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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Raylan's voice was distinctive and usually Tim had no problems picking it out from a rabble rousing crowd. But the storm felt like it had spooled up into an absolute fury, that would not countenance the idea of being ignored.

It wasn't until the older marshal got ahold of his jacket, an action that could have proven unfortunate for both of them if Tim had tried to throw Raylan off. But his partner's voice, right against his ear settled his defensive instincts and he leaned towards the man until Raylan's lips practically touched his skin.

Turning towards the other man, the Ranger reached to grab at Raylan's shirt as if this might be the only way they could ensure the storm didn't rip them apart as they talked.

"The lighthouse," Tim's voice tended to deepen, when he pitched it high enough to command a room full of perps, or in this case over a town pitchin' a tantrum. "Tried ducking into two buildings, they both got about torn apart. Building I was just leanin' against took a direct lightning strike. Starting to feel personal. Thinking I'd get closer to the source and maybe have a proper conversation!"

Edited 2021-05-27 14:39 (UTC)

The first jerk of Tim under his hand only hurried Raylan and his already dripping wet lips to very nearly the shell of the sniper's ear, and he was happy that Tim was aware enough to not kick his ass right there in some defensive flashback snap. The grip back around him helped steady them both as the wind shoved its screaming power at them, keeping Raylan and his no traction boots from slipping once again.

He really needed to get a new pair to wear down.

"Same thing happened to me. Wiped out the first house and damn near blew over the second. You sure we just ain't unlucky?" Raylan lifted his head a little bit to try and look at the lighthouse. "You ain't doin' that by yourself!"

But if they could taunt Mathis into destroying herself in any fashion, Raylan was into it. There were no cooler heads to prevail here.

"Only path I know is through the woods." Meaning if Tim knew a different way, lead on.

Raylan really did need better footwear, a fact Tim might point out after all this was over. For the time being he tightened his grip on the taller man, pulling Raylan around to shelter him from the wind, as he used the firm tread of his combat boots to help them both anchor in place as they talked.

"No reason it can't be both!" Tim responded with a rueful but also shit eating smirk. Neither of them were the luckiest men to walk the Earth after all.

"We could go along the beach, from the Gull. Lot of rocks and then a climb up the cliff but at least there is no risk of a killer fog being blown in our face?" No just the risk of the angry ocean reaching up and plucking them off the rocks like a couple of idiot sand fleas.

If they weren't getting beaten half to death by wind, Raylan might enjoy the push and pull that they were engaged in to stay in one spot, the both of them using most of their muscles for it. It was good that they were in shape. If they weren't, Mathis would have been working on fixing that.

Raylan couldn't help the reckless grin that was sighed away with a bob of his head before he nodded and jerked his head towards the Gull.

"Tree's'd give us better cover but I don't trust her. We can try, c'mon," he directed, turning Tim and judging by the grip of his hand, with no intentions of letting the man go. Part of him worried that if they did, a sheet of rain would come in separate them somehow.

If it was wrong to find a sliver of enjoyment in an otherwise chaotic situation, then Tim did not want to be right. This was the closest, physically he'd been with Raylan when they weren't behind closed doors and he found that he liked it. Probably a bit more than he should but the younger marshal gave that thought the finger. He liked it. Period.

But they did need to get moving. Raylan's reckless grin was met with a devilishly bounce of eyebrows. Usually Tim was the level headed one between them, but to a lesser extent he was beginning to feel that same frustrated itch under the skin that he knew plagued Raylan. The desire to be in motion, to take action. Fighting against an unnatural storm with a clear objective in mind had to be wiser than burning down a building; right?

Tim fell into step with the fluid ease that came from similar training and years out in the field covering each others' backs. He kept a firm grip on Raylan in return as they both turned into the wind and began to fight their way towards the Gull. It was slow going, and physically laborious with no little danger involved simply from being out in this mess but as the Gull came into view, Tim started to laugh.

"This is harder than finding a virgin at Audreys'!"

"Who said we never loved a challenge!" Raylan answered, vowels longer and more country solely because of how he had to project his voice. As much as he wanted to say 'Hey, lets pause somewhere like the Gull, take a minute to catch our breath,' he could guess that Mathis wasn't going to let them. Pushing on was their own real option now that they'd chosen this course.

He was glad that Tim was feeling it, even as much as he wasn't; he wanted to keep Tim safe, he knew that Tim wanted to keep him safe in return, but they weren't either of them able to hide out from life and this was part of it. Danger was the shit they did, day in and day out. Being in Mathis hadn't taken Raylan's balls, that was for sure. Wasn't going to start handing them over now.

"Gonna be harder out on the sand! Better keep against the rocks when we get there." Which wouldn't have been long if every step into the slowly vanishing dirt street was getting softer and less sturdy. Raylan could already tell he was going to bust his ass at least once.

Once they got closer to the Gull, Raylan hollered for Tim to hold on and paused long enough to peel off his boots, tossing them up onto the Gull's porch. There was no telling if they'd be there when he got back but like hell was he eating dirt today in front of Tim or in this weather. The risk of his feet getting cut up or stepping on something sharp was lesser out on the sand.

Now they could go.

They were a pair. Each with perfectly good reasoning to turn back (keeping the other safe) and each with the bit between their teeth and raw stubborn determination to come out on top of a situation. They were both idiots and with no Art or Rachel to rein them in? They could be each others' better angels or demons. Today it seemed demons won out.

"Ifn' I'd know you needed your stilettos for this dance I would have brought them from the house!" The wind nearly swept away his voice but the years of yelling over chaos, listening out for the yelling over chaos, served him well.

The humor being tossed back and forth was genuine, but it was also edged. This was one of the first ways in which he and Raylan had connected back home. The sharp edges that manifested as an angry humor. Somehow, rather than cut one another they fit together and had found their first common ground of give and take. It was comforting in its own way.

As they reached the beach it quickly became apparent that they were going to have to move in single file. Even then they were going to be at risk of tide surge but to Tim's eyes it looked like they could make the rock line. The Ranger moved into point position much the same as he usually breached the door first when the Marshal Service took a room.

Raylan's snort of amusement was lost in the wind but clearly he didn't take any offence. This kind of back and forth was natural for them and one of the things he enjoyed about their working relationship. Being able to give each other some friendly shit kept things fun and kept them from going too soft into their own thoughts while they were on a case.

No room for breakdowns or ego trips or any of that other bullshit when they were on the job.

The beat of the wind was more than enough for Raylan to fall in line behind Tim, one hand still fisted into the fabric at the back of his shoulder so that he couldn't lose him. Raylan didn't know where they were going but he trusted Tim and that's all he needed. It was only as they got to the rock that Raylan really started to think about this idea.

"Strong gust'll knock us off, you think we got enough room?" he said, stepping forwards again to get his voice closer to Tim's ear.

"Sure," Tim responded, perhaps a little too quickly.

Usually he was the level-headed one in this partnership and his gut was starting to twist in ways that suggested this might not be a good idea. But he was feeling particularly stubborn and the Ranger in him was loath to call a retreat.

Steading himself and very much aware of Raylan's grip at his shoulder Tim began to carefully set his feet and climb. The first few steps gave him hope, but as they picked their way higher, the wind seemed to become even more determined to blow them over towards where the waves were crashing higher and higher up the shore line.

'Sure', he says, Raylan thought to himself but they were already pressing up onto the rocks and the older Marshal was forced to let go of Tim to grip slick fingers onto the rough surface. It seemed fine for about a minute, Raylan blinking the water out from his eyes as he tried to find similar handholds that had let Tim go before him without issue.

But the harder the wind blew, the harder it was to stay clinging desperately to the rock face and the first slip of Tim's boot had Raylan shouting at him, slapping at his arm with a one handed desperation that went right back to clinging to the rocks. This was too much. The storm following them was going to tear them off and cast them into the sea like Bucky had done.

"We gotta go back! It's too windy, we're gonna get killed." The only reason Raylan hadn't fallen off yet was the way his toes were gripping at the rock too, providing him more grip than his boots could have ever afforded him.

Raylan's cowboy boots couldn't provide grip on a level surface. By that was beside the point.

Both of them were good at their job because they were dogged, stubborn, persistent assholes who did not know the meaning of the word quit until it had punched them in the face twenty or thirty times. Tack that on to Tim's Ranger levels of stubborn, the training that said go forward! when all he wanted to do was retreat and the younger marshal was still hell bent on his climb.

"Wait here!" He shouted back, muscles straining as he purposefully forced himself higher and slightly off to the side, out of reach. "I'll find a safe route for you to follow!"

That was his job after all and damn it he was not quitting in the face of this asshole town! Gritting his teeth Tim went further still, growling under his breath as he cursed Mathias roundly. It was after he had put together a particularly graphic string of physical impossibilities that the storm surge crashed upwards and the wind whipped up to an almost unnatural strength.

Like a hand reaching down to spank Tim specifically, the wind gust caught him in the chest and threw him back down towards the reach of the tide below. Sit.Down.Son.

Training kicked in when Tim hit the water. He breathed out through his nose to keep water from rushing up into his sinuses and immediately opened his eyes to orient himself upwards. Beneath the surface it was strangely quiet, compared to above and a small part of Tim thought it wouldn't be the worst thing to stay in the quiet. He quickly decided that was Mathias talking and with an inward growl he kicked and pulled with powerful motions.

His head broke the surface well before he felt a burn in his lungs but Tim took a quick breath all the same. His eyes burned from the salt but a push from the tide, threw him forward far enough that his feet brushed rocky bottom. Good, he hadn't fallen too far out, he could do this.

Snarling through clenched teeth, the younger marshal pitted his body against the tide, fighting his way back to land. It was touch and go, Tim refusing to admit that he was tiring with a quickness, when a wave came in behind him. The wave was powerful enough to throw him towards the shore. That was the good news. The bad news was the power also slammed him into the rocks, hard enough to steal his breath as he was briefly pinned.

Tim felt his body start to tumble back into the water when a second surge lifted him up like a ragdoll and then pummeled him down into the shoreline. Like an unfortunate sock in the wash, the water pounded down across his body with bruising force, before the tide rolled him across the rough bottom, eventually spitting him out on the beach close to the Gull.

Wait here?

"Kiss my ass!"

There was no telling Raylan to wait and hold onto his skirts while Tim pushed ahead like he didn't know, see or survive his fair share of danger. After working with the man for so long, Raylan had assumed that that particular lesson was well learned, but apparently not. For now, he would squarely blame Mathis and her influences, cussing the town up one side and down the other as he moved himself along the rockface in time.

If only he'd known that Tim had been cussing too.

They were probably both lucky that Raylan was just out of arms reach - he wanted to grab Tim, to stop him but everything seemed to be working against him. His fingers already ached, his arms and core screaming at him as loudly as the wind, and his clothes felt heavier for all the water they had absorbed. But there was no turning back unless he knew Tim was coming with him and the stubborn asshole was-

The next gust of wind had Raylan gasping for his breath, head ducking a little into the protection of his arm, but in that half second, Tim had vanished. It only took a sweep of his eyes to see the dark dot fading into the mist and suddenly, Raylan couldn't move. Having never been up this way, he didn't know what it looked like down there without a raging storm and his mind, ever creative, supplied an image of Tim sprawled across a rock, battered and broken. Dead, for fucking stupidity. What were they doing up here anyway?

There was another sound in the wind now. It took the Marshal a full three seconds before he realized it was him, screaming. But another gust shoved at him, forcing him to press himself against the rockface, stop his raging symphony. Move, you have to move. One foot in front of the other.

His limbs felt impossibly heavy now, taxed well beyond what he was used to but letting go wasn't an option. Where Tim had gone, Raylan couldn't follow. His only option was to go the other way, work his way back the way that they had came. One hand, one foot at a time, the Marshal started on that work, using his sometimes singlemindedness to his advantage. When the wind picked up, he paused, waiting for it to ebb a fraction before he continued. Time had stopped meaning anything at some point. He couldn't gauge how long it had taken to get up here, but it felt like the way down was never going to end. It was the reality of him knowing it did end that staved off the pelting despair.

When he finally hit sand, Raylan hit his knees and elbows, sheltering his head, not unaware of the supplicant position it was. How she wanted him. For several minutes he just sat there, taking the lashing, catching what he could of his breath over sobs that he could feel but not hear wracking out of his chest. The explosion of rawness wasn't easily contained but he reigned it in with what he knew. Death wasn't permanent here. Didn't have to be. If Tim was dead, maybe the morning would bring him.

If he wasn't - an idea that his pragmatism wouldn't overlook for sake of drama or grief - then the only place he could come up at was the shore line.

Raylan took that ray of logic like a lifeline to force himself up to his feet, to put himself back to work, push against the wind and start the possibly heartbreaking duty of corpse collection. Just like the tunnels, if he could find Tim, drag him up into civilization, he would. Everyone died alone. That didn't mean they had to stay that way, even after they were gone.

'Kiss my ass!' Normally Tim would have shot back something like gladly! But nothing about these moments were normal.

He had already been waterlogged even before he went sailing into the ocean, but now he was waterlogged and sandy as he lay on the beach trying to remember how to breath. The wind howled above him and though it was a level of fanciful that Tim usually didn't allow himself, he believed he could hear the wind telling him to stay down.

Flexing his soaked hands across the wet sand he was barely aware of his fingers forming the universal gesture of retreat. Not unlike Raylan, Tim was staying down; accepting Mathias' superior power and practically apologizing for getting above himself. It seemed as if the wind abated a little, though that could have just been Tim's wishful thinking.

He'd been in enough fisticuffs, car wrecks and other blunt force trauma events to understand that the longer he lay in place the harder it was going to be to get his muscles to move. When it seemed that Mathias had decided he'd been spanked enough, for the time being anyway, the wind and rain no longer pummeling him into the shoreline Tim started to draw himself up to his hands and knees.

By the time Raylan reached him, the younger marshal was still on his knees, sitting back on his heels and looking more than a little dazed. His brain function was not quite to the point of practicality of what to do next. When he saw Raylan, lanky body tilted against the wind, Tim raised a hand in a wave and he would stay on his knees even when the older man reached him.

Blinking up at Raylan, Tim appeared to give it some thought before his lips moved. Whether his partner could hear him or not, it would be easy to read the sentiment. "That was better theory, than practice!"

There were no words for the wash of relief that rushed over Raylan at the sight of Tim on the sand in front of him and the steady stride he'd been working on busted out into a run. There was no energy for waving or yelling, or even being pissed off about them putting him in that position in the first place. Knees and legs already like jello from the climbing, stopping was ungracefully achieved by dropping into the sand next to him.

"We're both stupid sonvabitches you know that?" Even projecting that was a lot and Raylan shook his head. Mathis had no regard for their supplication, waves creeping up to beat at the inches of sand behind their feet and as though she was telling them to not dawdle, lightening struck a handful of yards away, the sound of it's crack deafiningly loud.

Raylan flinched back into action and pushed hastily to his feet to reach down and start dragging Tim up to his, throwing Tim's arm over his shoulder so he could help move them both right the hell along. "We gotta go!"

"Yeah I think I got that memo the third time Art circulated it!" Tim called back, ducking his head slightly in response to the lightning strike.

He reached up when Raylan reached down, accepting some of the assistance but also doing his utmost to balance and carry his own weight. Even once he was on his feet he turned and gripped the front of Raylan's shirt. Tim would insist it was to help the older marshal stabilize but there were shades of an unspoken reassurance being given and also sought in the contact.

Tim was ambulatory enough to follow where Raylan guided them and he did not look back at the ocean that had spit him out. It had been too close to going the other way. When they got off the sand and onto the path near the Gull, the younger marshal leaned towards his partner in order to be heard.

"We could try hunkering down in one of the really dilapidated places? Hard to blow the windows off something that doesn't have windows ... or much of a roof to begin with!"

The grip against his chest was a solid reminder that this wasn't a hallucination or a nightmare, that Tim was still a viable, breathing body next to him and it helped steady him against the violent gust of wind that shoved him into the smaller man. The wind was a great excuse, but Raylan needed it and his own free hand came to fist into the fabric over Tim's stomach.

He was grateful for the immovable ground that met them after the shifting sands - that made moving a little easier, but the wear was still there. Raylan shook his head at the suggestion and leaned in to answer.

"Your first idea wasn't bad, just needs some adjustment. Town Hall or Library? Let's see if this bitch'll hit her own important landmarks." It didn't hurt (though it didn't occur to Raylan) that there were tunnels in both those locations.

"Town Hall," The words came out of Tim before he had a chance to really think about it. The Library was where he had performed his initial stupid stunt in Mathias and he was in no hurry to revisit the scene of his idiocy. Not when his body was still in shock from his current ill advised endeavor.

Unless Raylan asked him another question, Tim would go quiet and put his focus towards keeping his head against the wind and moving with Raylan towards the Town Hall. It was no easy trek, which was why he kept his arm over Raylan's shoulder and his fist in his shirt. At least that would be the answer he gave if anyone spotted them and asked. Silently he fitted himself to the older man's side so close that their legs brushed when they both stepped forward.

Tim would remain like that until they were through the doors of the Town Hall and briefly out of the wind and the rain. Only then did he mutter a comment about floor, as a warning to Raylan before the Ranger's legs gave out and he landed in a wet, sandy heap on the floor.

"Fuck." He said succinctly but with fervent emotion.

Town Hall it was. Raylan wasn't even thinking about the night Tim had off'd himself otherwise he wouldn't have suggested the library, but his brain had been racing for the first alternative structure that would suit their needs. If Mathis aimed to kill them, she'd have to take down her main hall with them.

It took them longer than usual, it seemed like, but Raylan leaned his weight against Tim's and told himself that they could make it. They just had to keep moving.

Once past the doors, Raylan was looking for a place to put them both down at when Tim fell and as pushed as he already was, there was no keeping them upright. Raylan landed on the floor with a hard grunt, followed by a groan as he gave up and rested his head on the dirty stone tile. The reprieve from the storm let the exhaustion that he had been fighting creep into a stronger hold.

"Please tell me you're okay," he managed through heavy breaths. "Anythin' broken or bleedin' out?"

Raylan had wanted to ask out there, but the drive for survival had made him take his own hasty account of Tim's well being, and he didn't see any gushers but Tim would know better.

Sprawled out on the ground not to far away from his partner Tim settled on his back and took a moment to check all four limbs. He was fairly certain there were no cracked bits but it never hurt to check, especially as adrenaline could mask a lot of ills.

"Everything feels intact," he confirmed with a healthy dose of assurance. He could already feel the adrenaline crash moving through him, leaving behind awareness of soft tissue injuries but nothing that made him think internal bleeding.

"I'm going to have some spectacular contusions in a few hours; all the pretty colors," he wasn't looking forward to it, but it came with the job often enough that bruises were cause for ribbings and teasing.

Trying to ignore the icy chill that was settling into his bones as the adrenaline continued to retreat, Tim turned his head towards Raylan and immediately frowned.

"You've got blood on your feet," he began to roll onto his side, moving to investigate. "Where are you bleeding?" Did Raylan have an injury up his leg? The adrenaline came rushing back as Tim envisioned a possible cut near the femoral artery. Those rocks had been sharp and he had no idea how Raylan had come down off them.

Raylan was not ready to be anything other than not moving - he'd be staying right here for another minute thank you very much. His body was still screaming at him from the tips of his fingers to his toes, which was impressive, considering how long his legs were. Everything hurt and he could guess why, so no digging into his senses seemed to be needed.

"You shoulda turned back, Tim, you shouldn't'a pushed ahead," he breathed out, tone thin with his exhaustion, eyes closing as he slacked into the floor. But he hadn't turned back. They hadn't. And now Tim was gonna be looking like a bruised fruit being looked at through a kaleidoscope for at least a week and a half. Raylan was grateful that that was the only thing they had to suffer for their stupidity.

You've got blood on your feet. Raylan frowned and cracked his eyes open, rolling over onto his side so he could shift up to a sitting position. It all came with a groan though, a wince and a slowness that hadn't been there this morning.

"Shit," he muttered at the sight of blood in his footprints, covering the soles of his feet. It was only in the brushing them off that he stopped to look at his hands, red and ragged at the edges, covered in microabrasions. Not enough to stop him from doing anything, but he was going to be sore in more than one way.

Raylan clucked under his breath. "It's fine," he assured. "It'll be fine."

It wasn't going to be fine. Their experiment was tested with a gust of wind that rattled the windows until they explored inwards, causing Raylan to reach out, grab Tim and pull him back down to the ground. The doors behind them gusted open, slamming hard enough to dislodge one upper door hinge and creak threateningly over them.

"If I could have reached it, it might have been valuable," he reiterated stubbornly, refusing to give air to the self doubts that were already crawling out of the shadows to scold him.

When Raylan started to work his way to sitting Tim levered himself up on an elbow. As he saw the damage to the older marshal's feet he hissed and began to push himself to hands and knees.

"Is there a first aid kit in here? We need to clean those lacer..." was as far as he got in his fussing when the explosive sound of shattering glass overrode his words. He went readily when Raylan pulled him down, but also threw himself the short distance between them to get his body between his partner and the flurry of shattered glass caught on the wind now pouring in through their breached sanctuary.

"This town really wants to kill us!" He said close to Raylan's ear, reaching up with one hand to tuck the older man's face into the safety of his chest. "Any other ideas?!"

'If We' sat on the tip of Raylan's tongue but no quarter was being given to them to do something about it, it seemed and any half normal argument was going to have to wait. If he had more than a few seconds to linger on their position, he would have noted how sweet the way Tim cradled and protected his face was, but in the chaos, he could only press himself into the security of it.

"The tunnels! There's one in here," he yelled back, pulling back to glance up that way, wind whipping his long hair around. "Ain't far, c'mon. Worst she can do is flood us down there."

They would have a good few hours of peace at least, right? Hopefully?

Pushing up, one hand fisted again in Tim's shirt - like hell he was letting the sniper get away from him again - Raylan slipped, caught himself and started pushing forwards.

Tim's expression said that he wasn't sure he'd take drowning over getting smashed by a flying tree branch, but at this point he wasn't going to argue. He nodded and pushed up to his feet, doing his utmost not to burden Raylan. He noted the fist in his shirt -his turn to be on a makeshift leash- and he reached for the older marshal when the man slipped. Raylan caught himself so Tim gave him room to move under his own power, though his hands remained in the 'cover the civilian' spread to either side of Raylan's shoulders; ready to take him down to safety.

He didn't know where the entrance to the tunnel was located in this building so all he could do was follow Raylan, stay close and try to protect his back. If the older man was right about the tunnel and they didn't end up drowned, they could pick up the argument where it had been left off.

Raylan pulled Tim down the steps that led into the tunnels, ignoring the paper stuck to one of his feet or the slight rubble that still existed on the steps that made his feet hurt worse. Still, he was nimble for an old man and his long legs made work of the steps two at a time.

They hit flat ground and Raylan kept them moving for another twenty five yards before he stumbled to a stop against the wall, the momentum of it turning him and sliding him down onto his ass where he started laughing. It was fine at first but started to edge towards hysteria before his wide spread legs pulled up, hoisting his weight on the knife's edge of his feet as he buried his face in his hands. The laugh bled into heavy breathing that Raylan had to focus to start to reign in.

"God, now that we're down here, if she caves it in.. Fuck me. I can't die down here."

Even with Raylan being three quarters leg the sniper had usually been able to keep up with him. There were a couple of steps upon which he nearly stumbled but relief he felt when the pounding wind was left above them gave Tim a much needed burst of energy.

It carried him along those twenty-five yards and helped him keep his footing when Raylan suddenly dropped. At first the laughter sounded fairly standard operating procedure for the irreverent humor they all shared around the office. But as it continued Tim looked down at his partner and his brow furrowed with concern.

A cacophony of thoughts crashed through Tim's head all at once, nearly overwhelming him with conflicting reactions. Guilt battled against concern before they twined together into one clear message. Raylan was experiencing a much needed breaking point. Had skidded well past the line of reeling it back, despite what Tim knew would be a desperate attempt to bottle it all up, tuck it back up under the hat.

"Raylan," he said in a tone that projected more strength than Tim might have felt at the moment. Going down on one knee, he didn't stop to ask permission as he gathered the older man into his arms. Drawing Raylan back into the shelter of his chest, practically into his lap he bent his head and pressed his cheek against drenched hair, whispering. "I'm not letting you go. Stop trying to run from me; from yourself. It's okay to hurt."

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