familiar scent infiltrating his nose and he reached a hand up and pushed away whatever dog it was who had ran into his room. His hand hit the open, panting mouth above him and he squinted against the sunlight in his room and groaned. He could feel the saliva on his fingers and saw Deacon was the one who came to wake him up. He wiped the dogs’ slobber against his furry forehead and looked at the clock near his bed, but then froze. What the fuck.

It wasn’t the time that got his attention. He didn’t care about the time. He looked back at his dog, who was now sitting on his bed, waiting for Story to say good morning to him. Instead of that, Story pointed to his wall. “Did Stella paint my room while I was away last night?”

Deacon, being a dog, did not respond.

Story didn’t need him to. Every wall in his room was a forest green. He never would have painted them such a vibrant color. They, normally, were a soft blue color. He studied them, trying to figure out why his sister would do this. It was so well done. It looked dry and there weren’t any smudges anywhere. How could she have done this while he was away at the party? He hadn’t been out that long, had he? How late did he get home? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember?

Deacon scooted closer to Story over his massive bed and nudged his face, licking him once. Story smiled and scratched behind his ears, then saw his door was open. That was how Deacon had gotten in. Charisma was laying outside of it, but he saw her head perk up and heard his sister talking to Cooper down the hallway.

This was how he woke up yesterday. With a dog over him and his sister coming in to get him downstairs, because their mother was out and they could eat ice cream for breakfast. The walls were new, but he decided to wait before deciding if something fucked up had actually happened before he would allow himself to feel freaked out.

“Rise and shiiiine, Tory!” Stella’s voice bounced off the walls of the hallway, sing-songy. Just like it had been yesterday. She soon was in the doorway of his room, and she grinned at him. Cooper came bounding into his room and hopped up onto his bed, nudging Deacon out of the way so Story could pet him. “The boys missed you last night.” She was grinning, because her brother was being overwhelmed by dogs. “Mother is out right now, so I’ve prepared our breakfast for us.”

Story had Deacon get off his bed and signaled for Cooper to lay down, then started rubbing his chest. The dog rolled over and Story rubbed his belly, then looked at his sister. She was wearing the same outfit. The bright purple hoodie. The stupid cat pajama pants. Her faded pink hair was braided exactly like how it had been yesterday.

Okay. Fine. He could deal with this. But he needed to make sure he was not going crazy.

“What did you prepare for us?” he asked, then nodded to one of his walls. “Does it have anything to do with this new paint job?”

“New paint job?” Stella scrunched her nose up and shook her head. Right. Okay. He had obviously had green walls forever and the blue walls never existed before. “Did you hit your head in your sleep, Brother? You chose this color like, forever ago or something. Are you hating it now?”

“No,” Story said, shrugging. “I mean, maybe I did hit my head.” He scrunched his nose up, too, mimicking his sister and knocked his knuckles against his forehead. She laughed. “Or maybe I had a dream about blue walls.”

“Why would you be dreaming about walls?” Stella asked, then gasped and covered her mouth. “Because you feel so trapped by our parents? Stifled by our dumb town? Is your subconscious trying to tell you to break free or something?”

“I think my subconscious tries to tell me a lot of stuff,” Story mumbled, then saw his sister’s concern and shook his head. “It’s fine, Tella. Just, tell me this: you didn’t prepare a salad for us, did you?”

Stella pouted and shook her head. “Salad for breakfast? No. I mean, you do need to eat healthier, but not this morning.” She moved away from his door frame, eyes now twinkling. “Come downstairs after you fix your hair. You have a birds nest on top of your head.”

He reached up to see if she was right and listened as she went down the stairs, calling for Deacon and Charisma to follow her. Cooper watched her go, too, then looked at Story. “Go on, boy,” he mumbled, waving a hand at the dog. Cooper jumped off the bed and ran out of Story’s room, and Story got up quickly and closed his door softly.

It was not okay. None of this was. What the actual fuck was happening? Green walls was weird, but his sister wearing the exact same thing and waking him up the exact same way never happened. Maybe the clothes he could forgive. Possibly. Stella didn’t care to dress up when she was at home. She wore whatever was comfortable, same as Story did. But she always figured out different ways to wake him up, ever since they were kids. Once upon a time, Story thought she’d eventually run out of options, but she kept coming up with new ways every single time she got him up.

Sending in the dogs happened many times before. But luring him out of bed with ice cream had not. Except after his summer time break up, though that had not been a morning time wake up call. There was one obvious answer, and Story absolutely hated that he knew what the fuck happened.

The day repeated.

How? Why? When? Where? Who? God. He didn’t care. Seriously. Why had he been caught up in it? Because he lived in this hellish town? Because he was with some asshole whose parents worked at the loop last night? Because he went to that stupid party?

God, the party. Skylar. His face. He was probably fine now, if the day repeated. Story felt his cheeks warm at the argument they almost got into in the bathroom but pushed it aside. Shame would not help him figure out what the fuck was going on.

Even if he did feel bad. Even if he did kind of think that Skylar was justified in being pissed off at him. He didn’t really think Skylar was a freak. And he wasn’t embarrassed about being his friend. Skylar was one of the few people at their miserable high school that Story actually thought highly enough to be genuine friends with. He told him his stupid fucking secret. Obviously he did not think Skylar was not good enough.

But he fucked up at the party. Would Skylar even remember? Why did he remember? He didn’t understand how sciencey shit worked, but if he was the only person to realize that there was something weird going on, then he hated to admit it, but this poor town would be in a loop possibly forever. He could probably manage being stuck in a loop indefinitely. If it was something from that stupid facility underground then they would most likely figure out how to make this stop eventually. Even if they didn’t, Story didn’t think that being stuck in a loop of this same day over and over again would be that bad.

If there was a loop, then he would never be able to leave this town, though. That thought stuck in his head and got him dressed quickly. He made sure to fix his hair, which was not really that much of a birds nest, then he left his room and made his way down the hallway. His foot caught on a bump in the carpet and he froze immediately and peered down at it. That was the same bump he pushed down yesterday, to make sure his sister didn’t trip over it.

This was not going to be a fun day.

He stamped it down and ran down the stairs, then checked on Stella in the kitchen. She had out two bowls full of mint chip and chocolate ice cream. The same as yesterday. There was a bit of melted ice cream sliding down the mint chip bowl. Story hadn’t pointed it out yesterday and Stella had ended up sticking her finger right in it. He grabbed some paper towels from the holder on the counter and bunched them up, then wiped up the melting ice cream on the bowl. He tossed them into the trash and eyed the bowls warily.

“No comment on our breakfast?” Stella asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I thought you were wanting me to eat healthier,” Story replied, moving over to the utensil drawer and pulling out two spoons. He tapped one against his sisters head and picked up the chocolate bowl after she took the spoon from him.

“We’re rebelling, Tory,” Stella said, stabbing her spoon into her sweet breakfast and hopping onto and then sitting on top of the counter. Story stared at her. “Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Father’s away and our dumb mother is out doing some dumb thing. Eat your ice cream and don’t whine about how our food is made on this.”

“I wasn’t going to do that,” Story said, slightly miffed about the implications of him still being the well-behaved son. He had not been that son in several years. He took a bite of his ice cream and eyed where she was sitting, then smirked around his spoon. “I just made out with Scott right there before.”

“Ew!” Stella gasped and slipped off the counter, then scowled at Story. “You did not. You wouldn’t have. Not with our parents in the house.”

“Oh, no, we definitely did. They were out on a date.”

Stella gaped at him, then took her spoon and flung whatever ice cream was on it at Story. He barley managed to dodge the frozen treat, then looked at her, wide-eyed, when it hit the floor. “That’s what you get for having me put my butt where you guys did something naughty.”

“I did not make you do anything,” Story countered, gesturing with his spoon to the ice cream on the floor. “I’m not cleaning that up.” He flicked his spoon back to his sister and saw a chocolate drop land on her hoodie. He quickly averted his eyes back to his ice cream, taking a spoonful and stuffing it into his mouth.

Stella frowned, oblivious to the stain on her hoodie. “I don’t think I believe you, Tory.”

“Why would I ever lie to you, Tella?” Story asked, staring at said stain.

She looked back at the counter, squinting. “That’s where they prepare our lobster.”

“Yeah, and your butt was there,” Story mumbled around his spoon.

“Oh my God! So you didn’t make out with him there! I knew it!” Stella took her spoon out of her bowl and threatened to throw her ice cream again, but Deacon came trotting into the kitchen and sniffed at the melted ice cream on the floor. “No!” She screamed and rushed over to the dog, shooing him away. “You can’t have that, baby. Bad for pups.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown it, then,” Story remarked, smiling sweetly when his sister frowned at him. He went over to the paper towels and grabbed them off the holder. “I’d suggest cleaning it up before Chari or Coopie sniff it out.”

“Oh, you’d suggest, would you,” Stella grumbled, taking the towels from her brother. She whacked him on the head with them and crouched down to wipe up the mess. “I’d suggest you stop being such a jerk to me.”

“I’m not a jerk to you, Tella,” Story started, still smiling when his sister glanced at him. “I just don’t want your butt in our food.”

She rolled her eyes and set aside a dirty paper towel. Story nudged Deacon away when he nosed it. There was a telephone ring from the living room and the siblings looked at each other.

“You or me?” Stella asked.

“Probably me,” Story said, frowning. He had an idea about who would be calling. If it was really Ryan, then that would mean that he was not the only one experiencing this weird looped day. He let the phone ring again and Stella stood from the floor and approached him with the dirty towels, threatening to smear them on his arms. “Ew, no. Stop.” Story moved away from her, holding his hands up.

“Go answer the phone.”

“Maybe it’s for you,” Story suggested, really not wanting to answer the phone and find out it was Ryan calling him. That would end in disaster, most likely. Disaster, as in, Story would have to confirm Ryan’s suspicions and then end up helping him out. He really did not want to do that.

“You think it’s for me?” Stella asked, tossing the towels into the trashcan. She hit the cabinet closed with her foot and smirked at Story, then moved toward the living room. “Wonder who it could be?”

“Wait, no,” Story started, but his sister bolted out of the kitchen. Story abandoned his ice cream on the counter and went after her, then slipped on the floor and grabbed Stella to stop her from getting into the living room before him.

He hit his head against the wood and winced, reaching up to touch it. Stella fell with him and groaned, then kicked Story as he moaned over the new bump on his head. “You deserved that, meanie.” She curled her knee up and pulled one leg of her pajama pants up to examine it.

“It wasn’t intentional,” Story mumbled. The phone was still ringing. He hated it. Stop ringing, please.

It didn’t listen to him. He groaned and got up from the floor, then when he made sure he wasn’t dizzy or concussed, he went over to it and frowned down at it.

He did not want to answer it. Yesterday, or today, Ryan had called him later than this, to talk about the party. Story did not think that he would be calling for the same reason this time. It was mildly annoying, honestly, that Ryan was his friend. He kind of wished it would be someone else calling, but of course it would not be, because of course Ryan also had to realize that something fucking weird was going on.

“Answer it, Tory!” Stella whined, standing and coming over to him. “What, do you think it’s cursed?” She crossed her arms and stared at the phone. “Hello, Mr. Ghost,” she said to the phone, “we’re not interested in being possessed or haunted. Please try some other house.”

“It’s not a ghost,” Story said, frowning. “Why would a ghost be calling to inform us that we have been selected for a haunting?”

Stella scoffed and gestured to the phone. “Who do you think it is, then? Someone calling to ask you on a date for that party tonight?”

Party. Tonight. Dammit.

“You know what, Tella.” Story took a step away from the phone, smiling. He wasn't going to deal with this today. Not happening. “Why don’t you answer it for me? I barely got to eat my breakfast.”

“I don’t want to be possessed,” Stella whispered, narrowing her eyes. “Who is it?”

“Find out.” Story shrugged, then headed back into the kitchen.

Stella scowled after her brother, then sighed and picked up the phone. “Hello, Langdale Residence.”

On the other end of the line, Ryan closed his eyes at the familiar voice. Stella Langdale, a familiar voice yet not the one he was after. He supposed it was only natural, Story didn’t have the same propensity for early mornings like he did. But he couldn’t exactly wait for him to wake up in order to continue checking up on the peculiarities of the morning.

Thankfully, he was sure Stella would understand the need to wake her brother if he asked with the right words.

“Ah, morning Stella. I figured Story wouldn’t be up yet but I kinda need to chat.” he said whilst pushing away from his counter and turning towards a window. Outside he could still see Parker making his way away from his home, eyes narrowing at his new hair color again.

“I know he’s probably gonna give me hell for it,” he gave a small sigh “but something came up with that Party at Janice’s and he’s really gonna need to hear it.”

Stella stood stunned, because it was Ryan on the other end of the phone, but she quickly regained her composure. “Oh, hi Ryan!” she said cheerfully, ignoring the heat creeping into her cheeks. “Gosh, Ryan,” she said loudly toward the kitchen, “I wasn’t expecting you to call at all. You want to know something funny? My brother is actually awake and he thought a ghost was calling our house—”

“I did not!” Story shouted from somewhere in the kitchen.

“So he was scared to answer the phone,” Stella continued. Her brother let out a very loud ugh. “Can you believe that? What kind of ghost would be calling our house? Oh, but wait.” She smacked her forehead. “You said something about the party? Are you going with anyone tonight? Like, any kind of date, or whatever?”

“Enough, Tella.” Story left the kitchen and went over to his sister, then sighed and held his hand out. “Give it to me before you embarrass yourself further.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Stella hissed, then realized she was still holding onto the phone. She flushed and threw it at her brother, who managed to catch it, then left the living room in a rush.

Story frowned after her, then sighed and put the phone to his ear. His ice cream was finished and he was dressed, but he did not want to go out right now. He still didn't know what was going on with the day. Possibly, annoyingly, Ryan might be able to help him figure it out. Or he might just be calling to talk about the pointless party tonight. "What's up, Ryan? Is something going on with the party?"

On the other end of the line, Ryan had pinched the bridge of his nose through most of Stella’s words. The moment Story spoke, however, he pulled his hand away and spoke.

“First: If your sister gets any more obvious I might have to start throwing her lines out of principle. Second: Parker Ridge just showed up with blonde hair and now you’re seeing ghosts apparently.”

He didn’t give Story a chance, “Coupled with a distinct lack of yesterday’s records and an odd sense of Deja Vu, I’ll ask if you can recall what happened yesterday night for me.” he paused for a second “As I recall this specific chat occurring quite differently the last time it happened.”

“First: I am not seeing ghosts, because they do not exist. My sister is just being annoying.” Story paused for a moment, then sighed and leaned against the wall. “Second: Perhaps Parker’s hair is blond now due to all the blood loss he experienced last night. His gushing nose might have drained the color from certain parts of his body.”

Story knew that was completely impossible, but it was what Ryan was looking for. A confirmation that, yes, he also remembered the party and the stupid fight. Oh, but Ryan hadn’t been there to see what happened. He glanced at the kitchen to make sure his sister wasn’t eavesdropping.

He didn’t want to find out what was going on, but it was too weird. If Ryan remembered, then some other people might have, as well. It could, potentially, be a problem.

“I woke up this morning and my walls were green,” he whispered, cupping his hand around the phone. “Breakfast was ice cream, like it was yesterday. Stella didn’t think my walls were weird, so I’m guessing that Parker didn’t think anything was weird about his new hair color?” He didn’t wait for Ryan to respond. “Adding that all together equals something fucking weird. I’d like to hear your hypothesis so that my own theory doesn’t sound completely crazy.”

Ryan didn’t answer immediately, drumming his fingers along a nearby counter for several long seconds before stepping away from it and scratching at the back of his neck.

“Well, either you and I have simultaneously developed a nasty cocktail of mental deficiencies that have only now decided to start acting up, or yesterday just repeated.” he offered before giving an irritated sigh “Albeit with a notable number of odd differences.”

Ryan could’ve gone deeper, but he was only barely keeping himself from devolving into assumptions. Story’s confirmation was able to at least temper his worry that he’d gone just a tiny bit crazy, something like that would be poisonous to a proper career and taking steps to mitigate it would be harsh on his schedule.

“I’m already working on efforts to investigate the scenario,” he admitted before leaning his head back “but what pray tell was your hypothesis, anyway?”

“My hypothesis was that the day repeated.” Story rolled his eyes, then heard his sister talking to Deacon in the kitchen. “It sounds fucking crazy though,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Us developing mental deficiencies at the same time would be much more explainable. Same party, same time, same weird screeching noise. You did hear a weird screeching noise, right?”

He listened to his sister in the kitchen and sighed, knowing if he kept talking for much longer she’d come over to see what he was discussing. “Actually, forget it. It’d be better if we stopped talking about this over the phone. Stella has no idea that anything weird happened and I don’t want her sticking her nose into it.” He leaned against the wall and smiled. “If you’re investigating, then maybe you can just dig around and then tell me what you discover later. You were always a better Sherlock than I was.”

“You do know that just mentioning your sis doing such a thing has already increased the chances that she’s been listening in on this whole thing fishing for teasing material, right?” Ryan stated before shifting the phone to his other hand so he could more easily fit his arm into the sleeve of a jacket. “Doesn’t matter much though, because I’ll be over there soon to hammer out the game plan. Playing Sherlock’s not quite as fun without a Watson after all.”

Story scoffed at Ryan’s friendly reminder that Stella was probably listening to the conversation. Just because Mr. Football Player was so paranoid about everything didn’t mean that Stella actually spied on him that much. He glanced behind his shoulder to see if she had been, but she was still in the kitchen laughing with the dogs. Ryan and his paranoia. He rolled his eyes.

Oh, fuck. Watson. Ugh. Story walked right into that one. Stupid. “I’m too pretty to play Watson. And, besides, I bet I know more about this stupid repeating day than you do.” He didn’t, actually. “Don’t come over here. Stella will be too curious and she might want to tag along, and I know how embarrassed you’d be having her talk to you.” He glanced at a clock on the wall. “If you can make it to that bent stop sign on 11th in under five minutes then I’ll go along with your scheme. Better hurry, though. I’m not feeling particularly patient today.”

There was a short hum of thought from the other end, but Ryan eventually responded with, “If it were really such a pain for you, ya might’ve given me a harder time frame to reach.” The sound of stuff being moved around was soon followed by, “Be there in three.”

Story scoffed and slammed the phone back against the receiver, then ran a hand through his hair. Stupid Ryan. Stupid repeating day. Stupid everything.

“I’m heading out!” Story called to the kitchen, then squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. He should probably bring something more solid to eat if he was going to be tromping around town all day. Ice cream wouldn’t let him keep up with Ryan, and he refused to let his annoying friend show him up in any way.

He went back into the kitchen and ignored Stella’s arched brow, going to the fridge. “What did Ryan want?” she asked, watching as Story pulled a pre-made sandwich out.

“To be a bother,” Story grumbled, shutting the refrigerator door shut with his hip. “I’m stealing this.” He held up his sandwich to Stella, who shrugged. “I don’t know how long I’ll be out, either. Ryan’s having a crisis and I need to go be a good friend.”

“A crisis?” Stella repeated, disbelief plainly written across her face.

“Yeah.” Story moved back to the living room. “Don’t worry about it.” He went to the front door and grabbed the handle, looking at his sister before opening it. “See you later, Tella.” His sister smiled and waved goodbye, and Story left his house, annoyed and not at all wanting to become involved in any stupid loop thing.

 

[cablebelly]

poolside snackage
Date: August 16th, Loop 1
Location: Ralphs, The Pool
Mentions: smolfluffball Stella & Story
Interactions: Sarah Pierson
collab brought to you by Jewel & cablebelly

After taking a moment to clean himself up in the small shop bathroom, Benny reemerged marginally less covered in grease and a little more up for adventure. He’d changed shirt and his face was free of grime, though his jeans still looked like he had been, well, under a car. Which he had been. It didn’t seem to bother him much, and his general dopey-Benny smile played on his lips.

“Ready.” He said, a little cheerfully. Truthfully, at this point, the more important things were the Ralphs snacks crusade and a moment at the pool, and her great scheme felt far enough away that he wasn’t going to worry about it right now. He’d joined Cara on many a prank mission, and usually, there was fun stuff involved before the actual pranking. Sure, it wasn’t soda and skipping rocks on the lake, but it was something to get him out of his head and moving around town. Plus, the AC in Ralphs was nothing to scoff at on a hot summer's day. Shoving his hands in his pockets, the two hit the sidewalk. Their destinations were close enough to the shop to merit walking, so as the sun beat down on them, Benny was already trying to decide what flavor of ice cream he would raid from the grocery store freezer.

The best he could do at this point was try to bring up any other topic than Steven Carmichael. It would probably work for about three seconds, but he’d do what he could. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he glanced down at Cara. “I’m thinkin’... strawberry popsicle. No, grape.” A pause, and a look of realization. “I don’t have my swim trunks. We ain’t swimmin’, right? Are we?” Who knew what they were going to be doing when Cara had tricks up her sleeve.

Cara retreated up to her room in the apartment above the shop for a five-minute outfit swap, trading her jogging shorts and tee for an orange-creamsicle-colored bikini top and with a mismatched teal bottom, a torn pair of denim shorts and a loose-fitting white t-shirt. She cast a long look toward her dad’s old army jacket sprawled across her bed but wisely decided against it. She laced up her iconic black leather boots and returned to Benny with a wide grin and a towel slung over her shoulder. “Ready.” she echoed, bobbing her head once before pivoting on one heel and leading the charge.

Ralphs wasn’t more than a ten-minute walk from the autoshop. It was nothing unusual for the pair to hit up the freezers after a long day in the shop-- or at the beginning of an exciting day of adventuring (and pranking). Speaking of pranking. Cara was really racking her brain for the perfect prank to pull on Steven Carmichael. His last prank on her had been especially dreadful-- several pounds of birdseed poured over her beloved black Kawasaki Z1. She’d been scrubbing bird shit from in between the components for days. But to be fair, letting loose thousands of ladybugs into the backseat of Carmichael’s Oldsmobile had been revenge sweet enough to ease her own torment.

“I’m getting watermelon.” she said. She always got watermelon. She turned to regard Benny and his lack of swimsuit. “That’s what you get for wearing jeans, I guess. Roll’em up and stick your feet in. I’m getting in the pool.” She slapped a wad of crumpled cash on the counter and paid for their popsicles.

The pool was already crowded by the time they arrived. It was still early in the day but the heat was sweltering, and everyone on the block plus their mom had their swim trunks on (minus one inconspicuous cowboy). Cara held open the gate for Benny, her popsicle rapidly melting between her teeth. “C’ehmon,” she said, teeth clenched, “Lehts geht this show on the road.”

Cara didn’t ever have trouble deciding popsicle flavors. Benny could muse about it the whole ten minute walk and still be undecided when they got to the cashier. Kindly, she paid for them both, which made him feel a little bit bad since he’d ended up getting both a strawberry and a grape flavored popsicle, but he figured he’d just cover them both the next time a popsicle dilemma occurred. He opened both in one hand and ate them like a double-popsicle, letting out a grumble of complaint as he realized his jeans would prevent him from getting too deep in the pool. Oh well. Pool water was kind of gross anyway. He much preferred the lake.

He probably did look a little bit like a fish out of water, fully dressed compared to everyone else in the sweltering summer heat. At least he wasn’t donning his cowboy hat, which would have made it ten times worse. Grinning slightly at her as she spoke, jumbled through the popsicle, he slipped in past the gate and into the cesspool of wild waterborne antics.

Benny’s first move was to kick his shoes off and do exactly as Cara had suggested, roll his jeans up as far as they would go. It was a little hard with a doubled popsicle in his hands, but he seemed determined to manage the feat. His mind still lingered on what Cara had said before they left. Her informant. Though Benny wanted desperately to ask who that was, he was still trying hard not to bring the subject up before he had to. He could feel the way the gears of her prank-brain had been turning beside him the whole way here, and knew that she was thinking of nothing but. It was true that Steven Carmichael had gotten the both of them pretty savagely, but for some reason, Benny didn’t have it in him to desire revenge in the same way Cara did. Though he knew how much she loved her Saki, as he called it, and that seemed like crossing the line for a highschool prank war, Benny still felt his gut churning everytime she talked about heightening her pranks to match his.

“How you feelin’ about senior year?” He asked instead, looking at her as he wiggled his stiff jeans up his leg. It was the only other thing he could think to ask, and it was certainly a question occupying his mind. “Is the plan still to travel ‘round after we graduate?”

Cara tossed her towel onto one of the white plastic reclining chairs and then sat down to unlace her boots. “Senior year… hm.” she was never really the type to get excited about school. That, and if she didn’t pass enough of her classes she might not graduate this year. But she hadn’t told Benny that. Or Stella, or anyone for that matter. “I’m excited to walk through the halls of Boulder High without worrying someone will pour riverwater in my socks.” Pranking was both a hobby, a full-time job, and a distraction from the woes of everyday life. Even when it ailed her, her feud with Steven Carmichael was exciting. There were some days she actually worried her life would become boring once their prank-war had ended. But she wasn’t going to imagine future problems for herself while she still had current problems to deal with.

“We should go cliff-jumping.” she said, peeling off her socks and then scrunching them into her boots. “I know a spot. Maybe this weekend. If we’re not too busy at the shop.” She tossed her t-shirt, shrugged off her shorts, and strode to the edge of the pool. “We’ll have to think of something to fill our weekends once all this pranking business is over. Hey, maybe you can take up bull riding. I think that’d be the perfect hobby for you.” A smile came easy to her, wide, spreading over her lips and pulling her features as she teased him. “We can go down to the rodeo stadium and you can wear your cowboy boots… pfthaha.” She slid into the water. “Or,” she perked up on a more serious note, “We can finally get around to building the bike.” They’d been talking about building a bike since Cara’s last trip to Aspen. She’d brought it up, proposing that then, she and Benny could ride together.

Cara spared a glance around the pool just in time to see local-celebrity Sarah Peirson herself enter through the gate. Cara gave Benny a broad, uncontained, joyous smile before turning, shooting her hand into the air, and shouting, “Sarah! Sarah!”

Sarah Peirson looked at them and blanched.

While Cara was a little bit more secretive with her school status, most of Benny’s friend circle knew that he was no brainiac. In fact, most everyone he knew pitched in to help Benny with one subject or another, and it was most definitely one of the only things that had gotten him this far. If Cara were to share her troubles, the same help would probably be extended to her. But Benny never figured that someone struggled as much as he did, in fact, he pestered Cara with questions often and always took her word that the answers were correct.

He finished his popsicles and finally got his jeans up past his knees, taking a seat at the edge of the pool and dipping his toes in. A small smile played on his lips, worried yet pleased, as he imagined the image of Cara walking proudly through the halls with no Carmichael in sight. At her list of adrenaline-pumping ideas, though, his smile quickly disappeared and he looked up at her with a panic in his eyes. For a second, he most definitely believed that she was serious. “No cliffs,” Benny muttered, finally realizing she was teasing, and shot her a glare at the cowboy boot comment. He stuck his tongue out at her. “I’d win all the prize money n’ you know it. The boots gimme luck.”

But at the mention of the bike, his equally playful expression softened. They had been talking about it for a while, and the idea was always appetizing. He wasn’t as much of a motorcycle buff as she was, but over the years in Boulder she’d certainly turned him into one. Lost in the glistening reflection of the pool, Benny tried to picture what it’d look like. He’d only ever lived in two places in his life, and his mother didn’t do much in the way of taking him on family vacations. Cara always talked about going. Going here, there, everywhere. It felt like something of a foreign concept to him. He had one plan, and that was going back home. But maybe it’d be nice to take some time along the way in a vehicle that he’d built with his own two hands. Benny smiled at the thought, and was only roused from his daydream at Cara’s sudden shout, and then her sparkling, traitorous grin.

His mouth slid open in horror as he turned his head to catch the blonde head of Sarah Peirson staring in their direction. With a movement quicker than Benny thought he was capable of executing, he stood out of the water and immediately started trying to clamber his shoes back on. “C-Cara you -- you absolute -- why would you do that, god -- I’m going! I’m gone! You can prank Carmichael without me -- damnit, is she lookin’ this way? Make her stop lookin’ this way! Cara!” Benny blabbed, his shoes absolutely refusing to slip back on to his wet feet as he stumbled around the edge of the pool, his face an impressive shade of red and his voice an octave higher.

“Oh no you don’t.” Cara pulled herself half-way out of the pool to stretch out her arm and grab Benny’s ankle. She looked up at him, an pleading, persisting look of certainty in her eyes. “Relax. Benny, we need her.” She slowly released her hold on Benny’s ankle and slid back into the water.

Sarah Peirson came around in her flip-flops, her brow creased, her bright blue eyes narrowed toward Cara. “Hello Cara. Benjamin.” She didn’t look directly at Benny, but she lowered herself to sit at the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water. Out of the corner of her mouth she spoke to Cara, side-eyeing Benny. “You didn’t say he was going to be here.”

“Sarah,” Cara smiled, leaning the front of her body against the inside wall of the pool, arms crossed over the gritty paved ground. “Tell us what you were saying to me over the phone. About Steven Carmichael.”

Sarah straighted at that. Sarah was a girl who rarely blinked. She had this buggy, wide-eyed vigilante type of look, an overly intense, petrifying stare, the kind that searches your soul. She was a flimsy girl, squeamish, loud-mouthed, and boy-crazy. But around Benny, Cara had noticed Sarah would quiet herself and keep her weirdness mostly to herself. Cara wondered if she was nervous. When Sarah had found out the letter supposed to be from Benny had been a prank… she’d flown off the handle, made a huge scene of it, blew it totally out of proportion. Cara had written it off as dramatics, but she didn’t miss how Sarah asked about Benny whenever they talked. It was clear to Cara that Sarah had more than just a small crush on Benny. She was both concerned and thrilled at the idea of Sarah Peirson having a borderline obsession with Benny. Concerned for Benny. Thrilled for the theatrics.

“He told Brian Hendrake who told me that Steven is going to be at Wilkman’s party.” She glanced quickly at Benny and then looked at Cara. “Rumor is he’s going to try to kiss Stella Langdale. Erm.” She looked at Benny again. “His dad’s letting him bring the Chrysler.”

It was amazing to Cara that even after being put through the letter-prank torment that Sarah would still pine after Benny enough to agree to spy on Steven Carmichael in exchange for Cara convincing her friend to go with Sarah to the fall bash. But part of her also suspected that Sarah was a double-agent, and Benny was going to get hella pranked at the fall bash if he went with her. But that was months away. And Carmichael wouldn’t dare pull any more pranks on her or her friends after tonight. Cara hadn’t told Benny about the exchange yet. She was planning on forgetting about it and then springing it on Benny at the last minute. She wouldn’t feel as guilty then.

“Benjamin,” Sarah wouldn’t look him in the face. She spoke quietly, but there was a timid hopefulness in her tone. “Aren’t you going to get in the pool?”

At the hand that grabbed around his ankle, Benny froze. Compared to Cara, the young man was a giant, and with low position from the pool, she had little to no serious hold on him. Of course, since it was Benny, that didn’t matter. His shoulders drooped and his gaze melted, a pleading look matching hers but for entirely different reasons. Like a siren of the water, she slithered back in, and he gave a small sigh as he sat back down on the edge.

With Sarah nearing, Benny’s disposition changed rather quickly. Rather than his normal goofy grin, he receded into himself as much as possible, back hunched over as he allowed his feet to fall back in the pool. It wasn’t particularly easy to make himself small, but this was about as close as Benny could possibly get. As she neared and greeted him directly, Benjamin similarly did not meet her gaze, staring intently at the pool water like it was out to get him. He gave a brief nod, but otherwise, looked absolutely stiff to the bone with social anxiety.

As they spoke, Benny seemed to be concentrating hard on keeping his face still and his gaze anywhere but Sarah Pierson. Their words registered dimly in his mind, but he seemed so overtaken with the effort of keeping a straight face that it was almost like the conversation was playing in the back of his head. At this point, it had finally dawned on him that Sarah was the informant. This should have been obvious way earlier, but the heat in his cheeks had leaked into his brain and the panic of seeing her had kept him from making any connection until this very moment.

It wasn’t that he hated Sarah, or anything like that. It was just he couldn’t stand the idea of causing her any pain, especially of the emotional sort. All this romance business was so terribly lost on Benny. The letter, his conversation with Story, it had all hit him like a punch in the face and he had absolutely no idea to handle it. It just made him feel… bad. Everyone had so many emotions and when they were directed at him he did not know how to handle it. Sarah already had a bold, bug-eyed appearance that seemed to stare right through him, and the way his full name rolled off her tongue just about made him shiver.

At the mention of Stella, he did perk up a small amount. Stella and Steven? Stella had never mentioned anything about that, so all Benny could imagine was the picture of Steven trying to throw himself at Stella. Benny shivered again, completely missing Sarah’s glance at him. Sat awkwardly between the two women, Benny continued to swish around the water with his legs, brow furrowed as he forgot his previous task of keeping a blank face and now wrapped up with worries of what exactly was going to happen at this party.

Sarah spoke again, and this time her voice was much more demure. Benny jumped, roused out of his day dream once more and finally turned to look at her, brown eyes big and wide. “Jeans.” He blurted, pointing to himself, unable to say anything else. Suddenly he was very thankful for his lack of swim trunks.

Cara pulled herself out of the pool and went to pick up her towel. “Sorry Sarah, but we can’t stay for long.” She began to towel herself off, and then stopped, whipping her head around to look at Sarah with a dawning smile. “Did you say he was bringing his dad’s Chrysler to the party? Oh, Sarah, that is wonderful to hear.” She hopped into her shorts, one leg and then the other. “Thank you again for meeting us here… you’ve been so absolutely helpful.” Cara looked to Benny and wiggled her eyebrows. If she sensed his distress she didn’t appear too concerned about it.

“Oh, alright.” Sarah gave a little shrug. “I’m glad I was helpful.” She gave Benny and his bluejeans a forlorn look and then went to get up herself. “It was nice seeing you Benny.”

“Ben, let’s see if we can’t find Stella now. I just had the greatest idea.”

 

[elytra]

Kristi 'Coop' Cooper​

Location: The Cooper Front Porch
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly ), Tammy ( cadence ), Earl ( Kattzillaa ), Skylar ( Jewel )
Mentions: N/A

Maybe Cooper should have had more of a reaction to the whole situation. Most people would, all things considered. Maybe she should've panicked, or stuck her head in her pillow for a bit longer in hopes that the world would just automatically right itself. That likely would be the proper reaction. But, Cooper wasn't all that proper a person and she wasn't the type that liked to waste precious time, so she hadn't freaked out. She'd gotten ready and then went out to find out what was going on, because like many things, nothing would get done if she waited around. Or, that was her plan, at least. Now she was watching Delia act a little crazed in the middle of their usually quiet suburban neighborhood.

That meant she remembered, at least.

It didn't seem the others did. Her eyes flickered between the group, assessing them all carefully in hopes of getting some sort of clue to what was going on their heads. Earl was...well. He was Earl, and she didn't know what went on in that head of his most of the time, all things considered. Maybe he remembered, maybe he didn't, but something had clearly happened to bring him here to her house. She doubted Delia had gone and asked him to come along; she was pretty sure they weren't on fantastic terms.

Tammy and Skylar, on the other hand, were less of a mystery. Both seem concerned by Delia's behavior (which, fair enough, Cooper was as well) and gave no indication that they knew anything about what she was talking about. She doubted they'd try and hide that sot of thing, especially with Delia shouting about it right on the porch. Then again, maybe they would, and didn't want to seem crazy. It was an option, albeit not a likely one. Either way, Skylar seemed to have reached his limit.

Cooper flashed him an apologetic smile, placing a reassuring hand on Delia's shoulder. Well, it was time to do some damage control. "Yep! I mean, I was just heading out anyway and I don't mind the company." She agreed, nodding at Skylar once to confirm that she was alright with sticking around Delia. Not in the way he imagined, she was sure- she wasn't about to try and tell her it wasn't real or anything -but she was pretty certain he didn't care so long as she didn't suffer a mental breakdown, and Cooper could handle that.

She stepped forwards so she was beside Delia, bumping shoulders with her lightly "Maybe we shouldn't shout in the middle of the neighborhood, okay? I don't want to annoy the neighbors or anything. Oh, but I did want to-- one second, one second..." She dug into her pocket, before gingerly taking out the photo, showing it to her. Delia likely would recognize it, or what it had been previously. Cooper had carried with her everywhere until it had reached its resting place pinned to her wall. So, she was near positive her friend would recognize the differences "Here we go. Check it out. Weird, right? It was like that when I got up this morning....again."

The again was said more quietly, in hopes no one else would think much of it. She didn't think it would be reassuring to others if they were leaving Delia, in her current state, in the hands of Cooper if Cooper also seemed crazy.

 

[cablebelly]

DELIA CARRON
Cooper Household - mentions: x - interactions: elytra Coop cadence Tammy Jewel Skylar

There was something to be said about living in a town where everyone had one unchangeable expectation of you. Life was almost easy when no one could even fathom you could be anything more than your deadbeat parents, your runaway brother, or your criminal brother. Delia was a nice little rung on a forgotten ladder that every other step had fallen out of. Nobody bothered to climb when the end was unattainable. Because of this, there was a certain way people looked at her. Like she was nothing, like she was not worth paying attention to. Delia had managed to thrive under this look.

She lived her life unabashedly and unapologetically. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. Partied hard, woke up late, started again, and again, and again. Usually, it didn’t turn heads even if it was out of the blue. Because Carrons liked to make noise, and the denizens of Boulder didn’t really need or care to listen. So maybe some part of her, instinctively, intrinsically, thought that maybe when she screamed her head off, no one would listen.

But they did. They definitely did. Tammy and Skylar stared at her like she had lost her mind, and honestly, she was inclined to agree with them. After her outburst, a hand came over her mouth, like even she couldn’t believe what she’d said. Delia knew for a fact that there had been a party. There was no way there hadn’t been. Delia knew her mind well enough, knew her mind on drugs well enough, and there was no way she had dreamed up a scene that vivid and that long and that annoying and that… real. And while she felt through their eyes looking at her that she must be crazy somehow, it wasn’t that thought that scared her.

What made her gut churn was the way they reacted to her. Even if she were crazy, she fully expected them to be crazy with her. Delia might have been dismissed in her life, by snobby adults and teachers, but not by her friends. Not by her best friend who slept at her side on her worst nights, unable to go home. Not by the boy who she rolled joints for at three am whenever he was too heated to stay inside his house. Delia might have looked a mess, but there was a certain clarity to her insanity that would tell even Tammy that the girl wasn’t high, and her playful jabs seemed to sting like true barbs. The way that Skylar looked at her was worse. Like a burden. Like something impossible to handle. Maybe stay with Coop a while? She’ll take care of you? Delia’s jaw tightened in a way that felt almost painful. “What am I, senile?” She hissed through clenched teeth, the words venom on her tongue. She might have said something worse if Coop hadn’t bumped her shoulder.

It was almost always Coop that seemed to bring her out of any self imposed spiral. Delia stiffened, and then relaxed, looking down at Coop with a much more toned down expression. At this point, she just wanted someone to tell her she was sane, and there was a defeated look in Delia’s eye that not often crossed her visage. Annoying the neighbors was the least of her worries when everyone had forgotten the previous day and the inscription by her bedside was gone. But Delia was beginning to lose her moment of panic, and as the adrenaline wore off, she felt exposed in the middle of the street. Of course, by her own doing, which was usually how anything bad in her life went. Delia, tight lipped, trying to hold in another outburst that felt like it was bubbling out of her, looked down at the photo Coop presented her.

She said nothing, but her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. Who the hell was that? Cooper toted around the photo like it was a part of her skin this past year, and at this point, Delia knew the features of Cooper and her brother in that photo by heart. But whoever was in that photo… that was no little kid brother.

With the little appendage to the end of her sentence, Delia became rigid once more. So she wasn’t fucking crazy. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and looked back at the little crowd that had formed. At Skylar, who was backing away from her like a situation that would drag him in over his head. At Tammy, who couldn’t see anything but another fun joyride to escape the ever present shadow looming over her. And at Coop, who was nothing and no one else but her lifeline in a moment where all the strangeness of Boulder suddenly felt much too tangible for her comfort.

“My bad, everybody.” Delia said, except it was so soft it probably didn’t reach anybody’s ears. She grabbed Cooper’s free hand, and gently but firmly, tugged the girl off the porch, barrelling past anybody who stood in their way. She gave a solid bird to Skylar in their wake, eyes alight with flame, burning the pain behind them, and as she did so, shouted to Tammy. “Tammy, I gotta do something with Coop. We’ll catch you later.” Her voice was tight, strained, and nowhere near the casually collected Delia that seemed ever present until this moment. She was clearly rattled, but now she was moving, breaking past their gazes that had once locked her in place. It seemed that Delia was dragging Coop to her own home down the block, or rather, her beloved car. All she wanted was to get away with Coop as fast as possible.

“The day repeated. Your carving on my bedpost is gone. Your photo is different. I hate this town.” Delia stated grimly as she tugged Coop along.

 

[Kattzillaa]

Earl Ashbridge
Cooper's House
cablebelly - Dehlia, elytra - Coop, Jewel - Skylar, cadence - Tammy
​

A chilling wind sort of blew near the ground and swept up Earl's shirt, a shiver running up his spine at the sense of dread that overwhelmed his body. His black hair stood up on the back of his neck but he did his best to brush it off, not wanting to be more worried than he already was. Earl's goal was to make sure Coop was still... alive. The ghost hunter had experienced odder things in his life so this was not out of the ordinary. He was a ghost hunter after all and thought to be mentally not there.

The rock throwing paused for a moment as he swore he heard a flutter of noise from within the house, hope sparked that it was Coop. Delia, who had arrived just moments before Earl had remarked on why he was throwing rocks with a simple what the fuck. The two were obviously worried about their friend for one reason or another. The man's response was quick and snappy, an attitude coming through. It especially came through when Tammy and Syklar seem to remark on his behavior as well.

"Oh, because waiting here is a much better idea." His annoyance flaring at them and practically barring his teeth. Earl was definitely stressed, that much was obvious but one could expect that due to his living situation... or lack there of.

"Go throw rocks at your own house..." Tammy's voice piped up but soon simmered down after she nailed him in the head with a pebble. In that moment Earl practically prayed to the lord himself in order to keep his self control. He wanted so desperately to put a dent in Tammy's head with his own pebble. Then the sarcastic comment about his own house, he couldn't tell if she was just being a bitch or if she actually said that without thinking. Being homeless was hard enough but having people make fun of it was fucking infuriating. They didn't even know his story or why he was homeless and he definitely did not feel inclined to tell them.

"You're waking up the whole neighborhood!" Skylar piped in with his own two-cents which Earl would have gladly returned if his mind was focused on more important issues.

As usual, Delia, Tammy, and Skylar all had these looks in their eyes. Earl knew them well, they were questioning his sanity. The real question was... was it mere coincidence that they all were here for Coop? Especially seeing as two out of the four were panicked for her safety. Earl was pretty smart but even this stumped him. This specific situation had never occurred before.

To break his thoughts to pieces the girl of the hour finally came out, wondering what the fuck was going on. He opened his mouth to speak to her but seemed to freeze, staring at the space next to her for a brief moment. Leaning against the railing of the porch, he looked decently aged. The clothes he wore were somewhat of an older fashion, overalls and boots. As quick as he saw it, the thing disappeared into a flurrying wisp. That must have been what that chill in the air was... Earl shook his head before opening his mouth again.

"Coop.. We were worried about you... I found something odd this morning." There was no hesitance for explaining himself to his best friend as he handed her the art she had drawn him so long ago. The signature clearly missing from it, he hoped the artist would notice as well. Something strange happened next or rather Delia said something extremely odd.

"Does anyone remember the party last night?"

His face screwed up in confusion. A party? He would have remembered a party. At first his mind wandered to perhaps a secret party they had made without his knowledge. Then his thoughts went to the Wilkman party. It made the situation even weirder and he just sort of looked at them, recognition flashing in all their eyes except for his own.

"Party? There's wasn't a party last night... There's one tonight at the Wilkman's though." He piped up immediately to put his point out to them

 

[cadence]

Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly ) Skylar ( Jewel ) Earl ( Kattzillaa Coop: elytra )

It didn’t take long for Tammy to fully gauge the seriousness of Delia’s tone - and with it came the horrible feeling of guilt. Here she was, screaming loud enough for anyone in a one mile radius to hear, pounding on Coop’s door with a desperation Tammy hadn’t seen from her before, and all she could think to do was make a jab at the girl for the possibility of being high. And worse, though she directed it all towards Earl, her initial reaction was anger. Anger at Delia, at first, for getting high without her. And then at her and Coop for having some apparent weird sixth sense that left her the odd one out. And, of course, anger at Earl for showing his ugly mug when, in Tammy’s opinion, it was pretty obvious none of them gave a fuck about him. She was a horrible friend, she realized with a pit in her stomach. Delia deserved much better than her.

She wouldn’t apologize for it. Tammy didn’t do apologies. I’m sorry, was too vulnerable when it was just her and Delia, much less with Skylar and Earl standing around. Instead, she dropped the remaining pebbles on the ground and dusted her hands off on her pant leg, praying Delia would recognize what a huge sacrifice this was for her and forget about it later. Besides, as much as she wanted to grab a bigger rock and crack the kid’s skull open, he hadn’t exactly done anything to warrant it yet. He barely reacted to the pebbles in the first place - even when she nailed him in the forehead! - which made it a whole lot less enjoyable for her, anyway. She quickly shot Earl a glare before ignoring his presence completely, taking a step closer to the front door with a greater look of concern than she had exhibited so far.

Tammy wasn‘t quite sure what the fuss over Coop was in the first place, but even she let out an audible sigh of relief when the girl stepped outside. Something must of rattled Delia enough to have her yelling as loud as she was and to more or less have four teens waiting outside her house with varying levels of concern. When Delia pointed her thumb at Skyler, demanding Coop take a look at his face, she couldn’t help but peer her head back to get a look at him as well. He looked... like Skylar. The same as usual - not that she spent much time looking at him. ”Are you talking about the Wilkman party?“ She asked, shooting up an eyebrow when asked if she remembered the party. “That’s not ‘til tonight. Are you sure you’re not…” She cut herself off before she asked if she was high again. She really was concerned about her friends, but too much was going on and not much of it made any sense to her. “Are you sure you didn‘t have a weird dream or something?“

The feeling in her stomach returned when Delia dragged Coop off her porch, both hunched over something Tammy hadn’t managed to get a look at. But this time, it wasn’t any feelings of remorse. Rather, red hot jealousy that burned like a fire in her stomach. She hated when they got like this, both caught up in secrets she wasn’t a part of that they left her in the dust. They knew each other longer. They had a special bond. She knew that, but it didn’t sting any less. She huffed, taking a step after them.

It was then Delia turned around, shouting that her and Coop would catch her later, and Tammy stopped in her tracks. “I want to come!” She shouted back, hands cupped around her mouth so she could be heard better, but neither glanced back, already too far away. She grit her teeth, trying to ignore the way her stomach flopped at the words. She figured the gut feeling she woke up with that morning was somehow connected to the way Delia was behaving, but now she wouldn’t get any answers - the only person in all of Boulder who she thought would have any answers was now being hauled away. And, to add insult to injury, Tammy once again was the odd one out, abandoned by the only two people in Boulder she considered friends. “Fuck you guys,” she grumbled under her breath, not that they’d be able to hear it if she shouted. She then spun on her heels and marched towards her truck, daring either Earl or Skylar to say something. Whatever, she decided. She didn’t need Coop for answers and she sure as Hell didn’t need Delia to get high.

 

[GrieveWriter]

Ryan Netzine
Interaction/Mention: Story ( smolfluffball )
Location: Netzine Estates ==> 11th Street

Five minutes to 11th street?

For some it might've seemed daunting, especially since that location was easily closer to Story's resident than Ryan, but Ryan hadn't spent the last half of his life thoroughly cultivating a proper physique for nothing. Even though he was just in his casualwear, he'd cleared his home street in less than thirty seconds.

Running wasn't about power, at least if one was thinking pure efficiency instead of competitively. It required proper pacing, form, an understanding of footwork that most simply didn't bother to keep track of when jogging over to a pal's place to hang out or rushing to catch an ice cream man before he went for his next stop. For many running was a simple process, something they did automatically when they needed to get somewhere.

But Ryan Netzine didn't do simple, Ryan Netzine did efficient.

And so he'd made for that Bent stop sign Story always had them meet up at with concise movements, the turns he'd have to take practically memorized by heart at that point. If it weren't for the threat of running into cars or other people, Ryan was fairly certain he could make the entire run with his eyes closed.

Not that he was one for silly attempts like that, but his capability in such a scenario was kept in mind.

As he made for his destination, another wave of deja vu hit him.

It was to be expected, Parker and him were to be taking this route during their early jog. It'd be on the second lap and they'd be coming from the opposite direction, but the scene was similar enough for Ryan to picture it clearly. Parker often was quiet and subservient when it was just them, so Ryan would be able to focus on their timing. The only interruptions they'd really had were that stretching break outside the arcade and-

"Ryan?"

Glancing to his side, he saw none other than Bebe Collins running at his side.

Ah yes, he'd forgotten the incidental run-in they had with Bebe yesterday. Though she specialized in running instead of the sports Ryan and his team played, he'd found himself getting familiar with her purely through running into each other during his exercise routines. Unlike setting up routines with teammates like Parker, run ins with the local marathon girl just seemed to happen. Like yesterday when she'd caught up to them just as they were leaving the arcade.

"Doing laps down Ferguson again?" he asked as they ran, with Bebe shaking her head.

"Not exactly, heard Leon's Laundromat went down twenty cents and wanted a peak." she said whilst easily keeping pace with him "Though I figured getting some laps around mid-town wouldn't be a problem!"

Ryan hid his frown, as she'd changed stories from what she'd said the last time this happened. Bebe always gave different explanations for why they kept running into each other, but Ryan hadn't found himself curious enough to question them. When she'd ran into both Parker and him outside the Arcade, she'd said she was picking something up that a friend had left there.

"Parker running with you today?" she asked "Thought you two had those pre-practice weekend set-ups?"

"Something came up, had to reschedule that." Ryan said as he spotted the stop sign

"You rescheduling?" she almost seemed in disbelief "Who did what?"

As Ryan came to a stop besides the bent stop sign he was supposed to meet Story at, he turned and looked to her "What do you mean?"

Bebe didn't stop, instead jogging around both him and the stop sign as she spoke, "Whenever you reschedule this close to something, its usually because somebody somewhere screwed something up, big time. So who was it?"

Ryan supposed that applied the current scenario, so he gave a tired sigh before leaning against the stop sign, "That's actually what I'm trying to figure out at the moment."

"Oho, Big Guy like you playing detective all of a sudden?" she started running backwards around him "Gives me a case of the shivers! You getting your pals in on this?"

"Doubt it, they still have to get ready for that party tonight." he'd said it without thinking too much on it, only to raise an eyebrow at Bebe "Speaking of which, were you planning on heading over? The thing at Janice's place?"

"Pfft, parties like that are too slow for my tastes, Ryry." Bebe giggled at the idea "Barely anyone can keep up. Figured a guy like you'd dip out on them eventually."

He shook his head at that and smiled, "Some of us are cursed with a public image to maintain, if I could be where I am by just being good at tossing a ball around then things might be different."

"Oh the burden he bears!" Bebe whimpered sarcastically

"Don't you got a run to finish up?" Ryan asked, noting how much time she was giving him. Story would be showing up soon, and he didn't want her taking up valuable time to joke around with him. Maybe if she were at the party as well, he'd think twice on it.

Thankfully, his reminder seemed to work. She slowed down a bit before looking away and sighing.

"Yeah, yeah I do." she said with less enthusiasm before giving him a thumb's up and taking off "got my own image to keep up after all!"

Ryan checked the time on the clock in the candy shop window across the street. Perhaps if there wasn't a time loop to investigate he'd prepare to give Story lip for not only giving him a timeframe that he'd bested easily, but also failing to arrive in that timeframe himself. Such pettiness would've been able to keep them engaged in combative conversation for at least a while, but the topic at hand was too pressing for such matters.

As he waited, he thought to Bebe unsure if the different meeting was due to time shenanigans or simply running into her at a different point in her run. Sure Parker's hair and story's walls were blatant differences that couldn't be explained away in a simple manner, but there was no proof that small inconsistencies weren't the result of similar quantum shenanigans.

He had to stop himself, focus the scope of investigation or else he and Story would just be wandering around following dead leads. He had to apply the scientific method, develop a hypothesis and follow it, focus on a control group that would be far easier to study. Thankfully, the set up of Janice Wilkman's party already offered him several routes to take. So much so that he'd get his plan ironed out before Story even arrived.

 

[elytra]

Kristi 'Coop' Cooper​

Location: Being Dragged Away
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly )
Mentions: Tammy ( cadence ), Earl ( Kattzillaa )

If she were to be entirely honest, Cooper didn't expect Delia to agree that easily.

Look. She knew a lot of the stuff she did and said and thought was a little...bonkers, to say the least. When she went out to look into things, came up with theories about where Henry went, most of them were reaches. They were hopes. Things she wished would be true, because if they were, she'd have something. No matter what, no matter how bad, it was better than nothing. Because nothing meant that something entirely mundane had happened; a freak accident, a mistake, a walk gone wrong. And if something mundane happened, there wasn't any going back from that. There was no 'fix' that she could discover or anyone to blame. So, she bargained and looked for weird happenings in everything, because if Boulder was some sort of beacon of weird, then that meant that she had something to hold on to.

And Delia supported that. As much as she could, at least. She'd never directly told Coop that she was, in fact, crazy, which was something she appreciated wholeheartedly. But that didn't mean that Delia actually believed anything Coop suggested. It was fine, because of course it was, but it meant that when all this had happened, Coopers first plan had been to just go out alone and figure things out. Delia had crossed her mind, but the thought of having to explain a time loop without seeming like someone trying to badly handle their grief was exhausting in and of itself. But here Delia was, apparently experiencing the same thing, and now dragging her away from the people who weren't.

Which, Cooper felt a bit bad. Tammy seemed confused and not in the least bit happy about it. Earl was....well. Probably about to get attacked, if Tammy's attitude earlier was any indication. That was something she had a feeling she couldn't fix; Tammy was a soda bottle that had been building up pressure and Earl was the guy shaking the bottle. Besides, there were more important things to focus on at the moment, as much as she hated to admit it. If this was going to be a repeat event- more than it already was -then it was better to get started on figuring out what was going on rather than just sit on it.

A part of her felt giddy to be right about something going on. Another part felt guilty for feeling that way.

She allowed Delia to drag her along, keeping pace as much as she could while using her free hand to pocket the photo as carefully as possible in order to not damage it. She hoped they didn't look like they were running away, but with the speed Delia was going, it wouldn't be surprising if they did. She decided against mentioning it or trying to slow down.

"My carvings gone?" That part was odd; she'd assumed the picture had been the only thing changed. But, if the carving was gone, and the picture was changed, then theoretically more things could be different. An infinite number of things, things that they wouldn't notice and no one else would either because they just wouldn't remember. Or would they? If it was something that had been there before everything happened, it would stand to reason that they would notice it was different, wouldn't it? Unless the past had changed, which was a whole different can of worms that her head hurt just considering.

"If it helps," she started, smiling at Delia brightly "I think this town hates us, too. So your hate is totally warranted and valid." She squeezed Delia's hand gently, hoping it would be in some way comforting "Are you....okay? I mean, this is a lot, so it's okay if you're not okay. It's, like, a complete Twilight Zone situation. Not really something we're used to."

 

[elytra]

Martin 'Sock' Wilmore​

Location: The Wilmore Residence, The Cooper Residence Lawn
Interactions: Tammy ( cadence ), Earl ( Kattzillaa )
Mentions: Delia ( cablebelly ), Cooper ( elytra ), Skylar ( Jewel )

On August 16th, like any other day, Martin 'Sock' Wilmore was woken up at 6:15 AM. And, also like any other day, it was not of his own choice.

"Sock." An impatient finger jabbed him in the cheek. He ignored it, hoping that would show how little he wanted to be awoken at the moment. The message was not received loud and clear, seeing as the finger jabbed him again, this time his stomach. "Sock." He flipped over onto his other side. As far as he was concerned, he was still asleep and there was nothing anyone could do to stop that. There was a sigh, and he'd thought he'd won until he heard "C'mon! I have practice today. Get up! It's at 7:30, and I have to be on time." and, after a small pause, "If you don't, I'm getting Hailee and Bernie to jump on you til you listen."

And that, of course, was both a loaded threat and something he wanted to avoid. Penny always made good on promises; she was that sort of person. Usually, he was very proud of her for it. That sort of honesty and dedication was sometimes hard to come by. But when it came to this? That dedication was how he knew that if he didn't get up, she'd march right on out and find both younger sisters and sic them on him. Either way, he was getting up, and he wanted to do it without a headache. Taking advil first-thing was no way to start the day.

But he didn't plan to do it cheerfully. He dramatically flipped onto his back and used that momentum to fling his pillow directly into Penny's face. It hit her solidly, and she staggered back slightly, not bothering to catch it as it fell to the ground. She sighed once more, about as dramatic as he was, placing both hands on her hips. "Really?" She said, as if he were in the wrong and she were completely innocent.

Sitting up, he shrugged at her, rubbing at his eyes with his hands and yawning widely. "Your practice is at 7:30. It's currently..." He spared a glance towards his alarm clock to get a good look "....6:15. We don't need to head out until 7:15 at least." He looked back at her, frowning, not unwilling to show how displeased he was, just like every morning she happened to do this. "Did you have to wake me up?"

"You told me not to use the stove if you aren't there. I want to use the stove." She bent down, picking up one of his t-shirts he'd discarded on the floor. She held it away from her in the manner of a hazmat suited health official dealing with a dangerous biohazard, scrunching up her nose in distaste, before chucking it into his face. It made contact with its target quite easily, seeing as he didn't try to duck. "So, like, get moving already."

And, with that, she turned on her heels and marched out of the room, seeming content with how she'd carried out her mission. He rolled his eyes. Despite being the oldest, he sure did seem to get bossed around a lot anyway. He got up from his bed, holding the shirt out in front of him. The faded Ramones cover art was chipped away after years of love, yet he kept wearing it anyway. He assessed it, before deciding that it was one of the clean ones he'd dumped on the floor last night when he'd been too tired to do his laundry and not a shirt he'd tossed aside carelessly when he was tired and didn't want to bother with the hamper. So, that made it good enough.

By 6:30, he was downstairs making breakfast for all 3 of his sisters, despite Penny having said she wanted to use the stove herself. By 7:00, he was doing all their hair and making sure that whatever outfits they'd picked out were appropriate for the day ahead. By 7:15, he was ushering them all out to the car with the skill of a weathered suburban mother and driving them off to their various destinations of choice. Penny, of course, was going to softball practice, which for some ungodly reason started before school did. Bernie was off to a friends house for the day- he didn't know why it was so early and didn't want to ask in fear that her friends parents would suddenly rescind the offer -and Hailee was taking part in an end-of-summer camp about science. Which sort, he didn't know, but she seemed to enjoy it and it got her out of the house, so that was enough.

By 8:15, he was home again, standing in front of his fathers door with a plate of food in his hands, trying to figure out whether or not he actually wanted to go in.

Because that was the thing, wasn't it? He'd just spent his whole morning taking care of his younger sisters. It wasn't a job he hated, but it wasn't supposed to be his job. He wasn't supposed to have to wake up early every morning to get them ready, nor was he supposed to make their school lunches and drive them where they needed to go and assess the bills and work as many shifts as they'd let him at the Sonic to make sure they had the money to stay where they were, comfortable. It especially shouldn't have been his job for the last 4 years.

His dad was supposed to take care of them. Not the other way around.

But it was what he had, and he couldn't change that. It just didn't make it any harder to try and talk to the man who had locked himself in a room and decided to ignore his kids. Sock sighed, running his free hand through his hair and trying to keep himself cool, before knocking on the door. No answer. That was expected; it was more of a formality than anything else. A warning that he was there and he was going to come in no matter what. An answer wouldn't have changed the outcome any. He twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

The room was a disaster. Not like his room; his room was a controlled disaster. Everything had a place, even if that place was a pile on the desk chair or a stack in the corner. He knew where everything was when he needed it, and as far as he was concerned, that was enough. He spent too much energy keeping the rest of the house looking nice to care. His fathers office, meanwhile, looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Papers were pinned all over the walls and scattered on the floor. There were plates and cups lying around, despite Socks best efforts to clean them up. The cot that had been set up where a couch used to be wasn't made up, and the sheets had been tossed to the floor with little care.

The man himself didn't look much better, going through books on his desk and scribbling things down in his notepad, before tearing out pages and either tossing them towards the trash- not that many made it in -or deeming them good enough to be pinned up randomly on the wall. The 'good enough' ones looked like chicken scratch, making Sock wary of the ones that had been discarded. He had circles under his eyes and a look to him that just made him seem....off. Sock stood in the doorway, seeing if he'd get acknowledged, before walking over to the desk with a little more force in his steps than needed.

"Here's breakfast." He dropped the plate on the desk unceremoniously with no care for the papers it landed on top of "Eggs and toast. The usual."

His dad nodded once, humming a little to indicate he'd heard what Sock had said. Sock waited a moment longer, just to see if he'd give any other sign, before crossing his arms across his chest and scowling. Well, if he'd have to carry the conversation, so be it. "The girls are gone. Bernie is seeing a friend. Hailee's at the camp. She really likes it; probably would like to talk about it over dinner." If you come out went unsaid, seeing as it would be a waste of air to mention. "And Penny is at softball. She's going to have games soon--"

"That's great, Marty." His dad cut him off absentmindedly, flipping to a new page and clearly not listening. It would've hurt more if it had come as a surprise, but it had happened enough times that he'd come to expect it. Instead of trying to continue, he deflated, choosing to retreat out the door and shut it behind him. It wasn't worth the energy to try and get anything more out of him.

He went up to his room to sulk for a designated 15 minutes, before getting back to work on keeping the house functional. By 11, he was heading out for groceries, cane tucked under his arm and reusable bags in-hand. The intent had been to go to his car and head out. He didn't end up getting that far before he was interrupted by the sight- and sound -of the group that had gathered on the front lawn of the Cooper residence. He didn't know Kristi that well, but he had doubts that she was the sort to host a party. He doubted even more that it would happen in the morning.

He appeared to be at the tail end of it. Kristi and Delia were marching off, leaving Tammy and Earl behind. Skylar was also there, but looked to be leaving as well. From what he could see (and, again, hear), Sock couldn't really blame them. There was a lot of shouting, and Tammy looked ready to obliterate someone. That might've been funny, but that someone was Earl and the place it was happening was Sock's neighborhood, so he had at least some responsibility to see what was going on. He headed down the porch steps, walking right across the lawn and approaching them on the street, eyes flickering between the different groups- the 3 people leaving and the two staying behind.

"Hey, guys. What's all the ruckus? Y'know, I usually have a monopoly on causing people to file neighborhood noise complaints." He said, testing the waters to see if the mood was possibly better than what he was reading. "So, uh, this is new. You all good? Like, no one was murdered, right? That wouldn't be great for....well. It wouldn't be great in general, I guess."

 

[cablebelly]

DELIA CARRON
Delia's Very Rockin Car Kindly Named Jerry - mentions: cadence Tammy Jewel Skylar - interactions: elytra Coop

Delia tried hard to ignore Tammy. It was a shitty thing to do, and she knew it. Turning her head away from the girl was like turning her head away from a part of herself, but that was the problem. Tammy was a part of Delia that she just didn't need to see right now. The reckless part, the part desperate to have fun, drown out noise, and forget both today and tomorrow in one fell swoop. But fucking hell, tomorrow was today, or today was tomorrow, whatever, everyone thought she was high and crazy, and in this moment, Delia loathed her party animal image. She just wanted to be taken seriously, and funnily enough, the only person who currently would was the person Delia herself had never taken seriously.

Grinding her teeth together, she spared one look back at Tammy. Her gaze was remorseful, but she didn't have the guts to spit anything out. If she would've it probably would've been along the lines of, talk later, or see you tonight, because apparently tonight was the party all over again. She couldn't handle the way that they all stared at her anymore, the insanity they pinned her under. Delia was painfully aware of the stereotype she found most of her comfort in. It wasn't unlikely to be pinned as just a druggie, an addict, a tripper. It was a completely valid assumption to think whatever was coming out of her mouth was acid bullshit. But she wasn't a liar, even under the influence, and everything about this day felt all sorts of wrong.

At least she had Cooper to prove her right. The guilt in her stomach didn't evaporate, but there was some comfort in the strange thought that hey, maybe this would reset all over again, and she'd get the chance to do it right with Tammy, rather then blowing up in front of the neighborhood and losing her grip on her sanity. She hated that she sort of liked the idea of another chance to do this do-over again. This present loop, however, was still on her shit list, and Delia tried to shake herself out of the existential crisis that was brewing.

Be like Coop, she told herself. Focus on the mystery, the supernatural, the things you can't explain because that's easier than knowing the truth. Coop would find some way to put this truth in a bottle and make it a fixture on her wall, alongside all the other weird things happening in this town. If Delia could just find enough truth to make her life normal again, or however normal her life got, that would be enough for her.

"Yes. Carving's gone. I woke up feeling weird, and then my parents were making the same shitty lunch they were yesterday, and then the whole street poured out when I went and banged on your door. But they don't... remember anything. Why'd they come out feeling the same sort of wrong?" As Delia spoke, she tugged, and her brow continued to furrow deep enough to make one wonder if her face might get stuck plastered in a deep frown. The only thing that gave ease to her features was the squeeze from Coop's hand in hers, and Delia finally gave pause.

"I'm... okay." She tried to chew on the words but they were hard to swallow. "Just took me by surprise. I know you're always going on about this stuff, but..." Delia heaved a sigh, and then shook her head as she started forward again. "I guess I didn't have a reason to think too hard about it, until now." She shrugged slightly. They were reaching her house now, most importantly, her car parked out front. "This town hates me, I hate it, yada yada, I'd just like for it to be hate under our normal, comfortable circumstances. You'll help me do that. Get in."

The door unlocked, Delia slid into the driver's seat in one practiced motion, and the engine sputtered to life after a few seconds of struggle. Then, Delia turned to Cooper, trying to force an uneasy smile onto her face. "I'm your chauffeur, Mistress of Mystery. Where's the Mystery Van headed?"

 

[Kattzillaa]

Earl Ashbridge
Coop's Place
Interactions: cadence - Tammy, Jewel - Skylar, elytra - Sock
Mentions: elytra - Coop​

Earl's freckled face scrunched up a bit as Tammy picked up yet another rock, not really wanting to whacked once again. The hit never came however and he reopened his eyes to grasp the situation at hand. Dehlia and Coop were wandering off on their own to solve this odd mystery. Skylar beginning to leave as well. The ghost seeker hadn't been filled in either which was frustrating because he had the feeling that shit was about to hit the fan or that it already had. His thoughts wondered again to the fact that none of them found it odd they all made it here on the same morning, at the same time, completely unplanned. That was the part of it that really mind fucked him. Then that thing he saw?

Earl's hand ran through his hair and he breathed in slowly. Perhaps he was insane or totally fucked in the head like everyone thought. No. Definitely no. He wasn't going to let Tammy's bullying or anyone else's get to him. He mind shifted focus onto the said woman. Her demeanor had changed as her eyes watched Dehlia and Coop leave without her. On some level he sort of sympathized with her and understood it. On another he didn't care for her at all. A screwed up look formed on his face as if he'd eaten fruit cake, something truly horrible not even he would eat it.

"Uhh... It's fine. You can always come with me if you want?" Earl offered to Tammy in hesitation, read to get nailed with another rock or murdered. He was sure that if Tammy murdered him he'd be the next unsolved cold case for the rest of everyone memories. His eyes wandered over to Skylar's leaving figure after the man had said Dehlia and Coop would take care of Tammy, which they had most certainly not done. Even he had to admit they were... a bit oblivious. Something almost possessed him to call out to them but he refrained, not wanting to make more of a scene.

A shout came from across the street that sort of took Earl by surprise. A kid with pins and trinkets that littered his clothing was calling out to them. It was an interesting style to say the least. Combat boots, a band t-shirt, and ratty jeans that looked like something people expected Earl to wear seeing as how he had no home. This was Sock, someone Earl knew little about but knew of his existence. He was sure Sock knew of his as well.

"Hey, guys. What's all the ruckus? Y'know, I usually have a monopoly on causing people to file neighborhood noise complaints." Earl sort of stared at the kid for a moment, eyes sharp and calculating before relaxing. The kid went on after that. "So, uh, this is new. You all good? Like, no one was murdered, right? That wouldn't be great for....well. It wouldn't be great in general, I guess."

"No... Everyone's alive..." He almost muttered for now after that because their current situation was a rather odd one that Earl did not like at all. Not even a little. He loved mysteries and this one was not his speed but he had to figure it out, Skylar seemed to be the best option. "You can join us if you like." His voice noted to Sock and Tammy as he walked to where Skylar was walking.

He was determined to figure this bullshit out and that meant working with someone. He knew Tammy wasn't open to it but he'd leave an invite.

"Sky, hold up."

 

[Jewel]

Skylar Wiley
Location: The Cooper Residence
Interactions: Kattzillaa
Mentions: cablebelly elytra cadence
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Yeah. Leaving was definitely the move.


Skylar didn’t know what Delia’s problem was. And he was mad about it. The way she glared at him like this was somehow his fault. His fault for her waking the whole cul-de-sac with her yowling, for her making up delusions and then getting all in his face, freaking him out, making herself the center of attention, causing a scene, making everyone worry, and then running away. And then she flipped him off. He rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. This was so not his problem. If Delia wanted to run off and be a weirdo with the second-weirdest kid on the block that was fine by him! They could do weirdo-shit all day long if it made them happy, he didn’t care. He had tons of important shit to do! Loads of shit! So much more important than babysitting Delia’s waking delusions! Good riddance, Delia!

It was kind of weird that she was ditching Tammy though. Weird enough in fact that he actually hesitated to turn away. The two of them did everything together. The most iconic duo since Bonnie and Clyde. Or Sonny and Cher. Or Simon and Garfunkel. Where one was present, the other was inevitably soon to follow. And yet, here Delia was completely brushing Tammy off. Another symptom of her delusions apparently: being a dick. Whatever. She’d come around eventually. Girls were confusing. And Skylar had shit to do.

He began to walk away. There was absolutely no chance in hell he was going to invite Tammy to come with him no matter how sympathetic to her outsider-ness he felt because, again, not is problem, and secondly, yes, he was scared of her. And he was not eager to become the recipient of her rage, nor was he eager to make her the recipient of his and get on her bad side. So, he opted out, and was already a few dozen paces back toward his house by the time he heard Earl calling after him. He slowed but didn’t stop, glancing back toward Earl and the others still lingering outside the Cooper residence. He saw Sock but he was far enough away that he didn’t bother even attempting to acknowledge him.

“I’ve got a lot of shit to do.” He said, his tone still conveying the anger from earlier directed toward Delia. “C’mon Earl, leave Tammy alone to do her thing.” He spoke quieter, sparing a wary glance toward Tammy who he hoped was far out of earshot. “Unless you’ve got some death wish I should know about.”


---


The lake was busy. Swarms of pretty bikini’d girls perched over the stern of a white sportscruiser, sun-hat-clad ladies with coolers under their upper arm, sun-scorched leather-skinned lake-cruising veterans with sandals and dark shades, young, unscathed youths with bare freckled chests, untying and tying ropes at the docks. And the heat permeating over the black cement that sloped down into the lake, cascading away into a greenish murk. Pagan, the dog, pulled the way through the crowds, nose ever pointing toward the next outburst or joyous shriek. Skylar’s preference was to walk the dog around the neighbourhood—but at the risk of running into Delia, Cooper, Tammy, and even Sock, or any of them individually, he avoided the area and went to the lake instead. Earl, urbane and overdressed, could tag along as he pleased.

They passed through and continued walking along the edge of the water. The shouts of the crowd and the sound of whooshing motors faded as they got further out, nearing a line of tall foliage. Skylar unclipped Pagan’s leash and let him run far ahead while he sulked behind in all of his presiding anger which had not yet diffused from the earlier conundrum. Doubts entered his mind, thoughts probing his feelings of being wronged, questioning the validity of his unhappiness, but he was not ready to let his frustration go just yet. Weirdos. Doing weirdo shit together. He repeated the sentiment that he didn’t care, waiting for it to become true. But maybe, admittedly, he was still a little worried that something was wrong with Delia, and Cooper was encouraging it. But whatever. Was probably just none of his business.

Pagan barked from down the hill. Skylar, who had remained mostly silent for the majority of the walk, turned to look at Earl. “Why’d you run to Coop’s house this morning? What was so urgent?” He asked it in passing, the equivocal nature of his remarks touched by a calculated curiosity, as he was beginning his descent to meet Pagan who was pouncing in the underbrush. There, he spotted something tangled in the bushes, something discarded, something metal and something obnoxiously yellow. And there, ensconced in a place behind a thickly vegetated bush beside a fallen log, some mechanical figure sprawled out in the short weeds. It had a comically large yellow head with two wide painted eyes and a round black nose. An obscenely wicked smile plastered from ear to ear, a red torso and candy red boots. Beside the robot a child’s backpack lay in the grass. Pagan stuck his nose into the backpack. Skylar shook his head and clambered over to the robot to inspect it further.

What a piece of crap. “Hey, check this out.” He nudged the broken robot with his foot. It was unresponsive. “It’s AstroLad.” From the popular animated kids show. Same design as like the toys sold in the windows of the emporium. Damn tourists tossing their trash in the lake area. Skylar bent down to hoist the robot’s body up, grunting with the effort of dragging it onto its front. On its back there was a small, flickering little light indicating zero battery. Leaving the robot for the time being, Skylar investigated the child’s backpack, pulling it open to reveal scarcely anything at all. Some rolled up piece of parchment. A nametag attached to the front reading ‘chip’. And a long black cord.

The parchment turned out to be a road map of the western united states, with an illustration of a route traversing from Eureka, Nevada to Boulder City, Colorado, with various tourist destinations circled along the way. Skylar handed the map to Earl and then shook out the backpack in case there was anything else hiding in there. There wasn’t. He returned the cord, the nametag, and the road map back to the bag and thrust it into Earl’s hands. “Hang on to this. I’m gonna try to lift this thing.”


---


Back at Skylar’s garage he set AstroLad up against a wall near the outlet, and after retrieving the black cord from the backpack, he plugged the funky robot in.

The garage was full of clutter. Stacks of cardboard boxes, old antiques, spare parts, odds and ends, oddments, and what have you littered all along the walls and by the foundational pillars. Near the garage door leading to the kitchen there was a long thick-wooded worktable with a couple of computer monitors set up and an out of place fancy office swivel chair set up in front of it. Black cords were taped to the floors, yellow bulbs hung from the unfinished ceiling, and debris was piled wide and high. So much so that the two-car garage could only fit the one car, the other had to remain parked in the driveway, much to Skylar’s stepdad’s irritation. Skylar left the street-facing garage door propped open and he turned on a metal fan, which rattled and whisked away. “This might take a few minutes.” He said, looking toward Earl. “You can put that down wherever. Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

Regardless of whether he wanted something or not, Skylar went to grab a couple of colas from inside the kitchen. It was Sunday so neither of his parents had work. Chris was lounging in front of the television, a beer in hand. No work = day drinking. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but had likely walked to the community garden to meet up with some of the neighborhood moms. Pagan followed Skylar at his heels, panting all the way until he crossed in front of the television, where then Chris threw up a fuss.

“Damn fucking dog. Skylar- Skylar get him off the carpet.”

Skylar whistled. “Here Pagan!”

The dog dutifully trotted over in time for Skylar to almost wack him with the refrigerator door. He took both colas in one hand and returned to the garage, coaxing the brown border-collie to follow him. “Has it booted up yet?” He asked, approaching Earl to offer him a cola while his eyes were fixed on the robot. “Maybe there’s an on-switch or somethin’.” He stepped over a bent bicycle wheel and crouched beside Astrolad to inspect it further.

 

[elytra]

Kristi 'Coop' Cooper​

Location: In Delia's Car, Jerry
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly )
Mentions: N/A

Cooper probably didn't have the answers Delia wanted.

It was exciting for her. It was likely less exciting for Delia. Actually, scratch that, it was definitely less exciting for Delia, who seemed 5 seconds from having a breakdown. That was fair; it was the sort of situation that warranted a breakdown, all things considered, and if Cooper were any less mentally prepared for the possibility of an anomaly happening she'd likely feel the same. But the fact something had happened was invigorating as much as it was stressful. That didn't mean she had any clue what was going on, though.

"....Well, it's kind of deja vu, right?" She voiced, absentmindedly swinging their hands between them as she thought "I mean, you feel like something has already happened, but you don't remember it, it's just a feeling. Maybe this has happened before and we just didn't know it, but now we do." She paused, considering the idea, before deciding she didn't like the sound of it "But I don't know what it has to do with me. I think Tammy and Skylar were just there because of you, actually, so maybe they were all there because you shifted the timeline from what it was yester--" She cut herself off, making a face as she tried to think of what word to use "....today. Yestertoday? I don't know. I'll come up with something better soon."

When Delia said she was alright, Cooper offered her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She probably wasn't okay, but that was fine. They were going to fix it. There was no if, and, or but about it. If the day kept repeating, well, they had an eternity to figure it out, right? The idea shouldn't have given Cooper as much confidence as it did, but she was going to ride that wave as far as it would take her.

She got into the car, making sure to buckle up before slipping out her notebook. As soon as Delia told her she was in charge and mentioned the word 'mystery', she practically started glowing. The excitement was coming off her in waves, and she forgot to tune it down as to not seem like this was something she wanted to happen. It wasn't. She was just a silver-lining sort of person.

"Right! Right, right, okay. So, last night- yestertonight? The other yesterday. Uh..." She frowned, before lighting up again "Loop 1. Alright. Well, during Loop 1, once things rewound, there was a lot of noise, right?" She flicked open the book, flipping through the pages to get to the one she wanted "And light, but I'm putting that to the side for the moment. One of the sounds was like a siren sort of thing. We don't really have a lot of sirens around here that would play that loudly, you know? So we just need to figure out which one it is and start there. It had to go off for a reason, and it's pretty likely that reason is connected to this whole time mess up."

 

[Jewel]

Jackpot!​

Date: August 16, 1983
Location: The Arcade
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Read and Find Out
Collab Post Sponsored By Jewel & cablebelly
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Spoiler: Jackpot!

Cara had a lot of ‘greatest ideas.’ They usually came in rapid fire, and Benny wasn’t exactly sure how every idea could be the greatest, but she never wavered on her logic. It was unlike Cara to waver in any situation, actually, and with him bending to her every whim, he usually found himself all over town before the sun even set if their day started early enough.

He didn’t really know how to admit it, or if it was even necessary, but he usually did appreciate Cara pulling him this way and that, even if he looked a little out of his comfort zone. If Cara and Stella weren’t pushing him out of his shell, he wasn’t sure who would. Boulder was intimidating. People were loud and pushy and did what they wanted when they wanted, and he still couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water. Gawky, uncertain, and stumbling. Cara never made him feel like he was stumbling, even if he was tripping over his feet behind her. She never paid his faults any mind.

Though the surprise interaction with Sarah Pierson had left him a bit rattled, he seemed a little more perked up as they redirected their course to the arcade. His natural posture was always somewhat slouched, hands in his pocket, gaze trained on his feet like there was something to see on his pavement, but it lifted somewhat as they neared the arcade. She had spun up some reason, time to kill, some ‘hottie’ behind the snack bar, but Benny sort of liked it when all the little kids got excited about how he could lift them up and help them shoot all the baskets in the basketball game. So he’d agreed without much rebuttal. It was also the perfect thing to get Pierson out of his head.

The arcade was blindingly neon, and smelled like stale popcorn. Benny was always amazed at how much it felt like a box here, the lack of windows and the shag carpet making it seem like another planet. It was easy to lose any sense of time in here, which was why it was Cara’s number one time killer spot. It was also a killer on his monthly allowance.

Benny dug into his pockets and pulled out a few loose bills. Since she’d paid for the popsicles, it was his turn. “I think I’ve got enough for us both.” He offered with a small smile. “Where you startin’?”


“You already know.” Was her snarky reply. Cara made a beeline for Sega’s boxing sim Heavyweight Champ. It was one of her favorite games in the arcade, and one of the very few which she felt she had a decent chance at getting a good score on. Most of the popular games, Pac-Man, Galaga, Space Invaders, Asteroids, Star Wars, Missile Command, Berzerk-- all of them had been mercilessly obliterated by the initials STW across all scoreboards. And Cara only knew of one STW at Boulder High. Skylar fucking Wiley. Seriously, didn’t that asshole have anything better to do than ruin her chances at placing on any of the leaderboards? It shouldn’t have been that way-- but to Cara it almost felt like a personal attack. Like he was doing it intentionally. As revenge. But more likely, he barely remembered her existence, and was just damn good. Or… a CHEATER.

“God, I hate this game.” Cara said after approximately three minutes of button mashing. The machine had eaten most of her quarters and her precious score was absolute garbage. Time to find Benny and bother him some more. She found him, predictably, surrounded by a hoard of younger kids huddled around the basketball hoops. Cara didn’t really get the appeal of playing basketball inside an arcade when you could just do it outside, but she wasn’t going to be the one to poke fun at his… at his fun. Poke fun at his fun.

Midday sunlight could not touch the purple glazed corners of the arcade and its spacey alien glow. White made unnaturally iridescent by blacklight fixtures painting faces of hyper youths vigorously jerking rigging on circus-clad cabinets with thick monitors. And yet, far away, though jaded by an all-swallowing dimness, sunlight streamed outside a pair of double doors upon the asphalt parking lot shared by the arcade and the dry cleaners.

Cara nudged Benny with her elbow. “Hey, I know we already agreed we’d strike at the party tonight. But do you think we should hit his car?” She kept her voice relatively low. Any of the nearby children could be a spy for Steven Carmichael. And just like that, Cara’s brain had returned to full prank-mode. “Remember last year when we TP’d the Chrysler? We could do something like that again.” A pause. “No, we can’t repeat pranks, that’d be lame. Something else then. Like-- we could steal his stereo. Or empty his oil tank. Or steal his license plate, or put a couple chickens in the backseat. Any idea where we could get a couple chickens?”


“I do already know. Jus’ figured I’d ask.” Benny murmured, watching Cara dart off without so much as a second glance. Not to worry. This was one of the few places in town Benny knew how to entertain himself without Cara to drag him along. He ambled over to the hoops, and all it took was one pass on his own for a crowd of older elementary schoolers to circle around him like he was an NBA champ.

If there was anyone who Benny could relate to, it was kids. The gawky teen seemed to relax among the presence of the booger filled gremlins, and as Benny tossed basketballs into the hoops with comical ease, their excitement grew. They began cheering him on, a little rally of support, and it wasn’t long before Benny forewent the spotlight and picked up one of the kids, putting him on his shoulders so he could enjoy the privileges of being entirely too tall. This seemed almost entirely too natural for Benny, a creature for which everything seemed out of his element. For once in his life, the onslaught of people did nothing to mar his confidence. He watched with a pleasant smile as the kids went wild over a new high score.

When Cara nudged, Benny jumped, and so did the kid on his shoulders. “Hey!” The kid harumphed, his mess of blonde curls and dark rimmed glasses awry over his eyes, jostled by the jump. “Oh. Cara. Sorry.” Benny murmured, readjusting the kid and standing still as possible to allow him to throw his hoops without interference. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, the light in his eyes dimmed slightly as Cara rattled off into her prank crusade.

“Cara, ain’t that a bit m-- ow!” The kid on his shoulders tugged on his ear rather unpleasantly to be led closer to the basket. Benny crinkled his nose somewhat, but made no further noise of discontent, and leaned forward slightly, though he still tried to face Cara while he spoke. “Pranks at school are one thing, but if Steven’s bringin’ his fancy car, won’t he go nuts if you mess with it? Actually mess with it?” Another tug on his ear, another nose crinkle of discomfort, and Benny finally began talking to the hoop instead of Cara. Elementary schoolers could sense fear.

“I don’t know where to get chickens.” He mumbled, spirit dampened once more. “Cara, could we just do the uh, the dance-y one? And forget about the party?” He was horrible at Dance Dance Revolution, but he’d do just about anything to get her head off of stupid Steven Carmichael for a little while.

Cara did not understand why Benny seemed to get his kicks from being run over by a rampant gaggle of prepubescent children who, honestly, did nothing to deserve his niceties. They weren’t even cute. At least, Cara didn’t think so. She wasn’t really a big fan of little kids. She had a couple nieces and nephews that were younger than her, and she’d had a hard enough time whenever she’d been made to chaperone them. Always running around, knocking things over, being vandals, tyrants, crybabies, and sociopaths. Most children were sociopaths. In Cara’s opinion.

“Benny.” Cara set a hand on her hip, speaking to him with a tone of exasperation. No more was her tone quiet. If any of these kids was a spy for Steven Carmichael they could go… choke on an ice cream or something. “Benny,” She shook her head, “Steven, given the opportunity that we have, would not hesitate to make our lives miserable. So why should we spare him? When has he ever gone easy on us? No, Benny. We cannot let our higher morals win this time. Morals don’t win wars. Tactics, planning, and advantages win wars. We have all three.” She tapped out her points on three fingers. “We have the advantage-- he doesn’t know when we’ll strike, and he doesn’t know where, or how. We have the plan. We’ll get his car tonight at the party. The particulars need to be ironed out, but this opportunity is way too good to pass up. I mean-- do I even have to remind you again of all the horrible things he’s done to us this summer? We could be here all day. But that’s besides the point. Because we have superior tactics. Carmichael? He’s alone in this, and it’s clear he’s wearing himself thin. Us? We could do this forever.” Cara had an intensely serious look about her as she gave her speech. Though short, she stood tall, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

“We’re going to win this war if it kills us, Benny. You familiar with the term ‘ride or die’?” Well.” she gave a short laugh, “We’re seeing this through. So don’t you even think of backing out of this one. Why don’t you focus instead on how good it’ll feel to have our senior year be totally prank-free? I mean, once we beat Carmichael he’s never going to dare prank us again. Not after we pull the stunt I have in mind.” She smiled then, a wicked sort of smile. “Scrap the chicken thing. We’re going to do something much better.”

Cara looked to the nearest kid who was waiting impatiently for her to be finished distracting Benny so he could have a turn shooting hoops. Cara curled her lip at him. “Get lost, kid. Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

Turning back to Benny. “If you think it’ll keep you up at night… I’ll spare you the details. But you’re coming with me and you’re helping me. It’s better this way, doing it together. Then Carmichael will know not to mess with the both of us. If I do it alone… there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to protect you, Benny.” She stuck her lower lip out. “You may become the sole victim to Carmichael’s devastation… so really… I’m looking out for you. So you should just do as I say.” She smiled again. “Good?”


Some people could hold grudges for eons. Every misstep was a slash and every harsh word was a wound. They healed with scars, refused to don bandanges, and wore them marred skin like war paint. That was Cara. Some people couldn’t cling onto anger even if another held a gun to their head and forced them against their will. Cara often held the gun, and Benny usually waited for her to pull the trigger.

For a boy who had been dragged by the ear out of the only place that made him happy, Benny held no resentment. He couldn’t bear to be angry with people, and it didn’t matter if he hated them or loved them. It wasn’t an emotion his body could not hold. He didn’t care about getting back at Carmichael, and he didn’t even care if he got pranked again. Steven Carmichael could do whatever he wanted to Benny, and he’d take it all lying down. So why, if Benny was so content to let the world walk all over him, did he care to get in Cara’s way?

He pulled his gaze back to her, and soft brown eyes stared into her soul, trying to search for an explanation as to why she cared so much about this stupid guy who tortured her every day. He could understand it, the desire to get back at someone who made little of you. He could understand it, but he didn’t exactly share it. He could look at her and sometimes, almost catch a glimpse of that same sadness that swallowed him whole. But she always covered it up by dumping gasoline, and striking matches with a mouth full of friction. It was listening to Cara devolve, endless, insistent that left him dried and tired. And he wondered, when she finally won her war, what would be left for her to cling to?

He was slow, but he wasn’t stupid. Benny could see the way she pushed out her lip, and for the first time, he bristled uncomfortably in her presence, taking it to be a mocking gesture. Baby Benny unable to pull himself up, take care of himself. If this was what taking care of anything looked like, he didn’t want it. With a slow, labored lift of his arms, he reached up and gently plucked the child off his shoulders, who had gone slightly quiet when noticing the shift of tone in his mount. When Cara hissed at the children, they flinched, but with Benny’s dismissal, they scattered off fully, no longer entertained.

Benny took a long time to respond. It was like watching him wilt. His posture crumpled, a usual sight, but in his eyes, a strange flicker of fire, followed by a douse of doubt. Even though the words that came out of his mouth were lilted with a sigh, it still seemed to take him a great amount of effort to speak.

“I’ll survive.” He said softly, and then straightened up somewhat. “I think m’ gonna go home, Cara.” Benny gave her an apologetic look, as if the word sorry was stuck on his tongue, and slunk past her like a banished pet.

Cara frowned. Was it something she’d said? Her mind flew back but the words that had come out of her mouth a few seconds were already lost to her. She’d just been talking out of her ass, mostly. “Wait, why?” She immediately turned to follow him, walking briskly to keep up with his longer stride. “Are you not feeling well? Is this about the Sarah Peirson thing? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think you’d come if I’d told you.” she babbled, speaking with her hands.

“I probably wouldn’t’ve.” The response was barely above a whisper, but he kept on walking, forcing himself to keep his eyes down and away from her. Cara would know that he hated to be at home, and followed her just about anywhere to stave off the loneliness he felt in that lifeless house. Still, he seemed to be intent on at least getting out the door.

Cara didn’t make a move to stop Benny but followed him out of the arcade into the blistering sunlight. The heat hit like a tidal wave making her skin broil. “Well-- I am sorry. But we needed her. I can tell her you can’t go to the stupid dance with her-- I’ll say you broke out in hives or something.” She kept following Benny, trying to catch up and keep pace. “Are you seriously going home? Wait- okay? If I’d known you’d get this upset I wouldn’t have even asked her in the first place.”

Only when she asked him to wait did he finally pause. Squinting down at her under the sun, Benny moved his tongue around in his mouth, trying to find the courage to push some actually meaningful words out. He was about to say something else, when her words washed over him, and a new piece of info sidetracked his prepared sentence. “What… are you talking about?” Benny murmured. “The dance?”

Cara stumbled and nearly faceplanted onto the pavement. “The-.” Shit. Had she meant to not tell him yet? “Oh, I thought I told you before-- but don’t worry about it.” She trotted a few more paces to catch up to where he had slowed. “I told her if she spied on Steven Carmichael that you might be inclined to go to the fall bash with her-- but I wasn’t going to actually make you go.” She began to feel a little bad. But she hadn’t been trying to intentionally trick Benny or anything. If anything, she’d been tricking Sarah!

Benny’s hand reflexively shot out to catch her, even if she already righted herself before he made contact. He instantly withdrew, shoving both his hands back into his pockets, and tried to wrap his head around it all. At least Cara was polite enough to spill the whole story now that she’d let it slip. He stood in place for a moment, jaw tight, before nodding almost violently. “Gotcha. I gotcha.” His voice was tight. “Just -- just a bargainin’ chip, right? Leverage? I get it. I get it.” He wanted to get it so bad. He wanted to feel like Cara felt, he wanted to try and understand why she would just about throw anything and anyone under the bus to trade their place with Steven Carmichael. “I… g-g-get it.” The tremble in his voice was an obvious I-don’t-get-it.

Cara was perplexed. Was Benny about to cry? “No,” she shook her head, “No, no. You’re not just a bargaining chip… what the fuck gave you that idea?” She stood facing him, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked up at him with confused sympathy. “You’re my best friend. Don’t be like that-- is something else bothering you?” She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with talking people down from their emotions. She wasn’t exactly known for her empathy, or for her inclination toward the sensitive. She was more of a full-forward-thrust full-speed ahead type of gal. But for Benny, she’d do anything. “Come on.” She exhaled through her nose, shoving down the desire to be frustrated. “Is Sarah Peirson that bad? I think she’d kinda nice once you get to know her. But I said you didn’t have to go. Sorry I didn’t talk to you first.”

Benny swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to steady his voice before he spoke again. It was hard to find the right words to express what exactly he was feeling, because most times, he was barely sure he knew how to even describe it to himself. “She just… looks at me like a…. vulture. Like she’s gonna swallow me whole.” He admitted, shrugging to himself. “And I just… Cara, I don’t like watchin’ you go all crazy over Steven. Alright? Why’s he even worth your -- our time? Ain’t he winning by owning your whole brain? You don’t t-talk about anything else!”

It was Cara’s turn to get defensive. “I-” She frowned even more. “I talk about all sorts of things other than pranking Carmichael. Like--” she fumbled, “Like, like…” A deeply troubled look came over her. “I do! I can. What else do you want to talk about?” She crossed and then uncrossed her arms. Her cheeks were heated. Flustered was one way of putting it. “It’s not the only thing I care about.” she muttered.

Benny, perhaps cruelly, allowed her to falter. “We used to talk ‘bout other stuff.” He said after a while, watching her cheeks heat up and shaking his head, redirecting his gaze to the ground as it was the only place he found comfortable to stare at. “We used to talk ‘bout cars, and go find stuff around the lake, n’ you’d tell me about all the places we might go if we built the… the bike. We coulda been building the bike! But we’re talkin’ about putting chickens in Steven’s car. Why does he…” Benny shook his head. “Maybe you’re the one who’s gonna lose, just by givin’ him so much headspace. Why’s he deserve it?”

“He doesn’t!” she was quick to reply, eager to regain some foothold with her friend. “He’s just-- he’s nothing. I’m sorry.” She raised a hand to rub the back of her neck. “We can forget the prank.” She had been excited about it. But the insurmountable joy that pulling pranks on Steven Carmichael was not worth harming her relationship with Benny. You gotta know when to force your troops into battle, but you also have to know when to pull back. Part of being a good leader, or something like that. “Let’s just-.” She reached out to grab his arm, her face pulled in deep concern. “Let’s just calm down… er. We can get ice cream again?”

Benny straightened slightly, trying to shake off the emotions that had swallowed him. She’d heard what he was saying, he could see it, and now he was trying to hold himself back from saying anymore. She didn’t deserve anymore. He didn’t shy away from her hand reaching out, instead squirming slightly under her touch, but relaxing a moment later. “Um… I’m sorry too. I…”

He was interrupted by a chorus of unhappy voices that burst forth from the arcade. A gaggle of middle schoolers brushed by the duo who stood paces away from the arcade, arguing amongst each other.

“Uhg, dude! I was just about to get the highscore and it glitched out! Can you believe it?”

“Yeah! And the dumb guy wouldn’t even give us our money back.”

Upon hearing this, Benny stiffened. His attention was grabbed by the group as they huffed past, continuing to speak about the strange occurrence inside the arcade. This seemed to strike Benny with a strange amount of fear, and he looked paralyzed for a moment. “Um. Ice cream. Yes. Let’s go.” He said after an awkward few seconds, and hightailed it in the direction of the street.

Meanwhile...

Skylar Wiley
Location: The Wiley Residence
Interactions: Astrolad
Mentions: N/A
______________________________________________________________

Skylar's fingers traced the grooves of a small panel on the back of Astrolad's head. The little red low-battery light had turned off. He felt until he found he was able to pop the panel off, setting it down on the floor while his fingers prodded a small switch which he discovered. Without much preamble or thoughts of caution, keeping his musings internal, Skylar flipped the switch into the "on" position.

 

[elytra]

Astrolad
[ NPC POST ]​

Location: The Wiley Residence
Interactions: Skylar ( Jewel ), Earl ( Kattzillaa )
Mentions: N/A

At first, nothing happened. The Astrolad stayed powerless and slumped over, the large cartoon-like eyes void of any light. It wasn't surprising, with the state it had been in; it certainly hadn't been the cleanest machine, and it wouldn't have been shocking if there was water damage from it being near the lake. What it was doing there in the first place wasn't clear in the slightest. Most models like it were found in theme parks or commercials or at special events at toy stores when a new, cool action figure was being introduced. They were kept in pristine condition and shut down instantly when they were no longer needed, put into special storage units that would keep them from the wear and tear of the outside world. Seeing one unceremoniously dumped in the recreational area was not a common sight.

Despite that, after a minute, the 'on' light near the switch flickered, before going a steady green glow. The robot shuddered, eyes lighting up. Then it sat up rod straight, staring ahead at the wall. "Start up sequence initiated." A feminine voice said from the speaker, the constantly-smiling mouth of the robot flickering between brightly lit to dimly lit along with the words. The left arm rotated momentarily, before falling back to how it had been prior "Limb connections functional. Lights functional. Server conn-- Server connect--" It stuttered, and the entire bot twitched. The lights of both the mouth and eyes flickered, but in a less deliberate way than it had while it had been talking, before the entire thing slumped forwards.

Then, it shot bolt upright again, though in a more lively manner than it had originally. It jumped to its feed, before stumbling back when it found that it was, in fact, attached to the wall with a charging cable. Despite having an inanimate face, it managed to look surprised, reaching behind itself to tug out the plug in order to walk freely. Once that was done, it kicked its legs one at a time, seeming to test them out, before also rotating its arms in the same sort of manner. It was only once it was done that it noticed it wasn't alone in the room.

"H- Hell--" It stuttered, voice now one of a younger male, though muffled and staticky as if it was being done through an announcement system. It paused speaking, lights dimming; there was some clicking, and then they were back full force, managing to make the robot look satisfied with itself. "Hello!" The voice box issue, it seemed, had been sorted out. It tilted its head at Skylar, seeming to focus on him the most since he happened to be the closest. "Who are you? I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, but we won't be strangers if you tell me your name!" It continued quite cheerfully. It could have been a pre-determined set of lines; after all, they were created to interact with children.