The Village Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
villagemod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
villagelogs2020-10-03 08:52 pm
villagemod) wrote in villagelogs2020-10-03 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- ellie (the last of us),
- raylan givens (justified),
- ~ claire novak (supernatural),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ jill valentine (resident evil),
- ~ john constantine (dc live action),
- ~ kylo ren (star wars),
- ~ max guevara (dark angel),
- ~ number five (the umbrella academy),
- ~ phil coulson (marvel live action),
- ~ rey (star wars)
001-003 » a chilling mathias welcome
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"
navigation | faq | setting | mod contact
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 8-5491Thomasen
1304 8-9256Lyrie
1306 8-4712Anders
1308 8-3201Mulcalley
1301 8-0415Sanderson
1303 8-6762Reese
1305 8-9132Evers
1307 8-9025Hirano
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.
Day 1: II
"The... hell."
Catching herself, she shoves wet hair out of a heavily bruised face, and glances around, tension immediate in her shoulders when she spots the... kid?
Well... she's not one to judge, she doesn't think she'd have been much older when she started falling in with Randy and his crew to pick locks and pockets. After a first quick glance at him, she moves further into the room, teeth chattering - the leather jacket would be a momentary reprieve from the icy rain, but the black hoodie underneath is soaked, and so are her jeans. No sense yet in getting dry yet, though. Restaurant's an obvious place to hole up. Means more people, and Claire isn't sure she's that interested in cosying up quite yet.
"That's one word for it," she offers back, moving to one of the tables. The chair scrapes against the floorboards loudly as she pulls it out. Rather than sit in it, though, Clair tips it onto its side. "Kitchen have any knives?" He's got the coffee - so he's probably been in there.
What's a kid calmly drinking coffee for in this place, anyway? Questions for later. If he's observant, he might notice that Claire doesn't turn her back to him or the door, and that she seems to intend to break off a chair leg.
Shelter, weapons. Hunter priorities.
no subject
He's been trained long enough in his old age to recognize the tells of someone more used to having to fight than not - she notes the exits (open door, windows), notes the threat (him, which...more fair than she likely knows). He watches her break the chair leg with mild curiosity. Not a bad idea, either.
"Only for the really persistent," he says, waving the slender butter knife, pinched between his thumb and index finger. He doesn't bother expanding on any of that further. He's tired, exhausted to the bone, and all he wants to do is not be here. But he needs the energy, so he takes another long sip.
no subject
"Morbid," is her conclusion. "Funny, though."
There's a thing in one of those old movies Dean made her watch. Something about carving a heart out with a spoon and that being the point. Kid's got a dark sense of humour, that's for sure.
With the chair leg freed, she gives it a test swing or two to get used to the weight and feel. It's not great, honestly, but it'll do, for now. If someone or something barrels through a good swing with this without flinching, then it's probably time to book it, at any rate.
"You seem pretty calm about all this."
no subject
"Well, we got slim alternatives here," he raises his arm, mug in hand, to give a pointed sweep of the room. "Butter knife, or a poor man's baseball bat."
He gives her a curious look at her final comment, though. Was he? Calm, that is. Being out of the storm soothed the visceral fear the wind and the rain and the lightning brought with it. He's been afraid plenty of times before, admittedly or not - though not like that. No, that felt brought on, and he lived long enough to know the difference between fear and panic and this was still...something else entirely.
"Do I?" He asks mildly. "Just taking a break. From the tantrum I'm supposed to be throwing, I guess."
A pause, giving the broken chair leg an unconvinced look. "What're you anticipating fighting, anyway?"
no subject
Maybe not the best thing to say to a kid. Claire doesn't exactly claime to be the most sensitive person in the world, but even she knows to at least try and not make trauma worse. So she glances to the kitchen, then takes a few steps towards the kid.
She doesn't let her guard down, not exactly. Well aware that this kid could very well be... any number of things, honestly, and none of them good. And that's before taking into account that leaving the Bad Place and ending here, she might not be in Kansas anymore. Or rather, her own world.
"Don't know yet," she admits, then. "Listen, kid. This place feels like bad news, right? In my experience, that usually... has a source. And that source is usually something you can take out. That's what I do. So yeah... poor man's baseball bat, just in case."
She hesitates, and the way her eyes track over them is... calculated. Trying to figure him out.
"Do you need help getting anywhere?"
no subject
That's what he gets for messing up the calculations.
There's advantage in underestimation, to be sure. He might not be a demon or changeling or whatever else Claire had known, but he was a monster of his own sort. But advantage or no, it didn't stop it from being absolutely annoying in moments like this, after the forty-five years of dues paid. Anyone more positive would see this concern as touching. It is unfortunate that Five's cynicism is such an immovable force.
So when she takes a few steps closer, his dimple smile is markedly sarcastic and grip a little tighter on the handle of his cup. His eye may or may not twitch, just once. "Oh, the kid's all set, thanks."
"Before you go out there trying to fist fight a storm - what year was it? Before you got here?" Listen, did he think her half-baked plan was going to lead to disaster? Absolutely. It sounded like something Diego or Luther would come up with and think it brilliant.
Not that he didn't want to fight whatever brought him here. He just thought it was more complicated than what she was suggesting.
no subject
She's got her hand on the door, and then he just... has to say that.
Claire pauses. Taps her fingers on the handle. Her jaw clenches for a moment, then she steps back from the door and faces the kid again. Only...
Yeah. There's something off about him, sure. And to some extent, that can be chalked up to the friggin' trauma of the overall situation, but... This is the sort of off she's seen before, and not in the good way.
"2017."
She doesn't raise her poor man's baseball bat, but she does keep a slightly harder gaze set on him.
"You're not a kid, are you."
i am so sorry for him tbh,,,
But at the same time, given the circumstances, not completely unreasonable. Still, someone who's ready to go out there into a raging storm in the hopes of finding something to punch really hard typically had enough experience doing that and seeing a modicum of results. Or maybe they were taught that that's the thing to do.
He gives her another smile, jaw tight and he doesn't bother to school the condescension from his expression regardless.
"Oh, physically I am," he answers, and truly loathes that that's the honest truth. "My mind is 58. Pesky side-effects of jumping through time in a quantum state with the decimal point being off."
"What, were you expecting an alien, or something?"
Never be sorry, he is glorious
Not that Claire has reason to disbelieve it. Sure, why not time travel. She's recently been to and from another dimension and is now... well. Where, when and why she's not sure, she just knows it's not home. Still, the tone suggests a resignation of the 'I'll roll with it, but I didn't need it' persuasion.
Why can't anything just be your normal, run of the mill shifter or demon or... okay, well, maybe she has no room to judge on the weirdness scale.
"Or something," she concedes, then makes a vague gesture with her hand that implies something all encompassing. She doesn't have silver, iron or holy water on hand, and to assume the knife is actual silver is probably too optimistic for the state of this place. "I'd have expected you to be something wearing that kid's body like a suit."
And she lets that sit for a moment, then coughs. If the word 'Christo' drops barely concealed by that cough, well. She's not exactly trying to conceal that here. And while Claire didn't expect it to lead to eyes flashing back, well... never hurts to be thorough, right? She did promise not to hunt like a dumbass anymore.
"Okay. What's your name then, old man?"
ahaha
She coughs, and...did she just? "Gesundheit," he can't help but look a little bit amused. It's like she was expecting him to burst into flame, or something.
"Name's Five," at this point it's an old glove, and while people sometimes tend to have questions, he doesn't care to elaborate further than that. "You?" Come to think of it, he isn't terribly used to introductions.
"And for the record, I don't think I need to tell you that going out there right now is a stupid idea." Listen, again, he isn't going to try and stop you but. Just putting it out there.
He says this, as if he wasn't getting ready to go out there himself. As they say, do as I say, not as I do...
no subject
"Claire."
Introductions don't have to be complicated. To be honest, Claire's good with long distance nods of acknowledgement and getting down to the important business. Names exchanged, and information learned - what more could she possibly ask for.
Still a bit funny - he looks like he could be her younger brother when in reality he could be her grandfather. No wonder the guy's cranky, honestly.
"Well, Benjamin Button, I think you're smart enough to assume that I've had much worse ideas."
Hey, she's allowed to call her own shit, okay? Doesn't mean she won't vehemently deny it when others do.
"There's houses up there, though. We're not gonna be the only ones who stumble in here, and I'm not sure I wanna handle a crowd, or wrestle someone for less public shelter."
no subject
"Jesus," is the soft mutter under his breath as he blinks slow at hearing the nickname. He really truly did trade one impulsive brother for an equally impulsive stranger.
"Well, at least you're impressively self aware," he remarks amicably, as much as Five is capable of, anyway, before looking out to the same point she was talking about.
"Fair enough. I wasn't going to sit around here much longer anyway," disregarding the fact that he said it was kind of stupid to go out there. Yet again, he can teleport himself for most of the distances. She, he guessed, could not.
"How about this, Indiana Jones. You find anything interesting and worthwhile of a punch, you let me know," he gestures with mug at hand.
"House with the blue siding, straight out of a 90's Coastal Living catalogue. I'll try and be there. Exchange notes later."
To be clear, this wasn't a proclamation of trust. But there was something to be said about an ability to read people. He may not know her, but he knew the type. Impulsivity wasn't a terrible thing to have in a place like this, either.
I think this wraps it up nicely <3
Could the day get any weirder, at this point?
"Gotcha."
Claire hasn't made any picks yet, but well. She'll be able to pin down his location and get in touch. For now... Claire takes a deep breath, gazing out the windows and up the street to the houses. This is gonna be uncomfortable, but... well, she's had worse.
She nods over her shoulder at Five.
"Indiana Jones isn't half as cool as old men like you think, by the way. You can find a better nickname than that, I'm sure." She smiles. "Talk to you later, Benjamin Button."
And with that, she pushes through the door and braves the storm, unwilling and unable to slow down, to stand still, lest her thoughts catch up to her actions and put her on her knees, sobbing.