villagelogs | 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 follows close behind, smiling a little at the mini light-show as she does nothing more than wave her hand. Like it's simple, easy and thoughtless as breathing. It was cool, even if he was from a family of overpowered children.

He nods and sits down on the couch, watching as she whisks away into the kitchen for who-knows-what. "Uh- I don't know not visions or anything, just..." How does he explain it. "I don't know how to... it's just this feeling I have. In- in my head, in my chest, like....spiderwebs crawling through my veins."

Some things remained easy, simple. Flicking on a power that rings and hums like a current of lightning, barely needing to push her chaos further than a small nudge. Some things remained difficult, some things even impossible.

She returns with a small bowl of spices, and she perches herself on the coffee table in front of him. Curses came in so many forms. And yet, as she took a little more time to cast out her magic, it didn't give any familiar signs of warning.

She speaks a word, and slow smoke starts coiling lazily from the spices - smells faintly of incense, of cinnamon and bark and lavender.

"Give me your hands," is the next instruction she gives, palms upturned in front of her.

The idea of magic is, well, fantastical to him, still. So he might be... easily awed by what she does, and can do. Whatever she's thrown together in that bowl smells good, by his summation, the cinnamon and lavender the only instantly recognizable parts to him.

He offers her both hands, turned palms up. "What do you... look for, exactly?" He doesn't know if it's so easy to explain, but he's bad at silences.

Her fingers curl briefly around his hands, thumbs pressing into his pulse.

Magic is fantastical to many people here - but not many had sought her out for it regardless. She can't deny its a good excuse for idle hands. The smoke curls from the bowl, and her eyes flick to it, as if she's watching for it to tell her something.

At his question, her nose wrinkles as she frowns. "It's a long list." Her bedside manner has always been terrible, unfortunately, attention half split between him and actually looking.

"There's different tells for different curses, and you seem to have none of them." Her hands release him, and she straightens up, smoothes out her skirt. "Certainly no cobwebs in your veins."

"The Hunt took you, and you returned from a place most people don't," she shrugs, rising from her perch, lips pursed. Resurrection was, simply, not something many attempted. Let alone succeeded in. "It's unrealistic to expect to come back from that unscathed." And by the look of his scars, that statement holds truer than most.

A beat - "do you wish to keep your scars?" Yennefer of Vengerberg has never been accused of being kind, but perhaps it is a kindness she still offers.

He tries his best not to move as she works, her fingers against his pulse points.

Still a better bedside manner than his father, so Klaus is unphased by hers. It was a fair enough answer, especially since he had no reference for anything she might have listed anyway.

"Oh..." he sounds surprised, uncertain what to do with that information; it's always jarring to get the opposite from the answer you were expecting about something. "well, that's good, then." He nods a little, fingers fidgeting idly in his lap for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself.

He laughs a little, the high pitched tittering sound of someone used to laughing at their own trauma. "Oh, I live half-way between the living and the dead all the time anyway."

Subconsciously, his hand slides up to the side of his neck where the scar peeks out from under the collar. "Um.. can- can you really make it go away?" Or would this godforsaken town wreck whatever she did so he would just be forced to swallow down the sharp bitter taste of useless hope instead?

It isn't what he wants to hear, which is an obvious enough observation. It's always easier to hope for a clean answer, because that means there is a clean solution.

Funny how life tends to be the opposite - a veritable mess.

There is a chance, of course, that her magic isn't enough. That her limitations are cut more than even she knows. Or maybe — "Of course, it could mean that it isn't a curse I know," she sighs, passes a hand over the smoking bowl to extinguish the heat. "It wouldn't be the first time this place fucked with things it shouldn't. Still, take heart that there's nothing lingering for me to find. Where I'm from, these things are far from pleasant." There's worse things than paranoia. You could be cursed into an unrecognizable deformity...

She makes a noise of recollection, at this mention of a line between life and death, and regards him again: "Ah - right. You're the necromancer." As advertised from the town hall meeting. "Not a common talent." Actually, taboo, but she's the last to judge that.

Her gaze flicks back to the marks on his neck. "After a few sessions, likely so, yes. I think so."

If anyone is used to life turning into a bigger mess than it started out to be, it's a Hargreeves.

"This place is weird and crazy enough, I wouldn't doubt it." It messes with everything, why not the very makeup of her magic, too. He nods a little, "Yeah, don't wanna be cursed, just-" he shrugs and fidgets again. "I dunno. Everything just feels...wrong." But maybe she's right. Maybe it's because of the way deaths and resurrections happen here.

"Let me think about it... I'll get back to you about it." The superficial part of him wants to leap at the opportunity, but between scars he collected during the Umbrella Academy days, personally afflicted things through the years, and his tattoos, Klaus has a sort of relationship with marks on his body.

037-040 » the reason for time

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