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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"Heh. Of course." A few long moments pass. Not long enough for Raylan to have fallen asleep. The bed creaks again and sheets crease as Doc turns to face Raylan's back. An uncharacteristically soft ghost of a brush of lips and the slight tickle of moustache tells Raylan he got his goodnight kiss on his shoulder.

A bold hand slides from Raylan's waist, callouses scratching along soft skin across until the weight of his arm sits comfortably on Raylan's side and a wayward, restless thumb strokes across that soft, sensitive spot above Raylan's naval. Doc - Henry - whoever it is pressed up against the Marshal feels warm, a few hard edges of torso and thighs melded against Raylan's back, protective without being possessive, gentle without being too intimate.

Raylab might not have needed that reassurance, but he got it anyway.

He felt the turn and assumed that Henry had shifted to follow suit but the sudden soft heat of half a breath to go with those ghosting lips and mustache had him turning his head a fraction with a faint inhale of unexpected attention. There was no doubting the thrill of it, even such a small gesture, but coupled with the bold touch and the tuck in of Doc's body against his, he didn't know what to think.

In the swill of shine, the only thing he could do was soak in this too, stomach fluttering once under the brushing of Henry's thumb before he settled his head back down on the pillow and tightened himself, pressing back faintly with his whole body before relaxing into the bed. Whatever faint slice to his pride that gentle 'no' had done, it was all forgiven.

He needed the reassurance. All that mattered was that neither of them were alone, right?

Edited 2021-01-25 02:01 (UTC)

Malcolm had gone downstairs looking for Doc. It was later than usual and he couldn’t sleep. The dressing wasn’t sticking properly to the wound on his finger anymore and he could at least deal with that.

Neal told him Doc had requested to use the master bedroom. Well, it was his night to mind Malcolm’s night terrors. It didn’t occur to Malcolm that he might want it for anything other than being nearby.

Until he opened the door, poking his head in in case Doc was asleep, but it was too dark to see at first. He moved into the room.

“Doc? Neal told me y...” His voice trailed off suddenly as his eyes adjusted enough to see the bed in the dim light filtering in from the hall as he got almost halfway towards it.

He felt his stomach sink as he was sure the colour drained from his face and he hoped it was too dark for them to see him, backlit by the hallway. He could still salvage his reaction if they hadn’t seen the look on his face. He could only soldier through on the assumption they hadn’t.

“Sorry. I didn’t... think. I should have knocked, I didn’t.... Neal said you asked for the room, I didn’t really think for... what.”

He felt foolish, largely. Foolish for believing a little affection could be more than it was. Of course he was with Doc. Malcolm had originally thought he was. It made sense. They were equal. They did the same work, keeping everyone safe.

He realized his eyes were lingering on Raylan and he let them fall away.

“Sorry. It’s... nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

Mostly he felt foolish because he’d known from the start that Raylan was well out of his league. Well out. But he’d let himself entertain... notions. He started backing up towards the door. “I’ll just. Talk to you at breakfast.”

Fortunately for the both of them there was no elbowing or kicking. The night rolls on by with minimal incident until the sound of Malcolm's strings of apologies start to pull him out of the depths of his sleep.

The obvious misunderstanding initially went over Doc's head. He was still half-asleep when he stirred, sitting up with his thumb pressed against the side of the bridge of his nose. He is still fully clothed. As is Raylan. The idiot's even still got his belt on.

"Malcolm," his voice low, commanding, breaking on slightly hoarse like dark chocolate and gravel even in his sleep-steeped state. A firm hand is steady on Raylan's upper arm. Protective, still, and reassuring. He's got this.

"You wouldn't have come if it was nothing," he points out quietly, futile as it is to not wake Raylan now. "Come here." He gestures with a lean to the side and a couple of curled fingers.

"Tell me what's wrong," asks Doc I don't have paternal instincts Holliday.

No, no avoiding waking Raylan, not when he woke with a start and a sharp, almost panicked breath at the sudden sounds, body half lifted as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. Malcolm. A spike of adrenaline shot into his veins, only partially calmed by the weight of Doc's reassuring hand but it was enough to let him drop back down into the bed before shifting onto his back as Malcolm was invited to come over.

He didn't want this to be a problem. It was too early for it to be a problem.

"S'fine," Raylan rumbled from his spot, to both Doc and Malcolm. He was awake and whatever Malcolm was apologizing for - something about the door? was fine. He breathed in and hoisted himself up onto his elbows.

"You okay?" Did they need to be at attention?

Malcolm halted his retreat at the way Doc said his name, approaching the bed hesitantly, looking at Raylan again as he rolled over, then making himself not. Was he okay? Well. He had to be. There was nothing in this room he had any claim to. He needed to stop being stupid. They wanted to know why he'd come. Why had he come? Oh, right.

He looked down at his hand.

"Um. I couldn't sleep and... this dressing is falling off. And I... didn't know if your first aid kits were still in your old room but I think Negan is asleep there but... I mean. Maybe it doesn't even need to be covered anymore." He was babbling. Shut up, Malcolm. He pressed his lips together. "It's not an emergency," he said apologetically, his eyes wandering to Raylan again before he turned them back to Doc.

"Come on. Have a seat." Doc pulls one leg back, bending it at the knee while the other hangs off the edge of the bed. Patting the still-warm space in front of him, he invites Malcolm to sit.

There were too many things to unpack in Malcolm's almost-blubbering so Doc is going to address them all separately.

"I can- mind the bottle at the foot of the bed - I can take a look at that." He reaches around to get the light. It's not the brightest light in the room but it would serve them just fine. "And then you can tell us what's keeping you awake. Are you worried about waking up somewhere else again?"

That's how they're going to chew through the elephant in the room. One bite at a time.

Raylan added his lazy hand, gesturing for Malcolm to come join them in case it was also needed, unable to help with anything with Malcolm so far away. No, he could guess what Malcolm was thinking. The way they were flirting earlier today, the kiss the day before, only to find him curled up in bed with Doc.

He didn't know how to help outside of some subtle reassurance that he hadn't figure out the steps to just yet.

Raylan groaned as the light switched back on, one forearm coming up to shield his eyes from the light, no matter it's brightness. With Malcolm on the bed, the Marshal opts to turn onto his side to face them, happy enough to stay laying down. Doc did say he had it, after all. Raylan would be.. backup support.

Edited 2021-01-25 03:44 (UTC)

Malcolm looked down to step around the bottle when warned, then perched on the edge of the bed, glancing over at Raylan as he held his hand out for Doc to inspect before turning his attention to the half-unstuck bandaging.

"Sometimes I just can't sleep. I just don't... usually disturb you when I'm not sleeping."

There was nothing in his head he wanted to see.

"My mind races. More than it used to, without the medicine I used to take. I can't turn it off."

Doc gently rips it off, leaving the used bandages in a small bundle on the floor next to the bottle. The skin has mostly fused back so it is looking okay, but he turns Malcolm's hand over and presses the tip of his thumb against the edge of the cut just to be sure.

"Well. This is a big bed, and you are not." Big, that is. "I do mean that in the nicest way." Doc is still just barely holding onto Malcolm's hand, trying to give it some stability amidst any intermittent tremors. "How about you lie down here. And just count while you breathe, same as you do in the morning. And we'll try and slow your mind down?"

Doc shuffles over a little to make some space for Malcolm, laying out the promise of warmth and security beneath his curled fingers. All at once he can't be the one who doesn't have his shit together - the window for that had come and gone - and Lord he is trying through sheer resolve and determination to be that steady, unwavering bedrock again.

"Raylan and I, we can handle wild horses. You wouldn't even hurt us if you tried."

Raylan hummed an agreement with Doc's invitation, lifting his top arm to gesture Malcolm in, just in case he needed it. The bed was warm and comfortable and Raylan would not object to having another body to curl up against, not tonight. Maybe it would smooth everything over and they could wake up tomorrow like this was all perfectly normal.

"He's right, we'll be fine, c'mon," Raylan added, hopefully not letting Malcolm go too far down the 'No but what if path'. "Even if you don't fall asleep, a little peace, hmm?"

Clearly, the cowboys were gently not going to accept a no.

Crawl in right there? He’s not sure there’s ever been a moment he wanted one thing more. Surely, he was interrupting something. Was it selfish to crawl in there without even offering an out? Were they just being polite?

He looked at Doc and then at Raylan uncertainly, his eyes lingering on Raylan a moment before fluttering back to Doc.

It didn’t... feel like it. His hand warm in Doc’s hand, there was none of the body language of annoyance he was quite used to seeing on people in many situations.

He let his hand, shaking only slightly at the moment, fall away from Doc’s grasp as he shifted to crawl into the centre of the bed, laying down there on his back, his shoulder to Raylan’s chest so there was space for Doc on the other side of him.

He shouldn’t allow himself to fall asleep, that he knew. He could hurt one of them. A little peace sounded good though. A little warmth. Or a lot of warmth. He let his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers fidgeting restlessly, and looked at Raylan, whose face was much, much closer now while he could feel Doc’s movements on his other side. He looked over there, taking a somewhat shaky deep breath through his nose as he remembered Doc’s suggestion, letting it slowly out through his mouth. One, two, three, four, five.

Doc probably shouldn't laugh but Malcolm looks so nervous, he couldn't help that warm little noise bubbling out of him. Settling back down and stretching out the length of the bed again, Doc turns inwards to face them, hand smoothing over that impossibly narrow waist and purposefully disrupting Malcolm's fidgeting hands, reaching over until his fingertips bump against Raylan's hip.

"We've got you," he promises in a loveresque murmur, eyes closed and a stray leg away from a snuggle. "It's okay to take things slow. And just... drift. Thoughts will come. Breathe 'em in, let 'em come. And let 'em go. It's okay. You're okay." Where he can't be making relaxants or what-have-you, someone's been picking up meditative and sleeping tips from the library in his spare time.

His hand drifts up the sheets in the space between Malcolm and Raylan, giving Raylan's elbow a nudge to encourage his arm to move.

As Malcolm laid down, Raylan let his hand fall onto the smaller man's upper arm, back of his fingers brushing softly up and down the few inches he had reach to without too much movement. He knew what he'd rather do to wipe that look of concern off Malcolm's face, but he settled for shifting little closer, not disencouraging the bump of fingers against his hip or the intimate way they were wrapping around Malcolm. Whatever hesitations he might have had of unabashedly embracing Malcolm in bed, Henry clearly did not.

The fingertips at his elbow made him huff a little breath of amusement as his hand slid over Malcolm's chest with an unconscious faint hum of satisfaction until it was draped all the way over him, the heat from Doc's chest nearly against the backs of his fingers.

There wasn't anything he would add to Doc's apt comfort beyond his own weight and heat and secure presence and a echo of, "It's okay."

He would bet that them being there was more comforting than 'its okay', but actions always were, weren't they.

They were.

His next deliberate breath came a little easier, a little less shakily. In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three, four, five.

He felt like he was in a cocoon of warmth.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three, four, five.

Nobody in his life before had ever willingly crawled into a bed with him if they knew about his night terrors. He could easily fall asleep here, held like this, hemmed in by safety on both sides.

That thought was terrifying a moment after it was amazing. His eyes snapped open. He watched the ceiling for a moment, but then he pushed that aside. They said it was okay.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three, four, five. That one was a little more laboured.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured to them both. To the room.

They were holding on to him, though. Both of them. They might feel him stir before he got too dangerous. Could this be allowed?

In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three, four, five.

Well. He hates to be the bearer of bad news, Malcolm, but other people have been there and done that already, to the both of them. There is nothing he could possibly do in that very bed that could hurt either Doc (Henry, whatever his name is) or Raylan more than how they've already been hurt, when their fingers coast along a cold indent in that gaping, empty space next to them and the person they so desperately had wanted to wake up next to were long gone. No amount of flailing or screaming can cut as deep as abandonment masquerading as a bittersweet goodbye.

"You can't," Henry replies after a stretch of quietness and stillness. He has already shared enough of their trade secrets for Malcolm to know that the two of them have already learnt their lesson. Nobody can hurt either of them anymore. Never again.

Raylan's thumb set back to brushing back and forth across Malcolm's arm as the breaths started coming more heavily.

"We're not gonna let anything happen." Unwilling to be so sentimental about his own empty bed issues with a bed full of bodies, Raylan was more focused on the physical aspect of it all. Wild elbows and fists. Something more for Henry to tend to when dawn hit. "It's alright, Malcolm. We know the risks. We're here anyway and not goin' anywhere."

Malcolm had mentioned to him that he'd never slept in a bed with anyone else before due to his night terrors, so Raylan was prepared for that, if nothing else.

He was fairly sure he could to some degree. Physically. Break a nose, blacken an eye. Fighting monsters because he didn’t understand, in the depths of it, that those solid presences around him were the two most important people in his world right now.

We know the risks.

He looked at Doc for a long moment, then looked at Raylan, studying them each in turn.

Maybe he’d misunderstood what he’d walked into. They did not exude an air of coitus interruptus. Were they just... doing this for each other?

Was he looking at Raylan’s face for too long? He looked up at the ceiling again.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two, three, four, five. It went easier that time. He squeezed his hands into fists, hoping that wouldn’t dislodge Doc’s hands from there.

Could he shut his eyes? Did he dare? He stared at the ceiling some more, listening to their breath on either side of him.

If he didn’t break any noses, could they do this again? Was that tempting fate?

If there had been any kind of indication below the belt that John Henry Holliday was happy to see either of them, he would have apologised profusely and excused himself until it passed. It happens - had happened frequently when he used to sleep around prolifically - and especially after so many decades of isolation, he craves the touch more so than he would ever let on. But the only thing Malcolm had interrupted was a few more hours of sleep. And that, they can scrape together quite easily during the day or try to stave off and recoup the next night.

The closer he gets to drifting off the tighter his arm-wrap gets around Malcolm's waist. He needs to protect. Keep Malcolm safe. He promised he would. His knee bumps against the side of Malcolm's shin, stopping short of getting entangled in between his legs.

But as he finally dozes off himself, all the reassurances maybe having worked a little too well, the tension in his arm seeps away and he goes lax again, face half buried in the pillow as the backs of his curled fingers brush dangerously close to the middle seam of Raylan's pants in the dark, arm hanging down too low from Malcolm's waist.

It's fine. No elbows to the face or broken noses. It's... probably fine.

With Henry around his waist and Raylan around his chest, Malcolm was as properly secured as they'd be able to get him. Raylan watched Malcolm's silhouette turn his head back and forth from his half cracked eyes and hoped this all wasn't too.. weird. He kept his brushing fingers going, shifting them just enough to brush against Henry's chest a little with the motions until the lure of sleep, steady heart beats and breaths caught him and slowed them to a stop.

However subtly Raylan might have wanted there to be a little something to interrupt, he was just as touched starved and was more than happy to be settled down next to people he felt safe with - no cotius to interupptus. Somewhere in the next hour, one finger finds its way to hook loosely underneath one of Henry's undershirt straps and if there's a few twitches of his hips towards the pair, surely he's running in his sleep.

He knew this would be just as short as the last but if they were lucky, maybe they'd get those few extra hours of sleep they were all hoping for.

Malcolm feels them fall asleep, Doc and then Raylan. The longer he stays awake, the longer they can sleep before the terrors in his head assault him and wake them.

He turns his head, watching Raylan's face in repose. There's still some kind of tension there, even in sleep. He can feel Raylan's breath on one shoulder and Doc's on the other. He shifts his hands so one rests on Doc's forearm and one on Raylan's. He turns his gaze back to the ceiling again and his eyes flutter before closing and he falls asleep.

Nearly four hours later, he starts muttering, shifting left and then right, finding obstacles in both directions. Muttering turns to shouting and he tries to bolt right through Raylan.

Doc reaches for a gun that isn't under the pillow when he is first awakened, drawing empty rivers in the bedsheet, and before Malcolm can kick Raylan in any unfortunate soft bits or climb over him and put a hole through the wall or window, Doc is on top of him. He doesn't immediately remember how they wound up in this particular configuration but it will come back to him after he rolls into action.

One hand grabs Malcolm's wrist in a grip hard enough to leave a red mark on his skin as Doc wraps Malcolm's right arm over his left, holding those strong but deceptively skinny forearms against his torso and pulling Malcolm into a tight, restraining hug while his leg swings over to trap Malcolm's lower limbs down onto the mattress. He's got thirty-something, forty-something pounds on the New Yorker and the more he rolls on top of Malcolm the more he's going to feel that warm, heavy onslaught of weight and reassurance.

Doc has one free flailing hand which he uses to grab Raylan's chest and twist a fist into his undershirt, hold him so he doesn't get shoved off the bed.

"Hey!" Doc whisper-asserts through the ruckus, raspy voice managing as assertive of a tone without coming on too aggressive. It's impossible not to be slightly threatening with a growl in his ear and one arm and leg holding him down with a cowboy half-rolled on top of him. He is too preoccupied with getting Malcolm to calm down to remember to let go of Raylan's singlet, white-knuckled fist an outlet for where he is trying to exert a controlled amount of force unto Malcolm. "Ssshhh sssshh sshh."

Oh there was no fear of Raylan goin' anywhere - The starts of distress got a twitch of his arm and at the start to wakefulness, the arm under his head fisted into the bed as his other reached out to fist into Doc's undershirt, which worked out rather well as they all leveraged their own weight against each other.

His left hand let go of the bed and came around to cupping Malcolm's jaw, helping to keep any thrashing from cracking the two men's heads together as he threw his leg over Doc's, securing Malcolm on all sides. Twisting either way would end Malcolm in a wall of Cowboy.

All he could do was hold on, heart jackhammering under Doc's knuckles - he worried that too many voices would make it worse.

As the combined efforts and weight of two cowboys renders him unable to struggle or escape, he screams. It’s a mournful howl of despair at the top of his lungs that ends in a choked sob as he gives one last fruitless push against them.

Then startles awake with a gasp, eyes darting around, body tensed until he realizes where he is. His heavy breaths get shaky. He’s trembling. He swallows hard.

“Did I hurt anyone?” he whispers fearfully.

He nearly clips a cowboy's head on his way up but Doc swiftly relinquishes Malcolm into Raylan's arms once he's awake, mumbling an apology that's nearly lost in the commotion about grabbing Raylan like that. He wouldn't have minded holding onto him until the shaking stops but since Raylan is there, he figured that Malcolm would prefer his company and his reassurances.

"You're okay," Doc promises as he starts to climb out of bed, pulling a blanket up to take his place, covering most of Malcolm and a bit of Raylan with it before letting go. Doc raises a hand to get Raylan to stay with Malcolm and gestures over to the door with his thumb before picking up his shirt, the empty bottle and the bundle of bandages on his way out. The vagabond is on the move, as always, hardly stopping even for Hurricane Malcolm. He's going to check that Negan and Neal haven't fled in terror and reassure them that he didn't try to pull Malcolm's teeth out in the early hours of the morning.

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OKAY MALCOLM, CMON IN

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