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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Now that he's got a place to stay, it's time to tackle the basics: exploring his new surroundings, and stocking up on the necessities. Clothes, shoes, underwear, a toothbrush of his very own-- oh! Socks! Don't forget socks! And, look, it's a long shot, but if he happens to stumble upon an amp, he'll just have to pick it up for himself... It wouldn't be right to let it sit around, collecting dust, when there's a perfectly good guitar that could benefit from it!

So that's his shopping list. Clothes, toiletries, and an amp. And maybe a walkman. And some tapes. Look, he's a bard, it's totally essential!

...Okay, Jeff's pretty sure he's had a version of this conversation with himself, like, thirty years ago, to justify all the shoplifting he'd been doing. But this is different. This isn't stealing, it's scavenging. Ethical scavenging.

He can be found at the General Store and the Beauty Supply shop, scouring the shelves for the necessities, which he shoves into a backpack, when he isn't too busy comparing products like this is a totally normal suburban shopping experience. Look, his hair has needs, and he isn't about to skimp on styling just because he's in some fucking spooky ghost town that went all... Roanoke.

He also hits Poe's Clothes, and having spent his 20s in the 90s, the abundance of flannel is honestly something of a relief here. If you happen to come in while he's squinting at two nearly identical shirts, trying to determine which pattern of plaid he likes better, feel free to give him some fashion advice. He could use it; otherwise, he'll be spinning his wheels in indecision for the entire fucking day.

Spin Right Round Records is, of course, a fucking no-brainer. It's kind of unsettling, seeing so many albums that seem kiiiind of familiar, but totally alien at the same time. Like the music scene he knew has just been filtered through a goddamn kaleidoscope and spat back out all weird.

Unsettling, but also exciting, in a way. It's okay if he takes a few tapes, right? It's, like. Research!

(Jeff may be a little jumpier in this store, as if expecting some phantom employee to come and catch him shoplifting. Now that he's deviated away from the strictly essential scavenging, he's starting to feel like maybe he's getting a little greedy. There's a twinge of guilt that goes along with it.)

Later, he'll check out some of the residential houses-- at least, the ones he assumes are still abandoned. It's mainly out of morbid curiosity, but also because he wants to see if there's anything else on his checklist. There's got to be an amp in some teenager's former room, right? In this entire fucking town, there's got to be at least one aspiring garage band!

But maybe Jeff misjudges the state of some of the houses. Maybe he stumbles into yours, blissfully ignorant that he's now crossed the line from ethical scavenging to breaking and entering and burglary. It's totally an accident if he does.

(And, look, he's a little slow on the uptake with 1306. All he knows is, there's a pair of shoes he's trying on that really feels like they were made for his feet. It's a perfect fit! He feels like fucking Cinderella here.)

Edited 2021-05-17 08:54 (UTC)

It's a little early for Raylan to be coming back to the house but Doc wouldn't have thought anything of it really. They are free to come and go as they please and they don't keep much of a schedule. It's not until Doc emerges from the internal garage door with an empty glass bottle did he do a double-take. A cowboy knows when he sees another cowboy at a glance, and it ain't in the hat. Even if the bard happened to have it in tow, no steel string prop is going to fool the gunslinger. When God brought Raylan Givens into this world, He dealt his cards and gave him hell. Robbed him of a decent father, cast him down into dark and suffocating coal pits, burdened him with an unfair legacy and he's had to grit his teeth and bear it all without buckling under the pressure of the strain. That oddly natural easy-going smile did not belong to, and would never grace Raylan's face.

It's enough to piss off one of the purportedly nicest old men in town. Mathias's latest round of bullshit feels intensely personal, like she's trying to re-gift everything Raylan never got to have to some asshole who's now trying to take his fucking shoes on top of already having pilfered everything else.

"Son, you've got four seconds to put those shoes back where you found 'em before I detach your face-stealin' head from your shoulders right where you stand. With a butter knife," Doc drawls. "You've got some nerve." He might not have a shotgun or a distinct twang but he's deadly serious about kicking face and shoe thieves off his lawn.

The yelp he lets out is uncontrolled and totally undignified. The subsequent flail as he reflexively tries to kick off the shoe he'd been trying on is even more uncontrolled, and even less dignified. It ends in him kind of tripping on his own legs (why are they so long!) and falling on his ass.

"Fuck-- ow-- fuck!"

He looks up at the guy, expression giving full-on deer-in-headlights realness, before launching into a panic ramble.

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I had no idea these shoes belonged to someone, I mean, half the fucking houses are totally abandoned, and I thought-- 'maybe this one's abandoned, too,' and 'oh look that shoe is actually my size, now I don't have to wander around like a barefoot fucking maniac who's definitely going to step on a nail and get tetanus' and--" Jeff stops mid-ramble, squinting at the other man as he takes a moment to really take him in. "Okay, what is with this town and cowboys? Also?" He holds up a finger. "For the record, I didn't steal anyone's fucking face! This is my face, I call dibs!"

Edited 2021-05-17 23:09 (UTC)

That... wasn't what Doc was expecting. He was maybe expecting someone who's at least... not so clumsy and awkward and... maybe a little less of a spaz? He almost feels bad for startling the man but until Doc figures him out, he's going to be a little guarded.

Doc crouches down and narrows his eyes, maintaining eye contact while he straightens some of the shoes next to them. He's not really sure where to start to untangle that string of brainfarts.

"You bear an uncanny resemblance in face and stature to someone else here," Doc explains without outright apologising for threatening him. "This house is not abandoned. We offer moonshine and basic first aid to anyone who needs it." Though usually first aid isn't offered because the inhabitants of this house are threatening or enacting violence.

"Perhaps you would like to come in for some tea? Might be I have a spare pair of shoes for you."

From his position on the ground, Jeff looks at the cowboy warily and starts to edge back juuust a little, the threat of a vicious butter knife attack fresh on his mind. But at least he seems a little less hostile now that Jeff very clearly, calmly, and articulately explained himself.

(Yeah, okay, he knows he was miles away from clear, calm, and articulate. But let him have this!)

And despite both giving and receiving the, uh, worst possible first impression one could get with another person, Jeff can't help but smile a little when the other man mentions that 'someone else.'

"You mean Raylan?" Judging by the tone of his voice, it's pretty safe to assume that Jeff thinks Raylan is both really cool and also a friend of his (whether Raylan's agreed to or is aware of said friendship or not).

Any lingering apprehension seems to vanish, and Jeff sits up a little straighter, perking up.

"Oh yeah, that sounds great! Thanks, uh, and... sorry again, about the... attempted shoe theft-- shit, oh wait--" Quickly-- and respectfully!-- he manages to get the shoe off his foot and place it with the others.

"I'm Jeff," he says, offering his hand. Just a casual handshake on a garage floor, totally normal.

"Indeed." So it seems Raylan has met the face-thief, too. No doubt that would have been... a conversation.

"Robbing a Marshal, he'd probably do worse to ya," Doc points out as he takes Jeff's hand, sort of mistakes it for a request for assistance to help him up and gives it a firm pull as he gets to his feet and hopefully helps Jeff up without it feeling like he's trying to rip his arm straight from its socket.

"The name is Henry. But most people call me Doc." The other names will come along later, probably. Doc gestures towards the kitchen as he walks back inside. The cowboy looks completely at odds with the very modern house, like an animated two hundred year old antique in an IKEA catalogue, but he seems to know where everything is in the kitchen so surely a part of him belongs in the house.

After throwing teabags into two mugs and putting the kettle on, Doc hunches over the countertop and tilts his head to one side, eyeing Jeff as he makes his way to the kitchen counter.

"Jeff... You are... the man in little miss Athena's telephone." He'd vaguely remembered being shown a photo of someone who looked like Raylan grinning like an idiot. But photos can look a little different from people in the flesh and he wasn't expecting this degree of resemblance.

Also, there was a lot of alcohol that night. Much of the details were fuzzy.

"Oh!" He lets out a startled little noise as he's pulled up. Which, sure, not the handshake he'd intended, but he can't blame the guy for thinking he might need help, considering all the flailing that just went down. He probably doesn't trust Jeff to use his legs properly. "Ah-- thanks."

And the cowboy goes by Doc. There's an excited 'like Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp and the O.K. Corral!' on the tip of his tongue, but Jeff (somehow) manages to keep it to himself, if only because he figures there'd be one of three possible scenarios that would follow. 1) He's a fan of the real Doc Holliday, and Jeff got the reference, and a good chuckle is had by all, 2) He has no idea who Doc Holliday is, and it's a total coincidence, and then Jeff would have to awkwardly explain why he said 'Like Doc Holliday!' and he's not sure if he should explain using the historical figure as a reference, or the Val Kilmer version, or 3) This is, somehow, actually the honest-to-god Doc Holliday and Jeff just did the embarrassing history nerd equivalent of chasing Bill Murray down a street while raving about Groundhog Day. (Unlikely, but he can't discount anything, considering the fact that he woke up in a ghost town and already met a twin from another reality.)

Besides, Jeff's on thin ice as it is. No need to potentially make it worse. He follows Doc into the house, looking around curiously, as if expecting something a little more Old West, which wouldn't have made much sense anyway, and yet...

"I'm..." Jeff blinks, the word telephone immediately sending his mind to landline phones, instead of smart phones, and it takes a second to click. "Oh! Yeah, that's me! I'm that Jeff." He smiles fondly. "So you know Athena, huh?"

"We met, at the-... party at which she had adult supervision mmmmost of the time." He didn't introduce himself as Doc Holliday to her so she won't be the one to break that particular bit of news to Jeff.

"I tried to get her to consider not going at it alone, but she's stubborn as a mule. Slow to trust, too. Least she's easier to find next door now. Easier to keep an eye out." Suddenly the cowboy who had threatened butter knife decapitation moments before is wearing this Furrowed Eyebrows, Troubled, Concerned Dad face like an offer of tea has abruptly morphed into some parent teacher evening.

"Where are you holed up? I would give you the same advice, son. This ain't a town you wanna be alone in." Especially seeing as he's so... Well. Doc's not one to say something unkind, but. Let's just say that the next time shit hits the fan in Mathias, his money isn't going to be on Jeff dying last.

Stubborn as a mule and slow to trust?

"Yeaaah... That sounds like Athena, all right," Jeff admits, fond, but noticeably more grounded now, with his own hint of Concerned Dad running through his expression. He can't exactly blame her, knowing what her baseline for adults was before her aunt took her in. Getting to know Lenore over the past year, he knows how difficult it was for her to gain Athena's trust-- how hard it was for both of them to adjust to life with each other.

And he's seen how far she's come. Opening up, learning to trust, letting herself shine bright like she deserves. And then that fucking asshole, that piece of shit Eagan, almost took it all away from her. But with time and support, consistency, stability, Athena was coming back and...

And fuck. Now this. Now she's here. He chews on his lip in worry, then looks over at Doc.

(Which, if he knew the man's assessment of him, he would find it... hurtful! Hurtful and totally, totally accurate.)

"Oh. Next door, actually. I mean. For now. I don't know how long they-- you know, Raylan? Tim?-- I don't wanna overstay my welcome." But! More importantly, he changes the subject away from himself at the first possible opportunity: "So Athena, she was trying to go at it alone for a while there?"

It's a question, but... not. He can take a guess at how old habits would quickly resurface when faced with a terrifying, unfamiliar place after only just finding some fragile sense of stability.

DAY 60 (OTA)

🔪 chez 1306

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Day 60 - Beauty Supply

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Poe's Clothes

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