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

[fika]

[ The thing Claire will likely discover quite quickly is that Five has little proclivity towards sleep.

Especially in this place and especially now. He's bone tired, which is likely to force him to rest at one point or the next but until his body forces himself into a fitful nap, he's hunched over a table with the beginnings of notes scrawled out into a notebook he managed to find.

It wasn't difficult anyway, finding the supplies. Several pen colours, for convenient colour-coding. The benefits of being stranded in a well-stocked town, he supposed.

The phone cuts through the silence and it does make him jolt, rattling the table lamp as he hits the bottom of the desk with his knee. A fact no one is witness to, much to his relief, as he yanks the phone from the receiver with a sharp cuss.

The...chattering sure is distinct, if quiet. ] Hello?

[waywardsister]

[ Fuck.

She almost wants to cry with joy, and doesn't quite know why. It's weird - Coulson was with her, and yet hearing the voice of someone who's been safe and didn't almost fall victim to the cold alongside her... it's a relief, as if only now her brain catches up to the memory that there is life outside the cold.

If her body could remember that as well, that'd be grand honestly. ]

Exchange... notes.

[ It's Claire's voice alright, stammering on the syllables badly, shivering so hard she almost drops the receiver. ]

Don't... go out. The other streets... cold. So... so cold...

[ She has difficult getting the words through chattering teeth, but the message is important, and he's the first person outside of her ill-fated companion she thinks to warn. ]

[fika]

Claire...?

[ He's surprised, honestly. It isn't quite relief but it's too close to not be, a quiet quick exhale and unschooled intonation in the otherwise passive tone.

It's the house, quiet save for the wind causing it to creak, to the point where he needs to set the ticking clock closer to him. Because it reminds him of solitude otherwise, synapses firing into the same state of survival that, despite the several years away and out, he still hasn't managed to completely shake.

You usually can't. Not so easily. Things like that tend to sink deep. So yes, maybe he's relieved to know that there's still proof of someone else, on the other end of the phone. ]

Huh, noted. And you're indoors now? [ He asks this as he pushes away from the desk he's haunched over, and presses a hand to one of the windows - the glass is sharply cold, and he hears the tremor of her voice.

is he going to have to go and get her jesus christ kids these days. ]

[waywardsister]

[ There's a soft sound that could be a chuckle or a stifled sob. Not even Claire is sure at this point. There's a hollow ache in her chest where amusement should be.

She remembers saying yes to Castiel, to lending her body to angelic possession for a few minutes to save her family. Fun fact: Being chained to a comet burns cold, not hot.

And she knows, too well, how cold corpses feel, and wonders, for a dizzying moment, if she's even still alive.

Takes a moment before she remembers to answer. ]

Landline...

[ A slight tapping sound - she taps the receiver with a fingernail lightly. ]

Yeah. 'm inside.

[fika]

[ She'll hear his sigh, slightly exasperated, on the other end.

Jesus. She sounded half-dead, and he was pretty sure that was being generous. But here she was, calling him with the warning. ]

Alright wiseass, [ listen, he had to make sure the extent of her bad ideas didn't capture her entire sense of self preservation. because after the tendencies of his family, you learn to keep your expectations pretty low. ] What else did you learn?

[ she did say exchange notes. he was more than willing to share his, too. ]

Sorry for the delay, needed some mod feedback :)

[waywardsister]

[ Claire tries to pull herself together. ]

Cold gets... worse. The farther you go. Barely a hand full of blocks.

[ The chattering gets worse for a moment before Claire gets it under control, flexing fingers that prickle painfully as feeling returns to them slowly. ]

Weird about the houses... some were like these. Dusty but... you know. Nice. But some were derelict. Like rotten floors, missing walls...

[ There's something in her voice then, as she presses her lips together to deliberate if she should tell him. ]

I thought... Felt like we were being watched. Like someone was there.

pardon the delay back!

[fika]

[ to his credit, he demonstrates a somewhat uncharacteristic show of patience, steady and quiet as he waits for her to gather herself.

no point in rushing it. ] Stick your hands under barely lukewarm water. Raise the temperature up as you get used to it. It'll help.

[ he hadn't had the luxury of working infrastructure in the ruins of his world when he was trapped in it, but some things he still knew all too well.

the last part of her account piques his interest wholeheartedly, and she'll hear that switch in his voice, a shift as he stands straighter, stops his pacing and goes tense. ] Huh - they were in ruins? How far away from this street?

[ he falls silent, though if someone could think loudly, it was him in that moment. what the hell did this mean? one or two abandoned houses wouldn't be anything to stop and consider, but that state of disrepair doesn't happen over the course of months. ]

...watched. Did you feel that way when you made your way back?

[waywardsister]

[ He'll hear it, the rustling of clothes as Claire moves to follow the instructions. She rallies against it, usually - following anyone's advice, really. But she's just broken down enough to do this.

And then he'll also hear the clatter as Claire accidentally pulls the entire goddamn phone off its side table.

For a while there is some more clattering, with very audible cussing along the lines of 'stupid ass shit tier old dumbass phone', the sounds of the side table being dragged, some grunts of effort as Claire just stubbornly refuses to leave the receiver behind on her way to running water - which Five will also hear a moment later. ]

No. Just at the h-houses. Thought ghosts, but... salt didn't help.

[fika]

[ he'll have to hold the receiver away from his ear while it clatters, and takes the few moments of shuffling and scraping to jot some more notes down.

he huffs some air from the cacophony of sounds on the other end, the swears and the rearranging of furniture.

another note is jotted down as there is the distinct hiss of a tap running hits him soon enough.

the thing is, he isn't unfamiliar with the idea of ghosts, though he would never make that direct leap to it himself - it was klaus' area of expertise, however buried beneath the guise of addiction, to hide the specters away. ] And salting them usually does?

This feels like - like we're all seeing a small picture of a big puzzle. I think we're a way out from finding the right ones to fit it all together.

[ a longer beat, hitting his pen against the notepad, running water a low rush, filtering from the other end. ] That helping?

[waywardsister]

Yeah... yeah...

[ There's genuine relief in her voice, even when feeling comes back with painful prickling under her skin. It's better than feeling nothing. Better than feeling dead. ]

They can't cross salt lines. Contact disperses them. Rocksalt in a sawed-off works. Iron, otherwise. Salt and burn the bones or what else binds them if you wanna gank them.

[ She rattles it off like something that's easy to pull form her brain, like something she deals with often enough to know by heart. ]

[fika]

[ ... this conversation honestly has more supernatural implication than he, partially, was really ready for. or had ever really thought about.

no ghosts for him, after all. just bodies, because spirits may be one thing, but the dead had never been anything but silent.

so...ghosts. salt. iron. okay. he sighs. ]

Thanks for the warning, Claire.

[waywardsister]

[ There's silence on the other hand for a moment. Claire wrestles with herself. Tired, knows she should push for more information.

Won't.

Not all things need to be direct trades. ]

Thanks for picking up.

[ There's something small and genuine there, in her voice. She's not sure what she would have done, too cold to think, otherwise.

For now, she hangs up. ]