(1942-08-18) Run Down Demon
Run Down Demon
Summary: Innocent intentions turn into a great big helping of sh*t hitting the fan.
Date: 1942-08-18
Related: None.
Players:
clifton..aloysius..lucietta..frank..

Run Down Church, Higsi
Fri Aug 18, 1942


It is been many decades since this church has seen a service or any upkeep. As with most 19th century, country churches it is just two rooms, a small vestibule at the entrance where worshippers could hang there coats and hats, and than a much larger room lined with wooden pews with a short dais and alter at the front. A large fireplace with a stone surround was used to keep the place warm during the winter, it lays cold and bare now though.

The windows that line the walls to left and right are so dusty then let in little light, but remarkably most are intact, only a couple broken, the glass littering the floor. Dust, small bits of debris, feathers and other animal leavings litter the large room, the rafters have become home to various birds and the chimney is sure to house a colony of bats. Lastly, the roof sags in places and will surely cave in in the near future.

Weather:
It is summer. The weather is hot and clear.


<FS3> Lillie rolls Drawing: Good Success.

Evening is approaching, with perhaps a couple of hours of 'stable' golden sunlight left before everything gives over to the onset of darkness. This is the perfect time to pay a visit to this run down little church; nobody really pays it much mind, usually passing it by to get to where they must go. Even the local youth seem bored of it, not even seeing fit to mark it with any manner of vandalism. This is borne of a degree of propriety and perhaps, for some, strict religious upbringing. Either way, the church is left to moulder away in peace…

Beautiful, dusty, derelict peace.

The heat has abated some, being replaced by a muggy sort of heaviness that may or may not precede rain tonight. Through the dusty window panes and openings in the wooden slats of walls, the light glistens with dust motes. Someone is seated amidst this disarray, a slight singular form upon a pew, bent over just slightly as if in concentration. It's amazing how silent this place is; even the 'scritch scritch' of pencil upon paper seems loud.

Maybe that's what made the old church hold such a fondness in Clif's heart. Why he visited it so often. It's forgotten and tranquil beauty. Especially in early evening, it offered a sobering escape from the various stresses of the day. Not that the day had been especially stressful, but the Walker makes his way to the rundown house of worship. Walking through the doorway, he stops a few steps in as he sees a familiar figure drawing in the pews. "And here I was starting to miss our little run ins…" He offers with a smirk before continuing his path towards where Lillie was sitting.

<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Success.

It's funny how this abandoned site elicits so much relaxation… even the sense is as peaceful as it can hope to get, short of being 'asleep'. Sometimes Lillie has those blessed days where her mind is quiet…. perfectly, blissfully her own. She's not quite so lucky today but the empathy has been deadened a bit… which is interesting considering the stress of the past couple of days. Much of it brought on by gossip and the repercussions of caring for and loving a well-known and proficient 'gossip'. Today was spent with Josie, alas; Lillie is grateful to be apart from Tilda for even a day or two.

Hearing Clifton's footsteps, followed by his voice, the Irish woman glances over a bare shoulder to smile at him. "As was I. The world was beginning to feel rather off-kilter, even." Lillie offers, looking genuinely happy to see the Walker. "How are you, Clif?" She asks, kindness in her tone.

Clifton returns the young woman's smile with a nod "I've been alright. You?" Getting to where she sits, he doesn't join her but instead leans against the edge of the pew across the aisle from her, facing her though as his hands move into the pockets of his well worn jeans. "You doing alright?" 

The Empath shuffles her butt over some to make room, though the pew (this one being in better shape than most her) can easily hold three or four others alongside herself.  When Clif elects to lean against the pew across, Lillie pivots some so that she can face him. There, in her lap, is a sketch book… a fancy hardcover sort.  Beside her, an ancient cigarette tin of sorts… it's lid opaque beneath the sunshine.

"I'm…" She lifts a slender hand, wobbles it. "Been an absolute dance the past few days… I'm here for a bit of peace, and.. well… you may think me mad for my other reasoning, but is that anything new?" She asks amicably, lips pulling into a shy smile as her hair glows reddish-brown.

"It's been… well, interesting. Let's just say that."

A laugh comes from the Walker "Mad?  Never.  Eccentric?  Sure, but what's wrong with that?"  Clifton gives her a grin before his gaze catches sight of the tin.  A curious brow lofting.  "What's the tin for?  Or is that the 'other reasoning' bit you were referring to?"

The Walker's hit of laughter and his smile is a welcome thing. When she briefly encountered Clif at the Farm and Fleet that afternoon to hear tale of where Clyde had been… something was 'off'. Mind you now, about a week later, Clif seems… well… Clif'ish.  Nonetheless Lillie worries, and she leans forward with the book in her lap, her pretty skirts whispering.  "You're ok? You promise?" She asks again, giving him The Look before leaning back again to glance sideward at the tin.

"This belonged to one of the kids that grew up in my house… the firstborn to the couple who were wed, built that house, and had a family.  This tin dates back to 1900 or so… I found it beneath my step. I caught a vision of the child who hid it." Lillie's hand rests tenderly upon the tin. "It contains boyish treasure. That boy grew up and was killed in World War One."

A pregnant pause, and the Empath looks down at her book, long lashes feathering toward her cheeks.  "I am waiting for dusk, so that I may bury this tin at his grave.. maybe then these visions will stop."

"Yeah I'm fine" Clifton offers with a small nod.  Then, the story about the tin.  It gets a frown from the Walker as he listens.  "Shit those visions must take it out of you.  I don't know how you handle all of it."  She was a strong Irish Spitfire!  "You want some help?  Or I mean.  Company?"  Not sure what he could actually 'help' with.

"They're difficult… some are as sudden as a sneeze, with just as little repercussion… but sometimes…." Lillie shrugs.  "Remember the day you found me having a sort of fit, outside of the pharmacy? It has to do with that… sometimes it gets overwhelming… but that's life. Stress brings them on faster."

Lillie watches Clif for a moment, and picks up the tin. She opens it gently to reveal an assortment of knick knacks: marbles, little die cast toy cars, jacks, tiny spinning tops.. delicate papers bearing old childish drawings.  Assuming the Walker has a glance to his fill, she closes it up and opens her sketchbook to reveal an exact drawn rendition of what was in the tin, along with a very lovingly-done portrait of a sober-faced little boy of about 6 years of age in a dated sailor collar shirt.

"My way of committing this to heart." Lillie concurs before nodding toward a hand spade beside one dainty ankle. "You're welcome to join me out there.. I needn't dig deep, just enough to ensure the tin isn't found."

Looking within the tin as it's contents are shown to him, Clifton gives a sad smile.  "Kid had good taste."  Then thinking about that kid growing up.  Giving his life serving their country.  It was sobering.

Then seeing the sketch.  "That's beautiful, Lillie."  A glance to the church doors that led to the cemetery before back to her "I'd love to join you if you'd have me.  Pay my respects as well."

"I didn't get much from the family while negotiations were being made, for the house.. not even a photograph. T'was the two remaining kids with whom I had done business." Lillie admits, seeing fit not to go too far into details. Somehow it just helps to talk about it… she really shouldn't have such an attachment to the poor young man who cherished this thing at the turn of the century. Somehow, though…

"Since I moved into that house in May, I've seen him a handful of times.. mostly deliberate, anytime I worked in that crawlspace. Eventually I just cultivated the vision enough to catch his likeness." The Empath strokes the tin lovingly, looking sideward to Clif again. "I looked into the census at town hall and figured out that his name was Reginald, and he was killed in action in 1914. He was one of the very last to be buried in this old plot, since his family had pre-planned plots in place. Most everyone else is at rest over by the newer church. It'll be easy to place the tin here."

A soft smile, and leaving her sketchbook and supplies nestled over by the arm of the pew Lillie moves to stand, picking up the tin and the spade. "Of course you can join me. It won't take long.. let's head out there while it's quiet, and nobody is paying much mind." She insists, as the sunlight continues to dim into a reddish-ochre hue. She makes her way toward the doors that open up into the cemetery..

What could possibly go wrong..?

Following Lillie as she makes her way to the doors, Clifton listens to her retell her encounters and what she had learned about the young man.  His thoughts wander a moment to who knows where while he follows her out through the doors of the church that lead into the cemetery. 

Graveyard, Higsi


Beside the old church is an even older graveyard. Many of the town founders and first settlers are buried here. It hasn't seen any new graves though in quite some time. An eclectic array of tombstones both small and large dot the graveyard.

In a few areas are family plots, marked with a short wrought iron fence around a group of grave stones. The McCombs, Coppers and Butlers have family plots here. The whole cemetery is surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence with an elaborate scroll work gate.

A few large old oak trees decorate the graveyard, Spanish moss hanging from their limbs.

Toward the back of the graveyard is a small brick well, the brick starting to crumble, the little gazebo style covering decaying and its little roof sagging with age.


The good thing about Lillie is she isn't one to fill silences with unnecessary chatter. She has been raised to be especially reverent of graveyards, especially old ones. Many, MANY influential people rest here; perhaps even quite a few of the town's founders. The Empath looks as if she is ready to pass through the side-entrance that leads out into the cemetery, holding the tin under an arm and the spade in that hand, the other arm lifting so that she may rest her opposite hand upon the worn, weathered wood of the archway. Something seems to have distracted her a bit, her body straight as a post and briefly on edge, as if something caught her by surprise.

But it's the 'feel' of something that reaches her… subtle, from 'afar'. It's like the hint of something rotten that one might catch downwind… Lillie's sense of smell isn't THAT acute but there is something that smells off about the graveyard, like sour clothing and unwashed skin. A werewolf will certainly catch this.

But there's an emotional undercurrent that whispers to Lillie; an aura. Then there's straight up SEEING someone out there beneath one of the ancient oak trees.

"Clif.." Lillie whispers, "There's a strange man out there.."

Following a few steps behind her, it doesn't take long for Clifton to pick up on the shift in the air around them.  The smell easily hitting his nose as nostrils work for a moment against the odor, but then his expression pulling into an almost snarling glare.  He knew that smell.  He remembered it well and now it was just intensified.

Before Lillie even points him out, the Walker's gaze is focused on the man and Clif moves to step in front of the empath.  "Get back inside the Church, Lillie.  Now."  It isn't said in a commanding tone, but the sense of urgency is there.  

As for what Clifton is feeling?  There is anger.  Caution.  Worry.  Above all though there is the need to protect.

A heightening of stress and dash of fear begins to heighten Lillie's sense, and it is actually Clif — in her immediate proximity — who registers strongly… obviously. By the time the odor hits his nostrils, Lillie is looking up at him quickly to see his expression. Immediately her anxiety catches and she hugs the tin closer to her bosom, as if trying to protect the child that it once represented. "D-do you know who this is..?" She asks softly, under her breath, her eyes following the Walker as he positions himself moreso in front of her.

Too late. The man pauses, his back to the duo… did he hear voices? From that distance it's hard to tell, but there is another conscience at work here… heightened, hungry and cruel. Somehow the brief peep of a woman's voice really catches his attention and his head of shaggy hair twitches once. He is standing beside the tree, legs akimbo… what is he doing? Suddenly there is a long, steady stream of fluid sluicing against the base of the old oak tree. It may as well be a slap in the face.

This man is taking a piss in the middle of this sacred space.

Finishing up and setting himself back to rights — mercifully — he turns and there, 'lo and behold.. is Clif's pal from behind the Gallows! Aloysius looks terrible, worse… but his clothing is different. Not the best, but not quite as shredded as what he had worn back then. Looks like he got himself some new digs… but how? Aloy faces Clifton and the woman behind him, his gaunt features looking pained and exhausted but his eyes are nearly-opaque with sickness and malice. There's blood at the corners of his lips.

Lillie seems to flinch, as if hit with a great wave of.. something. Nausea? Fear?

"It's the bastard from the Gallows.  That night you found me."  The same bastard that had tried to burn it down.  In the pouring rain, but still!  Clifton's form is tense and rigid now as he keeps his gaze locked on the man.  

Right now his focus was staying between him and Lillie.  Not only out of care for her as a friend and out of desire to keep her empath feelers as far from him as possible…but shit.  She was the Alpha's girlfriend!  Protect!  That sense ran strong through him as he kept his stance firm.

"Get.  In the Church.  Now."  Again not commanding, but with even more urgency.  Now that he had explained how he knew Aloysius, she would understand the severity of the situation.  Last time he and the other man had gone at it, Clifton had ended up on the bad end of an ass kicking.  Still though…he had to try.  He wouldn't run.

Suddenly things make sense… and don't. How could this scrawny strip of man have been able to take down Clifton, that night? Lillie watches for a few seconds longer as she considers this, and Clif's order is what snaps her out of it. She's no idiot, she's not going to get in his way or be the cause of distraction.. but fear begins to roll off of her, now. Fear for Clifton. But maybe, now that he know what he's up against….

She begins to back into the church. This man.. he feels vile. Lillie's features flush as she makes to pose one more tremulous question, "Should I get Frank—"

"Hey little skirt! Hey little bitch! C'mon over here now and give me a look at ya!" The beaten-down man shrills in the direction of the two, clearly getting jollies out of scaring the young lady. His accent is heavy, of the South. Aloysius' tone is jeering, higher pitched as if strained.. as if it's taking a great effort to even speak. He freezes then as he sees Lillie retreat, leaving Clifton.. he lurches to the side and tries to slap himself in the face. Punches himself in the gut. "STOP IT—" He shrieks. "STOP STOP..!"

A shudder as he finds his footing again, and glares up at Clifton with that very same hateful look. His lips pull back into a sneer of his own, spittle tinged with blood. "Back for another round? I should've held yer face in the mud ya G'ddamn dirtbag!" He hollers, back to that raspy shrill even as tears begin to skitter past his nose.

Getting Lillie as far away from this guy sounded like a good idea to Clifton! "Yes. Go find Frank." He isn't trying to be dismissive, but right now he has two focuses. Not letting demon boy out of his sight and keeping Lillie safe. The rest of his attention and therefore his responses were rather blunt.

Then Aloysius decided to turn his attention, and comments, onto the Empath. His words cause Clifton to glare more as his words come out with a harsh force. "You don't talk to her. You talk to me. Got it, asshole?"

Then, the other man is having one of those fits again. Arguing with himself? Who cares, he's threatening Clifton and even worse he's threatening Lillie. "You bet I'm back. Now that I know the special breed of wicked you are, don't think it'll be as easy as it was last time. Or that I'll go easy on you again." Did he know exactly what Aly was? No, but he could bluff! Just had to keep the focus on him.

<FS3> Lillie rolls Clairvoyant: Success.

Worry not Clif, Lillie won't hold a thing against you. The rush of protectiveness has been noted: it seems stronger, though in past scuffles Clifton has always been quick-to-the-draw to see to it that she doesn't die. Why does it 'feel' different now? Even less wiggle room, in regards to contesting the 'order' to hide? To find Frank? Lillie ain't gonna waste time, though she doesn't go to the Gallows, not yet. She can't be whipping up a frenzy, because surely people will react and try to assemble and…. no.. just wait.

She will know when it's time. That and suddenly, Lillie feels… no.. not faint. Sick. Aloysius's aura — auras — have hit her solid.. what an awful combination of things. She ambles over toward the pew where she originally sat and crouches down beside it; she feels 'fuzzy' and not in the cute way.. but she'll be alright. Clifton cannot afford to worry about her right now.

As the Walker retorts against him, Aloysius may look upset and shaken but his voice is as rapacious and cutting as barbed wire. How can such a terrible voice originate from this skinny man? More incongruence. "Ya ain't knowin' a damned thing. I seen things," He titters then, stained mouth pulling back to reveal surprisingly gnarled teeth. "This lil' fucker here is startin' to wear out. I'm shopping!" What? He shrieks laughter.. he's far more talkative than he had been by the Gallows. By then the 'real' Aloysius had more control. Suddenly, in a motion that is akin to an elastic band snapping, the scrawny man picks up an old pot — about the size of a honeydew and comprised of solid ceramic — from the foot of a grave. It once held flowers, left there by a loving family.

He then sprints forward a couple of feet, heaving it toward Clifton with surprising strength, likely from about ten feet away.. aimed for the head and upper body.

All that Clif knew was that Lillie was out of immediate danger. That was good enough for him. Facing down Aloysius now, he keeps that hardened glare on the man as he talks…but his words are confusing. Shopping? What was wearing out? If it was all ever figured out it would seem so obvious given the current state of the man's physical form, but Clifton didn't have any dealings with this sort of stuff. Not until now anyways. Damnit, Higsi!

However, the Walker did have dealings with combat. That much he knew. So when the pot of thrown at him he dodges it easily enough, keeping his feet planted in the same place as his form leans to one side away from the projectile. Standing back up straight and not making a move towards the other man. Letting him make all the advancements for now and trying to keep the upper hand. "Gotta' do better than that. Or are you losing your touch? I don't remember your aim being this awful last time." One thing he knew he could do was drive the man into a fury.

The Empath is no cause for concern right now, but the downside is that the demon knows that she is close, unless she left the church altogether. THAT much, he can't surmise. The boy at the heart of this beaten-down body, the one who is looking out and can see all of this happening and sense the demon's horrible thoughts, continues to rail and scream from within. He doesn't want to be doing any of this… the things he has seen!

Whatever the guy meant by 'shopping' and the like, it isn't expanded upon. Needless to say this horrific human ruin won't be traipsing into Woolworths anytime soon.. this is another type of shopping and just think of what damage he / it could do if given the body of a werewolf and not a dying adolescent whelp.

There may be a similar tactic at work here. The taunt warrants another nasty, sneering grin. "Ain't rememberin' on account of me knocking ya the fuck out." The demonic voice grates in an overlay over that plaintive boyish timbre. Aloysius simply makes his way toward Clif, ambling along! As he gets closer, his smell is disgusting.. he reeks of filth, unwashed flesh, some sort of rotten coppery smell. Eyes with pale-gray irises glare at Clif. "Quit distractin' me… got a little piece in there t' get to know." He spits at him, looking intent on making his way toward the church, Is he gutsy or just plain dumb?

While Clifton may be good at making Aloysius angry, he had his own anger to worry about too. Even if he wasn't close friends with Lillie like he was. Even if Clyde wasn't dating her like he was. The words spoken by the man, his plans for an innocent in all this, were still enough to make Clifton's blood boil. "I'll kill you before you make it to that door." Lillie was at least inside, maybe he could shift and end this guy and get away with it. Was it worth the risk though?

To protect Lillie…with what that demon had planned…absolutely it was worth the risk. So if he made it necessary, Clif would not hesitate. For now though, he tried to contain it through normal methods. Or as normal as possible for the Walkers. "You just going to keep talking shit all day or are we gonna dance?" Clifton finally says, lips pulling into a snarl as his fists clench, readying himself for an attack.

Does this demonic consciousness have the ability to surmise or 'sense' whatever Clifton is? Mercifully no… there are no gnarled, greedy fingers placed upon any significant arcane pulse. Oh he's watchful though; his little jab worked, dislodging that slab of control just that tiny bit and seeing it winking with promise in Clif's eyes. EVen if the boy whose body the demon had overtaken is scared, the demon could care less.

The Walker's fists clench and the gaunt man pauses closeby, literally alongside him as if he were a stranger passing by on a sidewalk, giving morning salutations.

That ugly, indulgent smile… and like a lightning-clap, the expression snaps into a sneering moue of hate and in that very same reactive speed, Aloysius moves to throw a swing toward the side of Clifton's head… but then, within inches, it doesn't find purchase.. the fist stops. Aloy is trying to throw a feint punch so that he may pivot around and attempt to curbstomp his heel toward the Walker's left kneecap.

<FS3> Clifton rolls Alertness: Great Success.

Clifton watches Aloy's movements, every muscle in his own form ready to react and on guard. This fight wasn't just about taking down Aly. No. Lillie was counting on Clif to not let Aloy get to her. Clyde was counting on him whether he realized it or not. He wasn't here, so Clif would protect in his stead with the same fierceness as the Alpha. Or try. The potential risk to so many people he cared about was too high for Clifton to let his guard down. So when the punch is thrown, he pulls his form back again, but keeps his feet planted still.

Then, his trained attention catches the demon's attempt at a fake out. That foot rising up with malicious intent aimed towards Clif's leg. Good move…if the Walker hadn't caught on. So it is now that Clifton's tensed and ready leg kicks out, not only removing it from the line of Aloy's attack, but also aiming his own attack in return. To try and kick the bastard's other leg out from under him and send him to his back. If it worked, the foot would follow through to raise up and come down hard against Aloy's chest, aiming to pin him to the ground with an extra strength and force the Walkers were so gifted with.

The beauty part here is that deep down, Aloysius is no tactician. He was.. still is.. just a simple kid. Nor is this malicious spirit any manner of mastermind in how to go toe-to-toe with a werewolf. All movements and reactions are based out of a wellspring of nasty, dirty intention and little-to-no finesse. So when Clif indeed catches onto his attempt to hobble him and reacts smoothly and viciously, Aloysius ain't pulling off ninja moves to avoid what comes next. Down he goes, kids!

Landing sprawled beneath Clif's foot, perhaps with another cracked rib and a bruised sternum to add into the bouquet of hurt that the kid is physically fielding… the demon abruptly retreats in his mind.. perhaps in a ploy. Leaving all of the awareness of pain, of terror and hurt to flood into the wrecked boy's features like a torrent.

He blinks hard; once, twice… wriggles ineffectually beneath Clif's heel. His eyes are huge and terrified, and so very very blue now, in his dirty face. "Kill me—" He wheezes, begs.. a young man's voice. "Find a priest. Anyone. P-please just do something I don't want to do this anymore.." The boy cries out, strained. "Please make him stop." He begins to cry then, openly and earnestly as he grabs at Clifton's pantleg and clings to the cuff like an upset child.

THe demon waits.. lets the poor little fucker beg for death. Maybe enough to make the werewolf falter.. even just for a second..

Clifton might falter if the circumstances were different. If there wasn't somebody he was protecting. Or if he hadn't gone through this back at the Gallows during their first encounter. "Last time I let myself feel pity for you…I regretted it. You're gonna' have to do better than a few tears and begs this time around!" The pressure from his foot increases on Aloy's chest as Clif leans forward in his stance. "Start. Talking. Why are you doing this? Who are you? Make 'who' stop?"

The weight is incredible, so much so that the boy coughs.. it sounds a bit rattly. But as it stands, despite being pinned by an angry werewolf… he's as clear as he can hope to be. No twitching, no puking or frothing or any of those nasty side-effects. His lower lip quivers once before it is pulled up into the strained expression of being bitten down upon, strictly due to the force on his chest. He doesn't even try to dispute anything, but rather.. "I ain't got much time, hehe.. always comes back.. ya gotta kill me" Aloysius, the true Aloysius, wheezes with tears in his eyes and voice.

Who is he? Who was he? He remembers most of it still as his hands come up to grip the Walker's foot, mostly in a begging gesture to ease off some so he can talk. "Name's Aloysius.. Thaxton… f-from Fairhope, Alabama." A shudder, as if the memory of home sickens him. "Ma and Pa thought m-me t'not be right on account of.. I-I don't know.. I wasn't too good in school a-an' always wanted to be busy b-but I was good.." A wheeze. "Done nothin' t' nobody… they hurt me. H-had this holy man come and do some kinda ritual and I don't remember much else—-"

He looks up then, hurt and heart in his eyes. "Make the demon stop."

Clifton 's angry gaze stays down upon the man, but his foot eases just enough for Aloy to be able to talk easier. Then…that story. Aloysius Thaxton. Fairhope, Alabama. Clifton commits it to memory. The rest of it, has his form tensing, but in a different way. Still on guard, but shock was now running through the Walker too. "…Demon?" Shit. The look in his eyes was there though. Clifton could sense it on him. Aloy was genuinely and truly afraid now. A different presence to the way he talked and to his mannerisms than had been just moments before. "How do I stop it? Other than killing you." Was he just being gullible? Falling into another trap? He didn't know, but if this guy really was being hurt and it really was something else…Clifton had to try to help. Didn't he?

There's not a scrap of deceit in the boy's eyes.. he is completely aware, off the hook, in desperate need for help. "T-the thing I seen, I can't forget 'em.. that he.. it.. made me do.. can't forget. K-killin' me is easier.. just put that there foot on my neck and press as hard as y'did just now a-and—" He takes a deep breath, tears cutting through the filth on his cheeks. Clifton's reaction to his tale, even the barest easing up on his chest, is noted and not acted upon.

"N-need another holy man.. a priest t' call him out. But I'm just so goddamned scared—" Aloysius hitches with a rusty sob. "Tell yer ladyfriend in there I'm sorry, I ain't meanin' no harm to any ladies.. it's all the demon, I swear it." He cries harder now, hands dropping to his sides as his breath hitches hard, painfully.

"What holy man would look at me and wanna help me?!" Aloysius cries out again.. no demonic shriek, just a boy who has been wronged horribly.

Lillie, in the church, can hear the voices and 'feel' it all. Her forehead presses against the pew as she weeps despite herself.

Clifton looks into the boy's eyes, seeing that fear. That desperation. Hearing Aloy's words about what the demon has made him do. Nobody should have to live with that. Clif…could end it. Right here right now. Put this guy out of his misery and stop the chaos going on in town. The Walker's foot starts pressing down again on the boy's chest as he stays over him, gaze locking with Aloy's. Maybe so in some morbid way the kid didn't feel alone at the end of it all? The pressure builds as Clifton steps down on him. With the weakened condition Aloy's body was in, it wouldn't take much more and the boy would be done…and the demon with him. Or was it that simple?

Clifton's foot pauses in it's assault. Aloysius had mentioned 'shopping'. Or the demon had. That this one was starting to 'wear out'? Shit, does that mean the demon could jump into a new body if it wanted? From what Aloy had managed to tell Clif so far, the demon was put in him…but that didn't mean it couldn't move on it's own accord either. Or if this body got killed. What if that's what the demon was trying to do? Why it let Aloysius get control long enough to tell Clif all this.

Clifton couldn't take that chance. His foot eases off in it's pressure, but stays against Aloy's chest. No longer a crushing weight, but enough to stay on him. His gaze lifts and goes to the church, where he knew Lillie was. "Lillie! Go get Frank! Hurry!" There was an urgency there now. At this point, he knew Frank is the one who had made the symbols. He may not be a 'holy man' but he was the best shot they had!

It would be easy; all that strength in a werewolf's body, focused into the leg and bottom of a foot? One solid curbstomp to the bridge of a nose; pressure to the windpipe or a few measured blows to the chest to shatter organs. Aloysius, in this moment of clarity, is asking for it. He's watching Clifton with clear, agonized blue eyes with his hands still resting, palm up, atop the earth.

As the Walker ruminates the boy coming back into himself for this long, there is something else at work here. In the church, apart from the scuffle but still somewhat aware of the 'aura' at work here, Lillie remains crouching.. wan, pale and sick to her stomach. The spade is held tight in her first, in case she needs to shove it into a throat. Suddenly, she hears Clif calling out to her, giving the order… she pushes herself to her feet, stumbles. And then—

His moment has arrived! The demonic entity in the poor kid's head flares to ghastly, vicious life at the first recognizable feeling of 'relent'. Soundlessly, his lips pull into a sneer.. it takes mere seconds. Infused with the terrible strength that both helps and destroys the boy's very soul, his arms lash upwards and fingers knit into Clif's pantleg… with a harsh shove he both pushes the Walker's foot off of his chest and revealing a taut calf muscle, lunges forth and tries to sink his filthy teeth into the flesh and muscle. Chomp chomp!

.. ew.

<FS3> Clifton rolls Brawl: Success.

Clifton looks back to Aloy too late, met with the stinging pain from the bite. Owww! Biting his lip against a full yell, the Walker lets the groan of pain build until it's a yell of anger. "You. Bitey. Son of a bitch!" In a moment of anger he leans down and delivers a swift kick with his free foot to the man's gut. Trying to get him off. To wind him so he can hopefully keep him down until Lillie gets back with Frank.

WHUMP! The kick to the guts dislodges Aloysius and as he rolls to the side, his breath whistling and gurgling in his chest as he tries to regain it, he pushes and struggles like an intoxicated man in his attempts to regain his footing. Upon doing so he stumbles, retches, and unleashes his token barrage of projectile vomit onto the ground and in Clifton's general direction. It's vile, more vile than the previous tussle. His teeth clench together as he wheezes, puke and blood dribbling from his chin as he glares murderously at Clifton. The true blue of his eyes is, once again, opaque and pale. Still wheezing and huffing, he turns and makes a break for the church.. but running is hard when your lungs are desperately grasping for breath. Is Lillie still in there?!

… nope. Lillie ain't dumb. Though Clifton's yell rocked her to the core, she broke into a hard run out of the church and in the direction of the dive bar, earning the startled glances of those who see her. It seems to be the Empath's 'thing' lately: run into the Gallows in a panic, shouting down the walls for Frank to help her. But this is exactly what she does… and if the cranky ol' boy is able to join her, she will be hoofing it back to the church.

The state Lillie is in, the sheer upset, should hopefully be fodder enough to gain that help.

Frank grabbed the special rifle from underneath the bar and took off after Lillie. She's going to get a bad rep if she keeps yelling like that in his bar. He's already got out a small bottle of some sort of liquid; it kinda looks like a flask. "Tell me where and then get behind me!"

<FS3> Clifton rolls Brawl: Good Success.

Clifton can only hope that Lillie listened and made it to Frank. For the time being though, he fights like help isn't coming. When Aloy vomits, Clif tries to jump back but still manages to find the bottom half of his pants hit with the spray. Great. How was he going to explain that to Ethel!?! The smell hits his nose instantly, making the werewolf's stomach lurch, but he pushes forward and as the demon carries it's host body towards the church…Clifton follows right after. Trying to catch up, he'd jump and attempt to tackle Aly to the ground, wrapping his arms around him from behind to try and pin him.

Bad rep? Bad rep? Lillie's reputation is already poised on the edge of the shitter… and Clifton is in danger! Even if they're on her front lawn tomorrow screaming 'witch!' (and sadly Walker scent markings won't ward that off) she won't regret a thing. Frank was there, and Frank joined her.. that is at the forefront of the Empath's mind and she will deal with it as it comes. She tumbles into the church, but does not go toward that side door that leads into the old, old cemetery… full of town founders. Frank bids her to direct him and she crumples beside a pew, looking as if she is going to be sick. "G-graveyard." She whispers.

And in that graveyard, Aloysius is yet trying to get to the church. He's not moving as quickly as he should on account of still being winded, but he's doing surprisingly well. Until Clifton tackles him, bringing him bodily to the ground. His body becomes a thrashing thing as he is pinned, filled with that surprising and terrible degree of strength. His arms rake and claw at the earth until, assumedly, Clifton attempts to restrain those too. Even compared to a Walker's strength, the possessed man's desperate struggle is nothing to sniff at. He strains, head lifting, uttering a rusty shriek into the evening air.

<FS3> Frank rolls Firearms: Success.
<FS3> Frank rolls Firearms: Great Success.

The barkeep barrels in, it's kinda what hunters do. The shot gun is leveled and fired. Even if it hits, it's strangely just rock salt, which will sting, but not do anything else. Sorry Clifton, you may get hit too. But that will hopefully give the man enough time to drop the gun and get close enough to splash the possessed man with blessed water. He's not got proof beyond what Lillie said, so…yeah. he needs to know.

Clifton holds onto Aloysius with everything he has, and as that shriek hits the air he grimaces. Now imagining the pain the actual body being controlled must be in. Sorry, dude. Then, gunfire. Both out of instinct, and finding himself hit with something, Clif lets go of Aloy and rolls away. Letting out a startled pained "Fuck!" he sits up, brushing off his arms and chest and anywhere else the salt may have hit. It might not have hurt as bad if he had been prepared for it, but both being caught off guard and not fully aware of what just hit him…yeah. Aloy and Frank are left to play together for the moment.

Dimly aware of a loud BANG and a spark of light somewhere close to the church, Aloysius is abruptly focusing on the fact that his pain level goes from strictly physical to that and the inner sound and feel of a demon SCREAMING in agony. It's a powerful, potent sensation… it's something that pushes the boy's reserves of strength to the limit. It shows, too… even as Clifton rolls away to avoid the scattershot of rock salt.. he's too busy thrashing and screaming as cords stand out in his neck and sobs war with bellows of rage. Holy shit holy shit. His palms slam against the ground, in an attempt to push himself up… how much more can this poor boy take?

Frank tests that further. The holy water dashes across his filthy body, glittering in the dying light. Then shit really hits the fan.

Pain and the fierce desire to survive, to escape, is what pushes Aloysius to his feet.. he thrashes and twitches in some macabre dance, like a marionette, as the water dribbles and quivers along his extremities. His face lifts to glare daggers at Frank, even as his features contort in rage and agony. He looks ready to holler something at him… but it's not what one expects. "KILL ME—" A crying, plaintive shriek as the boy uses the last vestige of strength to make a break for the gate, in a bid to escape. Pain and fear makes him swift.. and if he manages to elude the old hunter, he is off into the night.. toward the Clinton Trail. If.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Frank=reaction Vs Demon=4
< Frank: Failure Demon: Success
< Net Result: Demon wins - Marginal Victory

Frank's not a spring chicken, he gives chase, pulling out a knife as he moves. It's awful shiny. But the demon is just beyond his reach, poor Frank is going to be very out of breath when this is all over.

Clifton watches as Aloy makes to get away, seeing Frank chase after him. Knowing better than to get in between the man and his target, the Walker instead pushes to stand. Brushing himself off once more he moves to step forward, grimacing a moment and looking down towards his ankle. It was probably already healed enough, but dang if that didn't hurt! Especially with all of that dried blood and whatever filth was going on in that mouth. Good thing he didn't have to worry about infection. Clif's next thought "Lillie…" and he turns to make his way back to the church. "Lillie!?" Because he knew she would have come back here with Frank. Back to danger. Because why not!?

Worry not, Aloysius isn't going to stick around to gloat. He pounds across the cemetery, miraculously dodging the odd headstone here-and-there and not tripping or otherwise hindering his escape. He can hear Frank giving chase; the demon howls and rails in the poor boy's mind: normal men will have tried to fill him with buckshot. Normal men will have blown his head off. THIS man used salt, and holy water.. and he Knows Things. Somehow this is scarier, at least to the demon.

Clumsily kicking off of an ornate headstone inscribed with the surname 'Butler', this is enough leeway to vault his wretched body up over the iron gate and out into the street. Aloysius then stumbles off into the night, making way for the cover of the backwoods.. eluding the threat. For now.

Meanwhile Lillie continues to nestle against the pew, hugging the cigarette tin to her chest. Still pale, still troubled… but completely and wholly okay. Clifton enters the church and will easily find her nestled there, small and troubled. "A-are you okay?" She asks abruptly.. wasting no time. Her voice — and accent — are thick with upset.

Frank slams into the gate, but knows his body well enough to not even attempt the vault. Damn it all. He tries to study the fleeing figure, he's going to have a lot of research to do. Once he's sure the demon has bolted he starts making his way back to see if the Walker and Lillie are ok. And to ask some questions.

Clifton doesn't say anything at first. Once he finds Lillie, sees the state she's in and realizes that she is safe now, the Walker just reaches out a hand. If she took the hand he would then pull her up and into a hug. "I'm fine." She's fine, he's fine. Well she's alive. Fine will come with rest. For now, he just tries to comfort her.

And the Empath shall allow this comfort, accept it. Assisted to her feet, she will squeeze the Walker into a fierce hug, tight and protective, before pulling back and looking him over. Her green eyes rivet to that awful bite on his calf; she recognizes the shape as being human and her eyes automatically fill with disgusted tears. "J-Jesus Christ!" She cries out, her voice thin and frightened. "He.. he bit you?! D-didn't—-" She breaks into a staccato of sobs.. pauses. Rallies. Lillie just doesn't do hysterical.

A sharp sigh, and she continues. Lillie only curses when she is highly stressed. "The human mouth is fucking filthy," Lillie remarks, "We have to get that looked at.. what i-if it festers, Clifton.." She whispers. Eyes lift to regard Frank's arrival and she watches him almost reverently, appreciatively. Her slender hand fists away her tears. "Frank, I'm so sorry.."

Frank's no nonsense about this all, "Give me all the details, now." He eyes Clifton's leg, but doesn't comment. It anything transferred with the bite, it's too late now. The hunter keeps his gaze moving, making sure the demon isn't 'round back.

Clifton reaches one foot over to kick down his pant leg back over the bite mark, "I'll have Clyde look at it," he tries to assure her before looking back over to Frank. He wastes no time either, telling the man everything. "He said his name is Aloysius Thaxton. From Fairhope, Alabama. Talked about his mom and dad. Said they thought something was wrong with him…" The Walker frowns, looking back at the vomit stains down the front of his pants. "Said they had a holy man come out…who put a demon in him. With some kind of ritual."

The Walker looks back up at Frank then with an angry gaze, but not directed at the man. Just at the memory. "The demon talked to me. Kept fighting for control I think? I don't know. There were two different tones or voices or…something. The demon said how he was 'shopping' and how Aloysius was…wearing out." This was the part where Frank said there was nothing to worry about right? No body hopping! No worries!

As always, the mere sight of Frank keeps Lillie calm. Right up there with Clyde and Clifton, he represents safety. Once she is sure Clifton is okay she lowers herself to sit down upon the pew, holding the tin in her lap. Her eyes are large and doe-like in her face still; wrought with anxiety that is barely kept in check. She politely remains silent as Clif relays the details on poor, wrecked Aloysius.. her expression can be seen crumbling at the thought of what he's going through. "Oh no.." She whispers, lashes fluttering over her cheekbones as she wipes them free of moisture.

"He's the one w-who invaded my shed and yard, I'm sure. Clyde dealt with it." She pauses, draws strength from that very name. Green eyes open to look upwards at the rafters, filled with cobwebs and bird nests. "He.."

Okay, she feels okay. Waiting for an opening, Lillie offers next. "I think your Devil Trap was what stopped him.. it.. from dealing massive damage to my property."

Frank's beard bristles. None of this is making him happy at all. The very shiny knife, which makes Clifton a little uncomfortable this close is slid back into the sheath. "I'll send out inquires about this 'holy man'." He tries to think if he knows anyone in Fairhope, but he'll have to call a few towns over. He gives no reassurances. Lillie gets a frown, "What were the two of you doing out here?' Not that kind of judge questions, more it's dangerous. He nods about the devil trap, "It should have stopped him cold, from what I read. With him struggling…" Well, Frank has to do some research. He's still breathing heavy, he's not ran like that in some time.

Clifton listens to what the man says, watching as the knife is slid away. There may have been more than one reason he was standing closer to Lillie! When Frank mentions making his inquiries, he just offers a nod. Then, the question. "I was coming by here on my way home. Lillie was already here so we started talking…" He'd let Lillie explain why she was here if she wanted to. "The markings you put up? Yeah they seemed to be giving him trouble that first night I ran into him at the Gallows…"

Of all things, Franks heavy breathing warrants Lillie's concern. "Frank, please sit.. here." She offers, affectionately. She may not let on but she has a lot of heart for the cranky barkeep. She will not push though; surely he chafes at coddling, but she is worried about him. The question as to what they were 'doing' here causes the Empath to look down at the tin she is holding onto.. tightly. "I-I had no idea he was out in the graveyard. I truly didn't. I was having a moment to myself here in the church before w-we found him." She admits, not keeping anything to herself.

"I was going to try to bury this tin on top of a family plot at dusk, just to.. have it out of my house. There are visions attached to this tin." She offers, does not bloat things with further explanation.

"He was mostly warded off by the trap… s-sensed it, flailed or did something similar.. fled. The signs were all there. Sigils and carvings seem to affect him." Lillie guesses, her head tilting down sadly, hair obscuring her features.

Frank frowns, not following why Lillie's asking him to sit. "You need to not be in places like this, alone." Not that she was alone, but still! "See if you can stay with Tilda or someone else in town till this is taken care of. Those traps aren't holding him completely, I need to research. He shouldn't sense them till he's in it. " his beard bristles again and then holds his hand out for the tin.

Clifton wasn't gonna argue with Frank about him saying Lillie needed to stay with someone. If she wanted to they'd talk about it later. "What can I help with?" he asks, looking back to the older man.

Surely… surely this tin can't be…

Expression grave, with her color high, she nonetheless hands the tin over to Frank. It's dated between 1899.. 1901… beaten up, scuffed, but resilient. Looking inside? Marbles, a couple of toy cars, a pair of spinning tops…. a few childish drawings upon paper that is as fragile as a dusty moth's wing. A little boy's hidden treasure.

"O-one of the kids that used to live in my house.. killed in the first war. I see him sometimes." Lillie whispers, then seems to flinch belatedly at the prospect of staying with Tilda. After that stint and how she seemed to have been easily — too easily — drawn into the old woman's web of gossip, Lillie's head shakes vehemently atop the lithe stalk of her neck. "Josie.. if anything, I'll stay with Josie. O-over on Pine. She has kept a room for me.." A sudden, worried look. She turns to Clif, "Will you tell Clyde? Just so he doesn't worry.. he doesn't need more cause to worry." She says softly, before glancing to Frank.

Frank eyes the tin and then up to Lillie, "Seen as in visions, or specter?" Cause they don't have enough to worry about apparently. He does not give the tin back. "I don't care where, just don't be alone." And Pine is much closer for Frank to come help if needed.

Clifton watches Frank take the tin, brow furrowing before he looks over to Lillie and offers her a nod. "I'll tell Clyde. Don't worry." She had enough on her plate right now. He could handle this. With Frank's question then his attention goes back to the older man before to Lillie again, remembering what she had said but he was still curious about it.

"Visions." Lillie says confidently, tilting her chin up to meet Frank's eyes, if he will allow it. "Always replaying the same thing. Always when I touch the tin. I know naught if my house bears ghosts.. I wouldn't know how, or where to look.. b-but I'd hazard to say that isn't a problem." She pauses, looking panicked as the barkeep doesn't hand the tin back… her fingers knit into her skirts. She respects Frank too much to demand it back. "Visions." She emphasizes, brow furrowing as she looks briefly to the tin and back to his bearded face. Her slender fingers work, worrying at the fabric of her pretty skirts as she considers.

"I'll be safe. I promise.. I don't want to be cause for concern, for anyone.." She looks down into her lap, at the spade winking in the final dying light of the evening. "Do you need to keep the tin for awhile?" The Empath asks softly.

Frank's not going to take any chances, "I'll take care of the tin." That's it, no explanation of how he'll take care of it. He turns back to look in the direction that the possessed man ran. "I can fortify the Gallows, but I can't do that to every damn building in town. If either of you see him, try to get to me without him seeing you."

Clifton frowns as Frank states about keeping the tin, but he also knows better than to get in the middle of it. "If you teach me how to do it, I can try and help with those Devil Trap things. So we can get more places?" He offers. "Or what all does it involve?"

Take care…?

Again, that respect: don't question, don't fret. Lillie looks stricken for all of two or three seconds before she nods once. All she wanted to do was superficially bury the tin at the head of poor Reginald's grave! Stupid Aloysius ruining her plans! She looks between Frank and Clifton, knowing not to interject herself into the middle of that which she does not understand… wholly.

"Is there anything I can do, to help you? He hasn't had a thing to do with my yard since… since everything. He doesn't seem interested in revisiting locations…" She hazards a guess, wiping her eyes and shoving a thick hank of reddish-brown hair behind an ear.

Frank bluntly offers, "I don't know if you'd be able to, Clifton." You know, for reasons. Monster reasons. Head shake, "We don't know his desires yet. Now that he's seen you, he could become interested again." He finally raises a hand to rub his tired face, "Carry holy water, that should repel him." That's for both, although again he doesn't know if whatever Clifton is will negate holy water.

Whether it was expected or not, Clifton doesn't argue. He may not get it, but he trusted the man's assessment. "Alright. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Either to help Aloysius or to just help end it. Seeing Lillie wipe her eyes again he shifts his stance to be closer to where she sits on the pew.

"There was a man…" Lillie starts, her eyes surprisingly bright in the sharp evening sunlight. "The newer church, closer to town… a minister who had come to town. He was there when the.. sigiled man.. made an appearance. Didn't I hear the… the boy begging for a holy man?" Regardless of whether or not Frank or Clifton remember the other can of worms that appeared in Higsi at random, Lillie does not pause to consider. She watches solemnly as Frank rubs his face, and she feels terribly for him. Wonders about his story, who he is.. why does he involve himself in these messes? She tilts her head becomingly, looking worried. "I need to get home, to c-close up the house. I'll go tonight." She says, tone wrought with regret. Lillie does not want to leave her home.

Lillie makes to stand, picking up the spade and looking bereft. Clifton draws closer and she looks up at him appreciatively, before looking to Frank. "I will still have something for you this weekend. Roast beef dinner." She says with a stubborn little set to her chin. Josie will just have to deal.

Help? "Carry around Holy Water. And walk her home and to Josie's." Don't ask to help, Frank will give you work. The bat keep nods with a sigh, he remembers but hasn't seen him since. He just grunts, but doesn't argue food. A warm decent meal might keep him focused when figuring this all out. "I need to get my gun." And with that he turns and heads back out to the grave yard to get it. and scan the are for the grave that Lillie was going to put the tin. He'll bury the ashes there.

What else would Clifton have been expecting when asking to help? Non-work? The Walker nods to what Frank says, "Alright. Thanks…for tonight…" He may have gotten hit with rock salt, but it was a heck of a lot better than how things could have gone. With the added strength the demon gave Aloysius, it was really a toss up. Granted he knew Frank hadn't shown up just to save his ass, but still the gratitude was offered. He then looks to Lillie "You want to go ahead and head out? We can stop by your house. Get what you need and then head to Josie's?"

"Thank you Frank.." Lillie says gently, again, as she takes note of the advisory to carry holy water. That'll be a fun request, walking into the 'new' church on Sunday. 'Hey, hos about a pitcher of holy water? I'm really fucked!' … ugh. She goes on to watch Frank for a time, no longer worried about the tin… why should she be? He mentions seeking out his gun and the Empath nods slowly, sadly. "Of course." She says nothing more… watching as the older man departs through the side-door. "Rutherford." Lillie pauses, offering next. "Reginald." Just in case; just in case he sees fit to finish what she started. The lost boy's grave was one of the very last to be pre-ordained before the new burying ground was opened up to the town of Higsi.

Worriedly watching Frank for another few moments, Lillie looks up at Clifton as he speaks to her. "I would like to get this over with before I lose my nerve.. I don't want to but it's.. important. I needn't much to get by." She says gently as she picks up her spade and sketch book and supplies. "Are you okay to walk on that leg?"

Clifton watches Frank leave and then nods to Lillie "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll mention your situation to Clyde when I get home like you said too. I'll go straight there from Josie's." That said, he waits for her motion to leave. Making sure she had everything sorted here first.

"Don't let him worry.." Lillie says as she collects her things, standing quietly and reverently in the empty space of the old church before nodding to herself. To Clifton? To the resident ghouls? A sad smile, "Thank you.. just keep his burden and his stress as minimal as possible, when it comes to me." She bids her friend, before moving to make her way out of the church. She looks as if she has anything, and everything on her mind… dreadfully uncomfortable. But Lillie shall cope; she always does.

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