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

I- uh, okay. Wow, that is a really strange question and- [Quentin frowns, eyebrows scrunching together before he licks his lips to continue] kind of, you know, intimate?

So, I dream about books sometimes. And yes, they might even be weird books by your standard, but that doesn’t mean—- I mean, it’s books and I like books, okay?

You stay here nearly four weeks then talk to me about inmates. [ He scoffs. Well, that answers his question. ]

Christ.

[ John sighs and shakes his head. Well, so much for Mathias throwing them a bone. As if that would happen. He gives a small nod. ]

Guessing introductions need to be remade then. John Constantine.

What?

[Just-- what the hell had he been doing, before what ever happened happened? Sure, this guy had a British accent and yeah, sure, Quentin grew through his teen years wavering between wanting to be Martin Chatwin and just wanting him. But everything about the true story and what Plover had done to the kid had nearly killed that. That Martin turned out to be a murderer did the rest.

But... no. Just--]

Hi? Quentin. Coldwater. But you already knew that. And you know about my dreams which-- is very... strange. So, when you say intimate. You didn't mean you and me, did you?

Bunch of us had a weird set of dreams a few weeks back. Yours had some information we found relating to something else. Doesn't matter much now, given the dream has--[ he raises his hand and makes a butterfly motion, ]--fluttered off.

I meant all of us. Some of us aren't adjusting to the idea of being prisoner in a former fishing town very well.

Just-

[Without even meaning to, Quentin takes half a step closer to John, hands clenching around the strap of his messenger bag.]

Prisoners how? What fishing town? No, wait—- Jesus, I should be sitting down for this. Okay, so... you know me, but. It wasn’t me-me, people had dreams that were not really dreams and we’re trapped here. [He cocks his head to the side] How did he-I get you to believe in the dreams. That’s not- most people wouldn’t. Believe that dreams were something else.

[ John lifts an eyebrow. Has no one told him what the hell is going on? His head tilts back and he lets out a long annoyed sigh. Christ, how did he become the one to explain t hings. ]

I'm supposing no one told you what's going on. Ah, shit. [ He pinches the bridge of his nose. ] None of us have found a way out of Mathias, magical or any other way. No boats, so there goes the idea of sailing off by the beach. No roads that go outside the town.

By definition: trapped.

We've got a board that people leave notes on from time to time. It matched things me and another bloke had found in a book. All of us experience enough weird shit in this town that it's easy to go on faith when it happens to people.

Well-- [he draws it out, like maybe? Maybe someone has mentioned something, but really? When weird shit happens on a weekly basis, a little thing like killer-fog or just dreams don't really make that much of an impact.

Quentin has spent most of the two days he's been in town either holed up in the library or holed up in the house Eliot had.]

I think I've seen the board. That's actually a pretty good idea, leaving pieces of information like that, especially since I can't find a working phone. Or a por- or anything.

[ Oh, the library! Did you enjoy the hole? That was John and Coulson's fault. ]

Only phones you're going to find in town that work are landlines, mate.

[The hole was fine, the burnt section was... less so. Libraries-- dangerous and tricky places.

He cocks his head to the side, hair falling in to his face- unlike the other him, Quentin has long hair, pulled back in a messy bun at the nape of his neck.]

But they work? Like, I can call-- someone. I-- oh. We're trapped, which means the phone work, but not. Shit.

[ Honestly, John doesn't much remember all the details about the other Quentin. So, there's not a lot of comparisons to make. He only met the man once or twice. ]

You can call the other houses in town. There might be a phone book of sorts wherever you decide to hole up in.

I'm holed up at... let me see, Stoker Park? 818. I didn't even look for a phone, I was just-- having somewhere to go, that isn't the library and my friend was there? That was enough. And mistake, obviously.

[Even as he says it, Quentin turns towards the library, eyeing it because-- wow, maybe there's something worthwhile in there. Like, a map. Or a spell book.]

This is all kinds of fucked up. This place.

Huh. First I've heard of someone staying at Stoker Park.

[ Then again he knows the names and faces. Not where they live. Usually? People come finding him. ]

Friend? [ He snorts. ] Mathias is a bit more than fucked up, mate.

I think maybe it's just Eliot, then. And me. Where do you- uhm, hole up?

[The word sounds wrong on so many levels in his own accent, even if it sounded okay coming from John.]

Yeah, I'm starting to see that. And I don't really love the idea of being stuck here. Being stuck anywhere.

[The 'again' is implied.]

Oh, you know Eliot then.

[ He nods down the way. ] Blue house down the way on Phillips Drive. 1387.

No one likes being trapped, mate.

I-- yes? Yeah, I've known him for... a long time. I thought-- nevermind what I thought, because nothing here making any kind of sense and just-- thanks. I'll try to remember that. Where other people live?

[Not that he likes to have a lot of people around, but since people are apparently dying here, knowing where to find help with that seems like a... sensible idea.]

Depends on the trap, doesn't it. I mean, there are traps that people will walk in to willingly. But this isn't one of those? I hope not, because I really can't remember signing up for anything like this.

I've ran into him a few times. We even broke a floor together.

[ Literally.

Then, he shrugs. ] Usually if you've got a house still in standing order? There's someone inside of it. One of the houses got all done up as a distillery for moonshine. Otherwise, seems like people are hunkered up in the Boarding House.

I don't see any gold bars or whiskey that would want to make me be trapped here. Trust me. It's not one of those nice ones.

You. Broke a floor with Eliot?

[Sure, why not. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing Eliot had ever done, and some floors needed to be broken.]

Yeah, I figured as much when I saw the dead body first thing, or. It was kind of the second thing, because the first thing was this guy standing next to it. So, the second thing I saw. But... anyway, yeah. I'm not that Quentin, but I am a Quentin and everything here is just. Like something out of a really crappy book as far, and I'm really hoping it's more of a short story than a novel.

Found a few squeaky floorboards and popped open what we could find. Honestly, mate. That's the least amount of damage that has been done to this town.

[ At least Quentin doesn't seem to be too surprised by the antics of his friend. That's a good sign. ]

Ah, the bloody fucking multiverse. [ He clicks his tongue in annoyance but sighs. ] Fiction supposedly is inspired by real life. Wouldn't be surprised if some of your writers ran into towns like this--hopefully without the possible deity that's pissed.

And? Did you find anything?

[A key, a map, a book. Anything that would make it that much easier to get the hell out of here?]

Yeah, I know exactly what kind of shit the author of my favorite books got in to, and it's-- way worse than this.[Quentin sighs, rubbing his face with both hands.] But yeah maybe. Maybe more books than we think are just... someone writing about what they know.

[Inspiration...] Maybe they even wrote about a way out.

Bit of a map. I've got it at my place if you ever want to take a gander.

[ Meaning he is collecting whatever he finds. Archive purposes, of course. ]

It's possible. There's a few books at the library that might be worth a bit, but, I haven't bothered really reading any of them.

[ Smashing up the library though - yes. ]

[Jesus, yes, and it probably shows on his face. The way his eyebrows go up and he takes a step closer before catching himself.]

Yes. Yeah, I'd-- like that. Would it be okay if I copied it, because I'm pretty good at stuff like this.

[Stuff like this, meaning quests and riddles and anything to get him out of his own head for a little bit.]

Oh. Okay, I'll look in to that, then. Because books might be the way out of here.

[ Well, stop on by sometime, Quentin! He doesn't mind showing off what the other him knew. ]

That other you wrote down what he'd seen in a dream, so, I don't see why we can't share the knowledge around.

Just, ah, watch the bit of a mess I made in there.

Uh, yeah. I'll remember to-- step around the mess in there. And the burnt places. Was that-- you?

[Just a guess, but this guy looks like someone who could set things on fire. Or, at the very least, wouldn't mind it much. He nods, looking towards the library, with it's safe tables and no people.]

I'll stop by some time, and hopefully compare notes? I don't-- have any notes at the moment, but. I'm still looking.

Nah. Arson isn't on my list just yet. Smashed floors and walls? Much more my style.

[ He has set things on fire back home -- just no there in Mathias. Not yet. ]

Sounds like a date. I'll hold you to it.

Uhm, right. Sure?

[With that, Quentin nods sharply and walks back to the library. There are so many things he needs to write down before they slip away, and he needs to sort through what happen before he woke up in this place, too.

Everything is just. A lot.]

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021-023 » the ghosts of fallen leaves

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