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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Doc's head turns at the sound of toast popping and he gets up to go play fetch. A toaster is one of many benefits of being beamed into a modern time and well furnished place.

"I have yet to come across some rope, but. A big flat sheet should suffice." Doc returns and puts the toast down next to Raylan's coffee, sinking back into his chair with a sigh as he drags his own coffee closer.

"Unless of course, you brought your handcuffs with you Raylan?" Doc hides his snicker behind his lifted coffee mug.

"A sheet?" Raylan's face curled in amusement as he looked over to see what Malcolm thought of the idea. He nodded at the toast with a look towards Doc and a quiet 'Thank you' at the toast that he pulled up onto his plate with a smirk.

"Don't tend to keep those on me unless I've got a date," he joked. "I have tied a man or two up for work though. Once up a mountain so he'd stay put. Y'all know there isn't a jail here? No place to keep the drunks this town had to have had." He shook his head as he piled some eggs onto the corner of his toast and took a big bite.

"Maybe we just haven't seen that part of town yet," Malcolm offered. "At any rate, I reiterate: I need something I can put on myself and take off myself. No... tying me to the bed," he said, giving Doc a sidelong look. "I'll find something. After we find the house, I'll go find something."

He took a sip of coffee, then set his cup aside and took a small bite of eggs.

"Do you really think the fog will continue to push back?" he asked Raylan. It was a note of hope he vaguely recalled the Marshal offering the night before.

"What kind of work did you say you did again?" he jokes with Raylan as he sets his coffee mug down. Interesting that he has to qualify it with 'for work'. He doubts anyone sitting at this table would have cared if it wasn't.

Doc folds his arms and rests elbows and forearms on the table, hunching over and tilting his head as he considers. It's like a riddle, something that can be put on and taken off by oneself. He wonders what Malcolm would have used back home but he figures he's got far less problems there with his cornucopia of medication.

Taking something off himself should be fairly easy but putting it on is another matter. If all else fails though, he's definitely dying Malcolm down with an easy enough knot to pull and unravel.

"We could not venture much further than the restaurant and these houses before. I tried when the weather cleared up, spent my third night outside, couldn't get very far. We would've seen that lighthouse much earlier too. No point having one that cannot be seen. Maybe we ain't seen nothing yet." There could be a Grey Bar Motel somewhere not even too far from here. Hell there could even be a... modern place that sells medication? If they're lucky.

"No records of it in the Town hall, to match everything else this place is missing," he said before shoving a bite of food into his mouth and narrowing a playful look at Doc. Yes, he got the joke being made. No, he wasn't going to further grace it with his attention.

He nodded at Malcolm's question and glanced between the two men before stabbing another bite.

"What we saw from the lighthouse suggests there's more town. I plan on goin' out today or tomorrow and eyein' the treeline again. See if I can't find a path that leads back up to the lighthouse, but it'll be a walk. At least a mile. But this place has established it's pattern and I think it'll hold til we got all of the town to ourselves. For better or worse."

"I'll go with you," Malcolm said immediately. Wow. That sounded eager. "If you want," he added hastily, hiding behind his cup by taking a drink from it.

Could he even walk that far in his condition? Maybe it was a bad idea. What if Raylan had to carry him back? Had he not humiliated himself enough?

"Or maybe I shouldn't," he conceded, setting his cup down and looking at his eggs. "A mile is far." To carry a man.

That was a mightily quick turnaround from an eager puppy circling the shins to a dejected cat skulking away.

"Pfff. A mile is not far at all. It will only take you twenty minutes at the most. It is better for us to be sticking together in a place we do not know, especially if someone were to get hurt on their own." Were it anyone else, Doc might have joked that someone will be needing to hold Raylan's hand when he gets scared in the fog. With Malcolm though being skittish as he is, Doc eases back on the teasing.

"I plan to make a short trip to the library, but I will keep an eye on this place. You are both free to leave, if you wish."

Raylan glanced sidelong over at Malcolm at that reaction. Eager indeed. He didn't understand why. Maybe it was just the way Malcolm was. A little Manic in Everything. If he were a softer man, he mighta been swayed a little by how dejected Malcolm had suddenly become.

"Not til after we deal with the house," he said, returning his eyes to Doc.

"And to be perfectly honest with the both of ya, this splitting headache is gonna need some quiet and I need a walk." Thank you, but he'd be going by himself. "I grew up in hills, the forest here ain't got much to surprise me with."

Raylan cleared his plate and poured the rest of his coffee down his throat in one long drink before standing up and dropping his dishes off into the sink. "I'm gonna get dressed. We should get goin' in case this storm gets worse."

For the best. That was for the best. He had no doubts about Raylan's capabilities. He wasn't offering to go because he thought he needed help or protection.

He'd had maybe four bites of the eggs and what was still on the plate still looked like a HUGE portion to him and he didn't know what to do with it.

"I. Um. Will find my shoes...." He gestured useless at the eggs. "Does anyone want.... these?" he asked, looking between them. "I'm... don't take my coffee; I'm going to bring it," he said getting up, putting a hand over the top of the cup for emphasis.

Well Raylan's reaction was interesting. The look on Malcolm's face, even more so. Doc is saying absolutely nothing as he runs a finger over his moustache, gaze flitting from one to the other. He's nothing if not perceptive. But now is the neither the time nor place to be spouting off astute observations.

"Leave them. I will take care of it." Whether that involves shoving everything into the bin or not wasting it, he does not specify.

"Watch out for any glass now." Raylan did sweep up but sometimes there's one or two pesky pieces hiding between the floorboard still.

As Raylan clears out and Malcolm starts to wander off, Doc reaches over to grab the nearest bottle of moonshine. He unscrews the lid and dumps a healthy amount of it into his coffee while Malcolm has his back turned. He's got his own back turned to the bedroom doors but he can hear Raylan moving around so he doubts he's looking his way. That's coming with him to the porch, and he's going to have a smoke first before he cleans all this shit up. There's some stuff lying around that's not theirs, and Doc is going to the library to read up as much as he can about the concoction of medications Malcolm is on, so, if Malcolm is really itching for something to do, perhaps there are a few consolation prizes he can offer once they are resettled into their new place.

Raylan grunted a soft note of acknowledgement as he went out the door and into the bedroom, sinking onto the beds edge for a moment to hold his head in his hands. All he wanted to do was lay back down and go back to sleep, really. Why did he agree to any kind of working after a wake up like that?

Maybe the crazy was starting to infect him.

With a sigh, Raylan pulled on his socks and boots, following with the work shirt he arrived in, unbuttoned all the way down. Stopping in the bathroom long enough to take care of a few things and splash some water on his face, Raylan got his hat and stepped back out into the living room. He looked a little more put together, though the open shirt and the ribbed undershirt took his class down by several notches.

"Won't take us but maybe twenty, thirty minutes," he said to Doc as he stepped up out onto the porch. "I'll help with the cleanin' when I get back. Then you can help me move the chair, huh?"

As he heard Malcolm behind him, he turned around at the waist and stepped there rest of the way out of the doorframe.

"You ready?"

Malcolm nodded, picking up his coffee cup, clutching it close to his chest. He was still wearing the blood-stained jeans. He'd check the house they settle on for clothes that maybe fit better.

"I don't know if it helps," he told them, "but at home I use a custom set of restraints that borrow features from medical restraints and standard sex shop headboard restraints."

"No need to hurry back," Doc offers. He will not be rushing through this particular morning but he hopes to have the place mostly cleaned up by the time the two gentlemen return.

"If you two find a sex shop you will be needing plenty of time." Doc flashes Malcolm his most innocent grin, cocking an eyebrow and drinking his gasoline coffee.

"Why? This ain't the frontier or Hollywood," Raylan said with a scoff and a smirk, fully getting Doc's implication. He didn't know how they did things in the 1800's, but the state of Kentucky didn't much care what year it was.

He turned and headed off the porch, trusting that Malcolm would be following behind.

"There better not be any sex shops between us and these houses, otherwise I'm callin' bullshit on the liquor," he added, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I can take myself to town after," Malcolm told Raylan as they headed down the front walk. "See if there's anything suitable. Maybe a hardware store or. Something. I'll figure something out. I'll be okay. I've survived this long."

"Keep your eyes out on the walls. Hooks, fasteners. I got a feelin' we're going to be doin' a lot of repurposing." He stopped. "You wanna look at oh-six or oh-8 first? Figure we oughta get one that's right next door."

Malcolm considered them both, pivoting in place to look at one and then the other.

"Six has more windows facing seven, if we're looking to keep an eye on it," he offered.

Hooks and fasteners. Right. He would probably need something like that as a permanent solution... were they thinking of this place as 'permanent'? He supposed they had to, with no way out.

"Fair enough," he said, gesturing that way as he turned and headed towards it himself. "The little blonde girl used to live here - Claire. Twenty if she's a day. She was here last night. Might find this place with no useable chairs, considerin' when I saw her those first few days. You get to meet her?"

"Blonde named Claire. I don't.... think so. I've only met one woman here. At the party last night. I was on my third glass of the moonshine; I don't remember her name." A beat. "I don't actually even know if she was real, to be honest."

"What'd she look like?" The question came as he stepped up onto the porch and tested the door, finding it closed but not locked, and opening it into the living room with a look around and a pause in his stride.

He gestured Malcolm in behind him as he continued. He didn't expect to find anything in the house, but he wanted to clear it just to be sure.

"Anyone home?" he called out, accent drawing out with it.

No answer.

"Um. Brunette. About my height. She got into an argument with John later," he noted. "I think they're in a relationship. Or I hallucinated him in the sort of relationship my brain thinks he'd be in. Basically: a contentious one."

"Zed," Raylan supplied as he stuck a head into the kitchen and looked around before glancing back. "I saw that argument too. He loves her, won't say it for some stupid bullheadish reason. They're both real. She's apparently a Dreamer, a.. A psychic I guess. Saw him in some dreams, came to find him."

He moved onto the next room.

"Artist though. Maybe we can talk her into drawin' a map.."

"Zed," he said, snapping his fingers. "That's right."

He followed Raylan through the house with a mild glance around each room. He was interested in the layout of the bedrooms. They hadn't come across one; they must have been on the second floor.

The patio stood out as they passed the french doors, though.

"That's a nice space," he said, gesturing to it.

"I do love me a porch," he admitted. "I don't think we'll find anything upstairs but.. Pay attention to the pictures. You'll find the one I was talkin' about, the group photos."

He didn't ask if Malcolm wanted to lead the way, taking it himself with a stride.

"You feelin' that moonshine from last night or are Doc and I the only ones to suffer?"

"It's hard to tell," he admitted. "I've had a headache and nausea and blurriness all week. But. I don't see how it could possibly not. I'm not accustomed to a large amount of alcohol."

"How many bedrooms are there?" he asked as they got to the second floor. "I need the one farthest from... the others. And the street."

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