063-064 » no matter how much / part ii (group A)

[villagemod]

WHO: Group A members only.
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 063-064
WHAT: Matthias becomes a little larger and a little smaller at the same time.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ DEADLY AVENGER "Raiju"

DAY 063-064
NO MATTER HOW MUCH
“No matter how much suffering you went through,
you never wanted to let go of those memories.”
— Haruki Murakami
At first, in the calm following the storm, nothing seems amiss. When the residents awake, it is to another glorious morning dawning in the unsettling paradise that is Mathias Township. Indeed, it does seem rather glorious that morning, for there is sunshine in a blue sky that has been cleared of any remnant of the angry storm clouds from the day before. But before long, residents will start to notice signs of something being not quite right.

It should be a familiar sensation to most by now.

It begins as just a feeling, a strange hint of something in the air, a nagging voice at the back of the mind. They can't quite put their finger on it but there is something. Something wrong, something that shouldn't be — which is quite a statement in a town where everything shouldn't be. But then the pieces will begin to come together.

A person has gone who ought to be there. This in itself is not a strange occurrence, for many have vanished and then returned, or not. This time, though, it is one person, and then two and three... A dozen people or more have gone, with no trace of their whereabouts to be found.

No resident is alone, thankfully. There are others who also remain: friends, acquaintances, strangers. Others who are just as trapped in this nightmarish place.

As the hours stretch on and residents begin to venture beyond their self-claimed shelters and move about the town, they will find that their fellow captives are not the only things that have vanished. The Chasm is gone as well, the crack in the earth that once stretched across and cut off the western part of town. There is not even the smallest mark to show where it had once been; it has gone so completely that some might wonder if they had merely imagined it.

---

ABOUT THE NEW LOCATIONS
POPPY COTTAGE This bed and breakfast has a sense of casual elegance with the elusive quality of being both sophisticated and comfortable at the same time. Aside from being covered in dust and grime, of course.

PENHEW HOUSE Perhaps familiar to some in Mathias, this grand house is different from any of the others the residents have entered. It looks... new. Fresh. Clean. The usual thick layers of dust and grime that would be caked onto every visible surface are nowhere in sight; this absence may be a relief for some and unsettling to others. There are certainly other unsettling things to be found in this location.

THE OLD CHURCH Barely more than ruins, the property is marked by a crumbled stone outline that has no roof and only partial walls, nothing left inside besides a broken cobblestone floor.

BANEBERRY HALL From the outside, Baneberry Hall seems like your average rich person's house, but one would be mistaken to assume anything of the sort. Even the baneberries that cover the back lawn leading to the forest treeline are deceptive, for they appear harmless but are fatal to any human foolish enough to eat them.

The building is decaying from within. The rooms have begun to rot, from the parlors and libraries still done up in grand and expensive style to the bedrooms that have locks on the doors and bars on the windows. There are restraints in some of those bedrooms, while others are bereft of sharp objects. In the hall closets, there are identical sets of white pajamas of all sizes, and the offices have locked cabinets (that may be picked) full of a rainbow of sedatives (that will not replenish). The names on doors and in logbook lists are all smudged beyond legibility, and all paperwork has been water-damaged and weathered, leaving no indication of who may have been kept in those bedrooms or why. But within each room, there is an item that may be familiar to one of the residents now wandering its halls. As caked in dust and grime as anything else, each item is placed as if it belongs there, as if it might have been there for years. But it couldn't have been... could it?



ABOUT THE ITEMS FROM HOME
Within the unsettling walls of Baneberry Hall, residents may find OBJECTS that are uncomfortably familiar to them. Each item has one singular memory attached to it that, when touched in any way, will be experienced first hand, as if the person receiving it had lived it themselves. This person will endure all of the associated emotions and psychological reactions to the memory that the memory's owner experienced.

— Items may only be found within Baneberry Hall. These items from home are not all in one room or a specific location but instead are scattered throughout the bedrooms. (Only the items on this list are available to this group.)

— Ownership and possession of the item are important elements to this event. While the item is in possession of someone who is not its owner, it will continue to infect all who touch it with the memory that belonged to its owner. The item will also, before long, begin to make the possessor ill, both physically and emotionally uncomfortable and upset. This only occurs until the item is reunited with its owner, or until it is no longer in someone else's possession. (For example, if Person A finds Person B's teddy bear and carries it with them, they will continue to experience the bear's associated memory until they no longer have it in their possession, whether this means they have left it somewhere or it has been returned to Person B.)

— Recipients of memories will retain those memories even after the event has ended.

— When the owner of an item finds their item or has it returned to them, they will also experience the memory once themselves, having it returned to them as if they had just lived those moments again. The memory is only replayed once in their minds and then the memory effect of the object is gone. After this point, the item can be held by the owner or any others without consequence.

— If a person removes an item from its room in Baneberry Hall but does not remove the item from the property entirely, the item will be mysteriously returned to its original location when no one is looking. This is so that people do not have to keep close track of where items are going in the possible changing of hands, so the original owners can still easily locate the item without having to plan in great detail. Once an item is removed from the property, it will not return to its original location even if it is discarded by the possessor before reaching its original owner. Instances such as this should be planned among all involved parties, including the owner of the item.

— Once an item is removed from the property, please comment below so that information may be updated. Items that are not removed by the end of the event may reappear at a later time, so accurate records are essential.

— Before an item's memory is viewed by someone other than the owner, permission must be granted or requested for that memory to be viewed by another character. Because the experience is an uncomfortable one for the other characters, the viewing of memories not their own should ideally be kept to a small number.

---

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 new boundaries.

— 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 from the western section of town entirely.
— 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 AND DEATHS continue! Yennefer, Number Five, and Tony Stark have vanished and Ellie is still missing, though this may be difficult to tell with half the town also seemingly having vanished. Will Graham's body may be found within the ruins of the Old Church; he appears to have been frightened to death. (If someone decides to take care of the body, please report it below. For in-game reasons, this does not need to be coordinated across groups.)

— 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 yet another amazing new map of Mathias!

— 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 For those who don't know, I run a summer program that is set to start in just 2 weeks. We've only recently been given the green light to go ahead in person, so it's a scramble to get everything pulled together in time. My non-RP life is going to be busy and chaotic for the next while and I am thus asking for your forgiveness and understanding as things continue to be slow, as I cannot guarantee timely mod responses beyond weekends, and even that is not guaranteed.

— NEXT LOG Because of the aforementioned real-life chaos, the next log will be more relaxed and free form with everyone coming back together again and having a few chill days. It would be very much appreciated if some of the more intense investigations could be saved to take place in future logs, as the new locations that are opening up in this log will remain open in the next few at least and there will be plenty of time to explore all their mysteries.

— ITEMS FROM HOME The items from home remaining in Baneberry Hall will not be available past this log, at least not in this form, so if you would like to play with these elements, you should not sleep on this opportunity. More things may show up in the future but, for now, this is the main event.

— DW NOTIFS Back at the beginning of the year, the issue of missing email notifs was discussed in a code push plurk by Mark of the DW admin team. For those who missed it, the gist is that the issue with missing notifs is not going to be fixed anytime soon. The issue is so sporadic that the dev team has concluded the only way to possibly fix it is to redo the notification system entirely. This issue does not extend to DW's internal inbox, so short of checking every thread you're involved in, the DW inbox is the best way to make sure you're not missing things.

— ACTIVITY CHECK Beginning with June's AC (posted at the start of July), all tags that consist of only dialogue will count as 0.5 comments, not just those that occur in an inbox thread. This applies to both AC and AP totals.

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[tinstar]

Raylan had waited as long as he dared before coming back home but the impending darkness encouraged him to get the fuck on before his bad day got any worse. Any hope or optimism he'd had that morning was well beyond spent, and he couldn't quite say where. He did look like shit, and felt worse than that; body screaming at him for whole new reasons on top of all the ones he'd gained from the two nights before.

But sitting still didn't seem to be an option, however much his legs and feet wanted him to. The moonshine helped a little, numbing the outermost senses, dulling the scream down into a subtle roar that he could handle a little better.

By the time Tim propped himself up and spoke, Raylan was more than exhausted, in more ways than one and not nearly drunk enough to be perfectly fine about it all. So the command was enough, the expression on top of it the cherry to ensure that even a wild sarcastic hair wasn't going to show its curly face and the older Marshal dropped down next to him with a heavy sigh, feet sticking out at awkward angles as his lean frame melted down into the couch.

"It's been a long day," he said softly, wishing he hadn't sat his hat down just so he could prop it over his eyes. Rubbing at them would have to do. "I think I might sequester myself and do 85% of nothin' tomorrow."

Beyond what he had to do. The reminder of it thrumming in his jaw. You've got twenty four hours. The fucking irony.

[walkingtrigger]

Tim gently took Raylan's shirt sleeve and tugged.

"On the floor, back against the sofa and between my knees. You're too tall for me to rub your shoulders if we're on an even surface."

For the most part, New York profilers aside, the young sniper could read a room. His partner was radiating tension, anxiety, frustration and something that felt like a healthy dose of fear. The air was almost snapping with mental ozone and the cocktail flavor of someone who needed to talk, and absolutely did NOT want to talk.

[tinstar]

Raylan lifted his head, eyes squinting under pinched eyebrows in confusion as he processed that. "Really?"

It would only take a tug or sarcastic word to get him moving, albeit slowly and with a grunt as he leveraged himself off the edge of the couch and onto the floor, scootching himself over a few inches to settle back between Tim's knees.

"Never took you for someone who did shit like this," he admitted. Not couldn't do this, mind you. Just someone who didn't.

[walkingtrigger]

"That's because I don't," Tim confessed as he shifted pillows around and made himself comfortable so he could focus on Raylan. "You are assuming the risk of ending up a pretzel as a result of my inexperienced hands."

Tim couldn't say where the idea had come from. He'd had a couple massages with happy endings here and there but a platonic shoulder rub? Eh. He'd overanalyze this shit later. Leaning forwards, once Raylan got comfortable, Tim wrapped his arms around his partner from behind and began to undo the buttons over his over shirt.

Though there was an closeness to the motions, the position, the younger marshal's touch was affection, caring but also deliberately lacking in any sort of sexual charge. He wasn't up to that physically and he doubted that Raylan was up to it emotionally.

"Goddamn, Raylan. Mangos are less work to peel."

I need to get more smirky icons

[tinstar]

"Mm, just out here makin' all kinds of expectations, aren't you," he half teased, but there was some gratefulness behind it. "Pretty sure you can't make me hurt anymore than I already do, for whatever that's worth."

The last half of the words were half muttered against the space under Tim's jaw, his tone changing in just a fraction of surprise at the contact and the new task at hand. Helping would have meant letting go of his bottle and he wasn't ready to do that quite yet, settling instead for leaning his head against Tim's, soaking in the steadiness behind him.

No, there was no cell in his body right now that was even fractionally interested in anything more than a chaste affection - he didn't have the bandwidth to that, physically or otherwise.

"Gotta keep up my 'appeal' of mystery." He couldn't help it and it came with a smirk.

I approve of this goal!

[walkingtrigger]

"Figured you would get a head start on the dad jokes?" Tim groused in a pained tone. His hands got down to just above Raylan's naval and he tugged the shirt tails loose, rather than going any lower. Partly because it would put more pressure on his chest but also further support of a caste evening.

He was here to be leaned on. The stalwart presence at Raylan's back, without question. Tim finished up the last of the buttons and leaned back to help his partner shrug out of the shirt. If there was a little joy to be found in the day, Raylan would be wearing one of his ribbed, white undershirts!

"You want me to ask," he offered in a soft voice. His fingers reached to brush at salt and pepper hair while working the over shirt off Raylan. "Or you want to sit here for a bit and drink?"

[tinstar]

Raylan snorted softly, deeply pleased by the groan. "Someone's gotta suffer the 'pun'ishment." Oh, he was on a roll.

The bottle was tucked in between his knees so he could unbutton the last two of his flannel, grunting as he pushed up enough to let Tim help him shuffle it off. There was enough light that Tim could see the new bruises along the back and along the curve of his shoulders, an uneven patchy pattern. But the question was a serious one. A well eyed one and Raylan could only breathe in the smell of Tim's soap and musk and sigh as he leaned back into the couch again.

"Depends on what you're askin'. We talkin' the memory of Negan beatin' a man's head to pulp, or Ainsley seein' me get served my divorce papers, or the beatin' I half took from Neal, or the blonde lady who made me her landin' pad off what's left of the Church roof." The bottle was pulled back up into his hand, the off and empty one settling over Tim's foot. "Like I said.. Long day."

[walkingtrigger]

Raylan earned another groan and a light tug to his hair for that last pun. "You're only doing this because I can't get up and run away."

As the over shirt was set aside Tim looked down over broad shoulders and winced. Not his usual response to Raylan's shoulders, but the man had definitely been collecting more bruises. Gun calloused fingers brushed gently over the abused skin, looking for any lacerations or evidence of a cut or scrap that needed cleaning. He didn't feel anything that posed an immediate risk and he didn't want to disturb the older man unnecessarily.

Brushing his fingers up through the older man's hair, Tim started to work the muscles at the nape of Raylan's neck with his thumbs. Despite his rough exterior, the shit talk and the ferocity they could get at one another when in bed, Tim didn't dig into the knots. Sure a deep tissue would have worked the knots, but it would also hurt. Neither of them were in any hurry, that he was aware of, so he could take his time and coax muscles rather than batter them into submission.

Slowly rolling his thumbs up and down corded muscle, he reached with his fingertips to rub along Raylan's skull, down behind his ears and along his the back of his jaw.

"And I thought my day was eventful," he said in a low tone, making an attempt to keep the environment around them low key. "Three of those things is a day ending in Y for the likes of us, so would I be right to assume the beating from Neal is the outlier?"

[tinstar]

The tug even got a chuckle; progress already to his dour mood. Maybe he was doing it just because Tim had opted to allow himself to be 'trapped' in such a way.

Tim's skill was clearly in more than guns with the way he chose to start on Raylan's neck, earning another sigh that was edging more towards relaxed as he gave his head over to those talented fingers, chin lifting a fraction as Tim's fingers got under his jaw. Slow and easy was the way to come at Raylan's muscles because going to hard would only have him tenser for it in the end.

"Don't let his size fool you, he's solid. Can throw a punch too, but he's not meant to be a scrapper. If I wasn't at half steam, I woulda come outta it better.. It's part of why I think I'm gonna stay on the other side'a town tomorrow night. Probably better that I don't show my face on this street for at least a night or two. Maybe you oughta join me, if you don't mind everyone knowin' where you are if you're not here.." Something else occurred and Raylan reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "If you don't mind the threat of gettin' swung on by stayin'."

How much of that made sense without the rest of the context only Tim could say, but Raylan wasn't exactly thinking clearly enough to include everything.

[walkingtrigger]

"Both New Yorkers have some serious power behind their arm," he agreed in a tone that was genuinely impressed.

If it wasn't so obvious that Raylan was having a very bad, no good day, Tim might have pointed out the number of times the older marshal got in over his head and got the shit kicked out of him. But today didn't seem the day for it, so he held his tongue and processed what Raylan was saying.

As he listened he began to work the tension downwards and along the tops of the older man's shoulders. Following the line of the collarbone with his thumb he worked with the grain of muscles. Applying friction to warm and then steady, repetitive pressure to sooth and encourage blood flow.

"Might as well give em the opportunity to get their licks in while I can't fight back," he said, using both long fingered hands to work on either side of shoulder and top of the torso. Even at full strength, Tim didn't see himself throwing a punch at Neal or Malcolm. "I'll go anywhere you go, Raylan," his gut told him the older marshal needed the honest verbal assurance. "If it's what you want."

The last bit was both a question and a statement. Something was up, something big and Tim had an idea what it might be, but he was giving Raylan time to get there himself. If it was what he assumed he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that Raylan would come out of that conversation wanting anyone breathing the same air in the same space.

Sitting up he placed one hand on the powerful muscles branching off from the neck to the shoulder and began to rub with his fingers. His thumbs pressing and rubbing from top towards bottom, along the defined column of muscle on either side of Raylan's spine.

"That why Neal punched you?"

[tinstar]

Raylan clucked softly in disagreement, disapproval, head turning a fraction like he was looking over his shoulder but he wasn't going to dare suggest that Tim's fingers should stop what they were doing. It was the first and only thing that wasn't coffee or moonshine that made him feel even half human or any fraction of good.

"I wanna know what kind of person you throw Malcolm over for."

I'll go anywhere you go, Raylan, if it's what you want.

"You don't have to do that. Not when you're not in the shape to defend yourself. If Neal doesn't understand, h-." Raylan paused, jaw working a little. "He punched me because he loves Malcolm. He punched me because he views this.. This without Malcolm knowin' as cheating." Raylan looked back into his lap, eyeing his bottle again.

"You wanna hear the funniest part?" And it was funny on some level. "He gave me twenty four hours to tell Malcolm or he will." Which was the real root of what he was suggesting. "I have to tell him tomorrow. I don't want to do it here. Stain the whole block with the ghost of a bad memory."

He didn't mind telling Tim, as raw as it all was. He wanted to trust Tim with all this, with the interior details. To really be able to count on that steady back up presence and trust it with the care of the soft parts of it.

"I'm sorry, Tim. For puttin' any of this on your plate."

[walkingtrigger]

Though he fell quiet for a bit, as he unpacked everything Raylan had just shared, the younger marshal's fingers continued to move. They slid down over ribbed cotton and rubbed with enough firmness to keep the fabric from scratching skin as he worked the long powerful muscles of the older man's back. There was only so far and so much he could do from this position, but it was a little bit of attention there before he came back up to shoulders, arms and neck.

Long, strong fingers slid back up into the older marshal's hair. Tim had taken note of how his partner had leaned into the head rub and he was more than happy to oblige. Fingertips traced the hairline to the middle of the forehead, rubbing in firm but not to heavy pressing circles outwards towards the temples and then down the line of Raylan's strong jaw.

"Let's be clear about a thing," he began in that low, accented rumble. "I wouldn't give this, give you up, for all the trouble in the world." He hoped that Raylan knew the truth of that statement. It wasn't just about what they had found here, together in Mathias. But even back home, when Raylan charged in where angels feared to tread, Tim was always right behind him no matter what came blowing back their way. Bullets, a pissed off USAAG, furious Feebs, Art wanting both their asses in a sling.

"It can be a hell of thing," he continued after a moment, eyeing that bottle of moonshine. What he was about to do was something that usually happened in soft whispers, behind the safety of the bedroom door. But then purposefully putting his focus on being able to touch Raylan like this. "To love someone, who doesn't see you in that way." He was assuming here, drawing a speculation from the evidence he had. "It's easy for the ache to amplify emotions, especially towards people who have that someone's attention, but don't appear to appreciate it."

Tim paused and then sighed softly. Though it hurt his already aching torso he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Raylan's upper torso, hooking his chin on his shoulder.

"I harbored a lot of anger towards Winona, and Lindsey. Spent a lot of time seeing things one way before getting my head out of my ass and reminding myself of a very important fact." He kissed Raylan's cheek and slowly sat back to reapply his fingers to the muscle group around the neck and top of the shoulder.

"I had to remind myself, that as much as I love you, you are not perfect," he shared, in an affectionate tone. "You got flaws, some pretty substantial ones, just like the rest of us. You try not to be an asshole, but sometimes you fail and there was no fairness in me laying everything at Winona and Lindsey's doors."

Well ... Winona did have a habit of really piling on to her own grave.

"Then I realized what was important in all that," he continued. "That even in the mess, the mistakes, the imperfections and the out and out bullshit. I love you. Not some idealized version of you I made up in my head."

Resting one hand on Raylan's shoulder, he lifted the other and tenderly stroked back mused, dark hair.

"Give Malcolm a chance to do the same," he said softly. "It's gonna be hard, for both of you, but let him see you off that pedestal he's put you on and give him a chance to be in love with you."

[tinstar]

That little bit of attention was already doing wonders for his neck and his mind, eyes sliding closed somewhere along everything as he sank into a relaxation he knew was going to be short lived, relatively speaking. He was putty in Tim's hands, letting him roam and wander with all that wonderful massaging pressure, only exerting enough effort to keep his chin from sinking and his hairline in reach.

Raylan hummed a note of acknowledgement at 'Let's be clear about a thing', one eyebrow uselessly lifting in curiosity and it all melted into a softly pleased smile. It sounded nice, and he wanted to believe it with everything but he knew better. Even with reassurances, he knew better. The memory that godknows how many people actually saw was proof enough as to why.

But it was nice to hear and he knew that it wasn't a reassurance Tim often, if ever, gave to anyone else.

As he moved onto his opinions about Neal, Raylan sobered but he was glad to hear some kind of opinion on it, some kind of company in his understanding and general knowledge. Some compassion for Neal from it. He knew Tim wouldn't use it against Neal. Hoped might be a better word; there was no guarantee what either of them would look like if one of them started taking strips off the other. That didn't make what Tim was saying any less right.

Tim slid his arms around Raylan and he couldn't help the lean of his head against blonde or lifting his hand to settle it over Tim's forearms in response, squeezing softly because doing so harder would have hurt himself. Raylan still didn't know who Lindsey was beyond context given - He'd assume blonde and has fucked him over. Those seemed to be the prerequisites for Raylan's type.

Raylan almost asked what he had done. The fingers on his neck soothed off the idea. He was surprised, in all honesty, to hear such a kind sentiment towards Malcolm's chances and he hooked his arm over Tim's knee, half hugging his shin with his palm as he rubbed his thumb up and down.

"We'll see if he sees it the same way. I didn't want to do it so quickly, wanted to be in better general shape for it but." He took a deep breath, eyes sliding closed again. "Either way, this is better than him walking in. I know I'm.. breakin' all the rules. I know 'I didn't mean to' doesn't carry much weight. Not when I'd try to pull the moon from the sky for any one of ya."

He took another deep breath and opted to take a break from that topic. It would go how it would go and he couldn't do anything other than cast his dice and see what came of it.

"Quid pro que, Clarice.. You said your day was eventful. What happened?"

[walkingtrigger]

Tim had known going in that it would be action rather than word that would help Raylan understand the depth of emotions for the older man. It was why Tim had walked into the whole mess knowing that if things went to hell, while he might want to retreat first to protect his heart, he would hang in there until Raylan told him it was over.

He had been gearing up to speak to the older marshal's comments about Malcolm, but when Raylan made the hard change of topic, Tim knew better than to press. He continued to rub his fingers through salt and pepper hair, then downwards to broad shoulders; rubbing and soothing.

"Eh, feels kinda pedestrian now," he said in a wry tone. But his next words came with a soft sort of compassion. "Saw Callisto's memory. That's a hell of a thing for a child to live through, then have to live with and I don't expect there was anyone around to protect her. Also saw Neal's memory. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. I don't envy him the situation he found himself in, there's no ready answer to any of that." He talked from the perspective that Raylan had also encountered these memories, figuring if he was wrong the older man would let him know.

"Found Malcom climbing the walls of that big building, like a squirrel on meth looking for nuts," the description was if not fond, understanding. "He helped me get back here after I realized I'd over estimated my mobility. I tried to talk to him a bit about you. Pointed out to him that you need him, like he needs you."

[tinstar]

Raylan knew that talking about Malcolm, talking about what it was with Malcolm was not something easily done, for either of them. He wasn't used to baring that much of himself, leaving it free to be commented on, to be seen by everyone else and jesus did he feel Seen. Too much, sometimes. Like he was laid out on some rack for anyone with eyes to pass and pass judgement on him.

Better to change the subject for now. Except that in such a small town, it was hard to get away from anyone, even in conversation.

"It's not pedestrian," he started, hand squeezing gently. "Nothin' about either of those were that." Callisto's was terrifying, Neal's was.. disappointing is the word that Raylan would go with, personally. "Neal could have at least made a different choice but.. I suppose we all have those moments." He took another deep breath before continuing.

"And how'd that go? Was there a lot of baring of teeth?"

[walkingtrigger]

"As shit as my childhood was, I cannot even imagine what she went through or how she survived. Don't know if anyone can be reasonably expected to keep a sane thought in their head when they have that waiting for them when they close their eyes." Lifting one hand he began to stroke his fingers through dark hair, a carding motion that was as much self soothing as meant to be soothing for Raylan.

"I get the impression that when Neal is always looking to keep a parachute on his back, ready to pull the ripcord if he gets trapped. Sitting still is as debilitating for him as it is for you and Malcolm."

That brought them to Raylan's final question. Tim curled a strand of hair around his finger, looking down at the top of the older man's head as he thought back to the conversation. He weighted sharing it against the fear that he would just sound like a whiney broken record. In the end fear won out.

"I kept my teeth to myself," he assured his partner.

[tinstar]

"She survived because that's what we're built to do. Humanity in general. Especially people back then. Less expectation for rights or the soft ways we expect things oughta be." It was a harsh way to look at it all, a harsh way to understand it but if anyone was going to it, it would be him. Him and Tim, at least. Another deep breath and his eyes slipped closed. "It's no wonder she's as ugly about life as she is, I'll grant her that."

His head tilted into the stroke of Tim's fingers and hummed a note of acknowledgement. "Maybe. Maybe.." He didn't quite believe it. Neal could have told Moz no. Could have agreed to find a different way or a different market. All without breaking the trust of the people that had let him into their home. Raylan's jaw and ribs throbbed in reminder of a similarly broken trust.

An eyebrow was lifted at that answer and he hummed again. "And yet you aren't tellin' me how it went."

[walkingtrigger]

When Raylan closed his eyes, Tim took the opportunity to start rubbing circles around the older man's orbital bones and sinuses. He was quiet for awhile, before he exhaled a careful sigh.

"I don't know what to tell you," he began. "I tried to hold a give and take conversation, I tried being open, and answered a personal question he put to me." Tim paused in the face rub and dropped his hands to Raylan's shoulders. "His response was that I needed to do better about letting people help me."

Tim was struggling not to convey how dismissed he'd felt by Malcolm's response. He knew that it had to be something wrong with him. Everybody kept telling him how sweet Malcolm was but every time Tim talked with the man he ended up feeling criticized; like he was shit the profiler found on his the sole of his shoe.

[tinstar]

Raylan knew better than to push, knew that he had to give Tim the room to find his words, even if those words were 'Fuck you, that's how it went.' He let his own few seconds of silence linger while he picked up Tim's off hand with his own and pressed a kiss into his palm.

"What was the question?" Context before opinion. Doing otherwise always got him into trouble. There was no way that Raylan himself was going to fix anything, but he could listen. Try to help, in whatever way that was. He was running out of options.

[walkingtrigger]

Tim wanted to tell Raylan.

He wanted to lay all of it out. The question, his answer, the way Malcolm made him feel even though Tim knew it had to be in his head, because that's what everybody kept telling him. He wanted to confess his insecurities and his fears and he ached for the older marshal's reassurance.

But even as he considered how to answer Raylan's question, Tim knew he wasn't going to share any of it. Because he couldn't tell Malcolm that he was afraid of relying on another person, then go dump all his shit at Raylan's door and rely on the older man to make him feel better. Not with everything his partner had coming on his own plate. Tim couldn't run his mouth about wanting to help protect Raylan and then throw more over his shoulders.

No matter how broad and well shaped.

Lowering his hands, letting them slide down the older marshal's chest, Tim hooked his chin on one of those broad shoulders.

"I love you, Raylan." He said softly. "But that is for Malcolm and I to work out between ourselves, and we will. I know you've been pushed onto a timeline not of your own making. You focus on your relationship with Malcolm. I'll take care of mine. All you need to remember is that we both love you."

[tinstar]

It was with a reluctance that Raylan gave Tim's hand back but he did and tilted his head to one side with a hum as Tim slunk back around him. There was so much here, he could feel it and he couldn't fix it. It was as frustrating as it was soft and while Tim was absolutely right, Raylan still felt his heart twist at the words.

"Tim. Darlin'." He pressed a kiss against Tim's temple and rested his head against the sniper's with a deep breath. "You've already got too many secrets. And I've already been in this since the beginning. You don't want me to say anything, I won't but.. Let me in to that head for a few minutes, huh?"

Before he proved Malcolm's point. It was a little ironic that Tim was responding to the accusation by refusing the most trusted hand that was cast out to him.

"Let me help carry just a little of it." Everyone assumed what was on his shoulders. No one asked. No one let him have a voice in all of it. He didn't like decisions about him being made around him. He didn't like to feel excluded from his own people via this kindness they thought they were gifting him.

[walkingtrigger]

"Don't think I'm ever gonna get over you calling me, Darlin'." Tim whispered softly as he returned Raylan's lean, breathing in the older man's comforting scent. Even if it was kissed with sweat and the dust of the day.

It was ironic. Everybody out here trying to protect Raylan and Raylan would be annoyed with the lot of them if he knew. Tim should know better, but this whole attempt at a relationship for the first time in his life had him being a little stupid.

"I pushed myself too far today," he began. "There is more damage than I originally suspected. Malcolm helped me get back here, poured me on the couch. He asked if I needed any help to the bathroom and I made a joke about having missed my weekly crawl of shame.

I could tell he wanted to ask me something before he left and I invited him to ask," trying to be open, trying to establish that conversational connection. "He asked 'Why did you leave 1306 this morning, where lots of people would be willing to help you out, so you can be here by yourself, crawling to the bathroom?'"

A fair question.

"I tried to explain how terrifying it is for me to be at the mercy of anyone. I explained about my mother, and my father. How I grew up. Information I haven't even talked with you about. I was trying to show him why ... I tried to let him inside my head." It was as good a description as any.

[tinstar]

"Don't think I'm ever gonna stop callin' you that," he whispered back before heaving a deep breath. He wanted to keep and protect Tim, from all the dark corners. Of Mathis, of his own mind, of the job they shared. All of it.

But Tim was right. He would be annoyed. Mainly because that protection didn't seem to include a lot of conversation with him about it. Something in his chest unclenched as Tim started talking and his eyes drifted closed again as he listened.

Tim trusted him enough to say anyway. God that made him happy. His hands lifted and ran over Tim's forearms, squeezing them gently.

"Understandin' why doesn't mean we can't hope for a little change," he finally answered after a long second. "Objectively, he might have been right. That's no slight against you. It's not your fault, what they did. Or what Arlo did... We were kids, Tim." His heart broke for them both. "What else were we supposed to do."

[walkingtrigger]

Might as well be shot for a sheep as a lamb, as the saying went. Tim closed his eyes and lay his cheek along Raylan's shoulders, relaxing as best he could in their current configuration.

"My mother was an addict, Raylan and we're not talking weed or even Oxy. If she was shooting heroin it was a 'light' day." He wasn't sharing this for sympathy, but because it would illustrate the situation more clearly for Raylan. Both of them, in their jobs, saw what happened with the kids of addicts. "I was never a kid. I was cooking for myself, cleaning up after myself ... fuck sake I potty trained myself."

There was no childhood for kids like him, like Loretta McCready. Kids who grew up not only neglected but also having to be the parent in the parent/child relationship.

"I know understanding doesn't negate hoping for change," he continued. "I just ... I don't know, Handsome. Maybe I'm being childish in wishing for a little recognition that I'm trying. Rather than keep getting told I'm not doing good enough."

[tinstar]

Raylan slid his hand up and into Tim's hair as the sniper finished, hugging their heads together. He couldn't solve any of that learning how to adult too soon either, but he could listen. He could do that.

"You're not being childish." Raylan always wanted it too, that recognition, and it very rarely ever came without a kick in the gut follow up of 'You're not X enough'. Just because he had gotten used to living without it didn't mean he didn't understand the feeling.

"There's no good enough mark to be aimin' for. You did a good job in answerin' him. 'M sure it wasn't easy. Thank you for tryin'." He hoped Tim wouldn't stop trying. Either of them.