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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[Yes, there it is; Feathers. There's no use fighting it, he knows. Perhaps, given enough time, he might eventually learn to tolerate the nickname.

Today is not that day.

Still, as grumpy and out of sorts as Castiel is, he can appreciate what Constantine is trying to accomplish here.]

That's a good idea. Gather as much information as possible and share it around. I believe there's that saying, 'knowledge is power.'

[He tilts his head, considering Constantine as he flips through the papers he has before him.]

Are those your notes, then?

[He arches an eyebrow at the mention of new arrivals.] How often do new people arrive here? Is there a...set timing to it?

[ 'Feathers' is still better than 'Wings', and at least there isn't a malicious intent behind the nickname! Today, anyways. He's a bit more friendly than normal. Meaning he's just more tolerable for everyone else to handle. ]

Your Dad would know, wouldn't he? One of the things your lot does - share the knowledge to us small humans.

[ He looks up from the papers and gives a smirk. Purposely annoying? Playful? He'll let Castiel decide. ]

Papers I found lying around. Most of it's blurry or faded, like the rest of the papers in this goddamn town. [ He drops the bundle down and pushes it to the other side of the table for the angel to take a look. ]

Seems like you lot filter in every few days. Never more than four at a time? Not sure if there is a reason to it, or, if Mathias is just picky.

[The mention of 'his Dad' has Castiel rolling his eyes again. But, in fairness to Constantine, that gesture isn't his fault; it's Castiel's instinctive reaction to any mention of God, a kneejerk response after everything Chuck has put them through.]

You shouldn't put too much stock in what my Father does or does not know. Chuck is, as you humans would say, an asshole.

[Castiel tilts his head at the mention of all the papers in town being blurry and/or faded. That's interesting, he thinks as he tilts his head, trying to look at the papers from a different angle.] And all the papers in town are like this? Blurry and/or faded?

[He considers this knowledge, the idea that Mathias only ever brings in a few people at a time. He wonders at the reasoning for that.]

Perhaps that is all whoever brought us here is capable of, in terms of powers and abilities.

[ Good thing the Almighty is just that in Constantine's reality... and not Chuck. ]

Can't say I know a Chuck. Maybe He just manifests different in your world, eh? Pretty sure the Almighty in my world is a prick as well.. but not a Chuck.

[ The fuck kind of a name is Chuck. ]

As far as I've found so far. Some papers at the Grey Gull still had notes on shipping information... beyond that? No names. Just that they delivered here and got things from a Fishing Company here in town.

[ As if there's a bloody fishing company around. ]

You're thinking it can only do what it does in bursts?

Count your blessings. The God I know? Chuck? He's a writer. And not a very good one, at that.

[Or, he was, at any rate. Castiel does take small comfort in the fact that he knows that, in the end, Team Free Will 2.0 ultimately found a way out of the rat maze Chuck kept them all in.

Curious. So some aspects of some documents are blurred, others are not. Castiel has to wonder why shipping information would be left untouched, as opposed to other information.]

That's interesting. Why keep the shipping information available to view and not anything else?

[He shrugs.]

Well, perhaps. Who knows what kind of abilities and/or energy that requires. Some of my own powers are restrained here; who's to say that the being responsible for bringing us here isn't also affected by those same restraints?

Oh, what, suppose coming down and being mortal enough to save our souls wasn't enough?

[ That seems farfetched even for John's understanding of the world. Then again, he hasn't lived long enough to have a chat with God about punking Hell to save his soul from cancer. So.

John motions for Castiel to take a seat. Might as well get comfortable. ]

Not sure. I wonder if the bits we find were things they overlooked. [ He leans back in his chair with an annoyed sigh. ] Can't say my magic has been fully up to snuff since I got here. Might of coughed up a bit of my lung...

You've got a point, Feathers.

He does enjoy a good 'plot twist,' as he would call it. He's...very dramatic. [An understatement that mentions nothing of the fact of God disguising himself as one of his own prophets and not once lifting a finger against stopping various misdeeds, acts of violence and hatred, and every other terrible act carried out in his name.

As Constantine motions for Castiel to take a seat, he does. He has to admit, it does feel good to get off of his feet. He arches an eyebrow at the prospect of the bits of information being pieces overlooked; that's quite the intriguing concept, he thinks. Hopefully, something especially important has been overlooked for their benefit in the process.

He also can't help but stare a bit as Constantine mentions coughing up part of a lung.] You coughed up a part of a lung? What were you doing that you coughed up part of a lung?

All of this does make me wonder if whatever brought us here isn't also trapped with us.

Tried to send a message into the fog. Nordic style, an attempt to communicate with whatever is in it or what it's hiding. Bounced the magic right back at me. But, it was the blow back from the casting of magic that got me. Easy enough to dodge a returned spell if you sense it coming.

[ A bit of lung gone, some ribs cracked. He's amping up a bunch of injuries in such a short amount of time. Not to mention the bandage on his hand that covers a stab wound. Self inflected, by the way. ]

Hadn't considered that. Thought it might of been a local ancient deity, or a rather pissed spirit. Think it might be trying to siphon enough life force to leave?

The...fog bounced your own magic back at you? [That's concerning on varying levels. Castiel knows about the fog and what it's capable of from Dean and Claire. He didn't know about the fog being capable of rejecting magic and sending it right back to the user, a detail he will be sure to make note of going forward.

He nods as Constantine shares his theories regarding what could possibly be keeping them all trapped here.]

A local ancient deity or angry spirit seem like logical answers. But I think you're right; whatever is keeping us here, he needs something from us, and siphoning our life energy to save itself seems like as probable an answer as anything else.

[He tilts his head, sifting through his own thoughts another moment.]

Or, perhaps, if it's not trapped here, whatever it is, it needs us to feed, whether that's our life energy or our fear.

Or whatever is in the fog. I'm not convinced the fog is the entity itself. It either uses it... or something lives inside of it.

[ He pulls out his lighter and starts to toy with it. This has become less about information sharing and more theorizing. It's a nice break from the routine, really. John doesn't feel like he needs to scratch his eyes out over a million questions. ]

Fear sounds like a good candidate. I suppose old Johnny needs to tell you about the first few days here. [ He flicks his lighter to the other hand. ] First of us showed up on the beach outside the Grey Gull, down the way on Phillips Drive. Had to spend a day or so there while the bloody monsoon rolled through town. Then? Nothing but pure darkness. I'd say three, maybe four days. Voices around and outside while that bloody thick fog rolled in. After that? Nice, beautiful autumn days with nights and mornings.

Both very charming and enticing possibilities, of course.

[And both quite logical, from what Castiel understands. There's so many possibilities at play here; sifting through them all seems like it perhaps might yield new information unintentionally, possibly. Or it's just a way for them to establish some semblance of control over a situation in which they have very little control to begin with.

Castiel nods, listening to Constantine explain the early days of the first arrivals here. He's heard bits and pieces here and there from other conversations, but Constantine summarizes those early days nicely.]

That sounds like a lot for the first few days here. Between the monsoon, the darkness, and those voices, sounds like you all had quite the variety of challenges to contend with. How did you all cope?

Oh, charming. Bet it's lovely in the morning when it rolls out of bed.

[ He scoffs at the mere thought of whatever lives in the fog being homely. Then again, maybe it sees them as the threat. There's too many possibilities and not enough action routes. ]

Fire, a bit of trauma, and a whole lot of cozing up. Eventually the cowboys made the moonshine.

I'm sure it enjoys a nice cup of coffee before it decides to ruin people's days.

[Castiel has grown much more skilled in the art of sarcasm from his time spent with the Winchesters and among humans in general; he can employ with greater finesse than his initial attempts, and, indeed, generally makes use of it much more often than he once did. Deflection by way of carefully choosing his words.

He arches an eyebrow at the mention of 'cowboys.' He wonders how much Dean knows about these cowboys, given his obsession with them.]

The cowboys?

[ The tone elects a snort from John. Well, at least he found it funny. It seems like Feathers is learning how to talk to John in the right ways. That's a good sign. ]

John Henry, usually wears a black cowboy hat. Used to be a dentist from what he told me. Marshal Raylan Givens wears the white one. They usually hang around the Brain-y Harvard Boy. Likes to ask about three thousand questions whenever he talks to you.

[Castiel nods as Constantine describes them. Henry, he's met, of course. He doesn't know this Marshal Raylan Givens, nor Brain-y Harvard Boy.]

I know Henry, but I'm afraid I'm less familiar with the other two you've mentioned.

[He tilts his head, considering for a moment.]

And they're all of them cowboys?

[He would venture to guess that Dean probably already knows all of them.]

Oh, don't you worry, Feathers. When you know one? The other two will eventually show up. Bunch of bloody ducklings.

[ There isn't malice in his tone, but, perhaps an annoyance. Only because John Henry and he are no longer on speaking terms--and Malcolm has always annoyed him. ]

Harvard Boy isn't. Comes from the side of the law, but not in the South.

Now I'm imagining a bunch of ducklings dressed like cowboys. An interesting mental image. [But not a bad one, Castiel thinks, smiling a bit at that particular image. Kind of charming, if he really thinks about it.]

So, a law enforcement agent from the North, then?

Come back and tell me if that mental image is accurate.

[ He really wants to know if someone else sees it that way. ]

Probably around New York. Didn't really bother to ask.

You'll be the first to know if that mental image turns out to be in any way factual.

[Castiel has gotten better about taking words literally over the years. In some cases, he still struggles a bit, but he thinks he can parse the meaning of what Constantine implies when he calls them a bunch of ducklings.]

New York is very populous. And he's also a cowboy, as well as law enforcement?

Oh, I look forward to it. We all need a good laugh now and then.

[ He really does hope they all line up like ducklings crossing a road. Might not have the feathers, but, oh it'll be a laugh. ]

Some sort of profiler I gather. Person who shoves their nose into the business of others and psychoanalyzes them.

Several good laughs, if this place is any indication.

[Not that laughter could really fix their problems, but Castiel believes that they all should take advantage of any chance for levity that they can.]

A profiler? Sounds like dangerous work.

You're not wrong about that, Feathers.

[ Laughter is usually a coping mechanism. Not one of the ones he deals with the most, but, his usual is out the window. Moonshine can only scratch the itch for so long. ]

He's the one that signed up for it.

I like to think I have a sense of humor, having spent so much time among humans now.

[Specifically, the Winchesters, and, particularly, Dean. Castiel has picked up much in the way of human habits, and learning to deal with unfortunate circumstances through sarcasm and humor is certainly one of those habits.]

This is true. And he's a friend of yours, then?

Really? Tell me a joke then. Let's see how well you've developed.

[ Putting him on the spot! John wants to see what Cas is made out of. Go on, Feathers. Entertain him. ]

I wouldn't call him a friend. Then again, I haven't got many friends. Mostly colleagues. People that I owe favors to, or who owe me.

[Well, Castiel thinks, he supposes he walked right into that one by bragging about his own sense of humor. He sighs, but he indulges Constantine nonetheless, pulling out a joke that went over his head the first time he heard it years ago.] Why is six afraid of seven?

Ah. You're one of those people, then.

[Castiel shakes his head. What is it with certain humans and being unable to admit to having friends, he wonders.]

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