037-040 » the reason for time

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias
WHEN: Day 037-040
WHAT: The dead return and the living wake to changes within Mathias Township.
WARNINGS: Some explicit sexual content in threads. (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Kammarheit "Sleep after Toyle, Port after Stormie Seas"

DAY 037
THE DEAD RETURN
“The only reason for time is so that everything
doesn't happen at once.” —Albert Einstein
The dead return to Mathias forever changed by their experiences. Waking along the beach, near the tree line, or among the graves, they will find that their bodies are not as they remember them. They are whole again and not torn to shreds by the shadow creatures that cannot be described, but they are also not as they were before the Hunt. These residents will find, so strangely, that their bodies are in the physical state in which they first arrived in Mathias — any injuries or recovery they have made since their initial arrival no longer exists, as if their time in Mathias has simply been a horrible nightmare. Except they all now carry a last reminder of the Hunt with them: spiderweb-thin healed scars marking their injuries from the Hunt. Those who were injured by fire in the other realm also carry those burns with them.

The dead are not the only things that have returned to Mathias. Inexplicably, fall is back, with the temperature finally reaching above freezing and snow falling from trees to reveal beautiful autumnal colors. As the sun rises higher in the lightly cloudy sky and the day warms, the snow begins rapidly melting, puddles growing in the slowly revealed grass and little rivers forming in the streets. And with that snow comes the frozen blood from the deaths to the Hunt, tinting the street river on Phillips Drive a sickening shade of red.

Another oddity that residents will notice: houses with broken windows from the encounter with the fog on Day 015 have now been completely repaired, though any boards put in place are still there somehow. A small bit of good news, at least? And truly, how kind of Mathias to clean up its own mess.

Finally, alcohol is back. Enjoy in moderation, friends, for more will not be arriving the following morning.


THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's quite chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. Indeed, their timing is perfect, for alcohol has finally returned to Mathias Township — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.


DAY 038-039
THE CHANGE OF SEASON
The continued warm weather proves that the unseasonable shift of the previous day was not merely a fluke. Once again, the sun rises and brings with it a temperature that feels almost spring-like, save for the fact that each day there seem to be more and more leaves on the trees in hues of red and orange. For those who have been in Mathias for some time, this new type of weird may be almost normal at this point, but newer arrivals will likely find it quite odd.

The gently trickling river running along Phillips Drive is still somewhat pink in color as the snow continues to melt and refreeze each night. By Day 040, the bloody snow will finally be gone completely, though the relief will be... short-lived.

DAY 040
THE BLINDING WHITE
In the late morning of Day 040, when the sun is visible through patchy greyish clouds, the fog sweeps into town like a like a tidal wave. It moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. Rather than a soft blanket enveloping the town, it is a heavy weight pressing down, blotting out the sky in a way that almost feels suffocating, for none can see further than their outstretch hand.

Those outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, stumbling toward shelter as you're unable to even see your feet beneath you, let alone any obstacles in your path. Perhaps you call out for help, hoping for another voice to guide you toward shelter or simply another living soul. Or perhaps you were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in.

Unlike the last time the fog swept into the town, residents who encounter it are not immediately killed. Instead, they are simply disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

By nightfall, the fog still has not dissipated.

---

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER conditions are fairly typical for late fall: chilly "sweater weather" days and nights that can dip just below freezing. You don't want to be outside without a coat, but it won't kill anyone if they bundle up. Probably.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the western section of town, beginning just past Hill Lane, before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be between Hill and Stine Road. Venturing into the fog blocking these areas is ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue. Castiel and Sam Winchester have vanished, and Dean Winchester has not returned with the others after his death during the Hunt.

— THE GRAVEYARD has now seen around a dozen burials, both below and above ground. With the weather warming, though, something may need to be done about the handful of temporary graves aboveground...

— ALCOHOL has returned to Mathias! A small stock of beer and cheap wine may be found at the General Store, and some homes may have a small store of alcohol in the fridge or pantry. The Grey Gull has also been restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. Alcohol does not replenish in the same way as food.

— THE GREY GULL has been cleaned up and stocked with moonshine. Along with the newly restocked usual offerings, the place almost seems like an actual bar again.

— THE GENERAL STORE is in a bit of a state following the brutal slaughter of two residents during the Hunt. Cleanup on aisle 3, anyone?

---

OOC NOTES

— FOOD is now being mysteriously restocked as per usual, including inside homes and at the General Store. Alcohol is not being restocked. Use those rationing skills, friends.

— REWARD REDEPEMPTION is back and will soon have a new option for anyone looking to spend big AP and learn a bit more of the lore of the town.

— MADNESSES due to the Hunt have been earned by Klaus Hargreeves, Ellie, and Malcolm Bright and may now be claimed. Players may also claim additional sanity loss from the aftermath of the Hunt; only losses from the Hunt itself have been deducted from totals thus far.

— SANITY REGAIN is now available! Players will submit a form with some details of the progress their character has made and the mod will review and decide on the numbers of points that will be regained.

— MOD STATUS The usual reminder that it's mostly just Amy steering this ship for now, so things will probably be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pinging me if you're stuck waiting for something.

navigation | faq | locations | report updates

Comments

[this_ismydesign]

"Understandable," Will said with a small nod of his head. He could definitely empathize with that need, a basic grab at some sort of 'normalcy' to try to anchor one's self in the middle of a psychological maelstrom. It reminded him of sitting on Jack's office. Silent except where both of them read over reports that neither were actually looking at, while Jack tried to come to terms with his wife's illness.

Straightening, Will brushed his hands over his t-shirt, making it dusty but unconcerned about the mess. He picked up the bag he'd filled from what he could find at the General Store and walked to a spot more in the center of the greenhouse. Raylan's kept distance wasn't lost of him and while Will did not understand the cause, he would respect it.

If it also meant he kept a bit of distance from the overlay of the man's shredded face and body ... well that was probably best for both of them.

"I gathered what I could find that looked useful," he remarked, walking back to his side of the greenhouse. "I don't know if it will be enough. We may have to cannibalize from one end to secure the other, but if the store restocks, we might get lucky."

It was in his soft tones, the unspoken solicitation of Raylan's review and input on the situation.

[technologique]

[ tony's been pulling books down from shelves and flipping through them for what feels like far too long. well, far too long to have found so little of interest, at least. he might look a little more into a few of the history books he's found but really, that's probably about it at this point.

he slips the latest uninteresting book back onto the shelf he'd grabbed it from, when the sound of approaching footsteps fills the silence, catching his attention. he wipes the dust and grime from his hands onto his pants as he turns toward the source of the sound.

a large, imposing man. just the kind of person he wants watching him. especially now, especially with... everything ]

Do I look like a librarian or something? I'm not going to help you find whatever you're looking for. You're on your own for that.

[tinstar]

Raylan shook his head, fingers coming up to Malcolm's face again. "Doesn't matter. Soaked it in us, we soaked it." It wasn't about who did the killing, who deserved blame. Whoever was, the world had been soaked in it.

"I found it. The lodge," he relieved quietly, not content to end it with apologies and attempts to move through it. There was too much. He had to linger. Malcolm, stuck here with him, was forced to suffer the linger with him. For all it had inflicted, it hadn't come without some small prize.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm would suffer a bathtub of piranha with him if that was what he needed, but the information? He was interested in that. His face lit a little as his eyes scanned Raylan's face.

"You did? Where?"

[tinstar]

"Across the chasm. Not where we can get to it here but.. The fog wasn't there. In the In-between. I followed it north for about a half hour and there it was. I'm sure it's the mansion that I was stuck in. I know it was." He knew in his gut but he trusted his gut.

"I couldn't get across but.. It still exists. It's there. If the fog is still here, we know some of what's behind it."

[abrightboy]

"It seems like they must be hiding it for a reason, but they let a bunch of you inside it," Malcolm said, his fingers fidgeting absently at Raylan's shoulder as the wheels of his mind turned. "If the fog lifts..." He looked at Raylan's face again. "We're going to need a bigger bridge." His expression faltered a little. "It might tell us something more definitive. Instead of just. Wild guesses."

Day 38

[exsto]

Graveyard

---

Eight days had gone by in something of a haze and since his arrival he's learned from a few people that time was a little weird, slower somehow. Only to him, it felt anything but and he can't help think that maybe everyone experiences it a little differently. As was the case with most things. Mathias wasn't the same thing to all people, after all.

That morning, he heads out with the same shovel he used a couple of mornings prior, setting out to properly bury some people, despite the irony of them being alive again. It was definitely odd, to say the least. But there was something about not doing it and the repercussions that would inevitably follow that makes it hard to ignore until it's actually done.

Later - Boarding House

---

It's late and Bucky resigns himself to at least try and get some rest. He was exhausted and deep sleep wasn't going to happen, though if it were in the form of some reading or light sleep, then maybe he'd feel better.

Only when he closes his eyes, the same pain starts to move inwards from the same contact points on his skull that the memory suppressing machine was placed and before long, it's like he's being wiped all over again. And like every time it happens, Bucky lets out a holler, sits up ramrod straight and spends the next five minutes trying to regain control of the heavy breathing that seems to shake everything around him, too.

He manages to get through it but only just and to avoid the possibility of another episode, Bucky chooses to get up and go downstairs where he can sit in the far more open space of the dining room.

[tinstar]

"My bridge would have been fine if you and Henry woulda backed me up," he argued. "We coulda gotten over, but the moment passed and I wasn't allowed to do it myself." He was still a little pissed about that, to be quite honest.

"But a few more feet on it wouldn't have hurt," he granted. It was a concession, the only one he was willing to make.

His face pinched. "Wild guesses are half of the reason I'm as far as I am in this." He'd noticed the stumble before - "What happened, somethin' happened."

[abrightboy]

“But the Shadow Man...” he protested weakly.

He didn’t have the wherewithal to really argue against Raylan’s anger. Not anger he caused, anyway.

At the question, he sank back down against Raylan’s chest, fidgety hand sliding back to his collarbone.

“It wasn’t... it’s fine. Doc just. Pointed out how much all the... all the bullshit talking bothers everyone. I can see that. It doesn’t help. You don’t need me putting my coping mechanism on you along with everything else.”

[exsto]

[ not recognized. thankfully. he remembers daisy telling him she was from a different year than him and raylan was sure to clear up what year he was from along with a few others from even further into the future than he was after coming back from the Snap.

still, there was the matter of his arm.

bucky moves off to the right with barely a coherent apology, content to create that space between him and the guy whose parents he murdered. he heads over to some shelves that he's combed through in recent visits and found nothing more than biographies of people whose names most people know, but he doesn't.

he wasn't planning on striking up a conversation but there was a sick curiosity to know when exactly he arrived -- and from what year. ]

You're new.

[likeknives]

Hardison is talking and it's wonderful and it's painful and it's not registering at all. His mind is just going Hardison is here over and over again and desperately trying to figure out what to do with this.

And then his expression just crumples and this is all very, very real.

It tells him that Hardison is here, really here, and it tells him that Hardison most likely knew he was dead. Even if it was a reaction from him missing for days, that expression tells him that this is somehow even more than that. He knew. He had to know.

And it makes him so infuriated, so terrified, so upset. He can't do a thing about it and he wants to punch the town in the face.

But all he can do instead, when Hardison hugs him, is to hug him back, like he hasn't seen him in years.

Hardison's hands are shaking and it tells him everything he needs to know about what must have happened. And now he's here and Eliot hates that he's here because it's dangerous here, and he's so relieved that he's here because he needs him to be here.

He can't be here. He's so glad he's here.

Dammit, Hardison.

"You're here." It's muffled and Hardison is taller than him so it comes from the vicinity of his shoulder, but whatever.

[technologique]

[ if tony had the "stranger's" name, there might be some recognition there. it's a name that's well known enough but that's all it is. just a name. shows up in history books and on war memorials. but the man, himself, tony doesn't know. he doesn't know everything they've been through together (or rather, will go through together) and he doesn't know what kind of impact bucky's had on his life. he doesn't know just what kind of chain of events bucky started in the life of tony stark.

tony turns as bucky moves toward the shelves, keeping his eyes on the strange man ]

And you're observant.

[ for the moment, tony goes back to looking at the shelf of books he'd been looking through previously, feigning interest. it doesn't last terribly long before he abandons the charade entirely and moves to stand next to bucky ] I don't know what you might've heard about me, but I don't actually bite, you know. Not unless you ask nicely. And even then, I reserve the right to refuse.

[ tony's eyes drop to the metal arm as he raps his knuckle against it ] Maintenance on that thing much be a bitch in a place like this.

Liz Brundy | Brimstone

[silentretribution]

Plotting Post

Day 037 - Closed to Bucky

[silentretribution]

[There's no fresh clothes at the Grey Gull, but there is a fire. Liz huddled close to it in a desperate attempt to absorb the heat, not simply on her skin but in her blood as well. Waking on the coast, uncertain of where she was and how this was even possible, she had half crawled, half tottered to the nearest refuge on the coast. She was disoriented, frustrated and numb. The shackles were cutting into her skin, made no better by the cold outside.

She had died, that had been fairly clear. Yet somehow, she was dredged up from the water and deposited somewhere she didn't recognize or knew. The Grey Gull seemed like a familiar place, even if there were things inside that confused her (the lighting!) But with so many things stacked in her mind, there was little she could do but absorb the warmth that she desperately needed and find some way to get the damn shackles off.

The place was empty for at least an hour, but the sudden arrival of a larger, darker haired man had her up on her feet, drawing back against the wall nervously. She watched him carefully, wide eyes knowing and haunted.]

Day 037 - OTA

[silentretribution]

[The village was what she expected (even if not exactly like Bismuth). There was a bulletin board, storefronts and people milling about. It was just lacking the cat houses, the gallows and the gun fights. Quiet was good though, quiet meant that she could settle without having to look over her shoulder.

The more pressing business would be getting her hand shackles off. When Bucky had found her, he had managed to break the ones attached to her feet, but the hands needed more delicate work. Which meant wandering, looking for a smith or someone that might know how to get these off. She had managed to find a notepad and a pencil, but her writing would be limited until she could get these off.

She's not exactly friendly looking as she wanders, peering at the different shops in hopes of finding what she needs, but she'll still manage a small smile and a nod of the head for any who approach her.]

Day 038-039

[silentretribution]

[The village wasn't a terrible place to settle for now. Going home wasn't an option anymore and the fog apparently was dangerous enough to limit exploring. Given that supplies were here, people were here and quiet was here, she wasn't exactly squirming to get away. With a room at the boarding house, she was content to sit around in the lounge area with a cup of coffee or make some food for the others, something that would let her be of use.

The large problem was communication. Everyone she had met so far didn't know sign language and a notepad wasn't going to be enough. Catching sight of a library, Liz dug through the stacks, looking for something that could allow her to teach others. Most were titles she didn't recognize and moldy covers that were indiscernible, but there had to be something left behind. A common doctor in Bismuth had one, there had to be something in the library too.

Eventually, she would return home and spend her time by the fire, watching the flames and forcing herself to focus on the here and not what she left behind. She might be quiet, but anyone who approaches her will get a smile and gesture to join her.]

Day 040 - OTA

[silentretribution]

[The fog comes so quickly, there is no avoiding it, no anticipating it and no chance of getting to shelter. The moment it consumes her, Liz can only stand stock still. She can hear others shouting through the haze, calling out, but they are distant and far from her. Still, she holds her hands out, feeling for anything that might be near her.

Unable to call for anyone, she can only touch and feel as she goes, searching for others. Dizziness sets in quickly, along with other symptoms. It wasn't the death that others had described, but it wasn't an easy feeling either. It only increases her desperation, her need to get away. Once again, she's struck with her inability to speak, her inability to call for help. She's a speck in the white fog, lost completely and small.

God help her, this was Hell.]

[silentretribution]

[She can't answer him, but she had heard him from a distance. With her hands out in front of her, she felt her way towards the sound of him, searching through the fog. Without being able to see the tips of her fingers, she could only take small steps, praying she would avoid any hazards causing her to trip.

She feels the fabric of his shirt first. She gently clutches him, pulling as close as needed until she could see his face. Much like the others in this village, she doubted he would understand sign. She kept the notepad with her, though the light was a bit obscured because of the fog.

Still, this was the only option open to her. So, she took the risk:]

Are you hurt?

[thering]

Was Negan just strategically ruling out everything other than sex? Doc isn't drunk enough for this and honestly he'd never really thought about Negan in that way.

"I'm not certain this place was meant for fun," he points out quietly, taking his time with his own whiskey. He casts a furtive glance over, unconsciously trying to not be nearly as obvious as Negan when it comes to checking someone else out.

"When you put up with all those things you had put up with." Doc lowers his glass into his lap, holding it with both hands. "When you tell yourself you did what you had do so you could sleep at night. What is all for? Are you... expecting someone to formulate a cure? Were you going to outlive the sickness? Raise a child in some-... apocalyptic shithole? If it's all gone to shits what is anybody fighting for?"

[vampirebats]

Hey, he didn't rule out shit. He might not say no to going out and shooting some shit, even if said shit was just makeshift targets. Sounds like his kind of stress release at this point.

"That's why you've got to make your own, Doc. Being a joyless fuck isn't gonna help anybody." It sure as hell doesn't inspire anyone around you or reassure them worth shit.

That's-- a question he doesn't actually expect. It's not one he's sure he wants to touch on either, but he will. "Who says I sleep at night?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "There's not gonna be a cure. We're all gonna turn eventually whether we die of old age or from a bite. The government is gone, the CDC, and anything else that might've helped. Hospitals are in fucking ruins and doctors and nurses are like a damn endangered species. So that ain't it. But there are people still alive and willing, folks who just want to live their lives as best they can. So we're building a new world from the ground up... it ain't easy. I've done shit--"

He pauses, swallowing back the knot of remorse that seems firmly settled in as of late. "Man, I've done plenty of shit I didn't want to do and hope I never have to again, but this can't be the end of it all back home. There are kids still alive, kids still being born... and they deserve better than the shithole God let the earth become. So I'm striving to keep people from becoming the ugly fucks I've seen them become... They need someone to lay down the law, tell'em what to do, and guess I'm that guy."

He lets out a breath and lets his head fall against the back of the couch. "I just don't want to see more people die if I can stop it."

[thering]

"I would never say no to a drink, but. I did have a bit much, yesterday. With you." Surely there needn't be any explanation why. He nudges the door shut behind him, closing it quietly and leaning against it for a precious few long seconds before he breathes out a sigh and musters up enough courage to step forth, moving towards the bed. He sits on the edge of mattress, near Raylan's feet, the weight distribution shifting as he grips the edge before slipping both hands between his knees.

"I pulled up a chair. At the burial site." The chair's probably still there. "We talked. Or, mostly I bitched and moaned and drank your share. Wanted to uh... run a few ideas past ya. What to do with Malcolm and. Ellie and. Yennefer. Must say you weren't very helpful though. Mostly you just listened." A small, fond smile touches his lips as he remembers the man that was. The men they were. Just sitting on the porch, cigarette in one hand, moonshine in the other, talking shit and piercing through the long stretches of silence with the occasional chuckle. He's not sure the man sitting on the other end of the bed is that same man. Might take him a while to get back there to that state. If he can even make it back.

Clearing his throat, Doc loses his hat and tosses it aside, breathing out slow and combing his hair back over above his ear.

"Maybe just one sip, wouldn't hurt." Just one small taste. One light touch. Didn't hurt them any when they were alone. No reason why it should hurt them now.

[vampirebats]

"What?" He tilts his head curiously. "Made what a requirement?"

Being tough? Being alright?

Still, Negan doesn't have much fight left in him at this point to double down on the macho bravado more than necessary, he just shrugs his shoulders. "Alright, so none of us are okay, Neal. Part of me wishes I hadn't woke up again at all, but I did... and we're here and we have to keep going, right? We have to keep each other going."

[vampirebats]

Negan laughs at that. He can't help it. That's one interesting endorsement. "Goddamn, but I'd have missed you if I hadn't-- come back."

Is that how you say it? Come back from the dead, undead, any of that leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

[thering]

'tis not my town. [What is a Zagat? He had not heard of Mathias either, but then, he hasn't heard of a lot of things. These references that go over his head are a frequent enough occurrence that it doesn't seem to bother him.

Tempting as it is to politely decline, he would rather deal with a man who blurs the line between casual and rude than a man who would deliberately put on airs just for him. He has a half dozen tasks he needs to be getting through today, but Doc relents, deciding at the last moment that he would not mind sitting and talking for a while. Maybe he has some ulterior motive to avoid going home, at this juncture. He doesn't give that too much thought when he sits.]

You will find that most people here do not know much more than you. A small handful of us were here before anyone else showed up. There were no locals to direct any questions, complaints or ire towards when we had arrived. [A pioneer back in the day. A pioneer now. Sometimes even when he finds himself in a place where he knows nothing, he comes to find that very little actually changes from one place or one time to the next.]

[thering]

He did not find it easy to put himself in their shoes. His personal trauma skewed and tainted how he perceived trauma in general. He couldn't know how much they had suffered.

"We could fall apart together and not be able to pick anything up." Just as he was not able to do anything for them in those fleeting few seconds between the screaming and the silence. The kind of screaming that would keep anyone awake through successive nights to come. "I would not risk it."

Rubbing his hands down the front of his jeans, Doc looks around for a big broom to start sweeping the rubbish into the corner.