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

[bestfuneralever]

"Good." He breathes out softly. The sharp angles of rigidity in his body visibly relax at that affirmation. Everything's fine. Or at least whatever constitutes as 'fine' in this place, and isn't that all they could ask for at this point? He sinks a little heavier into the pillows propped behind him.

The question earns his brother a soft, amused scoff and he shakes his head. "I- the other day, Five. I'm... I'm fine. I- I'm used to," he waves one hand vaguely, trying to collect his thoughts. "not sleeping. M'good. Promise." The smile he goes for looks plastic as any Mom had ever worn.

[fika]

Five isn't good at this. He isn't good at heart to hearts. That has always been Klaus, who cared a little more than the rest, who was sensitive in ways that made it easier to unravel into a mess.

And how much of that had Five brought onto him, here? There is still the idea of fault and guilt and the reluctance to relinquish it. That somehow, Five's actions or oversight had resulted in his brother's appearance here, in having to bare witness to corpses and loneliness and fear and he isn't naive enough to think himself capable of ridding all that which made up the majority of their childhoods, of their lives. But his self-loathing runs deep enough to know where to lay his blame.

"That's bullshit," that saccharine smile might work on others, Klaus. He knows the other day was five days ago. His hard stare would say as much.

Slowly, he perches himself on the corner of Klaus' bed. "You haven't slept in days." His approaches have always been heavy handed, but to his credit, his voice doesn't rise into a higher pitch. "And expert that you are, I don't need to remind you the effects of sleep deprivation, do I?"

There will be a long pause, before he can bring himself to ask: "What happened, Klaus?"

[bestfuneralever]

He frowns, though it's more of a pout at being called out than anything else. "Is not," he mumbles argumentatively, arms folding across his chest.

As Five sinks down onto the corner of the bed, Klaus' brow pinches into a soft frown. His brother's voice is so... Klaus isn't sure what it is, but it's different, somehow. For some reason. "I swear, I- I'm f... I'm fine, Five..." But it's just not convincing with the raccoon eyes that are not a makeup choice, but a side effect, and the exhaustion keeping his voice a little too soft.

He falls quiet for a long time after Five's question. He doesn't really want to admit what's been running through his mind these last few days. Five will think it's stupid. It probably is, but he can't help it. It's this giant, all-consuming thing that started as a gentle gnaw in the pit of his stomach and turned into something of a blackhole that threatened to swallow him the longer it when on. He fidgets, staring down at the mattress and twisting the sheet between his fingers, so reluctant to put a voice to the feeling that's been eating him up.

"It's... just..." The words catch in his throat and burn in his chest from the way he holds them, and his breath, there for just a little too long before he sighs out, "this feeling..." he pulls his legs tight toward his chest, resting his cheek against his knees. "Like. I-I don't know. I don't- it's just...bad." Which doesn't make any sense, and sounds a lot like a toddler trying to explain a bad dream.

"If I sleep, then... then something's gonna happen. To me. To you. I-I don't know, but I can feel it, Five." He's too tired to try to do anything like regulate his emotions (and he's always been bad at that anyway, even without far too many hours of sleep deprivation under his feet), so when he says that last bit, his eyes flood, his vision suddenly too blurry to make out the features of his brother's face until he blinks and the tears slide across the bridge of his nose, down his cheek and onto his knees. "I'm scared, Five... I don't want anything else to happen to you..."

[fika]

This did feel too much like when they were kids. At thirteen, Five already remembers the foundations that ensured who Klaus would become - the blunts at the dinner table, the alcohol bottles snuck into drawers to numb the worst of it away. Nightmares were old friends, and perhaps the oldest with Klaus, ghosts and shadows that solidified his brother's proficiencies at false bravado and sun-bright bullshit.

None of that was to be found here, with Klaus' long limbs bent in angles that make him seem so small. It's especially difficult for Five not to feel his age - the oldest by so many years. That he ought to shoulder the brunt of all of this, and ensure the safety of the family he loves very much.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he says stiffly. This wasn't on Klaus. This all started because of his mistake, of the fog, of this place. That's his bone to pick. And he knows now, with a startling sort of clarity, that if he doesn't try and take matters into his own hands now, later may be too late.

Guess they're both afraid of the same thing.

"Not to me, either." He says it with confidence. The sort of confidence you wear when you're ready to pull the trigger. Ends and means.

For all of the distance and claimed callousness, Five hates to see what state his brother is in. This isn't fair, he thinks. He shouldn't be here.

"Look, you need to get some sleep," he says, shifting further to lean on his hand in a way that doesn't cause another ache to crawl down his ribs. Of course, he could dismiss this. He could dismiss this as the irrational fear that it is, but it's the guilt that stops him. This is on him. "I'll sit right here, all night if I have to, and make sure nothing happens." A beat. "And I'll wake you up if it's not the case."

[bestfuneralever]

"You don't know that," he mumbles into his knees, staring over at his brother. He doesn't know how he can sound so certain, about anything, but especially about things in this place. The way it all keeps happening, no one is safe, nothing is guaranteed. Yet, Five seems so sure, it makes Klaus want to believe him.

He sniffs and shakes his head, "I can't..." the words come out as a whine, soft and quiet with no real fervor to them. But that offer... makes his chest tight, because it doesn't even feel like Five, usually so sharp, so callous and hardened. But then...maybe it's not so strange. Five is so fiercely protective of what is his own, it's natural he would do anything for that purpose, whatever shape it might take.

"...You mean it?" he asks, slowly lifting his head from the tops of his knees. "you'll stay with me?"

[fika]

Klaus is right - Five doesn't know that at all.

But he still has to be sure. Still has to have enough foolhardy certainty in him - false confidence maybe - to know that he's one of the most dangerous people in a room. Even here, even with magic he can't understand, and events he can't define and timelines he can't fucking crack.

A stranger covered in too much shadow to see, invisible forces tossing him off cliffs - that doesn't change the fact that given the opportunity, Five knows with a desperate edge of confidence that he will kill anything that steps foot inside this room that isn't supposed to be here.

"Yeah, I do," is the easy reply, a dull drop of shoes slipped off and onto the thin rug before bending his knobby legs to hoist himself further onto the bed. If it helps nail the point across, then good. There's another pang of something in his chest. A building sort of anger, restlessness bubbling on the edge.

The Township of Mathias has overstepped, bringing Klaus here. Deeply so.

[bestfuneralever]

There's something so definitive about that small action. The punctuation to the statement. A wax seal across an important letter. He means it, he's staying. And going out of his way to prove it.

Something in Klaus' chest swells, and it's a different kind of tightness than has been resting between the cage of his ribs for days he forgot to count. This isn't something borne of fear, but warmth, a feeling he doesn't know the name of, but has that distinct, familiarity of team, and of family. He wears a small, watery smile, not sure how else to show his appreciation besides a soft, "Thank you..."

He isn't sure he'll sleep, but with his brother right there, he can at least rest, and that's still more than he has had lately. He slowly eases down onto the bed, fixing the pillow to be under his head, which is precariously near Five's hip now, long legs curled half toward him, putting him in something of a ball. He's on his side, facing his brother and, idly without thinking about it (he can barely getting his muddled thoughts together at this point anyway), he reaches for Five's hand. He knows his brother has never been that big on physical affection (had any of them?) but Klaus is a tactile being, and maybe Five can put that side for the comfort it brings him right now.

[fika]

Five is nothing if not fastidious, crossing his t's and dotting the i's. In this, too.

He doesn't pull away when Klaus's long fingers curl around his hand. At the end, he won't say he clings to it like a lifeline, no. But he squeezes, just a fraction.

He isn't good at this, couldn't even begin to define what this is. How can he, having spent so many years trying to get back to them, instead of growing with them?

Did he wish he had? Maybe. It's hard to remember what he wished for.

He shifts a little on the bed, tucks a pillow behind him in a way that doesn't bite at his ribs, and tries to ignore the seething anger that boils somewhere in the hollow of his throat. He can't damn well fight a whole village without a face to accuse. But he can finally try and fucking do something about it.

He knows if Klaus knew, he would hate the idea. That trying time travel never worked in their favour but Five isn't without his pride, and his desperation and this stupid place with its stupid machinations could come for him all it likes. But it made the biggest mistake in coming for his family. A gauntlet thrown, and he is going to see it fucking burn to the ground. After he finds a way to get back, and make sure that whatever bullshit happened in the past of Mathias doesn't make the mistake of following any of them back.

He will keep his promise until morning, and then, he thinks, he needs to talk to Doc.

[bestfuneralever]

Despite the low, bubbling panic that has become a constant in recent days threatening to keep him awake, Klaus does eventually drift to sleep. Something about the weight of his brother’s hand in his own. The press of another body close to his. All makes it easier to let himself finally, achingly, succumb to the exhaustion that wracks his body.

Initially, the sleep is genuinely restful, purely for the fatigue catching up and the body shutting down. But the longer the hours stretch on into the yawning chasm of dawn, the more restless Klaus becomes at Five’s side. It starts as a few incoherent mumbles, easily ignored, but slowly grows into something more upsetting until the crescendo of a jolt awake, breath only a shuddered gasp in, hands in claws around himself as he drags them upward to his shoulders.

No words come other than a rapid-fire string of, “No, no, no, nonononono...” that tapers off into a whine as he shoves his fingers roughly through his hair, nails dragging across the back of his neck at the end. Five is left to the side in his panic, with no explanation for what just happened.