The Village Mod (
villagemod) wrote in
villagelogs2021-01-22 03:40 pm
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Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- elijah mikaelson (the vampire diaries),
- ellie (the last of us),
- klaus hargreeves (the umbrella academy),
- malcolm bright (prodigal son),
- ~ alex millar (being human),
- ~ claire novak (supernatural),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ dean winchester (supernatural),
- ~ helen magnus (sanctuary),
- ~ john constantine (dc live action),
- ~ melanie king (magnus archives),
- ~ sam winchester (supernatural)
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"



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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.
Day 29
The Treeline
Most people didn't know this but Raylan was quite good in the woods. Could move silently and felt the need to know the land that was around him. Miami was easy, all you needed was a map, but this place was far more like Harlan in that way. No one knew the ways around the place except for the people that would have lived here. Without a native to help, they'd have to figure it out themselves..
.. If this damned fog ever rolls back. Still, Raylan starts with his closest treeline and follows it around until he hits the fog of the gap, turning just enough in his path to cross over the middle point towards the other side and work his way back down. He was looking for something specific - A path, a trail, a marker of any kind. They had to know where they were going. It had to be here somewhere.
--[OOC: Same gig! He'll be at the town hall and sticking close to his people this evening, so the daytime is the best time to catch him if you want to.]
Take a Ride on The Treeline
He spots Raylan head out of town proper toward the trees.
He pauses from afar, unsheathing his choice of weapon: kitchen knife, before following him in.
Doubling back, as Raylan walks along the treeline, he's going to reach Dean Winchester with his feet planted. His arms are crossed and the knife is tucked under one arm, flat side pressing against his chest. It's not a safe way to hold a knife, but he needs it at the ready just in case.
"I'd join you in the fog, but, I can't die anymore than I already have. Got a little brother to look after again." This is Dean with Raylan. Always casual. Always nonchalant. "You're not jumping into the fog, right?"
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Which made it a little impressive that Dean had posted up far enough that Raylan wouldn't have seen him cross the land. Meant they sat on a faint hill. Or Mathis was fucking with him again. Either was possible.
The Marshal walked up, eyebrows lifted in a faint but obvious amusement and stopped a good ten feet away. It's not that he doesn't trust you Dean, but body languge and this place being what it is has Raylan on his guard. There was a lot bouncing around up under his hat right now. Better safe than sorry.
"I hope that means I can count on you tryin' your best to not die again." It wasn't a question. "Nah, not if I have a choice.. I've got my own responsibilities to look after." He couldn't put Doc and Malcolm through that; he knew how that badly that would shake them.
"When'd your brother show up?"
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If Dean were to guess, Mathias fucked with them. That, and, Dean is good at what he does. He needs to sneak up on someone, he will. This isn't a need, though. This is sticking his nose in Raylan's business.
"Not looking to," he admits. He's not one to talk about any time he's thought dying would be easier on everyone, or would be the solution. That's not what's happening here. "Yesterday afternoon. He woke up in the snow in front of Town Hall. Looked like a lost giraffe." He smirks as he explains. He has a lot of love for his brother. He's excited for everyone to meet his perpetually exasperated, taller, younger brother.
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"So we got both the Brothers and.. What is Claire to you? Adopted daughter - niece type situation? Or are we goin' with non-binary familial ties. Dry as that sounds." He'd heard it before, at any rate. "Suppose that means I should feel comforted if any boogeyman come out of the woods. What brings you out here?"
Specifically, out here today.
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Dean keeps in step with Raylan as they walked the fog line.
"Claire's family. Niece if - we defined it like that." He doesn't share that her father is Castiel's vessel and that brings with it a host of other issues for her. Or, it did. "Maybe little sister." Scrappy one, too. "I've threatened bartenders on her behalf."
Not really on her behalf, more because he wanted to.
"And, I patrol now. If I'm not locked up somewhere, twice a day I walk the town, the beach, the graveyard. Just in case." It worked. He found Sam. "What about you? Any more fog insight?"
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"Glad to see her back on Phillips Drive and with people she knows," he commented genuinely with a nod of his head. "She reminds me of a kid I know back home."
He glanced over and gave half a shrug and a shake of his head. "I walk the fog line every day that I can, seein' where it stops, if it moves, how much land we gain or lose. Seems to change every couple of days. I'm waiting for it to pull back. Doesn't hurt that I run into a new face or two - It's how I met Neal, matter of fact. Don't know that there's anyone else, aside from you now, that's mindin' it. Keeps me busy."
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"I don't really mind the fog-line," he admits. "I mind new people. New buildings. The fog ever physically move while you walk it?" He'd be pretty freaked if it did. He knows what it can do. "Or, does it only pull back and come back in overnight?"
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Oh yeah. He was proud.
"Not while I walk it, no, but when it's not peelin' back to give us the town hall or the clothin' store, it's inching closer from the inside of the treeline. If I could go in there, I could get around without much trouble but since we're not allowed.. makes me think there's somethin' in there we ain't supposed to find yet.. How's your brother takin' the rundown of the place?"
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"Allowed? More like, will kill us," he says. "And Sam took it on the chin. It's not his first other reality rodeo. And things were less screwed up for him back home than they were for me. Sam'll be fine."
More than fine. He'll dig into this place proper.
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"He's gonna be one of the few, I suppose. But I'm glad to hear it. Last thing we need is more fragile minds here. Dangerous place, to put people and then poke them. I keep tryin' to tell myself it's not going to end with all of us goin' to war with one another."
If he could avoid such dark thoughts, he would, but he'd seen the worst of man. Man wasn't kind. Man wasn't inherently good under stress. And they didn't need traditional weapons to go to that war.
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"You're afraid it will," he says. Dean's under no false terms that man is inherently good. It's not. Never has been. Man goes off. He's seen it. "Most we can do is fight that from happening. Fight any urges." He hasn't had any. Just drinking urges. "We can turn a second house into a distillery. Make a real bar. Give em a place to drown sorrows or air grievances."
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"Course I am. Place like this, nowhere to go, all of us packed in and panicked. We've already got a distillery - 1307. Doc and I have already converted it. We've got the bar too, up at the Gull. Better suited for a group of people. I could stake a few bottles of shine up there for the bar though. Start the process. Leave somethin' for the new ones that wander in. That's not a bad idea. But drinkin' can only do so much and some things don't wait for times to air them. We'll see, each day on its own here, I suppose."
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wrap?
Yeah sure, let's ftb, let them chat on and handwave some small talk.
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"No." Leave him alone. He doesn't want to get up. Doesn't want to go to some town hall meeting. Doesn't have anything of import to share - and even if he did, he is supremely hung over and mentally preoccupied with. Other things.
"Got'cher own goddamn chair." No means no, Raylan. Leave the stubborn yeti be on the couch.
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"Look, I get you don't like crowds when they ain't buying ass or whiskey, but you know how small towns are. We all gotta go, c'mon," he said, patting Doc's arm with the heavy suggestion that he get up from the arm of the couch like he was a grown man. "Sorry this wasn't on the drinkin' calendar but you gotta tell people about the museum. They deserve to know, so .. get up, c'mon."
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"I already told 'em about the museum. There be a dozen polite 'go away' signs stuck all over it." If people won't respect the signs why the hell would they listen to some asshole preach about it? Speaking of which, he needs one of those 'go away' signs right now to stick on his face.
"Nobody even wants me there." And by nobody he means the organiser because he recognises that handwriting. "And I don't want people to know I'm in town." Nevermind that he's been enough of a wandering social butterfly that he's met more than half the town on his own. The number of people who know he's that John Henry Holliday he can still count on the one hand. And he would like to keep it that way.
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There was Some Concern.
But for now, Raylan took a deep breath in through his nose and squatted down to be on Doc's level, one hand settling on Doc's left upper arm - half to steady himself, half to try and get Doc's attention off the carpet and onto him.
"It's very rude to call me nobody, what happened to your manners," he chided with a mock serious tone and a lift of his eyebrows, belayed only by the twitch of the edges of his lips. "You know as well as I do that people can't read, generally speakin' and ignorance is only gonna turn out to put more bodies on our doorstep to bury out back." Those were the easy points.
"What do you mean you don't want anyone to know you're in town? You know what the story is - you can play it. Tell 'em what they know. Keep the truth to yourself if you want, they got no rights to know you, but you still need to come.. Go around this town often as you do with gift baskets of concern and care, you don't think they don't already know you're in town?" C'mon now.
Despite the words, his tone was light, however matter of fact. Good natured.
"You ain't even gotta stay to talk afterwards."
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"Some people know some asshole who calls himself Henry has taken up residence in 1306 Phillips Drive. Occasionally they show up bleeding out of a few gashes and holes and they know they can get that kinda problem fixed here. What else is there to say?" Most of the things he has learnt don't lead anywhere. The photos, the museum, the phantoms, the spirals in the ceiling. They're just dead ends that will encourage some young fellow to go do something stupid. He would rather not contribute to some reckless fool's untimely demise.
"This is the one day I wanna stay here," he tries to bargain. Doc is never around inside the house at this time, but he's tired and nursing one hell of a self-inflicted headache. "You should go. Learn what you can."
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Raylan gave him a look. He had tried the kid gloves, the nice path; Doc was pushing him towards frustration now.
"Now you decide to not be the Sunday church service welcomin' everyone with a basket of goods and a shoulder to lean on. Don't make me use your name. Take some aspirin, have a cup of coffee, put on a nice face and tell these poor stupid people why the Museum is dangerous. It was what, you and Negan? I don't know if he's goin'," Raylan said with a glance up the stairs, "But you both got to. Perspective is important, especially in the situation we're in, don't get these people killed outta their own ignorance."
It was a strategy, but one he stood behind. So what if he was using a little bit of guilt to motivate the good doctor from his couch post.
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Taking a deep breath in, he nods a couple of times, moving head of hair visible against the cushion. Fine. He'll get up. Just- not right now. He wants to feel sorry for himself for a few more minutes. Especially if only Raylan's watching him in this sorry state. If any one of the other three showed up he'd be up and out of the couch like he'd drunk only water last night and he's ready to take on the rest of the day.
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"There any particular reason you hit the bottle extra hard yesterday?" Normally, he'd offer a casual out on the other side of that statement but.. No. Not today. Not after.. what almost happened a few nights before.
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"Am I under arrest?" he counters, too tired and hoarse to have any bite in those words. Pulling the cushion away so he doesn't sound so muffled, he looks over at Raylan, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch the only evidence that he hadn't become a boneless lump overnight.
"I had one bottle and couldn't stop." He thought they had an agreement about not talking about their drinking. Folding his arm back, he closes his eyes and scratches his eyebrows, breathing out a sigh. "It happens."
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"I'm older than you are now, unless you had some liquor to cure your liver down where you were-" He wasn't going to say 'well', he could intimate it without drawing such sharp attention to it. "But we both know it's still a choice. Get down into your own bullshit so why bother stoppin, right?"
It wasn't the drinking that was the problem. It was the kinda drinking fueled by whatever was in Doc's head that had him gripping to the couch like it was life raft and Raylan was asking him to go swim in the ocean. He'd seen a lot of sides to Doc. The petulant one was new.
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Wynonna really brings the petty, stubborn, sulky adolescent out of him sometimes, but he hasn't really had the opportunity or given himself the space here to be anything more than a man who compartmentalises everything but is capable of the occasional melodramatic spiel that deceives everyone into thinking he is just as expressive about himself as when he's telling a story or giving someone else advice.
Doc rolls his wrist and flicks the cushion squarely at Raylan's face like a basketball before propping himself up on his elbows, pulling his legs in close. It's a terrible mistake to be moving but he's starting to get up anyway so he might as well just follow through. Turning over his shoulder, he reaches behind him to grab his hat. The more the hem of his shirt rides up the more it appears as though he's got the history of the Frontier carved into his skin.
Once his fingertips brush the rim of the hat and pulls it in closer, he swipes it off the table and sits up in one smooth motion, affixing it on top of his head and letting his fingertips drift down and fall away from the hat.
"I haven't been to Sunday church service in over a hundred years. God can wait a few more minutes." While Doc gets his shit together. He's a different man with the hat alone, but a coffee and aspirin, as suggested, and a cold shower and a fresh change of clothes wouldn't hurt.
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He didn't know if Doc's sinking into the couch was a concession or not, but there was no mistaking what the pillow flying at his face meant, and he laughed a little as it fell away, grinning foolishly. Well, it was movement and he didn't have to use his commanding voice, so it was a victory over all. He didn't hold the petulant against Doc, if he couldn't be a little petulant in front of Raylan, Raylan obviously wasn't doing his job.
Raylan saw the hints of scars from under Doc's shirt - questions for another time. The gunshot wound was an easy guess - A gunslinger getting shot wasn't extraordinary, but Doc had clearly been through more.
He saw the way the walls were pulled back up with the seating of the hat, knowing far to well exactly what that was like. The hat was it's own protection, a security blanket of mystery that they could duck away from life from, give it the backs of their shoulders and not think twice about it.
"I'll start the coffee," Raylan said, patting Doc's knee before he pushed to his feet. He knew better than to push or talk any more about it - Doc had agreed and he wasn't going to chance him changing his mind. "Hair of the dog that bit you," he offered with a finger and a lift of his eyebrows in question.
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