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villagelogs2021-02-27 04:31 pm
villagemod) wrote in villagelogs2021-02-27 04:31 pm
Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- alec hardison (leverage),
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- eliot spencer (leverage),
- john carter (er),
- raylan givens (justified),
- ~ bucky barnes (marvel live action),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ neal caffrey (white collar),
- ~ tony stark (marvel live action),
- ~ will graham (hannibal)
037-040 » the reason for time
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"
CONDITIONS UPDATE
OOC NOTES
navigation | faq | locations | report updates
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.
— 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?
— 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.
John Carter | ER
Day 037 - Closed to Eliot (cw: death, blood, handling of dead bodies, description of gory injuries)
That's his first thought when he looks outside and sees the change of season. Like pressing rewind on his VHS player, faint static lines causing the scene to flicker while everything reversed into what happened before. That's his first thought.
His second thought is oh no.
With the snow melting he's out in front of the house because Eliot's body is still out there and that's gonna be a problem soon. So much for I'll take care of it tomorrow. If it weren't so grotesque and terrible it could almost be funny. Sorry I procrastinated the dead body. Man. This is the worst trauma karma in the history of mankind.
He brings one of the blankets, too, because without the snow covering it up Eliot's gruesome injuries see the light of day again. Even with Carter cleaning up the body and stitching the worst of it back together, it's still awful and he gently wraps the body up, wondering what to do about it. Probably get some help to get it to the graveyard. Like he should have done yesterday.]
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Honestly, he should have seen this coming. He was so distracted with Hardison being here that it didn't even occur to him that his body might still, actually, exist somewhere. On some subconscious level he assumed that he'd simply taken the thing with him when he visited the weird, red hell-Mathias. And unless this was another circle of hell-Mathias, and he'd simply carried along his body with him. Or his immortal soul, or whatever was actually happening here. Except he couldn't be in hell-Mathias if Hardison was here. He was simply too good for that.
Except he had to see the place where it happened. Needed to see it. Maybe it would make it more real, maybe it would help ground him more.
He doesn't tell Hardison that's what he's doing, he just starts...randomly walking in that direction. As one does.]
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He actually gets a half-decent benefit of the doubt runway from Hardison when he sets off. AKA when they both mutually set off. Town is in a specific area, after all. Gotta get back. That tracks.
It's safe to say that the closer they get to ground zero, the more he's trying to pull a stealth 'what if we go any direction but that specific direction. Yes, that specific direction that seems as hard-wired into your navigational system as it became hard-wired into mine yesterday.' Which is to say, he thinks it's stealth and it's not, which is probably a big part of what works against him.
Walking through the slushy street blood river directly towards a murder scene that... might still contain the body? Is that how it works? Are there respawn rules? Will there be enough snow still packed on to avoid seeing it if it's there? Not high on Hardison's list of treasured activities. His plan was very get help, get there, get Eliot buried up until a little while ago.
He should've worked faster.
Given his commitment to Eliot not being out of his sight, though, he's grandfathered himself in here. He'll be the very nauseous looking one. A true tour de force. ]
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This isn't fine.
This is so very, very far from fine and Carter curses when the blankets are starting to soak while he works. Great. That would make the body even heavier. Should he have used something else? It's awful like this, like a mummy slowly coming back to life.
Which is maybe why there's some short-circuit in his brain when he suddenly sees Eliot approaching and his hands come up, still wet from melting snow and blood as he fumbles in a panic.]
I'm sorry I didn't bury you!!
[... Wait, what?]
Wait, what?
[He stares while his mind desperately tries to catch up. Sometimes people came back. Doc had told him as much. But... He stares down at the wrapped bundle. Up at Eliot. Down at the bundle. Up at Eliot.
He could probably do this all day.]
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This wasn't something like that at all.]
What the hell?
[Eliot probably should have stopped and took stock of the situation. He was shocked, usually when people are shocked they take a moment. But he realizes exactly what Carter means in an instant and he has to see it. God, he can't see this. He has to see this.
He looks, his eyes wide and furious and horrified and everything all at once, towards Hardison, knowing that he'd be next to him the moment he started walking. He probably should have told Hardison not to see this--his own reaction to this but honestly he was an anchor to him. It wasn't entirely unlike when he'd brought him to Moreau--just by him being there it kept him from being swept away by Moreau again.
Everyone thought he was a rock but what happened when you were the rock when the whole damn mountain came crashing down?]
That me?
[His throat is raw again and his voice sounds thick. The rivers of melted blood snow aren't helping. Nor is the soggy mummy form that Carter is currently panicking about.
This can't possibly be happening. But it is. He wonders vaguely if he's a ghost now. Or a zombie. Is that how it works? But zombies use their own dead bodies, right? How is this even a thing he has to think about!? This is like one of those dumb movies Hardison liked.
There are very few things in his life that he's gruesome about. He's seen a lot of dead bodies. So many from his own hand.
It was only right he has to see his. Experience it.
He looks over at Hardison.]
I need to see it.
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The snow is not still packed enough. There's a body under a wet blanket and it's Eliot, and that's a mental record skip every time even with Eliot standing right there next to him. Hardison does a cool job of looking anywhere that the body is not.
John looks a very appropriate level of horrified and traumatized and maybe ready to cry. Hard same. Hardison shoots him a look that's all sympathy. He tries to infuse it with some hey, man, I didn't bury him either, that's on both of us energy or some sorry he didn't come back with new manners, ha ha energy. He'd probably have just said one out loud, but Eliot wants to see his own corpse, and that's a priorities combo breaker.
It's a lot. Hardison might be regretting the all-nighter right now, because he feels very unqualified to rise to the challenge of this moment. He can't even land fully on scared or angry. ]
Need to or want to? [ He can't make the body not be here. He can't make Eliot not look if Eliot's made up his mind to look. All he can really do is try to make sure the distinction is on the table to be considered. ] If you just need to know it's real, we can both already tell you it's real.
[ From his personal experience, a viewing pursuit that cannot be taken back once it happens, even a tiny little bit. ]
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That me? Eliot says. I need to see it, Eliot says.
Hi, I'm back from the dead, Eliot doesn't say but radiates with his showing up and with his presence and his general being here. And then there's Hardison too, just casually strutting up like that with his buddy in tow and they're both just here and Carter feels so happy and relieved for them and he wants to scream and throw snow at them, too.
They told him about this. People dying and people coming back. Nobody told him that people could do both at the same time! He suddenly feels wildly angry about this, a hot anger, a childish anger, one that makes him want to stomp his foot or kick something. But the only thing nearby is Eliot's body and he is not kicking that.]
Sure.
[He stammers, he's still working on a better response, on any kind of response. Professional might be a good choice. He's the doctor, the medical expert, he should be able to find that fine line between empathetic and controlled.]
Yeah. Sure. No problem. I was just... about to pack him up. Pack you up.
[Or maybe not. Maybe he can just be a babbling idiot about this.]
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[It's not that he doesn't trust them. He trusts them both--Hardison with his life, and Carter with...apparently his death. But he needs to see it.
He deserves to see it.
And now with the warmth it seems like there is going to be an issue here very quickly, but he gets why they didn't bury him yet. Him, not the body. The body, not him. It'd be fine until spring. Until it's fall suddenly. This doesn't make any sense and it still feels like he's in some kind of surreal dream.]
Thank you.
[It's not something he'd normally say but it just comes out. What do you say to people who just...took care of your damn body? He honestly doesn't know what to do right now. Just that he has to.
He kneels down over it.
Yeah, he's gonna touch it.]
The face. Is it...?
[He looks up at Hardison, then Carter, taking a deep breath, like he's about to dive underwater.]
Is it...intact?
[He remembers it being bad. The attack. Bad enough that he wouldn't be surprised if the body wasn't in great condition.]
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Hardison feels like this could only be wilder if someone handed Eliot a stick to poke at it with. There's a lot of sci-fi theory about two of the same person occupying the same space and touching each other, he guesses, so maybe someone should have handed Eliot a stick. Which sort of, as a concept, makes him have to swallow a bubble of less-than-well-timed laughter before it can get traction. That might also be straight nausea he's swallowing. Very similar in practice. ]
John, uh. He cleaned it up some. Still qualified as a face by my standards. [ Relatively squeamish standards. He can't speak on any of the rest. The face was enough to put him down as it was. John is the real MVP of this life experience, in Hardison's correct opinion. ] I'm gonna-- I'm gonna just.
[ Vaguely gesture, apparently?
Hardison ups his 'looking anywhere but at the dead body' game by doing a 180 on the spot and standing with his back to it. He'll provide all the emotional support he can muster, absolutely, without a second thought. Spiritual, mental, whatever. He will stand right here while Eliot gets whatever he needs to get out of this and then go from there.
He's putting his line in the sand on the second viewing for himself at this particular juncture. That is not a thing he thinks he can deal with right now. He was building up his wrapping and burial fortitude all night. It didn't include the live Eliot. A lot of that fortitude evaporated once he saw that there was a live Eliot, so he's got to salvage new, fresh fortitude from the ashes. ]
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And that makes all the difference.
Because it's not about him, is it. It's about Eliot who was about to see a thing nobody should ever have to see. And about Hardison who, despite his own trauma, obviously came here to be supportive. And about both of them trying to come to terms with what had happened. With traumatic loss and grief and working through it - only to have it turned on its head again, leaving them stranded in the middle of an emotional turmoil that had no precedent.
Carter suddenly understands that he has to do this. He might not want to, like he doesn't want to lose patients, like he doesn't want to face grieving relatives, but he has the means to help, right here, right now. Hardison turns away from the body and it's clear he can't do this for obvious reasons. But Carter can. He can't do other things, can't do the long time care, probably not even the emotional support Eliot needs - that's Hardison's prerogative - but right now he can be the one to guide him through this.
All right.
All right, he can do this.
He takes another deep breath, nods, and slowly pulls back the sheet from the body's face. He works slowly, trying to remember where the worst of the gashes were and making sure he doesn't accidentally uncover them.]
It's intact. But the rest of the body was in very bad condition. There were lacerations and and gashes to the arms, legs and the upper body.
[His tone is gentle as he presents the facts. Be sensitive but don't lie to your patients. Don't belittle them. They have a right to know.]
Some injuries resemble knife wounds but they were not inflicted by a human.
cw: mentions of murder
There's an apologetic look in Eliot's eyes for a brief moment, before he turns back to the--his--the body. He didn't mean to make you see this again, make you go through this again, Hardison. That's not something he would have ever asked of him and there's a flare of an old familiar friend.
Guilt.
He turns to Carter--not as much guilt there, the dude was a doctor and he expects him to be professional about it, but he's young and Eliot recognizes that familiar grit, that bravery, that moment when you gotta do something that every fiber of your being is screaming at you not to do, but responsibilities are calling and you had to answer them. There's a nod of respect there, as Carter starts talking. It's a strange kind of respect--a battlefield respect, and right now Carter is firmly placed in that special spot where his soldiers were and still remain. He might be panicky and clumsy in the face of supernatural monsters, but he couldn't blame him for that. Or anyone, really. Carter certainly showed his mettle right here, right now, and for what he did for his body.
Has anyone even done this before? Carter was doing this admirably.
And there it is.
His body.
As much as Eliot was stoic, as much as he prided himself in being brave and not backing down with any fear, this was almost a compulsion. Every molecule in his brain was screaming at him at how wrong this was. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies before. Made them. But for this to have his own face, for this to be his, for him to remember how it happened and now be staring at his own remains is just...
...it's gonna haunt him like hell for the rest of his life. However long that's gonna be.
He wonders if his many victims are resting easier today.
He reaches out and has to touch it, as if it would make it more real. His fingers brush his own forehead, tracing the wounds. There's an exact scar that matches it on his own forehead.
A part of him wants to see it all, to dig through the snow and see it, but he knows that's not a good idea. Almost objectively he can feel this is messing him up, in his heart of hearts, in his soul, in his mind. He finally lets go, his intense eyes as wide as saucers, his breath coming in faster.
This is probably not good for him. Or anyone, as much as he thinks he can take this.
Carter was saying something but it's hard to figure out what he said. The whole world is kind of extremely loud and extremely silent at the same time.]
What?
[knife wounds
not inflicted by a human
Wasn't human. Eliot laughs, it's a bitter bark, on any other person it would be the start of hysterics but he just doubles down on keeping his face impassive.]
Yeah. That's about right. Wasn't human. Wasn't anythin'.
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Except it was something, wasn't it. Something that tore Mr. Spencer apart, ripped him to pieces. Something beyond reason, something beyond comprehension, something that you saw but at the same time didn't, something so terrible your mind just refused to process it. For a moment Carter vividly remembers the state he had found Eliot in the next morning, before the cleanup. He takes a very slow, very deliberate breath against the sudden queasiness and when Eliot looks away from the body he immediately wraps it up tight.
Now what?
The look on his face is terrible and Carter knows he needs to say something, do something, guide him through this somehow and he desperately tries to think back of his psych rotation. But there's no manual here, no case file, no example to fall back on.
"Come on, Carter," a voice in his mind says that sounds a lot like Dr. Greene's. "What does your patient need?"
What does Eliot need?]
... Sit back.
[He reaches out, takes Eliot's shoulders, turning him away from the body gently but firmly.]
I'm going to take your vitals.
[Vitals, vitality. Because Eliot is alive.
And he probably needs to hear that and maybe Hardison does, too. Some outside assessment, something tangible, some objective truth that Eliot is here, that he is in a body that is intact because it suddenly occurs to Carter that that fact might be contestable, in limbo somehow.
He takes Eliot's wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze.]
All right. Feels pretty solid to me. Got a pulse, too.
[A pretty rapid one but maybe they could work on that. Carter grabs his stethoscope, holding it up for Eliot to see. Check-ups. Touches. Grounded in the here and now, in reality.]
When I tell you, I want you to take a deep breath for me and hold it, all right?
[He says it slowly, emphatically.
Because you're breathing. You're here.]
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Day 038-039 - ota
Happy, yes, overwhelmed actually by a happiness that bars description because it's an impossible thing to be happy about.
At the same time, he just feels odd. Unsure. Which in turns makes him feel very guilty. Because how could he be anything but happy?
He remembers people telling him that this could happen - on his first day arriving here, as a matter of fact - but he never thought he'd see it. And he never thought anyone could return from something as gruesome as the hunt.
Or had they?
There were still bodies. People had still died. And they were still dead if the bodies counted for anything, right? That there on the ground was still the Eliot that had protected him that night, right? How could there be two? It leaves him on edge and antsy while he roams the streets on these confusing days, seeing if he can lend a hand somewhere. While he's glad the snow is gone, the seasonal shift feels as unnatural as the return of the dead.
Eventually, he'll make his way over to the town hall. If there are any news or developments, like maybe a list of the people who returned, he's sure he'll find it there.]
Day 040 - ota
Stumbling around the fog feels a little bit like that. How he had pictured this Nothing as a kid. Carter rubs at his eyes, sometimes waves his hands right in front of them just to give them something to focus on while he stumbles around blindly.
Despite the hunt, it doesn't really occur to him to stay quiet or that there's a possibility something might be lurking out there again. All he wants is to find anything, anyone, and he's calling out over and over.]
Hello!? Can anybody hear me!?
[Is he still in town? Has he wandered into the woods? Probably not, he'd see the trees then, right? But if he was still in town, shouldn't he see the houses then eventually? Can you get so lost in a small town that no matter in which direction you turned you missed them all? What's even the statistical probability of that!?]
Anyone! Please!? Is anybody out there!?
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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?
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He feels a little embarrassed now, losing his cool like that.]
Hey! Hi.
[It's then he notices the notepad and leans down to squint at it, then shakes his head.]
No, I'm-- I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just, a little freaked out. What about you? Are you okay?
[And then he realizes that there's probably a reason for the writing. And for her not calling back. He frowns, pointing at the paper.]
Do you understand me? Do you want me to write, too?
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She touched her lips and shook her head. That was a nicer way of telling someone that she couldn't speak other than showing her tongue.]
I can hear you fine. No tongue.
[This kept them in place longer than they should linger. They were out in the open, unable to see or hear much around them. They were open targets. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.]
Do you remember what direction you came from? We need to find shelter.
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[There's a pang of sympathy. No tongue. Even though he's used to all sorts of ailments, that's really grim.]
I...
[At her question, he turns in a small half-circle, looking around helplessly.]
I'm not sure. It feels like I've been wandering for hours...
[But it's easier for him to pull himself together and focus now that he has a companion. He's always worked better in a team.]
We should... we should be systematic about this. If we're still in town, the houses can't be far. Maybe we can walk a circle, slowly make it bigger...
[If there were houses on any side they had to reach one eventually, right?]
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Suspicion takes over practicality and she's quick to warn him:]
Don't shout for now. We don't know what we might get the attention of.
[She had no desire to see her new companion killed so soon after finding him. Being alone in this fog, without sound, without sense, it was terrifying. Her breath came roughly at the thought, shaking at shadows that might or might not be out there.
She offered him her hand, to at least ensure they stuck together as they started to wind through the thick.]
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Right.
[He lowers his voice to an almost whisper.]
Good thinking.
[When she offers her hand he's quick to take it and sets out with her, slowly moving in (what he hopes is) circles outward in the search for one of the houses. The silence soon weighs on him and he glances over a few times.]
I'm John. John Carter.
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She hadn't thought that she wandered too far, but apparently, she was further away than she first imagined. She gave his hand a squeeze, stopping after a few minutes for them to catch their breath. It didn't help that she was starting to feel dizzy and sick.]
Someone told me the fog does things to you?
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[It's muttered, he's keeping his voice down, but saying it just feels important somehow. Or maybe he just wants to calm himself down because he can feel the panic rising as they keep walking and walking and nothing shows up. Are they doing it wrong? Even if they can't find a house, there should be a shrub, a tree, something?]
It-- it does. Or so I've heard. It never happened to me before but people told me it's dangerous.
[Deadly, even but he doesn't want to think of that right now.]
Maybe it's... messing with our heads? Makes us go in circles?
[If that's the case, what should they do? What could they do?]
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She can tell though that he is afraid, which only raises her own fear, made worse by whatever effects the fog was causing. The headache, the nausea and dizziness were making it difficult for her to keep her steps one in front of the other. He wasn't wrong in suggesting they were going in circles. It was possible she was weaving because she couldn't focus and the ground continue to spin under her.
Resting for long was a bad idea, but she needed a minute more to try and keep her balance.]
Even in circles, we will find something eventually.
[She had to hold to that, for his sake and her own.]
How long have you lived here? How well did you know the layout?
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[Which seems crazy now that he says it out loud. It feels like he has been here so much longer.]
The town isn't that big from what I know. I think we're still somewhere in it? Otherwise we would have run into some forest trees.
[He thinks. He hopes.
Speaking of the forest. His eyes dart down to pay more attention to the ground when he suddenly remembers the cliff he had once stumbled upon while exploring the outskirts. He starts shuffling his foot too, drawing a little outward spiral as they walk. ]
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