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 considers for a moment, then starts to sing Beyond the Sea, the song he played on Ellie's guitar.

From there, if Daisy doesn't interrupt, it will be Can't Help Falling In Love, Be Careful, It's My Heart, I Could Write A Book, and A Sunday Kind of Love.

He kisses her forehead after he lets the last notes go, waiting to see what she wants him to do.

Edited 2021-03-10 05:04 (UTC)

She doesn't interrupt. How could she? That beautiful voice belongs to the man she loves and is everything she needs right now. So she listens, her pulse slowing and her tears calming until she's only listening, enjoying each song.

Sighing deeply at that precious kiss, she closes her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet sink in, and then starts to sit up properly.

"I need to get some water," she explains quietly, her voice still rough from all the crying. She hates that sound.

Neal lets go slowly, getting up to follow her into the kitchen. He keeps his hand touching some part of her as she gets a drink. Fingertips brushing her hand, her upper arm, the back of her neck. He can't decide if it's because he wants to remind her that he's there or because he wants to remind himself that she is.

She appreciates that he lets her go and doesn't just jump up to do it himself — she feels terrible enough without anyone taking this bit of agency from her. He follows her, though, and she almost appreciates those little touches even more.

A plastic cup is filled with tap water because she doesn't need to drop a glass and have past trauma rear its ugly head tonight when present trauma is doing well enough on its own. She drinks almost the entire thing before turning enough to lean against him instead of supporting herself solely by the counter.

"I feel awful," she confesses, letting herself say it only because she's too exhausted to try hiding it. He'll see it himself so might as well admit it.

"If I say you look awful, am I going to get slapped?" It's quietly teasing, a little reminder of their first day together in that awful apartment above the Grey Gull.

He wraps his arms around her again, gently giving her something to brace herself against. Neal kisses her forehead, stroking her cheek with gentle knuckles. "That's okay Daisy. I know you want to be fine out there, I get that, I do too. But it's okay."

Edited 2021-03-10 21:37 (UTC)

She smiles at his teasing and it feels so good. Despite the pain and exhaustion of the last few days, he still manages to make her smile and she loves him all the more for it.

Nodding at his words, she sighs again, hating so much that he's never known her when she was physically okay. Emotionally... well, that's a different story, but he's never seen her when she wasn't injured in some way. That isn't the image she usually likes projecting, and she can't understand how he fell for her when she's been like this the whole time.

"Thank you for coming tonight," she says softly, seemingly changing the subject but really not. "I really didn't want to be alone."

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to, but." He rested his face against the top of her head. "I couldn't stand thinking about it."

Neal combs his fingers through her hair, gently working a knot loose as he gets caught. "If you didn't want me to I thought maybe Bucky would stay, but I'm not sure where he lives."

The feeling of his fingers in her hair is even more comforting than she remembered, soothing to her senses that feel raw and overloaded. She leans a little more of her weight on him, her hands loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"He's over at the boarding house. And he probably would have; Bucky's a good man." If she were in better spirits she'd launch into fangirl mode, exhaustion be damned.

"Yeah, I got that impression." From Bucky pulling him off that cliffside, from Bucky pulling him and Malcolm up from that tunnel. Maybe he shouldn't say it, maybe Daisy doesn't want to talk about someone else right now, but Neal adds, "He seems lonely."

Edited (pronouns who) 2021-03-11 01:07 (UTC)

As much as Bucky might try to deny it (the same way she had for so long), he's still every bit the hero he was before HYDRA. She'll make it her personal mission to make everyone here see that, including Bucky himself, if that's what it takes.

"He is," she confirms, leaning back enough to be able to look up at Neal with puffy eyes. "He's been through a lot. His life makes mine look like a fairytale."

She pauses, then clarifies with a frown, "The good kind, not the kind where the witch eats the kids and wins. That's more like my actual life."

Neal laughs a little, though there's not much humor in it. There's Mozzie's voice again: There are no fairytale endings for guys like us. Maybe Mozzie was wrong. Half-wrong. Horribly wrong.

He tucks her hair behind her ear. "Can I stay with you tonight? The whole night, I mean."

"I'd like that," she answers with a tiny nod and a tired smile. "I'd like that a lot."

But then she pauses and frowns. "Is it okay for you to be here? You said it was your night to help Malcolm."

As irritated as she was at the man earlier, she knows that Malcolm needs the help. And while she'd love to just assume that everything had been arranged so it was fine without Neal there, she can't do that. She can't just brush aside someone else's needs for her own.

"He told me to come," Neal says, which is the truth. He presses one hand to the side of her face. "Just... let me be here for you tonight. Please?"

She should argue. She should make the case that she'll be absolutely fine on her own, she doesn't need her boyfriend to hold her hand in case the nightmares come. But... she does need that, and she doesn't want to argue. So she reaches up to cover his hand with her own and just nods.

"Can we go to bed? I'm so tired..."

He kisses her. "Absolutely."

It's hard to just walk beside her upstairs, not to crowd her, not to simply pick her up and carry her again. He wants so badly to just hold her, pretend he can protect her. But he's not like her. He's not any kind of hero, not really. That's been driven home the past week in the most brutal way imaginable.

But he can at least curl around her when she climbs into bed and tuck himself in gently against her back. He drapes his arm across her waist, shifting her hair with his other hand to kiss the back of her neck. "Is this all right?"

She moves slowly, both from exhaustion and from the deep bruising that's becoming more apparent the longer she pushes her body. Just like when she'd first arrived in this horrible town, there are no surface injuries, but deep within are areas still sensitive from—

It takes everything in her not to think about that monster. Not now, not when she has Neal with her, not when he's doing everything he can to help her through this. Because she can see that's what he's doing, every gentle touch and warm embrace trying to ease the pain of the last few days without calling attention to it existing at all — and she loves him all the more for it.

"Yeah," she breathes, nodding slightly and resting a hand on his arm around her waist. Her body feels so incredibly heavy and she has to remind herself that it's because she's tired, not because of any drugs. "This is nice... Just not too tight."

She just hopes he doesn't ask about that last bit.

He almost doesn't ask. Almost. But with what seems to be wrong with him--even now, curled in bed with her, he's thinking about the tunnels and the cave in the background like static--he's too worried that something might be wrong with her.

"What is it? Please don't say nothing."

The question makes her go very still, some part of her wanting to bolt out of bed and run while she also just wants to cry again. Neither option is possible with her current state, however, and she doesn't want to lie to Neal. So...

"I woke up today... and I feel the same as I did when I first got here." It's hard to know where to start, how much to say without saying too much. "Something... happened, the day before that, and I'm having a hard time dealing with it."

Look at her, admitting that she's having a hard time twice in one day. Coulson would be so proud.

Neal doesn't tense at the way she says something happened. He keeps himself steady, keeps himself under control. The last thing she needs is for him to get upset while she's sharing. She'll stop talking, or brush it off, or minimize. He strokes her hair with the hand that's not on her waist.

"Tell me," he says gently. "Please. If you can."

For one brief moment, she wants to tell him. It would be such a relief for him to know, to have one less secret between them, but that moment passes as quickly as it came, that fleeting premonition of relief replaced by a fear that sinks into her bones like the cold of space.

"I can't," she whispers, shaking her head before half-hiding her face against her pillow. "I can't, Neal. I'm not ready for you to see me like that."

He stays quiet for a moment, just running his hand through her hair.

"See you like what?"

She's quiet for just as long, trying and failing to find the words to describe how she sees herself after what happened. It wasn't the incident itself, she has nothing to be ashamed of for what was done to her, but the way she's handled it... The fear and pain that still lingers is what she's ashamed of.

"A victim."

He rests his face against the back of her neck, weighing his words. This is one of those capital-M Moments, the kind of conversation that a relationship could change direction around. He doesn't want to push her. But he doesn't want to let her close this fractionally-opened door, either.

"Agent Johnson," he says softly, "whatever happened, whatever was done to you... you're a hero. You're my hero."

Neal kisses the scar on the back of her neck, staying close enough that his lips move over her skin as he talks. "You're also allowed to be Daisy, the wounded. The vulnerable."

He's quiet for a moment. "We're all victims here. Every single one of us. But we're still here, and no matter what else that makes us, it also makes us survivors."

You're my hero. It hurts so much to hear those words because he doesn't know. Neal Caffrey, the normal guy from another universe, has absolutely no idea just how broken she is. He doesn't know the things she's done.

Would he still be saying any of this if he knew? She can't bring herself to hope that he would.

That kiss to one of her many scars makes her tense up, though her hand on his arm presses firmly to keep him in place. She breathes through her fight or flight instinct, listening to his words, trying so hard to let them sink in. Survivors...

But at what cost? What will all of this do to them? She's seen what damage horrible trauma can inflict on even the kindest person and some small part of her is still terrified that she'll end up like her mother, angry and broken and full of hate. The memories of that hate twist into what she endured in that barn and all she can do is try to steady her breathing as her body threatens another round of tears.

Will Neal ever get to know the side of her that's strong? Will he only ever see the broken pieces barely being held together at all?

Neal's glad she tightens her grip on his arm, gives him that signal to stay close. He was going to withdraw a little. Give her space. He relaxes against her again.

He starts singing softly, since that seemed to help downstairs.

"It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by..."

037-040 » the reason for time

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