villagelogs | 037-040 » the reason for time

Entry tags:

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.

navigation | faq | locations | report updates

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Neal nods, taking a moment to just breathe. "The food's back. For whatever that's worth."

He laughs at himself, the sound only slightly unhinged. "It's worth a lot."

"Well, at least we won't have to resort to eating shit yet." There's a wary look cast towards Neal. He wants to ask if he's sure he's alright, but-- fuck it. None of them are. They've established that.

"You gonna be able to keep it together?"

Neal nods. Breathes. Nods again. "Yeah, yeah, I'll..."

He'll manage. They'll all manage. That's all they can do.

Neal bites his lower lip, hesitant to say what he's about to. It feels like admitting to another weakness, and he's got so many of those already.

"I can't get near the fireplace without..." He lifts his shoulders in a prolonged shrug. "I can barely even look at it. But I want to get closer at the same time."

"Hey." He slides his hand up to rest against the side of Neal's face, trying to draw his attention in.

"Don't. Nothing good can come of that and... fire's a shit way to go, right?" Real fucking shitty, actually, but they both know that.

"This shit sucks, doesn't it? The-- coming back like this. Off. The scars and the fire shit and..."

Just all of it.

It works. He'd been looking toward the living room, toward the fireplace, but Negan's hand on his face is both startling and grounding enough to bring him back to the moment. Surprisingly, Neal doesn't pull away. Over the last... It doesn't matter how many weeks, does it? This nightmare town makes a week into months. But while he's been here, he's gotten a lot more used to being touched.

He gives a brief, weak little smile.

"I've never had scars before."

Negan leaves his hand where it is, a grounding force for them both maybe. Neal is warm and alive under his skin after all. It's a reminder they both made it through what this shithole put them through.

There's a tight smile at the confession. "You get used to them. Besides, they mean you lived through whatever shit was thrown at you. Or came back, as the case may be."

There's a very faint attempt at a smile. Might as well try to lighten the mood of get a laugh. "Besides, trust me, chicks dig scars. You say you got them trying to protect people? Panties are dropping, my friend."

Neal snorts, the sound turning into an actual laugh, albeit a small one. "I kind of think part of the reason Daisy likes me is the fact that I don't... have them."

He shakes his head, forcing another smile that makes him look a little like his heart hasn't gotten the memo that he's trying to look happy. It fades after a second.

"I liked being a safe place for her."

He'll consider that laugh a victory at least. "Who says you won't be still? C'mon."

His hand drops to give Neal's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Look, if she cares about you, she's going to be ecstatic to see you alive... scars or no. The real shit... it doesn't stop because of marks we get or what terrible shit you go through. Hell, doesn't even stop because of the terrible shit you do. Trust me on that one."

He's an expert in being a shithead to everyone around her. "And believe me-- if I got my wife back, I wouldn't give a damn what she looked like. She'd still feel like home, like something safe because it's her."

Not that he likes talking about that shit, but-- Neal looks like he could hear it apparently and Negan isn't feeling quite himself enough to lock that shit down.

He nods slowly, not quite meeting Negan's eyes. "She was there, too. On the other side. She made it back, though. I saw her on my way here."

And god, the relief he felt. It was terrifying. The idea that he could have lost her somehow so soon after she said she loved him makes him ill on such a variety of levels.

He lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Negan's wrist in his own silent gesture of attempted comfort. "How--?"

Neal stops. "Sorry, I don't. You don't have to talk about it. I just... never heard you mention her before."

"I'm sorry." Meeting anyone there-- it hadn't been a pleasant experience at all, especially considering what followed after.

"But you're both back now, right? Most important part's not wasting that." He gives a short smile at the squeeze and shakes his head.

"Mm, it's alright. It was cancer." He tries to say it matter-of-factly, like it's an old thing and no big deal. But that'll never really be the truth, will it?

"She was something else. Put up with my ass to the end, even when the world started to go to hell and she got worse. Hell, I think even after-- she's kept her eye on me." He's not especially religious, but something's kept him alive this entire goddamn time.

"But I usually don't talk much about before the dead came back. Doesn't feel like much of a reason most days."

Neal drifts into the kitchen, getting the French press down with intent to make coffee even though he doesn't really want any. It gives him something to do, at least.

He has to take a minute to put the water on to boil, heart in his throat as he turns on one of the burners and sets the kettle on top. It's all he can do to pull himself away and go back to the island at the center of the kitchen, and even with his back to the stove, it's like he can feel the fire there.

"Do you... ever want to? Talk about before?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Sometimes, maybe. Sometimes I don't know if I got the right to relive the good times."

Not when he was an ugly mark on so much of Lucille's life because he's a selfish asshole through and through sometimes. "Don't mind talking about some of it though. I was a coach. Taught at a school... those kids got up to some shit, man. And the parents, man, they hated me."

Neal wants to say that Negan deserves it as much as anyone else in this house. Maybe he will, once Negan is more in the flow, once Neal's coaxed more out of him, but he's pretty sure doing it now would just shut things down. Sometimes reliving the good times is all that gets a person through.

Neal crosses his arms and braces them against the counter, smiling a little. "Somehow that last part doesn't surprise me. What'd you coach?"

"I was a high school gym teacher. I coached those nasty little fucks on remembering deodorant." There's a soft laugh, something a little unguarded about it. He-- doesn't miss what an asshole he'd been to his wife, but part of him misses... that Negan. That normal fucking guy who just needed to do better, be better.

"Never had kids of my own. Uh-- so I thought at least I could try to influence other peoples' to not be little assholes."

Neal grins. "Ah, gym. The one class I consistently skipped."

The lift of his shoulders in a little shrug says no offense. "I've never really been a physical guy. Not in a dodgeball kind of way."

He softens again at the mention of kids. "Did you want some? Kids, I mean. I did. I do."

"Why the hell am I not surprised about that?" He lets out a laugh. "Hey, it's not all dodgeball, man. You'd know if you hadn't skipped."

There was dodgeball though, and Negan's mouth taunting those boys into giving each other the shit. But either way-- that question has him pausing.

"I did, yeah. Never happened with me and the wife though, for whatever reason. Not sure I should be bringing kids into the goddamn end of the world back home."

"Dodgeball and other sweat-soaked measurements of human suffering, then," Neal says, teasing. He turns his attention back to the boiling water, switching the burner off like the dial itself might burn him before pouring water and coffee into the press.

"...What if you didn't go back there?"

It's something he's thought about, for people like Negan. Like Ellie. There has to be a way to get them somewhere better.

"C'mon, how do you keep that figure of yours if you don't get a little sweat soaked once in a while?" He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Although that suggestion has him sobering up. It isn't the first time it's been suggested. "Try not to think that far ahead, honestly. We don't even know when or if we're gonna escape this hell hole alive, right?"

He grins, the expression half-genuine. "I swim."

Not that he's been doing that here. He's been doing things the sweat-soaked measurement of human suffering way.

Neal sobers as well. "We will."

"But you're not swimming here unless you're fucking nuts."

Or not afraid to freeze a nut off, with the way the weather's been during most his time here.

"Yeah--" He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess I'll decide what to do if it's an option."

"I'm not," Neal confirms with a tiny smile. "It's weird, I miss it."

One of those random little things you get used to. He takes a deep breath and fetches mugs for the coffee as the kettle starts to whistle. He pulls it off the burner, reaching for the knob to shut it off, stopping with his fingers on the plastic.

Fire.

Neal closes his eyes and turns it off, turning back around to fill the french press.

"One day at a time, Doc says." Neal gives a little sideways smile. "He reminds me of... of Peter. My supervisory agent. He reminds me of him a lot, sometimes."

"You miss weird shit you wouldn't expect when it's gone for a while. Just how it goes. Back home-- I miss fucking flying. Just taking trips, being up in the air and looking out the window. And fucking video games."

There's a huffed out a laugh. None of it's probably on the same level of swimming, but he gets missing shit you're used to, even years after the fact. Hopefully it won't be years for Neal though.

"Were you and Peter close then?" One day at a time though, that's good advice.

“Flying…” The word is powerfully wistful. “I haven’t been out of New York in three years. I’ve had to stay almost entirely in a two-mile radius of my apartment.”

He flashes Negan a small smile. “Paying my debt to society.”

The smile grows a little at the thought of Peter. “We are. He’s more like a friend than a supervisor.”

"Man, sounds like shit." He huffs a sigh. "Uh, before the world ended... I was actually on probation. Got in a fight with this guy who was being a huge asshole to my wife. I know it's not on the same level, but..."

He gets the way it feels confining, how getting in trouble with the law can change a lot of shit about your life you didn't want it to touch. Shit's gotta suck for Neal.

"Well, at least you don't have to deal with a total prick... that's something, right?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

037-040 » the reason for time

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject