021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias.
WHEN: Days 021-023
WHAT: A cold storm approaches.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Emily Kinney & Lauren Cohan "The Parting Glass"

DAYS 021-023
THE WORLD TURNS WHITE
“Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow,
For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?”
— John Banister Tabb
The howling wind is what wakes the residents of Mathias each day now as the world turns slowly into a bleak stretch of white. Snow continues to fall in thick curtains of flakes that accumulate on trees and rooftops, swirling sideways in the gusts of wind that bow trees and whistle through any crack they can find. The drifts of snow grow taller against the buildings and the wind makes the already freezing temperatures feel bitterly cold.

By day 022, the far ends of streets begin to resemble the hazardous fog with how little becomes visible as the winds pick up. Buildings can still be discerned as dark shapes but the weather's warning becomes clear — a storm is coming. And by day 023, the storm arrives properly, the wind still screaming through the streets like a winter banshee announcing so many deaths to come. These conditions are far from hospitable and only the truly mad would be foolish enough to venture outside in weather such as this.


THE NEWLY ARRIVED
With an embrace of wintery white, Mathias offers a chilly welcome to its newest residents. They awake along the southern treeline bordering Mathias, near the small makeshift cemetery containing a handful of wooden markers erected without names or signifiers of those buried within. And not far from them is the schoolhouse, where in a snowdrift they will the frozen corpse of a young woman named Rey.

LIGHTS IN THE DARKNESS
“A lantern can give you light only when you light it”
— Munia Khan
When residents wake on the morning of day 021, they will find outside in the snow the abandoned lanterns of those shadowy spectres who have moved so silently through Mathias. Each nestled in a patch of frozen white outside their door, the lanterns are now cold to the touch, the half-burned candle within each one seeming to have been lit so very long ago. Inside the glass encasement is a small rolled piece of paper, upon which is written:

keep it lit
There is nothing more, and the prior owners of these lanterns will not return within these days.

There is one lantern waiting outside the building for each resident wherever they are sleeping — the exception for this is those who may have already claimed a lantern as their own. Removing a lantern from its resting place results in no apparent reaction, nor does lighting or not lighting it. However, whatever residents ultimately choose to do with these lanterns should be reported.

---

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— SNOW continues to fall, resulting over the three days in upwards of a foot of accumulation. The winds blow in gusts over 35 mph.

— 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 still receded from the town proper and much of the eastern and northern beach, with the path through the northern forest to the lighthouse still clear on day 021. On day 022, however, as the storm worsens, the fog returns to the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper or else.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. While Zed Martin has returned, Rey's corpse will be found in a snowdrift near the Schoolhouse; she disappeared on day 018.

— THE STRANGER is gone.

— THE SPECTRES are gone.

OOC UPDATES

— DISCOVERIES have been collected and collated for your review. Please note that this is OOC information only, put together for the purpose of helping you as players see connections and possibilities for CR and your own character's potential avenues of exploration and investigation. (If we are missing something, please report it so we can add it to the list.)

— AP REWARDS have a new option now — Ideas may be requested if you find yourself stuck. You may now claim up to 2 rewards per log: (1) idea and (1) other reward.

— SANITY may be regained in two ways: self-medication and treatment. In Mathias, this means such coping mechanisms as drinking or drugging oneself into a stupor that allows them to face their fears and issues, or talking to someone about those fears and issues. Since both of these will take some time, best get started. (A form will be added to the Sanity page.)

— REMINDERS — Don't forget about the bulletin board. Please continue reporting your updates to locations, plots, and discoveries. The map of Mathias has been added to the locations page for ease of reference. Make sure your character's sanity level is kept updated. Prospective players are still joining the TDM, so it's recommended to track new top-levels so you don't miss them.

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Comments

[conning]

[ The look Neal gives Sherlock is one Peter would recognize. It's wounded, the look of a man who knows what's right on a practical level, the practicality of it twisting the knife into his sense of what's good.

He takes a deep, slow breath, stepping back from the corpse. ]

We should mark it. Somehow. So someone who knows what they're doing can find her, so.... [ Think, Caffrey. Focus. He turns his attention to Sherlock, the mans word's finally clicking more firmly. ] You're a cop?

[cluing]

God, no. Can you imagine?

[ That sounds positively horrible. Sherlock doesn't think he'd survive, being surrounded by Andersons at every turn. ]

Which means that I absolutely know what I'm doing.

[ But given the weather conditions, it's hard to tell if it's a new body or if the cold has simply preserved it. It'd be much easier if Sherlock knew how long the weather's been like this.

He wonders if it's really foul play or if she died of natural causes, if someone purposely put her here for them to find or it's simply the wrong place at the wrong time. ]

Of course the snow's covered up anything that may be of use.

[conning]

[ Neal laughs very quietly at Sherlock's response. It's a humorless noise, really, something to push back against the silence of the falling snow.

He's shivering. He's shivering, and these clothes weren't made for weather this cold. Neither one of them are going to do anyone any good if they freeze out here, least of all for this girl in the snow.

He wades through the powder to the edge of the woods, finding a branch tall enough that it will hopefully not be covered even if things keep on this way. It's not much, but it will serve as an indicator of where the body is.

He can't bring himself to look at the girl again as he jams it into the frozen dirt near her head.

He nods to the other man, before focusing on Sherlock's original destination. ]

Bound to be warmer in there. I'm Neal.

[cluing]

[ For the best, really. The snow will cover her and the branch will give them a way to find her again, once it melts a bit and hopefully they can recover something around her when visibility is better.

Sherlock's not entirely convinced the dead body is much use to them right now anyway. ]

Sherlock.

[ He makes his way up the steps and into the school, letting the silence fall around him save for the sound of the wind whistling against the windows.

Interesting. ]

[conning]

[ The silence is giving Neal the creeps. As though the body wasn't enough to do that on its own. The company isn't exactly helping, either.

He lets Sherlock go into the building first. Waits a moment. Then follows.

What?

Neal eases himself into the hallway, taking in their surroundings. He keeps his voice low, though he's not sure why. ]

How very Children of the Corn.

[cluing]

What?

[ Sherlock is, admittedly, barely listening. His eyes are scanning everything immediate once you step into the school, the stairs and the doors leading to classrooms and offices. Everything looks undisturbed but not new.

The words the Neal says though, while Sherlock understands each individually, mean nothing to him when strung together that way. ]

[conning]

[ A pause. ]

Children of the Corn. Stephen King? [ He gestures at their surroundings. ] Town apparently abandoned save for the pre-pubescent corn-worshipping executioners?

[ He leans in to inspect one of the bulletin boards, the text on it all but unreadable. ] If Malachi shows up, you get to do the talking.

[cluing]

[ The reference and explanation are entirely lost of Sherlock. He thinks that if John were here, he'd understand.

Sherlock hums a little, also walking to the bulletin board even as his gaze continues sweeping the hall. ]

I was thinking something along the lines of Chernobyl. Whole town evacuated with no time to properly pack up? Maybe not a nuclear threat, but similarly dire.

[conning]

Somehow, even less comforting.

[ Neal frowns, looking around. Ceiling, hall, stairs. He moves past Sherlock to open a classroom door, studying the hinges as it squeaks slowly inward. ] These were maintained, at least until whatever happened here.

[ He steps inside, studying the children's artwork tacked up along one wall. Goosebumps prickle up along his arms. There isn't a single picture where the signature isn't smudged beyond recognition. He rests his finger next to one of the blurred marks. ] Apparently their teachers didn't approve of taking credit for your work.

[cluing]

[ Sherlock isn't entirely convinced this is a real school house. Absolutely the building is very real, but he's not discounting the fact that this is a very elaborate set up. It's not out of the realm of possibility.

The lack of names is just part of the puzzle.

Does the dead woman outside have anything to do with it? ]

Or someone's simply got too much time on their hands.

[conning]

[ Neal looks over at him, somewhere between confused and surprised. ]

Meaning what? This is a bit elaborate for a diorama.

[cluing]

You'd be amazed the lengths some people will go to.

[ After all, Moriarty had played quite the long con. Sherlock wouldn't put it past him - or something like him - to put together something like this. ]

Though if one were to fancy themselves a vandal, then a day spent erasing names seems as good as any.

[conning]

A very OCD vandal. Who doesn't mind a little carpal tunnel.

[ He straightens up, shaking his head. ] Why would someone fake a schoolhouse?