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

[cholesterol]

Dean kicks away from him, almost hitting an end table with his arms. He stretches his legs next, below him, as he looks up at Malcolm in his house.

"BAU," he says, looking up at him. "How'd you get in my house."

[abrightboy]

“.....BAU?” Malcolm questioned.

[cholesterol]

"Behavioral Analysis Unit. Criminal Minds," he half-slurs, trying to sit up.

"You stalking me?"

[abrightboy]

“I live up the street. You fell on your face.” A beat. “Sorry, was that what you were trying to do?”

[cholesterol]

He hears your voice, Malcolm. He knows what a tone is. If he had the luxury to not appreciate it, he wouldn't. But, that's not happening. Not much is happening besides Dean just dropping back down to the ground again.

"Yeah, that was my plan, to faceplant into the snow."

[abrightboy]

“The air is subfreezing at the moment. Exposed skin in the snow could develop frostbite in as little as twenty minutes. In the meantime, your body heat would be melting the snow under you, soaking your clothes. Left outside in these temperatures in wet clothes, hypothermia sets in shortly after that. If you remained outdoors any longer, facedown in the snow in wet clothes, your subsequent death from exposure would remove any need for you to be concerned about frostbite on your face. I guess that’s the good news part. Do you have a coffee pot of any kind?” Malcolm asked.

[cholesterol]

"Where coffeepots live," he says, raking his hands down his face. He doesn't need a lecture. He knows it was a close-call. He'll thank the guy after his coffee kicks in, but before passing out. He sees that in his future, too. The world stops spinning long enough for Dean to use the side table he usually puts his keys on to pull himself to his feet. Once his vision comes together, he follows Bright into the kitchen, pulling the afghan from the couch and wrapping it around himself.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm takes that to mean ‘the kitchen somewhere’, and heads there, looking through cupboards until he finds coffee.

“Do you take anything in it?” he asks over his shoulder as Dean shuffles in behind him.

[cholesterol]

The coffee is on the counter, next to the coffeepot, which he'll probably find last since he's checking cabinets. Dean slides down into a chair by the table, pulling the blanket up over his head like a Russian grandmother.

"Cream. Sugar. There's milk in the fridge." He also takes it black, too. He should probably have just said, make it black.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm wouldn't have been surprised if Dean had said black. As it stands, he's surprised the man is even admitting to taking cream and sugar in coffee. Isn't that... precious in some way? He seems like the type to take it black and then slip in some cream and sugar when nobody is looking.

Malcolm retrieves them and puts them on the table by Dean, then goes back to getting the coffee brewing.

"Did the moonshine put you on your face or are you doing your own brewing?"

[cholesterol]

"Moonshine."

Now's not the time to let Malcolm know that just below him under the sink are five storage sized ziplock of fermented wine. But, considering his one-time track record that Malcolm's seen, he'd sooner confiscate his stash than give him the kudos he deserves.

He wonders if Cas felt him, felt Dean's skin cooling to the touch. If Cas can hear him now if he prays.

He doesn't pray. He doesn't want him to worry.

Now there are two of Malcolm again as he slides back on his chair, but only briefly.

"That moonshine really slaps you in the face."

[abrightboy]

“Yeah, it’s... not strictly what one might call ‘safe for human consumption’,” Malcolm noted, turning around to lean on the counter while the coffee brewed.

[cholesterol]

"Like I'm anything but." Sure, he looks and walks and talks like a human. But, his borderline personality disorder, his repression, and his inhuman skill at tearing something apart might beg to differ.

Bright can interpret that in whichever way he pleases as Dean's gaze falls on the one Bright.

"I've drank worse."

And more.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm would never classify mental illness as dehumanizing. That would sure put him in that boat.

"But you're not usually alone," Malcolm pointed out, making a reasonable guess. Dean had been quick to collect the people who came from his world. "You usually have someone to catch you before you fall face first in the snow."

[cholesterol]

"I pass out on floors or in beds," he says, simple. He doesn't go face first into the snow. Mostly in beds. And in this case, he flops forward, his arms propping up his chin.

"Is this you shrinking me again?"

[abrightboy]

“It’s me shrinking you still,” he corrected. “I’m always shrinking everybody,” he pointed out lightly, pouring coffee into the mugs.

He set one in front of Dean with a spoon.

[cholesterol]

The spoon goes untouched as he sits up, wraps his hands around the mug and brings it to his lips.

"Have all the fun you want." He doesn't have to participate. Malcolm can say all he wants.

[abrightboy]

“It’s not for my amusement, Dean. I’m just. Interested in people,” Malcolm explained.

[cholesterol]

"Sure. Keep your interest on that side of the table," he says, tipping the mug in his direction briefly before taking another, longer sip.

[abrightboy]

“Do you keep people so aggressively at arms’ length because they hurt you or because they get hurt around you?” Malcolm asks, taking a sip of coffee.

[cholesterol]

"Guess," he replies, sitting forward again as he sets the mug back down. He's not about to give Bright what he wants, nor is he about to make this any easier.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm studies the set of his jaw for a moment. What he wants? Conversation? No, he's sure not making it easier, but that happens a lot.

"If I had to guess, I'd guess a bit of both."

He really just wanted to keep Dean chatting until the danger of alcohol poisoning passed.

"If you're always aggressive, nobody can get close enough to hurt you and nobody can be close enough to get hurt because of you." A beat. "And yet? You're not used to being alone."

[cholesterol]

"I'm not used to it?" he asks, shifting so he can drink from his cup without burning or dribbling down his chin. He's been alone plenty. It's called alone-time. He has a Dean Cave and everything. But, Dean knows what Malcolm is getting at. Can he really see his codependency from here?

[abrightboy]

He sees layers of defence mechanisms buried between layers of coping mechanisms. He wouldn’t label it codependence without context, but it’s clear Dean is missing something that balances this recklessness out. A person would make the most sense. Someone in his life that tempers his worst impulses so he doesn’t die in a snowbank.

“No. You’d be dead out in the world, if this was how you faced it alone.”

Nevermind hunting dangerous creatures; his own tendencies would have done him in.

[cholesterol]

"You don't think I'm capable of taking care of myself," he says, with a very small, shaved off leg to barely stand on. "I meant it. I don't die in snowbanks." He dies in other ways. Once, over a hundred times. He doesn't owe Bright anything. "I kill things in snowbanks. Or bury them. Kill them. Then bury them."

THat's what he does.