018-020 » what he hides

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias.
WHEN: Days 018-020
WHAT: The fog recedes!
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Graham Plowman "Edge of Darkness"

DAYS 018-020
THE HIDDEN REVEALED
“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”
— Benjamin Franklin

As the sun rises in the distance above the sea, the fog slips away from the unsettling town, winding through streets and across buildings until it is nestled soundly in the forest. There it waits, ready to snare any who dare test its limits — residents would do well to remember what happened the last time they encountered the fog so intimately.

With the fog receded, the western portion of Mathias is now revealed and available for exploring. There are more businesses on the town square and even some on the street that runs off the square. The schoolhouse is nestled by the southern treeline, not from the little makeshift cemetery at the end of Jackson Boulevard that is courtesy of a few kind residents in town. To the far north of the square is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. And to the west, beyond the square, is another residential district of the same size as that to the east. What is different, however...

These buildings are all in some form of decay. From the beginnings of rot to completely collapsed and little more than a pile of proverbial bones, none of these homes are anything resembling livable. Well, as far as one can tell, at least. For between the streets of Hill Lane and Stine road there is a crack in the earth. A dozen feet across and fifty feet down, the crack extends from one side of the forest to the other, either end cut off by the fog. The view to the other side is clear but there is no way across.


THE NEW ARRIVALS
There are quite a few new faces in Mathias on this day. Awaking throughout Day 018, they will find themselves laying in the snow beside that unsettling crack in the earth, houses both quaint and decaying surrounding them as the snow begins to cover their bodies. Best get inside and warm up, dears.

SPECTRES IN THE NIGHT
The days are short now that winter seems to have set in unseasonably early. Though the clocks in Mathias fail to properly keep time or sometimes even work at all, the sun rises around 8:00am and sets at 5:00pm. There is far more darkness than light in these days, but in that darkness there is, in fact, light.

In the distance all across Mathias, there are lanterns lit against that darkness. Their lights dance across the snow, the warm flickering shining like tiny stars and offering an almost ethereal glow to the crisp white snow. It would be a beautiful sight to behold... if it weren't for the shadowy figures that held them. With partially raised arms, the figures hold the lanterns and walk the streets of Mathias, drifting in between buildings and disappearing into the forest. Still yet, there are some that simply stand in place, as if waiting for something or someone.

No matter where or when these figures are seen, they always seem to be facing away from our residents, and attempts at reaching them are all for naught. They will fade from view if one gets too close, and return to sight when that distance is regained. And in the morning, those lanterns may be found in the snow, their lights extinguished but their glass somehow still warm.

STRANGER IN THE SNOW
Those investigating the western part of Mathias and venturing near that inexplicable crack in the earth will have the most unsettling feeling of being watched. Most of the time, there is nothing there and no one to be seen, but then—

On the other side of that expanse, sitting on a porch, in the shadow of a home, or standing in the oddly moonlit street, there is a man. His features are shrouded in darkness and not much can be discerned about him, but instinct tells you he is dangerous. There is a sense deep in your bones that he is maliciously amused.

He makes no move to speak, nor will he respond to any attempts on your part. Instead, he sits, or he stands, and he watches. By the end of Day 020, all sign of him will be gone, along with the eerie feeling of being watched.

---

LOCATIONS

Unless otherwise noted, all new locations have working electricity and other utilities.

BENEDICT BOOKS Nestled quaintly on the square surrounding the Town Hall, a thick layer of dirt covering the front windows. A portrait hangs at the front of the store to illustrate the namesake of the little shop... that may, in fact, not be so little. Dust covers everything in sight and detritus litters the wooden floor, as if someone left the door open and allowed half the forest inside. (more info)

MATHESON ANTIQUES Also on the town square is an antique store that is a lesson in chaos more than culture. The items within are stacked haphazardly, creating narrow aisles running throughout the space. Furniture, light fixtures, old revolutionary and civil war memorabilia, all of it is jumbled together with no rhyme or reason. Indeed, one wrong move could create an avalanche of aged wood and peeling paint.

POE'S CLOTHES Located on the town square, this shop carries only the basics. Loose jeans in a few sizes, khakis, solid color dress shirts and blouses, flannel in various styles, socks and underwear.

SPIN RIGHT ROUND RECORDS On the square across from the beauty store, the music shop is as dusty as everything else in this town has been. Tables line the walls of the long shop, filled with rows and rows of vinyl records, while a few wall shelves display cassette tapes for sale. One side of the store is for New items, while the other holds the Used section with items for resale. Residents may recognize some of the artists but many are unfamiliar to them.

CLINIC Outside the decayed, crumbling building just north of the square is a still miraculously intact sign with the name of the clinic's doctor, Dr. Ken Suzuki. There is no way to treat patients in this location, but with care, some salvageable supplies may yet be found in the remains.

BARKER BOTANICALS Not quite a flower shop and not entirely an apothecary, the botanical store to the far north of the square is something of an amalgamation of both. With a few broken windows to let in the rain, parts of the shop have been overtaken by nature, the house plants growing beyond their pots and rotted flower petals littering the floor to tell of seasons past. The still unclaimed walls are filled with decaying plants and jars of dried herbs and other vegetation, along with a few essences and tinctures.

GREENHOUSE A few dozen yards from the botanicals shop is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. The glass is still miraculously intact, though covered in grime so thick that one cannot see inside.

GALLERY The gallery is essentially a large empty space with framed and matted black and white photographs of the town lining the walls. There is a small selected of prints available for sale near the front entrance, and a few rooms at the back of the building — a dark room for developing photos, a small office, and a locked room.

MOVIE THEATER This single-screen theater is quite small, having only 40 seats, but there is a large collection of movies in its storage room. These are all old film reels however, so hopefully someone knows how to thread a film projector.

HISTORY MUSEUM Across the street from the Historical Society, this once esteemed wooden building has seen better days. Windows and doors are boarded up and there is visible rot and decay on the exterior walls. Part of the roof has fallen in and the accumulating snow threatens to collapse the rest of it as well. It is not wise to venture within.

HISTORICAL SOCIETY This brick building has also seen better days, though in a different sort of way. Where once had been carefully cataloged collections and cozy reading rooms for aficionados of local history, there are now stacks of bankers boxes and weathered tomes in every nook and cranny. There is no organization to any of it, everything seeming to have been stashed in a hurry and then left forgotten. Anyone who dares to dive into this archive will need to devote quite some time in order to find anything worthwhile. They will also want to bring their own light source — the electricity does not work here and the windows are quite dark from the accumulated dust and grime.

SCHOOLHOUSE A much smaller school than most of our residents might be used to, there are only a half-dozen rooms in the building, with a few comprising classrooms, meeting areas, and workspaces. All ages were taught here, and one might almost imagine the sound of children's whispered voices and distant laughter while within the empty building.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— SNOW continues to fall in Mathias. Days 18-19 see light snowfall that very slowly accumulates, but the snowfall turns moderately heavy on Day 20 and sees significant accumulation. The temperature hovers just below freezing and dips lower when the sun goes down.

— 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.

— THE FOG has receded from the town proper and much of the eastern and northern beach. The path through the northern forest to the lighthouse is now also clear.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. While Daisy Johnson has returned, Zed Martin, Rey, and Quentin Coldwater have now vanished without a trace.

OOC UPDATES

— MADNESS has now been unlocked. Congratulations to Inky for Claire earning the first Madness! Who will be next? (Please be sure to keep your sanity updated regularly; Stars has created an amazing tracker for anyone to use if they'd like.)

— HELPERS are officially in residence! Kelly is our Registrar and Stars is our Librarian — both of these delightful members of our community are helping behind the scenes to keep things organized and updated (and doing wonders for the mod's own sanity levels), so please give them some thanks for their hard work!

— REPORTING updates is still a thing that your mod and helpers beg you to do. Changes to locations, plot notes that affect the community, and discoveries should be reported over here so these can all be noted in their appropriate places. (For clarification, reported Discoveries are not public knowledge unless a character has ICly shared this information.)

— A MAP of Mathias now exists, thanks to our wonderful Librarian! Please note that it is not to scale and there may be a few minor errors due to your frazzled mod. Expect updates in the future as more secrets are revealed.

— BULLETIN BOARD — don't forget about it. That's all.

CLAIMING AP REWARDS

Normally, only one AP reward can be claimed per log, but due to the plethora of new and old locations to explore, this restriction is being relaxed. Instead, for this log only:

— Players may spend AP on up to three rewards, though only Spot Hidden may be repeated.
— If a player is spending multiple Spot Hiddens, they must be with different characters and in different locations.

If two characters are investigating the same location together, they may each spend a Spot Hidden on that location. Players should record their spent AP after the AP request has been approved. Sometimes there is nothing to Spot with your Hidden and the points will be "refunded" to use elsewhere.

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Comments

[thering]

Nothing's going to stop the fog, but they're going to try anyway. What else can they do, just sit around brewing more moonshine waiting for death to come get them?

"There were many cold nights in the well." No light, no warmth, no fire, no- anything. He wasn't used to it at first, having never been that far north for such a long stretch of time. But you get used to anything.

"Lord knows those winters did try to get me. But it seems I cannot freeze to death." He had his guns with him, but. Well. Anyway. He doesn't really want to talk about the thoughts he had while he was down there, so he opts to change the subject, as he is so often wont to do.

"I don't think this street's been done yet," he gestures with a tilt of his head before starting up that way, his sigh visible in the morning chill. "We can get inside that first house, shut ourselves in, start nailin'." A pause.

"These boards to the windowframes, I mean."

[tinstar]

"Long as you were down there, that's a lotta winters." The idea that Doc couldn't freeze to death opened up a whole new can of worms. Ones that Doc swiftly tried to close, to very little success.

Raylan turned the wheelbarrow to follow, unbothered by the weight of goods he was hauling, and didn't hide the smirk that curled at Doc's slip up. Thinkin' a lot about nailin' there, Doc? He wouldn't say it; he could see the door that it would lead to.

"That mean you can't drown either? No deaths by natural means?"

cw suicidal things

[thering]

"I have not tried that one yet," he says wryly. Nor is he keen to. He knows he should not be catching any bullets, running into any knives or scissors, walking into the path of any oncoming vehicles, or passing under tall buildings and having defenestrated pianos fall on top of him. He otherwise managed to survive a hundred and thirty years alone just fine, with... some of his sanity intact.

He might be able to survive getting trapped somewhere, buried alive, submerged in water, though if it comes to testing that out, thank you kindly, but no thank you. He would rather try his luck with the fog.

"I 'on't know how many nights I thought about putting myself out of that misery," he says once they're inside and he can talk quietly, his low voice rumbling over aged, partially rotting wooden walls. After a while it wasn't the claustrophobia. It was the abject, all-consuming sort of loneliness, the thought that no one had come looking for him whilst he worried about Wyatt, Kate, all the rest of them. That they wouldn't be able to find him, even if they did bother to look. And maybe a bit of the realisation of what eternal longevity was going to look like that he did not consider with blood in his coughs and hellfire nipping at his heels. He supposes it makes him sound weak, confessing it, but if anyone is going to have to witness Doc Holliday hit rock bottom in this town, it had better damn well be Raylan.

"Guess I was too stubborn to die." Or too cowardly to pull the trigger. Maybe a bit of both.

[tinstar]

Knowing about the weaknesses and strengths of Doc's immortality seemed like an important thing. Not that knowing about them would stop Raylan from say, going out into the bitter cold to make sure that Doc got back into some place warm, but important nonetheless. There would still be no running out into the fog without protest either.

The last thing Doc was was an experiment of some kind.

The Marshal only nodded a little, turning around backwards to pull the wheelbarrow up and into the house before dropping it and rubbing his hands together as he kicked the door shut. It'd keep out the cold and any ear hustlers. He watched Doc talk, watching the way his downturned face found ways to stay busy that wasn't meet an eye and hummed a short note.

"Stubbornness ain't a bad quality, no matter what they say. Look what it got you. Topside. Wynonna. 'Course it also got you here but.. The pros outweigh the cons, if you look at it right. Weaker man wouldn't'a made a week, much less a million of 'em. Hell, I don't know that I'd make a million of 'em." If he were being honest. Raylan never had those kind of proclivities and he understood fully where he had some privilege in that, but he'd never been asked to face what Doc had faced. No, he doesn't think he'd do as well to stay sane.

[thering]

He is under no illusion that there would be a line of people wanting to conduct experiments on him if everyone was to know who he is. Even if his hand is being somewhat forced here, being able to pick and choose what he's willing to subject himself to is a much better fate.

Don't do this to him, Raylan. It only makes him miserable, keeping count of how many days it has been since he passed his millionth day. He can barely fathom anything numbering in the thousands.

"It must be barely two weeks, since I met you," he notes. It feels a lot longer than that. It feels like he's known Raylan all his life. In the grand scheme of things, one blink and Raylan would be gone. Same with Wynonna, Waverly, Nicole, Jeremy, Dolls...

Doc's grip tightens on a broken piece of floorboard he is holding in both hands. Now isn't the time or place to be having a little existential crisis. He moves quietly to pick up the hammer and the pack of nails they managed to find in the garage.

"Feels like ten years with all that kicking and screaming going on," he jokes.

[tinstar]

That line would have a hellva angry Marshal to climb to get to Doc. But counting the days were important to Raylan. Time spent.. outside of where he belonged felt like it was something he should be aware of. Getting too comfortable around Doc might be a problem, getting too comfortable in Mathis was not.

"Nearly so," Raylan confirmed with a nod. "We've been here for 18 days total so far. Maybe just over two weeks." Unwilling to just stand there and stare at Doc, Raylan grabbed a board himself and a hammer, though he doubted how sturdy the hammers were subject to the same rot as everything else. He eyed Doc sidelong for a moment before glancing down, thinking briefly about the weight of time on someone like Doc.

"Yeah, they're.. bit more noise than I expected," he admitted as he held up the board to the bottom most edge of the blown out window, nails pushed a little out of their bent holes with a creaking sound. "Never sure if it's him or this place." Or Doc, maybe, even if he didn't look like a screamer.

"You regrettin' lettin' him stay?" he probed carefully with the same casual tone that hid his own struggles with waking up to screaming and a fight every night. It didn't take much to set in the first nail; it was all softer than it should have been, and he shifted to hold the other side, letting Doc's answer fall between it all.

[thering]

"You have been keeping count," he observes, surprise etched in the few lines on his face when he raises his eyebrow and looks over curiously. It probably isn't a chore to be counting how many sleeps they have had here. Doc simply doesn't want to. If he had kept count of how many sleeps he had had alone in the dark, he would not have made it out.

Honestly, he hadn't known what to expect when Malcolm moved in. That first night was a bit of an exhausted blur, very much hungover, not exactly representative of the rest of their week with Malcolm. He thinks they've settled into as comfortable of a rhythm as they can ever hope to attain now.

Doc's pretty sure it's all Malcolm. He's more of a twitcher and a whimperer, himself. And Raylan is usually deathly quiet. Whether that's because he's not actually sleeping, he wouldn't know.

"No." The answer comes easily, quickly, definitively, without any second guessing or any resentment or bitterness.

"There was no one there when you or I needed them to be. I'm not going to be the one to walk away from this, letting him go through this alone. My only regret is that I cannot help his suffering, and that we have to watch him fall apart and pick himself back up night after night."

[tinstar]

Raylan looked over as he finished banging with a resolved look and a half nod of agreement, "Good."

Despite what Malcolm thought and protested, likely to Doc as much as he had to Raylan, Raylan refused to see helping someone survive themselves as a burden. It wasn't paradise and the hours sucked, but knowing that Malcolm wasn't going to fling himself out of a window or down some stairs was worth it. For half a moment, he'd worried that Doc would answer differently and admit that it was too much. He wouldn't blame him, but it would suck more to be alone with the screams.

That was one board but clearly it needed two nails on each end, if only because the ones that came in it weren't the best. Anything to keep himself busy and moving and not thinking as much as he did when he was still.

"Not countin' means gettin' comfortable, for me. This ain't Lexington and the house ain't a shitty motel room that I can just get rid of when I'm done here, so.." He looked back at Doc as he came back with those nails, knowing full well that avoiding eye contact often created suspicion and questions that maybe he'd rather avoid.

"It'd be a lot easier if we had his prescriptions. On all of us. Can't imagine what it's like for him though. Havin' that much he can't control in him."

[thering]

He would take screaming over silence. It matters not to him what Malcolm thinks about their current living situation. He is not Raylan's or Doc's 'problem', much as they would like to be able to help him fix it so he can be at peace.

"I think it is safe to say we have looked everywhere. There are none to be found." Doc understands chronic pain. Looking for good days amidst a sea of neverending bad ones. Watching yourself fall apart, waste away, slowly and inevitably becoming a fraction of the man you used to be. He has the luxury of self-medicating. Malcolm, unfortunately, has another kind of chronic trouble.

"He seems to be doing what he can, as best he can." But hey, sometimes you get tired of fighting against your own body when there's no end in sight. Malcolm couldn't be blamed if he has internalised that sense of hopelessness.

"I hope he would tell us, if there is something more we could do for him. He does seem awful keen to be telling us everything else."

[tinstar]

"There's nothing to be found in this goddamned town," Raylan swore, turning to amble over to the wheelbarrow to pick up another board, pausing to turn it over in his hands a few times as he nodded softly at Doc's assertion.

"We'd all be doin' worse if he wasn't." Raylan didn't want to think about what a Malcolm who wasn't trying to keep it together looked like. The idea alone screamed chaos. Chaos that none of them needed to learn how to handle on top of everything else. Raylan scoffed softly as he turned back around, eyebrows lifting with his coming assurances.

"He would. I've asked too. Best ways to mitigate stress, ways to keep him busy. There's not much we can do except try and keep him preoccupied when we can." And it was clear that while Raylan would take the pros of the situation, he was frustrated by the lack of real help they could provide.

"When we were in the lighthouse, he nearly let himself go off the edge. Woulda been the end of him." Raylan glanced over at Doc before situating himself back in front of the window, trying to keep his hands busy. But if anyone might understand that urge, it'd be Doc, considering what he'd just told him. "We'll have to keep an eye on him around things like that too."

He wasn't sure he could handle Doc or Malcolm offing themselves or being offed. He wasn't going to think about it. Not now. Not yet. Not unless reality made him.

[thering]

Well at least there is food, and water. Some decent shelter too, away from the cold. They had been so easy to come by, and no one had come trying to take those things away from them. It is only too easy to take those things for granted. That's not Doc's optimism speaking; he's just happy they don't have to worry about those on top of everything else.

"He looks upon this town and all the questions we do not yet have answers to as some kind of puzzle to be solved. I think that helps him." Doc finishes affixing one panel to the windowframe, maybe hitting a little too hard on that last bang and splintering the wood a bit. He brushes his hand over it before starting on another. Doc supposes he's maybe not so different, but he'd rather keep himself busy than sit around and play with the Mathias rubik's cube in his head. That's why he has been out, meeting people, helping people, or making a few tweaks to the moonshine formula every time they get started on a new batch, or tearing up old flooring, boarding up windows, or at the library finding a new section with a few new titles to lose a few hours in, or in the forest harvesting more willow bark for Malcolm. If he stands still he might drown.

"He almost had a clumsy accident near the ledge or did he have that thousand yard stare out into the sky?" Doc clarifies. Raylan, you could have mentioned this earlier. Those makeshift restraints have been tested and they seem to be holding him, but if he's going to willingly launch himself out the window then that is a different matter entirely.

[tinstar]

Raylan no doubt took those things for granted - his primary concerns about food had been swiftly solved, so he hadn't thought much of it past that first point. Shelter, food, warmth and now, companionship. Technically, none of them needed anything else to survive.

"We're all lookin' for things to keep busy," Raylan acknowledge with a passing look over Doc. He noticed the coming and goings of his own house and how often they were in it, generally speaking. He didn't ask because he'd assumed Doc was doing the same thing. Raylan was failing the most out of all of them at it, it seemed, but that was the way of the South. Slow.

"Little of both, really. One before the other. He looked a little disappointed that I caught him if I'm tellin' the truth." He took a breath and stepped back over to the window, with a few nails in hand. "I don't think it's a forward conscious kinda thought. I think it.. sneaks up on him."

[thering]

"Do you think we're wasting time, Raylan? Keeping busy with these things?" He could probably pick up a book from the library and learn how to build something on wheels from scratch. Or something that'll float.

"Maybe we should be building a big old boat instead. Try and get us all out of this place." Although he doesn't know where they're going, how to steer Noah's ark, how long it would take. How many months of supplies they would need to take with them from the Grey Gull and the general store and their slow replenishment rates.

"Nothing's happening to him on our watch. We just- need to keep a closer eye on him, is all. Let him know we're here for him, that we want him here where he's better off alive. That he's not a burden, to anyone." And if they say it enough, which he knows is a big ask because they don't say much of anything sometimes, one day he'll just- internalise that. On top of all those negative thoughts. And when he draws his cards from the top of the pile he'll get the good ones first, and know that he matters to them, and what he does matters all the more.

[tinstar]

"No," he answered easily, stopping the half hearted attempt to lift the new board into place, managing only to turn it back and forth in his hands in an idle, inattentive inspection. It was a serious question and a serious suggestion, but not one he could get behind. "Aside from the fact that none of us are boatbuilders, sailin' is more dangerous than us tryin' to cross by land, fog notwithstanding. Stayin' busy helps us from goin' mad. I'm startin' to think that that's what this place wants."

Their madness.

Raylan took another deep breath and tried again, butting the second board up against the first. "I tell him directly when I see hesitation on him. Hope that's enough. Can't help it with that.. that sad kicked puppy dog look he gets."

Alright, maybe Raylan had a weakness for dirty blondes with blue eyes. Maybe.

[thering]

He's lived most of his life in landlocked places. A boat is probably at the bottom of preferred options as well, but. Desperate times. The lack of experience is holding him back on that endeavour - their materials are limited and he doesn't want anyone drowning because of him.

"So. He does that to you too." Yes, Doc has seen that particular look. He does feel sorry for him. But no amount of sad eyes is going to make Doc budge.

"Has he... told you anything yet?" Doc tries to fish, clearing his throat as he gets to hammering the next plank in on top of the first.

[tinstar]

"Whether he knows it or not," Raylan confirmed with a nod as he joined in the hammering to secure one side down before moving to the other. The puppy dog eyes only really did damage when Malcolm didn't mean them to. When he was terrified or felt hopelessly dysfunctional. When Raylan couldn't do anything to help except stand there like a bump on a log with ears.

"Told me anythin' about what? Why he is the way he is? Answer comes around to an unsurprisin' answer. His father." Raylan hammered the other nail into place and stepped back again to look it over, nodding softly before returning his attention to Doc. "Apparently, on top of everythin' else, he tried to kill Malcolm when he was a kid. I didn't.." He shook his head. "I didn't ask for details. Wasn't a great time for it."

[thering]

That's not what Doc meant, but he's happy to let Raylan continue. In all likelihood it means he hasn't said anything to Raylan yet, and Doc will try not to be the one to preemptively ruin any conversations in the works.

"Well, shit." What else is there to say about that? He could make some stupid joke about Arlo getting some serious competition and maybe Raylan would have found it funny but it would have been insensitive. Crass.

"D'you think he's getting worse?" Doc does, but he doesn't want to taint Raylan's opinion by saying that first. And he's not sure if maybe the fatigue is just making him think that Malcolm's getting worse.

[tinstar]

"Well shit's about right," Raylan agreed with a sigh, scratching at his forehead with his thumb, a gesture that forced his hat backwards on his dome by a few inches. "Without his meds, I think we're seein' what his real level is. Settin' a raw, unmedicated baseline. You know they've had him on those things since he was a kid?"

Raylan shook his head. "I don't think he's gonna get any better, regardless. Best we can hope for is this bein' the norm. A few broken cups and messes. Nothin' that can't be cleaned up."

He was oblivious to anything else Doc could have possibly meant.

"We'll manage. I heard you've been bringin' him willowbark. That's like aspirin, right?"

[thering]

"He didn't mention it." But Doc has different conversations with Malcolm. He's not certain if it's merely the differing natures of their relationship or if Raylan taking things slower around here has meant he's around more for Malcolm to confide in. Doc ends his days in comfortable silence with Raylan, and sometimes they do talk. He doesn't have a similar ritual with Malcolm. He is thinking maybe he should start. Especially if it'll be helpful for Malcolm to have a small window of time allotted in a day where he can just feel comfortable saying anything he likes.

"Willow bark is what we used, back in the day before aspirin. The best one is young, couple years old, newly formed, but we can't choose what we find here. You're welcome to come along, next time I go get another batch. Might learn sommin'." There's only so much one man can harvest and carry with him in a day, and with this snow, it's getting harder and taking more time to dry out so that it's safe for Malcolm to use.

"Hell I don't know, I mean we could try fishin' or sommin'." Not that he would know the first thing about it. But that's what the library's for. "Find a few things we could bring Malcolm along for."

[tinstar]

The Marshal figured they just hadn't gotten around to it, oblivious to the idea that Malcolm and Doc could be having any other kind of 'Getting to know you' conversation. Still, he was a little surprised that Malcolm hadn't - maybe he had just fallen into the right, terrible topic to get the man to open up. What a sucky talent for tender topics he seemed to have.

"Wouldn't mind at all. Might be useful later. I don't even know how it's taken, really.." He looked over at Doc at the suggestion of fishing, from idly eyeing the wheelbarrow and shrugged with his face.

"We know they've got a fishery somewhere in town. They'll have hooks and line. Might not find any poles, but I'm sure we could work somethin' out." Of course he knew the basics of how to fish. "Don't know how much of that we'll get to do in the winter though. Might have to think of somethin' else in the meantime. You ever been off a body of water in winter?"

He must have, right? Raylan imagined that Doc had seen quite a bit of the coast to coast of America, however far off he might be from the truth of it.

[thering]

"Malcolm just puts some in his tea. I'm not sure that's the best way to get the... whatever goes into aspirin out, but it is more palatable." Doc has borrowed some books from the library about extracting a purer form of salicin, making essences and tinctures - they do have the alcohol and the bottles for it - but to actually try and distill anything would require them to stop making moonshine and re-use the same equipment for a similar process that would bear a much greater resemblance to modern chemistry. He doesn't doubt that Raylan would be willing to do it, but between a gunslinger and a marshal they don't have the expertise to pull it off. Homebrewing is a hobby they can do on the side, but this is something else. The place would be more likely to go up in flames, and even if they succeed there's no guarantees that whatever they get out of the process would be safe to consume.

"I haven't been to as many places as I would like, if I'm honest. I was told a warmer climate would be better for the cough, so I hardly ventured anywhere with a winter." Whether it's true or not, it's what they believed in at the time. Of course, he didn't have such considerations once he was cured, but he didn't have time to be traipsing around after that either. Solitary confinement happened before he could get anywhere.

"Actually I don't- I haven't done shit," he says with a small smile and a shrug. His window needs one more board and then he'll be done. "Got old without any wisdom. Haven't met nobody, seen nothin'. Learnt nothin', either, 'part from how to use a few things 'round the house and teaching myself how to drive. Used to think I didn't have any time at all but these past couple of years I got all the time in the world, I'm still not really using it wisely either."

[tinstar]

The little gaps in their collective knowledge were large but there wasn't much to be done about it beyond try and find medicinal books that would help and hope that someone with the missing tidbits would join them in this disconnected quasi-hellish snowglobe of a town. But that's how life was, generally speaking, so Raylan could handle making due until something came along to help improve things.

Raylan gave Doc an odd little look before shrugging with his face, eyebrows rolling a little as his features settled back down. He had to be wrong sometimes but it was a bit odd to imagine Doc as not a well traveled man. "Suppose it's easy for me to forget that's the kinda life you came from. Point is, its the coldest wind chill you'll ever feel."

Doc was cut from the same cloth as he was, by and large. It felt as though Doc would settle perfectly into a modern world. Maybe he didn't fit as well as Raylan thought.

"What's the most jarrin' thing you've come across in the modern world?" he asked impulsively, now that he was thinking about it.

[thering]

"If Lady Luck's smiling, maybe this is as cold as it gets." Just because he can survive a bitterly cold stretch and seems perpetually dressed for winter doesn't mean it's not uncomfortable and miserable as all hell. Raylan's discomfort hasn't gone unnoticed either, although Malcolm seems to be dealing better with the weather change.

It's a bit of a weird question that doesn't quite throw Doc off, but he does take his time with it, finishing up his handiwork with the window first and replacing his tools and unused boards back into Raylan's wheelbarrow before he answers.

"I think it's just- everything's gone, y'know? I can learn to work all this stuff I ain't never used before but I wouldn't- I could go back to Georgia and not even recognise where my mama died. I mean they're all dead at this point, but. Everyone gives you dirty looks, nobody dresses like we do." He didn't have hindsight when he said yes to the Stone Witch. Maybe he'd have done a few things different if he could go back to that moment.

"Heh. I think I'm the jarring thing in your world." Because that's what it is. Raylan's world. Malcolm's world. It's- not really his. He's just a weird kind of... tourist, overstaying his welcome. "I haven't even told anyone my name. Just you and Malcolm. And Mister Five, found me in a library book."

[tinstar]

Raylan huffed a little breath that clouded out in front of him with half a shake of his head. "I don't think much of anythin' is smilin' on us in this place. Coastside winters are harsher than this, from what I've heard."

The Marshal would hit up the new clothing store in the next couple of days anyway and would be better prepared for the freezing cold than he is now. The wool jacket was not enough on it's own, but he'd been dressed for fall, not freezing. The task at hand was idly abandoned as he focused on Doc and what they were touching on.

"Might be better not to. Avoid all the questions curious assholes like me ask," he said with a passing pull of a smile that fell as he continued. "I can't say anythin' about the way it's changed - that's always jarrin' if you're gone for a while, come back, new strip malls put up, old restaurant torn down, treeline pushed back into oblivion.. Still your world though. Mine too." He tipped his hat at Doc. "Dress and all. People might give me dirty looks, but they're also the first to look to me to get shit done. You'll get more shit over your waistcoat then your hat or shoes. Call it the death of style in the modern age."

Raylan looked at the windows with a sigh. "C'mon. What'd'ya say we stop by the boarding house, make sure they're set and go home. I don't know about you, but I could use a fire and a drink."

[thering]

"Well I- suppose I could forgo the waistcoat..." Doesn't take him that much longer putting it on in the morning though and he slums around plenty in the house in little more than a singlet and trackpants. He just doesn't leave the house looking like that.

"Don't really think I want to be blending in though." If he's going to care about what other people think, he should worry about his deeds, his legacy, what people think he stands for. Not what he's wearing. That won't matter when he's gone.

"Alright. That's more important, anyway. Most number of people living there." And he doesn't want to be spending a minute longer in this wretched weather than he really needs to, even if he might appear not to mind the cold so much.

"I'm right behind you. Just lighting one up." He's just trailing slightly behind so Raylan won't get a face full of smoke.