villagelogs | 024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias + ???
WHEN: Days 024-027
WHAT: The consequences of their actions.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted January 23rd.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Onryo" 怨霊

DAYS 024-025
CONSEQUENCES
“There are in nature neither rewards nor punishments —
there are consequences.”
— Robert G. Ingersoll
When the unwilling residents of Mathias Township wake on the morning of the 24th day, they will find themselves in yet another set of frustratingly unnerving circumstances. None of them are where they last remember being, and some of them have strange marks on the palms of their left hands. It's all incredibly unsettling, but truthfully they should be used to it by now. No one will remember traveling to their new location.

Residents can wake up anywhere within their new location and in any position. Curled up in a bed, sprawled on a couch, huddled beneath a coffee table, propped against a wall... Wherever they are, they will themselves to be in quite an unusual state. While they are wearing whatever clothing items they went to sleep in, plus their shoes and a coat. The newest arrivals to Mathias Township will perhaps stand out for being slightly more appropriately dressed than their new neighbors. They are all a bit damp, physically worn out, and half-frozen from their apparent walk through a blizzard.

Each of the four locations is inescapable — residents are trapped, with exterior doors and windows being shut tight and a blizzard raging outside. The locations are stocked with fresh food and water and a large pile of firewood for the fireplaces in each building. The circumstances residents will face, however, may vary wildly between locations as the forces at work in Mathias respond to the recent actions of certain individuals.

BOARDING HOUSE | GREY GULL
NEW HOUSE | MYSTERY MANSION

These residents will wake with a mark on their left hand palms, a spiraling black symbol similar to those some may have seen around town. All marks are identical and cannot be removed, but will have seemingly vanished from their skin on the morning of the 26th day.

Castiel, Daisy Johnson, Dean Winchester
Elena Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Helen Magnus
Phil Coulson, Quentin Coldwater, Sherlock Holmes

DAYS 026-027
IN THE AFTERMATH
After their ordeals of the past two days, the unfortunate residents of Mathias Township will be grateful to find that they were back where they are supposed to be, a chill still clinging to their clothes in whatever place they went to sleep the night of the 23rd day. New arrivals will wake in the living room of the boarding house. None of the residents will wake with anything in their possession from the locations in which they were previously trapped, including any notes or documentation they may have made during their time there.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— SNOW continues to fall heavily on Days 024-025, resulting in white out conditions from the wind that blows in gusts of over 35 mph; the temperature also drops drastically, making conditions extremely dangerous for residents. The blizzard clears on Day 26 and residents are left with a cold, calm world covered in white.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the northern section of town, beginning just before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be. Venturing into the fog is... ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. Kylo Ren and Thomas Richardson have vanished without a trace.

— NO NEW DEATHS have occurred in town, but there is a new "grave" in the small makeshift graveyard near the schoolhouse. Rey's corpse has been moved and covered with stones to wait for the ground to thaw enough for a proper burial.

— THE LANTERNS will be gone from the morning of Day 024. No trace of them remains.

OOC UPDATES
— A GIFT for everyone! As a thank you for being part of this spooky little game, every character in the game is being gifted 2 Activity Points. These may be banked over here — instead of linking to an AC post, you may put "New Year gift" in that field. Happy 2021, friends!

— NEW LAYOUTS have been installed for our communities! Huge thanks to our Eldritch Librarian Stars for putting in the time to get this place looking shiny. (You may have also noticed some new page layouts being installed — these are also our Librarian's handiwork!)

— 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.)

— 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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Doc isn't sure why or when they decided to swap the colours around but, well. It's been much easier to find blue shirts so he just wears what is available.

"I cannot say for certain that it was for us. I had awoken in the bed in one of the bedrooms, but our friend Mister Winchester had been downstairs in the kitchen. Could we not have all been dropped into bed with our worldly possessions put away in the wardrobe?" If you are going to 'flex', you might as well 'flex' all the way. Doc would never draw his gun without pulling the trigger and hitting a seemingly impossible target if he was going to flex about outdrawing the competition. This half-assed showboating didn't make much sense. If you are going to take a man's shoes and bring it with him to some nicely done up house then at least have the decency take his goddamn hip flask along with too.

"Perhaps it is in the fog." So far they have already walked halfway around town and seen nothing suspect or out of place. "The crevice in the ground is in the fog now, too."

“The fog’s moved again,” he murmured in echo. He looked at Doc. “The lighthouse was blocked by the fog when Raylan and I were first brought there. I wonder how they determine where to put it.”

Doc is still not used to thinking of the puppeteer. One that is able to just put some fog down wherever he likes, like an artist with a canvas dictating the position, the shade and the lightness of every brushstroke.

"Well it's just as well Raylan hadn't tried going over," Doc breathes with a sigh. "I am not certain if it is even worth looking for clues. Someone capable of this would not strike me as sloppy." You never take on anyone you can't outdraw. No, they must- outmagic the magic somehow. Test for weaknesses, fallacies in their assumptions, be it in the fog or any other limitations that are set for them.

"If we cannot beat them at a game we know not the rules and boundaries of, we must find a weak spot and do something they cannot anticipate. What table scraps we can find, I..." Doc purses his lips and shakes his head. "I doubt they were unintentionally left behind for us to discover."

Malcolm looked at Doc earnestly. "I think that too. I think that... whatever we see here? They want us to see. You know how... people hang a mobile above a baby's crib to make sure the baby's brain stays.... engaged? Maybe maps and keys and photographs are just a sophisticated version of that. They're trying to keep us engaged so we don't get listless. The 'mystery' is just another method of control. This place is all psychological games, Doc."

"Well I don't doubt that everyone would want to know why we are here, regardless of whether the things we have found mean anything." But not everyone shares Doc's opinion that asking those questions, important as they are, would help them get back home.

"I have been imprisoned long enough to have found ways to entertain myself with far fewer trinkets. Not everyone can handle this sitting and waiting. If it keeps people busy..." Doc shrugs. "I would rather people find a common goal to work towards, fruitless though it might be, than go stir-crazy on their own or start turning on each other."

"I think there's a lot to be said for putting that energy into looking after each other...." He was about to add something about looking out for cracks in the facade, but then he realized what it sounded like, his priority there. "And not," he correctly quickly, "just because I've benefitted from it so much." He glanced at the ground, swallowing that back down. "Or. You know. The most."

Doc did not read into it in that way. He stops, reaching out to touch Malcolm on the shoulder.

"Malcolm." Pivoting in the snow, he places his other hand on Malcolm's other shoulder. "Everyone is better off for us looking after each other. You don't tend to win mind games all on your lonesome. I've had- I've had days where I don't wanna get up, or do anything, or talk to anyone. You keep me going. Not because you need me around for anything, but because you're looking out for me." Even if Doc would insist that he doesn't need to be looked out for. For as much as he does enjoy Raylan's company, they might discuss what they perceive to be important matters at hand but they don't actually tell each other if something's wrong with themselves. It is not their way.

Malcolm was sharply moved by the idea that Doc felt he contributed something beyond keeping them busy minding his problems. He didn't trust his voice just then, but he nodded his grateful acceptance of that.

He held Doc's gaze for a moment, then slowly turned to start walking again, still watching Doc sidelong.

"I'm worried about their games getting more dangerous. Neal said, in the Gull, there seemed to be a concerted effort to keep them awake. Sleep deprivation is a recognized form of torture under the Geneva Convention."

Great. Hopefully they don't have to have this discussion again. Malcolm is really chipping away at his brazen asshole image.

Doc continues moving, falling in step slightly behind Malcolm once they are back on the proverbial road to nowhere.

"I did encourage him to get some rest once we had returned. He has not yet fully recovered. But he was adamant on going out. I think as long as we are aware, make arrangements and take shifts, we can learn to deal with these adventures." He honestly doubts Raylan could have done Malcolm duty alone. An insignificant dent on a man's pride is a small price to pay to share the load that they put upon themselves.

Edited 2021-01-20 17:36 (UTC)

Doc was so not an asshole. Neither was Raylan. Though Malcolm could see that preserving some image of such was important to both of them. Defence mechanism, his education and experience told him. A sword and shield against a world that had hurt them before.

He wanted to protect them from their trauma as much as they sought to protect him from his.

"I'm glad he's going to stay with us. I don't think he's any better suited to be alone here than I am, though I'm certain he'll be... quieter," he noted with an awkward laugh.

Neal seems to be a social animal. He might not need them to wake him up every night but he does need them to at least be around, talk to him, listen to his stories. When he speaks of having done some time Doc does not fully understand what the time that Neal had done entails, but he understands the cravings that loneliness stirs up in the soul.

There must be something about New York that makes it a lonely place.

"Oh I don't know about that. When I met him and he figured out who I was he would have probably told me my entire life story." Doc hopes that they would get along, but saying that aloud sounds a little weird. As though he's scoured the township for a suitable playmate for his ward, vetted him and invited him into their house so that Malcolm would make more cowboy-approved friends.

"He is really well read. A bit of a history buff. I think we'll have a lot we can talk about."

Nevermind that Neal's dad was a criminal, too. Not... quite to the degree of Malcolm's but. It was an area they had in common.

"Guess that means I can find you two at the library if you're out late." Doc casually leaves the 'again' part out.

"Apparently he is a decent chef as well. Actually, talking to him, he seems to be good at everything." Well, almost everything. Raylan and Doc are probably better shots, whatever that's worth out here.

"A chef? Good. That means you guys will be eating well," he observed. "I know he can draw. His likeness of Rey was perfect."

"We eat fine," Doc retorts. He kind of just busts cans open, throws everything together and hopes for the best, but Raylan cooks just fine.

"Did you want a portrait done? You can probably keep your clothes on but you'll have to sit still for that," he jokes.

Malcolm laughed.

“I’d rather have a portrait of the rest of you,” he admitted. “And not just because I can’t sit still,” he said, giving Doc a side eye to acknowledge that barb. “Also I’m certain Neal won’t count eating beans right out of the can as gourmet dining, but if you love it that much, I’m sure he can work it in.”

"You know, it's not a terrible idea to have a portrait done of everyone." They'll know who all is in town and if someone goes missing they can put their face up on the board. "But I can't imagine that everyone would be too thrilled." Not everyone wants their mug shots taken. Doc himself wouldn't volunteer. For as much as he stands out, he would rather keep his head down and go about his business, be a rumour of a ghost than have people making records. Everyone stands out in their own way in this small town and honestly? Nobody needs that kind of attention.

"If it's for you and Raylan I do heat up and put said beans on a plate," Doc points out. Sometimes he's lazy to do the washing and if it's for himself he doesn't see the need. That is, if he even eats at all. Has Malcolm been watching him eat? That's-- no less strange than Jeremy, but still a little strange.

"I suppose I could-- spend less time gallivanting around town flirting with the locals and learn a thing or two from Mister Caffrey when he's in the kitchen." Maybe the days of dog food-like dinner made from canned beans and tinned meat are numbered.

Malcolm watched everyone. It wasn’t a conscious effort; it was just how he observed the world. Seeing people, learning them, trying to understand them.

“I’m not saying I don’t enjoy good ol’ fashioned Warm Beans On A Plate,” Malcolm clarified; it was often exactly his speed. “I’m just saying if we have a man with real culinary skills in the house and he wants to share them, then I encourage that because you and Raylan deserve to be spoiled for once.”

"We aren't getting attacked or shot at and no one is trying to take us away to be experimented on. The only thing I worry about every night is you and Raylan getting enough rest. I would say we are plenty spoiled." Doc is a man of little faith and low expectations. It makes Mathias seem more of a kindness than it really is.

"But I suppose we could try something different for a change." As long as the New Yorkers aren't banning Doc or Raylan from the kitchen permanently.

“Just now and then,” Malcolm promised.

He was sure Doc would enjoy the food once it was on his plate but - when it came down to it - Malcolm would eat Warm Beans On A Plate every night if it made Doc happy.

“Also, I think Raylan laregly sleeps through my... incidents when he’s not on duty,” he added. “Are you getting enough rest?” he asked.

He would probably stare blankly at Neal if he tried to describe what passed for fancy food in New York but as long as it wasn't still alive and writhing helplessly on his plate, he would be willing to try it. The alive and writhing stuff he would prefer to save for once they start getting desperate around here.

"Don't worry about me. I do too. Sleep through your awakenings. And I would sleep through any other noise you two might wish to make, at any juncture."

Whatever happens betwixt the bungee cords behind closed doors would stay that way. Just saying.

It was the sort of thing Doc said from time to time. Between the two of them, of course. He was never trying to humiliate anyone. And it was the sort of thing Doc said that he would normally meet with a good natured scoff. Except. Today he looked at him and blinked, like maybe it meant he knew something that he couldn’t know. Raylan wouldn’t have told him. Would Raylan have told him? No. Would he? Part of Malcolm was dying to talk about it and part of him was afraid to even think about it, like he could scare it out of existence by breathing the wrong way.

Oh no, he was just blinking at Doc. Good natured scoff! Good natured scoff! He attempted it, but it came out as more of a nervous laugh.

“I doubt you have to worry about that. That’s... not a likely... outcome.” And it does seem unlikely. He doesn’t know if what happened is something or... just something that happened one time.

Yeah no that... scoff? Sounded incredibly suspect. But Doc lets it slide without comment. Colour is already starting to flood Malcolm's cheeks and he wouldn't want to make things any worse.

"Would you like to know what else is an 'unlikely outcome'? Waking up one morning finding yourself walking around with some peculiar fellow who claims to be a hundred and sixty-something year old gunslinger in some peculiar town with lettuce that can multiply by itself in the fridge while you are not looking watching some peculiar fog with murderous intent rolling on by."

Doc is rarely ever this direct, but sometimes he feels like he has to be, especially with Malcolm, and on separate occasions with Raylan. Likely or unlikely, perhaps, but nothing is completely impossible. There are simply things that have already happened, that you know in your heart and in your mind to be true, and things that have not yet happened. This pearl of wisdom he has acquired the hard way, the long way around. He hopes he can impart it in a much quicker and easier fashion.

Malcolm's next laugh is lighter and he tilts his head to concede the point.

"Very unlikely," he agrees. "Who would believe a yarn like that?" he jokes. He looks over at Doc. "I just. Don't want to disappoint myself with... wishful thinking. Something... maybe happened yesterday and it feels... " He presses a hand to his chest. "Like if I try to will it into a substance, it'll slip between my fingers like smoke." He smiled faintly. "But if I don't... if I don't push it... then I still know that I saw it, at least."

"Would you care to elaborate?" Doc is not aware of what happened yesterday. After he had squished and almost suffocated Raylan against the couch - some kind of serendipitous configuration they had ended up in that they had not spoken of since - they had spent most of yesterday apart and they did not have the opportunity to speak of whatever Malcolm is referring to. Not that it would have even come up in conversation between them.

"In a way that won't turn into smoke between your fingers," Doc adds. He can just skim the surface or change the subject entirely if he isn't comfortable speaking of it.

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