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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DAY 59 (Closed: Raylan)

[bardish]

Jeff probably cuts an odd figure as he wanders out of the Grey Gull: barefoot, clothes damp, cradling a guitar close to his chest like it's some precious, living thing to be protected at all costs. It's totally awkward; he really should just sling it over his shoulder, but the thought of letting go just starts him on a catastrophic spiral of what ifs.

What if a hooligan sneaks up from behind him and snatches the guitar off his back? If he was cradling it in his arms, that wouldn't have happened.

What if he's attacked by a bear and the only potential weapon he has is his guitar, but now it's on his back instead of in his hands, so he can't swing it in time to save himself from getting mauled by this rampaging animal?

What if the strap breaks and his guitar falls and one of the strings snap and he can't find another string and then he's lost in an empty town, possibly going crazy, and he can't even play a sick tune unless he fashions a new string out of, what, animal guts? Like they did in the old days? He doesn't have what it takes to kill an animal, let alone gut it and dig around for the best intestine, and even if he did, how could he get it to the right thickness without a ton of trial and error? Only a thousandth of an inch makes the difference between a B string from a high E, and there's no way he'd get that on his first try, so there'd be so much blood on his hands by the time--

Okay. He's spiraling again. Stop. Focus on the basics, the here and now of the situation. Right now he's: 1) lost in a strange, seemingly empty town, like everyone just up and left in the middle of a perfectly ordinary day, but 2) he's not alone, since there was another man in the Gull, so it stands to reason there could be others, and 3) he has no shoes and his clothes are wet, so he really needs to correct that before he can even think to explore the town and the surrounding area. The last thing he needs is to step on a nail and get tetanus, or, like, catch a small cold and then develop pneumonia from wandering around all wet.

Fuck, no, don't think about that! Jeff clutches his guitar even tighter, totally-not-hugging his totally-not-a-safety-blanket as he follows the road towards the Town Square. He looks wide eyed and a little dazed as he takes in his seemingly ordinary surroundings, his expression caught somewhere between confused tourist and terrified prey animal.

[tinstar]

It was shining sun. The day was warm, the roads had started to dry out and firm up (Probably oughta dig a few spare graves) and there was no reason for Raylan Givens to have such a dour, unintentionally firm expression on his face as he stalked in from his exploratory adventure from the chasm. Except all he could think about was how he was going to go call a young girl into something he likely had no business pulling her into but.. The Chasm needed to be crossed. He'd promised that she could help when the fog pushed back enough to let them, she knew the risks. Would resent the protection if she was told no.

Death was something they could deal with. If they had to. It was for a good cause... That would be a good enough reason, right?

He was lost in his thoughts, secure enough in the assurance for the day that Mathis wasn't going to fuck with him too hard to get lost in the easy stride that looked uneven from a distance but every land of his foot was right in line. It didn't put his head any less on a swivel, but it did let him glance at faces without automatically assuming they were going to be a threat.

So Raylan glanced, but the rough features and frame of the man coming towards him earned a doubletake as the cowboy rolled to a stop, hand propping on his hip, hazel eyes narrowed as he tried to determine what he was looking at. After a few seconds of deliberation, (The others haven't been around and we're not ass deep in fog, but that doesn't mean I'm not hallucinating. Is that a guitar?) Raylan lifted his chin and headed to intercept the man.

"You look-" Holy shit, exactly like he used to. Raylan's head pulled back a little in suspicion as he continued. He'd been polite enough to not poke the Darkling, but some dude wearing his face gave him rights some rights he might not have otherwise. A verification poke was going to have to come.

"Lost." He looked down, eyebrows lifting as he looked back up. "And barefoot."

[bardish]

Another person! Jeff stops in his tracks as the other man approaches, face lit up with hopeful anticipation, like maybe-- maybe!-- this guy is going to have every single answer he's looking for, and it's only a matter of time before Jeff's on his way home with a funny (if confusing and deeply unsettling) story for his daughter.

God. Mel...

He hopes she's home. He hopes she's safe and sound and not worrying about him. Her mom's in town for the next few months, so... They'll be okay. No matter what happens to him here, they've got each other. She'll be taken care of and-- what the fuck is that?

Jeff blinks as the man comes closer, as his own widened, hazel eyes take in a face that's-- that's--

"What?"

As if there was anything unclear about the man's remark, about hearing his own voice-- sort of, kind of, blended in some place far from California-- tell him he looks lost and barefoot. Which. Yeah. He is, right on both counts.

Jeff clutches his guitar even closer to his chest, as if that's possible, eyeing his own face with all the befuddled wariness of a dog staring down a mirror.

"What the what-- fuck-- I mean. Fuck! What the fuck! What--"

Each 'what' is a little more frantic and pitchy than the last. Give him a moment, his brain will reset soon.

"You're me," he says finally. "I mean. You're not me. That's a very egotistical assumption, I'm sorry, there's no reason to assume I own the rights to my face. Your... our... face....?"

[tinstar]

An answer! That was more than the Others which was.. simultaneously a good and bad thing. Raylan had gotten used to the idea that there could be a ghost wandering around with his face, but ghosts didn't hold conversations.. or Guitars. Yeah, the instrument was a sticking point - it looked weird against his own face.

Raylan's brow furrowed a little further as Jeff continued into his freak out. One 'What' wasn't enough to give his ear that Western Cali cadence. He almost marveled at the way Jeff existed there so uncannily. Good skill, put it on a resume. "Jesus, this is the weirdest shit."

You're me gets a distinct pinch of his brow, chin lowering a fraction but the expression eased and softened as Jeff stumbled into his explanation.

"I am not you. You... definitely are not me." Raylan ambled forward a few steps, each taken carefully before he could frown gently and poke at Jeff's arm. "You seem real enough. This time."

It was going to take a while to stop staring. Athena had told him about her mentor, about how fucking crazy he looked like Raylan, and with the man (possibly) standing here in front of him, he couldn't find much room to argue.

"I'mma make a real.. real weird jump here, you let me know if I'm too far of the mark," he starts, on hand gesturing with a few fingers out towards him as he spoke. "But I mighta been told there was someone walkin' around with this mug.. You wouldn't happen to be named Jeff, would ya?"

[bardish]

Jeff furrows his brow, watching his doppelgänger's finger as it pokes right into him, and it's only when they make contact and neither one of them explodes in some kind of sci-fi paradox that he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

The 'this time' remark has Jeff looking up again, meeting a face that's too similar to his, and different, too, in some ways. Scars from living a different life, a certain restraint that Jeff lacks, with his open and too-expressive face... Plus the accent. Southern, Appalachian? He's no good a pinning it down.

He's right. This is weird shit, and they're definitely not the same person, but there's something so achingly familiar about that sentiment. Real, this time.

Jeff's been there. His mouth pulls into a sympathetic wince, but he doesn't comment. Thankfully, he doesn't even get a chance to dwell on speculation before he's correctly identified out of the blue.

He blinks, a few too many times, trying to get the gears in his brain moving, caught somewhere between relief and trepidation, which is a really weird place to be, mentally, but then this is a weird fucking situation, so who can blame him for feeling a wave of contradicting emotions?

"Jeff!" he blurts out, seeming to settle on frantic excitement. "Yeah! That's me! Dude-- are you..."

Oh great, here it comes. He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice, as if that's even necessary.

"...my long lost brother? Is this a Parent Trap thing?"

[tinstar]

He could feel the eyes over his scars, something he'd had to get used to since the unfortunate enhancement of his face, but he knew better than to be bothered by it. The scars, like anything else that might be different about someone, had to be accepted and taken in stride. Otherwise, it opened doors for people to jab and twist their little petty knives. He wouldn't give the idea in his head any of the satisfaction.

It was more than surreal to see so much clear gear work and emotion moving across Jeff's face and it all just reinforced how little Raylan wanted to be that open. How terrifying that must be.

Raylan's eyes lifted, creased with amusement to match the soft faint curl of his lips as Jeff grasps onto his name like a crash victim trying to make sense of the world. Before he could say anything about it, Jeff was leaning in like they were sharing a deep secret.

'Parent Trap' cracked the smile into a grin and Raylan chuckled.

"Somehow I doubt that Arlo woulda let a twin outta the holler and this ain't no summer camp. You're at a bit of a disadvantage; that's my fault - I should apologize." Never mind that he didn't. "But instead, how's about we get you off the street and in front of a familar face, huh? Maybe even a drink, you and your nerves look like you could use it. Can't blame you. Thankfully, you're here at a time where our tub is full."

Though he fully expected moonshine to knock Jeff over - it wasn't that the man was... soft in a- okay it totally was. This was the weirdest shit ever. Why wouldn't Jeff be able to handle it like Raylan? How similar did their similarities go? So far it was mole for mole.

[bardish]

Okay, not a twin brother. At least, not as far as his lookalike figures it, but Jeff's going to just file that theory away for later. There's got to be some connection between the two of them. Identical twins in cool cowboy hats don't just happen out of nowhere!

But he smiles, at least, grateful to latch on to the offered lifeline from his twin-who-isn't-a-twin. God, even the way he grins is different from Jeff.

And he's tempted, he's so fucking tempted to take him up on that drink. Just a little something to take the edge off, bring him down, ground him a little. If ever there was a situation that called for a drink, waking up on a strange beach, finding himself in a ghost town, and running into a cowboy with his face had to warrant a fucking drink.

He takes a breath. No. Stick to the rules. It's important, now more than ever. One drink. Happy occasions only.

"I, ah... Wouldn't say no to a glass of water. And a rain check on something harder! Where to? Lead the way!" Wait. Jeff starts to take a step, then stops, waves a finger vaguely like he's trying to land on a point. "Hang on, wait, rewind. Familiar face? Like, another familiar face? Whoa... Are there three of us?"

[tinstar]

Wow. Trusting to a fault, it seemed. Happier than a pig in shit to be led somewhere. Raylan should probably blame, well. His face. It was good that Raylan was a good guy otherwise he could have swept poor Jeff off into god knows where without much of a fight. Or maybe Jeff would buck and reveal some secretly like him side that was tucked away under all the sunlight Jeff radiated.

"We got plenty of water," Raylan assured, unoffended by the raincheck request, though a flag for 'recovering alcoholic' went up. One that struck a little too close to home, so he opted to do the easy thing and ignore it.

"Ah," he started, chin lifting and falling with a faint nod at the question as a hand came up under Jeff's arm to gently herd him into action and movement back towards the way he'd come. "Thank god no. Least not that I'm aware of," he admitted with a slight pull back of his head and a pinch of his features.

"That bein' said, I didn't pull your name outta nowhere. A familiar face for you; to clarify," Raylan explained, hands shoving into his pockets as they got moving. "Once I get over how fuckin' weird this is, I'll be grateful that you're here. There's a mini-bomb sittin' in my upstairs that I don't know how to help. I'm hopin' you will. Young lady by the name of Athena Carrigan."

[bardish]

Look, there's just something about his face that makes him extra trustworthy and-- no, okay, Jeff really is just falling back on the kindness of strangers right now. And if those strangers happen to look like him, that just makes them all the more nonthreatening. He lets Raylan herd him without protest, moving automatically at his other half's urging, almost like he doesn't even notice it. His death grip on his guitar loosens, relaxes, as he starts to follow like a lost lamb, his pace a little slower, a little more careful, than it would normally be, on account of the whole barefoot thing.

"Athena?" There's a borderline shrill note to his voice, a cocktail of frantic concern and confusion. It's not a name he expects to hear, though he has to admit, mini bomb does have a certain accuracy to it that quells any doubts that he could be talking about some other Athena Carrigan. He slings his guitar over his shoulder, finally freeing both hands, like he doesn't need the safety blanket now that he's got somebody else to focus all his worry on. "How long has she been here? I just-- the other day--"

He gestures vaguely behind them, as if to indicate back home, where he'd last seen her pretty recently. God, was she taken just hours before him? The poor kid, after everything that's happened...

"Is she okay?"

He doubts she is. How can she be okay with any of this? But Jeff can bet she's putting on a brave face, wearing cheerful teenage flippancy like a suit of armor.

[tinstar]

The shrill pitch only makes Raylan's eyebrows lift a little as something about this one hit the small headache forming in his temples, though that could have been from the scrap he'd just gotten into with Callisto. He really should lay off the moonshine if he was going to be taking these levels of sound and action every day.

"She's in one piece. Workin' towards bein' okay but Mathis bein' what she is.." Raylan's lips tightened and turned down as his jaw tensed, chewing the sentiment for a moment. It wasn't right, fucking with kids. It wasn't right bringing them into this horror mess either.

"She's been here for just over two weeks by my count. I've been here for two months," he continued with a glance over. Context, context. "Took her goin' through somethin' here to get her to agree to stay in one spot at night where I can get to her if somethin' happens. She assumed I was you, first time I met her. Then she freaked out when she realized I wasn't. She's come around. But she blew out the windows on a house on the other side of town. Somethin's.. I dunno, wrong with y'alls.. power. Worked her up pretty bad."

Thus his concern. He didn't understand shit about magic or what they really were, even though he'd gotten the run down from Tim on the D&D specs. None of those made sense either, really, beyond the most base level of understanding. Hell, even when Athena tried to explain just music to him, his eyes glazed over a little.

[bardish]

Two weeks? But it'd only been a day for Jeff, so either there's some fucked up time-and-space shit going on here, or Jeff had blacked out for way longer than he'd thought. Neither option's particularly comforting, and he can't help but wonder...

Is this some kind of... parallel plane of existence? Like the real world, the world they're used to, is just out of reach. Is this town lively and packed with activity, just one layer beyond them? It's not the most outlandish thing to consider, when he thinks about... certain elements in his own life.

(Is this how it experienced the world, before it found him? Here, and not-here at the same time.)

Jeff scrubs a hand over his mouth and huffs out a breath as he listens, gets caught up on the Athena situation. It's so fucking unfair. She should be here-- wherever here is, anyway. She should be at home, with her aunt. She should be at school. She should be hanging out with her friends. She should just get to live that happy teenage life that she deserves, and it's like every step of the way, there's a new roadblock dropped right in front of her. Abusers, users, serial killers-- and you know, he really thought it'd be hard to escalate from a fucking serial killer, but now here they are, in a goddamn ghost world!

"Fuck," he says, finally. "This is wrong. It's all--" He furrows his brow and looks up at the sky, and around them, at the stillness surrounding them, and he shakes his head. He hasn't tried to do anything with the Gift since waking up here, but he can tell there's something off. Like the frequency's just out of sync, white noise cutting into what's normally so clear and harmonious to him.

But he doesn't mention that. Instead, he just says softly, "She should be at home."

Stating the obvious. But there's a knot of dread inside him, coiling tighter as he thinks about all the horrible, fucked up things that could happen to Athena here, if she's trying to mess around with the Gift while it's all out of tune. Not like he doesn't know, first-hand, how badly it can go. It's all so grossly unfair, the kid being here.

[tinstar]

Raylan nods sympathetically. He had no idea the true depth of bullshit that Athena had come from, though he'd heard enough of the base facts about her life to know that it was already pretty shitty. Even without all the Extra Crap, Raylan easily got on the 'She shouldn't be here' train.

"All these young kids should be at home," he replies in a quiet, even voice. Claire's body was still laying in the chasm. Raylan knew they weren't going to be able to get her. It killed him. His jaw worked as he thought about it and opted to not share that particular image with Jeff. It would only make the man's worry over Athena worse.

"She makes the third here. Ellie and Claire are the other two. All just at or under 20."

He gestured up the road at the row of houses creeping larger in their vision. "Phillips Drive. First street Mathis let us have. I've got her set up in 1308 but I bet you could guess which one it is without lookin' at the numbers."

As evident by the mugs that were littered across it.

[bardish]

"Three kids." Jeff grimaces at the revelation. He doesn't know much about this place-- fuck, he doesn't know anything, really-- but at least he's lived a life. He'd still like to have another forty, fifty years, but if he doesn't make it out of here, at least he's had a decent run of things. He's gotten to know some of the highest highs, and he's crashed into rock bottom, and he's climbed his way back out and into something nice. Athena, and the other kids, he'd imagine... Their lives are only just beginning. They deserve a shot.

"And..." He chews on his lip, trying to work out a bigger picture here. "You've been here two months. How many, uh... How many others are there? I mean. Overall."

And how long has the longest resident been here? And also what's your name? Where are you from, what do you do-- so many questions sit at the tip of his tongue, and he wants to ask them all, but as they come up on the street, those questions are immediately displaced by one very important one.

"Why's it so mug-gy out there?" Jeff blinks, then it dawns on him. "Ohhhh... It's muggy outside!" He can't help but smile fondly at the display. That's Athena's, all right. No matter how messed up things might be here, she's still got her Athena-ness intact. "Right on."

If Athena is on the porch or something, you can ignore the call ect, ect

[tinstar]

The grimace was good. With what little he'd heard from Athena, there'd been some niggling idea that Jeff might be... inappropriately weird. Teachers taking on kids for after school music sessions where they had some weird connection struck Raylan as Not The Best for Jeff's overall image, but now that he's got the man in front of him (or they were about to test if this was all some fucked up group nightmare that Mathis was testing out on Raylan) his gut suggested differently.

Which was good; he would have hated to have a reason to hate his own face any more than he already did.

"Roughly, just about twenty, give or take a few souls. People come in, same or similar way you did. Not everyone who shows up stays. Not everyone who dies stays dead. The worst kinda crapshoot."

As they walked up to the house, Raylan cracked a smirk that broke into a full out, shit eating grin that dropped a little as his head craned back over. "Did you just say 'Right on'? Shit, got California in your pocket, don't you. How old are you?"

If Jeff was pulling in at sixty, Raylan was not only calling bullshit but would spend a few minutes thanking whatever is in their genetics to make them age as well as they were.

Raylan lead the way up the stairs and into the front door, calling out as he took off his hat. "ATHENA, YOU HERE?" Whenever he raised his voice like that, the vowels got a little longer, though he somehow lost the first A of Athena's name. It'd been Southernized.

[citharede]

"IN THE KITCHEN BEING PUNISHED FOR MY EXCELLENT SENSE OF HUMOR!"

She sticks her head into the hallway, starting to speak before she notices the fact that the person with Raylan is not Tim. No one ever said her situational awareness is great when she's feeling relaxed. "I'm washing mugs. I ran out of room in the sink which is why a bunch are still--"

Athena stops abruptly, really registering the man following Raylan. She steps into the hall, hands damp and a little sudsy, eyes huge.

"You're fucking with me," she says, though it's not entirely clear whether she's saying it to Raylan or Jeff or Mathias at large.

But no, it has to be Jeff. He's there with his stupid face that's so much like Raylan's and not at all, in an outfit that totally could have come out of one of these nineties closets, jeans and flannel over a tatty Jesus and Mary Chain band t-shirt. Barefoot. With a guitar slung over his shoulders.

Her eyes fill with unintentional tears, the little question coming out almost silent. "Jeff?"

She doesn't actually wait for him to answer. Just bolts down the hall and slams into him, pressing her face against his chest and telling herself not to cry even though it's already way too late to stop it. "What the fuck are you doing here you stupid fucker!"

[bardish]

There's still so much to take in-- so much to learn-- but now that evidence of Athena's presence is sitting right on the lawn, and her appearance is just around the corner, he needs to stay focused and keep his shit together for the kid.

There's plenty of time to freak out about death maybe-not-sticking and bombard Raylan with questions later. For now, he returns his twin's grin, all bright and sunny.

"Dude, I'm only 44," Jeff laughs, before pointing a finger up to punctuate his next point. "Though, in my defense, my parents were total hippies."

And at the thought of his parents, the chaotic and loving environment of the Calhoun household, he can't help but wonder what it must've been like for the cowboy. Obviously didn't grow up with West Coast hippies for parents. Probably isn't Gifted, judging by the way he kind of stumbled around talking about it. Even if they aren't related (immediately or distantly), Jeff still wonders about all the nature and nurture implications at play here. Does he have brothers or sisters? Were his parents alive and together? Was he an overachiever growing up, or did he struggle and fail his way through school the way Jeff did?

He follows Raylan into the house, and all the questions racing through his head silence as he hears Athena's voice, loud and silly and familiar. That's her, all right. And soon she's poking her head out from the kitchen, and looking at them, chatting easily, clearly relaxed with Raylan (which says good things about him, far as he figures), and this could all seem so normal, if it weren't for all the insane circumstances bringing them here.

When Athena sees him and comes to an abrupt stop, Jeff pulls one corner of his mouth up in a lopsided smile, looking a little like an overgrown errant teenager who's just been caught staying out too late. He holds a hand up in a wave.

"Heeey, songbird."

And that's all he gets out before Athena's slamming into him, hugging him like she's trying to make sure he's real. Oof, the kid's like a pint sized cannonball. But she's healthy, and she's safe, and it's about the best case scenario if she has to be trapped here. Jeff puts his arms around her, returning the hug with all the dad energy he can give.

"Well I meant to get here a couple weeks ago, but you know me." He smiles down at her, warm and sincere in spite of the light tone. "Bad with directions."

[tinstar]

Raylan lifts his eyebrows, lips turning down in a facial 'Huh, how about that'. Only a year older than him and possibly less than, depending on when Jeff's birthday was. Hippies for parents and what that even might start to look like was only something that Raylan could assume about. Either way, he's sure that Jeff's upbringing was softer than his own, considering how emotionally expressive he'd been so far.

For the better; no one should have been raised the way Raylan had, in the end. Maybe they'd get a chance to compare notes sometimes.

For now, the most important thing was getting Jeff to his person. If there was one thing Raylan had learned here, it was that people took the whole place better when they had a familiar face with them, doubly so when they cared about that familiar face. Jeff had a lot to parse coming his way, but for a few seconds he should be able to find something akin to normal. Before normal was taken out back and beaten like a red-headed stepchild.

Smirking at Athena's reply, he watched the surprise roll over her face and glanced at Jeff before shaking his head. No, no one was fucking with her, though it was up for debate if he was getting fucked with, an idea that would no doubt settle in a few days. 'Songbird' gets a fond tilt of his lips and a canting of his head - maybe there was something to this 'twins' business that would make some kind of sense in the construct of Mathis's power.

"I'mma go start some coffee," Raylan said with a little nod as he headed towards the kitchen, hat dropped on the table as he went. He wasn't leaving but he figured they could use a minute or two without having to worry about what they were looking like in front of a practical stranger.

[citharede]

Athena kept her face pressed against Jeff's shirt for several long seconds, trying to get herself as under control as possible. She wanted to spill everything, all at once--stockpiling food, sleeping in different houses each night, getting stuck in the tunnels and deciding to stay with Raylan and Tim instead. Getting stuck in the tunnels and dreaming about that man and his prisoner. Getting stuck in the tunnels and being followed by something oppressive and invisible for the past week.

Instead, she whispers, "Fuck."

She draws back, just barely enough to get her arm up between them and shove tears out of her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Fuck."

Athena bites her lip, blinking a few times to try and keep tears back. "This place is fucking evil, Jeff. It's fucking evil, and I haven't even been here for most of it."

[bardish]

Jeff shoots Raylan a grateful smile over Athena's head. There's a lot he wants to thank the man for-- taking care of Athena, helping the kid feel safe and comfortable enough to treat this house like something of a home-- but it'll have to wait a little.

You'd better believe a hug is coming in the very near future, mister.

"Yeaaah... Fuck," he agrees, because that's pretty much their second shared language, outside of music. Or, like, third, he guesses, since English probably counts, too, as a whole... Third shared language, though? Swearing.

"I'm sorry, songbird-- I'm so fucking sorry you had to wake up here alone and confused and-- fuck, it must've been scary." He exhales. "I mean, I'm fucking scared, and while I admit it's a low bar and you're made of tougher stuff than me--" Time to cut that rambling aside with some serious sincerity. "--you shouldn't have to be. Whatever fucked up shit happens from here on out? I'm gonna share the load with you. Okay? You're not alone."

And god, he's so fucking grateful she's had Raylan and-- hopefully-- others here to look after her and drive that point home.

[citharede]

She blinks a few times, trying to keep herself from crying more, but her smile is shaky. "I told Doc when I got here that I was gonna have an army with how many people said they'd help me."

Athena glances back toward the kitchen, lowering her voice just a little. "Something was following me, Jeff. I couldn't... see it, it's gone now I think, but there was something there, after I got caught in the tunnels."

She blinks. "Right. Uh, there are creepy fucking tunnels here."

[bardish]

Oh.

Well.

That's concerning.

Jeff tries to keep his expression... not neutral, exactly, but... level? Calm? He tries not to betray just how much that revelation makes his heart slam inside his chest and his stomach coil up in a wave of nausea.

The Gift's all out of whack here. She's been having problems; Raylan told him as much. And now this. Something following. Something she couldn't see... He can't help but make a beeline to the worst possible conclusion.

That's how it starts. Just a presence, a feeling.

"Athena, what..." He exhales, looking away for a moment, trying to put the words together in his head before he speaks again. But nothing comes just yet, it's just a panicky jumble, and the last thing he wants is to spread that around like a sickness. So he puts his arms around Athena again, gives her another hug, tight, like that'll keep her from getting dragged into the something's orbit, and says, "Fuck."

[citharede]

He hugs her. He hugs her, and Athena lets herself be pulled into it, too grateful to resist. Too startled to resist, as well. He never hugs her. Not first. He always waits until she initiates before he touches her at all, and it's one of the things she's always loved about him.

But he's hugging her now. The only other time he'd done that was the first time he saw her after Eagan died.

He's scared. For her. Goosebumps prickle across her neck and shoulders and she forces down a shiver.

"Yeah," she agrees softly. She gives him one little extra squeeze before moving to drag him toward the kitchen. "I'm going to fuck everything up if I try to explain everything that's going on. Raylan's been here longer anyway."

[bardish]

She has a way of doing that sometimes, preemptively downplaying herself, her intelligence, thoughtfulness, like she's heading off anyone else from doing it at the pass. Jeff's seen that tendency in so many kids over the years-- fuck, he did it, too. (Probably still does, if he's being honest.)

It's always so tempting to call it out in some well-meaning, uplifting way, but he knows that kind of defense mechanism isn't so easy to dismantle. Well-meaning and uplifting can just as easily become patronizing and condescending.

"Mmmhm," he hums, in the tune of teasing skepticism as they head on to join Raylan in the kitchen. "But just think, you could say literally anything right now, and I'd totally believe you! Most teenagers would jump at the opportunity."

[citharede]

She looks back and up at Jeff, her expression bleak.

“Not here. If they did it here they’d be fucking monsters.”

[bardish]

"Well..." Jeff winces as the attempt at bringing them both to a somewhat lighter place doesn't exactly work out. Fuck, though, he can't blame her, if this place is even half as bad as they've said. And with the specter of something out there, attaching itself to her, or at least trying to...

He wants to think about anything else than the chance that Athena might go the way he had, all those years ago. But he can't close his eyes and cover his ears and bury his head, not from this. Not when it's a very real possibility.

And fuck, what other horrible shit does this place have to offer?

He shoots Athena a subdued smile.

"Then I'm glad you're not a monster."