villagelogs | 021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Apologies, Obi-Wan. I didn't know there was more than one of us around.

[ Thank god. ]

I'm at the boarding house for the time being--why, your New Yorker was a squatter?

Y'all are gainin' in number, as a matter of fact.

[Welcome to the Country Census?]

Some find the ride in a little.. jarrin'. [That was, distinctly, a flat out lie, but damned if Raylan was going to be the one to crack open any cans that were none of his business to be cracking.]

Hell, first night all of us showed up, we huddled in the Grey Gull til we warmed up. Cold seems to be a theme.

[Now that they'd both warmed up a little, fractionally less huddled into themselves, Raylan noticed the bulkiness on Neal's ankle and, having seen plenty in his lifetime, knew what it was. Unless this was something else that was fantastically impossible - hell, maybe there was a 0.3 percent chance Neal wore a brace that just so happen to jut in that shape.]

But I take it squattin' wasn't your problem.

It... wasn't pleasant, no.

[ He can't help flashing back to Rey's face, those staring eyes, frozen open against a backdrop of snow.

He clears his throat.

And then Raylan goes and says that, and it can only mean one thing. Neal quirks his lips into a not-quite-smile. He's been outed. He really needs to get the anklet off. ]

Quite the contrary. The FBI made very sure I would stay where I was put.

[Raylan's eyebrows lifted in interest, free hand coming to rest on crookedly tilted hips.]

The Feebs, huh? Pain in the ass, but it could be worse. [He could be getting tracked by Marshals.]

I won't ask how you got it, but I can't imagine you're gonna want to wear that while you're here. Once the shit blows over, if you ain't got it off, come by the house. We got a butter knife we been sharpenin' that might just do the trick.

[White Collar crime, if he had to guess.] How long you been on a leash?

[ Neal raises an eyebrow, somehow taken off-guard. That’s not the reaction he usually gets, particularly not from someone who recognizes the anklet for what it is, particularly not when that person all but screams ‘law.’ ]

Pain in the ass maybe, but I wouldn’t want to work for anyone else. After all, the ‘Feebs’ are the only ones who ever caught up with me. [ He can’t help himself. He’s testing, trying to find out what outfit Raylan is with without outright asking.

A pause. He debates. Mentally shrugs. There’s no long-term benefit to lying here, as far as he can tell. ]

Depends. Are we counting my stay in supermax or just the time I’ve been sporting the finest in the federal autumn line?

No accountin' for taste or skill on their part, I suppose. [Raylan retorted. No one but the FBI liked the FBI and for a good reason. They were bureaucratic assholes.]

Let's start with Supermax and get to the sleek fashion accessories. I guess I lied, I'm sorry about that- [Again, that long index finger came out to gesture at Neal.] - I am gonna ask - what were you in for? Manhattan has me bettin' on theft or fraud, either way, I'm sure it involves trips to Europe on some poor bastards dime.

No offence.

None taken. [ No one gets to insult Peter’s people but him okay.

Now, though, Neal is all but positive that this guy is on the federal payroll, which narrows things down. Not a denizen of the penitentiary system—he doesn’t have that particular air of corrupt sympathy—which leaves...

Neal grins slowly. ] I think it has less to do with taste and more to do with palate in this case.

[ An expansive shrug. ] But then the US Marshals didn’t even find a scent until they called Peter in, after I broke out of Supermax. That’s Special Agent Peter Burke, if we’re being formal.

[ Neal tucks his hands into his pockets. ] Four years on the inside. Broke out, landed another four, negotiated a deal for what we’ll call work-release. I'm about a year and a half in to my second chance.

I was convicted for bond forgery. [ A pause. A little quirk of his lips that is an undeniably smug smile. ] Let’s just say there was never enough evidence for the courts to appreciate the full scope of my work.

Edited 2020-12-24 08:37 (UTC)

[Oh, the No offence was for Europe, not the FBI.

As Neal continued, Raylan's eyebrows arched again, friendly idle smile hooked on his lips as though Neal was conveying an interesting casserole recipe and not bragging. But Raylan wasn't going to stop him; let the man tell his story!]

Broke out, huh? Impressive. Shame they didn't send you down to our offices, we do love to show up the other agencies. So you're a high class thief. Still makes you a thief. [As he said it, the smile broke into a broad, charmingly pleased grin.]

You aren't gonna find much around this town worth stealin' though, so I'm not to worried about it. Everyone's money is safe at home. [And didn't it just warm your soul. The breaking out of prison bit was more impressive than anything else Neal had said, and it was painfully clear.]

Edited (icon change) 2020-12-24 22:11 (UTC)

Allegedly. Well, allegedly to the thief part. I was never convicted of theft. [ A megawatt smile and a long shrug.

But since Raylan isn’t shutting him down: ] If you like that I broke out, you’ll love that I did it with a guard’s uniform I bought with the warden’s wife’s credit card.

Uh-huh. [ There were no courts here to respectfully attend to the language, but he'd let Neal protest as much as he want.

His face 'eh'd with a bob as he answered. Oh yeah, he'd do this shit all day. There was no Boyd here to Law at and honestly, Raylan was waiting for one of their number to be on the other side.]

The guard uniform is old hat. Knock someone out, create a distraction, slip out the front door. The wife's credit card is a little harder, technically speakin' though I suppose if you're smart enough to use the phones.

I'd ask why you wouldn't put that kinda skill to a better use, but I got an idea of the answer already.

You say old hat, I say classic. No roughing anyone up or distractions necessary. And there’s a certain irony to someone holding the front door open for you that’s just... [ He makes a noise like he just taste-tested something particularly delicious.

Neal looks down, his smile turning more genuine and somehow shyer and gentler because of it. ]

Peter beat you to the question. [ He looks up again. ] I wouldn’t call myself reformed, but I get to call a con a “sting” now.

Not that old, are ya? [Not even a fleck of grey that Raylan could see at Neal's temple. He'd put him at 34 to 36 at the most.

But the softness on Neal's face that came with the mention of Peter suggested a solid relationship, though how far that went would remain to be seen. It almost made him believe that Neal was on a path towards reform.

Well, that would remain to be seen too. This Peter guy didn't trust Neal enough to not ankle cuff him, so..]

So does that mean you're a chained operative or a CI?

Old enough to know better. So I'm told. [ He's perfectly chipper when he says it. Raylan is spot on, in fact--he's 34. And the softness is gone now, replaced with his usual polished shine. ]

CI. Though they let me off-leash from time to time for undercover work when they need a specialist who doesn't mind getting their hands dirty.

Mm-hmm. [Old enough to know better, ballsy enough to not care, if Raylan had to guess. But it meant that Neal didn't have the same kind of.. homegrown education, if he had to bet money.]

Well if you're still workin' for them, you must be doin' your job right. Year and a half in - how much longer they keepin' you around for before cuttin' you loose?

[It always varied, depending on the crime, on the DA and on size of the fish Neal was catching.]

94% case closure rate. Best in the country. [ He looks down again. It's one of Neal's biggest tells--when he lies, he doesn't look away. ] And uh. Not sure. I was in the middle of a commutation hearing when this little adventure started, so I'm hoping they don't think I went AWOL.

Better than some agents out in the field. [Now that was impressive. His tone suggested 'Not bad'. TO be expected though, the Marshal's were known for getting their man and so likewise respected those that could.]

If we ever find a way to get outta this place, you've at least got a US Marshal to back up your story. [As cynical as Raylan was about the people he knew would never really give up the life that they'd chosen, he tried to give those taking that second shot a real and proper chance at it. Even if very often, he ended up unsurprised to find them at the other end of his gun again.]

Or we can lie and say I conscripted ya. Either way, I ain't here to give you a hard time about.. what it is you're comin' from doin'. [Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't watch Neal like a hawk when he felt it necessary.] Seems a little dumb to get a hard-on for keepin' those kinda laws in a place like this. Survivin'll be more important.

[ Neal looks up at Raylan again, head tilted, a smile on his face that's as genuine as it is surprised. ]

You are... definitely not the usual when it comes to my encounters with the US Marshals Service. Of course, my last direct run-in involved a corrupt marshal selling WITSEC information who then tried to kill me, so maybe my usual isn't standard.

[Raylan smiled and this time it lacked the sense of arrogant authority before he lifted his eyebrows a little and huffed with a shake of his head.]

Nothin' worse than people like that. Usin' the badge as a shield to do whatever they hell they want. But the Marshal's service is fulla guys like me. In one shade of flavor or another.

But like I said, come by the house and I'll help you get that piece of jewelry off, if you want. And if it makes you feel any better, this place didn't let me keep my gun so me killin' you is.. 85% less likely.

"Good to know. I'm a fan of scenarios where I'm 85% less likely to die. And... thank you."

He hesitates to ask his next question. What's the point? It'll happen or it won't, and Neal will face judgment or he won't.

"Are you going to tell people? About me?"

Raylan waved off the thanks and curled a little further into his jacket with a tug of the lapels, eyeing the hesitation he was sensing.

"Not unless you give me reason to, I suppose. Man's got a right to prove himself on the straight and narrow without some asshole like me goin' in ahead of you to put ideas into people's heads." No, if they decided Neal was an asshole or not worth the knowing, they'd do it on their own.

"You don't give me reason, that won't have to change. Lemme ask you somethin'. You ain't see a guy, about yay tall" Five five if it was an inch. "Looks a little antsy, talks a little too much?"

"You really aren't the usual. In my experience." A faint smile. "Which is a compliment."

The change of topic takes Neal a little off-guard, but he's more than willing to roll with it. He's not sure how to handle a lawman that takes him on his own terms. "Haven't, no. That who you're looking for?"

"I ain't even the usual in my office-" But that was more due to the trouble he caused. "-But they don't make 'em out of Harlan like they do everywhere else."

The culture alone. But he didn't much like talking about himself and the time he spent here was time that he wasn't finding Malcolm.

He nodded again. "Yeah. Goes by Malcolm Bright. He's been missin' since early this mornin'. Normally doesn't leave out without tellin' us and this place has already put five of us down. I ain't lookin' to make it six if I can help it."

Raylan took a deep breath and adjusted his hat. "Not the best welcome wagon, I'll admit."

Enlightenment strikes. Neal can't believe he didn't put two and two together before now, but then he has been off his game.

"You're one of the cowboys. He-- wait, Malcolm is missing?"

Raylan's forehead pinched, chin lifting a little in his confusion.

"So you do know him. Apparently, I'm hat one of two. Or two of two, doesn't really matter." No, he was much more focused on this sudden gift of context to Neal that he was left out of.

Edited 2020-12-28 03:49 (UTC)

"I think our standards for 'talking a little too much' are different. I met him, yeah. Yesterday afternoon, when I was first settling in."

A pause. "Which isn't to say I'm remotely settled, but that's beside the point. He's the one who told me to be careful about going off alone."

021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

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