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.

navigation | faq | setting | mod contact

Comments

[fika]

First off, there might still be drinking, though likely not of the same vein as it would be between Doc and Dean.

To his credit, he tries to keep himself steady on his feet, though that's a little harder to manage, stumbling forward as Doc ushers him in and there's a small hitch of breath in protest. Everything hurts, adrenaline finally let up, that rush of cold buzzing through frayed nerves. Nothing he hasn't felt before.

Except, well, this was kind of a first in a weird way too. He laughs, a single and uncomfortable burst, more nerves than anything else. "Close enough. A cliffside," he croaks, picks a point to focus on before wiping the blood off his brow with his jacket sleeve. He's going to need a new one anyway. "I'm getting real fucking sick of this place."

[thering]

Everyone has been echoing that sentiment, more or less. Actually if it wasn't for being kidnapped or the murderous fog or the strange dismembered voices he doesn't mind this place so much. It's quite similar to that small town life that he is used to. And he has met and gotten acquainted with many of the colony. For the first time they are not also Wynonna Earp's friends. He is carving something small and meaningful out for himself.

Guiding Five over towards the closest seat, which happens to be a dining chair, Doc rolls up his sleeves and bends a little at the knees, starts attempting to peel the jacket off Five's shoulders.

"What happened at this cliffside?" He can guess, but he would let Five speak. He could be frustrated, patronising on his 'I told you so' high horse whilst reiterating what he had said several moons (and several moonshines) ago about not pushing himself using those abilities of his. He is not. Only concerned.

'I told you so' did nothing to salvage the absolute shitshow that went down at the OK Corral. It is not a salve for their current predicament.

"There anyone else we need to be fetching from this cliffside?"

[fika]

If you take the fact that they are all stuck in the ass-end of a dimensional sneeze aside, and the killer fog, and the messing of powers? No, this place wouldn't be so bad.

However it is, perhaps, uncharacteristic in the expectations that Five has assigned to himself, that he finds starts of attachment forming to a select few faces here. All sharing a similar fate or displacement, and just that smattering of misery here and there to keep their interests unified. He isn't alone this time, and maybe he should considering acting like it.

There's a fear in that, too - Elliot knew the Hargreeves for how long, before he got murked? It didn't take much. They were always the harbingers of disaster, and for how hard Five tried to protect family and world both, he couldn't deny that.

Maybe he'll bite down the bitter guilt later in the night. For now, he drops himself onto the chair, and tries to help Doc disentangle a gangly arm out of his coat. He'd be cursing right now, but all he manages is another hiss.

"Tried to reach the other side," does that meet your guess, Doc? He glances up. "It runs between two streets. I got over fine!" He leans forward, hands on his knees, knuckles white and scraped. "Something swatted me off the edge."

He snorts, and promptly winces, shakes his head to the final question.

[thering]

"Well I am relieved you made it out. In... mostly one piece." Doc sets the coat aside once it is off and heads swiftly to the kitchen to grab an unopened bottle of moonshine, bringing it back to Five. He helps him crack it open and tucks it against his side before letting go.

"My kit is upstairs. You might want to take a drink first." If necessary, he's going to be using it as a disinfectant when he returns. He takes one last look at Five over his shoulder before hurrying upstairs to grab what he needs.

He's not actually sure what he needs - doesn't have much more than the kits he has salvaged and tried to keep restocked - and he's half-wondering now whether he should have spent some time making some wooden splints and other objects for times such as these.

"Do you think you've broken anything?" Five might need to take his shirt off for Doc to take a look at any bleeding and bruising, but he'll throw some logs onto the fire first. "Here, show me."

[fika]

"Kind of wondering -" he isn't going to turn down some moonshine, and definitely not now, and the swigs he takes might be a bit too generous, grimacing at the sting. "- if it would have been a little neater if I hadn't."

He isn't saying he's going to be doing anything so drastic as attempting a reset now, or that he wants to give another shot at the death loophole, but right now he'd take a mouthful of sand over feeling like he just got run over by a truck.

He waits for Doc to return back down the stairs, and he almost laughs if the act itself wasn't so damn unpleasant, pinpricks in his lungs. "Well, I heard the crack," stiffly, he grabs the edge of his sweater, hikes it up just enough. He hadn't seen the damage himself, and while there hadn't been too long a time between Coulson sweeping him up and coming here, the starting of red bruising was already more than evident, spindling out from his side. "Any chance they aren't broken?" It all still felt the same level of shitty.

[thering]

"No." If he sounds like he's talking to a puppy right now, well, that is solely Five's fault. There is nothing neat about death. There are no guarantees he will return. Jill Valentine did not. Did he not see the state Klaus was in? He cannot put that man through that again. And if Doc has to smack him, he will, even in his current state.

He brings a blanket in closer to try and keep Five warm, trying to make the couch work as a makeshift table. He's hoping Five would be willing to stay the night, though he is wary of Malcolm screaming him awake in the middle of the night.

"Well, you heard the crack. There is some swelling. They could be fractured, if you are lucky." He touches the swollen area gently, feeling around a little bit. They never had x-rays in his time, so he doesn't think it's necessary. Also, this isn't his area of specialty. He only has some experience, poor folks getting kicked by ponies and getting beaten up himself and the like.

"Have you coughed any blood? Trouble breathing?" He's hoping he doesn't need to operate - he doesn't have anything sharp enough and the risk of infection is high - but right now he thinks Five will heal fine.

"I have some willow bark on hand, might help with the pain. Hope you aren't thinking of going anywhere else or doing anything stupid tonight." He gets up again to grab some ice from the freezer first, tipping them out onto a cloth and bundling it up before bringing it to Five's bruising.

[fika]

Doc's right, he knows he is. He knows there isn't a guarantee, and one resurrection is far too singular to be a pattern. And maybe it's childish bitterness bleeding its way out of someone who isn't used to needing help, not unlike an injured animal recoiling when cornered.

An overdramatic comparison it may be, even if he just grits his teeth and tightens his grip on the fabric of his sweater, slipping an arm from one of the sleeves. Doc starts prodding him shortly after and for all the lightness of the touch, there's a petty little desire to smack the hand away. He doesn't.

He knows he isn't going anywhere tonight, now that he's made his way here. He isn't sure he'd be able to face whatever look Klaus is bound to give him if he crawls into their room looking like he does now.

Tomorrow isn't going to be any better. Arguably, it was probably going to be worse. But that's fine. He'll handle that in the morning. And if he drinks enough now, he just might be able to sleep like the dead, through whatever screams Malcolm needs to shout out against his own nightmares.

"No blood," well, none from his mouth anyway. There's a cut just in his hairline from when his face scraped against the cliffside, but that's nothing. "And yeah. Yeah there sure fucking is," shallow breaths and a stabbing ache if he tries to take deeper ones. It's almost textbook but he still doesn't want to admit that.

The look he gives Doc is a withering one at best, tracking his movements as he fetches the ice. "It wasn't —" what? wasn't stupid? Kind of a shitty proclamation when he looks just about as great as he feels. "— no. Wouldn't dream of it." Confirmed in a very believable, if pissy tone that idles out into a quiet little hiss, cold bundle of ice pressed into the persistent, dull ache. "Shit, bones always heal so slow."

[thering]

"Six weeks, more or less. And that is if you put your feet up and rest." In Five's case it will more likely be eight. Doc starts boiling some water to prepare the herbal brew. It is not an over-the-counter painkiller, but it will have to do.

"Try to breathe deeply, even with the chest ache. And do let me know if there's any kind of sharp pain, any blood. I will send word to Mister Klaus, in case he goes out looking for you. You are spending the night here, sleeping off too much moonshine." They cannot hide today's incident from him but they can spare him the worry once Five makes it through the night okay and Doc is more certain that nothing has ruptured internally.

He returns to Five's side while the brew is going, a cloth damp with warm water in his hand. There is a certain gentleness, determination and focus as he dabs away at Five's cut and any other dirt scuffs and scratches on his arms and legs. It's like picking up a stray off the street and trying to get it cleaned up.

Popping the first aid kit open, Doc pours some antiseptic out onto a cotton pad and dabs away at the cut, band-aid sitting on the coffee table.

"It gets a little noisy in here at night." And for once that is not a flirting, innuendo-laden statement. "Recurring nightmares. Nothing to worry about. But perhaps drinking more until you do knock yourself out is not a bad idea."

[fika]

"Ah crap," six weeks is a long time to be patient. And maybe they both know he won't be. If anything, he'll have to get very used to the pain, instead. It won't be this bad forever. He can live with an ache. Just not this. "You try and breathe deeply," muttered through clenched teeth.

Even days are precious here, hours. And with all his penchant for pushing past limitations, he doubts he can turn back time on this. Especially not now. Maybe back at the cliffside, but he wasn't even thinking clearly.

So, he has to accept this, and that may be the toughest part, as he gives a huff of an exhale, and tips his head back against the wooden back of the chair. Uncomfortable, but everything is right now.

He nods along at the soft lie Doc will weave to Klaus. "Alright, yeah. That - that could work," it still unease that he is met with at the thought. The what ifs of Klaus' unpredictability all converging in on the shock he'd gone through days prior.

Five, for all his efforts, tries to not let himself fall into the nostalgia of having someone else other than him dab at the stinging cut. This isn't Grace, and he isn't home - he's very distinctly not home, in fact, being fussed over by a cowboy from the eighteen hundreds. It's ludicrous, what your brain can remember through association.

This time though, there's no admonishment, no I told you so hissed like a curse.

Instead, Doc is methodical, practiced and practical. Perhaps too careful.

He gives another try at a laugh, dry as it is. It sounds a little more pitiful than intended. "Household of seven, remember? I'll sleep fine."

A long pause, before he adds: "Shame this wasn't a dinner instead," it isn't quite an apology, but nothing usually really is with Five. It's a sorry I showed up looking half-dead on your front porch.

[thering]

Sorry he doesn't look anything like your gorgeous Stepford robot mother, Five.

"As long as I won't be needing to serve you liquefied dinner through a tube," he chides. They have a long ways to go before truly testing his patience. Even then it is unlikely he will give up on them.

Applying the band-aid over the cut, he checks over everything else that he can see and gently probe at before he's satisfied they can simply wait and see now. He gets up to throw a couple more big logs onto the fire, planning on keeping it going the whole night, and then he pours his herbal brew out, but he never strays too far from Five.

"Have some of this. It might help with the pain," he offers. It doesn't taste great, woody and bitter, but he's added some sugar - there's plenty from the brewing stash - and there's always moonshine to wash it all down and wreck whatever functioning tastebuds Five have left.

[fika]

Not everyone can look like the Hargreeves Stepford robot mother, it's true.

"That's - something I'd like to avoid, too," Five concedes. Probably more so because his pride may not be able to handle that. Why does it feel like he's being scolded right now? He's a bit too exhausted to bite of too much substance back at that, at how Doc seems to never go too far from his orbit.

When he takes a sip, he expects it to be unpleasant - it is bitter, earthy, that touch of sweetness dulling it just a bit. He washes it down with a quick chase of moonshine, and tries not to think about that small detail of thoughtfulness.

"Oof," his nose still wrinkles, and he lifts himself heavily off the chair, elbow pressed to his side, keeping the icepack from slipping out, with the intention of wobbling himself over to the couch. "I'm going to feel this in the morning, huh."

The strong dose of alcohol had already made things just a little more hazy, at it were - that dulling of senses, exacerbated by the affects of adrenaline. When he finally is able to drop on the couch, it's barely with a jolt. "I'm going to figure this place out, Henry," it's a promise, hissed breathless out into the room, the smell of firewood pervading softly from the hearth. "We're barely denting the proverbial iceberg." It's like what just happened was a challenge, not a warning to back off and sit down.

[thering]

Doc starts to reach over to help steady him, and he has to force himself to stop trying to do that. Five doesn't need to be fussed over like the child's body he's inhabiting right now. He can manage, even if he shouldn't be moving around as much as he currently is.

"I know you will." Figure all this out, he means. He picks up a cushion and brings it over to where Five is sitting, laying it on the ground leaning against his couch. Doc would rather not be stuck driving the ambulance back and forth at the bottom of the cliff, but his trying to be cautious and being concerned about these people won't in good conscience allow him to do otherwise.

He brings a blanket over and drapes it over the lower half of Five's body before he thinks of maybe fetching a change of clothes. There were a few sets in Five's size in the house that's been converted into a moonshine brewery, just across the road. He's kept the door to that room closed so they should still be untouched, usable.

But first, he'll stay by Five's side until he gets some sleep. He looks like he's in desperate need of some rest, and there's plenty of time to be running around quietly after it's lights out. At least until some unholy screaming wakes him up in the ungodly early hours of the morning.

[fika]

Five figures - best start getting used to the pain now. Even if it's stupid, even if he's acting like a damn child in more ways than one. Its as though he's chasing the hope that this isn't as bad as it is.

Doc's reply, surprisingly, carries far more weight than Five could admit. It doesn't sound placating, is the thing. Maybe it is. Maybe it's just said to get him to shut up and sit down and if it is, it works.

That he still hovers around him, and doesn't look like he's about to go anywhere until Five finally falls asleep. He smirks at that, a quick little twist, leaning his head back against the cushions of the sofa, the aftertaste of willow bark still bitter on his tongue. "I'll be fine, Henry. You don't need to stick around," quiet, through the setting haze of sleep.

An unfortunate trend the Hargreeves are setting for Doc, isn't it? Still, before the exhaustion finally forces his eyes shut, he says: "And - thanks, Henry. You can - put this on my tab."