villagelogs | 037-040 » the reason for time

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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"

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.

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[He is no smith but the sound of her chains clinking as she walks past catches his attention, has him glancing over his shoulder from where he stood outside of Poe's clothing store. She is a new face he hadn't seen before and it had seemed rather cruel of Mathias to be bringing in lost souls given the gruesome events that happened only yesterday. People had died and there had been no food. It is of little wonder that the people who had gotten there earlier are keeping their heads down and minding their own business as a heaviness hangs in the air and the blood in the snow turns to an ominous slush in the fall.

Despite his half-distracted, sombre state, he ducks his head and tips his hat as she shuffles past.]

Ma'am. [Those fashion statements on her wrists catches his eye. Whatever she had done in her previous life shouldn't really matter here and those shackles draw unnecessary attention, renders her defenceless in a town that is not as forgiving as it had been before.]

Would you allow me to assist you, with those?

[It's a greeting that takes her back to Bismuth and Frank. He's courteous, seemingly kind and a figure that would do well in a mining town. She has to search her mind, to make sure she hasn't met him somewhere before, given how familiar he is. In the end, there was no other option but to simply accept it as brief nostalgia.

More importantly, he was offering help. He wasn't immediately jumping to her as a criminal or something else. That was enough to make her smile and offer up her wrists, eager for the chains to come off.

Only then, does she remember that he can't read her mind and he'd likely need some confirmation. So as best as she scribble out, she writes:]

The chains are a bit tight. Can you get them off?

[If he was waiting for her to say something back it seemed like he would be waiting a long time. He is curious, but patient, head tilted to one side as she writes. She seems to understand him, so he assumes she can hear him but cannot respond in the same way. Usually he is one of the quieter people in the room, unless he is giving overly verbose life advice. This will take some getting used to.]

Yes, alright. Let me quickly find you a coat first. [It had only just turned from winter to fall - not the strangest thing to have happened around these parts - but the coat is more for dignity than anything else. He ducks into the clothing store they are standing outside of and takes the first thing that looks to be a good size for her, a simplistic mahogany double breasted trenchcoat which he brings back out for her and folds to drape over her hands, so no one can see her shackles.]

Come with me? I am taking you to 1306 Phillips Drive. We have tools. [And hot food. And a place to sit and rest for a while, should she want to.]

[It's a kind gesture, one that reminds her that she wasn't dressed for colder weather. Once the shackles were off, she would need to scrounge and hoard the things that would make surviving in this strange place possible. Fresh clothes would be a start. She notes where he found the coat and files it in the back of her mind for later.

The address means nothing to her, but she follows regardless. Whether or not someone saw the shackles didn't matter much to her either. It would be different if it were a noose around her neck, but shackles, so many others had worn them for various reasons. If she had a criminal reputation now, so be it. She made quite the intimidating figure, the mute woman with the golden curls.

She watches the buildings pass, trying to make note of any place that might seem important, but the promise of the chains coming off has her eager and keeping a quick pace. She does manage to scribble out one question for him:]

Your name?

Oh yes of course. Where are my manners? My name is John Henry. [He is of the tight-lipped smile and hat-tipping generation, which is just as well since it would be awkward for her her shake his hand.]

Most people here call me 'Doc'. [He will not bore her with the old tales. The dentistry and the tuberculosis and the gunslinging - it's all very dreary business. Perhaps he can regale her another time, should she like to visit for a more social reason.

He gestures toward the house and starts approaching the door, unlocking and opening it to let her inside.] Have a seat on the couch. I'll make some tea and bring the tools in from the garage. [The house is modern inside, pendant lights and an open concept kitchen that you can see from the door. He stays in sight for most of the time, leaving the kettle to boil while he goes through the internal door to fetch his tools. It's not until he's back by her side with a tea in one hand and a toolbox in the other that he does resume their conversation.]

So. How may I address you, ma'am?

You're a doctor? [The words are scrawled messily as she tries to keep up with him, encumbered by both the chains and her movements. Still, she tipped her head in greeting, grateful that they didn't try shaking hands.

Her wrists ache when she finally sits on the couch. Despite the awkward situation and state she finds herself in, she takes a moment to scan her surroundings, both in curiosity and in admiration. For the moment, she was staying at the boarding house, which was nice enough, but not as comfortable as a home of your own.]

My name is Liz Brundy. You can call me 'Liz'.

I am... was, a dentist, a long time ago. I was always a better gunslinger though. [He would have said he is better known for being an outlaw but it presumed a certain level of fame or notoriety that he does not wish to flaunt. He would rather assume the mantle of a good Samaritan in passing than be that idolised hero he most definitely does not live up to in person.]

Alright, Miss Liz. Do you mind? [He reaches over to give one of the shackles on her wrists a little tug. When she relents, he gently grasps onto her curled fingers to bring her hand a little closer to him so he can take a closer look at the setup. They are fairly heavy duty, and not something you can use simple wire cutters to remove. But they are old, rusted, and looks fairly easy enough to take apart with some pliers and a spanner.

Doc is actually fairly terrible with tools, especially modern ones, and this is usually a hammer and spike affair, but he's been in enough chains of his own to know how to get her out without needing to get the mallet out. He starts loosening the biggest bolt, keeping his head lowered and his eyes focused on freeing her.]

Has anyone here been giving you any trouble, Miss Liz? [A twist and a hard yank and he manages to undo one side enough for her hand to slip out. Presumably she had been in some kind of trouble before she arrived. Hopefully it hasn't managed to follow her here.]

Most men are. [At least in her experience. It would be strange to meet someone that wasn't a gunslinger. Even Eli, gentle Eli who preferred caring for the sheep and the farm knew how to use a gun well enough to survive. That was simply how it was, no matter how much she disliked it, if you wanted to survive, you used a gun.

She's silent as he works to remove the shackles, regarding him with an unreadable expression. It was a bit surreal to be in this situation. The last she dealt with an outlaw, she was on his end of things. Now she was the one on the run, she was the one who would have to explain how she got like this and she would have to live with her eyes constantly watching for any that could disturb her newly found peace.

As soon as her wrist is free, she gives it a twist to get the blood flowing again. Not having a tongue allows her time to always weigh her words and what she wants to say. She can remember the last village she lived in, how quick people turned against her. She's not looking for that sort of life here either.]

Not here and it was a misunderstanding.

[A misunderstanding to be sure, but hanging was always serious.]

Most men are...? Gunslingers? [That might have been true of his time, but not anymore it seems. There are probably men amongst them who would not know how to use one.]

Most men are selfish. Guns afford a... certain level of selfishness. [He flashes her a brief tight-lipped smile before putting the tools away and moving the shackles aside with his foot.]

May I? I'd like to make sure nothing is broken. [If she sets her pen and paper down and lets him, he would reach halfway up her arm and give it a light squeeze, working his way down to her wrist, fingers pressing against her pulse and then the heel of her hand, twisting a bit to loosen her up and to check for any bones that might feel out of place in the process. He would then take up her other hand and do the same. But if she looks like she might take his eye out with her writing instrument, he might just have to make do with keeping an eye out for any wincing or grimacing.]

I shall not inquire into the nature of this misunderstanding. But know that you may come here to seek refuge, should you ever need it, and we would provide. [It has taken him some time to become used to the fact that it is not so unnatural or improper anymore for women on their own to be visiting a house full of quirky men, and not for him to be calling upon her. Perhaps she will come to a similar conclusion, in her own time.]

Please, have some tea. [He gestures over to where it's sitting.] I could also offer you a warm bath, upstairs, and a change of clothes. [Maybe gunslingers aren't known for their kindness but they don't make fun of 'southern hospitality' for nothing.]

[She nodded. Gunslingers. When she would see other types of men would likely be as she settled, but for now, there was only her world and her life that she knew and men were very similar to Doc.

She had to smile at his response. It was perhaps the most honest that she's seen a man. She thinks of Samuel and what he might say to that, but his face has become more hazy over time. She imagines that he would laugh as well. Selfish was easy when the world was brutal and hard.

At the offer, she puts down her pen and paper and lets him take her arm. There's a small flinch at the pressure, but it's only because her arm has felt numb for so long. The sudden sensation is strange and there is an ache as the blood begins to flow again. She waits for him to finish before grabbing her paper and pen again, letting him do what he needed.

His words make her face grow dark and solemn. She taps the pen against the paper, more out of nerves than in thinking of something to say.] You don't need that sort of trouble.

[She had seen too many bystanders die in her time. Her loved ones, her family. The mere idea of someone helping her, trying to protect her, it was a death sentence in her experience. She couldn't stomach it anymore.]

I wouldn't be an intrusion? I can work for the food and clothes?

[He is patient while she writes, never rushing to answer her even though he can surmise the end of the sentence before she's finished writing.]

It wouldn't be any sort of trouble at all. [Normally he would jokingly flirt. Pass a comment about beautiful women and the troubles they do or do not bring. He isn't sure she would welcome it so soon after meeting him. She might think he harbours other intentions than purely wanting to help.]

You are welcome to spend as much time as you like here. I would ask nothing of you. But I understand if you would not accept charity. We could use your assistance in the greenhouse when you are well rested, if you are willing. 'tis where we are... attempting, to grow something. Without me killing every plant I touch. [As it turns out, he does not have the magic touch when it comes to sprouting tomatoes. Too much water, too cold, the soil is too compact - who knows.]

My sort of trouble gets people killed. [There is some belief she is safe. Dead is dead and she saw the Reverend burn with her own eyes, but he's come back before and broken her sense of peace. And given that this world could resurrect those that perished, it wasn't a stretch to think it was possible that he be brought here. If that was true, she wasn't about to get Doc involved, for his sake especially. She would protect him and the others here with the same ferocity that she protected her daughter.]

I want to work while I'm here. I don't want to be idle. [She had to smile at his words. Some didn't have the gift of making things grow, but given his gentleness, it was a surprise that he wasn't blessed that way.] I'd be glad to help. I have more experience raising animals but I know how to garden and farm.

People get killed here anyway, with or without you. [He is frank about the perils of this town. It is deceptively quiet. Not so long ago this was not the case. And not so long from now they will be in some kind of trouble again.]

You won't find a single animal here. Nonetheless it sounds like I could stand to learn a thing or two from you. Food is readily supplied by the store and the Marshal who also lives here is looking at restoring the restaurant. I would be happy to show you around the town when you feel ready to explore the place. [He probably sounds like he's lived here all this time but he's just been here longer. For all the good that it did them. They are no closer to getting home today than they were when he had first arrived.]

[She nodded, grateful for the offer and clearly in need of a patient guide. Eventually, she would have to find someone to act as an interpreter, at least until others were able to follow her signing. But that was an eventual thing. For now, there was work she could do to keep busy and a friendly face she could rely on, as much as she wanted to avoid the same mistakes.

Help was an inevitable thing to seek.] Where does the food come from if it's supplied for us? [She feel uneasy, but can't say why. Only that familiar suspicion and worry that defined most of her adult life was as sharp as ever. Something was keeping them here and something was seeing they were well fed.]

Is there a place I can stay?

That I do not know. I have seen no trucks or wagons, no staff that replenish the shelves. They simply do. [He's sat there and watched them fill up again like some kind of inconceivable magic and this, like many other strange things about Mathias, he has slowly begrudgingly come to accept.]

We had a few days recently of the shelves remaining barren, but for the most part, it seems to work on its own. [Of course he would warn her if there is anything life- or sanity-threatening that she should avoid, but he would leave her to do some of these safer discoveries on her own.]

No reason yet to try and kill each other with our bare hands, but. I would not rule that out completely. [She seems like a practical lady. He is too. At the end of the day when it comes down to survival, when it's a me vs. you dog eat dog world, it's not personal.]

I would invite you to stay with us, but we are rather at full occupancy in this house, and you may not feel comfortable being the only lady here. [Not to mention Malcolm's night terrors. They keep everyone up at night.] Any unoccupied house nearby or room in the Boarding House, should you want that kind of living arrangement, is free for you to move into. Should you wish to meet them, there are a couple of ladies next door that-a-way in 1304, Miss Ellie and Miss Yennefer. [Speaking of Ellie brings a small twinge of a fond smile to his lips and Yennefer, well. He is a man. He has looked. He has thought, sure. She is drop dead gorgeous, otherworldly by every measure. And indubitably powerful, utterly short-tempered, and absolutely crazy. What more is there to say? Both of them would have him or any other man in town eating out of their hands.

So would Liz, come to think of it. It takes a certain kind of damsel in distress whom life had done over hard to still be managing to sit here standing strong, not elicit an ounce of pity beyond whatever misguided spike of kneejerk emotions that first impression gave. She too is gorgeous, and in a deceptively delicate package. If he had half her courage and resilience, he would easily be twice the man he had become.]

Yennefer is the one attempting to grow the tomatoes. The house across the road, 1307, we are using to brew some bootleg liquor. 1308 the other way next door is currently unoccupied. [He wants her close out of sheer protective and community instinct; he only has the two eyes to watch over everyone, even though he is under no obligation to be minding the whole town's business, but she is free to stay anywhere she likes, of course.]

Ma'am I hate to be-... oversteppin', but it is imperative you know, to avoid going into the fog. Or out at night at all, if you can help it. Should you receive any cryptic instructions, through the telephone or a note or any other means, you should heed it. If there are any notices posted on buildings or in the Town Hall noticeboard, you oughta heed those too. 'tis not a good idea to be living alone, but it is your choice. Should you need any help cleaning out any abandoned places, should you get hurt, should anyone give you any trouble at all - I am at your disposal.

So long as there is food for now. [She would figured out the rest as it came. The point was that she was dry, warm and in a safer place where no one knew her. That tended to be all she could ask for. Starting again wasn't anything new, how many times did she reinvent herself? Once alone at night, she would think about the implications of all of this. Death, magic and whatever else, but she could at least put her mind at rest that she had a means to survive.

She had to smile though. Not killing each other? What world did that not happen in?] There will be something eventually. Maybe not money, but a woman or something that they want? At least there aren't standoffs in the street, I suppose. [That was common enough in Bismuth, but less so on the frontier. Retribution there came in other forms.

She can hear the tenderness in his voice and that at least indicates who she might be able to trust or rely on. Anyone he was fond of, she would keep in mind. Still, living so close with others could bring trouble. She wasn't eager to take an empty house, not really needing the space or privacy. A boarding house would be better, so long as she wasn't expected to pay rent for now.]

The boarding house should serve for now. [He was certainly kind, the sort of man she might feel naturally drawn to. In many ways, he reminded her of her late husband. The bushy facial hair and the tender concern, they were the two elements of Eli that still came to her mind late at night. The sort of man that would try to help anyone in distress. That's what made it difficult for her to rely on Doc, well aware of what could happen to him...as it happened to Eli.

But he drew her mind away from that, talking about the fog and other strange things.]

What's in the fog?

I will make you some food. It will be ready after your bath. [He hasn't forgotten his offer, though he's not hurrying her along upstairs or to anywhere else. She can take her time here. Ask questions as she thinks of them. They don't need to be anywhere in a hurry. He'll even walk her to the Boarding House before it's too dark and possibly dangerous for anyone to be walking around outside risking anything, when she feels she is ready to leave.]

We haven't had too many beautiful women come along. At least, not until today. [He can't help it, but at least he's not actually actively trying to layer on the charm. He flashes her an almost boyish smile before ducking his head and nodding.]

The best guess was some kind of choking gas, in the fog. The people who had been touched by it seemed to have been suffocated. You can spend a little bit of time in it, so you would have time to seek shelter, but. Too long and it is likely fatal. [Maybe it is not a gas. Maybe it is some kind of infernal magic. Maybe a dangerous creature does lurk within it, attacks people at random, like the one that had mauled those who had just returned from the dead. In any case, it is a fate he does not wish upon anyone, especially seeing as he had been one of the people to bury the dead.]

Thank you. It's no trouble for you? [She wasn't going to object to food, especially freshly cooked. Her stomach was rumbling at the mere thought of it. This could almost be mistaken for home, and Doc's kindness was a large part of that. As much as she knew she shouldn't put him out, she was grateful for the hospitality, much needed after this large shock and the draining day.

She gave a small smile, having forgotten what it was like to have that sort of charm offered to her. It left her feeling more sad than anything, the shadows of the past never far from her mind.] There's always beautiful woman, but thank you.

[It's strange. She's never heard of deadly fog like that before, but it's enough to put her on edge. Dead might not stay dead here, but she's not really looking to experience it again. Once was enough for her for now.] Where does the fog come from? It can't be natural.

Not at all. [And honestly, even if it was trouble, what kind of a gentleman would say that? The only thing is, he is not like Neal Caffrey who can churn out dishes the likes of which he has never seen or tasted the divinity of before. He's a simple and practical man from the country. That she hasn't sampled Neal's cooking or seen the kind of New York City he has lived in is the only reason he is willing to even subject her to his pedestrian beef stew and beans on toast.]

The fog is not natural, no, but I don't know where it comes from. I wish I could tell you more, but. We are at the mercy of some very mysterious captors. Pursuing answers, it only seems to lead to more questions. I do know that the fog, it-- is some kind of means of controlling us, of limiting where we can go. [He knows how crazy that sounds, but honestly, he has been sincere with her so far, and he hopes that she would heed his advice. Ultimately he doesn't want her or anyone else getting hurt. If she wants to test or try something out for herself, he hopes in earnest that she would not do anything too extreme. But he would be there for her anyway on the off-chance that she does land herself in hot water.]

I suppose nothing and none of us are very 'natural' around here. [That's probably not of any consolation but he has a feeling she'll get used to this gilded cage. It's better than the one that had kept her in chains. He is at least certain of that.]

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037-040 » the reason for time

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