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

"Fairly sure there's no real stopping or starting point in this goddamn town."

John is sitting at the table again, papers spread out. The useless papers. The ones that really have no point in being around anymore. Nothing can be found or taken from them. He rolls his lighter absent minded in his hand, the lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

No answers really on this forsaken town. No indication on anything, really. How or why they're chosen, how or why they disappear. Everything is dead end after dead end.

"I could use some whiskey about now." He admits more to himself than the man that's joining him.

"That's fair. At least, I can't argue with that."

He moves in closer, eyes taking in the array of papers on the table, but he also knows that there's probably nothing revelatory about them.

"You're in luck, though, because I come bearing gifts." He holds up three bottles of moonshine that he picked up before he stopped by here.

He looked up at the word of 'gift.' God, he was really hoping Coulson had somehow found whiskey. His face scrunched up ever so slightly.

"Not going to lie, mate. Gettin' a bit tired of tasting the gasoline. Suppose beggars can't be choosers, eh?" John nodded in thanks regardless. "The hell you planning on doing with three of them?"

If he had whiskey, he would have brought it, because friends share. As it is, he just has the moonshine, and he hopes it's not too much of a disappointment.

John's expression and his words confirm as much, though, and he shrugs and sighs. "Sorry, I wish I had something better, but it's a long walk to the liquor store." He tries to inject some humor into his words, though, because around here, they probably all could use more of that.

"I wasn't going to drink them all myself, if that's what you were wondering. I thought I might find someone to share them with, and here you are." All right, so he wasn't going to share them with just anyone. He might have picked them up solely to bring to town hall and have a drink with John. Maybe.

"Long walk meaning probably in the next bloody town over. If there is another town." He went along with it playfully.

It wasn't as if he was mad at Coulson. They were doing what they could to get by. Short of being able to make crops and just brew their own damn whiskey. Doubt that one would happen. The ground was frozen and the damn seasons seemed to last as long as weeks not months.

"Oh, well, lucky me. What have I done to receive such an honor?" John sat himself down in the chair he was standing in front of. A long sigh came from him and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He probably should tell Coulson the best news he'd heard in a few days. "Zed's back. Klaus found her around town... like I found Daisy walking around."

Not that he really knew Daisy and Coulson knew one another. It was more just a fact of relating events.

"Exactly what I was thinking." Down to the question of whether or not anything else beyond this town existed. Logically, it makes sense to conclude that. There's no reason to believe something as far-fetched as the idea that Mathias was just plopped down here in the middle of nowhere. That's as close to lunacy as it's possible to get. "Even if there was, there's no guarantee we could even reach it."

Even if Constantine was mad, well, it was bound to happen with all of them in such close quarters and with concrete answers and information being limited or nonexistent. Tensions have erupted in better conditions, and Coulson figures it's only a matter of time before one explosion or another happens.

"Well, you seem like a solid guy, and you have good ideas." And weirdly enough, Coulson enjoys his company. That's reason enough for him. But then he lights up with a grin when the other man mentions Zed. "That's good to hear. And she's all right?"

His smile drops a bit at the mention of Daisy, however. Sure, she's returned, and they mostly patched things up after their fight, but that doesn't really do anything for the pinpricks of regret or the worry he has for her continued safety in this town. "I'm glad that they're back, and hopefully both in one piece."

At least Daisy was, and he hopes the same for Zed.

Unless for some reason this was an island in the middle of the bloody ocean, off the coast of one of those north eastern states. The thought had crossed John's mind. It was a fishing town -- or it had a large business in fishing. No docks to be seen but a lighthouse so far. Nothing but trees? Maybe they fashioned themselves a little island paradise and it went tits up.

"Sooner you accept I'm not that outstanding of a citizen, Coulson, the better you're going to handle things down the road." John said simply. He knew he'd fuck something up eventually. It was just in his nature. "Yeah... was a bit confused on the loss of time... same as Daisy."

He noticed the quick turn of tone in that. His hand dropped from his face, eyes squinting just enough to wonder what was really going on in that professionalism that reeked of government. It never much bothered John. For as punk as he was? There wasn't the law or government to get in his way in Mathias. A small blessing, that.

"Somethin' goin' on between you and Daisy I ought to know about?"

Edited 2021-01-03 04:49 (UTC)

Well, for all they know, that could be true. It's not like the proof of that is staring them right in the face or anything. For one, there's just the lighthouse, which might imply they're near water, but how are they supposed to go about proving that? It's something he planned to keep in the back of his mind in case the opportunity to explore past the boundaries opens up.

"Sorry. I'm not that good at accepting that kind of thing," Coulson admitted in response. "I've worked alongside too many people who insisted on that very thing to actually believe it." Not all of them turned out to be strictly on the straight and narrow, and some had more gray areas than others, but could anyone really say they were all 100% good 100% of the time?

Of course he picked up on that. He wasn't being very subtle about it, and that was probably the biggest indicator that something was bothering him. Ordinarily, he tried not to let anything show through that professional veneer, but his ability to keep a stiff upper lip was starting to crack at the seams.

"Not unless you're good at settling interpersonal drama. But that's what I'm supposed to be good at, so if I can't manage it, where does that leave me?" Nowhere, that's where.

Beach, lighthouss,lighthouse, ut it was the matter of how much water? Was this an inlet? Mathias never seemed to really be interested in giving them complete answers. It was more than annoying.

But, John was too tired to fight more with it for now. His ribs ached something fierce. The problem was wearing on him. His magic was in a tizzy. Nothing really seemed to go right.

He narrowed his eyes just a bit. "Bit early for personally drama, isn't it? We've only been here a month."

Coming from the man who died and had two breakdowns around people he trusted.

As far as Coulson's concerned, it bypassed annoying and went straight to infuriating. But just going around angry all the time wasn't good for getting things done, so he just tried compartmentalizing that maddening feeling and focusing on what was right in front of him. Not that that was any clearer; in fact, it was about as clear as mud.

Coulson might not be sporting broken ribs, but he's more than a little tired as well. Not enough to give up, but enough that a long, long nap sounds like the best thing in the world. But of course, there's no time for that.

"I didn't intend for this to happen. No one ever does, anyway, but then I died and she vanished, and I guess that was just one too many deaths for her." He knows that won't make sense to John; it barely makes sense to him.

Muddy water. Not even the kind someone could drink.

Ah, God. Someone find him and his working mate here a way to knock themselves out for a few days. John would kiss whoever could do that. It was better that than before he started picking an actual fight with someone out of the need to feel productive in some manner.

An eyebrow lofted at that. Died, vanished, one too many deaths. That's the bit that stuck out to him. Either Coulson had a knack for dying, or, the two had gotten cozy in a month. Very cozy.

"I suppose that means you and Daisy come from the same reality?" What, the worst he could be is wrong. "At least you're here together. Misery loves company."

Honestly, if that happened, it would be well received. Being knocked out for a few days really would be vastly preferable to anything else that might happen if he were to start acting out out of sheer boredom or stir-craziness or whatever anyone wanted to call it.

He saw that raised eyebrow, and he just shrugged his shoulders in response. "See, I wish that you could say that and have it be completely accurate. To hear her tell it, there's five years separating us, so we might be here together, but we're definitely not on the same page."

Then he rolled his eyes. "Not to be all dramatic, but I really don't think she wants to talk to me or knows how to anymore. Who would have thought that communication could be so hard?" That last question was more wry and tongue-in-cheek than anything else, because Coulson knew that actually really talking could be easier said than done. And right now, he and Daisy weren't really on the same wavelength at all.

"But you got that last part right. I don't know about her, but I'm plenty miserable." He was just good at compartmentalizing it.

"Ahead in the time stream and you're laggin' behind. Ah, shit." John sighed and leaned back in the chair he sat in. "Seems like Zed and I come from more or less the same point. Makes things a bit easier, but, we've all got our baggage, eh?"

John lifted his eyebrows at the roll of the eyes, but, surprisingly said nothing. He let the man get it out of his system. An arm draped over the back of the chair, a leg raised to rest against the knee. He kept his eyes on Coulson. Obviously things weren't fantastic for him. John couldn't say they had been for him. Zed and he got into a fight then he died. That's pretty far from fantastic.

"Well, how about we be miserable together, yeah? Two blokes just toughin' it out in a bloody mad town that might drag us into her madness."

"Yeah, and I think because of that, she feels like she can't tell me anything because it'll be too much for me." He crossed his arms and sighed as well, because this whole thing was too complicated even for him. "She doesn't have to tell me everything, but it seems like she's walling herself off and I don't know what to make of it." Forcing her to talk wouldn't work; he already knew that. "You could say that again, though."

And really, things weren't fantastic for anyone, as far as Coulson was concerned.

"Honestly, that's not a bad plan. If it is a plan," he added with a dry laugh. "You're not bad company, you know. Two blokes it is." He couldn't help but borrow that word, and it felt funny saying it, but he didn't think the other man would mind.

John shrugged. "Might be too much. You'll never know till you get your toes a little wet. Maybe with someone like her it's just best till she comes to you. A bit like a cat. She'll come to you when she's ready. The thing is - what are you doing to do in the mean time?"

It was his way of asking if Coulson was still committed to the search. Bumps in the road could shake a person here and there. He just wanted to make sure that Coulson wasn't so emotionally knotted up that he wanted to drop it all.

"Oh, that's just because you haven't found yourself in the crosshairs yet, mate. Just give it some time."

"You're probably right. We both handled it wrong, but I definitely misstepped." He shook his head, feeling more than a little annoyed at himself, and not for the first time either. "I told her I thought it was best if we took a break, gave each other some space, but she took that suggestion badly. I don't think it's a bad idea, though." Considering how heated their tempers were getting, part of him believed it was the right call, regardless of how she reacted.

"In the mean time, don't we have some things to sort out here?" Things such as information gathering and dissemination, which were both more important than Coulson and his relationship troubles. But he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at John's last comment.

"That sounds ominous. What do you mean?"

"Hmm. Well, mate. I'm not much of a person to ask for advice. All I can offer is an impossible mystery to bang your bloody skull against in hopes that it might move." He let a sprawling grin take his face. "Not much to go on here. Seems like anything important was either never kept here, or they moved it out at some point. Of course they did. Why would anything here be simple?"

He pulled his feet from the table and stood then.

"Everyone around me dies or is hurt at some point. Just giving you the warning now."

"Well, considering that nothing here seems all that interested in moving without some encouragement- That doesn't sound like a terrible idea." He put on a wry sort of grin of his own, because hey, his usual methods haven't been working, so he figured it was about time he tried something else. "I didn't expect that anything here would be simple, really, but I thought that maybe if we looked around enough, something would shake itself loose. I guess I was wrong."

And then he looked at John with a vaguely questioning sort of look. He wouldn't pry if he made it clear he didn't want to talk about it, but Coulson couldn't really let that go uncommented on either.

"Thanks for the warning, but the way I see it, I'm on borrowed time already. No one lives forever, right? Might as well do something interesting or useful with your time while you have it."

"You may need to do most the heavy lifting." John grinned tightly, his ribs tinging at the thought. He really shouldn't have pushed that bookcase over with Half-Dead Elena. Not that had a single regret. He rubbed his ribs at the memory.

"Borrowed time, eh? I wonder what sort of trouble a man on borrowed time and a man damned to Hell could get into."

"Yeah? I guess I can manage that. No offense, but you look like you could use a break." But as far as Coulson can tell, John has a pretty good poker face. In his experience, though, the better poker face someone has, the more they actually need someone to either back them up or do their best to get them to stand down, even if that means keeping them in one place.

"My guess is, a lot. I don't know about you, but after awhile, your sense of self-preservation starts to decrease, sometimes without you even knowing it's happening." It's been a gradual thing for Coulson, anyway, and he hasn't always noticed it, but then he does something that's not exactly recommended for anyone wanting to stay alive.

But that's the point: he's already died once, so something in his priorities shifted. It's not a death wish, just an increase in his risk-taking side.

John shrugged. "I could use a proper pack of cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a bloody brilliant night in bed.Had one of those recently, so, you can enjoy figuring out what when and where."

He chuckled. "I haven't got much self-preservation left."

After all, he did offer a demon a ride in his body if it meant saving his own skin.

John pushed himself to stand. He patted his shirt and clothes down, nabbing his trenchcoat and putting it on. With a gesture he expected the man to follow him. Time to go see what secrets might be hiding here in Town Hall.

"I aim to keep as many as you lot alive as long as I can."

"You know, with all the buildings there are around here, it's a shame that there isn't a special store that contains all the things we miss from home or elsewhere." Coulson was being facetious, because such a thing couldn't exist, but he would be lying if he said he didn't want a magical store that just had all their wants appear on the shelves. "A night in bed, well- Unfortunately, I can't help you with that one." And then his grin turned mischievous. "The way I see it, just because we're stuck in this town in the middle of who-knows-where doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves."

Except "we" was a stretch, because Coulson wasn't looking for those kinds of attachments. That didn't mean that he wasn't happy for John, though. "I'll leave the what, when, and where to the imagination. Or not. I'm just glad you had a good time."

Coulson got the gesture loud and clear, and he got ready to follow John wherever he was going. "No arguments here. Lack of self-preservation or not, I'm good on the whole 'not-dying' part, and I don't want to see anyone else kick the bucket either."

"Ah, yes. The store that would solve all our ills. Too bad Mathias hates us too much, eh? Fickle, isn't she?" He chuckled. "And how does a suit like you go about enjoying himself? No real alcohol to ah, calm the nerves after a long day of pencil pushing."

It was all done in jest, really. John had nothing against Coulson.

"The deaths we have are enough." John agreed. Though, lack of self-preservation? He understood that one. "How about was start in the back? Bit of a short walk that way."

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021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

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