[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qR2HI1P.jpeg[/img] [sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=2e2c2c]............[/color] [color=#94260e][b]#94260e[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/0f/ec/6b/0fec6b32e133154ffdd422f687d89e6f.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]rafael's place-> pine ridge sheriff's station[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]..............[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center] [indent][indent][indent][color=808080]Heritage Antiques sat closed and dark behind him by the time Rafael reached Main Street properly, the festival's noise rising to meet him before he'd gone more than a few steps. He had expected this in the abstract, as one expects the weather to be forecast days in advance. The actual experience of it, however, was quite…different. Sound usually arrived first, layered and indiscriminate, this time involving a dozen separate conversations bleeding into each other. A hammer striking wood somewhere to his left, and a child shrieking with what he hoped was delight rather than distress. Beneath that, the bass thrum of a generator powering something he couldn't see, and the distant, tinny music from the speaker that had been crackling all morning, now playing something with a banjo in it that sounded older than it probably was. Then came smell. Smell always arrived second. There was fried dough, heavy with the oiliness of cheap cooking fat, and hay from somewhere, a decorative bale probably dragged in from one of the outlying farms to lend the whole affair an air of rustic authenticity that Pine Ridge had never actually possessed to him. There was also candle wax from a vendor's stall, though no candles were lit yet that he could see; the scent seemed residual and baked into whatever display they were setting up. And beneath all of it, most important of all, were coffee and cinnamon, two smells Rafael didn't mind as much, his attention tuning into them like a radio finding a frequency its listener liked. The coffee was fresh, roasted recently, the kind of dark roast that suggested someone in this town actually cared about what they were selling. He made a mental note of the direction it came from for later. Then, of course, there were the sights. Main Street had transformed into something he barely recognized despite having watched it change, slowly and then all at once, for over a century. Banners snapped overhead in colours far too bright for the gray morning and garlands of fabric leaves wound around lampposts that, in his memory, had once been simply lampposts. Shame. He kept on walking. Near a truck decorated within an inch of its structural integrity, a young woman with dark hair stood with one hand braced against her hip. Her expression fell somewhere between exasperation and resignation. Still, the two younger men before her were doing an admirable job of looking elsewhere: one studying the sky as though it might offer answers, while the other examined his own shoes with intense fascination. [color=fcb04d]"...if he shows his face again before noon, I swear to God I’m gonna—"[/color] Rafael didn't catch the rest and didn't particularly try to. Whatever had caused her irritation seemed minor enough either way that he suspected it would resolve itself shortly without requiring his attention. Hopefully. He continued toward the far end of Main Street, where the festival noise thinned slightly as though the street itself understood that certain establishments preferred to be left in peace. The Pine Ridge Sheriff's Station sat beside the Municipal Building, squat and brick, its construction dating to a period when function had clearly been prioritized over form. The door chimed softly when he pushed it open, and inside, the station smelled of old coffee and paper. And dust. Lots of dust that tended to accumulate in buildings where nothing much happened most days. Well, nothing much except for the disappearances. Rafael avoided looking at the board he knew was there, and his eyes instead landed on the person behind the front desk. The officer there was older—late fifties or early sixties. Rafael was always slightly off with human age—and he recognized him by sight. William Gibbons. The name had taken a moment to retrieve, but it was there now, slotted into place in the vast mental catalogue of faces Rafael had accumulated across the decades. Gibbons had been in Pine Ridge for as long as Rafael could remember, which in practical terms meant as long as Rafael had bothered to pay attention. He had watched the man's hair go from brown to gray, and the lines around his eyes deepen into wrinkles. The old man looked up from whatever paperwork had been holding his attention, offering a nod as Rafael approached. [color=d6d6d6]"Mr. Fontenelle."[/color] He set his pen down. [color=94260e]"Gibbons,"[/color] Rafael replied. [color=94260e]"I need to file something for extended hours. This weekend only and in case anyone wanders in looking for souvenirs after the fact."[/color] A tourist with a handful of hours in a small town was a creature of impulse, and impulse, properly directed, could be very good for business. Rafael had learned that much across the years. [color=d6d6d6]"Sure thing."[/color] Gibbons reached beneath the counter without needing to look, producing a form that he slid across the desk along with a pen. [color=d6d6d6]"Dates and hours there. I'll get Sheriff Sarkar to sign off once he has a moment."[/color] [color=94260e]"Appreciated,"[/color] Rafael said, and took the pen. The form required very little of him. Business name. Hours requested. Dates. He filled each line, the motion automatic enough that it left the rest of his attention free to go where it wanted. And yet still he did not look at the board. [color=d6d6d6]"Busy morning,"[/color] Gibbons offered then, leaning back in his chair with the creak of old springs. [color=d6d6d6]"Half the town's out there setting up. Other half's already asking questions about the mine tours."[/color] He shook his head with mild resignation. [color=d6d6d6]"Funny thing to make a tourist attraction out of that place, if you ask me."[/color] [color=94260e]"Mmm,"[/color] Rafael said, which was not agreement exactly and not disagreement either. He turned the form over and filled in the remaining lines on the back. [color=d6d6d6]"Suppose it's good for business though,"[/color] Gibbons added. [color=d6d6d6]"Sure does bring people in, and Lord knows this town could use it."[/color] Rafael set the pen down and slid the form back across the desk without comment. Could Pine Ridge use it? Perhaps. He had heard variations of that sentiment across several decades now, each time applied to whatever idea the town had latched onto in its perpetual search for salvation. In the nineties, it had been the restoration of a few of the old storefronts, a project that had brought in grant money and out-of-town contractors and, for a brief, shining moment, the sense that Pine Ridge was finally turning a corner. In the early two-thousands, it had been the ski trail on the mountain's eastern slope, a venture that had collapsed when the first winter proved too mild for snow and too harsh for the investors who had banked on it. And then, most notably, before all those things in 1987 when the mountain had swallowed half the town whole and the town had decided to endure rather than reinvent itself. That, perhaps, had been its most pathetic decision of all. To survive, but not to change. To persist, but not to grow. But it wasn't Gibbons's style to look at it that way, Rafael figured. The man was a pragmatist, a creature of paperwork and procedure. [color=d6d6d6]"Lots of history in those mines,"[/color] he continued, pulling the form toward him. [color=d6d6d6]"Suppose people are just curious about that sort of thing. You know how it is."[/color] [color=94260e]"Yes,"[/color] Rafael said, a bit of weariness in his voice. [color=94260e]"I suppose they are."[/color] He turned toward the door. And then, as though the decision had already been made somewhere below conscious thought, he stopped. Because the board was to his left, and, for some reason, he couldn't look away. [color=d6d6d6]"Yeah,"[/color] Gibbons said, apparently taking notice of his gaze. The older man had risen from his chair, moving with the slow deliberation of someone whose joints had begun to protest the passage of time, and now stood beside Rafael, following his line of sight to the board.[color=d6d6d6]"That board's been up there longer than I've been working this desk. You'd think a town this small wouldn't have so many dang–"[/color] He stopped himself, shook his head, a rueful twist to his mouth. [color=d6d6d6]"Well. Some of them go back a good long way. Before my time, even. Before anyone's time who's still around to remember."[/color] He could feel all of it, every detail, every small sensory input, and yet he was somewhere else entirely. A different century entirely. [color=94260e]"[sub]Six years old…[/sub]"[/color] Rafael said, very quietly. He was not speaking to Gibbons. He was not speaking to anyone. Not anyone here. [color=94260e]"[sub]Light brown skin…dark eyes. Scar above the left eyebrow.[/sub]"[/color] A pause. [color=94260e]"[sub]Last seen close to home…a long time ago.[/sub]"[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"Hm? Sorry, didn't quite catch that,"[/color] Gibbons said, touching the side of his head with an apologetic expression.[color=d6d6d6]"These old ears of mine."[/color] The silence that followed lasted approximately three seconds. [color=94260e]"It's nothing."[/color][/color][/indent][/indent][/indent] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] gibbons (npc) [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] harper, dev [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/aguTDlq.jpeg[/img] [sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=2e2c2c]............[/color] [color=fcb04d][b]#fcb04d[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://cdn.sewmamasew.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Cargo-Pants-with-Cropped-Baby-Tee-and-Flannel-Overshirt.jpg?width=720&quality=75][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]main street[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]..............[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center] [indent][indent][indent][color=808080]The bags were done. Harper stepped back and assessed her work with the critical eye of someone who had, at some point in the last forty minutes, become entirely too invested in the aesthetic integrity of a Halloween display. The tallest bags stood at the back like a neat orange wall, shortest at the front so even the tiniest goblins could reach without assistance. Colours were loosely grouped, and the Boone Garage logo faced outward on every single one, because if she was going to do something, she was going to do it properly. And it looked good. In fact, it looked, if she was being objective about it, fucking excellent. She became aware, at approximately the same moment, that she was also fucking [i]starving[/i]. Not hungry. Starving. The specific variety of emptiness that arrived when you'd been up since early, argued with your employer about stupid pumpkins, walked the length of Main Street in the cold, and then spent the better part of an hour sorting candy by weight and colour without eating any of it. Which, now that Harper thought about it, seemed like a significant oversight on her part and the kind of oversight that honestly made her question her basic survival instincts. Even if it [i]was[/i] just candy. Her eyes drifted to the nearest bag. Then to the Tootsie Rolls she'd tucked into the front pocket of it for easy access. She glanced around. Nobody was watching. Warren had disappeared by now, and Caleb and Mason were still pretending to be busy somewhere behind her, she was sure. So, she moved without really giving it much thought. [color=fcb04d]"I'll replace it,"[/color] she said quietly to herself, her fingers finding the waxy paper within. She pulled one out, the wrapper crinkling as she peeled it open and took the first bite. It was… It was perfect. She was unwrapping her second one — the vanilla, which was objectively the best flavour and she would die on that hill — when Caleb appeared at her elbow. [color=d6d6d6]"Busted,"[/color] he said, although Harper didn’t even flinch. Instead, she finished chewing, swallowed, and turned to face him with a mild expression of inquiry. [color=fcb04d]"Busted doing what?"[/color] Caleb smiled. [color=d6d6d6]"Stealing candy from the goodie bags."[/color] [color=fcb04d]"Actually no, this is…quality testing. Yeah, quality testing. Can’t exactly hand out bags to kids without making sure it’s at the standard, you know."[/color] She paused. [color=fcb04d]"This one meets the standard, by the way. In case you were wondering."[/color] Caleb huffed something that might have been a laugh before he leaned against the side of the truck, crossing his arms. Harper noticed that the tension from earlier had eased somewhat on his shoulders. That was good. She’d definitely take that as a win. [color=d6d6d6]"The display looks good,"[/color] he said, nodding toward the truck bed. [color=d6d6d6]"Warren’s going to be happy."[/color] [color=fcb04d]"Warren better be happy. I didn't spend forty minutes arranging lollipops by colour for him to be anything less than ecstatic."[/color]She popped the rest of the Tootsie Roll into her mouth and spoke around it. [color=fcb04d]"Did he tell you to check on me or something before he left?"[/color] Caleb shook his head. [color=d6d6d6]"Nah. It’s just that, umm… well…"[/color] He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that was so Caleb-like in its awkwardness. [color=d6d6d6]"Did you mean any of that stuff? About Jesse?"[/color] Ahh. There it was. His true purpose here. [color=fcb04d]"Honestly?"[/color] Harper said.[color=fcb04d]"Probably not. That's more the moon talking than anything else."[/color] Three days out and her patience was running about thirty percent shorter than usual, which was just a fact of life she had learned to account for. [color=fcb04d]"Jesse's not worth the calories."[/color] Caleb looked mildly relieved, and the tension in his shoulders eased another notch. [color=fcb04d]"What I [i]am[/i] serious about,"[/color] she added, [color=fcb04d]"is the fact that I have not eaten an actual meal today and I am currently stealing candy from literal babies. So if anyone needs me, I think I'll be finding actual food before I make any decisions I'll regret. Although…"[/color] There was no way the diner wouldn’t be packed with people. Her stomach growled in protest at the very thought of dealing with that. As if reading her mind, Caleb waved his hands around vaguely. [color=d6d6d6]"There might be a few food stalls set up already. Might be able to get something small?"[/color] [color=fcb04d]"Now that,"[/color] Harper said, pointing at him, [color=fcb04d]"is a good idea, my young Padawan."[/color] Caleb made a face. [color=fcb04d]"What? You’ve been talking about it for the past two weeks, come on now."[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"Considering it. I've been [i]considering[/i] it."[/color] [color=fcb04d]"Sure."[/color] Harper's grin was wide and unrepentant. She turned, already walking backward toward the food stalls, her voice carrying over. [color=fcb04d]"May the force be with you."[/color] As for her own costume? Well, time would tell.[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] caleb (npc) [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] warren [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]