❥▐ cupid's brew

Evan Allen Walker:
{~~~Day 4 (3/4)~~~March 17th, 2016, Thursday~~~Location: Enemy Territory(The Inn)~~~Mood: To the Morning!~~~Music~~~Ooc:~~~}

Evan woke up that morning feeling nice and refreshed. Last night, while not fruitful in any investigative means, was still a ton of fun. He quite enjoyed it and wished that all nights could be like that one. Nice, peaceful, and just all around festivities. No sort of cultist massacre like thing at all, just harmless fun with a fellow adult. However in order for that sort of ideal future to be found, Evan knew this case would have to be solved post haste. Last night was just a good reminder of why it needed to be solved though. As he got out of bed he saw his blond roommate answer the door to who he assumed to be Maria. He started to wonder what that was all about but he figured he'd catch up from the other adults later. He went to his bathroom and got dressed in a different garb than usual. He wore green sweatpants and a green t-shirt. Afterall it was Saint Patricks day today.

With all the prep work for the start of the day done, he figured it was a good idea to get on with the main event. Though he didn't really know what that would entail. He figured given their new found information they would go and talk to Patrick about the whole atlas difference thing and maybe later run some more theory/test work on that whole 'everyone has green eyes' thing that's going on. He decided to go check with the other adults what exactly was going on at the moment, so he left the room in search of them. Looking in the dining hall he found all of two people. Interesting. Either everyone else wasn't up, which he didn't think would be the case, or they were all having some sort of get together/meeting thing. He walked around the rooms and saw the Cherry Red Tucker standing there. Furthermore one room was just open and there were a good deal of people in there.


His suspicions of the adult (and a teenager) meeting were confirmed and as he walked closer he found there to be some sort of tense air permeating throughout the place. Did something happen? Did he miss something super crucial? He looked at Zoey and his mood slightly soured at seeing her damaged figure. Some sort of **** did go on and he wasn't aware of it. If Evan was the type to get angry, especially at himself, then his face would've had a different expression than that of his usual happy go lucky self. However, with his usual smile on his face Evan just walked into the room. "So uh, morning folks? Something big going on?" He started bracing for the worst possible answer, though it didn't actually show in any change of his expression.

 

Frederick "Freddie" Anderson
DAY: 4 - 3/4 | DATE: March 17th, 2016 | LOCATION: Inn

Freddie stood there in stunned silence in the bedroom. "Wha- wha- I- I don-" He had been reduced to a stammering idiot after having heard Zoey's explanation of last night. "That's just- I don't even-" His mind suddenly exploded into a cacophony of paranoid thoughts. With what she just said, that means that there was a possibility that the people missing from the group are dead. Deader than dead. Fucking mutilated. So then... that means... that Sophie could be... No. No way. There was no way in hell. Maybe she could've gotten away. Yeah, she could've gotten away and just hasn't found her way back yet. But she said that they found two people. Maybe she was kidnapped? Yeah. It's still bad that she got kidnapped, but at the very least, she is still alive. Freddie held out hope that she was still alive. If anything had happened to her, that would ruin him. It was very possible that he could end up like Bryan. Or worse. We've got to go and find her. We have to. We have to!

"We have to..." The thought became so powerful that he said it out loud. "We've got to find her. If there's even the slightest chance, we have to find her..." He had been blankly staring at the floor, muttering to himself. However, he came back to reality when he looked at his little sister's hand and saw that it was newly red. Was that when she grabbed his arm? Shit. That's not good. He caused her hand to start bleeding again. What good was he if he couldn't protect her last night. Useless. Useless useless useless useless. "I haven't been doing a very good job of being your big brother, have I?" He knelt down next to Zoey. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

As he knelt next to her, he noticed a blood stain forming on her pants leg. There was a lot more damage to her than she was letting everyone know. He imagined that the wounds on her hands extended up onto her arms. Just how badly injured is she? This wasn't good. He needed to keep her safe. If he couldn't keep her safe on this trip, then he wouldn't be doing what he came to do. "From this point on, I swear I will keep you safe. I swear it! Even if that bastard of a father couldn't keep you safe, I swear I will!"

"But first, I think, maybe, we should try redressing your wounds. Does anybody have a medical kit or something like that?" He stood back up and posed the question to the people still in the bedroom. There was no way he could just leave her like that, with some bandaging she probably did herself.

 

w e l c o m e, xxxxxxxUSER!​ ​ ‹‹ CONTROL PANEL OPTIONS ›› xxxxwearing • hair • music • ooc

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The chair in Bentley was far more comfortable than the one in Whittlerose. Dakota was sure it was laced with some kind of aromatic sedative. It wasn't natural to become so exhausted just by sitting down - not for her, at least, but as soon as she curled up into the cushions she was swept away into one of the deepest sleeps she had ever fallen into.

The activity at the festival had gotten to her. It wasn't everyday that she spoke with and did social things with someone else. It had been years, minus the awkward visits from Erik. She decided that festivals and such celebrations weren't too bad.

When she stirred, it was already approaching 10am. Not waking up first among others was ... strange, to say the least. Footsteps ruined the quiet of the inn, alerting her that others were up and about.

She trudged to the bathroom to make herself presentable and then left to explore. No one was eating breakfast, which was strange. She was hungry! It took a bit more wandering around before she finally stumbled upon some place.

For the sake of plot convenience, Dakota eventually stumbled upon Zoey's room [ or wherever they all are ] and overheard a lot of chit chat. Feeling anxious, she sat down outside by the door to listen in without intruding.

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Spoiler: x

A sheet of static only briefly blanketed the screen, but after a second it dissipated slowly as a rough, low-poly image, blocky and mired with blue and green artifacts, came into place. The camera jittered around, and the sides of the image were almost in a constant blur. It took ages to focus in place, but eventually the image was clear enough to display two people in lab coats; a tall man fixated to incomprehensible scrawlings on a yellowing whiteboard, and a stout, chubby, dwarfish lady near him, glancing up with a menacing leer.

"Camera's runnin'!"

The lady suddenly glanced towards the camera. "Tha' terrible thin'? You thinkin' we be mad? Bloody knocker, why don't you ain't just get an' find me own recording for this here ol' thin!" Her fiery storm of hair puffed out and about as her plump red face seethed and gesticulated in frustration. She walked closer, her prosthetic leg tapping hard on the floor, ready to grab the camera man. The view quickly began to back away.

The tall man continued to stare at the whiteboard.
"Professor, can't you just let that idiot film this?"

"Nou!" She swiveled around on her good leg, pounding her hips with balled fists. "If they's want somethin' or th'other like this here ol' thing to record for the publication then there ain't not gonna be on my watch somethin' little bloody gobshite of a veritably terrible 240p jay-pee-gee garbage hobsmash under my esteemed name. Ye thinkin' of tarnishin' me good name in the entire preponderance of academic existence ye thinkin'!" Her accent was extremely heavy, but it cushioned her eclectic mix of vocabulary well.

"Prof!" Called out the camera man, further backing away from the violent little professor and the man by the whiteboard. "It's okay. I'll uh-- I'll convert it. Or-- or something. But just get back to work, I need to see you and nerdpants there solve th--"

"Prof?" The little professor suddenly turned a whole new undiscovered shade of pinkish red. "Ye be callin' me prof like I ain't one a yer bozo friend clowns just jankin' all up with the tarnished eloquence that one ain't gonna attribute to the versimilitudinous existential dithyramb parties y'all gon' keep flying up like a buncha squabs on the roast fire and--"

"Professor Hennessey."

The camera view and the professor turned back to the man at the whiteboard, his deep voice silencing this ephemeral little squabble. The room, for a fleeting moment, was quiet enough to hear the tell-tale tapping of stark, weighty rain.

"I need some of your advice with figuring out the generational line of descent regarding eye colour alleles, uh, here--" The man stuttered a bit, his words falling off. "The expression of the HERC2 gene over the five generations of Percival County citizens in the data we have gathered, it looks like, uh, there's something kind of faulty. Missing. This pattern doesn't match the data we've got."

The camera man was silent. Hennessey hobbled over to the tall man, her shoulders rising and falling with each step like waves on the ocean. She glanced hard at the written scribbles on the whiteboard, but the view did not zoom into the content.

"Huh. Ye've got some idea there?"

"Maybe." The tall man lowered his head in thought, holding his chin.

The tall man told Hennessey his little idea on the eye colour discrepancies. Throughout the explanation, Hennessey's sharp, beady eyes rose in understanding.

When the tall man finished his explanation, the camera man walked closer to the whiteboard.

"Ye've got to test it out, if ye can," Hennessey said. "Geographic implication sure ain't somethin' that can be considered completely fer a thin' like this, yeah." She turned away and nodded to herself. "More like a mutation in the EYCL1 gene expression, but that would mean somethin' or th' other wi' the HERC2 ... "

The room was once again devoid of chatter as the rain hit the walls of the laboratory.
"Got the entire thing on tape, Tor," the camera man said. "This'll be gold for our first paper on gene expressions, don't cha think?"

Torvald chuckled, his voice lighter and like honey. "I hope so! I uh, it would be great. But the Professor needs to still keep us undergrads in check."

When the camera turned to Hennessey, her expression seemingly changed. It had become more stern, pained, as if she held to cinderblocks on her conscience. The tiny ends of her teeth bit her lower lip, and her fox-like face set itself into sharp angles of weary consideration. The camera view suddenly flew off below and focused on the ground, away from the talk.

"Ye two," she said in a softer voice. "Ye two, you ain't still thinkin' about goin' overseas, are ye?" Her words were lined with toxic caution.

The view shook for a split second. "People are dying," Torvald said.

"Bloody Syria's already a mess. Ye ain't gonna change nothin'."

"Professor Hennessey. With all due respect, I don't give two little cares if we aren't able to--"

"And ye think tha' they'll give two lille cares if the bloody government kills--"

"Wait! ****, ****. I left this thing on."

The view changed from the floor to some point on the wall as the camera turned off, and the video ended. The last words were Hennessey's vicious, wrathful swears.

xxxxxx Torvald closed the video file and set his phone aside, leaning forward and rubbing his forehead in weary fatigue. The room was dark, and the beds were unkempt. Pads of paper bearing terrible handwriting and messy diagrams littered the floor around Torvald's side of the creaky inn bed. Some pads were yellowed, some were ruled, and some were more taped sheets of paper than anything. Thank Marx for Cane's incessant throwing of office supplies at him -- it provided a steady source of stationery to help him brainstorm while bypassing the grueling task of asking another person.

Chalky sunbeams entered the room through the gaps in the shut blinds, casting a ghostly glow in the darkened room. Torvald stood up and walked over to the closest window, pulling the blinds cord with a quick swipe and releasing the sunlight back into the dark space around him.

{ 1 0 : 0 0 }​

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He looked back at his squat little phone resting on the bedside table.

Green eyes, green eyes ... it was certainly true, by the revolution, every Bentley native had green eyes. This was preposterous! Squabs-- uh, rather, scumbag fat cats. Right. Torvald cleared his throat. They had green eyes, and-- and this coincidence was driving Torvald in half. But this was not a small scale mutation, like the research four, five years ago? Four years ago. This was on a huge scale. And all this time, it had been underneath his-- their noses.

That is, except for the fact that it was impossible that this was a mutation. There was something at work here -- something revolutionary. Torvald posed in the sunlight, looking away from the window, his front drowned in shadow.

But ... ah ...
Torvald looked back to his phone and was silent in deep thought.

He walked over and sat back on his side of the bed, kicking away one of the messy paper pads by his feet. As he picked up his phone and began to punch in a number, he tried to keep his fingers from shaking ever so slightly.

Ring, ring ...

Beep!

...

... Hello. This is the ... Molecular Biology and Genomics Faculty of the University of Vincristine, West Percival. You are speaking to the receptionist ... how may we help.
Uh.

...

Yes, I need to ask you a question.

...

... Your voice has become quiet, monotone.

Is that--

Who? What?

... You don't-- who is this?

A graduate student.

Which one, then ...

It doesn't matter.

...

I just need you to answer a simple question quickly if you can.

...

Okay, right, fine ... what is it that you want?

... Is Professor Hennessey available?

... She left.

I- What?

... She's in Mozambique to help with the crisis. The University of Vincristine has no way to contact her at the moment ... on her final day, she burned her bridges very badly. I'm sorry ...

Why did she-- that-- that bloody hypocrite.

... Don't beat yourself up about it, Tor.
Maybe you should just blame yourself and the others back then.

What?! Wait! You--

Can you at least give Cameron my regards?

... No! No, I just-- no, I can't, I mean-- god damn.
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Torvald cut the call off quickly before he could continue that morbid conversation. His face had broken into a cold sweat. Small beads curled down his forehead as he bared his teeth in frustration and touched a hand to his temple. This was-- ****, this was ridiculous. He couldn't think straight. Maybe he just needed breakfast ... right, ahaha ...

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When Torvald heard all there was to say, hiding by the open door as Kline went off and talked about the incidents last night, he tried hard to keep his knees from shaking. His heartbeat was quick, and he gently grinded his teeth behind his taut lips. But at the same time, a wave of apathy washed over him. His spine was sore, and his stomach inflamed; the feelings brought back by memories that re-occurred again and again and again. His joints ached, and his breaths became heavy.

Freddie called out for a medical kit.
Right ... ah, aha, that's right. Torvald briefly went back to his room, picked up his first aid kit, and walked lethargically over into the common room where the others sat.

His eyes were tired and heavy, lined with frustration and caked with remorse. He wasn't able to get much sleep at all these past nights, and learning about Bentley only seemed to invite mystery after mystery.

The others did not exist to him right now.

There we are. Only the goal. Only the patient ...

He knelt beside Kline, and opened his kit, picking up a roll of bandages and alcohol.

<< Kline, please be still and be calm. >> Torvald's voice had completely changed, and had becomed more honeyed, delicate, sweet. It felt almost motherly. At the same time, it frayed at the edges, and yellowed with age, as if this particular tone was one he wished to keep away forever, but always washed up in his mind simply from his habits of regret. << It will be alright. We, the revolution, will protect all of our citizens. Please tell me where your wounds are. The alcohol may sting, so I ask the brother of Kline to hold onto her sister's hand. To the others, I-- we must figure out what happened. I refuse to leave with comrades left in enemy territory. >>

His voice felt like it echoed in his head. His hands were careful, but they succumbed to minute trembles as he went through this scene for the billionth time. Some things had never changed, even after these three years.









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ஐ ...Days go on forever, but I have not left your side...ஐ​

ʑoey Ⓐmber Ӄline​

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[OOC//Outfit-♣|Thoughts: Why...|Place: Inn at Bentely|Mood:Shaken up/Apprehensive|Music: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)|Day: 4/4]​

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"I haven't been doing a very good job of being your big brother, have I?" He knelt down next to Zoey. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."​

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Zoey's eye finally focused on her brother when he spoke to her. For a moment, she forgot he was even there. The room had been completely silent when she explained her story. She was still shedding some tears, and she felt really tired, but her brother kept her focused and alert. "Freddie... It's not-" He knelt down by her, cutting her off from saying anything else. ​

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"From this point on, I swear I will keep you safe. I swear it! Even if that ******* of a father couldn't keep you safe, I swear I will!"​

Her eye widened as she stared at her brother. She raised her head up from her knee as tears fell down her cheek. Before he had a chance to stand up after he called for a medical kit, she let her good leg touch the floor and then hugged her brother tightly. She inhaled deeply, burying her head in his shoulder as she hugged him tight despite the soreness she felt in her limbs. "Thank you," she whispered to him. "Thank you so much..." She let go of him and then sat back in her chair. Though she was somewhat in shock from all that had happened previously, she felt her head clearing up now that she had it out in the open. At the same time, she feared for everyone's safety. Perhaps by telling them all what was going on, she also put them in danger.

Zoey was surprised to see Tarvold come in the door, his first aid kit in hand. "Tannhauser," she whispered. She could see that he looked just as drained as she felt. But he wasn't at the lake last night? Was he? No, she didn't see him there. Or hear him for that matter. He knelt next to her and got some bandages and alcohol out. She took in a sharp breath, not looking forward to this part.

<< Kline, please be still and be calm. >> Torvald's voice had completely changed, and had becomed more honeyed, delicate, sweet. It felt almost motherly.

His voice seemed to calm Zoey down even more as if she took her anti-anxiety medication already. It made her miss home for a bit, but she tucked that feeling somewhere in her head and looked down at him with a little smile trying to show on her lips.

<< It will be alright. We, the revolution, will protect all of our citizens. Please tell me where your wounds are. The alcohol may sting, so I ask the brother of Kline to hold onto her sister's hand. To the others, I-- we must figure out what happened. I refuse to leave with comrades left in enemy territory. >>

The girl nodded her head and then instead of told him where they were, she gingerly took off her sweater. Up her arms were many scratches and bruises, especially on her forearms where she had fallen many times. She let the sweater fall to the floor before she bent over with a wince to roll up her pant leg on her left leg to show her scraped up knee. "I agree with Tannhauser," Zoey said in a quiet voice as she pulled her pant-leg away to reveal one nasty scrape that hadn't been bandaged yet. She saw the crimson in the corner of her eyes and then looked to the side as she sat back up in her chair. She couldn't see the blood, not now. She let her bloody hands rest on her lap, palms facing up so her friend could see the blood on her bandages.

"I think what I told you put all of you in danger," Zoey said in a hushed voice, glancing up at Julius. "We need to get out of here, fast. We can't stay at the Inn any longer. Patrick knows we're here. He wants us dead. We need to get out of here, but we're not going to leave our friends behind. No way. I'm staying, but I think those who don't want to be here anymore should go. They shouldn't have to face hell if they don't want to."

 

A • N • X • I • E • T • Y
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❝They'll explain.❞

I looked over at MARIA HARTWICK and then back to the others. Slowly, I was beginning to have the feeling that I shouldn't have let myself be dismissed from NICO's side last night. Bentley gave off a dangerous aura as it was, and if something had happened to her . . . ERIK began to ask ZOEY for details, anything she could remember from the previous night, and I almost pressed her as well since my curiosity wasn't sated at all.

❝Lucas, Freddie, if you're willing to help, will you tell everyone it's best for them to head home while we're gone?❞

I blinked at the question. It wasn't as if I didn't comply with providing assistance, but NICO was not here to direct me, and . . . This was a peculiar situation for myself, but I couldn't panic — not that I would in the first place.

❝I would like to know the situation first, in full.❞ I replied plainly, and then JULIUS followed up by asking about the state of things.

❝Cane told me not to tell!❞ I narrowed my eyes. Cane, the innkeeper, yes? She also knew something about this, and if ZOEY was not going to comply, then I would have to turn to her and see for myself what has happened. Moments of silence passed and eventually I was out of my chair and about to leave the room until the girl spoke again. ❝I'm sorry, I'll tell. I don't think I can sleep anyway.❞

With that, we all began to listen to her story, and when she began to speak of the lake, campfire, and mentioned 'cult', I had figured as much. The Patrick fellow headed the operation? I had thought he was on our end of the stick, but apparently not. A game of hide-and-seek? I remembered once meeting the man named Kevin; he had seemed like the cheerful sort. How did he end up apart of such a thing? He had disappeared those three years ago, hadn't he? They had found him hiding out in Bentley . . .

I felt anxious, inwardly pleading to hear anything about NICO's well-being, especially since it was a Battle Royale-style event that kept all the teenagers at the lake. Had she been involved? She was nineteen, no longer a teenager, so why would she even have to participate?

Next to me, FREDDIE was stuttering at the situation, and I was at such a loss for myself, but it wasn't over the fact that probably quite a few people had died during this 'hunt', but that NICO wasn't here, and that I was undirected with what I should do. ❝We have to . . . We've got to find her. If there's even the slightest chance, we have to find her . . .❞ I looked to him next to me, and he was muttering to himself at the ground. If he was talking about NICO, he was right, but the others would most likely not care to find her. I had to find her — and I wouldn't leave Bentley until I confirmed that she was either dead or alive.

From my pocket, I pulled out my phone, even though I knew there was no reception. Would the tracking chip I implanted in her phone work? I quickly type in the passcode, and then tap around to open the application that I created. After inserting the next code, I confirmed and waited.

⌊ N O T • F O U N D ⌉​

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Usually, LUCAS CYGNETTE has complete and perfect control over his emotions, but there has been a time or two in the past where he has completely lost it, and those situations usually involved having lost his beacon of light.

After slipping his phone back into his pocket, he removed his glasses, seeming and looking quite calm, and then pulled out a cleaning cloth to wipe away any dirt or grime on his lenses. It was a method he often used to calm himself and think, and if the situation called for it, he would stand around and do it for hours.

Even without good reception, SOPHIE's tracking chip was by satellite, which shouldn't even be effected by the area they were in. She could be in Siberia, and he would be able to track her down to the exact location her phone gave him. What was it about Bentley that cancelled this truth out?

❝I must find Sophie.❞ he addressed the others, and then slipped out of the room before they could protest. There wasn't much feeling or care to spare for any of the others in their group when he didn't know whether or not she was alright. On his way out of the room, Lucas passed TORVALD, who had gone inside to see to ZOEY's condition; Lucas barely paid him an ounce of attention. Sitting next to the door was the dark-haired girl, what was her name again . . . ?

❝You have it, right?❞ he asked her, looking down, ❝Patrick's address. Could you share it? I would like to go see him.❞ It was more of a demand than a request, but Lucas had to be cordial to get what he wanted, unless she'd rather him force it out of her. He hadn't been there when Cane originally gave them the address and number, but SOPHIE had mentioned something about it.

❝By yourself?❞ Lucas looked over his shoulder to see BRYAN kneading out his own arm. He was walked past, and he leaned into the room to adress the others, ❝Hey, we're going to see Patrick, like now. So for whoever's going, could you get ready now?❞

Lucas narrowed his eyes, but if this was what had to be done . . . He had a direction for the moment. Find and extract information from Patrick, by medieval methods, if necessary.​

 

♔: ♠ « MUSIC ♠ « WEARING ♠ « ✉ 0 ♠ « OOC: N|A ♠ :♔
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He wasn't really paying attention when Maria approached him. He didn't even lift his head. Then, some words he couldn't really unscramble reached his ears and he was being lifted up and talked to the inn. He clutched Pierce's bag in one hand and went willingly, despite not exactly wanting to be around anyone. His eyes were so tired ... He felt sick.

Tucker lead him up the stairs and to the second floor. They stopped in front of a room ... Had he slept there the other night? Oliver didn't remember. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. Oliver sat down on one of the beds, clutching Pierce's bag to him still. Tucker handed him some clothes. His clothes?

❝Outside everything we wait have others. join to Change. be I'll Don't worry, the will then alright. ❞ The reddish blonde-haired boy looked up at Tucker with a flicker of confusion in his green eyes. ❝done, just When you're out. come. ❞

Uh. ... Whatever.

Tucker left and Oliver breathed in deeply. He felt gross. Wet, dirty ... Oh. That's what the clothes were for? He stood up and gently placed Pierce's bag down like it was made of glass, before peeling off his sticky clothing and replacing them. He had to admit, it felt better, but not enough to lift his mood any. He sat back down and toppled over onto his side. He wanted to sleep.

Just as he was beginning to successfully tune out the world, Tucker reentered. Some kind of talk was going on. Oliver rolled out of bed, taking Pierce's bag with him, and followed Tucker to the next room quietly.

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✌ CLOTHES≛ MOOD» DETERMINED ≛ TUNES≛ LOCATION » BENTLEY INN≛OOC ✌​

Tucker hung outside the door for a moment and after some time he decided to reenter the room, hoping he wouldn't catch Oliver in between a really awkward changing moment (at least, awkward for him). He approached him, with own expression falling into deep concern, Oliver looked terrible. He placed a gentle hand on his arm, "Come on, we should go and meet with the others." He slowly helped him out again and lead him out the door.

Maria was just outside and he sent her a small smile, but his concerned expression didn't leave him as he walked Oliver to the other room. He sits Oliver down by one of the beds and makes sure he's as alright as he can be. He then stand beside him and looks at the others. He was about to start talking, about to suggest that they should do something with not really knowing what but Lucas exits the room before he can. His words could be heard from inside.

❝Patrick's address. Could you share it? I would like to go see him.❞

Lucas was going on the right track. This was the original plan after all, to see Patrick, today and get to the bottom of things. How could he forget? Now, he knew - no, they all knew that lying around and wasting time was no longer an option. This place was as dangerous as Lightbrooke was. They had to keep moving or their numbers would keep decreasing. He gulped, thinking about seeing Patrick. After what Maria just told him, this all seemed crazy, like they were walking straight into a battle field in a battle they probably wouldn't win - but that didn't mean it was a battle they couldn't win.

❝By yourself?❞

❝Hey, we're going to see Patrick, like now. So for whoever's going, could you get ready now?❞

Bryan's words rang in his head as he looked at everyone in the group, "I suggest not all of us going. We should split, seeing Patrick will be dangerous - too dangerous for most of you." he looked at the kids, wishing they wouldn't decide to tag along. They were just kids and he hated seeing more and more kids go. Well, he honestly didn't want to put anyone into more danger but that was kind of out of the question now. He also looked at Maria for a second. He couldn't stop anyone from choosing to go which way, but considering things, he just didn't want to put the people he looked at in more danger by going to see Patrick. He cleared his throat, "You should leave though, sticking around could be just as dangerous. We can't really trust any-"

His words get cut off as a certain black haired, green eyed Bentley inn keeper entered his mind. Cane never had forsaken them before, well not directly speaking. Plus, he did witness her fighting for the package. That meant something right? He was silent for a moment as he thought about the strange girl. Was it worth trusting her?

"We can't trust anyone." he finished, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself, he didn't want to risk it. If he suggested trusting Cane and she turned out to betray them then it would be too much for him to handle. "I'm going." he said sternly and for a moment his eyes awkwardly danced amongst the others in the room and he shot them a smile. He was sure about this. "I have a map in my bag, I'll get all my things now so we can get moving." With that he slipped out of the room without hearing from anyone else. He brushed past Maria, his chestnut eyes watching her as he did. He wish she'd decide not to come along.

He walked down the hall in solitude. He kept telling himself not to be scared. This wasn't his father. This wasn't anything to do with him. This was for his friends - alive and departed. He kept telling himself to be fearless because these weren't the things that he feared. It was scary, but there were plenty other things that scared him even more. Plus, he wanted to help. He didn't want it to be like before, where he didn't do anything and all those little boys would end up in the same situation he was. Never again. He could definitely do something now.

As he entered the messy and empty room he stuffed all his clothes into his backpack, pulled out the map from its pocket and then strapped it on. He held the map tightly in his hand, staring down at it for a moment. This was a deadly game but he was surely not going to back down. Compared to everyone, he had something - no, someone to protect: these kids, Torvald and Lucas, the ones missing, his friends Erik, Bryan, Julius... and Maria. Though he didn't really feel like he had something to lose, unlike the others. Who were evidently crumbling with these emotions. Of course he was too, but not for the same reasons. He needed to still be that light to them, even through this. So it might as well be him who goes down to the danger zone.

He made his way back to the group, holding the map out in front of him. "I imagine you guys have your own maps, so here's another. Anyone can have it. We should go."

 

w e l c o m e, xxxxxxxUSER!​ ​ ‹‹ CONTROL PANEL OPTIONS ›› xxxxwearing • hair • music • ooc

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Outside of the door Dakota listened, her breath shallow and small. Delicately, her chest pressed against her knees, and arms wrapped around herself to keep her bundled up a ball against the peppermint scented walls.

She could only pick up pieces of the conversation, but all she really had to know was that something horrible had happened and she had been completely oblivious to it. Her and Evan had walked through the festival doing stupid things like flying kites and feeding goats water, while others were enduring some kind of hell below them. Dakota had managed to enjoy herself in the midst of some kind of horrible tragedy.

Without sound or warning, the recently elusive Torvald appeared. He stood outside of the door right by her, although he did not acknowledge her. Why would he? Her face buried it's way into her arms and she breathed shakily into the black jacket she wore. If only she could curl up small enough to disappear. This was horrible!

Suddenly, in the middle of her drowning in self pity;

『 You have it, right?』

What were they talking about now? Dakota took another breath.

『 Patrick's address. Could you share it? I would like to go see him.』

Suddenly, her head snapped up. He was talking to her! Wide, gray eyes peered at him for a moment before darting away. Her shoulders rose and fall with each slightly panicked breath. Patrick's address? They ... weren't going there, were they?

『 U-um ... 』

『 By yourself? ... Hey, we're going to see Patrick, like now. So for whoever's going, could you get ready now?』

Aaaah.

Dakota crawled a bit away from the doorway, feeling anxious. She buried her head back into her arms nervously. Oh, right, Patrick's address! Shakily, she reached into her purse for it and slid it across the wooden planks beneath them towards Sophie's ... beau, or whatever he was.

『 I suggest not all of us going. We should split, seeing Patrick will be dangerous - too dangerous for most of you. 』

『 Staying. I'll stay. Uh. Take the ... the atlases. Oh. 』

She reached into her purse again and pulled them out, pushing them over towards the doorway like she had the piece of paper Cane had given her. For a minute, she wondered if and hoped that the address was legitimate.

With that out of the way, she buried her face back into her knees.

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⎝ DAY 4┊4/4 ⎞ ❧ ⎝ DATE┊MARCH 17TH ⎞ ❧ ⎝ LOCATION┊PATRICK'S HOUSE ⎞​

⎝ MOOD┊DETERMINED ⎞ ❧ ⎝ ❤??┊0% ⎞ ❧ ⎝ WEARING ⎞ ❧ ⎝ OOC┊ — ⎞​

Bryan walked around just in time to hear that the group would be splitting up into people who were going home, and people who were staying. That was fine with him; less people to worry about dying, and then actually less people to care about when/if they died.

Zoey's story about the Hunger Games-esque adventure from the night before was pretty disgusting, and it pissed him off to wonder if Noëlle had to take place in something like that. Hunting her like she was a helpless doe. He clenched his fists in rage, but Julius sensed it and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took him a moment to calm down.

Tucker began to talk in agreement with him, and Bryan felt inwardly relieved that he was still around. Every now and then, there was a surfacing of the less psychotic side of him, and he felt scared at what was going to happen, but with Tucker around, it was easier to deal with those emotions and steel himself for what was going to happen. Unstable or not, he was determined to find out what happened to Noëlle, and definitely wouldn't spare any effort to do it. For now Patrick was their only real lead, and he would beat the shit out of him for the answers if he had to. He would tear this entire town apart, if he had to.

"I imagine you guys have your own maps, so here's another. Anyone can have it. We should go."

Bryan grabbed the map from Tucker and gave it a once-over, pinning Patrick's house immediately from the address they had been given. They were down near the entrance of the Inn, standing around with their bags. Everyone who wanted to trip to Patrick's was here, and they were ready to go. He gave the group a once-over, and then looked to Julius, who nodded. He addressed those who weren't going, and gave them a map, "Here's where we're going," he began to explain, "We'll be there if you want to join us."

He then walked up to Cane and spoke in a low tone to her, "I don't know much about you and your ties to this town, but you don't seem like the others. I hope you'll consider that when these others are staying. Could you keep them alive?"

With that out of the way, he glanced down at the atlas that Dakota had given them, and then back up at the others. "Alright, we're going."

• • • • •​

The atmosphere along the walk to to Patrick's house had been quiet and tense, and no one really wanted to talk, like some bomb would go off if they did. That was fine with Bryan because it was less to get on his nerves. Still, what had bothered him the most about the trek was that the streets of Bentley were . . . empty. There was pretty much no one around, not even anyone he had seen from the festival last night. Did it have something to do with the bloodbath?

Ahh, he had been pretty jealous of Zoey, and wished he could have taken her place as one of the participants. How could he miss out on such a grand opportunity! Ugh . . .

"I wonder where everyone is." he wondered aloud as he looked down at the map to pinpoint their location, and then took a path down a tree-enclosed road that was laid with cobblestone. Bentley was pretty picturesque when he thought about it. What kind of establishment was this place, anyway? He definitely figured that it had something do with with a cult of some sort, but what cult, and what pagan god did they pray to?

The group walked until they were going up a small hill, and then when they reached the other side, there was a house in view, slightly shrouded by the trees. When they broke the path of trees, the large, white house was fully visible, and surrounded by ridiculously green grass that was well kept. Under a small arch in between the staircases was a small fountain adorned with a cupid shooting an arrow. Bryan narrowed his eyes at it as he cautiously led the group up the stairs. This place mad him feel uncomfortable.

It kind of reminded him of an old plantation house, like one a person might see in Louisiana, or maybe even Florida. They walked up to the doors and Bryan gave a knock, glancing back at the others briefly. Julius nodded at him.

 

♔: ♠ « MUSIC ♠ « WEARING ♠ « ✉ 0 ♠ « OOC: N|A ♠ :♔
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Oliver managed to gather enough from the garbled bits of conversation in Zoey's room to make out that they were going to Patrick's house. It was choice this time. They wouldn't be lugged around anywhere, and he could stay if he wanted to. ... Oliver stared down at Pierce's bag for a long while as most of his peers shuffled out of the bedroom to get ready to leave.

He felt awful. Disoriented, guilty. Nobody knew what he did yet. Why would they? He had literally only ever interacted with Pierce and ... Sophie. Sophie was gone, too. Was she there last night? Why didn't he see her? Sophie shouldn't have been alone. ... He took a deep breath, but it felt like he still wasn't inhaling right. He didn't know what to do. He needed someone. Pierce was gone. His phone was ruined, so he couldn't even text Mary - not that he'd want to.

He wanted to go, but he would probably just hold them back. Pff, no, he would probably just leave them again if things got dangerous. Oliver was beginning to realize that he was that kind of person. The type of person to use people and abandon them during the tough times. He wasn't particularly intelligent, or as confident as he thought he was before all of this mess, and he had no idea what he wanted out of life. But he didn't see her die. Didn't hear her scream. He wanted to know if she was alright ...

His fingers shook and he clutched the bag closer. Nausea swept over him again. Trembling, he stood up and left back to his room, closing the door behind him. Quentin was in there laying in bed but he might as well not have been. Oliver wondered why someone like him would even come along.

Still ... assuming he hadn't gotten anyone killed, Quentin was better than he was.

Oliver crossed over to the bathroom and locked himself inside, slumping down against the door and leaving the light off.
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After a nice little walk, your group arrives at a beautiful estate hidden just slightly behind a veil of full, healthy trees. The house stands tall and luxurious, and seems to be the only one in the area. Bryan knocks on the door of Patrick's home. A few minutes go by with no response. Freddie decides to try the doorbell instead. You can hear the melodic chime echoing within the house. You step back and wait, and finally, someone who looks to be a servant opens the door. She has large, dark green eyes and long dark brown hair held together in a pink ribbon. ❝Hello.❞ She says plainly, taking each one of you in with a hesitant expression. She seems to stare at Bryan the longest. He speaks. ❝We're looking for Patrick. We'd like to talk to him?❞ The girl presses her lips together before nodding and opening the door fully for your group. As you step inside, she closes and locks the door behind you, asking you to remove your shoes and leading you to the living room. She asks you to take a seat and wait there. Once you're all sitting, she places out a bowl of candy, as well as some cups and two kettles filled with tea and coffee respectively. The girl leaves.

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ஐ ...Days go on forever, but I have not left your side...ஐ​

ʑoey Ⓐmber Ӄline​

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[OOC//Outfit-♣|Thoughts: Why...|Place: Inn at Bentely|Mood:Shaken up/Apprehensive|Music: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)|Day: 4/4]​

Zoey dragged all of Shane's, Estelle's, and her stuff to the room where Oliver and Quentin were staying at. She noticed Oliver wasn't around but she heard the bathroom door close when she walked in. She looked over to it, heard someone lean against the door and slid down it, but the lights didn't turn on. Maybe Oliver was in there. She didn't blame him for the state he was in.

She already took her medications, and thus her mind was numbing itself to what happened. It didn't help the fact that she was still paranoid though. She locked the door behind her and bolted it and then leaned against the cold surface, gently hitting the back of her head against the wooden thing. It felt pretty solid to her...

Her hands and knees were well treated and dressed, thanks to Travold. It didn't put her at ease that Freddie had her stay put here at the Inn, but she figured it was best. She wasn't in any condition to defend herself again. Not any time soon anyways. With a sigh, she pushed away from the door and sat on one of the beds that looked like it was still made. She then pulled her backpack close to her and unzipped it. She fished around for a moment before she found a hunting knife in one of the many compartments in her bag. Her dad gave it to her while they were on one of her hunting trips. It was well sharpened and ready to use. She felt so much better holding this than that pen. Zoey sat her backpack in front of her and then held the knife handle tightly in her hand. It was still sheave, but she was ready to pull it out when she had to. She then sat there, listening to the silence and kept very alert,​

 

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[ Because hyuge has to sit outside in the cold in order to get a wireless connection and has to work early in the morning, we're just going to saythat Erik and Maria missed out on all the fun at Patrick's to stay behind and keep an eye on everyone else. They then went to sleep much much later that night. And rider did squat so he doesn't count but went to bed after hours of nothing, being pretty much unaware that there was even something wrong. ]

 

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