villagelogs | 012-014 » even the air itself was grey

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012-014 » even the air itself was grey

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias.
WHEN: Days 012-014
WHAT: The weather is behaving strangely. Again.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Michael Andrews "Liquid Spear Waltz"

DAYS 012-014
“The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usual, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes.”
—Simona Panova, “Nightmarish Sacrifice”

Rain has returned to Mathias. While those who remember the storms from nearly two weeks ago may fear reprisal of such tumultuous weather, this rain is far tamer. The cloudy grey skies let loose a steady drizzle that remains constant from start to finish, which is in itself, perhaps, a bit unusual. The patter of droplets against windows, small streams forming in the roads and on grass as the ground becomes saturated, all of it may seem normal to some, but a little too normal to others.

What is without question abnormal, however, is the sun. Though it cannot be seen distinctly behind the thick grey clouds, its light remains as constant as the rain throughout these three days. Hour after hour, regardless of the time of day, there is light in the sky. Unchanging, an inescapable reminder that Mathias is not home, and none who are brought here have any control over what will occur in this place.

NEW ARRIVALS
Once again, more unfortunate souls have been brought to Mathias by unknown means, deposited at the edge of the forest near the empty houses that tell of those who once lived in this strange little town. They may find themselves wandering through the trees until they encounter the strange fog that envelops the town, or stumbling upon the rotting remains of houses that have felt the passage of time more than others.

LOCATIONS
LIGHTHOUSE Residents will notice the lighthouse to the north of Mathias, situated on a cliff that is above the town level. Even the most observant individuals will not have noticed it before now, which might be quite unsettling to some. There is no path available to reach the lighthouse at this time, though residents are welcome to try — they will be blocked by fog in the forest and a sense of unease that becomes debilitating if they walk too far along the beach.

NO NEW LOCATIONS are available for exploration at this time. Residents are welcome to further explore available locations, including utilizing AP rewards at locations they may have previously explored.

CONDITIONS UPDATES

— CLOCKS continue to be unreliable. Some may keep irregular time at different rates, while others have ceased to work at all, each having stopped at a different time.

— VOICES are not openly haunting our residents, though they may still be occasionally encountered in the more heavily decayed buildings where some rooms seem to almost swallow whatever light tries to enter them.

— WEATHER conditions are both typical and atypical for late fall. Temperatures consist of chilly "sweater weather" days and nights that can dip below freezing — you don't want to be outside without a coat when the sun goes down. A constant light rain continues for all three days, only stopping on the night of the third day. And for all three days, there is constant cloudy grey sunlight, with the sun unable to be seen and tracked from behind the cloud cover. Darkness will return to Mathias on the third night when the rain stops.

— FOG continues to block the way of those wishing to travel further than the Town Hall, and all who venture into the forest will be met by its impenetrable wall after a few hundred yards. The fog will allow none to pass; those who try will find themselves overcome by fear and panic so intense, they can physically do nothing but flee back the way they came.

OOC UPDATES

— HOUSING LISTINGS now have a permanent home! A few of these may have been missed or information might have changed, so please do submit updates as needed, including if your character moves into a new location or if there are rooms still available at said location.

— NEW PLAYERS are still arriving with each new log, so make sure to keep an eye on our ooc intro post. (An easy way to do this is to track the post — click the bell icon, select More Options, and track when someone makes a new top-level.)

— INFORMATION may publicly be shared between characters at the bulletin board in the town hall. This is meant to be a permanent place for pieces of the Mathias puzzle to be shared and archived to both help information be shared ICly and to allow new players to easily dive into the mystery.

— THE CALENDAR has been updated through the end of the year. With the approaching holiday season, we will continue a lighter log schedule, but as always, players are welcome to create their own logs, conduct intensive investigators, and make more terrible decisions. (The mod is always happy to enable these shenanigans, never hesitate to reach out with ideas.)

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE LOG?

HOUSING DESIGN/EXPLORATION

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The rain doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Hell, it's soothing if he's honest. Do you know how long it's been since he's had a goddamn shower?

... Well, not long since he found old Rick and co., but that's beside the point. He'll take a nice dose of water where he can get it, even in freaky deaky Creepsville or whatever the fuck this is. He shifts his weight a bit as he eyes the rows of empty houses. Strangely, that's not the unnerving bit. He's used to seeing dilapidated buildings and looted homes. It's the goddamn apocalypse.

"Well, give me a dog and call me Dorothy because I am a hell of a long way from home." There's no reason to be talking right now, no one seems to be around, but fuck if it doesn't soothe his nerves somewhat. Eventually, he approaches some of those empty homes, peering in through a window thoughtfully.

"Anybody home? Hello?" He draws the last out in a sing-song voice, even if he fully expects nothing.

What he needs, ASAP, is a fucking weapon. What, he can get dropped off, but he can't have fucking Lucille with him?

Ellie and Rey are still staying in the house Ellie had found the first night. While Ellie is pretty adaptable as a rule, she hasn't found any reason to move her base anywhere else. It's not like anywhere else is fucking better, after all. House is a house. She doesn't mind sharing with Rey.

She's not entirely sure what day it is when Negan shows up outside. She has no idea if he's new new or just someone she hasn't met yet. But she's in the kitchen eating dry cereal out of the box because of the weird fucking novelty of that. It's really just luck that she hears him.

She sets her cereal box on the counter and goes to the door, though doesn't open it yet.

"Depends who's asking," she calls back, maybe still with her mouth half-full.

Oh, well. He hadn't been sure he'd actually get a response. He holds up his hands to show he's not armed, he's not meaning anything. He's not dumb enough to think he's got an edge here yet and he's not gonna get himself killed. He had no idea if whoever's talking is peeping at him through the door, but he figures it's a strong possibility.

"Jesus, I'm not a debt collector or whatever the fuck. Name's Negan. I just got here and I'm kinda lost, that's all."

Claire is on... well. The equivalent of a patrol. Even if perhaps it's more in the hopes of letting the rain wash away her hangover, long blonde hair long drenched, though the leather jacket at least keeps her from soaking through to the bone. Damn Moonshine. She's... armed, but only in the improvised way of things. Her poor man's baseball bat is a broken off chair leg she carries in one hand. There's a dull kitchen knife in her boot, and a firepoker sticking out of her backpack.

The voice catches her attention, and she purses her lips.

Lots of strangers lately.

Screw this place.

"I don't know that I can see you pull the dress or the slippers, but this sure isn't Kansas."

"Whoa--" He follows the voice to the girl, his eyes scanning her. Jury's out on whether the kid's an actual threat, but it doesn't stop him from flashing a friendly enough grin.

"Don't you just look bad ass." He shrugs his shoulders. "And I can't argue that. Never had the legs for a skirt."

He gestures around them. "What the shit kinda place is this?"

"Not just looking it."

She smirks, cocky but not in the way of someone over-compensating. Her entire stance seems relaxed, but guarded - not someone fearing trouble, but someone prepared for it - and someone confident enough she can handle what blows her way.

"Mathias Township. Just your average little shit hole with outdoted tech and a vanished population. The occasional stretch of night without daylight, and vice versa. The occasional storm that puts a primal fear into your bones. You know... the usual, really, for suburbs. You got a name, newcomer?"

"Well, excuse the hell outta me, Ms. Badass." Kid looks like she can carry herself and he's not about to give her shit over that. Creepy as this place looks? He's gonna assume that's a quality one needs.

He lets out a laugh. "Well, sounds like the best little place to be. Does this place by any chance have running water at the very least?"

He might be genuinely interested in a proper fucking shower after all. "Name's Negan. How about you?"

"On occasion."

When the storm doesn't knock shit out, when the town doesn't get weird - weirder than before.

"Let's say I'd not trust in any amenities functioning without hiccups. Name's Claire, though I'll take Ms. Badass, too - I won't say 'nice to meet you', because well. I mean, this isn't exactly a great place by many measures of 'great'."

Edited 2020-11-30 04:42 (UTC)

"I like Ms. Badass, myself." There's a friendly grin flashed her way before his attention is drawn around them.

"So, what kinda place is this? Just want to know how to watch my own ass while I'm here, you know."

Well, new day, new beginning and all that fucking nonsense. Now that he actually feels like he's got a bit of appetite, Negan heads to the General Store to see what they got. Some might complain, but--

"Holy crap, you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen a fucking candy bar that doesn't taste like ass?" Or soda that isn't flat or-- hell anything they got in this shithole. Expect to find him indulging in whatever he can get his hands on.

Later that day, he might go and check out the Old Toy Shoppe out of a morbid sense of curiosity. He'll not like that freaky crap one bit. Does anybody like fucking puppets though, really? He might be poking around, hoping to find a bat, even if it's probably hopeless.

And even later that day? When shit starts feeling creepy? He's back out wandering around, eyeing the forest, trying to decide what the hell to do with himself. No men to lead, no people he actually knows, but shit... he can't just curl up and sleep. His head's buzzing too much for that shit.

John has every intention of heading to the beach today. Nothing is going to stop him from throwing some rocks - or something else - at the sea. He's rather peeved that whatever is out there in the dark didn't bother to answer him when he yelled at it in that dream or whatever it was.

Though, he is stopping at the store to grab another pack of cigarettes. He's got no plan of stopping his addictions this day or any day.

He pauses at the entrance at the exclamation. Another new person -- or they probably have been here for some time and he hasn't met them. John presses his lips together, rolls his eyes, and heads straight to the cigarette case. Bloody knock off American brands. He misses his Silk Cuts.

"You won't know if it doesn't taste like ass until you try it." He points out, gesturing to the rack the man is looking at. "Have one for me too, yeah?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I'm having as many as I can stand." Coming straight from an apocalypse, it's not bad to indulge a little, right? Scarcity is a thing even The Saviors have known a time or two.

He eyes the other guy for a minute though, thoughtful. "So, what do we have here anyway? You some kinda detective? Door to door salesman?"

He snaps his fingers and points. "Mormon?"

Look, there are only so many things a guy who dresses like that could do.

There is a shrug at that. Chocolate is nice and all, but, he doesn't plan on eating like it's going out of style. Then again, he has no real idea when the food is going to stop replenishing itself. Or if it ever will. They're just taking what they can get.

The thought has crossed his mind if they're bound to this place now that they've indulged in the bit of the fruits of the land.

"Occult detective, actually. With a few other tricks up my sleeve. The trench coat is just because it's bloody cold in London." John gestures to the blue shirt underneath the tie. "I'm not the sort of man God would want out there prattling on about a religion or four."

Having that guardian angel Manny flap around is annoying enough.

"I suppose that means you're some sort of biker." John nods to the attire. "Seen plenty of people dressed like that down in the Southern states."

He'll start conserving soon. You never know when shit will run out, when shit will go bad. He's not planning on dying of fucking starvation of all things... not when this place seems like it'll have so much other creepy shit to deal with.

"What the shit is that? Does that mean you go around-- investigating ghosts or something? Like those douchebags on TV." Back when TV was a thing.

He snorts as he continues on. "That's good. That's real fucking good. Not in it for the God talk, myself."

There's a laugh at the biker comment and he looks down at himself. Fair enough assessment, but-- "I was a teacher. Gym."

Before the world went to absolute shit. "Spent my time shaping up kids, if you can believe it."

"More like solve mysteries with a bit of paranormal attached to it. As well as the occasional exorcism." He has no issue sharing that information. Most people know it, and he has a contact card at the Town House. So, really, his skill sets aren't a secret.

John knows there's always an element of God, or the Devil, and other hosts of magical deities. He's convinced one is in charge of the place himself. That though he won't share just yet. Not until he feels a conversation needs to.

"Gym teacher with a flare of the bike loving?" He raises his eyebrows with a cheeky grin. "It'll do you well. It gets bloody cold here."

"Huh, well..." That is a bunch of shit he's never heard outside of shit TV shows, but color him intrigued.

"Is there a call for that around here?" Just his luck he'd get away from zombies and get tossed in the thick of spirits or whatever.

"Hey, you'd be surprised. The kids always thought I was damn pretty cool. Their parents-- well, fucking uptight pricks, the lot of them."

"There is back home. Here? Well, we'll see. I'm partial to think that there's a something here. Though, some people think its Hell." John shakes his head. It's not Hell, because he knows Hell. "Some think it might be an abandoned movie set that we just happened to stroll past. Maybe we're on the television!"

He snorts at the idea and pockets a few more packs of cigarettes. He's been smoking a bit more since his fight with Zed. Not that many people can tell that.

"Most parents are. Most parents also think they're doin' right by their kids." He turns to lean against one of the shelves, pushing a can or two of chili to the side with his elbow. "Then you get the parents that just really never should of bred."

"It'd be a boring as shit Hell, I think. No big guy with horns, no pitchforks... I mean, come on." He has no doubt in his mind he'll be in Hell when all is said and done, but this ain't it. Probably.

"What, like some sort of extremely fucked up Truman Show?" Interesting theory, really. One he's not heard tossed around yet.

"Yeah, well... less of those where I come from. Less of the good ones too." Less of anybody, but he's trying to keep the ones around him alive.

"Sounds like you might have some experience."

John shrugs. "Hell is more about being personal. Your own torment depending on what landed you there. Sure, maybe you share the scenery with people, but, it's a bit more personal."

Spoken as if he knows first hand.

"Not much of a fan of television myself, so, I'd rule that out first." A smirk touches his face as he reaches into his coat to grab a cigarette. "Had a father and an older sister. Father was a useless git, if you really want to know."

Edited 2020-11-18 07:06 (UTC)

There's a lingering look at that explanation, studying the man. He'd think he was a complete lunatic if he hadn't been whisked away to some... whatever the hell this is. "Well, I'll take your word on that one."

To him, Hell is the life he'd been living at home, surrounded by the dead and just trying to keep people alive, but no reason to get fucking depressing or anything.

he gives a nod at that. Not a surprise. "Some of them can be. But what about your sister? What's she like?"

"More people should take my word. Too many people here haven't got an idea or care about the bigger world." John figures the other man falls into that camp. You can only do so much, Johnny.

John huffed slightly. "With a dead beat bastard and a daughter. Haven't talked to her much in the last years. Figured she was better off without me."

Given Cheryl had been the one that left him with their father. Oh, he'd go running at the first sign of trouble and if his sister ever called. She was family and at one point she loved him. Though, he wasn't sure Cheryl would love him now.

"What about your family? Anyone you've got waiting for you back home?"

"Isn't that the same everywhere? A lot of people lack a sight of the big fucking picture, or what else is lying out there. Too focused on themselves, I guess." It's why they die without proper leadership, without someone watching over them.

"Yeah? I don't know... you get stuck with a bastard like that, you might not be opposed to a little familial support." He's been that bastard after all, even if he wasn't a deadbeat.

"Me? Nah... had a wife, but she died a long time ago. Sometimes I'm grateful with what came next." But mostly, he'd give an arm and a leg and whatever's left of his fucking soul to see her again.

"I do have some people I need to get back to though. Hoping I can do that soon."

"Too focused on the idea of how they perceive reality and the world to be the right one. Humanity does good, sure, but, we're a right stubborn bunch that don't like admitting that we don't know it all." A pause. Well, let's not talk about how he falls into that camp more often or not.

There's a shrug, a press of his lips, and a look away. Cheryl doesn't need his shitstain of a live on top of the life she's gotten herself into. There's still hurt from her running away and leaving him with their father.

"Seems like I might be the one uprooted the least by all this. Mathias knows how to bloody pick 'em, eh?"

"It's how it is back home too... seen it come back and bite people right in the ass, time and again." How many lives could have been spared if people weren't stubborn fucks individually?

He'll let the subject change happen though, nodding along absently. "I don't suppose you know how we're drawn in? There's no rhyme or reason?"

012-014 » even the air itself was grey

Negan | The Walking Dead

Day 12 | OTA

lmk if this needs changing!

Nope, this is perfect!

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Day 14 | OTA

➝ general store.

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