villagelogs | 062 » that moment of experience / part i

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062 » that moment of experience / part i

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern/Western Mathias
WHEN: Day 062
WHAT: A storm rains destruction upon the town.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! Part II details are below.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Creeper"

DAY 062
THAT MOMENT OF EXPERIENCE
“A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one
chooses that moment of experience from which to
look back or from which to look ahead.”
— Graham Greene
The day begins like any other might. The clouds occasionally part to give glimpses of the sun, offering a bit of hope that the hours might pass without incident. It is a hope that is soon dashed, however, for midday brings with it a suddenly darkening sky. Those near the beach will be able to see the ocean churning as all light seems to be bled from the day, the sky darkening into a purplish-black more quickly than is natural, the process taking a mere ten minutes from start to finish.

And then it begins.

The rain is so heavy and pouring so fast that the ground cannot take it all in, sending rivers down streets and leaving lawns as lakes. The winds blow in gusts so strong that they could knock someone over, and the lightning that arcs brightly through the sky is immediately followed by thunder that shakes the town to its core, the tremors almost reminiscent of the earthquakes that plagued the town only days ago.

For some, the storm will be another nuisance of mother nature, forcing them to remain wherever they were before its sudden approach. But for others, it will be far more than that, for this storm is seeking revenge on those who sought to destroy the town. Destruction will rain down and it will not stop until its vengeance is satisfied.

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. If nothing else, the cowboys' homemade moonshine should do the trick.

ABOUT THE STORM
The storm will begin at midday and last until late into the night, only calming in the early hours of the morning. The heavy rain will flood the streets, though it will not be enough to flood the buildings themselves (except as noted below), and the winds and thunder will shake the town with such strength that it will almost seem as if the town is trying to tear itself apart.

But this is not a simple storm. For those residents who took part in any way in the destruction of the Town Hall, History Museum, or Stoker Park house, they will find the storm will destroy their shelter in some fashion. This can include broken windows, caved-in roofs, flooding from the rain, or even lightning striking the building. The details are up to player choice but something will be damaged by the storm.

— All damage to buildings will be repaired by the dawn of the following day as if it never happened at all. There is no way to witness this process taking place.
— If a resident is sheltering in a shared living space with others who did not take part in the destruction of the town, you may choose to have only your character's section of that location damaged. However...
— The storm's focus will follow the resident if they move to another area or location, meaning that the new location will also suffer damage in some way.
— Only those who took part in the town destruction in some way will be targeted by the storm, but innocent bystanders can be caught up in the situation as well.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— 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.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue! Ellie has vanished while others have returned.

— ALCOHOL supplies have run dry, save for any dregs that have been squirreled away by individual residents. Moonshine can still be acquired by those in desperate need.

OOC NOTES

— NEW MAP Thanks so much to Scy for this amazing new map of Mathias!

— PROJECT HELP Your mod needs help with some projects!

— PART II The next part of the log series will be have characters divided up (by OOC choice, not IC) into groups, so be sure to sign up for one asap. Anyone who doesn't make the deadline will be automatically assigned to an available spot.

— 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. IC events are also helpful to know about in advance so they can be included in the log write-ups.

— 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. (All outstanding matters will be taken care of in the next few days!)

navigation | faq | locations | report updates

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He's greeted first by a lamp, which comes flying down the stairs, but a few seconds later Callisto appears, looking harried.

"It's just me," she says in Greek. "No one's injured."

Nothing unusual going on here, Malcolm; screaming and throwing things is clearly normal behavior when someone is annoyed. From upstairs, there's another crashing sound, and she turns to run back up and investigate.

That's my middle name.

[ she pulls her jeans down her legs—with difficulty, they're very, very wet—and her shirt up and over her head. picking up her towel, she tries to dry herself again—but it's a little difficult to, what with it being damp and all from her hair and face. ]

Elena Modest Gilbert. And yours is Elijah Super Annoying Mikaelson.

Unfortunately, you are incorrect. But, I'm also not going to tell you my middle name.

( because she'd use it against him and she's never let him forget. so, she was just going to be elijah to her. )

Why am I being super annoying?

( he was being helpful. )

If you're not going to tell me your middle name, then I won't tell you why you're annoying.

[ even though he can't see her with his back to her, she tilts her head up and pokes her tongue out at him. two can play at this game. she wipes down her legs as best she can, feeling like she's just rubbing water against water at this point. ]

That seems fair to me.

Hours later and to anyone paying attention to the cowboy would notice he seemed nearly allergic to Phillips Drive when the sun was up, too eager to be anywhere than the walls that contained him at night. Even Harlan hadn't been this small, though to be fair, 'Harlan' covered Harlan county, not just the town because shit, that'd be crazy.

Mathis's by line.

But it meant he was left to wander the streets between his makeshift tasks which was suitable, since one of those tasks was 'Keep an eye out for Daisy'. A task he was sadly familiar with. One he was unfortunately unlucky at. So when he spotted the familiar head of long-bobbed brunette hair, it stopped him short.

No way. No way after as much searching as he'd done for her, this time, he just finds her here.

"Daisy?" He lifted his voice just enough to carry as he started her way, eyes narrowed in suspicion that he hoped was needless. But he'd doubted every face he saw for at least a half second since the Others.

Well, unlike you, I can deal with not knowing why I'm annoying. I'll forget about that in a few moments.

( he turns his head just slightly but doesn't look back, still giving her the privacy she desires. )

You'll probably wonder about my middle name for quite some time.

( and maybe she'd eventually get it out of him if she was persistent enough. )

Nigel? No. [ she shakes her head and drops the towel to the floor. ] Rupert? Albert? Augustus?

[ crinkling her face, she shakes her head. none of those sound particularly nice. elena pulls her panties down her legs and kicks them off, and steps into her dry ones almost immediately, only glancing at him once to make sure he's not pulling a damon. ]

Bernard? You're so a Bernard.

[ it doesn't quite end up hitting her, but it comes close, and max has to leap out of the way to avoid it and the glass that rains down after it. she watches with a shocked expression when it flies back, then when a frying pan follows.

it's surprising enough that she misses callisto in the window, up until she comes running up to her, a woman she's never seen before. a new arrival, or has she just been gone that long?

she speaks to max in a language that takes her a minute to place - greek wasn't a language that had been extensively gone over in manticore, but what she's saying is basic enough for her to pick out the general meaning of. ]

Not very well. Do you know English?

I honestly think I'd prefer the eye spy game over you trying to guess my middle name when there are nearly an infinite amount of names in the universe.

( they would be here forever. everything around them would continue as elena tried to guess his middle name. )

So, I'd advise you to just forget about it, Elena.

Elijah Bernard Mikaelson.

[ now, with her jeans tugged up to her hips, she unclips her bra and slips on a new one. humming happily, she can't say she likes that name a tall. it's too... ugly. not at all classic like him. ]

There's no way your middle name is Michael. Elijah Michael Mikaelson? You might as well have been called Mike Michael Mikaelson.

[The woman speaks like Neal had - still Greek, and still sort of recognizable, but with enough different sounds and different words that Callisto has to concentrate hard and do a bit of extrapolating to figure out what's being said. She also doesn't recognize the modern Greek word for English, so she just shakes her head.]

No.

[But she says that in English, for what it's worth; she hasn't met a single other person besides herself who doesn't speak this particular language, so it's a safe bet.]

You are from--

[She pauses for a moment, trying to remember the name of the place Neal had given.]

New York City, America?

[ well, her answering and proceeding to ask her another question in english is enough of an answer. max shakes her head slowly, looking the woman over with wide eyes. ]

America. Not New York, though; Seattle.

[ but the specifics aren't really important right now, so, moving on: ]

You're - were you just outside before going in? [ she's soaked through, but she'd just been outside, and max isn't even quite that badly off yet. ]

No.

[Callisto says again, with a scowl.]

In is like this.

[She gestures to the roof, then holds one hand steady and crashing the other hand down on top of it: miming a roof caving in.]

Like this, you understand?

[Honestly, this is why she sleeps in the woods.]

Elena, if you're going to keep guessing, do you mind if I sit down and take a nap? You'll still be reciting names when I've gotten up and you'll still be wrong.

( because even if she happened to hit the right name, he wasn't going to tell her that. )

If this is what you want to do, feel free. I'll take a nap.

and maybe one day I can forget the past...
arrival → closed to kirigan.

[ Her mind had been whirring, curled into Mal's chest and safe. There were a lot of unknowns, a lot of pieces they needed to figure out. But, they were going to make it. They weren't alone. And she'd thought that was that. Until she washes up on shore, the bag barely still draped over her shoulder as her fingers dig into the sand -- trying to push herself up. Followed by a horrific realization as she tries to untangle herself from her skirts and cloak. Coughing a bit, she uses the back of her hand to wipe the water off of her face and get the strands of hair out of her eyes.

She begins looking for any signs of the wreckage, assuming she'd been knocked out or something. She had to have been, otherwise she'd have remembered anything in between the dock and the beach. Dropping her bag, she begins heading back towards the rough waters, the storm far off on the horizon rolling in fast. A storm that looks too much like the Fold to ignore. She has to hurry. She has to find him, anyone -- other survivors. ]

Mal? Mal!

[ She wasn't leaving him behind, storm of Fold be damned. ]

And be one of those girls of honey and glass.
riding out the storm → open.

[ She still felt like she was in a fog, settled in at the Grey Gull, her mind a thousand miles away after an intensely quiet conversation with Kirigan. Tucked away in as private of a space as they could manage to set the terms of their arrangement while here. A truce, if she could even call it that. She hadn't intended to stay here long, just needing a moment to get warm and give him enough time to go into town before she'd try to follow. Once the man clad all in black is out of sight, her head falls into her hands as she takes a shaky breath. Her hands make themselves busy once she sits back up, loosely braiding her wet hair to get it off her back -- her brown cloak draped over a nearby chair as her burgundy dress slowly dries.

She's fine, really. Don't mind the deer in the headlights expression. It's fine.

Eventually, restlessly, she begins to explore -- finding a bit of paper or a napkin and a writing utensil. Sitting back down, she begins to draw a landscape -- a meadow with a large building in the background as the first cracks of lightning get close and the rain begins to really come down. Something she'll eventually find a spot for to leave behind in case Mal ever washes up on shore. And if the Grey Gull should lose power, she's got a ball of light that looks eerily similiar to a small sun at the ready. ]

wildcard.
anything goes → open.

[ Feel free to hit me up on plurk @ hoopskirts or on discord if you'd like a custom starter or have any questions. ]

Edited 2021-05-25 03:06 (UTC)

[ she understands, it just doesn't make any sense. or it wouldn't if they weren't where they are. max looks back at the house, then back at the other woman, mouth pressed together in thought. ]

Okay, uh...maybe we can find somewhere else for you to wait this out.

Yes, but--

[Whatever she's about to say doesn't end up being said, because at just that moment, honest-to-god lightning hits a tree not twenty feet away from them. Callisto whips around, the electric energy making the hair on her arms stand on end - but rather than running for cover, she switches back to Greek and yells at it.]

Oh, come on! If you're targeting me, show yourself and say something about it!

Jesus -

[ max leaps back and turns from the lightning as it strikes, in stark contrast to the woman, who starts screaming back in greek again. the exact words are difficult for her to make out, but she can discern 'targeting', which - what the hell? ]

What do you mean, targeting? Why would you be targeted?

He doesn't have it in him to put on his brave front. He's fresh out of bravery today, running on an empty gas tank in terms of his tolerance for Mathias's cruelty and just losing that willingness to get up again after getting knocked down over and over again by these mounting setbacks. Doc hasn't even stopped to eat anything today although it's so far from his mind at this particular moment. He's too worn down to stand and be attentive to Malcolm's needs.

"Yes," he eventually says, a small, lone voice in the unending darkness.

"What's wrong? Are we flooded?" Something must be wrong for Malcolm to have come in. Something for Doc to fix. Yes, he is sitting in water, so he is aware that the water level outside has risen enough to spill over the lip of the garage floor and started to seep in. But it is just his unofficially designated room here, and the stockpile of food is on the shelf unit a few inches up from the floor. He has managed to put some old towels around the second fridge, although he's not sure what good that will do if the water level continues to rise. If they have water in the living room or dripping down from the ceiling somewhere like some kind of horror movie though, that's a problem he is more willing to try and muster up the energy to stand up and try to fix somehow.

He hasn't had the pleasure of dealing with that many floods. But for Malcolm, for this house, he is willing to try.

Everything is wrong, but also nothing is wrong. Nothing Doc can fix, anyway. Nothing anyone can fix. Mathias gonna Mathias.

He doesn’t ask if Doc is okay. He’s very clearly not. He can see the makeshift attempts to keep water out. He can see that they’ve failed. He’s sad for it. Not just the garage. Everything they’ve built. Their home. But as has been quite rightly pointed out to him, their home is the people who live in it and - if they have to - they’ll find another when the storm passes or they’ll repair this one. It’s just a house, in the end. Harder to fix broken people.

“We’re not flooded yet and if we get there, I don’t think there’s much to be done about it.”

He ventures into the room, immediately soaking his shoes. They’ll dry. He splashes his way over to Doc. “Come sit in the kitchen,” he says gently, offering his hand to pull Doc to his feet if he’ll take it. “It’s warmer.”

What... is she wearing, first of all. He can’t decide if floral flannel makes her scarier or less scary. But when the crash happens, he runs up the stairs after her.

“Callisto! Wait. We have to get out; you can’t hold the roof!”

He's a lot heavier than Malcolm but the thought doesn't really occur to him. Not much occurs to him when he takes that bony wrist and lifts himself out of perdition and self-imposed exile. At least Malcolm doesn't fall flat on his face. Small blessings.

Dragging his feet through the water, he makes it into the living room and leaves a wet trail from the garage to the kitchen. Out here he's under no illusion that he's not in the well anymore. It's a lot brighter inside the house but his hat helps shield him from the brunt of the glare. They haven't informally assigned seats but Doc always likes the barstool closest to the front and back doors of the house. He feels safest there.

He sits down and as he starts dripping, he notices belatedly that he's made a bit of a mess. His gaze drops to the wet shoeprints on the floor and he clings to the top of his soaked jeans, anxiety settling in his furrowed brows over just-- sitting there... dripping. Doc feels that way about his life sometimes - that he's just drifting on through and upsetting the natural state of things everywhere he goes. His left hand clutches onto his right elbow as though it might stave off the dripping somehow.

Malcolm’s eyes fall to the drips without any concern about them. He ducks his head to press a kiss to Doc’s cheek without knocking his hat off and squeezes his shoulder before stepping around the island, pouring a couple fingers of cheap whiskey he squirreled away into each of one glass tumbler and his melamine mug, pushing the glass towards Doc.

“So this is a new batch of nonsense,” he says, looking out towards the front window. “Callisto’s roof collapsed. She’s fine. Just. Irate.” He looks at Doc, watching his face carefully. “I hope this is all the quiet has been leading up to.”

He's almost reluctant to get his mess on Malcolm but the gesture is nice and before he can do or say anything about it, Malcolm is serving up his favourite drink of the day.

Doc is rather grateful for having the tumbler. He unfurls from his withdrawn pose and places his wet elbows on the edge of the kitchen counter, raisin-shrivelled fingertips rubbing the rim of the glass. Mention of Callisto has Doc cracking a somewhat hollow smile. He never makes eye contact with Malcolm but he is listening and verbally responsive, so. He is at least one level above catatonic.

"She seems like quite an irate lady," he observes quietly, not knowing that Malcolm can communicate with her. Doc has stuck his other head into enough crazy pussy to know when he's encountering one from afar. Yes, he worries for Callisto, but he has enough self-preservation tendencies to know to keep some respectable distance also.

"We could have used this rain last week. Put out the Town Hall fire." And no doubt it would have been a damper, raining on Raylan's impromptu parade. But Doc wouldn't have worried so much about the fire potentially getting out of hand had it been pouring down like this.

“Yeah, she’s a trip. Every time I talk to her, I think I’m making some progress and then she starts snarling again,” he relays with a light laugh. He takes a sip of whiskey. “Warlords, right?”

At the remark about Town Hall, he smiles wryly. “But not the fire in Raylan. I hope he worked something out of his system. I’m worried about him.” He lifts his eyes to Doc’s face again. “And you.”

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062 » that moment of experience / part i

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