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010 » something wicked this way comes

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: ???
WHEN: Day 010
WHAT: Spooks happen. Some sanity loss may occur. (More on that next week!)
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Thank you so much for your patience with this! My Friday was much busier
than expected, so I'm very sorry for the lateness on getting these out to you all.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Gyuki"

DAY 010
“We make up horrors to help
us cope with the real ones.”
—Stephen King
The day dawns but few wake to see it. Only one, who has been exempt from the strange happenings about to unfold. She will face a day like any other, a farce of normality in an utterly abnormal universe — but she will face it alone. For none who will experience these strange happenings are to be found in the town until the next morning dawns. Each has been taken, whisked away to another layer of the town, peeled back and exposed like a raw nerve.

Mathias screams and there are none who can hear it.

THE DETAILS
Each exploration, encounter, and revelation happen separately from one another. Though some may include the same locations, none will overlap in time or space. The circumstances laid out in each prompt are exclusive to that situation — do not assume the answers someone else received will also apply to you.

Players may ask questions as they normally do for logs, but these should be kept as part of the designated thread. You may create a subthread under your header for questions, or intersperse them with your "tags". Your responses may be formatted as IC tags or as a more OOC "telling" what your character does rather than showing.

DAY 011
All characters involved in this event will wake on the morning of Day 011 in the exact location where they began to sleep on Day 009, but they will find themselves covered in a layer of dust just as thick as that which had covered much of Mathias. The dust does not extend to their surroundings.

The memories of what they encountered or saw remain clear in their minds, no matter how impossible they might seem. Sights, sounds, smells, all may be recalled with crystalline clarity, even if they wish it were otherwise.

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Time feels equally immense and short here. It can any other time, any other place, but the lack of something more definitive, of others than themselves, it leaves questions. It creates a time that feels strange and wrong, much like the place itself. Kidnapping once to arrive was one thing, but this is something else. She isn't sure what it might be.

Jill is to her feet with a taut, eroded smile. The kind that's seen too many moments of forced sincerity and is drying up.

"Take it you didn't fall asleep here, either." She comments lightly, with a soft cadence that suggests a joke despite what could be going on here. She won't say it aloud, but it feels like they're in the den of some beast, waiting to be devoured.

Jill doesn't check for injuries only because she feels solid and without any aches, new or old. She moves beside him and since he seems to be taking point she'll play second unless it seems integral. For now, she shifts beside him.

"Do you know where we are?" Outside the town. But that's not a good enough answer for her. She suspects he doesn't know and they should get it out of the way fast. "Jill Valentine. Sorry about grabbing you when you woke me. Reflexes."

“No ma’am.” He was at the house that once belonged to the family known as ’Hirano’, an exotic name for him where and when he comes from.

“This happened more often when I was drinking every night.” That too is a poor, halfhearted attempt at a joke. One of the merits, or perhaps downsides, of being the proprietor of the local watering hole. Can’t let those leftovers go to waste and no point taking up storage space for almost empty bottles...

“No apology needed ma’am. John Henry, or just Henry.” He turns towards her then and brings two fingers up to tip his hat with a good natured smile that must seem out of place in a foreboding den. “Wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” But here they are.

“I know very little about this place, I’m afraid. And it seems the more I find out, the more questions I have.” Which is not to say that he doesn’t want to find anything out, but. He is wary about every answer he gets. He doesn’t even know if following the light source is going to be a good idea, or what awaits them once they do find it.

"Jill." She repeats, insisting on avoiding another 'ma'am' or 'miss' if she can help it. She supposes the familiarity may be uncomfortable for some.

"Ha, well, sounds like some bullshit to me." The situation, naturally. At least he seemed to know himself well enough whether it was his own actions that took him here or not. A joke helped, too. People like that usually didn't lose their heads too quickly, which Jill was thankful for. She's not the best at soothing others and wasn't looking forward to the possibility of needing to talk him to a point of comfort.

"Steel-drivin' man, huh." She comments, wondering if he's even from a place where that name might hold meaning. It might've just sounded strange and gone over his head for all she knows. In response to his greeting she tilts her head, canting it. "Usually my luck to be something like this. Should remain cautious."

A suggestion, though she's curious about her surroundings. She wants to investigate, but there's that pull at her stomach again. The one that tells her it's a lion's den rather than something random. Regardless it had to mean something, even if the meaning was just to keep them away from where they'd set their heads previously for a little while.

"Well, we're both in the same busted-up boat in that case." She knocks his arm as she settles beside him in step. A light tap of the knuckles; not a punch. "Don't got a lot of options, do we? Just stick together and we'll be alright."

She says it in a way that's authoritative and certain, despite her own uncertainty. The light doesn't seem to be stretching grander or thinner so far. Only the same.

Ask him again in a few hours. He probably won’t be taking the dark and wet as well as he’s currently dealing with it. Hopefully they’ll be on first name basis before then.

“Different John Henry. Never saw that fellow when they were building the railroad.” Doc cracks a smile as he finds some immeasurable comfort in having company. She might not be a familiar face but he’s finding his footing quickly around her, and it helps that she seems to be confidently taking all this in her stride. Even if they might both just be wearing their best Sunday dress with their poker faces firmly affixed.

When there’s a little more light, he tries to get a better look at his surroundings. Maybe there’s something noteworthy on the walls? He’s also on the lookout for any signs of other life. Maybe claw marks, scratches, shed skin, carcasses or anything else beyond water and rocks.

“Do you see anything peculiar?” he asks with his head half turned over his shoulder. Apart from the 166 year old cowboy-looking not-steel-driving man, of course.

There are no signs of life to be seen along the way, just stone that is both jagged and worn smooth in various places. The light that guides them is still low, moving them further and further through this cavelike tunnel, and slowly it begins to brighten ever so slightly. It might be the soft grey of daylight often seen in stormy coastal towns, but there is no indication that they are nearing any entrance.

But then, propped against the wall amidst a cluster of smooth stones and a shallow pool of water, they will find a large round mirror, worn and marked by time with spots dotting a meaningless pattern around the edges. The light is brighter here, and if they investigate, they will find that the mirror is reflecting light from further down the tunnel. Turning the mirror too much in any direction will break that beam of light and send the way they've come into darkness.

In a few hours, Jill is hoping to be warm and dry, like a bone picked apart by vultures in a desert. Ideally, in front of a fireplace and rethinking escape by boat -- none so far, anyway. It makes her rethink the possibility of building one, though.

She looks to her companion and somehow, the rise of her eyebrows can be heard in her voice if he can't see it on her face in the darkness. "Well, sounds familiar, at least. Midwest; settled in Canada, but was in Africa for work."

She'd have to get the story she was telling people straight, otherwise she might break trust. She's not ready to be clear-cut on it, with or without the more harrowing details. "Prisoner of war" might have to do for the moment, even if it will come with its own questions.

Jill touches the wall with fingertips as she goes, using it as another guiding post beyond the light ahead of them. Is this cave(?) on decline? It's awfully low, so she can't imagine it's a lighthouse... but it's bright enough to reach them without an end in sight. It had to be strong in that case. She means to chirp a little joke when he inquires about seeing anything, but something does catch her eyes. First, the glow of reflection on still water, then the outline of the mirror. Her eyes adjust to the dark better than most and even then, it's... conveniently better lit. Closer to an exit even if they couldn't find one? She doesn't know.

Jill, rather than say something, gently pulls at her companion's arm and gestures both with the lift of her head and the elbow of her other arm at the set-up.

"Looks like a ritual or something might have happened here. Either that or some hermit cares more about their appearance than anything else." No sign of bedding, food, or any other keepsakes. 'Ritual' feels crude, but it's the only thing she can describe what she's seeing as.

She parts from him to crouch and squat (no kneeling, it's easier to pop up and run for her like this) beside the scattered rocks, fingers trickling over them looking for any indentation or writing. They're smooth. Like seaglass.

He's better with actual direction rather than trying to read nods and head jerks in the dark, anyway. She gets his attention almost instantly and he turns towards the light, following her to the mirror.

Catching a glimpse of their reflections, he notes the week and a half year old stubble growing on his face and telltale signs of weariness creeping into the lines of their dimly lit faces. His eyes dart around the edge of the mirror and then he slips a finger behind it. Maybe there's something on the back. Even a sticker or barcode from a store would tell them something.

He gingerly tilts the mirror away from where it is propped and sticks his head against the wall to try and get a look. But once the mirror is tilting too far down he accidentally switches the light off further down the tunnel, and he quickly moves the mirror back into place.

At least he didn't break it.

"Maybe it's just mood lighting." There aren't any rats, bones, candles, salt, or whatever else Doc has been led to believe is required for rituals. No foul smell of rotting anything that might indicate anything been sacrificed or that anyone might even be living here.

"Shall we?" Keep going, that is. He's already starting towards the light. The fact that the mirror is shining light back the way they came from suggests to him they were headed in the right direction, towards the light source. Hopefully that's an exit and not a bonfire in the heart of the cave system.

The glint of herself in the mirror is strange and wrong, warped. It's the blonde hair that gets to her, distorts herself in the woman who looks back at her. Pale as a sliver of moonlight, made all the more frigid by her hair, devoid of the rich brown she's used to. The contrast is stark to her. She doesn't like it. It might be the eeriness of the location that makes it worse and sinks it's fangs into her flesh.

She watches him fiddle with it, keeping her personal struggle to herself. It takes her a moment to notice the shift of light. Something would have to reflect off of it, but why and how did it go in their path? And what light source was it tapping into.

"Maybe it's suspicious as hell." To Jill, the idea of a ritual simply comes from the stack of rocks and the mirror itself. It's too strange -- much like the town itself. "One minute. Stay with me just a bit longer."

Jill lifts the mirror, to see if it'll change anything if she heads the direction the light first appeared in with it. She figures the mirror will either curse her or be a clue and it feels wrong to leave it, but she's not sure if it'll change anything. She takes a few steps around with it.

"What is it reflecting off of?" Finally, she asks it to him with a puzzled expression. "If we could get it in the light, might be something behind the reflective surface. Or behind it. But I think I'd have to break it to do that."

And she'd be the one to get seven years bad luck.

He likes it here about as much as any man who became claustrophobic at the age of 14 and has spent a hundred and thirty years trapped at the bottom of a closed well likes it. Which is to say, he is completely unable to stand still. The seconds feel like hours and the constant trickle and splash of the drip, drip, drip taunts him. Fear makes for a cruel and possessive mistress and he paces, restless as the heartbeat pounding in his ribcage.

"Let's not break it." He wouldn't call himself superstitious, but he is a gambling man, and all gambling men (and women) believe in luck. He'd rather not tempt anything that does not need to be tempted. Not to mention, he doesn't have the pilfered first aid kits on him if one or both of them cut themselves on any broken shards.

"I am happy to take it with us." But he wants to get going. Now.

She would be understanding if she knew, but to her it looks like impatience. That he's scared of the dark or simply looking to move on. The tunnel was seemingly empty otherwise and this place was littered with riddles just waiting to be solved.

For now, he can wait.

"Alright." She says simply, wiping her fingers over it. She tries to do the nail trick, see if there's a camera inside of it -- two way wouldn't matter when it's not attached to a wall, but if it's not intended to be just a mirror it's another way to maybe give them a hint of it. "Maybe it'll be easier to examine outside. The stones around it, though... do you think something might be buried there? An animal maybe."

Jill feels the rock and soil beneath her, though the gloves prevent her from getting a real understanding about it. She can only guess, but the path back here should be available later and maybe they could come with lantern or flashlight? She shouldn't be so selfish.

"Ahead of us. Didn't you notice?" Jill stands before him shows the difference in the lighting of their path and wonders if it's a trick of the light, something about the cave. "Where the hell is the light coming from? What is it reflecting off of, John Henry?"

Saying his name feels a bit weird. Maybe he'd let her call him 'Hank'. Hm.

Yeah, no, Doc isn't going to start talking about his trauma and pour his heart out to some lady in a dark, wet cave while she's trying to figure out something about the mirror that he's not familiar with. He's already not entirely sure if she's real or if he's having some kind of mental break. It's not like he could stay completely sane after being tormented by sheer neglect in solitary confinement all that time.

"Just Henry's fine. Or Hank if you like," he says curtly. The most curt he has ever been since they met. Hopefully understandable given their circumstances. Cracks are starting to show in his otherwise stoic, unflappable demeanour. He will apologise when he doesn't feel like he's slowly suffocating.

"Well it appears that the light is coming from the way we were headed, whatever is causing it. Makes little sense to go back the way we came, if you ask me. Maybe things could be simple for once and an exit will appear before us if we go poking around up there."

You know what they say: up shit creek without a paddle, friend.

Jill is still uncertain if this is all real in general. She could be in a hospital somewhere, deep in a coma. It makes more sense than alternate worlds and being stuck in New England after being in Africa. Head trauma seems like better reasoning than reality, but Jill still is going to operate like it's real. What other options are there but to carry on? And, dream or not, why not make that path a little easier to traverse?

"Hank, then. Unless I find something better." Giving the go-ahead, she softens. Less clinical and more buddy-buddy, more personable than just acting on a goal and curiosities. If he's not nervous, he simply seems eager to move on and the best way to coax someone into doing as you'd like is kindness, she's pretty sure.

"I'm alright with that if you are. I don't want to just grab it and run if it might affect you." And she's used to puzzles where you make one wrong move you might have a ceiling of spikes lowering down on you while you attempt to escape from an exit that wasn't previously blocked off from you. Maybe that's just life in a nutshell, though. She hoists the mirror still, facing it away from her like it might lead the way or change things. "So, just head down the same path and if things seem messy, we'll just bring it back?"

Jill looks up to him when she comes nearer, holding out a gloved hand. It's a gesture of camaraderie and to some degree, trust. "Agreed?"

"I can keep up," he insists even though she might not have been implying otherwise. "Would much prefer if we ran for it, if I'm honest, but we might miss sommin' if we just high tail it that way." She seemed quite interested in investigating, and hell, maybe there's some merit to figuring out what all the little details add up to. It's just that-... it's been a little over a week of all the little details adding up to nothing so far, so his patience about what's happening to them in general might be starting to wear thin.

"Yes m- Jill." He manages to stop himself this time, reaching out to take her hand and lift it slightly, turning the backs of her fingers towards him instead of the traditional handshake he might reserve for other gentlemen.

"And I can take that if you like." Wouldn't be proper not to at least offer to carry the mirror. But she seems keen on turning it one way and the other. He would more likely end up being the glorified bag carrier husband standing cluelessly outside the store holding the big round shiny thing like a mannequin.

His anxiety is somewhat alleviated when they have decided on moving so he starts that way, towards the light, taking small steps backwards at first while facing her in case she does decide to unload the mirror onto him.

"Well, we can always come back, can't we?" Unless there's some bullshit that'll block them off. Jill doesn't know if the entrance will be blocked off or hell, even if it will be a way out when they reach it. The way that the light is up there almost feels hypnotic and confusing, like a lure. Maybe it's just her thought process that's making it so twisted to her.

Jill isn't quite offended by the gesture, but she's quick to swap into something more militaristic; fingers splaying over palm, then wrist, clasping part of his arm with her hold. There's no shake to it and it's quick.

"I'm short, but I'm not weak. I can deadlift over eight hundred pounds." It's cumbersome because of the size and shape for her, but it's not something she needs help with. Jill gives his arm a friendly knock as she carries on.

Attempting to remain in step with him in case shit hits the fan, she's careful but not slow. Her eyes try to scan through the darkness for anything that looks out of place, regardless of what it may be.

"So, Hank," She peers at him, making out features past the weight of shadows. "Don't find a lot of gents like you these days. If you don't mind me askin', what is it you do? I'm an anti-bioterrorism special ops agent."

She lost him at anti something something agent, honestly, but at least he understands 'agent'. He's been working closely in one such team after all, even though he wouldn't personally affiliate himself with anyone other than the Earps.

Doc Holliday is many things. Gunslinger, demon hunter, poker player, dentist, most recently a father. He opts to say none of those things.

"I have done a few things, dabbled here and there, but I am currently the owner and proprietor of a saloon, in a small town where... peculiar things happen." Not very much unlike Mathias, come to think of it.

"What is this bio... anti... special terror agent?" Hopefully not in that order. "Do you investigate peculiar occurrences too?"

His steps slow as they turn a bit and approach the light source, and Doc finds himself unconsciously stepping in front of her a bit as if she needs protecting even though between the two of them he's more likely the one to need his hand held. He's not sure what they will find up ahead.

It's one of those things Jill doesn't know how to describe to someone else, really. Especially if they were from different times and places as has been suggested by others that she's met. She's never had to do it before now. She also doesn't want to assume someone doesn't know so it's better to start from name and go from there, especially considering someone may not be that interested.

"Yeah? Like old west shoot-em-up saloon or are we talkin' more like a tourist trap?" Or maybe it's just his vernacular. It doesn't occur to her yet he may come from somewhere lacking the same modern atmosphere that her world has.

"Sometimes," she starts, messing around with the mirror, even though it seems to have changed its course. She hopes it's not some kind of maze where they'll need to find the light and follow it by way of the mirror. The incline they're on suggests to her it's the path out -- she hopes, anyway. "It might sound hard to believe, but I guess the best way to describe what I do is I investigate, mitigate, prevent, and combat creatures created by science -- and the occasional creator behind them. Monsters, really. Back in my twenties it was all fiction, but..." She trails off, feeling the wall with her fingers. Still gloved, it's hard to say how wet or not it might be.

"I mean, let's be honest here. Anyone can say anything they want and there's no way we can truly back it up, right? We're in a hell of a situation here." Jill doesn't quite notice his shift in movement and assumes the nearness is just for the safety of both of them. Better in groups than apart, no matter what cartoons may choose as the right option. "The light never seems to get brighter."

That's the subject she chooses to change to, though it's true. It feels like they haven't gotten any nearer to it so far. Maybe it's just another trick of the town?

"There are no tourists there. Only locals needing a place to drink." It's not really the kind of town for tourists or even for people to be driving through really. And that's probably for the better.

"I believe you. There are... most unnatural things, happening in this world." Well, not this world in particular. There might be some anomalies here and there and more questions than they have about this dark and wet place, but so far nothing has jumped out of the shadows or the fog and tried to kill them yet. It is a small but no less significant comfort.

"Let's hurry along then. Nothing to see around here, anyway." He picks up the pace a bit, but mindful of her having to manoeuvre with that bulky mirror and the floor being wet, potentially slippery. He is keen to ascend or descend or turn or go wherever the path leads even if the promise of an exit is tenuous at best, as long as they're going towards the light.

"I don't much like the feel of this place," he offers up as if that explains his desire to make haste.

"I see. That must be a rewarding place to have. Never stay in one place long enough with my work to be a 'local' anything, so I'm sort of envious." She laughs, more at her attempt to relate than anything. He doesn't need to know that's why, however.

"For me, it's... science. But here, I don't know. I have a hard time accepting something like 'magic,' but I'm either in a coma or this place is really playing tricks on me in ways that it probably wouldn't be able to where I'm from." She admits for the first time, almost but not quite, that magic or the idea of it unnerves her. "I want to combat what's become part of our ecosystem so the next generation won't have to. If I'm able."

It's part of the ecosystem, though, just as she says. That means you can mitigate but you can't completely remove it. It's hard for Jill to accept, but it also means she can combat it all the more efficiently.

"So far." She quickly comments, not able to fully dismiss that they may miss something. If there is something around, it's bound to take some investigating to get to. He's right about them carrying on, although she's equally as eager to dig into a mystery and solve it.

"Sorry. Hadn't meant to bother you." With her lingering, she means. They had options and perhaps it was better to actually listen to the growing dread in her body, spiraling corkscrew from throat to stomach.

Jill keeps her stride quicker and less languid. Hoping for the best.

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010 » something wicked this way comes

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