villagelogs | 059-061 » the place where you stop the story

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059-061 » the place where you stop the story

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern Mathias
WHEN: Day 059-061
WHAT: Time returns to "normal" and Mathias grants a reprieve.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted the weekend of ~~May 15th~~ May 22nd.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Nathan Johnson "Foul Play"

DAY 059-061
A BRIEF REPRIEVE
“There is no real ending. It’s just
the place where you stop the story.”
— Frank Herbert
Residents awake to a peaceful morning with the sun shining and earth remaining still. There is no unsettling shaking to rouse them at dawn, and time has continued moving onward as they slept. Whatever state they were in the night before, they remain that way now, for good or for bad.

On the surface, there seems to be little lasting effect on the tiny town from that strange series of days, save for the memories of any traumatic experiences residents may have faced — but there are always consequences within Mathias. The perpetrators of acts against the town are tormented by nightmares of those acts being used against them, and those who did not raise a hand to stop those acts of destruction may yet face consequences of their own. For now, however, the unwilling townspeople should do their best to rest and recover from the disturbing ordeals of late, for this reprieve from the madness shall surely be shortlived.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's a bit chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. They may even find some alcohol within — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE HISTORY MUSEUM has not fared well with the return of "normal" time. The once esteemed wooden building is now a charred ruin, the recent fire leaving behind little of the contents within for study. The structure is unstable and it is not wise to venture into the ruins for long.

— THE WEATHER conditions remain fairly typical for early fall: warm days and cool nights. It feels almost like spring arriving except that there fewer red and orange leaves on the ground and more of them oddly returning to the trees and slowly fading to green. It's like watching one of those nature documentaries that have a timelapse of the seasons, only it's going in reverse.

— THE FOG has retreated from some areas!
— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated farther into the western section of town, now stretching across town between Stine Road and Shelley Drive. This has revealed the Chasm in the earth that stretches from one side of town to the other between Stine and Hill Lane.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DEATHS & DISAPPEARANCES continue! Max Guevara has vanished into the fog. Claire Novak's body can be spotted on Day 059 facedown at the bottom of the Chasm between Hill and Stine, near Phillips Drive; by the morning of Day 060, her body will be gone. (Attempts may be made to reach her body but will likely not end well for those involved. Such attempts should be reported under Exploration.)

— ALCOHOL is still in Mathias! Just barely. (Supply is running very low after recent town events.) 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 was also restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. (Alcohol does not replenish as food does.)

OOC NOTES

— PROJECT HELP Your mod needs help with some projects!

— FUTURE PLANNING If you haven't, please answer the questions here for future log planning. I will almost definitely need some of these answers for the log going up the weekend of May 15, so act quickly! Late submissions will not be considered for that log.

— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made.

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

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Doctor. She noted that he still opted for her title over her name. It didn't seem like he was particularly deferring for some reason. Not out of some misplaced respect for those who went further in school, at least. It's probably one of those Southern things. Everyone's 'ma'am' or 'sir' until they prove themselves to be outright assholes. She wouldn't read anything into it right now.

Caitlin tucked her hands into the pockets of her shorts, for lack of anything better to do with them at the moment. "I don't mind at all, Mr. Givens. I don't really see why anyone would, especially with all the cliches about doctors." He'd probably heard a few: god complexes, overconfidence, lack of bedside manners and interest in social niceties. Most of those applied to surgeons, really.

"I've got a Ph.D. in Biochemistry, doctorates in Bio-Engineering and Medicine. Up until about six years ago, I was focused on research. But I've been something of a personal physician to a small group of people. Intensive care, emergency medicine, neurology. General surgery. I even recently delivered a baby for the first time since medical school."

It had only been to focus on the title for a minute - they weren't in court or on a case, he could go with something less professional. After all, he didn't expect her to call him Deputy Marshal. Even if he'd instructed the Darkling to do so. He was a different story.

Raylan smiled crookedly at 'Mr. Givens' and nodded at her elaboration. "Technically, it's US Deputy Marshal Givens, but I think we can settle on Raylan, if I can call you Catlin. That's an impressive list. A useful one too, not that we're doin' a lot of bio-engineering. But we do have a recent mother here, might appreciate a doctor that's.." Well. Female.

"Hopefully we don't have to put too many of those skills to use. You look less freaked out than the rest of 'em, how long you been in Mathis?"

A US Deputy Marshal. Maybe she'd have come to some law enforcement feeling from him later on, but she wouldn't have guessed that herself right away. She'd spent plenty of time around Joe, but Joe had come to give her more family vibes than Detective vibes rather quickly. And there was A.R.G.U.S., they were federal level, but... those she knew were friends. It didn't really matter, she supposed. It was nice to know there was someone with some law enforcement experience around here.

She nodded at that, though. Raylan, Caitlin. Much better. Her eyes did go a bit wide when he mentions a recent mother. She hoped that mother and child weren't separated by coming here, but she didn't exactly like the idea of a baby trapped here with them. She'd have to hold her tongue on asking about that in a bit.

"I, uh. I woke up wet and sandy and cold on the beach this morning? I don't have much experience in waking up in strange places, especially not someplace that seems to be over a thousand miles away from home. But..." She shrugged again, turning her hands out from her pockets. "I do have experience with strange. Though this is testing that."

"We love you, Malcolm Bright. In case you were doubting it." Raylan's head ducked a little for the kiss on his fingers, wishing he could drawn Malcolm in and put several kisses into that blond hair of his.

"Knowin' you're okay is what I need. Knowin' you're all okay is my top priority here. Once I've verified that, I can look to handlin' other things."

"I have more... affection around me here than I've ever had around me in my life," he told Raylan. "If I have to go back home alone... it's going to be harder than it was."

[ On the face of it, that's not the most reassuring thing in the world he could have said, but Parker relaxes anyway. As long as they're not in imminent danger of coming face to face with a ghost right now, it's okay. The rest, they'll deal with later. ]

Have you seen any ghosts here?

Raylan had to. Needed to. Needed to understand this person that was walking around the world wearing his face and being so very drastically different from him. The weirdness hadn't ebbed. He wasn't sure if it would, honestly.

His eyebrows lifted a little at the admission. He'd been right about something and Tim was willing to give it air? Where was his pearls.

"Yeah? I'd ask what you were doin' there but I'm sure it was bein' up to no good. What'd you find?" Feed the Puzzle, Tim.

Raylan clucked. "As much as you care about people? C'mon. You'd be great. Shapin' a little person, cognizant of what they should and shouldn't be aware of at that age. You're too sweet to not be good with kids, I'm sure." His lips curled a little more.

"You know.. If you and I do come from the same world.. With Willa and all. She's.. It's a package deal." He knew he was betting against himself. He knew there was no way they were from the same world; Malcolm was right about Raylan around the whole topic. His balloon had been burst and now he couldn't reinflate it.

"Think you'd be able to handle that? That and an ex-wife?"

"I am going to ignore that like the proper adult I am," Tim said in his uniquely prissy tone. "But you might want to start checking your boots for LEGOs."

Would he be so dastardly? It was all together possible and now Raylan would have to worry about it.

"Mostly? A lot of disorganized clutter that I tried to sort," he groused before exhaling a deep breath and sitting forward with a more intense expression on his face. "Second night I was there, there were these like low quality weekly newsletters. Real amature stuff but they did give a good run down of things going on in Mathias. I was able to find and sort them by date, starting in the 1960s and going through the 80s, when they suddenly stopped."

Steepling his fingers and then releasing them Tim began to gesture gracefully, as he tended to do when working a case.

"I went back over that last issue and there was a note from the editor explaining that this would be the last issue. That he'd been invited to an upcoming rite at the Lodge. I read that article more than a few times but the word use, punctuation, everything about it suggested the writer was proud, even excited about the invitation."

Most people did, especially if they saw him taking command of a situation but there weren't many situations to take charge of here and a stunning lack of Bad Guys to annoy. Almost a shame, really, outside of the fact that they really did need to focus on surviving this place. Somethings had to be laid at the wayside, for a little while.

"Well hold onto that experience. This place is a ride and half with Weird for Days. Which is why I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but anyone bein' here isn't a pleasure for them." He nodded again, glancing away towards the town almost bitterly before bringing hazel eyes back to her.

"Mathis seems to like the idea of washin' people up like we're marooned. That's how the first batch of us came too. It's shit, I know."

Malcolm hadn’t ruled it out, he and Raylan coming from the same world. It was possible. To hear Raylan even breathe the possibility lit something in his eyes as he looked up at him. He felt like he was holding something sacred and he was afraid to breathe or he might break it.

At the same time, Doc’s words still lingered in a corner of his mind. Maybe he figured the two of you can handle the scorn, a few threats, name-calling, unnecessary commentary, being pariahs. But his kid sure as hell can't. You can't ever be seen, with Raylan, in public, in Kentucky. Do you really think he thought that one out when he said he wanted you there?

“I could be part of your daughter’s life? You’d want that?” The part of his life Malcolm would be in and the part with his daughter and his job and his ex-wife. Together.

But where was he gonna fit you, between spending his nights sitting in his car outside a wanted man's house, arguing with his ex-not-ex-woman... thing, raising his kid, getting shot at, going back to the inn he's living out of where he can't refit the bed to suit what you'd need, probably drinking whiskey out of a plastic cup, waiting for the phone to ring to listen to someone else's voice? Where did you think you'd fit into all that?

“There’d be... space for me there?”

"Because of a deal our Dad broke with him. He was set on ruining all of us. To hurt him." She shakes her head. "It was a mess of different things happening all at once, and things lined up just right and he thought he could just... get away with everything..." There's an irritation in her voice at the thought of it. Endicott had been so snide, so sure of himself.

He got what he deserved.

She shakes her head to dispel the thought, not entirely sure where it came from, and focuses her attention back on what Neal's doing. She's supposed to be learning, here.

A decade by a year or more was enough to note the differences but with Tim it didn't matter. Tim was older than he had any right to be mentally and that got him a lot of ground. There was nothing for him to prove - he'd already proved everything he needed to by still being here, still fighting.

"You really think we can do that? That we can convince anyone else to overcome the instinct that sits in all of us?" He glared down at the ground for a second. "We could make a social push for it. Shit like that work here. Especially with our connections. But. If we could get enough of us to strap it down.." He looked back up.

"You've already suffered a death here. With all you got on your plate. You think you could do that? Suffer another one without givin' into the fear?" Because Raylan wasn't sure he could. The two he'd gone through was more than enough.

This conversation is really traveling places.

"No," to the wizard-assumptions.

Then flipping a glance at Malcolm, "I don't psychoanalyze anyth--"

His hands go up in a sort of surrendering gesture, which gives her a perfect view of his 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' palm tattoos. "Nonono, not zombies. I see the dead. Not the living-dead, the dead-dead, the-- ghosts, I'm a medium. But like...the real thing, not the shams you see on TV."

A beat.

"But it doesn't work here. Something about the town blocks my powers. It does that for all of us, with them."

"You already know that if our worlds are the same, both Neal and I are gonna come lookin' for you, right? And if it's not.." Raylan set his thumb to brushing back and forth over Malcolm's. "Maybe you can carry us with you. Remember that people can love ya. That you're worth it."

[I missed this! But ahhh yes, I approve of this plan!]

"Well, I grew up as a childstar superhero, so I'm probably more qualified for a daily life that's weird to most, than- well- most people." He nods, very matter-of-factly.

These specific people, surprisingly, did love him. These people from possibly another dimension, even though they've seen him at his worst.

He wasn't sure it would cross over to the place he's always existed, just outside of everything. But Raylan's quiet confidence in his worth made it seem... like maybe it could be possible.

"It'll... it'll be better if you guys are there," he admitted. "But I'll try to remember."

Doc can't help that little chuckle. Gardening. He'd have better luck teaching Wynonna to sew.

"She ain't Wyatt, and I would rather she not kill Yennefer's tomatoes. But I shall keep that in mind, if there's anything safe for her to be sticking her hands into." Raylan is right insofar as them needing to find her something to keep herself busy with. Otherwise she'll be getting up to no good, or getting up in other peoples' business.

"Not sure we can be anonymous here. We all know each other. And there's no recovering from some old demonic curse." Doc deliberately drops the other A word. Because half the people here struggle with doing alcohol consumption in moderation and they aren't drinking too much the way everyone used to drink too much so he's not really seeing the problem. Not to mention that, honestly? Doc doesn't think Wynonna can count to twelve, but he's not going to throw shade upon her to Raylan.

He puts his cigarette butt out, swivelling his foot over it and disposes of it carelessly.

"Well I'm all outta excuses to linger. Can I bring you a sandwich or should I just go back in and flirt with Jeff?"

"Very dangerous threat, deadly even," Raylan replied in faux seriousness, nodding his head but the curl of his lips around the edges twitched a bit. Oh, he fully believed that Tim would resort to it, given the right motivation.

As Tim spoke, Raylan's brow took a more genuine pinch, the steady inward curl of his features as he considered all of it with what he already knew.

"They didn't replace him? Maybe he was collectin' too much information," he muttered at the last words, leaning forwards with nudge of his hat back on his head. "Followin' what we were talkin' about earlier today.. If it was an honor. Bet a dollar he got given up to whatever was running this place.. The 80's really isn't that far from when the town stopped. Puts a crack in the idea that the tradition of it was lost.."

Cracks were a good thing, he wanted people to poke holes in it, suggest what made sense to them, things that his brain might never circle around to thinking about. Many hands made this work lighter.

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, nodding again. "It's more than we had before. I'd be interested in seein' those newsletters. Just to get a feel for the place when it was alive."

"Pollyanna I am not," Tim said and he deliberately kept his voice soft rather than allow the sharpness that usually edged his words to creep in. It was just he and Raylan here at the moment and Tim understood that Raylan could use a little softness outside the bedroom. "But it might be worth putting the suggestion out there. Give people the opportunity to mull it over. They might come around."

It would take time but honestly, time was something they seemed to have in abundance. Then Raylan asked that question and Tim pursed his lips, glancing around automatically to confirm there were no ears about.

"I've lived with the notion that each morning I wake up, I may be dead by the end of my day," first in the Army and now with the Marshal Service. "My dying doesn't bother me. I'm gonna have a harder time wrestling with the emotions of failing to keep you safe and sound." The first time Mathias killed Raylan in front of Tim? The town was going to be lucky to remain standing.

Tim sucked a tooth and turned to pick up his shovel. "Shit, I'm more scared of what will happen to you if Malcolm gets killed."

It was in his bag of tricks! Though it would probably require a much more egregious transgression on the older marshal's part before Tim resorted to such diabolical revenge.

At the question Tim shook his head. "Going back over the newsletters I think this was a one man show but it'd be good for you to take a second look." That was simply solid law enforcement work and part of what a partner was there to provide. A second set of eyes, a second point of view. "Even if he got given up? It's weird Raylan, that final issue and his letter to his readers. It reads like a man who knows he isn't coming back. He's saying his goodbyes."

Tim sat and the far off stare in his eyes suggested he was mentally re-reading the newsletters.

"I got the impression he knew he wasn't coming back," yes he repeated himself there. "But he believed it was a good thing. Whether that proved to be the case?" The younger marshal could only shrug.

Idle hands were the Devil's tool as they said. Wynonna looked like the kinda woman who caused trouble when her hands were idle, though what kind of trouble that would be was to be seen... Couldn't be worse than starting a burn across town, could it?

"Can't be endangerin' the tomatoes, that's true." He was waiting for one ripe enough to snag and eat like an apple.

Raylan still didn't wholly understand the curse thing, despite it being explained to him (The gun was the missing bit, he just hadn't gotten around to asking about that yet), but they had plenty of time to dig into it. Plenty of porch nights, plenty of random dinners where everyone was pulled over. He could be patient.

But he chuckled at the teasing threat. "If I ask for the sandwich, does that effect you flirtin' with my facetwin?" He would teasingly ask if he should be worried, if they were something that was acknowledged in the open air, but it would strike a little too close to home. "I'm fine," he said, relenting with a grin. "Already ate.. even though it had to involve an argument with Callisto to get it done. Go on, make Jeff's night. Man deserves a little good for bein dragged here in the first place."

"Childstar... superhero?" Her tone and her wide eyes probably show her confusion and struggling belief. Children superheroes. Sure. That's probably something that would happen. Nora has Barry's powers, so it would stand to reason that other metas would pass their altered genetics and abilities down.

She blinks and clears her throat, stirring her coffee. "You have powers?"

"I think you'd look cute in pigtails," Raylan halfheartedly teased, trying to pull a little levity into it all, enough to buoy them out of the darkness for a half second before they inevitably got pulled back under. Raylan had never been a prisoner before and while he'd argued the idea in the early days of being here, they were past 3 months and the few blocks of space they got were prison enough.

He nodded. They'd start the whisper campaign. Soft power games weren't his favorite, but he could play them just as expertly as the rest of the social games demanded. As he listened to the rest of the answer, he realized how stupid a question it had been to pose to Tim, specifically. Mainly because they shared the same mind on it. Raylan would have answered much the same way if he'd been asked. He needed to get his shit together.

And then Tim goes and says that.

"Only calculated risks," he echoed the sentiment of the other night like it would remind them both of what they had promised. Grief was a terrible, heavy thing. "It's not the him gettin' killed part that is worrisome. If we come back, there's hope. If he doesn't.." If they were properly gone, then he would have to accept their death as just that.

Raylan shook his head and took a deep breath before following Tim's que and picking up his own shovel.

"Both my deaths, nothin' no one coulda done about them. Better to remember and deal with that now. We weren't doin' anythin' more than having a cup of coffee on the porch and shootin' the shit. A bit of sense on our neckhairs but nothin' outta the ordinary for a quiet night..." He hefted and slammed his shovel into the dirt to break it loose harder than strictly necessary. "Til it wasn't quiet anymore."

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