037-040 » the reason for time

[villagemod]

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

By nightfall, the fog still has not dissipated.

---

CONDITIONS UPDATE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

OOC NOTES

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

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

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

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

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

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Comments

[setthetone]

[It's time for another round of what would Benton do. Carter tries to conjure up his mentor, tries to visualize him, sends out all his questions and struggles into the ether while trying to imagine his stern, grouchy replies. But what comes to him instead is Will Graham's gentle prod at the library after he voiced his guilt over Eliot dying because of him. Don't make it about you.

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

[likeknives]

[He gets it. There's a pause, a brief look over his shoulder at Hardison turning around.

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'.

[setthetone]

[Wasn't anythin'.

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.]

[ofthegeek]

[ Hardison is turned around and back in range by the tail end of "vitals". It was just about in motion already with how Eliot was sounding, gamble on whether or not the blanket would be pulled back up yet be damned, but the extra incentive isn't awful.

Vitals.

It's better to focus on than lacerations, than the hard 1 + 1 that makes with the reddish street river that they walked through getting here.

He sits down next to Eliot, still tense, complete with the awkward limb-folding of someone trying to balance being close with not being on top of someone. Or in the way of this impromptu checkup. He watches Carter do his thing with a sharp focus that he doesn't bother trying to be chill about. Shoots Eliot the occasional worried glance, which he's mostly just incapable of being chill about at this point.

Eliot's historically gone more 'miss me with that professional medical care' than anything, but maybe the extenuating circumstances and opposite of a hospital setting will net him a higher tolerance for it.

Hardison can't say that he isn't hoping that's the case, or that he minds getting the second opinion. Which is a very light way of putting that he's so grateful for Carter right now that it aches. ]

Eliot. If you've been hiding that you've always had a third lung and this is how I learn about it, I swear I'm gonna hit you, man.

[ Definitely strained. It doesn't make it properly off the launchpad because that would require not looking worried or, you know, sounding strained. He's trying very hard nonetheless. It's the best semi-normal foothold that Hardison can put together to offer Eliot on the fly. ]

[likeknives]

[He sits.

He hates hospitals, hates being tended to medically, but some things were necessary. This kinda felt like one of them. He doesn't protest, and maybe that shows how bad off he is because he just...lets Carter do this.

Maybe it's because he needs this.

This proves that he's alive and maybe his problem is that a large part of his mind is not really sure that he actually is.

He's taking his vitals. He's alive.

He's got a pulse. The stethoscope is real. The touches are real, grounded. Here and now. Reality.

His breathing slows, just a bit.]

All right.

[He's here, he's breathing.

Hardison's here.

Hardison's next to him and that's just as grounding, to the here and now. Reality. It helps, so much. He won't just disappear into nothingness, he can't, because Hardison is here.

And that's an awkward joke and it's so very Hardison and endearing that it almost tears his soul right to bits, because he's here and Hardison's here and he's alive. Somehow. He's not buried in the snow, he's right here. And Hardison is trying hard and this is completely out of his depth and he turns to him, for a moment, wishing he could save him from all of this pain. From having to see his dead body. Having Hardison to worry about brings him back to himself like nothing else, a spark coming back to his eyes.

Grounded. Reality.]

The military issues four. It's a special forces thing.

[setthetone]

[Carter snorts at the joke, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.]

That's convenient. All right, in. Hold it.

[It's not all for show. Maybe a part of Carter, too, needs this proof. That somehow, there are two of them now. That Eliot is back and not a bloody heap in the street he stumbles upon in the morning.

He listens to his heart, to his lungs, moving the stethoscope slowly, systematically. Grounded. Reality.]

And out.

[He repeats that a couple of times, checks his pupils, takes his temperature. Eliot's breathing seems to slow and that's good, it's helping. Hardison is helping.]

Military's not stingy on their material. As far as I can tell it's in prime working condition.

[ofthegeek]

[ There he is. More present. Even a bit of that comes as a relief. Hardison gives Eliot half a grin, and a light elbow to the ribs mostly for the sake of doing it. Quick point of contact, reassurance.

There's a hierarchy of what he considers most in need of worrying about, and Eliot's topping the charts in a big way, but he can admit the last bit might be for the sake of his own reassurance, too. Another notch in the here-we-are evidence belt for Eliot, sure. Not a bad notch for the Hardison belt, which is historically a little more solidly built with being tactile in mind. (He misses Parker as a rule of thumb. Constantly. It's like background noise. And he wouldn't want her right here, strictly speaking, wouldn't want her to have to join the club of things that can't be unseen or unfelt.

It would be really nice to hold one of her tiny, cold, iron-grip hands right now, though.)

Eliot's here and Eliot's Eliot. Ticking all the boxes on being here, Eliot, and alive. Pulse, pupils, hearbeat, all of that.

It's rare that Hardison can think of a situation where they need more than just that from him, back home. ]

Professional-grade medical opinion. [ The look he shoots Carter is full-blast, unfiltered gratitude. Relief for good measure. There are a lot of different ways to try to hobble through something like this.

He's pretty sure having Carter here has made it ten times less awful than it could be, on value. Right now specifically, but just in general. ] Next time we have to dig around in some dusty archive room, you and your redundant-ass government lungs are cleared.

[likeknives]

[He almost wants to laugh at the both of them taking his joke and running with it. There's not exactly a smile, but there's a upturn in his eyes, a spark that becomes just that much more brighter. At least he's amused on the inside?

He didn't think amused would even be possible after what just happened.

He knows that things won't be right for a long time, with him. That this thing is gonna haunt him for the rest of his days, become yet another layer in the nightmares he never tells anyone about.

But there are good things too and good things, he thinks, will always beat out the bad.]

I'm fine.

[It's almost irritable, at Carter, which is because irritable is his default state of being, a sign of things getting better. If there's really nothing wrong with him then he's good and alive and he's back. He elbows Hardison back.]

Me and my redundant government lungs are fine. I'm good now.