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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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.

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.

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.

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?

[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

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!

[villagemod]

Not a dumb question! Yes, the numbers correspond to the houses. I should have made that clearer in the actual post, whoops.

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?

[enduresurvive]

Ellie will take 1304 8-9256 Lyrie and I'll add deets later.

Here's some basic floor plan stuff! Please ignore that these floors don't dimensionally match, I have absolutely no ability to visualise 3D space at all lmao so I just designed these very basic.

First floor:


Second floor:

[warfares]

1305 8-9132 Evers

here's the basic floor plan:

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.

day three

[enduresurvive]

A; for Doc Holliday

On the third day, in the calm after the storm, she makes it to the Grey Gull. She almost wishes she hadn't bothered, because there doesn't seem to be a lot going on here, either. But...she can't give up. She has to find something here, right?

But this place is still getting to her. In the end, she just slides into a chair and sits there with her head resting on her folded arms for a moment, forced to give up on her paranoid levels of vigilance for now as she tries to keep it together. She can't avenge Joel like this. She can't protect Dina, back in Seattle, pregnant and sick. Yeah, Jesse's there, but...but what about Tommy? He's alive, she thinks, but will he stay that way?

She hears a noise, though, of someone moving around and her head snaps up, alertness cutting through her swirling thoughts.

"Who's there?" she demands.

[fika]

Five settling in this one for the time being: 1302 8-5491 Thomasen

basic floor plan:

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.

☂ Day 3 ☂ OTA

[fika]

DAY 3

I: time, time time, see what's become of me

The storm stops so suddenly it almost gives Five whiplash.

The silence, he finds, bothers him so much more as he opens the door to the house he found himself in just before the storm's end. It sets him worse on edge, even as he catches a scant few others venturing out. If he catches the eye of someone closer to him, he will find himself shouting: "Have you seen anyone local here?"

It feels too close to the apocalypse, and there's still the thought that somehow, he and the rest of the Hargreeves were the cause; even if there were others around him now, instead of forty-five year isolation before, it wasn't much of a consolation.

1301 8-0415 sanderson

[webshoots]

peter will nose around, but ultimately hole up in 1301 8-0415 ( Sanderson ) for a little while.



peter will have taken the master bedroom, which leaves two unclaimed bedrooms if anyone wants to end up squatting in the same house 👌🏻

1308 8-3201 Mulcalley

[hellblaze]

John will park for now in 1308 8-3201 Mulcalley please! I read the post like 4 times and still missed where it said the subject header

FLOOR PLAN/HOUSE:

1307 8-9025 Hirano

[tinstar]

1307 8-9025 Hirano
Raylan will have taken the master but can be talked into giving it up if someone feels strongly enough about it, but there's space for 2 more.

Floor plans:


Front:

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.

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

[hellblaze]

i. now a couple hours past and i was sitting in my house.

The master bedroom had been a lovely place to stay. Even more if there had been some nice company. Not that he could be particularly ungrateful he'd found a house to stay in. One that he was more than willing to properly dig around in now.

So far he'd yet to see someone that looked like they belonged to town. Lightning avoided the houses. Electricity still worked. Food was stocked like someone had just gone grocery shopping. Thing was? The dust all over the place matched about what he saw at the Gull. Someone hadn't been here in a while -- which made him wonder what sort of magical bullshit was going on to make everything else work.

John leans against the counter in the kitchen as he starts frying up an egg for that morning. The cigarettes are dried out finally, but, the taste is utter shit. He won't complain for now. It's been two days since he had a smoke and it was better than none.

Anyone interested in breakfast?

ii. if you can pay the right price, your evening will be nice.

Once the storm for the night has stopped? He goes outside to the porch and lights up another cigarette. The light sticks out in the darkness as he looks over the wet landscape. No anything. No bugs, toads, animals. He raises an eyebrow and walks the length of the porch with his hands in his pockets.

Probably be better to go further into town once it was daylight. Just until he had some better of an inkling of what was hiding out there. Oh, there was definitely something out there. Terror didn't flood him without there being something. The question - what kind of something?

He's almost lost in his thoughts as he's out on the porch, smoking his cigarette. It'd be easy to find him and sneak up.

b; lmk if this isn't okay/if he needs to go out the way he came

[40seconds]

To Coulson, it seems as though time is moving by in impressively fast increments, leaving him feeling as though he's trying but failing to keep up. One minute, he was waking up on the beach, and the next, he's stumbling to his feet and trying to outrun the oncoming storm. It goes about as well as can be expected, and it doesn't take long at all for Coulson's clothes to be drenched. That part doesn't bother him so much, especially since his priority is getting inside and away from the storm and the all-too-ominous lightning. A little wet clothes never hurt anyone, anyway.

Fortunately for him, a building all but looms up in front of him, and without a second's thought, he makes his approach. Who knows who might be inside, if anyone, but only a fool would stay outside in weather like this. The window appears to be tightly closed, but the door looks like it could be jimmied open if necessary.

Still, he's just going to try his luck with knocking firmly first, and if that fails, then he'll attempt other measures, such as trying to pry open the door. Hopefully if someone is inside, they'll hear his knocks and let him in. Of course, he won't blame them if they don't, because from their perspective, he's little better than a stranger.