010 » something wicked this way comes

[villagemod]

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.

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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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Comments

[fika]

The hell...( five doesn't immediately appreciate the safety of the trees until he's in the clearing, the drift of snow lifting up and around him, cold pinpricks on his face.

but he catches them. the distinct curves of graves. he stiffens, but moves towards them, a moth to the flame.

clues, maybe. it's something, at least. because a graveyard is something. is it the townships?

maybe dates? maybe -

he approaches the nearest one to him, crouching to read the headstone. )

[villagemod]

There are no dates on this headstone, nor any name that can be seen on the top half that is uncovered by snow. There is an engraving though, worn away but still mostly visible. A curved half-circle facing downward, a line coming down from it that hooks at the very end.

[fika]

For a moment, his world stops.

He has spent his entire childhood staring at the same sign everywhere he turned. Then the rest of his years, through apocalypses and contracts alike, driven into his skin like a brand. Even now, with his hand hovering over it, fingers tracing the curves, sleeve ridden up enough to show the start of his tattoo.

His breath sputters in his throat, eyes widen, and the moment of being frozen is over, as he frantically starts clearing away the snow at its foot.

Five doesn't feel the cold, right now.

But, he does feel fear, as he glances up to count the graves. As he looks down, to see if his worst failures are staring back.

[villagemod]

There are twelve stones in the clearing, an even dozen markers crouching ominously amongst the clean white snow. Five does not find a name as he uncovers the rest of this particular marker, but below that worn umbrella is a set of hash marks crudely carved into the stone, showing six marks.

[fika]

Six marks.

He scowls, hands red from digging at the snow, the sting slowly setting in.

Six marks, and what more can his brain do than count off the names, the clues just enough to make him think the worst of it all.

Luther. Diego. Allison. Klaus. Ben. Vanya.

He blinks to the next headstone he sees, and will go through the rest if he has to.

Patterns, clues - he needs those. Anything but the glaring conclusion he can't admit himself to jumping to.

[villagemod]

With each headstone, Five will find more carvings. All six clustered together here have the same umbrella symbol and hash mark carvings, but in different amounts.

2 umbrellas = 8 hash marks
3 umbrellas = 3 hash marks
4 umbrellas = 5 hash marks
6 umbrellas = 2 hash marks
7 umbrellas = 2 hash marks

[fika]

There is a momentary temptation to start digging. His hands have gone entirely numb from brushing all the snow away. His nose is running, his breathing hadn't slowed.

The cold air constricts his throat, icy inhales into overexerted lungs.

Two. Three. Four, Six, Seven.

No Five. Because he's here. This can't be right, this can't be what it is.

(Failure, a voice in the back of his mind offers him, vicious and familiar. I told you so.)

Eight, three, five, two, two. It doesn't mean anything to him, other than the tumble of questions. Who made the marks? Who made the headstones? He picks one at random - Four Klaus - drops his knees into the snow, and starts clearing it further away, down to the frozen ground.

He doesn't know what the hell he's trying to find, and panic rings loud in his ears.

[villagemod]

There is nothing to find but dead leaves and dying grass.

The wind whistles especially loud suddenly, whipping past the next headstone closest to those he's uncovered, moving a tuft of snow and unveiling another curved carving still half-hidden by frozen white. If he notices it at all, of course.

[fika]

The wind's sharp howl snaps his head up, away from a task that's fruitless, just an outlet for restlessness, all bent and sharp angles. If he keeps moving, if he keeps doing something, he can ignore the elements all that much longer.

As his head whips up, caught in that sudden sound amidst the white wisps, his eyes catch the curving of the headstone, half buried.

Might as well check, he reasons, tireless in only his bulldog tenacity. He jumps to it, a blink in spacetime, and gets to clearing, once again.

[villagemod]

What he finds: 5 umbrellas, 16 hash marks.

[fika]

What.

He finds himself on his feet, staring at the marks. At the count of umbrellas. Five. He counts them all again, standing in the clearing with his hands by his side.

All seven now accounted for.

There had to be an explanation for this. Maybe he was dreaming? His subconscious bleeding out? It felt real though, down to the tingling in his hands, numb cold flowing into that stinging pain.

So he stares and stares and stares, instead, jaw working, and with a cold sort of detachment, finally moves to see the remaining five stones.

[villagemod]

The remaining stones do not hold carvings of umbrellas. What he will find if he looks at all of the stones:

a set of short vertical lines both thick and thin — 5 hash marks
a flower shape with long thin petals — 12 hash marks
a five-pointed star inside a circle — 3 hash marks
a small bird — 4 hash marks
a cross shape with even length arms and three prongs at the end of each — 10 hash marks

[fika]

Idly, he wishes there was a piece of paper with him - but there isn't. So he resolves to commit it all to memory.

The anger is there, burning right under his skin.

Not all the symbols inspire association - the flower is a daisy, maybe. The pentagram could be whatever bullshit Claire had told him about demons and ghosts - though that could be John, and Henry, too and Five isn't quite sure why he even thinks of them.

Last time he'd checked, they were alive.

Last time he'd checked, his family was too. And that's the disquieting part that makes his stomach uneasy.

Truthfully, he isn't sure what else to think, thoughts spinning fast enough into silence, but he gravitates back to the row of six, and crouches down. His knuckles are red from the snow, and he must've slices one open from digging away with numb hands.

"The hell happened to you, guys?" Let it be clear that this isn't a question of acceptance.

[villagemod]

There is no answer, only the whistle of the wind through the trees. He'll have a few more minutes with his thoughts and these mysterious gravestones, and then the next thing he knows, he'll be waking where he went to sleep, covered in a layer of dust and with his skin still smarting from the cold.