2019-12-21 - Blood and Ice

They're not children. They don't wake up first thing in the morning and go out to play in the snow in their respective yards. Goodness no, these four people are adults. They have things to do during the day, work, calls, errands, so on. But that said, Isabella knows after a selfie of both her and Byron bundled up that Lilith wants to go stream skating and she knows the rough approximation of where her and Byron are headed during the afternoon to stay away from the pond and all the kids sledding around town. They know a place in the woods where they used to play as kids that was absolutely prime during freezes and before things get too rough, it's worth a good time, isn't it?

It's perhaps not the most judicious decision they've ever made, as the snow cover is getting thicker than they're actually accustomed to and news accumulation reports tend to just be numbers until you see the extent. In fact, wherever they've parked their respective vehicles for the time being to make the hike into the snowy woods for the stream, well, it might cause some problems when they get back to those vehicles. And without the sun, it's going to appear to get dark in the forest earlier than they might expect, too. But for now...

It's a winter wonderland to enjoy and the stream running through the forest is frozen with collected snow on the banks of the muted glossy surface. Lilith knows better than to just skate right onto the surface, so she leans to start making a snowball and naturally sends Byron to test for solidity, "... you think it's safe? It's probably only four feet deep anyway, but that doesn't mean I want to fall in and get swept under... or be wet and freeze." She keeps packing the snowball and shifts her weight on her snowboots between hips.

While they may be out here on a snow day, Byron still has business to attend to. They day isn't over yet. So even as they are out here in the woods for some fun in the snow time, Thorne's out here on a business call with his phone to his ear. No, he's not dressed for the office. In fact, he's sporting many layers beneath a heavy winter coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck. A gray beanie protects his head and ears from the chilly frost while his hands are covered in thick gloves. Heavy boots somewhat help to make the trek through the snow slightly less treacherous.

"That's right." He says to the investor on the other line. It's not Hughes, who he was speaking to last time, but someone new. Perhaps someone with little interest in cat photos. He keeps up with Lilith as she leads the way, though he pretty much knows where they are headed to, though he hasn't been here since high school, at the latest. "Believe it or not, the whole place is covered in snow. I'd say that you should drop by. Get your Misery on." Another investor who is also an amateur writer... "But I dunno how long this is going to last."

Now Lilith is talking to him and he's searching for a big sturdy stick to use. "Tell you what, Dan, I'll call you back later. Going to try my hand at ice skating." The edge of his lips quirk, "Don't laugh. If you don't hear from me later tonight, just assume I fell through the ice." They both have a bit of a chuckle, "Alright. Bye."

By that time, he's found himself a decently sized stick just as he pockets his phone. With the pair of them now staring out across the creek, he shakes his head, "Can't say really, but may as well check it out." Obviously, he'll brave the snow and ice and venture forth, using the study stick to tap against the ice ahead of him, before even stepping forward. "Yeah, stay back there where it's safe. I'll give the place an inspection."

By the time she gets the text, the sun has set - a glowing, burning ruby eye hovering above the demarcation line between sky and sea, slathering its bloody wake across fields of pure white. Somewhere in 13 Elm, doing her best to ignore the taunting box sitting with her name on it underneath Alexander's small, glittering plastic Christmas tree, Isabella Reede petulantly squints at her laptop and slowly, slowly, presses a key.

"...the final period," she whispers, her heart lurching in her throat. "I'm...."

The shout that winds out of her is unfettered in its joy, waking Blue Bell and startling Luigi as she leaps to her feet, delirious and giddy as the rush of that single epiphany shoots through her veins, a volatile cocktail of biochemicals released from the brain and hitting every nerve and cell of her. Alexander can't be blamed, really, if he thinks something happened, but by the time he comes across his young and frenetic lover, he'd only find her dancing like an idiot in the middle of his living room, before he's swiftly inundated by all of her, reaching out to grasp him by the shoulders, her fingers trembling because some part of her can't believe it. "I'm free. FREEDOM, darling. I'm free!" And she laughs. It's wild, and almost hysterical, but her entire self is poured into it, burning like a small sun in the heart of his house. Only one thing can possibly cause this.

And what happens when a child is done with her homework in the winter? Especially one that she thinks would never end?

She goes out to play, and luckily, Lilith and Byron are here to provide.

By the time the other pair arrives, parking her Jeep close to where she can glimpse the newly-repaired Wraith, Isabella has changed from her comfortable housewear to something more fitting the occasion; black thermal leggings and a warm, loose sweater with a winter jacket thrown over it. A baggy knit cap is situated on her head, her scarf draped over her shoulders. There are gloves, of course, and the moment she hits the winter air, the cold has flushed her cheeks, and she is absolutely brimming with happiness and no small measure of relief when she finds her skates and slings it over her shoulder - they've had to stop by the Reede home to get her pair.

Snow boots skid on freshly-fallen white fluff. It's over the crest of a hill that they finally spy the familiar forms of Lilith and Byron by the creek, the latter armed with a stick. "Hey, lovebirds!" she calls out with a wave.

Alexander is dressed for the weather, although this meant going way back through his closet, so he's even more mismatched than usual. A bright pink knit cap is pulled down around his ears - it has Easter eggs on it in white and yellow. A scarf in deep purple is wrapped around his throat, on top of the old green military jacket. Under the jacket is a dark blue sweater with an embroidered pirate ship in black and white, and his thermal pants are gray. Finally, the boots and gloves are black. He does have skates - they're tied together and slung over one shoulder, and although they're so old the leather has started to crack, they're also in good shape, and he's clearly kept them in good repair.

He trudges around behind Isabella, although close enough that he can reach out a steadying hand when she skids. "I didn't even realize this was out here," he tells her quietly as they crest that hill, then lifts his free hand to wave to Byron and Isabella. Noting Byron tapping the ice, he calls out, "You think it's hard enough? It got cold very quick, but how's it look?"

Byron isn't the only one armed. All the while as he's finished up with the call and found that stick to start testing the ice, Lilith has shouldered off her travel backpack with little necessities and a pair of vintage ice skates from the shop if she gets inclined to go full throttle (assuming the ice is sturdy enough). Honestly, though, she's not that great on ice skates and intends to use her boots to just skid around because it's cold! But here comes Isabella with a pair of skates, which obviously sets the bar for her to get her own out. Especially with Byron getting content enough about the freeze of the stream.

But... she has to free her hand from that snowball, so when Isabella chimes out the greeting call, it launches through the air with slung, laughing toss of hello! Alexander nearby is totally in hazard range if her unexpected throw goes rogue, but it mostly aims her target. Which... was Byron until this pair showed up, no doubt, given the way she was eyeing his back when they arrived and she made the turn to throw.

"Isn't this beautiful? We loved being heathens out here during a freeze, I'm sure Byron is the only reason I didn't fall in and drown." The brunette leaves herself a little open to look at Byron testing the ice while dusting snow from her gloves, memories and affection apparent.

Out on the ice but still close to firm, snowy ground, Byron is meticulously making his way across the creek, first testing the solidness of the ice with the stick, before tapping with one booted before. Even as he does this, attentive eyes scan the vast icy landscape around him, looking for any signs of movement, say.. but fish under ice. That may or may not hint that the ice is solid in that direction or not, but it's something to make note of.

His own bag and skates are still sitting where its safe on the bank where Lilith is. Isabella and Alexander's appearance are a rather dangerous distraction, since he's testing the ground, but he'll lift a free hand in their direction affording them a smile, "Bella. Clayton. So nice of you to join." Hearing Alexander's little inquiry, Byron continues to move a few steps forward once the ground he'd just tested proved solid enough, "You'd think that it might not be. But so far, it looks pretty frozen. Then again," He says, looking at the snow covered treeline in this almost ghostly white canvas around them, "Blizzards like this, they don't happen often."

Watching the snowball play from out of the corner of his eyes lifts his spirits as well , but he proceeds further, taking care as to not slip on the ice. "The main reason why you've never fallen through is because if you did, I'd be freezing and soaked, needing to drag you out of there."

"Lil said this was a place where they used to play as kids," Isabella tells Alexander. "There are a few uncharted areas still, though August would probably know better than any of us." She takes a more careful step down the slope, digging her heel in an attempt to keep herself stable. When she finds her footing, that's the only time she attempts another step, and another, until she reaches the bottom of the hill where the other two are.

Rogue snowball incoming! She grins when that ball of white careens in the air in an effort to home into its intended target. She drops her skates on the snow, though, not lacing them up just yet. Eyes follow Byron's wake carefully as he crosses over the creek.

"It doesn't," she says at last, of the blizzard, turning her eyes up, snowflakes catching on her lashes when she diverts her attention from her companions and to the sky. "Honestly even when I was living here, I don't remember snowfall this heavy."

Alexander ducks away from the flung snowball, grinning as the snow sails towards Isabella. He doesn't try to save her from the poofy white doom, thus failing Chivalry 101. A nod to her. "Ah, I see." Looking back to Lilith and Byron, his smile faint but warm. "You two must have been all over these woods to have found a place like this. The creek seems nice, though." He skids on down to the edge of the stream. "And no, they don't," he adds, with a nod towards Byron, "but it's nice to know that we're definitely gonna have a white Christmas, for once. Instead of the usual 'freezing rain' one." He grins, then moves to find a snow-covered log and sit down to start putting on his skates. "How are the holidays going for the two of you, so far?"

"You know... if we clear off the snow from the places where it needs a little dusting and packing, we can run a straight shot from here to here..." Lilith is looking at the ice and pointing with planning for entertainment now that they have a gang here for fun, all of them with skates, besides, other hand on her hip. Then she stops to stare at the ice mid-sentence with a few quick blinks, like something has made her lose her train of thought.

Eventually, though, she finishes that sentiment with a pull of breath, because honestly, the things they go through, this is just paranoia. The woods, though they're starting to get shadowy, they're so deceptively still and gorgeous with snow and ice right now, the white of it all brightening the surroundings to make time more of an afterthought. Perhaps it was a fish? A big fish...

After Lilith is finished staring and recovers, she says, "Race. We can race from there to there with speed skating."

After testing out a sizeable portion of ice, following the course of the creek, Byron ventures from one bank to the other, just checking to see how safe the entire width of his proposed race course would be. Slow and steadily, he treads on heavy boots across the ice, the sound of that stick tapping on the ground alerts them to his location at all times. "No matter what people in places that snow all winter say, I think it's exceptional luck to be able to have a white Christmas. Some of my writer clients would probably be more interested in setting up out here for a nice, small town solitary winter if ours was a regular Winter Wonderland. Helps with the writing some times." He'd have more tenants if that were the case!

"We went exploring a lot through these woods," He tells Alexander, the only one here who didn't grow up with the lot of them. "It was scary, sure, but it was a great place for hide and seek and all sorts of other games." The Adventurer's Guild didn't usually play out here, the way you think Adventurers would. They were indoor Adventurers... thanks to Kevin and James.

Then something catches his attention somewhere along the other snowy bank. Was that... blood? A lot of it too. There's this brief moment where it felt like his heart was about to leap up and out of his chest and his footing nearly slips on the slippery surface if not for the sturdy stick keeping him upright as it's jammed against the solid sheet of ice below. The blood stains were leading somewhere... After the initial start, however, as he refocuses his gaze to the spot of snow that he was just staring at, whatever was there was gone. A trick of his imagination.

Drawing himself up more steadily, though he's still using the stick for support, he doesn't immediately take his eyes away from that spot of snow. In fact, his gaze follows the direction where he thought he saw the signs of someone or something being bloodily dragged away. Though when he speaks, calls out the others, it's in a normal and calm-ish tone, "Looks like the ice will be good for a race. Seems sturdy all around anyway." He gives that opposite bank one last look, before returning to join the others, carefully crossing the ice once more.

"It's-- " PAHF. The snowball hits her right in the cheek when both men duck and she's left with snow and ice on one side of her face. For a moment, Isabella does nothing, says nothing, frozen in place as green-gold eyes fix right at the very front, absolutely stunned.

But her recovery times are swift and lashes lid dangerously over her eyes, her smile tilting s l o o o o o w l y up the corners. "....oh. Ohhhhh. So that's how it's going to be." She rolls her shoulders back and even starts to remove her gloves, blowing in an exaggerated fashion against her fingertips and shaking them out. "It's been a while since I've done this, but when you call down the thunder..." Snow starts to shift; after all, it's just solidified water, and her control is always best when it comes to that particular element. Small clumps of icy down start to rise from the ground...

Before she can actually indulge in the mischievous use of her rarely-used abilities, the eviscerated vision flashes across her eyes and whips through her senses like a whipcrack, and while she doesn't scream in startlement, she makes a sound, staring off into the trees and snow dropping before she can fling them at her friends. She says nothing for a while, nevermind the change in the color of her complexion, before she reaches up and scrubs off the snow on her face, attempting to ignore the hitch of her heartbeat against her ribs.

Nope, she decides, determinedly trudging forward so she could drop on a log and start working the zipper of her boots. Nope. "Not today, Satan," she mutters under her breath. This town.

"Firefly season's the best," she says in a very gamely attempt to push aside what she had seen, and swallow down the brewing nausea at the pit of her stomach. "Over the summer and the fall - they're easy to chase in the dark, like faerie lights. I never really found the forest all that frightening when we were young, either." And even if she did, she would never admit it. "It had more good memories than bad, even though I know there are a lot of ridiculous things that happen around and within it."

While Alexander's head is down, and he misses Lilith and Byron's momentary startlement at the things that they may have seen. These skates won't tie themselves, after all. But Isabella's noise? That draws his head up like a hunting dog hearing the distant horn, and he's already frowning as he looks in her direction. The change from rosy, happy cheeks to whatever she's currently sporting is definitely not missed, and he says, "Isabella?" as she drops onto the log. "Is something wrong?"

Now he looks around to the other two, as if making sure that they're still here. And still real. He does say, "I came out into the woods a bit as a kid. It was quiet out here, so that was nice. Also, I found three badly-buried bodies over about a decade." Because a) It's Alexander, and b) It's Gray Harbor.

Lilith looks damn pleased with Byron picking up what she's throwing down as far as ice skating races are concerned, and it bolsters her some after the nerves unwittingly creep up after that shadow under the ice. Then Isabella starts playing at the snow to move it (maybe fling it) and automatically, she drops her ass into a sit in the thick snow at the creek bank to reach and pull her bag nearby to get at her skates with one hand, the other arm shielding her head with reflex. Lilith is quite aware she threw that snowball as a greeting and is expecting payback at any time, clearly, not quite catching onto the fact that something might be amiss over Isabella's way to make the snow fall.

She thinks she hears something. She knows she hears something. Like someone drowning...

Once she's down, the defensive arm she puts up drops to help her shove to a stand with pull on Byron, whether he's still on the ice or at the edge of it, because suddenly she's terrified of the ice, which is outwardly inexplicable. But something sent her flying to stand before she could even unlace to get her skates on properly.

"... please don't get back on the ice." Lilith then turns her eyes onto the other two while pleading with Byron abruptly with unexplained worry probably, yanking on him about the time he's hearing his own oddity, repeating the plea at them, "Don't get on the ice yet."

The thing is, the ice looks and still seems fine other than that interlude. Everything seems okay. It's not like when they get yanked into awful strange or dreams. Everything around them seems normal. But they might be registering from reactions that something is amiss now, even if they aren't sure in what capacity that 'amiss' is happening.

Byron is still on the ice, though he's near the bank where everyone else. His mind goes back to the blood he'd seen, a bright red bloom against the pristine snow. Though the bloodied trail that he imagined seeing looked far less than beautiful. He does his best to dismiss the image from his mind, but it's difficult. No, it was probably nothing. This blizzard, very much like the fog, painted the town in a ghostly canvas, so his mind really was just playing a trick on him.

Then something makes him take pause, stopping him in his tracks before he turns in the direction that Isabella had turned to earlier, though it's something he, himself, had missed. The sound itself made his blood run cold, catching his breath in his lungs. That was loud and anguished and he's pretty sure everyone else heard it as well. Which is why he doesn't ask 'Did you hear that?' and instead, starts off in that direction, letting the others know what should be obvious, "It's coming from there."

There's a smile, however faint, at Alexander's direction. "Oh, just..." Isabella groans softly. "Gray Harbor being Gray Harbor, as per usual." She reaches out to brush flakes of snow gently from his jacket, though it's a futile effort at best - snow is still falling. But she attempts to flash him a reassuring smile and one that tempers a little at the mention of finding badly buried bodies. After a heartbeat, there is a slow and surreptitious glance sideways towards where she found the grinning woman crucified between the trees.

The tap in the ice close to them jerks her attention back to it. "...Alexander, maybe your shoes...?" She slowly lowers her skate, because she's not going to put it on now and it might be a good idea to keep their footwear as it is. She's slowly standing up, her hand reaching around herself to grab onto the butt of the pistol at the small of her back, though she doesn't draw it out yet.

She's about to call for Byron, also, but Lilith has that covered, and when her childhood friend tells her that it's coming from over where she saw that, she takes several steps backward. "She was killed over there, the thing I saw," she tells them, her jaw tensing on the hinges, a restless thrum of the life-giving vein on the side of her neck standing out from the thin sliver of skin peeking out from over her scarf. "But her eyes were open, and she was smiling." Another wave of nausea bubbles from her stomach.

Alexander hasn't seen the frightening signs that the others have been afflicted with, so when he hears the tapping from under the ice, at first he just thinks it's the cracking of stressed ice, and he calls out, "Hey, Thorne! Get off the ice - it's cracking!" Adding his voice to Lilith's to try and keep people from getting a dunking. But when Byron starts wandering off in what seems to Alexander to be a random direction, he staggers to his feet. "What do you see?" He tries to move in that direction, but it's been...a while. He staggers drunkenly on the skate blades, and his arms pinwheel as he tries to keep his balance. Annnnnnd fails. Down he goes on his ass in the snow with an exclaimed curse.

By the time he's on his feet again, Isabella has elaborated a bit on what's actually being experienced. "Can someone describe what you're--thank you, Isabella. It doesn't ring any immediate bells, but...a lot of unpleasant things have happened in these woods." He frowns, and makes his way - slowly, carefully, with flailing arms - towards Isabella.

Lilith is tailing Byron with distance between them because she's damn wary of the ice and has NO clue what he's going on about or what Isabella is going on about over by Alexander. She just doesn't want him on the other side without her given the way he's suddenly off on a mission across the ice to try and see what's about on the other side where he heard that scream prior. Then there's knocking on the ice, which makes her do a couple of different things at once. Initially, she starts to bolt to Byron with a gasp, because she's afraid, but she has JUST enough wits to think maybe it's not a good idea for them to be weighting the same spot while something is pounding the ice from beneath and trying to...

Warn them? Plea with them? Get out? Or just plain scream in gurgling ghastly terror?

Doesn't matter because she reels with backpedaling, almost slips, then stops dead in her tracks to throw her hand up over her mouth when the image shifts to the gory sight between the trees, stifling a bit of a reflex scream with the unexpected view of it. She's not feeling drained like the others, but all she can do is stare when the scene changes again to that bloody writing, the last thing to fade from view...

Letter by letter. Number by number.

Byron has no idea what Alexander is talking about. He /checked/ the ice just now and it was pretty darn sturdy and should be able to support their weight. Nevertheless, as he's already on his way to cross back over the creek again, he doesn't immediately heed the other man's warning. "It's fine!" He calls out, though he reaches behind him to get at the revolver he has tucked into the back of his jeans, hidden beneath his heavy winter coat. Due to recent circumstances, he's more than likely packing on fire now. Isabella's mentioning of a murder, has his pace slowing mid-crossing to glance over his shoulder at her. "Who? Who was killed?" He obviously didn't see anything. Well, aside from the blood. If there was screaming coming from that direction--

He doesn't even have the chance to finish that thought when a wave of pain stops him in his tracks. There was this throbbing, squeezing sensation in his head and for a short moment, the shadows were creeping in ever closer to leave him in darkness. That only lasts for a draining moment before his sight returns to him in full and the pain subsides. But now he hears the cracking of the ice, or, at least some kind of pounding. The crimson blood that grows beneath catches his attention before the woman's pale face does, but the sight of it has him scrambling back and away from the center of the ice, gesturing towards Lilith, "Lilith, get back! Get off the ice!"

In his own panic, he scrambles further towards the other bank. That is until he sees yet another horror before his eyes, which brings him back onto the ice again. His legs are unsteady, the ice is harsh and slippery, but he's able to keep himself from spilling onto the icy floor out of fear because while he's reaching for his weapon with one hand, the other is still holding firmly onto that walking stick. "Jesus Christ." He breathes out between clenched teeth, standing somewhere in the middle of the frozen creek, keeping good distance between where he'd observed both manifestations.

As Alexander flails towards her, Isabella is already stepping to meet him halfway, her hands coming up in an effort to grab onto him, but her strength fluctuates; it nearly has her collapsing under his weight. "Step on the snow," she tells him quietly, in an attempt to pull him towards her, to let the blades sink into the fluff to give him additional stability. With just how much snow fall there is around, it might actually help him.

And then the forest twists around them. Her heart is in her throat and now the gun is out when she spins away from Alexander to point it wildly at her surroundings, green-gold eyes wide and her finger fumbling for the safety. It's telling, how she would reach for that when danger is around, when instinct would spur her, these days, to reach for a weapon instead of whatever her abilities at her disposal. But the power lashes out, a whipcrack to those who can sense it. Snow slides around and pebbles pop-pop-pop like bullets as the physical world starts waking - only whenever she's in danger. If she wasn't so suddenly terrified, the familiar stirrings of frustration would be there - she didn't used to be this way, unable to curb it. She used to have the kind of mastery Itzhak has.

And now...

Her grip on her gun is shaking, eyes wild and pupils dilated as she starts backing away, attempting to get a more solid grip on her weapon when she uses her other hand to cup it underneath. Her attention is fixed on the woman in her nightgown, gurgling the words and black blood and viscera spilling from her everything. Nausea nearly gets her then, her head lightheaded at the shock of it. The etching of the blood, though? Words - something to read, at least, catches her attention immediately.

"...Christmas?" she says from around the knot on her throat. "Not here...hasn't happened yet..." And forgive who?

"It's clearly not fine," Alexander calls back over to Byron, grumpily, with a look of gratitude for Isabella's support. He moves to step into the snow, letting the several inches provide some extra stability to his legs. And then the images and that wave of power hits, and he goes pale and silent, swaying in place, eyes wide. "Good god," he says, quiet and horrified. "Christmas. Yes. But." He has to take a deep breath, try to shake the latitude away. "Forgive my love. Not Forgive me, love." Another shake of his head. "I don't...does anyone actually feel like skating at this point?"

With Lilith already well on her way to backpedaling with reflexes and fear scramble toward her side of the stream banking, there's a slow motion movement after some delay to get the rest of the way off of the ice, as Byron was yelling for her to do. But she's staring with her hand over her mouth all the while until everything is done. Then she scrambles back more with sudden renewed haste to stand with forward pitch over her knees, hands dropping to lean against her legs for support. She almost dry heaves, but seems to be fighting it, the adrenaline of the moment catching up with her.

She's usually action instead of stares and heaves, in truth, but this kind of haunting scenario isn't anything to fight or face, it's just... different. And it appears to be affecting her differently than the strange and danger. Especially once she pushes up to look at the others on slow straightening and starts to call to Byron, eyes stealing a realizing glance beyond him at those fateful close tree trunks, "Byron, the ice, is it still okay? Can you come..."

"Oh god. The spikes are driven into the trees."

Yes. Those are the lumberjack spikes that were mashed through a woman's hands with the slamming pressure of a shadow mallet. They've been hammered in to rust, who knows how many years old.

Byron has no idea what Isabella sees. Or the words that she reads, so when he hears her mention something about Christmas, he has this puzzled look on his face. Or he would, if he didn't feel like he was caught between a rock (the thing in the creek) and a hard place (the other thing). He was smack dab near both of those.

Then... they were gone. The horrifying bloodied image across the way and the drowned woman, pounding up against the ice. All that they were left with was something pure and pristine once more. By now, he's already drawn his weapon, the revolver clutched tightly in hand and though he's standing in the middle of an icy creek, he's standing on steady legs. For now. Noting where everyone else is positioned, now that the apparitions are gone, he's giving the vicinity a careful survey with his eyes.

Hearing Lilith's voice, he complies in a slow, careful motion, all the while keeping his senses alert, eyes peeled. It's still Lilith who takes notice of it first, having spotted something in the distance while his gaze had already been drawn back to those gathered together. Immediately, he turns to see what she sees to see those spikes, threatening and ominous. He has no urge to investigate them further. Not yet anyway, but he will ask as he finally crosses the creek and steps foot back on slushy ground, "Everyone alright?"

"That could...that could mean anything," Isabella says after a hard swallow in an attempt to calm herself, forcing herself to lower her gun. "Forgive my love, as in a person she loves, or forgive my love, meaning...her. How she loves." She glances around them. "Though if this is how she's loving anybody, I don't want it."

With everyone else seeming to calm down a little, her eyes wander over to the rest. "Byron, Lil, are you-- " And then she mentions the spikes. As usual, Byron says first what she's about to. There's a smile cast in his direction.

Wary eyes turn over to the trees and the pinpoints of rust that she notices now that Lilith has pointed them out. "It's getting dark," the young woman murmurs and those flight or fight responses are in her blood, scorching her from within. "We should...we can't stay here."

"Fine," Alexander tells Byron. It's absent, thoughtful. His eyes are tracking what Lilith's pointed out. "...interesting. Do you think they're actually..." And now, because ghosts may be terrifying, but murders are interesting, it's Alexander's turn to wander - or rather stagger like a scarecrow - through the snow field, towards the trees that have those spikes driven into them. He measures the distance between his hand and the spikes. "I should get one. There might be evidence on it." After all this time, so much so that it's covered in rust? Let's be honest: It's absolutely clear that he intends to read that spike.

Lilith wets her lips and nods alright to Byron a few times while looking at the spikes, agreeing with Alexander's earlier sentiment with mild bother still on her features, eyes on the distant trees, "Mmhm. I'm alright. I think we're all alright, just... rattled. It's different than when we have to... like watching a horror movie, or..." She pauses, "A horrible antique snuff film. I-- don't think I want to skate anymore, no. Isabella's right, we should probably... go."

Also Isabella is right, it is starting to get dark, the snow and tree situation just makes it harder to tell the actual time. And given what they just saw, do they really want to be there in the dark? After an uncomfortable shift on her feet, Lilith looks at Alexander wanting one of those murder spikes because of course he does! Then she looks at Byron with a worried squint because there's... two spikes for taking. But after a sigh, she relents and points between the two men before stepping toward the stream bank to stare hard at the two trees for some precision cracking and breaking around the wood to loosen the spike from lodged in point on each tree. One falls out, the other barely hangs on in that cracked, cold wood.

"... since both of you probably want to touch them..." Which sounds HORRIBLE to her, as a non-mentalist, "I broke them free. But! Use a glove, damnit, and freak yourselves out later."

When Isabella keeps going on about something he didn't really take notice of, there's this curious look in Byron's eyes and he finally has to ask, "What are we talking about here? Who's love?" Now that he's safe and away from the drowned woman and the woman staked to the trees, he turns to look over his shoulders, adding, "Hers?" Though he's not sure who this 'her' is. He does look relieved that no one was hurt. He was separated from the pack for a time and he obviously missed something in that distance.

Leaning forward to pick up his duffel bag and the skates that hang from it, his posture straightens, eyes on Alexander. "This is your hobby." It's said rather lightly, already expecting the gruesome scenes to pique the other man's direction. He then smiles over at Lilith who, while she looks ruffled and frightened, she wasn't hurt. However, when she brings up the spikes, believing that Byron has any interest in old murders, he won't say otherwise, even if he's not really looking forward to reading that particular item. Nor does he have much interest. He's not the guy with an interest for murder scenes!

"Thanks." It's not the most enthusiastic show of gratitude given as he starts off in that direction to retreive the spike meant for him. Another look is given Alexander before he reaches down to pick it up, his hand already gloved. "But right. Unless we're planning on camping out here. We should get going."

Of course he's going to read it. There's a quiet sigh and a conflicted expression on her face. But Isabella says nothing and she tugs on her gloves. She exchanges, perhaps, a fond but exasperated look towards Lilith. "I'll go warm up the Jeep," she says, reaching down to pluck her skates off the ground. "Be careful!" she calls out to the boys, before she starts heading up the path to the Jeep.

"She's talking about... there was writing in blood in the snow. It had the numbers 12-25-19 like a date, maybe? Or a safe combination, I don't know. Then it said... forgive my love... but we don't know in which context and this... mm. Let's go." Isabella and Alexander are off, and once Lilith has gotten her things, she latches onto Byron for a tucked in hug despite all the layers blocking any real warmth contact. But she tries to soak all that warm cuddliness out of him anyway, at least the pieces reserved for her.

While tucked in, she chews in brief at her bottom lip and murmurs before breaking to move off toward where they're parked on the edge of the woods, eyeing the figures of company ahead of them now through the trees, "Never felt spooky out here before... did it? I don't think it did. But... maybe it's the snow."

Why would it be the snow? Who knows in this place. And snow is admittedly a bit of a rarity, especially snow like this, "... I hope the car isn't buried."