villagelogs | 028-029 » the winds of change

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028-029 » the winds of change

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias.
WHEN: Days 028-029
WHAT: A town meeting is called.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Ikiryo"

DAY 028
SOMETHING ON THE WIND
Another day dawns in the fair town of Mathias. The sky is a blanket of light grey, tiny specks of snow lightly falling as the hours pass. It makes the town feel almost quaint, the scenery quite peaceful in its winter garb. But beneath the veneer of peace there is a pervasive dread of something approaching. Something inevitable is on the wind, something that has come before and will come again...

Throughout the day, residents will consistently experience feelings of deja vu, that sense of having done or seen or said something before that can never be fully recalled. It happens again and again, tugging at the back of their minds, the memories just frustratingly out of reach.

Residents will also notice a note pinned around town:

The note can be found on the town hall's bulletin board and the front doors of many town establishments, including the Grey Gull, the library, and the boarding house. At the bottom of the note it is specified that the meeting will take place "tomorrow, when the sun is over the town square."

NEW ARRIVALs
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake on the frozen lawn of the town hall atop a snowdrift. They had best hurry inside and get warmed up before hypothermia sets in.

DAY 029
A GATHERING OF MINDS
In the late afternoon when the sun hangs over the town square, residents will converge upon the Town Hall, where a larger meeting room has been filled with rows of chairs. After most people arrive, John Constantine stands and addresses the room... and then sits again. A grand introduction, truly.

Residents are encouraged to share their experiences and information they have gathered in the town while holding questions until the end. Rather than getting tangled in the intricacies of each person's tale, it seems better to absorb the broad strokes and try to connect the puzzle pieces to get a look at the bigger picture that is the mystery of Mathias Township.

THE INEVITABLE
As the meeting comes to an end and residents begin to converse among themselves, the feeling of something approaching and sense of deja vu begin to build, becoming almost oppressive as night falls. An hour after nightfall, residents learn the reason for these sensations that cease immediately as the earth begins to rumble. The buildings shake, furniture tumbles, and breakables crash to the floor as the earthquake sets in without warning.

The tremors last around a minute, far longer than a normal earthquake, and then the town settles again. There are no aftershocks, which many may note is quite unusual. Residents will find quite a bit of mess in their homes and other locations around town, but there is no structural damage to be found despite the intense shaking.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— THE WEATHER is fairly typical of a northern winter. The sky is grey, the temperature hovers just below freezing during the day (colder at night), and a light snow falls during both days. Residents should bundle up when going outside and not venture too far into the dark night...

— 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 with Sherlock Holmes being the latest victim of the town's unsettling whims.

OOC NOTES
— TOWN MEETING STRUCTURE The town meeting section of the log is designed for characters to share any information they would like to with the other residents in attendance. ICly, characters should "hold questions until the end" with the intent that they can get the Big Picture first and connect any dots they see. OOCly, this means players should post their character's information sharing tag in the Meeting section, but the actual conversation about whatever they share happens after the meeting proper in the Mingle section. That way, these conversations can happen however players prefer, be that one-on-one or in small or large groups.

— HOUSING Please be sure your character's housing arrangements are up to date on our list. We're missing a few people and it really helps to know where everyone is for planning. Frequent updates for wandering characters are perfectly acceptable.

— THE BULLETIN BOARD has been updated. Players should note there is a change to the wall near the board that may be of great interest to some residents.

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Neal was curious. He didn't know there was an antique shop in town. His explorations hadn't gotten that far. Granted, antiquing had never really been his thing, but sometimes there were interesting things tucked away in the corners.

Besides, what this place kept around might tell them something about what the people here valued. What mattered to them. Any information was good information, at this point.

"What's up with the museum, anyway? Why is it all boarded up?"

Raylan had figured that with all the artsy shit that Neal was familiar with, if there was anything in there worth pulling out, Neal would have the nose for it. Raylan had seen the art there, but that kind of class wasn't ever going to be in Raylan's norm or Doc's for that matter. They needed an expert.

He was glad Neal had agreed without any hesitation or arguement; he didn't want to kick around in this place by himself.

"Somethin's in there. Somethin' dangerous. Never seen him as serious as he was threatenin' me with an ass kickin' if I went to investigate just because he told me not to. I'd suggest you not poke around in there." Doc had come back.. scared. There was too much weight behind him having that reasonable fear alone to keep Raylan at bay.

He held the door open for Neal. "Youth before beauty."

Doc, scared. That thought on its own was unsettling. But his interest wasn't quelled--if anything, it increased. He might not have been stupid enough to go to the museum on his own yet, but he's definitely was going to ask Doc about it.

"Since I can't hold the door for myself, you mean," Neal said, flashing Raylan his best possible smile. Even the trauma of the past week wasn't enough to keep Neal from being a brat when the opportunity presented itself.

He sobered a little when they got inside, from pure curiosity more than anything else. He wandered to the nearest display, picking up a tiny framed oil portrait of a dog from the middle of a dusty collection of glass bottles and what looks like a hat pin. "The previous owner certainly had... eclectic tastes."

Raylan's interest hadn't been quelled either, but patience was a virtue to be applied applicably, or so he'd heard somewhere. That and he really didn't want a pissed off Doc tearing into him because he'd been worried. He could guess what that would look like, and it wouldn't be pretty.

The Marshal only grinned at Neal, letting that do all the talking for him as he followed in behind the New Yorker. All that inexperience with doors, really it would be irresponsible for Raylan to let him open one.

"Doc and I have been through here once but there's too much stuff to sort through. I figured if there was anythin' of a real interest or value in here, you'd be the one to spot it. This place feels a bit like a storage locker that's been overstuffed and forgotten for a decade, there's always something to be found. Wait til you see the Dogs in Collars in the back. Eclectic is right."

He set the little picture back down, turning in a slow circle as he looked the shop over. "Well, anything of material value would be kept either in the back rooms or close to the register. Somewhere it would in the open and almost always under someone's eye."

He spotted what he was looking for and headed for the register itself, admiring the heavy old thing. The display case it sits on is hopelessly dusty. He squints, running his fingers through it to see how much will come away if given the chance. "I guess I should ask if we're looking for information or for pieces that will impress on ebay once we're out of here."

"Good luck gettin' to the back rooms without a cave-in of seemingly boring furniture and book boxes. They have some art, 'course.. somewhere." Raylan had started staring as far as he could into the stacks in their messy, dangerously tiny rows, trying to remember where he'd seen them last time.

But he wasn't trudging back there without giving Neal a chance to poke around up front here, and he turned to angle himself back towards the register Neal was standing by.

"Since I didn't get to bring any of that fine whiskey back from the grand house I was stuck in, I doubt she's gonna let us leave with anythin' so we'll have to settle for information. But if I've learned anything here, it's that she likes to stick things in unexpected places. Those pieces might be part of column A. Besides, this isn't an evidence locker. I don't think the owner would argue if anything was palmed."

Neal chuckled softly. "Unexpected places, huh?"

He liked finding unexpected places. He hopped the counter, glad he was wearing jeans. He didn't care if jeans got dusty. Not that he minded most of the clothes he had here getting dusty. He didn't actually like that many of them.

He checked the lock on the display case, making a softly scathing noise. "She clearly wasn't too afraid of things getting stolen, even when there were people here."

Out came his lock pick set. He sorted through the set, selecting what he needed and tucking the rest in their little case back into the back pocket of his jeans. It barely takes a moment before the lock clicks open, and Neal sighs. "I miss having a challenge."

That's what jeans were for, in Raylan's opinion, which is why he only ever wore his suit trousers when he had to show up in court. Not expecting Neal to be so spry, Raylan lifted his eyebrows at the easy hop over the counter and tilted his head at the statement that came as Neal checked the lock.

"Isn't that what the lock is for?" But before he got even halfway through that, Neal was pulling out his lockpick and making an impressive short work of the only thing stopping them.

"How do you do with safes? Might have a few jobs back home for ya." But he wiped the counter some more and peered at the goods. "Need more than a fancy set of bobbypins to get into it, that's for sure."

He sighed dreamily. "I love safes. I haven't cracked a good safe in ages."

It took a little jimmying to get the sliding glass to move. It had settled, and the dirt in the grooves made it stick. He winced at the screeching noise it made when he finally got it open.

"Ow."

His face curled in open amusement at Neal's wistfulness about it all and how comfortable he'd become with embracing what Neal used to be. The true test hadn't come about yet; Raylan doubted it would here and he was glad for that. Glad to pass it over.

He winced with the sound too, one finger reaching up into his own ear to wiggle it like he could dislodge the sharpness left behind by it.

"I'd ask why you didn't just break the glass but I'd rather us not go home with blood for Doc to clean up." He peered over. "What'd'a we got?"

"Usually, I'd say it's because it's better not to leave more evidence of your presence than necessary. In this case, habit."

He sounded distracted, though. He ignored the dusty treasures on the upper shelves, focusing instead on a little ledger tucked into a corner of the bottom shelf.

"Hello there." He extracted it carefully, dusting it off and straightening up.

"Someone will probably thank you for that later," Raylan agreed with a bob of his head as he ambled around the long way to draw up to Neal's side, head tilted in to half inspect the ledger Neal was pulling out.

"Inventory list?" he guessed. Keeping track of what was kept in these kinds of cases wasn't really his gig. He assumed that that fell under Neal's purview too. "Odd place to stash anything though."

He makes a soft noise of agreement, immediately opening to the back of the ledger. He has to flip forward a few pages before he finds anything, but there--the last entry.

"April 2nd, 1993," he says softly. He turns the book in Raylan's direction and holds it out for him to see. "What do you make of this? T.F. could be someone's initials."

April 2, T.F., Gull apt.
— book, Ashbury
— pendant, gold
— box, wooden

His brow pinched further as he took the book and looked it over. Something in the back of his head itched as he mentally ran through all the paperwork that he'd already seen. Which was, frankly, a fuckton.

"Is this a Sell list? T.F. hasta be initials... Might be a bought list.. No index/item number for 'em though." Which suggested the former to his mind. "We can look at the Gull later. Or once we get outta here.." Glancing around, Raylan found and pulled over a lined notepad and a dusty pen, scribbling the information down. "We should leave the book here. In case anyone else comes lookin'."

"Yeah..." Neal takes the book back, leafing through the pages. He's definitely coming back, seeing what else he can glean from the ledger. But having something to act on now is too appealing for him to do it right this moment.

He sets the ledger back where he found it, the only now-dust-free object in the space. There was something unsettling and lonely about that at the same time.

"I think if we're looking for something useful, we might want to follow up on that entry now. The fact that it's the last one..."

He's not sure what it says, but he know it says something.

The paper is torn off the pad and folded up to be shoved in Raylan's pocket as he looked back towards the back of the shop. Something about the shadows in the crooked almost falling stacks put the hair on the back of his neck at attention. "There's somethin' else here," he muttered, not fully realizing that he'd said that thought out loud before he nodded.

"Better to strike while the iron is hot maybe, yeah. Maybe Mathis is in a givin' mood tonight. Must be your face," he teased passingly, nodding again as he stepped around the counter again, heading towards the door.

"This place'll still be here for further nosin' around if I want to." He paused. "Are you gonna relock the case or leave it open for others?" Would Mathis relock it for them?

Neal slides the glass door shut with a little effort, re-locking it in a trice. "I want to come back and get another look at that ledger later."

He straightens up, flashing Raylan a winning smile as he hops the counter again. "Take Mathias on a second date."

He noticed Raylan's distraction, though. He noticed that look back toward the back of the shop. Neal looks that way himself, dusting his hands off with extra care for quiet that's more instinct than intention. "What is it?" he says, voice soft.

He hopped that counter way too well. Not that Raylan would say anything about that, smirking at the million dollar smile cast his way. "Tough to get under her skirts without a crowbar or a brick, hopefully you ain't got reason to use either one of them."

Raylan pulled open the door with a breath and a long look back into the stacks. "I dunno. Gut feelin' maybe. Somethin's hidin' here. Somethin' that'll.. explain somethin'." He shook his head again. "Somethin' to look at another day, maybe."

Something he desperately wanted to get to the bottom of. Normally a nugget would tide him and his single mindedness over, but this shiny bobble hadn't quite managed that.

"C'mon," he said quietly with a little downturn of his face. "Before Mathis changes her mind."

Neal follows, glancing back one more time before he lets the door to the antique shop close. Yes, he'll be back. "Let me know when you want to take a look."

He doesn't like the idea of Raylan going in there alone, now. Maybe it's his own instincts, maybe it's just paranoia, but he feels like nothing good would happen to the man if he did.

Raylan could breathe easier outside, but the hot stone in his stomach hadn't moved after such a long thought about what the antiques shop held and he looked back at Neal with a softness to his features.

"Alright. If you wanna come." That on it's own was something - Raylan rarely said no to help but it was also so rarely offered that he didn't often have a chance to. "We can clear it together. I'd rather have you anyway, since you know more about art shit than I do. That and your lock pickin' skills ain't nothin'.."

He clapped a hand on Neal's back. "Let's go see what the Gull will give up."

He ducks his head to hide a little grin. "I mean, they're not nothing, but that lock would barely give an amateur trouble."

He's glad to put a little distance between himself and the antique shop. Give him a chance to think over what they found, what Raylan seemed to sense was there.

The Gull is as benignly melancholy as always, with its faded menus and mismatched furniture. "Upstairs, you think?"

"I know the basic theory behind pickin' one, but never bothered to learn the feel of it or get better. Not when I can just call the locals and their ram."

Less than delicate work, to be sure, but Raylan wouldn't have been able to pick that lock.

It was hard to believe sometimes when he looked at the Gull, that this was the first place to welcome them. That they'd been here at all, but the oddity of that thought alone was more than enough to get it shelved as they walked in.

"Note said Apartment, right? That's probably the best place to start. We can check the office, too, but I didn't see anythin' like what was described when I was going through it the first time."

"It's interesting, isn't it, that they would note where the items were going."

He's not sure what to do with that observation, not yet, but it's something to make note of. He leads the way upstairs, looking around the little apartment. "So, Mr. Marshal, do we start subtle or toss the bed?"

"Maybe they were lookin' to recollect. Maybe they were due payment from whoever T.F. is."

Raylan sighs at the apartment as they got there and shook his head faintly at the question. "I say toss the bed. I'll check the floors, old place like this, likely a chance of there being a space to tuck stuff."

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028-029 » the winds of change

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