001-003 » a chilling mathias welcome

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: The east end of Mathias, along the waterfront.
WHEN: Days 001-003
WHAT: The newest residents of Mathias Township are welcomed with a storm.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: A small love letter from your mod. This spot can be used for plotting.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Mara"

DAY 001
THE ARRIVAL BEGINS

Is it the whooshing crash of waves on dark jagged rocks that wakes you? Perhaps. It might also be the near-continuous rumble of thunder growing closer every second, the vibrations almost seeming to come from the wet sand beneath your hands. Or maybe it’s the shivering of your own body as water recedes from the pebble-covered shore, the cold sinking into your very bones as a chilled wind picks up. It could be any of these things that rouse you from a deep slumber that leaves you feeling groggy and out of sorts--

But it’s the fear that gets you moving. A deep, intense terror grips your chest and squeezes the breath right out of you, and you know without a shred of doubt that you have mere minutes before whatever it is you’re so afraid of arrives on that stretch of rocky beach to greet you. Even if you want to stay rooted to that spot and faced it head-on, your body betrays you, a survival instinct etched into your genetic code forcing you to seek shelter.

Welcome to Mathias. You should probably run now.



THE STORM ARRIVES

When the storm crashes into the small township, it's hard to remember what life was like before it. The ocean becomes a raging thing, waves rising and falling as if trying to attack whatever they can reach along the coast. Any foolish enough to venture along the beach have no hope of surviving the encounter; their bodies will be swept out with the current, gone in the blink of an eye.

The wind is a howling beast, screaming between buildings and driving spikes of cold into any crevice it can reach. The rain is just shy of freezing, every drop like a shard of icicle trying to itself into your skin. It will bite at your nerves and leave you shaking if you stay out in it too long, so you had best get inside if you haven't already. You certainly don't want to attract the attention of the lightning that arcs in the sky like a vengeful god ready to unleash its wrath.

The Grey Gull restaurant sits at the edge of the town along the beach, and just a few yards away are two parallel rows of houses lining what might be a picturesque street if the world weren't beginning to resemble an apocalyptic landscape.

Move quickly, and choose wisely.

DAY 002
THE STORM RAGES ON

The storm has somehow become even more violent overnight. The world outside your shelter might be trapped in an endless night, for all you can see through the thick covering of storm clouds. Lightning continues to streak across the sky, thunder following almost immediately in its wake, threatening just how near those spikes of electricity truly are. You can see them touch the shore at times, even the street between the homes, but never the buildings themselves. A blessing, perhaps, or an oddity to take note of?

Some may be foolish enough to try venturing outside. They are welcome to, of course, that is their right, but the rain is still like ice and that lightning is so very near. You may try heading further into town, and you can certainly see buildings beyond this row of houses, but should you walk toward them...

Well. It is far from a pleasant experience. Exhaustion sinks into your bones so quickly that it leaves you reeling, and every second you push through it makes you physically ill with a feeling that you might collapse at any moment. The second you turn away from that path, however, you feel infinitely, and even more so each step back the way you came.

Something wants you to stay where you are. Perhaps you should.

DAY 003
THE CALM DESCENDS

The third day begins much as the second, with waves crashing upon the shore and thunder booming with such force that the ground seems to shake. It feels very much like the world might end right there, torn apart by a force of nature unlike any seen before. Any who venture outside at this time are almost immediately afflicted with a terror so intense that they can make it no more than a few yards or the short distance to cross a street before they become incapacitated by the fear that sets their heart beating dangerously fast. The term scared to death may very well become literal this day.

And then, suddenly it stops. The rain, thunder, lighting— all if it just stops and the silence that fills the night is deafening. There are no sounds of life within the town, no car motors or dogs barking or the voices of anyone beside those new arrivals in the immediate vicinity. In fact, none of those things even exist in Mathias. There are no cars, no animals or insects, no other people. There is just... emptiness and silence.

It may be best to wait until daylight to move further inland.



THE NIGHT DARKENS

For those who are foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the cluster of houses near the Grey Gull, they will find their journey quite chilling, in a very literal sense. There is another row of houses beyond where they had been, branching off on either side into a neighborhood. There are no lights on in any of these homes, though there are occasional streetlights illuminating their way. But as they continue further, reaching a third block of houses, those lights begin to dim, until they have gone out completely, and what had previously been a simple fall chill becomes biting cold as the temperature sharply drops.

In all of this, there is silence. No sounds travel through that night air to comfort them, and even looking up to the sky stretched out above them offers little reassurance. That sky is black, without a single star and not even the faintest outline of the moon to guide them. All that reaches them here is the barest hint of light traveling from the way they've come. The longer they linger outside in this place, the colder it will become, and any light they carry with them will slowly begin to dim as well.

Truly, they should have waited until the sun rose once more.

---

LOCATIONS

THE GREY GULL is what one might expect of the most frequented restaurant in a small coastal town. The wrap-around porch is lined with white chairs characterized by peeling paint. Exposed wooden walls and worn seating speak to its many years of existence, and the mishmash of décor confirms that the owner never much cared for how the place looked. What mattered here was the food, and faded chalk menus advertise soup specials and a daily pie. The bar appears to have once been well-stocked, but all the bottles remaining are unfortunately empty. There is, however, quite a bit of food in the kitchen that is somehow as fresh as if it were purchased that day.

The second floor of the restaurant is a sparsely furnished apartment. There are no personal items to be found; perhaps it was waiting to be rented out to someone.

THE HOUSES are well-kept, middle-class homes, four lining either side of the street. Their doors are unlocked, windows unshuttered, and everything within feels like the owners might return at any second. There is running water and electricity, fresh food in the fridge, photographs on the wall... but also dust everywhere. If you didn't know better, you'd say the place had been abandoned for years, and yet nothing has aged. It is both strange and unsettling, and yet no matter how hard you search, no answers may be found within these homes.

What can be found within them, however, is a phone. One single black phone within a main room of the house, and beside it, a list of handwritten numbers and names that have been crossed out.

1302 8-5491 Thomasen
1304 8-9256 Lyrie
1306 8-4712 Anders
1308 8-3201 Mulcalley

1301 8-0415 Sanderson
1303 8-6762 Reese
1305 8-9132 Evers
1307 8-9025 Hirano

Should your character choose to shelter in one of the houses, you are welcome to choose the features of that particular unit. Please reply to the comment thread below with the details you decide upon, specifying the house number in the subject line.

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Comments

QUESTIONS?

[villagemod]

Use this space to ask general questions about this log and the circumstances presented within. Please direct more broad game questions to the FAQ.

[enduresurvive]

SO by "claim a house number" we mean pick one of the numbers listed here, right? Those correspond to houses? this is probably a dumb question, sorry orz

[waywardsister]

What kind of things can we find rummaging around the houses?

Pen, paper, cooking utensils, paper clips, occult spell books, keys to the house/rooms, other things of note?

[hellblaze]

Are there any details about the town that can be found at the Grey Gull? Things like: framed newspaper clippings about local sports teams/events (holiday parades ect), anything with the name of the town, pictures of the owners/regular patrons, is it a mom+pop shop?

[warfares]

is there anything particularly noteworthy about the evers house, specifically the family that lived there - i'm thinking any pictures that could be found in the house, specifically?

[tinstar]

House Hirano - We have question

- Any empty compartments in the walls, backs of closets, under floorboards, ect?
- Any safes, or shoeboxes in the tops of the closests or under the bed?
- Can he expect the general photo/decoration to match the others answered in other questions? Anything behind any of 'em?

[hellblaze]

botherbotherbother Mulcalley house!

- Any details on the people/persons that lived there? Family size, state of relationships, what jobs they had?
- Any sort of details that might hint at Mulcalley knowing/being close to the former residents in other homes?
- Furnished like the 1990s so... any electronics in the house (TVs?!) work besides the phone?
- Anything unusual or odd about the house itself that might stick out to the naked eye?
- What might John be able to find in the study? (update due to thread movement)

[enduresurvive]

Ellie's house has 2 floors. A garage. Probably a small attic.

There's a kid's room, parents' room, spare room, and office.

Is there anything worth finding here? (Ellie is most interested in weapons/things that can be modified to make weapons. In TLOU you gather things like rags, alcohol [not the drinking kind], antiseptic/first aid things, scissors, nails. But she's also observant and would try to figure out reasons the people are gone, why there's no sign of the infection from her world, whatever.

This is a terribly open-ended question, lmk if you need something more specific orz

[fika]

a bit late, sorry!! but what can you tell me about the Thomasen residence? what are some facts that five could glean from the 2-storey house?

for example, how many were in the household? what were their jobs? and, more relevant, are there working clocks in the house, and is he able to find a wrist watch?

are there maps of the township to be found (sorry if this was answered before!!)?

and effectively, to confirm, everything looks perfectly mundane and every-day, with absolutely no signs of struggle or otherwise?

thank you!!

day 3 night questions

[reydacted]

Say two individuals were in fact dumb enough to venture into the darkness on night 3 and are in fact dumb enough to keep walking into the darkness/silence

How cold are we talking, like potentially frostbite or hypothermia levels? Does the silence impact them (like if they talk to each other could they hear each other clearly, muffled, or not at all)? Are there obstacles they might stumble into?

For just the additional houses, are they unlocked and lived in the same as the houses on the occupied row? Anything strange or unsettling they might notice about them?

MOD INPUT

[villagemod]

Use this space to ping a mod to weigh in on your thread, such as if your character is searching quite specifically in a location or interacting with something that requires feedback.

[hellblaze]

re: this thread with doc!

John is about to cast a form of reveal spell. He's hoping he can kick up the energy in the Mulcalley house to "replay" (like a repeat haunting) the last events that happened in it. The context is the two talking about if the people in the house/town have just disappeared or not.

I figured the spell would either not work entirely, or misfire and do something else.

Day 3 Ill Fated Nightly Explore Question

[waywardsister]

Heeeey, as per this exploration in the dark into the neighbourhood, can you give us a rough idea of how far they get in their exploration and what they could potentially sport before the cold overwhelms them?

HOUSING

[villagemod]

Use this space to provide details for the house your character has decided to explore. Players are welcome to "claim" a house number and then edit comments to provide details later.

Logan Housing

[donthithimintheballs]

1303 8-6762 Reese

Logan is going to settle in this house. Not sure on details just yet! Will edit as needed.

If Anyone wants to share the home with him, hit me on the plotting post! We can design it together!

OTA: hit him anywhere

[tinstar]

Day One
Denim was a great fabric. Kept you covered, took abuse but it had its downfalls. Shit for keeping anyone warm and a different kind of hell when they were soaked all the way through, one that dragged at him and made his legs feel pounds heavier than they were. The layers of his shirts and long black jacket didn't help and made him shiver violently as he took what felt like his first breath in. The grit of the cold sand felt like a thousand little needles against Raylan's cheek and and palms at the act of pushing himself up to look around, ensuring he wasn't having some weird trip of a nightmare. Except the rolling grip of fear in his gut wouldn't let that assurance take hold.

There was no Baby Fingers with a stick of dynamite to shove down someone's throat, no Arlo larger than life with his clenched white fists swinging, but Raylan felt it anyway, like he was in a room that was closing in to crush him. Out on a beach. With no idea where he was, Raylan really had no choice but to get to his feet and get moving, stumbling across his soaked stetson on the way. He'd barely gotten it in his hand before he heard a crack of thunder that made everything in him scream to scramble out of it's way.

His eyes swept the beach, wincing reflextivly at the lightning and Raylan made his way up towards the buildings.

Day 1 - The Gull Restaurant.

He didn't like the look of the building but it'd do for cover from the pelting rain and howling wind. It was too close to the beach he'd washed up on, just like any of the other options, and if living in Miami had taught him anything, it was don't go surfing during hurricanes. Not that he could say that's what this was, but he didn't have any other context for something this angry and large. Soaked to the bone, Raylan rushed through the door, hat used as a shield against the elements and shook as much of it off him as the door slammed behind him.

Uselessly brushing off the water from his arms, Raylan looked around the restaurant and for anyone else that might have survived washing up. If there was anyone else.

Day Two

[tinstar]

There was something about the way the storm raged more incessantly outside the shutters of the Grey Gull that had Raylan stood staring out the window like a statue for a good hour before breaking into a casual pacing path, back and forth over the worn wood of the Gull's floors. Thumb propped against his bottom lip, he eyed the outside, recalling what he'd been able to see from the beach. He hated being pinned in somewhere without good reason. The storm, however violent it was outside, was a concern but not a reason in of itself to stay inside. He'd been wet before and hadn't melted, so he doubted the rain turned deadly. Just abusive. Well, that he could handle, even though his clothes still didn't feel fully dry.

There were no weapons here, not even a baseball bat which felt like some kind of small town sin to him, and that made him as antsy as diving back into the proverbial pool. The fear that had driven him in here was still sat low, coiled around the base of his neck and lifting all it's hairs. What if they were attacked? He could brawl but he'd rather have some leverage.

"To hell with it," he said to no one in particular as he walked over to grab his jacket and shrug it on. "I can't stay in here anymore, I'm pushin' further inland, as far as I can. Better to beat the storm surge, if there's going to be one." Living in Miami had given him some insight into hurricanes and this was as close to one as he'd seen.

"Be damned if I'm left stranded on some roof." Raylan headed towards the door, popping the collar of his jacket to wrap around him as tightly as he could to try and protect himself from the rain, one hand holding his hat in place.

House 1307

Raylan had pushed himself as far up the line of houses as he could, stopping frequently to try and catch the breath that the wind stole from him with every draw as he willed some of the feeling back into his fingers. He wasn't a smoker, stayed in shape, and had suffered all kinds of weather. Nothing quite like this and cowboy boots were shit in sand. Peering around the corner of the last house in the row, Raylan could barely make out the buildings in the distant but they were there. Good, he could deal with goals. He could make it that far.

Taking one last breath, Raylan pushed out into the wind again and past the house, fully intent on finding safer, better shelter. Within seconds, he felt like he was in quicksand or weighted down and had been struggling for hours, vision blurring around the edges as the urge to lay down right there threatened to overtake him. It was so strange that Raylan assumed it was from exertion and pushed forwards another three steps before collapsing onto his hands and knees, panting and trying not to hurl from it. What the hell was happening to him?

Day One \\\ Logan /// OTA

[donthithimintheballs]

The water washed up along his legs, lapping as the tide washed him in and then washed itself out. He doesn't remember being around water when he fell asleep. He doesn't remember falling asleep. It's been some time since his memory failed him like this, but waking up he growled.

Looking around, the wind started to blow harder, forcing him to move as he stood up. Started to chill his already wet body. He had been in Japan last he remembered. It was snowy. The cold didn't bother him there like this was bothering him. In a wet white tank top, fitted, and pair of dark pants and boots, he turned around, looking out at the water. "Mariko..." he said to himself, feeling like something tugged at his heart.

If anyone else was there, he hadn't noticed just yet. Instead he felt a panic hit him, in a wave of emotion. Like something was coming. Something was coming and he was PISSED. His heart beat faster and he sniffed the air, the wind not helping at all. "Marikoooo!" He yelled over the wind, leaning into it, arms out to the side, fists balled up. Ready to take on the ocean if he had to.

But the fear of something coming was making him move. Making him turn away and walk. He panted, and smelled something. SOMEone else. His claws dropped instantly, turning to look down the pebble shore to... a person.

he wanted to FIGHT something, but they lay there in the water, on the shore, much like he had. Maybe it was Mariko, or Yukio. Or... or... --with a grunt he put up the claws, though the fear still swept over him. He had to move.

"Hey! You!" he called out, moving towards the body. If someone was there maybe they were as lost as he was.

-----

Later, weather he helped someone in shore or not, he'd find himself at some bar or restaurant. The wood seemed old, the pint chipping, but it was a shelter. Shelter from where. There he had found place to settle down in a chair, looking over his knuckles. They hadn't healed. They were healing, but not really. Smaller, but his hands were bloody from the claws, and the open holes in each hand... bothered him. This wasn't right. He had fixed this! He took the thing out of his chest himself. Out of his heart. Why was he still not healing?

He sat there, bloody fisted and annoyed looking. There were others in the place, but he didn't take the time to talk to them yet. This was wrong and it was where his focus was. He should be healing.

He should be in Japan. He should be saving Mariko. HE SHOULDN'T BE HERE. Where ever here was. So many questions, so little care to ask them. As people milled about, out of the storm and rain, his dark eyes stared off at his hands half the time, or into the room the other half the time.

What was going on here?

beach

[waywardsister]

The figure Logan sees soon turns out to be a young woman. She's on her hands and knees on the beach, long blonde hair a wet curtain shielding her face. The first sound he might hear is not unlike a cough - or a choked back sob, maybe.

Claire's been list in a swirl of her own dark thoughts after realizing she didn't go home, and list more than just one loved one because of it. Her chest feels so full with emotion that she wants to vomit, and her cheeks are numb from trying not to cry her heart out.

She doesn't quite move other than flexing the fingers of her balled up hands in the sand occasionally, but when he calls out to her, the tension in her posture uncoils, making her reel up and back, and then to her feet. Her face is fet, the eyes red rimmed, but when her blue eyes meet his face, her jaw sets in a tight clench and her entire demeanor shifts from distraught to on guard immediately.

Her eyes drop to his clawed hands, and she snarls: "Hey, stay the hell away from me!"

Ellie | Day One | ota

[enduresurvive]

A; THE BEACH

Ellie doesn't remember a beach, or being on one. Yeah, there's a shoreline in Seattle, but she hasn't reached it yet. That's where she was heading. The aquarium. It was a shitty morning, with harder rain than she was used to seeing in Jackson. Fuck Seattle, honestly. That whole place was a nightmare.

This...doesn't look like Seattle, but that doesn't even make sense. She remembers going outside, bundled up in her jacket and a couple layers (like she is now, actually), but...well, now what? She must have gotten hit by someone or something. But she's not dead. She's pretty sure if she was, she wouldn't be feeling that lingering pain from the arrow wound in her shoulder, not to mention various other bruises or scrapes. Her head clears enough and she looks around for a second before pulling herself to her feet. Her bag is here, but...

"What the fuck happened to all my stuff?" she asks allowed. She has kind of a habit of talking to herself; she's not expecting an answer.

B; YOU SHOULD PROBABLY RUN NOW

Fear is a familiar feeling to Ellie, suffocating and nauseating all at once. It hits her and she's not sure why. There's no one else here at the moment. There's no Infected. It's just the ocean, which maybe is a little scary for someone who's only been able to swim for like three years, but...it's just the fucking ocean, right?

In the end, it doesn't matter. She decides to listen to her gut, because she's a survivor by nature. And you don't survive in a harsh world without listening to your gut at least sometimes. Back firmly on her back, she turns and darts across the sand. It's slow going at first, because sand isn't easy to run on, but she clears that beach and heads towards town. The first open window she spots is a side window of a house. She shimmies inside and slams the window shut, then sits there on the floor, back against the wall, breathing hard. Feel free to have seen her running and follow her, knock on the door, or find your own way into the house to encounter her here (she's starting off in the dining room).

[ plotting comment here if you want to plan things before we jump into them. Ellie's house number is 1304 8-9256 Lyrie. ]

day two

[enduresurvive]

A; for Rey
Ellie feels a little stir crazy by the next day. The storm rages on, just like the one that had blown in that morning in Seattle, the last thing she really remembers before the beach here. She's still sure this isn't near Seattle, but it's a pretty eerie coincidence, isn't it? Well, whatever. She still has that touch of fear, but...it doesn't feel quite the same.

In the early hours of the morning, Ellie comes out of the room she's barricaded herself in and back down to the living room. The storm rages outside and she feels keyed up by her own nightmares and the general uncertainty of the town. There's someone else here now, though, and she pauses in the doorway, still but on alert like a deer about to dart back off into the woods.

"Who the fuck are you?" she asks, never one for politeness, really.

B; for John Constantine
Anyway, she can't stay in the fucking house forever. She has to get back. What about Dina and Jessie? What about how fucking close she was to finding Abby, after all of it? That all still matters.

Outside, though, it's a nightmare. Sheets of water pour from the sky and thunder flashes above. The visibility is much worse than it was in Seattle, though. She can barely make out the buildings. But she'd noted, looking out the window, that there was some kind of bigger building, the restaurant or whatever it is, in the distance. She's got a good sense of direction.

What she doesn't have is much of a way to overcome that bone-deep fatigue that hits her only a few feet away from the house. It's like she hasn't slept in days. That wound in her shoulder aches. She feels like she's dragging. It's like being sick or something, but...that can't be right, can it?

She stops, still not at her destination, and leans heavily on a street sign, trying to work her way through it.

"Oh, man up, Ellie, for fuck's sake," she scolds herself.

Five Hargreeves ☂ Day 1 ☂ OTA

[fika]

DAY 1

I: run, boy, run

Five is stumbling up, sand harsh against knobby knees and a shiver setting in almost as soon as his senses return, as the ringing in his ears recedes, and he takes a steadying breath and faces the oncoming storm.

"Oh, come on," exasperation comes first before the fear does. Before there's something intrinsic telling him to run as the wind whips hair into his eyes and the cold cuts through his clothes. That sort of suffocating anticipation and goosebumps rush up his spine again, heart hammering hummingbird quick under his ribs. Alone, his mind echoes as he sets off in a sprint towards the town, but not without throwing searching glances all around him first. Did they do it again?, comes another thought, too quick and panicked to temper.

One might catch a blur of a lanky kid, running across and away from the beach. If he catches sight of someone else, he doesn't hesitate to teleport himself beside them as if it's nothing to even think about. The first question he will ask then, with no other introduction, is: "Hey - what year is it?"

II: You can't go back to Constantinople

The storm hits full force maybe twenty minutes after he first came to here, and just as he reaches the inn. He jumps himself inside when he's at most ten feet away, cold and tired and lungs stinging from the hard ocean wind. It's instinct more than thought, and he stumbles - very abruptly - into a table inside, careened forward by the momentum.

Five takes a second to straighten out his jacket, twist the flop of hair out of his face, and look around. If he finds no one inside, he will set to exploring the restaurant until he finds what he's looking for. He also pockets a butter knife, because that's the only thing he can find.

If anyone else comes indoors, they will see what looks to be a kid chugging a cup of coffee, haggard and tired and staring daggers outside, into the storm, a hand stuffed into the pocket of his shorts. He will start when he sees anyone else here, a brow raised along with his cup. "What a shitshow, huh?"

He says it with the knowledge of someone who has to go out there.

( plotting post here, or hit me up on berezka! i'm open to anything, and happy to toss him out there C: )

☂ Day 2 ☂ OTA

[fika]

DAY 2

I: the clock is moving, hands to midnight

Five wasn't good at waiting. He had to have a modicum of patience for his powers to feel strong enough to know he could reliably go anywhere in a shitshow like this - which was another facet of annoyance he would have to deal with at a later date.

The storm made no sign of stopping, and he was growing impatient, small stature wound tight as bowstring and jaw clenched at a table in the Grey Gull. Lightning streaked across the horizon, as he eyed the row of houses outside. Now or never. He had to check - he had to make sure that if there was a trace of his family, he would find it.

He's grabbed a couple of chocolate bars he's found in the kitchen, stuffed it into his pockets, and pushed himself forward with a blink of his power. The rain was like ice, tremendously cold and biting and it knocked the breath out of him for several unbearable seconds before he kept going.

Another jump of temporal blue. He's inside the closest house, hair plastered to his forehead and the rain already seeping through his blue blazer. The first house is empty, even as he calls out the names of the people he hopes to find.

Another blink. He's outside again, looking around, shout drowned out by the howl of the wind that feels like knives inside his lungs after each breath.

He teleports again. Back to a house. This happens one more time before he realizes he's pushed himself a bit too much and a bit too quick and the next house he teleports into will find him crashing into a wall, or a chair, with a loud clutter and lifting up dust. He's shivering again, pale and exhausted from the blistering moments spent in the storm or from the overexertion. It will take him a few seconds to notice if he somehow accidentally crashed into an already occupied living room, soaked and angry. "Should have brought an umbrella," he mutters.

II: in hell i'll be in good company

He settles, almost begrudgingly, into a house with the number of 1302 8-5491 Thomasen. There was no rhyme or reason to having picked it other than it was closest, and he was tired. It was stocked and dusty as all hell. But it kept the terrible weather out, and he needed somewhere to warm up before the hypothermia kicked in, or before he nearly stranded himself outside by overusing his jumps. Again.

It's funny, how quickly his survival instincts kicked in, falling into place like an old friend. He could go another lifetime without any of this. But especially now, with everything around him reminding him too much of the solitude of the apocalypse way back when, it is difficult to not let the panic get to him, as he sits down on a perfectly untouched couch and stares at the wall.

He alternates between pacing and staring out the window. If he catches anyone outside, he'll open the door, or the window and yell: "Hey. You should get inside!"

Should anyone knock, or call, he'll answer that too. Cautiously, of course, but with the confidence of someone entirely not harmless.

john constantine | ota [ DAY ONE ]

[hellblaze]

i. THE BEACH

The waves crashed. It wasn't so much the sound that woke him up, but the gnaw biting cold water that hit his body. The sudden shock like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on him. He gasped and scrambled up, coughing, looking around wildly at ... the beach.

A bloody beach.

John Constantine stood to his full height, eyebrows knit together, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. His hands instantly went to his pockets to take inventory of his cigarettes and trusted lighter. Both items accounted for. What he hadn't planned on was pulling out along string of...seaweed? Ocean leaf? No real name for it, and he didn't particularly care to know what it was called.

Namely because that was when the terror gripped him.

All the hairs on the back of his neck stood. He knew that feeling. It forced whatever air he had in his lungs back out. Coughing once again to anyone that might notice.

ii. THE GREY GULL

Scared shitless, what was John Constantine's first reaction? To find some dry cigarettes to calm his nerves. Thus he headed towards the nearest building. Luck was never really on his side. Which would explain the sheer amount of disappointment on his face when he stepped into the building to find it wasn't a store but a bloody restaurant.

"Oh, of course. Bloody brilliant. Thank you!" He tilted his head up and shouted at the roof--though really it was something higher than that.

John sighed and put a hand in his hair to shake the water out as he took a look around at his new setting. That terror was similar to a feeling he had only felt once before. It unnerved him; made him angry that he ran away as opposed to facing it. Not that he'd ever admit to it out loud.

Odd. None of it looked like Louisiana. Wasn't that where he had been?

day two | ota | 1308 8-3201 /mulcalley/

[hellblaze]

i. was walking down the street when out the corner of my eye.

Don't get him wrong. The Gull had been a lovely stay for a night, but, John was already feeling that itch to get out of dodge. For one, he wanted a proper shower and a proper bed. The lack of decent smokes had already started to get to him by the morning and he knew he wouldn't be the most... impressionable of people. Not that he usually was anyways.

Still! Time to get moving.

After stretching out his neck from the rather uncomfortable corner, John snagged his dry trenchcoat and slipped it on. Collar flipped up and lighter in his pocket, he quietly left the safety of the restaurant. Lightning cracked and illuminated the whole area for a moment. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow and took a few steps forward to track where it landed. He counted the seconds between each strike.

Then, he was off into the storm and making his way straight to the illuminated houses.

ii. when I saw the shadow of a man creep out out of sight.

The house John eventually ducked into was quaint, he supposed. How it looked or how large it was mattered little to him. What did matter was finding out that electricity worked perfectly. In fact, it was why he stood at the front door flicking the lights on and off a few times as his eyes scanned the area. No reaction. Not a sound. Plenty of pictures for the family though.

Interesting.

Well, since no one bothered to come in and shout at him? Might as well make himself comfortable. Dry clothes, bath, food in his belly before deciding what move to make next. He takes a quick note of the rooms in the downstairs: dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom, family room, and a laundry room tucked near the garage. Up the stairs was a proper bathroom and a few bedrooms.

Of course he doesn't bother to lock the downstairs door. It isn't like he's found the key to the place yet.

daisy johnson » day 1 ota

[chuju]

is anybody out there? — closed to max

[ It isn't the rumble of thunder that wakes her, or the crashing of the waves on the shore. They should have. Both sensations should have pinged her senses, the buzzing vibrations in her bones humming from the stimulus in the earth and the air. But there's nothing like that now, only the slightest tremor that is a ghost of what she usually feels.

No, it's the cold that wakes her. Biting, stinging, a wave of freezing water pulling on her like a blanket of ice. It leaves her gasping and shaking, thrown into wakefulness with a jarring jolt that does nothing to shake the disorientation from her mind. And then—

She wishes she could say it's been a long time since she felt fear like this, but that would be a lie. It's like an old unwelcome friend, setting in her veins and pushing her pale, trembling body to rise and run. But she can't just go, not as she looks around and realizes that she isn't alone. Not her team, not Coulson or May or Jemma or Sousa, but someone else. And she can't just leave them, that's not who Daisy Johnson is. ]

can you lead me to the light? — open

[ The Grey Gull. It's easy to guess what the restaurant will look like when they get inside, the picture the outside paints perfectly matching the interior of the building. The wind whistles in through gaps in the wooden walls but at least it seems sturdy and warm enough. Dry, too, which is good with the way the rain is coming down now.

Daisy takes one look at anyone else in the main dining room and knows in an instant that they have no more answers than she does. Great. There are no words offered to a single one of them as she turns and heads to the kitchen, shivering the whole way. It's not difficult to locate a large stack of hand towels — half the stack is left on the counter for someone else to use while she claims the other half for her own use. Peeling off her soaking wet black t-shirt, she wrings it out into a sink and then drapes it over the edge, steadfastly ignoring the way her body shakes from the cold that has settled into her bones. Drying off doesn't do much to help with that, but it's a start, and her jeans follow suit, though she's not quite strong enough in her present state to properly wring them out.

Yes, she's standing in the middle of a dusty restaurant kitchen in her underwear, with boots set aside to hopefully get a little less squishy by the time the storm lets up. Does she care that there's a pack of strangers milling about the place who could walk in at any second? Nope. She's tired, sore, and cold, so if they have anything to say about it, they can damn well keep it to themselves. It's too bad the towels aren't quite big enough to wrap around her hair in a turban but she does the best with what she has.

It occurs to her that she should be out in the other room questioning people to see if she can connect the dots of what's happening here, but... Well, they're not going anywhere in this storm. They're trapped. She's trapped. Again. She tries to ignore the feeling of utter helplessness that threatens to consume her, attempts to push aside the pain in her body as it's further abused, pretends not to notice how faintly she feels each crash of thunder in the air, and doesn't pay one bit of attention to the exhaustion begging her to rest. If she gives into any of those things right now—

She can't. It's as simple as that.

So she focuses on the tasks at hand. Find something to wear (the restaurant has t-shirts with their logo), find something to eat (how is the food still fresh here?), and try not to fall over when her body is screaming at her to rest. She tries to avoid that last inevitability for as long as possible by making a very large pot of coffee in the restaurant's coffee maker. (Yes, she'll share.) ]

[ ooc: Will match format! Daisy is in this outfit; her permissions/info are here (note the identifying marks). Plotting comment if you'd like anything for late on day 1 or day 2/3. ]

» day 1 (can you lead me to the light?)

[hellblaze]

[ Yess brackets

Where else would John Constantine settle? The bar, of course. His infamous trenchcoat is hanging over the back of the chair as he's rummaging behind the counter. A few of those lovely bottles are broken - namely because he's realized that they were all empty. No alcohol. That meant it was onto his next major vice to help settle his nerves: cigarettes.

Obviously there'd be no cigarettes in a bloody restaurant. Still, John is hoping. He might have to just hope the ones he has on him will dry out in a few hours. This was off to a great start already. Waking up on some random beach, gripped by a fear that reminded him of the largest screw-up in his life, and now nothing to clam his nerves.

He sighs and stands up from behind the counter. Hands run through his hair to shake more of the seawater out from it. ]

Brilliant, this is. Bloody fantastic. [ John lets out a long aggravated sigh before looking up and seeing that he's not alone in the room.

When did someone else get here? ]

Phil Coulson } Day One } OTA

[40seconds]

i. the beach

[ The passage of time is a difficult thing to trace when asleep, and it's really a strange feeling to be asleep without really remembering drifting off in the first place. Coulson's sleeping mind is turning over this conundrum even while he slumbers, but little does he know that he's about to have a rude awakening.

It would have been a slower awakening, because the cold and wet is starting to seep through his clothes, but without warning, there's an almighty crash of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, and Coulson's eyes snap open.

It takes a second for his mind to catch up with his eyes, to interpret the information filtering in, and eventually, he realizes he's not on the Bus anymore. A variety of emotions flicker up out of nowhere and are replaced quickly by an unexplained, deep-seated fear. He's not really scared of anything, unless the safety of his team is at stake, but right now, he's actually, truly afraid.

Of what, he's not even sure, but there's no arguing with that tight band across his chest. It's such an all-encompassing fear that he feels himself rooted to this spot, but even while he's standing there, a voice is telling him one thing:

Run. ]

ii. run

[ A star athlete, Coulson is not. But as a SHIELD agent, he's had training, and he's physically fit, even if he's no spring chicken anymore. When the urge to run comes, he listens to it, and if there's anyone nearby, they'll be able to see Coulson sprinting up the beach and heading for the town.

His clothes are soaked, and of course, he's freezing because the falling rain is colder than ice, but he's not stopping. But where should he go? There's the Grey Gull on one side, and what looks like rows of houses on the other. Stopping might not be synonymous with death, but neither is it a smart decision.

Deciding the best option here is to flip a nonexistent coin, he pauses for the briefest of seconds, and then points in a random direction. It's not much of a choice, just left or right, but wherever his finger ends up pointing, that's where he's going.

He just hopes to find shelter and safety (if that's even possible), not more danger, but of course, that remains to be seen. ]

[ Coulson's plotting comment is here if there's something else you'd rather hash out instead! ]

Day Two | both prompts OTA

[40seconds]

i. exploration

[ So, as far as Coulson can tell, the storm is still raging on outside, but from what little he can see from the window of the building he's holed up in, one thing is apparent: the lightning isn't touching any of the buildings. Sure, that probably isn't important enough on its own, but the thing is, Coulson's getting a little stir-crazy. He doesn't know where he is, or why he's here, and while he figures answers aren't going to be so easily gained, he's not going to learn anything sheltering indoors.

Yes, it's risky to take chances, but if he plays this right, he might actually learn something. He waits for a break in the lightning strikes, and as soon as it comes, he opens the door and steps outside.

He can be found in the building just across from 1304 8-9256 Lyrie, rifling through piles of debris, opening up anything that can be opened (cabinets, mostly), and looking for anything that might be of use. ]

ii. striking out

[ After awhile of searching and coming up empty handed (well, with the exception of a dull utensil that might have been a steak knife in a former life), that's when Coulson finally abandons his search and heads back outside. He's still within what appears to be the boundaries of the town, but something in the distance catches his eye. It looks like more buildings, but it's hard to tell for sure, and since he's come up empty thus far, he decides to take another chance and strike out for those further away buildings.

As he's making his way along, it's so gradual that he doesn't even notice at first, but exhaustion is starting to seep into his bones, weighing down his steps, but he's determined to find out what lies off in the distance that he keeps going.

That is, until an unexpected wave of nausea sweeps over him and he all but drops to his knees, landing on the muddy ground with a squish. While he tries to recover himself, he mumbles: ]

Well, at least I'm far enough out here that no one's going to see this.

[ In theory, anyway, because who else would be crazy enough to venture out this far alone? ]

[ ooc: for prompt 2, let's say it's open to two tag-ins, otherwise poor Coulson won't get a break from his ill thought out plan, or lack thereof. ]

rey - open/closed

[reydacted]

day 1 (closed to kylo)

[reydacted]

[ Rey groans, skin scraping against the jagged edges of the small rocks covering the beach. Claps of thunder fill her ears and the wind whips against her skin with a wicked chill. She moves her arm, groggily, shielding herself from the drops of rain that start to pelt her cheeks, so icy they almost burn the path as they roll across her face.

Despite having apparently been unconscious, her heart feels like its racing, blood pooling in her legs with the intent to run building.

And she feels him. Not some tenuous connection across the galaxy nipping at the edges of her mind. No, he's close and in the flesh, laying on the beach the same as her. She scrambles to her feet, patting at her hip only to find her hilt missing. She stumbles over to Kylo, falling back again to her knees to root around at his belt, his cloak, anywhere he might be hiding either of their sabers. ]

kylo ren - open/closed starters

[warfares]

⤠ plot comment (x)
⤠ feel free to hit me up at resurrectionist or via pm for more specific plotting.

⟴ beach (x)
⟴ grey gull (x)
⟴ ever's home (x)

⟴ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏɴᴇ - ᴏᴘᴇɴ

[warfares]

⤠ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ

( fear rolls over him like one of those waves crashing against the shore. it's the fear that wakes him, that pushes him upright despite the lurch to his stomach and the merciless pounding in his head.

soaked to the bone, fingers sweep across his forehead, down to his jaw and then slide to the base of his skull. checking for injuries, for blood, and finding nothing. nothing obvious. then, his gaze sweeps his surroundings, taking in the long stretch of the shoreline and the gathering thunderheads. he has a second, maybe more, to process that this is not the steadast before the first clap of thunder breaks through his reverie.

storm's coming. better get moving. )

⤠ ɢʀᴇʏ ɢᴜʟʟ

( the wind is howling like a feral thing by the time he makes it into town, stumbling into the nearest building in search of shelter.

the building — the grey gull — has seen better days. peeling paint and exposed walls crusted over with salt crystals and black mold. it's not perfect, but it'll do.

he starts with the front of the house, taking in the mismatched furniture and faded chalkboards. the letters swim before his eyes before resolving into something vaguely legible. it's rare to encounter high galactic in the wild, much less on a backwater planet like this one, and he allows himself a moment of surprised pleasure at the discovery.

then it's onto the bar, the kitchen, and anywhere else that might be of interest. )

Day 3 (Open/Closed)

[waywardsister]

[ ooc: See options below.

For further plotting, please feel free to hit me up on inkcharm, or OOC Plotting ]

[Closed to Coulson] Day 3: THE NIGHT DARKENS

[waywardsister]

[ It's dark by the time Claire reaches the Grey Gull, heavy boots almost muffled on the pavement. Mathis is... too silent, now that the storm has passed, and while she welcomes not feeling soaked to the bone - her clothes are mostly dry but still feel like wetness tries to cling to them stubbornly, that strange, clammy feeling of clothing that is no longer damp, but isn't ready to be considered dry yet, either.

She's looking for Five, honestly, because she's restless, itching to get further to the bottom of this, and she'd like to touch base with him before she goes out. They've already established that she's prepared to charge face first into stupid ideas, so he can be a grumpy old curmudgeon about it. It's gonna be great.

Instead of Five, though, she finds another old man type at the Grey Gull, and grins as if nothing's wrong in the world. ]

Hey Suit. Enjoying the local hot spot?

[ She'll find a better nickname for him yet, don't worry. ]