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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To be fair, he's probably hanging around out of sheer masochism. He's expecting another outburst or three before Raylan really runs out of gas, though he's not sure how big of an explosion he should be watching out for. Doc figures this place is too small to be able to escape it unscathed, at any rate.

He starts shedding out of his coat and only retrieves his knife once his arms are out of the sleeves.

"Here." He offers his bundle of coat to Raylan. "I've got enough layers on. You're not dressed for this." Again, he doesn't mention. Nor does he mention the possibility of spending the night here. But no doubt he was thinking it before he took off his coat.

Raylan never really ever ran out of gas, just like his guns were always loaded but there was nothing left to push him, down here. Doc would have to put in work to get Raylan pissed off at him enough to snap again.

He caught the starts of the jacket tug, kicking himself for not knowing it would lead to such a thing, and furrowed his brow a little, gesturing out to protest just in time for Doc to stick the coat out at him. He let out a little breath, hand drooping back to a more casual kind of pointing that Doc generally seemed to disapprove of.

"You're gonna worry if I say no, aren't ya?"

He didn't want any trouble and was more than pliable after his break in apology, shifting one leg down and in while the other cocked out the other way. Speaking from cigarette hosted lips, he tugged it on with a visible shudder of appreciation as he popped the collar and hunkered into the latent body warmth that bit away some of the cold in his shoulders. "Wasn't exactly expectin' to need more than the three shirts I got on for a walk next door. I'll wear my coat next time."

"I'm already worrying." There is nothing Raylan could say or do short of pointing at a neon EXIT sign that could alleviate the weight of fear and anxiety on his shoulders. Who knows, maybe the warmth and weight of the coat will keep Raylan simmering and not blow over again.

They should probably talk about it.

Doc doesn't want to, right now.

If they don't talk about the drinking, they don't have to talk about anything else that rocks their little rowboat that they're trying to keep afloat in the ocean.

"My fault we ended up here," he says quietly. Not as if Raylan could have known an impromptu visit to the brewery would have resulted in this. "Maybe we'll be down here a while." The hours can pass by like days. It's not easy to keep track and from Doc's experience it's better not to.

Taking off his hat, Doc sets it to his side so he can rest the back of his head against the wall.

"Did you find anything down there? Seems like you can get anywhere in town from down here. Maybe it'll even get us to the other side of the crack in the ground to meet your friend." The Shadow Man, or whatever Malcolm calls him.

Then he'd wear Doc's coat with no arguments. If it would keep Doc from poking that nest of feelings, he'd do whatever the older man wanted. If their previous conversations continued to track, he might get away with it too.

Raylan looked over at him, face drawn and softly serious. "No, it is not. You didn't push me down here." Now that. That they were going to need to talk about. Apparently, they'd have the time for it. The time wouldn't start weighing on Raylan for at least another hour; Doc would have to coach him down from that one.

But something Doc said had triggered an idea and Raylan leaned forward. "That's not a bad idea. Not today, not now but.." Raylan looked down the tunnel. "This tunnel is about the same depth as that chasm.. If someone finds a cave in, I'd bet money. Probably a way around it too - this is all..." He took and let out a deep breath. "Extensive.. I didn't make it far. Just a handful of yards down the junction.."

His eyes dropped down. "Couldn't go any further alone in the dark."

"Probably would have made you feel better if I did." Shove him in here and closed the door on him. Then Raylan would have another thing to be mad about and Doc wouldn't just be an almost-but-never-quite-innocent bystander having to keep a wary eye on Raylan.

"I really-- would not want to come with you. But if it's important to you, tell me so." He would get up, pat the dirt off his pants and try to pull himself together enough to go back down there.

It isn't going to get any brighter down here. Even if they did find all the hatches and opened up all the trapdoors to try and let some light in. Their torches barely work here and they're as bright as they can come. Even if they don't go exploring today, there is no telling that they would feel any better coming down here on a different day.

"No," Raylan replied with a half turn of his head towards Doc that did not include his eyes, which were promptly closed as he sank his head back and took another long draw from the almost finished cigarette. It had never been his habit but damned if he didn't understand it. Damned if it wasn't helping him, at that.

"No, it's not worth all that." It wasn't worth terrifying them both more - his pride didn't need that kind of superficial and ultimately useless abuse. He'd been kicked around enough tonight already. He turned his head, cracking an eye open at him.

"Henry, us bein' down here isn't your fault. Nothin' is gonna make me feel better about bein' here." His head lifted, both eyes opening to focus on Doc. "You know I'm not pissed off at you right? I've been pissed at this place since I got snagged off to the lighthouse - something is fucking with us. You and me both." He set his head back to where it had been, eyes finding a simple nothing to focus on, on the faint cast of light they had.

"I like you. Probably more than I should."

"Okay." He can't help but be relieved at that. He would rather sit here, honestly, until his anxious mind has completely resigned to being trapped here. It's only at that point that inspiration might strike and prompt him to check somewhere or do something that did not occur to him before. Until then he's a bundle of nerves and zero healthy coping mechanisms to deal with this.

"We all need to blow off some steam from time to time." Especially in a place like this where unsettling things that keep them tightly wound keep happening and the avenues for letting it all out are few and far between. For his part, Doc feels like he's been fucked with since he got TB. The events that have transpired to bring him and trap him in Mathias should feel different from getting shafted by life and its constant curveballs, but it doesn't. Not really.

"Careful now - Malcolm might hear you. But you're alright I suppose. For an asshole." Doc snickers.

Raylan couldn't help but huff a bitter breath of disagreement. "That was not blowin' off steam. Gettin' into a bar fight, that's lettin' off steam. Bustin' a bad guy, havin' a reason to chase someone down, that's blowing off steam," he continued lightly with a final draw off the cigarette butt that he'd smoked down to the point of the faint smell of filter to creep into the air and flicked it skillfully off into the distance.

He didn't smoke.... anymore. But clearly, he'd had the habit, at some point.

Grinning, Raylan lifted his eyebrows at Doc before turning his gaze back to that nondescript point of the ceiling that somehow let these words fall out of his mouth.

"He knows. And if he didn't, I'd tell him to his face." His head turned, face awaiting the next carefully calculated deflection. "But it takes one to know one and it still hasn't stopped me."

"Well if it's a bar fight you want I would happily oblige." Wrestling in the dark wasn't how he'd pictured passing the time but if it helped Raylan feel better about their current predicament - why the hell not? Even if he does have at least 20 pounds of muscle on the Marshal. Although Raylan probably has some tricks up his sleeve to level the playing field.

"I do. Like you too." Now is as good of a time as any to say it. Not that he thinks they are going to be running into trouble any time soon, but. Since it's just the two of them. Might as well. "You already knew that though."

"Let Dean and me turn the Gull into a bar again, then we can talk about it," he huffed unable to bring any real levity to his features. "Wouldn't do either of us any good down here," he continued a little more quietly.

His smile pulled again, eyes staying safely where they were.

"Always nice to hear that my guts not wrong," he assured, finally glancing back over at Doc. "Shame we didn't come down with a bottle, we'd have somethin' familar to pass the time with. Mighta made us feel better, somethin' sharp to drink.." His head turned back.

"Can I ask you somethin'? If it's too much, talkin' about it down here, that's fine but.. how the hell did you pass so many years down there?" Did he have any great tips for passing the time down here, is what Raylan was really going after, but he was also genuinely curious. How long does it take for madness to set in, in the dark damp? How long could they fend it off?

"Actually, I did." Doc leans to one side to retrieve his hip flask. Although it's not full, he hasn't touched it because he had been a bad boy last night. But that doesn't preclude Raylan from having one. He tosses it casually into Raylan's lap while contemplating Raylan and Dean opening a bar. Maybe it's not so crazy, doing some renovation to 1306. Maybe it's okay to make things work in a more permanent setup without thinking about settling in for the long haul.

"Think I should hold off on the drinking today. If I was a pain in the ass this morning I do apologise." Look, he can't possibly have a drinking problem if he has this level of self-restraint, right? Right?

At the mention of how he passed the time, Doc hums and sighs, rolling his shoulders and fidgeting again to make himself comfortable.

"The well led to a spring. After I was done yellin' and... felt confident enough to move again, I went to explore it. Found a corner to make myself comfortable in. Thought about every way I wanted to kill the witch. Slept more than Malcolm would have for a hundred lifetimes. Built the best sandcastles and wrote the best verses in the mud that no one will ever see. Named every brick I could reach. It-- the isolation was worse."

"Shit, really?" Color him surprised, though he admonished himself for it afterwards. Of course someone like Doc would have a hip flask. He knew other Marshal's that had the same and was trying his best to avoid following suit, but he'd never really thought about it in Doc's context. Raylan didn't hesitate in spinning the cap open and tossing back a swallow.

"You were stubborn, but no where close than I've ever had to deal with," he assured kindly, slowly closing the cap again. Nothing to apologize for, nothing he couldn't handle.

He nodded slowly at the answer, the flask was held back out to Doc - yeah, not going to have any drinks, sure. "Well, you've got company this time, as annoyin' as I might be. I think I'd die before we ran outta bricks though. For all the questions I got, this place seems... fairly well built." The compliment was begrudging at best.

"You don't happen to sing do you? It'd sound great in here."

He's tempted to ask what Raylan has had to deal with but maybe they can save those stories for their next drinking session. Holding the flask in his lap for now, Doc's eyes glaze over the walls in their vicinity and he scoffs over the song request. He doesn't even sing to himself in the bathroom despite its superior acoustics. Maybe the most he would do is hum a tune no one knows anymore.

"I do if you do," he half-jokes, half-challenges. He's not making an ass of himself if Raylan isn't volunteering and going first.

"Mm, I don't. Don't dance either." Raylan was pretty sure that none of the Givens had ever sang or danced outside of a wedding. Nothing outside the small church organ that he was sure had been pushed onto someone. He'd only ever been good at a few things; shooting, taking a hit, and being on his own.

He could probably be persuaded to dance if either of the ladies in 1304 dragged him into it, but even then he would just hold wherever is appropriate to hold them and do a slow waddling sort of thing, trying his best not to step on their toes as he steps from side to side. That's about the extent of what he thinks he's capable of, anyway.

"Have you found anything familiar that you like listening to back home in the record store?" He should like to sample some of Raylan's music. They can probably withhold judgement about each other's tastes if they manage not to pass any comments about what they end up handing to each other, should Doc be able to listen to a few things from the 20th and 21st century and find something he likes and is willing to share.

If only Raylan could show Doc the dancing they did down in Harlan - though he doubted that clogging was going to be in his wheelhouse. Raylan had never had the rhythm for it; Boyd took that one fair and square.

Raylan hummed in acknowledgement. "A few things. Couple of country albums, few Tom Petty ones.. A 45 single of the most famous song in Harlan.. Some classic rock, little Eagles.. Not a lot, but it's somethin'. Figure I'll talk Dean into leavin' the record player at the Gull and play 'em there. See how many I can't drive off with it."

Most people didn't like country unless you were in or from the country, he'd found.

"You poked around in there yet?" He didn't think Doc would know any modern music.

"Are the two of you really going to turn the Grey Gull into a saloon? I suppose bartendin' might teach you some manners," Doc muses with a crooked smile. There would have to be some rules or Raylan would have to drag his drunk ass out and throw him out with the trash every night.

Pursing his lips and nodding a few times in the dark, Doc indicates with a grunt that he had heard of Tom Petty and the Eagles and he approves, even though Raylan can't see him nodding.

"No. I had a walk around when I first saw the place, but. Wouldn't know what to look for. Maybe you have to take me there sometime." Making plans after they get out, like it's assumed there will be an 'after'. It's helping to calm his nerves and settle him. Even if Raylan is planning on messing with him with Nicki Minaj or something horrendous.

"Been a while since someone has taken me out." For a date, he means, not out back and getting shot.

"Hey, I got manners," he argued almost playfully. "But yeah. Gives me somethin' to do. Gives him something to do. I've been in enough bars, even tended one for some extra cash through collage." He'd slung a few bottles and learned how to best swing that Southern charm and smile.

Raylan huffed a half a laugh, head rolling back against the stone.

"Let me cook you dinner first and we can call it a date. We can stop by the clothin' store, goin' on a shoppin' spree. Find an extra pack of smokes or somethin' for dessert."

"Sounds like we might need another tub," Doc muses. Maybe even break out those packets of frozen berries to make gin. They have time travellers and magicians, they shouldn't need to wait the full time it would take to age their alcohol.

It would be the ultimate hipster move that neither of them would understand enough to find amusing, to take a fellow hat out on a date and pick up some clothes, visit a record store, have dessert. Even if Doc might warily stare and scowl and have a short rant about cheesecake. Why would anyone do that to cheese?

"Well. At least you're not taking me for a cheap whore you can solicit in the latrine." That was a jab at Negan, and even though Negan isn't here to appreciate it, he imagines that Raylan would after everything he had mentioned this morning. "I would gladly accept your offer."

"Could always steal one," Raylan suggested. "I'd say we could hunt out a house with more room nearby but I like bein' right next door to it." For various reasons, only some of them safety.

Of course, Raylan was using the term 'date' in the loosest possible term, more akin to lunch date on a calendar than flowers and wine. He'd try not to notice all they were missing was the proverbial flowers, since their near nightly drinking sessions checked off the 'wine' box. Don't worry Doc, he's more an ice cream man. Something creamy to lick.

Raylan lifted his eyebrows, amused at the jab, craw filled with yet another probably annoying question, and opted for something significantly more neutral for the moment.

"That mean you're gonna be less than an arms length away at some point?" He wouldn't note the time - day, night, hours; the sense of it hadn't started stretching yet. All he knew was that the darkness made distance nebulous and far reaching in a way that was starting to scratch at his nerves. "Since you're gladly acceptin' offers an all."

Doc samples the goods on the regular before they even make it to the final phase of being bottled up, placed in the crate and brought back over to 1306. He knows of these various other reasons.

"That depends. You gonna hit me in a way I do not enjoy?" Doc teases back, finding the tension that sat awkwardly between them, drawing an outline neatly around it and cutting it out with the precision required to work a scalpel. It brings some light to the elephant in the underground chamber without focusing too much upon it.

Doc shuffles in closer until he bumps his knee against Raylan's and the outer edge of their boots thud against each other's. Sitting with the sides of their butts touching is probably too close, so there's still a sliver of space between them.

"Might get colder than this, later." Doc doesn't want to quantify how much later. But they'll probably know when the temperature drops in the middle of the night.

He knew they were joking. That they were circling something else all together but the idea of hitting on Doc in a 'way he didn't enjoy', slingshoted him back home. Back to Arlo. Back to the angry abusive man he was trying in all his power to not become. Doc having sat outside of arm's reach was its own statement that he felt directly reflected on his break in temper.

But the darkness's yawning reach snapped back like a rubber band at the casual bump of their knees and boots. It was grounding - someone he knew was alive and real and here, not whatever crawled up out from the back of his head. It made breathing a little easier and a little less hard to draw.

"Might have to get close and share this coat of yours then. Or trade it off. Latent body heat and all.." He shuffled deeper into the coat like he could stock up on the warmth of it and chewed over whether he should reassure Doc that he wasn't that kind of puncher, or if it was pathetic and pointless to clarify what kind of man he was. Wanted to be. "Or we walk back and forth til we're tired or hot, one of the two."

"Mmm. You would just get hungry sooner." There's no real need to run around moaning and wailing reciting a dramatic soliloquy asking why God had forsaken them until they're all out of gas. Sitting next to each other will suffice.

"This would do me fine, just sitting here." Raylan... hadn't been terribly opposed to sharing a bed with him before. They can... huddle. Hopefully without too many comments. If it's between something clawing in the roof or under the floorboard trying to get to them, or this kind of relative silence save for their breathing, talking and clothes shuffling, he would much prefer this.

"Think you'd be able to get some sleep?" Maybe they wouldn't be able to hear Malcolm screaming from down here.

"I ate dinner; I'll be fine." You work enough 3 day stake outs, you get used to a little hunger. Still it would have taken energy that Raylan didn't have loaded up. "But this is better, for now."

He couldn't help but huff half a laugh at the question, looking over at where he knew Doc's face was. "No way in hell. Do you?" If Doc said yes, Raylan would be shocked.

Of course, after enough hours and enough silence and enough contact, Raylan would inevitably dose, but any actual sleep was off the table completely. It wasn't in his nature to sleep underground or in caves. There was too much that could happen down here. Too much that could happen above them. What if someone did come looking for them? He couldn't stomach the idea of missing the opportunity to get out because of some shut eye.

"Not yet. I am worried, about Malcolm." And yes, their predicament also. That should go without saying. But what if they could hear Malcolm screaming from down here and he just ends up screaming without anyone to help him? It would be a new kind of torture he would not wish to be put through. Malcolm should be fine with Neal and Negan around. But he doesn't trust them to the same level as he trusts Raylan. Not yet, anyway.

He doesn't know how well this place would be able to sustain a string of aftershocks, either. But he doesn't want to say that aloud, not wanting to breathe life to an idea that might also keep Raylan unnecessarily preoccupied, worried, and on high alert.

"Once he's settled and nothing comes to get us, I might consider it." Or just pass out here from sheer exhaustion before that. That would work too.

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