059-061 » the place where you stop the story

[villagemod]

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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Comments

[walkingtrigger]

Tim's casual expression didn't change, dark blue eyes no more than still water. After a beat he pursed his lips and gave a small jump of his eyebrows.

"I'll take your word for it," he responded with little to no inflection in his tone to suggest that he felt anything towards the idea that Raylan had been upset. Tim recognized that he was coming off as a first class asshole, but he'd worn that label for so long that he rarely allowed it to keep him from keeping his secrets.

[abrightboy]

“He didn’t indicate that to you?” Malcolm clarified. “I thought you guys must have talked after your shoving match on the porch. He didn’t come home straight away,” he remarked. But he let it go at that, gesturing around. “Find anything interesting out there?”

[walkingtrigger]

There was a brief pinch of emotion that made Tim want to keep talking about that morning. That wanted to build a fence of misdirection around those events so that Malcolm would never find it interesting enough to ask about in the future.

But the other man gave the young sniper the out he needed with the change of topic. Tim stepped into that new stream of conversation and covered any sense of relief beneath decades old armor.

"No," he answered, glancing down the next path in his careful grid searching. "Of course it doesn't help that I have no idea what I might be trying to find, beyond the obvious." Indicators of animals, more tunnels, a giant neon sign that said Thank you for visiting Mathias, we hope to see you back real soon! above a road leading out of here.

[abrightboy]

“If we find something important, I don’t think it’s ever going to be obvious. This place is constructed like an animal enclosure at the zoo. A very good approximation of our natural habitat. The doors and perimeter will be well camouflaged. I think the tunnels are involved in how they manipulate the town,” Malcolm noted.

[walkingtrigger]

"This doesn't feel like a construction," Tim said, not to be a shit but in a pensive tone. "More like something decided to settle here for its own purposes and this town has been trying to survive its uninvited guest."

Tim turned back towards the north east, in the direction of the lighthouse. His expression was pensive.

"I think it goes beyond the tunnels, though that is probably where it first took root."

[abrightboy]

"The main thing that makes me think it's artificial is that the town is weirdly clean of things that should be ubiquitous. People in a hurry to leave or busy being slaughtered wouldn't have time to remove every single sharp blade. Everything that can be used as a weapon. Every prescription pill from every medicine cabinet and bedside table in the entire place. It makes more sense that they weren't removed but were, in fact, never included," he pointed out.

[walkingtrigger]

Tim turned back towards Malcolm, taking a moment to consider his words.

"Might try turning that around," he suggested. "One of the first lessons the VA psych department drills into us is the importance of securing our weapons if we find ourselves having trouble with our sense of what is real around us. People here may have pitched their weapons, their pills in an effort to protect themselves from themselves."

He gestured back to the Lighthouse. "There's a mural up there, reminds me of a bit of short fiction I read once, three lobed eye monstrosity. It's got what look like hash marks around it, like maybe someone was trying to track ... instances of exposure?"

[abrightboy]

"If they threw everything into the sea, maybe we can find it. Metal implements aren't going to float that far away," Malcolm countered. "But I doubt they had your training, regular people - they would have kept their weapons close if they felt threatened." At the description of the mural, Malcolm raised his chin, recognition in his eyes. "I saw a mural like that underground."

[walkingtrigger]

The young sniper had a counter argument for that but at the moment he did not feel it was beneficial to engage in it at this time. Particularly not when Malcolm mentioned a mural underground.

"Which tunnel?"

[abrightboy]

"If you go East from the trap door under 1307, you can only go one way. It comes to a dead end at a mural like that." A beat. "Raylan doesn't like anyone going in the tunnels alone. You should take someone with you if you go to see it."

[walkingtrigger]

"Raylan is my co-worker, not my boss." The words were out before Tim could settle his hackles.

Peaceability was still a work in progress.

Because before that comment at the end, Tim had been gearing up to suggest that they both make a trip to the underground mural and the Lighthouse.

[abrightboy]

“He’s nobody’s boss here; he’s just trying to look out for everyone because he cares,” Malcolm informed him mildly. “I went east because I thought the tunnel might lead to the lighthouse but it doesn’t. Not from the network that goes under the houses.”

[walkingtrigger]

"And part of my job back home is looking out after him. So let's just leave it at I can and will take care of myself."

Which wasn't to suggest that he was doing backflips of joy at the idea of going back into those tunnels, particularly alone. But now Malcolm has gone and made it a moral imperative.

"Well, gives me a place to start. Thank you."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm took his phone out of his pocket.

“I have a picture of it,” he said, waggling it. “If you’d like to save yourself the walk. Unless it was a point making walk.”

[walkingtrigger]

"Thank you anyway, but I like to put in my own legwork," Tim explained and it was not a lie. He didn't doubt that the picture was thorough, but he wanted to stand there and make a careful study of not only the mural but the space around it.

And it was a point making walk as well.

[abrightboy]

“There was a gate in the other direction with an unpickable lock,” Malcolm told him, tucking his phone away. “I’ve heard of two such gates now. There are probably more.”

[walkingtrigger]

The mention of the locked gates jogged Tim's memory of the last time he'd been down in the tunnels. Only so much as to make him wince, inwardly, at Raylan's reaction if he went down on his own again.

Part of Tim was saying fuck it. Raylan was not his nanny and he would go where he damn well pleased, when he damn well pleased. But it would be a lie to try to claim something hadn't changed after their afternoon together. Tim found the mental voice yelling at him to be more protective of the older marshal's emotions, was out shouting the urge to be stubborn.

With the additional noises coming from his genuine intention to make peace with Malcolm.

The smart thing to do would be to turn back and look at the damn picture on the phone. But lawman instincts wanted the whole experience, not a sanitized one. He looked at Malcolm expectantly.

"Coming with?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shrugged. “Sure,” he said, hopping down off the rock. “We have to stop at 1306. We need some supplies,” he cautioned. “Tunnel supplies.”

[walkingtrigger]

Tim had no idea what constituted 'tunnel supplies' beyond a lantern, but he made an agreeable grunting noise and began to pick his way back along the path. His steps were silent across the forest floor, though he did not appear to be making any particular effort to be quiet.

Unless Malcolm broke the silence, they were making the trek back to 1306 without a word spoken. Once at the house Tim stopped with one foot on the stairs up to the porch and made a go forth and supply gesture with his hand.

[abrightboy]

On the silent walk back, Malcolm studied the Marshal out the corner of his vision. His manner, his gait, his facial expression.

At the house, he slipped past Tim and through the front door, then led him into the garage, picking up a ladder and a kerosene lantern kept next to each other. He checked the fuel supply, then tilted his head towards the door to lead the way across the street.

Once in 1307, he led Tim to a corner of the living room and pulled a trap door open, lowering the ladder into the dark.

“Batteries die fast down there,” he advised, holding the lantern out to Tim. “This lasts longer.”

[walkingtrigger]

Everything about Tim, from his manner, gait and resting bitch face, screamed of a man who was always on guard and ready to respond to a situation going south. It was not paranoia exactly, Tim's head wasn't on a swivel looking all around, but rather a hard learned sense of awareness. The ability to take even the most minute of cues, such as a shift in the air and be responding to it before his conscious mind caught up with his actions.

The younger marshal would offer to carry the ladder, handing it back once they got to the house and began to head for the trap door. He'd been here a number of mornings, helping Athena out of the hole beneath the floorboard, though he had never gone down more than a few steps himself.

Tim took the lantern with a jog of his eyebrows, acknowledgement of Malcolm's point. Then he began to work his way down the ladder, shifting aside immediately to make room for the smaller profiler.

As his movement took him deeper from the trapdoor, Tim felt an icy cold finger brush its way down his spine. He took a couple of deliberately deep breaths and pushed himself to move further down the tunnel, refusing to even acknowledge his lizard brain's soft screams to go back to the ladder and out.

"You said east, right?" He spoke, purposefully to distract himself. He already knew the answer.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nodded, taking the ladder down from the hole and tucking it under his arm to follow Tim. “I’ve been making a map,” he explained as they walked. “Just of the places I’ve been so far.”

cw: War - graphic

[walkingtrigger]

"Right," Tim acknowledged Malcolm's comment though he felt as if the other man was speaking from a great distance.

The younger marshal owned up to his struggles with PTSD. He made a joke out of it as a way to protect himself and threw himself into the job and a bottle to help distract himself. So far he'd done a good job of keeping actual flashbacks at bay. Which was why he did not immediately alert on the way his heart rate was increasing, until it felt like that organ was in the base of his throat.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear the non-existent lump in his throat, but suddenly all he could smell was the metallic tang of blood. The smell of blood mixed with the hot dust, and musty scent of unwashed bodies from Taliban caves, throwing his brain further into the flashback. The smell of shit, urine, grey matter joined the cocktail and Tim stopped.

Part of his mind tried to drag him back to the here and the now, while another part of his mind tried to logic out what the fuck was happening and why. They should go back.

Are you brain damaged recruit? The moment you want to turn back is precisely the moment you go forward. The hard screaming voice of his instructors at Benning and beyond, echoed in his skull, further displacing his ability to sort one realty from another.

Turn off that goddamn light you maggot! You're going to get your spotter killed!

Tim scrambled with the lantern, quickly dousing the light and plunging them both into darkness.

"Take this fucking thing," he hissed at Malcolm. "Keep it off, for fuck's sake."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watched Tim descend into psychosis like he was sinking into a hot bath and his stomach sank. When he pushed the lantern into Malcolm's hands in the dark, the ladder slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

"Tim... where are you right now?" he asked the pitch blackness.

[walkingtrigger]

Had he heard the question?

It might be hard to tell.

He wheeled at the sound of the ladder crashing into the rock beneath them. His hand shot out and provided Malcolm didn't dodge, the younger marshal was going to have the front of his shirt in his fist, pulling him close.

His voice was a tight, authoritative even though it was only a smidge above a hard whisper. "Goddamn it, Corporal. Make another noise, and I will kill you and leave you here for the Taliban to find!"