Vikram Makes No Move To Interrupt Her Rambling About What She Lost. Instead, He Nods Now That He Understands

closed starter for maeve! @repentulant

DUSK  SETTLES  OVER  THE  TREES.  a  sight  that  vikram  once  found  comforting  now  feels  tainted,  weighted  with  an  ominous  note.  as  if  the  town  is  holding  it's  breath,  fearing  for  the  news  of  yet  another  tragedy  break  by  morning.   it  feels  like  only  yesterday  he  had  been  tasked  with  putting  alaina  price  back  together,  and  now?  kirby  sloane’s  body  lies  cold  in  the  fridge  of  his  home.  still.  silent.  a  far  cry  from  the  woman  he’d  spoken  to  on  halloween.  in  vikram’s  line  of  work,  it’s  often  that  he  is  reminded  of  how  short  life  can  be.  how  limited  everyone’s  time  on  earth  is  and  how  those  left  behind  are  almost  always  left  yearning  for  the  same  thing  .  .  .  to  be  allowed  more. 

fingers  tremble  as  he  presses  the  doorbell,  the  sound  echoing  through  the  quiet  of  the  evening.   “hi.”  he  breathes  out,  a  whisper  of  relief  escaping  him  the  moment  the she opens the door and their eyes meet.  she’s  still  here.  they  still  have  time.  “are  you  busy  tonight?  can  i  .  .  .  do  you  mind  if  i  come  in?”

"if it makes you feel better, i think that you'd be better at a fight than me," admittedly, tthat isn’t saying much when the biggest risk they face at the office is a paper cut. "hey, wait—" they bend down to snatch the bag of peas off the floor but before they can nag him to sit back down, he's disappeared from the room. kennedy scoffs, sinking back into the sofa in a grumble and taking this moment to close their eyes. with a sigh, the adrenaline of the night drains away, replaced by exhaustion. what a fucked up night. the sound of the laptop thudding onto thetable jolts them, followed by santiago plopping back down on the sofa "what, did you have to clean your browser history or something? you freak." they reach out for the laptop and charger, quickly connecting the device before they forget.

the way santiago wrinkles his nose at the mention of their boss bring them to chuckle. it's nice to know that they might not be the only one offended by ricardo's antics. "yeah, him. he's a prick. i suppose all rich pretty boys are." how the hell he ended up in red creek is beyond them. they offer a lazy shrug at santiago's resistance to coming to new york with them. "dunno. think it might be good for you to go to the city. see that there's more to life than this shitty town." they have their attention focused on booting the laptop up now. "mom is... yeah. i think she's happy. i think jon is too, actually. you should have seen how hard he hugged me when they picked me up from the airport. thought the man was gonna break my ribs." kennedy shoots santiago a quick glance. "trying to get rid of me, already?" they ask, scrunching their nose in jest before offering another shrug. "i don't know. mom and jon would kill me if i didn't at least stick around for the holidays. i'm hoping i won't be long after that. i'd hate to give them the impression that i was here to stay for good." they pause then, before adding. "they wanted me to check how you were doing. if... you were planning on attending any family dinners."

⁑ he nods almost mindlessly, opting to trust that his friends made it home safe rather than spiral into a panic. ❝ yeah. guess i wouldn't be much help if i nearly get knocked out tryin' to split a bar fight. ❞ santi pushes himself off of the armchair, make-shift ice bag tumbling to the floor. ❝ i'll grab it for you. ❞ it's a welcome distraction from the pulse in his temple. he pulls the laptop from it's place on a (mostly empty) bookshelf. there's a dull ache in his chest as he peers down at long - abandoned textbooks; santi had loved nursing at one point & the end was so sudden. he spins on his heel before he can stare too long. he laughs out loud when kennedy suggests he may have signed an nda to work at heartbreak motel. ❝ you haven't been gone that long, kens. doubt they even know what an nda is. maybe i'll toss you somethin' if it happens. ❞ he drops the laptop on his coffee table with a concerning thump, then falls back onto the couch equally as careless.

❝ your boss . . . ricardo, right ? ❞ santi asks, wrinkling his nose. narcissistic may be the nicest way to put it. kennedy probably put up with far worse in new york. which— ❝ like you would've wanted me buggin' you in the city. ❞ there's no bite to his words, but they fall flat. ❝ suzanne happy that you're home for a bit ? how long are you stayin' in town anyways ? ❞

RYAN DESTINY as ALEXANDRA CRANE in STAR (2016-2019)

“did something happen today?” they ask, never missing an opportunity to be nosy. kennedy isn't sure why they invited efiie out to dance. they never made much of a habit to hang out with another journalist back in new york. maybe they were growing soft. a realization they will no doubt nurse along with a headache tomorrow morning at the rate they are going. that’s a problem for later though. right now? everything is good. the music is good, the ambiance is good, kennedy is feeling good, effie is looking good. it’s all good! effie’s observation earns chuckle from kennedy. “i can’t get anything past you, can i? okay — i might have a bit of a head start on you.” they admit, looking down at their hands for a moment before flashing her a rare, mischievous grin. “so let’s get you caught up! what’s your poison?” 

" you know what ... after the evening i've had ? why not. " she matches the volume over the music, smoothing down the front of her daphne dress. a small tear, poorly put together with a safety-pin at her side, proving to be the source of her frustration. the spin takes her off guard, makes her sputter off something close to a laugh. a squeeze is given to the fingers interlacing hers, but a brow promptly arches upward. " have you already started drinking, kennedy? "

the silence between is heavy and the house seems to settle within it, wind whistling through the room as if to cut the tension. a shiver runs through them once more, the chill more physical than mental this time. kennedy is hyper-aware of their surroundings. of the dust particles floating in the air, the stray moonlight peeking into the room from poorly boarded-up windows, and kieran talbot. standing as the centerpiece.  illuminated by a warm light, lips parted slightly, a small twitch in his brow, dark eyes trained on them with a reflected caution. he almost looks like a painting. like something they would see in some museum, drawn by an unknown tragic artist, toeing the line between beautiful and unsettling. so kennedy does flinch when kieran moves closer, all instinct, eyes narrowing into daggers— a silent warning.

the mention of their book is unexpected and the wary glare softens into something kennedy can’t quite place, somewhere between amusement and surprise. they were sure that their parents did their best to spread the word about kennedy's achievement around town but they didn’t actually expect anyone care enough to pick up their book. they haven't spoken to anyone about it, not even santiago. so under kieran's mention of it, they suddenly find themselves thinking back on their time in italy.

a small church yet beautifully ornate with stained glass windows depicting idolized saints and dutiful angels. their eyes meeting his— the priest in their story. father caruso. the last murderer they were in a room with as far as they know .  the man who had the whole town wrapped around his finger. kennedy remembers looking around the cathedral, catching glimpses of the people in the pews looking up at him with teary reverence, clinging to his every word.

kieran’s voice pulls them back to the present, directing their attention to the battered bed nearby. sybil thorne’s bed. kennedy’s flashlight follows instinctively, skimming over the surface before snapping back to kieran, unwilling to lose sight of him. they feel disoriented, trapped between two worlds—the cathedral in their memory and the decaying thorne house.

kieran’s words settle in the room like the dust swirling in the faint light. more lamb than butcher. the phrase plays over in their mind, the weight of it heavier than they expect. "yeah?" they finally speak up, canting their head slightly, a slow-growing smile making its way to their features. "so what's a sweet little lamb like you doing out here then? hoping to find a purpose to bleed yourself into?" kennedy wasn’t fully convinced, they would be foolish to be, but they’ve never been the type to look to god or the universe for guidance. their gut was their bible and right now, it’s telling them that the kid who spent years buried in old articles and cold cases might be better used as an asset than dismissed as a suspect. they lower their flashlight some, and perhaps their guard as well. for now at least. "'cus i might just be on the same boat as you. " there's another pause then, only this time it doesn't feel so daunting. "do you think this place is actually haunted?" a sudden ask. they just can't help but shake the feeling that they were being watched. was it paranoia? god?

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ the questions hung heavy in the air for a few moments, met with kieran's silence as the thorne house creaked and groaned with every cold autumn breeze, almost as if the very walls were an audience reacting to this confrontation. he held his stance even against the blinding light of kennedy's flashlight, expression caught somewhere between surprise and something more akin to indignance against the returned accusation. it should be expected ﹕ he probably checked off multiple boxes in some litmus test for serial killers, but allegations felt like smoke sometimes ⸻ it could be suffocating if left unchallenged. he let the silence stretch out between them just for a few more beats, the weight of it pressing down on him like the dust that covered this old rotten place, before finally taking a small step forward. just to see if it would rattle them, just to see if they would flinch, just to see how much kennedy actually believed him to be red creek's newest murderer. then, a smile as he shook his head. “ i read your book, y'know ? great work you did there. but people look at it like it was an exposé on that priest, the oh so terrible things he did to maintain people's faith ... but the way i see it, it's more a revelation of the lies people tell themselves. ” kieran shrugged nonchalantly, casting his light on the bedside table, where sibyl thorne's weathered bible remained after all these years. and he wondered if she believed god would save her son from the misplaced wrath of this town. “ they need something to believe in, something bigger than their own insignificance. faith healing, prayers to some god, a big dose of hope and dopamine from the bible— because to live in a world without that, without the illusion of purpose, of salvation, would be too much. it's easier to believe in that whole weird apocalyptic scifi literature than accept we're just specks of dust drifting in a universe that doesn't really give a damn. ” and finally another step forward, hands raised in feigned surrender. he didn't always say much, sometimes not even enough, but kieran felt an affinity for kennedy ﹕ both of them only trying to make sense of what was happening in their town. “ guess what i'm tryin' to say is, i may not look like it, but i give too much of a damn to be an indifferent killer like this goddamn universe. i'm really just like all those people, ken. more a lamb than a butcher. ” a mess of belief, fighting too hard for meaning to ever be an empty murderer.

location : redstone bar

time : evening

for: nadia(@hypnotiscd)

"you know, i was actually watching love is blind with june the other day." he has his designated spot on the couch of her apartment— the side with the missing leg, where he remains still as a rock until it's time for him to leave out of fear of it buckling under his movement. "she thinks it's a load of bull but... i don't know. there's something kind of sweet about it." did the experiment have it's flaws? sure. did he become embarrassingly invested in everyone's journey? of course. he glances over at nadia, an easy smile present as he speaks. with how heavy redcreek was feeling recently, the levity gained from grabbing a drink with her and talking mindlessly about something so silly was relieving. "maybe i should apply." it's only a half-joke, emphasized by the sheepish laugh that escapes him. he brings the bottle of beer to his lips for a swig before offering a shrug, "i don't know. beats whatever i've been doing." which has been sitting pretty at the funeral home, waiting for love to knock at his doorstep like some sort of hallmark movie.

BOBBY BRIGGS TWIN PEAKS | 1.04

body or not, it had been vikram's plan to finish the night at redstone all along. it suited him better, always preferred the grittiness of a live band over polished beats blaring through speakers. the place was crowded though, much more than usual. how annoying. vikram is ready to call it a night... but then the offer of free liquor is made, which naturally brings his plan to a halt. he turns to quinn, gaze alternating between the glass and the woman presenting it. "what is it?" he finally asks.

˚｡⋆୨୧ starter : open ! ˚｡⋆୨୧  where : inside redstone bar ˚｡⋆୨୧  time : 12am

the  hospital  had  been  draining  all  of  quinn's  energy  .  between  stomach  flus  ,  anxiety  over  the  murders  ,  &  car  crashes  -  it  had  been  a  whirlwind  of  patients  coming  and  going  .  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  ,  quinn  got  a  night  off  and  figured  now  was  her  chance  to  let  loose  .  her  eyes  widened  once  she  realized  the  bar  tender  had  given  her  an  extra  shot  of  tequila  .  there  was  no  way  the  dirty  blonde  was  gonna  take  two  ,  so  she  took  the  friendly  avenue  and  turned  to  the  person  beside  her  .  “  hi  ,  wanna  take  this  shot  with  me  ?  it's  free  .  ”  she  smiled  ,  hoping  the  tequila  would  find  a  rightful  owner  .