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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"I'm wrong a lot of the time. Hazard of being an idiot." Tim agreed without much thought but her second comment caught him off guard just enough to cause him to stop and turn towards her. His brows pinched as he replayed their conversation over in his head.

"Do you mean I'm weird?" How the hell do you mime weird? He lifted a finger up to his temple and twirled it.

Edited 2021-05-29 21:53 (UTC)

"Yes"," she says, snapping her fingers. That's the word she wants.

... Or so she assumes. The gesture fits, anyway.

"Yes, weird. Small wrong, but big weird."

"That's just because of the way I part my hair," Tim said in response, his hands moving to sign out the idea of parting his hair and his blue eyes twinkling a little with wry humor.

Because he sure as hell couldn't tell her she was wrong. He was a big weird, sometimes even to his own damn self.

Ugh. She wrinkles her nose in response to that, though it's a mild bratty reaction rather than one of genuine annoyance.

"And I'm the way I am because of my hair color," she says in Greek - tugging on a lock of it, then waving a hand to indicate her whole self. "Watch out for blonde girls, Tim. This?" She tugs her hair again. "Dangerous."

That last bit is relayed in English.

"Well yes," Tim said as if that was a fact of which he was well aware. "The female of the species," he gestured towards her "is always more dangerous than the male." He gestured back to himself.

"Usually smarter too." He gestured to his head but this time lifted his hands upwards to indicate higher brain function. "I wake up in a sweat thinking of you an Rachel teaming up."

"Tell that to Raylan, who doesn't think women are worthy of fighting him," she says, before attempting to translate the sentiment.

"Say this... on... Raylan?"

Tim had been there for the end of that conversation, so she assumes he'll be able to extrapolate the rest.

He was able to extrapolate a good idea and he sighed.

"It's not ..." he began before stepping in front of her and putting his hands on his hips and sorted out the best way to try to explain. He considered trying to walk her through the cultural aspects of why they struggled with violence towards women, but dismissed it as being too long. To many chances to get away from the point, better to keep to the core of it.

"Raylan's father," he made the motion of various family members. "beat, dangerous to his mother." He smacked his fist into his hand over and over. "She was not like you," pointing towards Callisto. "She could not defend herself, which is why he beat on her. Because it made him feel strong."

He probably looked an idiot with the charades, but he was doing his best.

"Raylan hates his father," with good reason if Tim's expression is anything to go by. "He works hard not to be like Arlo."

Tim exhaled and looked off through the trees with a hundred yard stare before he looked back to her and boiled it down.

"It's not about you," he signed. "It's about a man you will never meet."

"Arlo is the father?" She asks, just to make sure she's following this correctly - but she doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on.

"This is weird." Though if her expression is anything to go by, the word she wants is something more like stupid. "I am dangerous. I--" She copies Tim's sign for beating. "I do this, at him. No problem."

In other words, the situation is totally different, as far as she's concerned - and if he refuses to fight all women because his mother was defenseless, she considers that tantamount to saying that all women are defenseless.

"Yes," Tim answered the question about Arlo.

He then grit his teeth and looked upwards. He was just about over people not listening to him. When he looked back at her, his blue eyes were dark and held an edge in them that was rarely seen.

"It.Is.NOT.About.You." Tim said through his teeth, making the motions very deliberate.

"You want a fight? I am right here," he spread his arms in a 'bring it' motion. "If it's not a fight you want then I am going to assume you just want to manipulate him to prove that you can."

The anger surprises her as well as intrigues her, and both emotions are clear on her face.

"Why?" she asks. "Why fight you and not he?"

"That is what I am asking you," Tim counters.

"Why do you want to fight him? If you want to fight, I'm right here. But you want to fight him. Why?"

"You and him," she suggests, raising an eyebrow. "Because--"

And here's another question that no one has ever asked her, and that she's certainly asked herself. She shakes her head, baffled.

"Because. Because why not? Because death. Because... small death."

Injury, Pain. She's felt it, so why not make everybody else feel it, too?

What made this situation particularly ironic was the similarity between Callisto and Raylan. Tim was not unfamiliar with the sort of anger that could have all the external routes in the world, yet still found a way to turn inwards. Trying to tell that type of person that what they felt, what they wanted was wrong and they should instead, talk out their damage ... sometimes it didn't feed the bulldog.

He knew the language of anger, the language of rage and of hurt.

So again he opened his hands wide in a calm sort of invitation. There was nothing personal about it, he wasn't angry at her. This wasn't about punishment or even an argument because Tim knew good and well it wouldn't solve anything. At best it might provide a bit more understanding, when all was said and done, but mostly it was letting off some pressure built up in this place.

Oh.

Now?

She looks surprised at first, but honestly, even her very real interest in the exploration they're doing isn't enough to make her turn down that invitation. Dropping the useless butterknife onto the forest floor, she spins to face Tim and charges, aiming to hit him squarely in the chest.

Tim had never once thought she didn't have the skills and experience to deliver on her threats. He also understood -or liked to think he understood- that those skills were fueled by an unfathomable rage. The last bit alone made her dangerous.

What he had always kept under his hat was the depth of his own training. It was far and beyond what the Marshal Service offered and had been honed in two wars. Additionally, well hidden under his hat was the pressure of his own anger. Raylan would have been pulling his punches. Tim knew exactly how to hit for maximum pain, disabling without leaving broken bones. This meant he countered full force.

She wanted pain? He would oblige.

He didn't yell or make any noise whatsoever as he shifted his center of gravity in preparation to harness the power of her momentum into him. He didn't try to evade or redirect her charge, the way a gentleman would have. His hands reached for her shoulders, not to stop her but to encourage her momentum forward and down, into the knee he brought up, aimed squarely for her solar plexus.

It works like a charm, and the blow knocks the wind out of her, rendering her limp for a few precious seconds. But of course, this isn't anything close to enough to stop her - she recovers quickly, arcing a hand through the air in an effort to chop him in the collarbone, all her strength behind the blow. She might not have enough breath to talk right now, but she can still fight.

Hand to hand combat was like playing chess. The best defense is always offense; never give ground.

Tim let the blow come down on his shoulder, rolling with his hips to soften some of the force of her strike. It was still going to leave him with a substantial bruise, but he managed to stay on his feet and the twist of his hips, bend of the knees provided him with momentum for his next attack.

Which was an attempt to come up under her chin with the palm of his hand aimed towards her throat. Here he did pull his punch a little, as a direct throat strike could risk a fractured larynx. Instead he put his power at an angle and basically attempted to drive her bottom teeth up through her sinuses.

The shriek of pure rage that she lets loose with is perhaps offset by her wide, vicious smile. She jerks her head back as he goes in for the punch, but it's hard to avoid it entirely, because she's also currently up in his space and trying to get a hand wrapped around his throat. So his hit connects, and her head snaps back; a bloom of pain shoots through her jaw, and she sees stars.

She screams again. And then she laughs.

In contrast, Tim is silent as the grave. There is no expression of thrill in his eyes or on his face.

Committed to his upward palm strike Tim did not try to evade her reach for his throat. His throat was slim enough that she probably got a good grip! Rather than trying to yank back, he lifted his left hand to the back of his head, folding his elbow, turning and slamming the pointed joint down into the bend of her elbow.

His intention was to block her other hand with the back of his other hand, then double pendulum punch just under her sternum. Again he did not pull his punches.

She digs her fingers into the skin of his neck even as he delivers his hits, though he's at least able to sufficiently distract her to the point that any serious strangulation attempts are waylaid. Dropping her hand from his neck to his shoulder and bringing up her other hand to follow suit, she pushes down hard, using that momentum to flip herself up into the air and over his head, with the aim of landing behind him.

Those flips were impressive!

It would have been the most natural thing for him to try to turn around to face her. But she was quick in that flip and any effort by him to spin one eighty would risk him being out of balance when she attacked. It was the hardest thing but he didn't try to turn when she was at his back.

He waited for the incoming attack.

She almost comes at him again. She lands about ten feet away, and drops immediately down into charging stance - but then he doesn't turn, and he doesn't fight, and he just waits.

She spits blood onto the ground instead.

"You're good," she snaps in Greek, either not caring or momentarily forgetting that he can't understand her.

It took a moment for him to dial down hair trigger reactions from the anticipation of her attack. The attack that didn't come.

When he heard her spit he turned to face her. No he had no idea what the Greek meant, though he was thinking that perhaps it was a positive thing, since she wasn't still coming at him.

"Nice flip," he said making the motion of her twirling over his head and then thumbs up.

She responds to that by spitting out another mouthful of blood, this one with enough range that it might risk splattering him. Sorry, Tim; she's the worst.

Callisto.

Callisto.

"Now you're just making me homesick," is his response, though she might not get the words perhaps she can understand the wry tone. Fugitives far and wide shared secrets on how to hurt the tender feels of the Marshal Service.

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