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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It was hardly a secret around town. Malcolm gestured towards the windows. "I don't know how much of the town you've seen, but... there isn't a pharmacy. And our kidnappers didn't think to drop off my prescriptions with me. So it's been... a bit of a rough ride."

"Wha-- there's not?" His face scrunches up incredulously. "What kind of town doesn't have a pharmacy?" He rolls his eyes, head shaking slightly which just causes his long hair to get in his face so he has to push it aside. "Stupid... what assholes." He folds his arms low across his chest. "What are you coming off of? How bad has it been?"

"Uh, we don't really know that there isn't one, I guess. There are parts of the town we can't reach. And apparently the barrier moves back from time to time? But I'm on... a bunch of things. Coming off the benzos is, I expect, the worst of it. I've been on some variation of them since I was fifteen," he explained. "I'm on two of them currently. You're not supposed to quit them cold turkey."

"This town gets weirder every time someone tells me something else about it," he mutters with a slight shake of his head. But the medication conversation garners more of his attention. "Oohh, I always loved benzos." The tone is almost like a kid talking about their favorite candies, but the distantly excited look in his eyes, that hyper sound in his voice, fade almost instantly as he shifts, a little awkwardly, into another practice role.

One hand sweeps in a wave in front of him. "Hi, my name is Klaus and I'm an addict." There's that flow of his words that says this isn't the first time they've been said, and he's definitely been to some support meetings in his time. "For almost two decades, I was into a whole bunch of shit and, uh-- I got sober recently! For three years. And..." One hand goes up to rub the back of his neck. "Well," he laughs awkwardly. "I ruined it. So, um- you know, I'm well-versed in withdrawal and all that fun stuff."

"Yeah, I don't..." His brow creased faintly. "I don't take them for fun," Malcolm informed him. "Once withdrawal runs its course, I'll still be left with crippling anxiety."

He chuckles a little, nodding. "Trust me, I'm not unfamiliar with anxiety. Or depression. Or just for good measure, a little suicidal ideation." Because what's the mental health gamut without a little flavor, right? The problem is, Klaus is far more flippant about all of those things than most people who are serious about maintaining their mental health care to deal with. But it's just one of his many (terrible) coping mechanisms.

Malcolm looked at him for a long moment.

"I used to think I wasn't suicidal, but. When I was in the lighthouse the other day, I did consider just... falling. For the peace and quiet."

All the flippant remarks fade as the man admits a very real, very personal thing, unexpectedly. But, maybe all his not-quite-jokes made it easier to admit the truth out loud. Klaus is also just good at people, he's always been a little magnetic, and managed to give off some sort of vibe that made people want to talk to him. That's what had happened with Destiny's Children, after all. An accident of happenstance and a little gift-of-gab greasing wheels he never expected to snowball the way it did.

His words don't have any of their earlier facetious lilt this time. "Yeah, it, um... it can really sneak up on you." he admits softly with a slight nod. "Sometimes, for me, it's... I don't know. It's like-- I don't always wanna die, you know, but if there was a way to just not exist for awhile, I'd take it. Not just... ignoring everyone, but really, truly just...not existing, in any capacity. If that makes sense?"

He shakes his head a bit, "Anyway, I think that feeling is part of what lead me down the path of addiction." He's had a lot of time to think and reflect on those things, come to a whole slew of conclusions about himself in those three years in the 60's that he never would have imagined himself finding.

"It kind of went the other way for me." Addiction leading to those feelings. "Though it's hard to tell. It's been most of my life at this point."

"Yeah, I guess it does that, huh?" He hums thoughtfully, lips pulled into a slight line as he nods a bit. No matter how it starts, those two things seem to always end up hand-in-hand. He saw the pattern a lot in the 60s, with the people that he picked up along the way with the movement. It was sad, but they'd made something better of themselves, together. Even if he grew a little tired of the way things were at the commune, he isn't sure he would change it for anything. He really learned a lot about himself there, with all of those people.

"They provide cigarettes in the general store," Malcolm told him. "And these cowboys that I live with made moonshine. But anything else has been a problem for... some of us."

Did it make a difference that his drugs were prescription and others were addicted to illegal substances? Not functionally.

"But if that's something you need... that's all that there is."

"Yeah, I found the cigarettes. Didn't know about the moonshine, though." He hums a little at the idea. He hasn't had something like that in awhile. Vodka was nothing to moonshine, especially if it was made right. He'll debate that a little further before he jumps down that road just yet. He may have wrecked his three years-- God. three years, he'd made it, three years he'd killed in an instant-- but it doesn't mean he wants to rush down the train track of where he used to be.

"Thanks for the tip, though." he smiles softly.

“Don’t want anyone stuck in my position that doesn’t have to be. And if I’m even worse when withdrawal is over and forget my manners entirely... thank you. For your... understanding.”

He gestured to the shelf. “Decided on a comedy yet?”

"Aw, come on. Withdrawal's the worst part." he says it with levity, like a joke, but his lips press into a small, genuine smile. "No problem... any time. Seriously. You feel like jumping off any more roofs, just... find me, first." He'll be that person for someone, if he has to. He'd been there too many times to count through the years not to at least offer. Sometimes, he's really not sure what kept him alive.

"Honestly, I forgot." He laughs a little, shaking his head.

Malcolm took a box off the shelf and looked at it for a moment, then looked at Klaus.

“Withdrawal isn’t the worst part. I took those meds for severe CPTSD and when the rampant panic and crippling anxiety and unfettered hallucinations all come back full force and I don’t know which of you are real and which are in my head and everyone starts to steer well clear of me like a lunatic on a subway car whether I’m in the middle of an episode or not, that will be the worst.”

A beat.

“Well. The hallucinations will probably still talk to me,” he allowed.

He handed Klaus a copy a Willow. “I remember liking that one,” he explained. “My name is Malcolm, by the way. Malcolm Bright.”

"Wait-- I know PTSD, what's the C for? How's it different?" He shakes his head. "Nah, man. Everyone's not gonna ditch you." He says it like he's certain of it, but of course he has no way to know that. "I won't ditch you." That much he can be sure of. He knows what it's like to be alone and questioning the reality around you, he wouldn't leave someone else to that.

"We'll come up with a sign that lets you know I'm real, something that even when you're not sure who's real or not, it'll pull you out of your head." Will that work? He has no idea. He has had schizophrenia and a smattering of other delusional disorder labels slapped on him plenty of times by shrinks that weren't equipped for dealing with a guy who literally saw the dead, but he didn't actually have hallucinations; he has no idea how they work. But the effort matters, he thinks. People need gestures, even if they're blind ones, even if they'll never work.

"Thanks." He takes the movie handed to him. He looks up and smiles a little. "Oh, right..." He shakes his head, laughing softly. "Klaus Hargreeves." he offers in return.

"Complex," he answered. "Complex post traumatic stress disorder." He cleared his throat. "The main difference is that complex ptsd is usually triggered in childhood by repeated traumas, instead of by one major trauma. My. Um. My father was a serial killer. I... saw things. And then he drugged me in the hope that I'd forget them. Some of the things I 'imagine' are actually memory fragments from that time."

He smiled a little back at Klaus' name. "'Klaus Hargreeves'. I like that. It sounds... distinguished." He considered the proposal. "You're talking about a code word. I don't know if that would work. The biggest problem is that anything I know is fair game to... my own imagination. But if you don't back away in horror and/or disgust, I can probably work with, like. Normal conversation."

"Oh... Man, I thought my dad was shitty." Reginald Hargreeves was definitely a terrible father, and it's hardly a comparison game, here. But a serial killer? Yikes. Biiiiig yikes. He can't help thinking about Vanya when he mentions his dad drugging him, the way Reginald had done to his sister, for... not completely dissimilar reasons, from the sounds of it.

He laughs a little at that. "Really? That's... not really the kind of commentary I usually get." He's amused by it, though. "I don't know... maybe? Something." He shakes his head. "You don't know me yet, but it takes a whole lot more than a little babbling at air to make me run away." Actually, he was usually the one babbling at empty airspace, so it would be an odd change of scenery.

Some people judged hard on appearances. Malcolm did not.

He smiled down at the floor and looked at Klaus. "In that case, I look forward to knowing you better."

"Likewise," he grins a little. "Thanks for the rec," he says, tilting the movie in his direction. Hopefully, there's a working VCR back at the boarding house.

"If you ever want to stop by or... hang out or something, I'm on Phillips Drive. 1306." He gestured towards the door. "I think there are one or two places in town I haven't checked out yet, though with nothing helpful in any of the obvious places, I'm not holding out hope. But. I'm going to get back to it."

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiles, a bright, genuine thing. He nods and gives him a little wave. "I'll see you around, Malcolm." Hey, look at that. A friend on the first day. He's doing pretty good, huh?

Malcolm met it with what had become one of his rare smiles these days and a wave as he headed out the door.

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012-014 » even the air itself was grey

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