004-006 » it was the possibility of darkness...

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern Mathias.
WHEN: Days 004-006
WHAT: Where has the day gone?
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Graham Plowman "The King in Yellow"

DAY 004
THE DAY OF DARKNESS

For those who ventured out on the third night, the day will look eerily familiar, for this is no day. The sun does not rise in the morning as it should, and the black sky still stretches ominously above them with no stars or moon to light their way. It is impossible to tell either the hour or the passage of time, a truly disorienting experience for those used to the normal cycle of day and night.

Beyond the safety of that initial cluster of houses are three blocks more of residential spaces, along with streets branching off on either side into neighborhoods. There are no lights on in any of these homes, though there are occasional streetlights illuminating the way. The unwilling residents of Mathias are welcome to explore these home, though it is wise to take care of being out in the cold for too long. The temperature hovers near the freezing point, dipping lower the further one ventures down those side streets. At a certain point, the temperature drops sharply and those comforting streetlights blink into darkness. These same conditions befall those who try to walk beyond the Mathias Public Library.

The silence from the start of the unearthly night also continues into what should be day. No sounds travel through that bitterly cold air and while there is no physical impact on any who wander outside, the silence feels oppressive and like the rest of the world has disappeared beyond their small circle of sound and whatever light they carry with them.


A NEW ARRIVAL

A terrible time to arrive in Mathias, surrounded by darkness and freezing cold. The newest resident will find herself shivering awake beneath a streetlight outside the Public Library, with no sign of how or why she has ended up in this unfamiliar place.

Best get inside, dear. It isn't safe in the cold.

DAY 005
NIGHT CONTINUES

There is still no sign of the sun. No moon. No stars. Nothing but darkness and painful cold greets our weary fellows on the fifth day.

Indeed, it seems almost monotonous, like this stretch of hours will be exactly as the last... until it isn't. At unpredictable intervals, the power begins to fluctuate within buildings where it had previously held steady. Lights flicker, central heating stutters, and as the hours wear on, there is the notion at the back of the mind that the electricity may go out entirely. Many houses and buildings in Mathias have fireplaces — it might be a good time to start using them.

DAY 006
SILENCE BROKEN

Across Mathias, the power fails completely. Now our ill-fated friends understand why emergency kits are so easily found in residences and businesses in town. Candles, matches, crank flashlights — these are the only means to light your way if you're foolish enough to move beyond the safety and warmth of a fireplace.

The silence is no longer relegated to the outdoors now, but has seeped inside. Sounds almost seem to be absorbed by the impenetrable blackness, disappearing into its depth so completely that one might begin to believe they never existed. The feeling of utter isolation becomes almost maddening, relief only provided slightly by the company of others. And then, suddenly, within that dark nothingness—

Voices. Indiscernible whispers from within the black, one voice or a dozen, with no source to be found. Lasting a mere second or for minutes or hours on end, coming from any direction or from nowhere at all, heard by only one person or by everyone, there is no shutting them out. Following the whispers is ill-advised, as they may lead away from the safety of a group, or out into the cold and beyond the point of no return.

---

LOCATIONS

THE PUBLIC LIBRARY A large brick building with a string of round lightbulbs draped across the double door entry way, the library resides at the intersection of Phillips Drive and Jackson Boulevard. The building is older than most in this area and coated in more dust than an ill-used library might usually see. There are a number of tall windows throughout the main room that are either broken with glass and debris scattered across a wide stretch of floor or coated in grime so thick that light couldn't penetrate even if there was any. There are lanterns with candles set around the room on lower shelves or the tops of pedestals, and low lamps with green glass are perched on reading tables at one end.

The books are what one might typically find in a small town library - classics, history, dry biographies, but nothing too controversial and nothing published after 1990. But these books are all collected at the front half of the library — toward the back is a different story. Almost as if walking into a different era, the shelves suddenly filled with old leather-bound tomes that smell add a musty smell to the air. Those shelves rise up toward the high ceiling, the tops barely able to be seen with one of the lanterns should it be lit, and as one reaches the very back of the library—

Streaks of soot cover the shelves, or what remain of them, and those along the wall are a blackened mess of what is left behind when books burn. From floor to ceiling, these shelves are a mangled ruin, and there is no way to tell what these books might have contained, or why the fire did not spread further into the room.

THE RESIDENTIAL HOUSES The stretch of new houses mentioned on Night 3 may still be explored as the night continues. Phillips Drive continues on for three blocks past where Mathias's newest residents took shelter, and the cross-streets of King Lane, Stoker Park, and Jackson Boulevard are also open for one block in either direction. Venturing beyond this area is met with painful cold and debilitating exhaustion.

The houses in this section of town are both locked and unlocked, ranging from pristine (if dusty) condition to rundown and falling apart, as if some houses have aged where others have not. The "oldest" houses have been overtaken by rot, interior walls missing whole sections, holes in the floors between levels. There is running water in all the houses in this area of time, but only the best condition houses have working electricity, though the electricity will begin to fail as the night stretches on. The corded landline telephones found within the homes are still working, thankfully, and new sets of numbers (this time without names) are easily found for each block.

As utterly empty as the "newest" houses seem to be, the oldest are... less so. There's a feeling that someone could walk around the corner at any moment. It is almost the sensation of being watched, or of there being thing else there that cannot be seen. Nothing in the houses is disturbed and there are no shadows springing out, so perhaps there's really nothing there at all...

THE BOARDING HOUSE Another large brick building at the intersection of Phillips Drive and Jackson Boulevard, the boarding house occupies the opposite corner from the library and seems to be almost as old as the larger building across from it. There are three stories to the building: the first floor contains the kitchen (fully stocked), dining room, shared living room space, and a half bath; the second floor has four single bedrooms and one full bath; the third floor also has four single bedrooms and one full bath. There is a locked door on the third floor that leads to an attic. Each room is furnished with a double bed, desk, and small table and chairs, and in each room there can be found the clothing and personal effects of the former boarders. The electricity and other utilities in the boarding house function just fine until the power fluctuations begin as in the rest of town.

Room 1 — unclaimed
Room 2 — unclaimed
Room 3 — Daisy Johnson
Room 4 — Max Guevara
Room 5 — Number Five
Room 6 — Phil Coulson
Room 7 — Claire Novak
Room 8 — unclaimed

To claim a house for layout designing/exploration or a room in the boarding house, comment here. House numbers will be generated in response to comments.

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Comments

[40seconds]

[ Coulson's still in investigator mode when John enters the scene. At first, he doesn't turn around because he's still working on getting his soot sample (for all the good it's going to do him) when he notes the other man grabbing up a pinch of ash and putting it on his tongue. The resulting noise gets Coulson to turn around properly. ]

You can tell the properties of something just by tasting it?

[ Maybe that's not the most astonishing thing in the world, but Coulson certainly wouldn't be able to distinguish between book dust and plain dust, for example. If that's the case, then John just might actually come in handy. If he's amenable, of course. ]

[thering]

Spent a long time alone in the dark. I'm used to them. [Hearing voices that is. And it does mean he would not be enthusiastically heeding their words. While it is not something he would ordinarily admit to anyone out loud, well. These are no ordinary times, or circumstances. It's just- the baby's a new one. And the anxiety that's building within himself, all the associations that come with that distressing howl, are also not exactly familiar company.]

You have looked? Everywhere? [Because he may be able to live with himself when he returns another day, sometime soon when there is better light, and find a corpse when he could have helped tonight, but he does not need another burden on his already long list of things he is guilty of. He does not want for Five to be freezing himself to death out here, but he does not want that fate for anyone else either.]

[40seconds]

[ He misses the Bus, but even more than that, he misses the team. Fitzsimmons would be more than useful here, and May would be their eyes and ears, seeing things that most people would miss. He's grateful that Skye- Daisy is here, because her own intuition is valuable and sound, and what's more, she's reliable.

She's rock solid, even though he can tell she's been rocked by something, not including being dropped into this strange world where nothing makes sense and answers are obscured from view. ]

I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? [ He can't heal her injuries, or help with her exhaustion, not when he's just as tired, but he's still going to ask, even while knowing his ability to help is limited. ]

You look tired. [ It's not an earth-shattering revelation, because they all are, but she looks bone-weary and that concerns him. ] Do you think if you laid down here for a little while, you might be able to fall asleep?

[ He doesn't have anywhere to be, so he's not against staying here while she sleeps. ]

[warfares]

It would fit the pattern.

( though, it begs the bigger question: just why go to such lengths? the 'how' is a second, albeit pertinent concern.

he draws a hand across his jaw, thoughts turning back to the grey gull and its frustrating lack of information — which was telling. nobody went to these kinds of lengths without cause. )

Oh?

( his attention is on five, now. dark eyes studying him for a moment, accessing. the force doesn't offer up much insight, which is frustrating, but made all the more so by the fact that he's been on this planet several days now and should have adjusted. )

[fika]

( she gets a withering stare for that joke. )

...

The hell keeps a door sealed after all of that?

( more to the point - what the hell can keep his powers completely out? it's strange - the pull and power surge didn't feel blocked as much just out of reach. it was the familiar telltale lurch of forward motion, a blur of space, calculation and instinct both that's too second nature for him to get wrong.

so what the hell can redirect him back completely? and not only that, but make him feel like he ran a damn marathon? ) - this is going to be a waste of time.

Have you checked the library yet? I'm going to look for records.

[fika]

Why did you decide to renovate? ( five's approach stops near the opening, the apparent product of john's efforts before peering down.

small towns and secrets did go hand in hand, after all. ) It's odd - the rest of the library didn't catch on fire. Looks like it was a sizable one too, so -

( his mind drifts, at the end, as it always does, to his family. the burnt library is close enough to the ruins of home - the smell of paper ashes and old wood and old leather and dust - to provoke a memory, to tumble it together into the necessary association and in the end - he thinks of klaus, and of conjuring the dead.

he hadn't thoughts about it seriously in a long while, and he turns to cast his fellow investigator a sidelong glance. ) - your, ah, spells. Can you...figure out if anyone died?

[tinstar]

He hadn't been sure til the light got closer.

"Maybe not," he agreed easily. He liked Science; it left him with a flexible mind, if shown proof. John was already working on that, cigarette tricks and all. "You find me a real one, maybe I'll change my mind," he huffed, chucking a few more pieces in before stopping to arrange them and their weight a little bit.

"There's a girl here, young thing, maybe 20. Blond hair, goes by Claire. She was talkin' about ghosts and witches and demons and shit. Asked her what she thought was keeping us here. You try to go past the edge of that storm while it was raging?" Raylan shook his head. "Still can't figure that out."

[tinstar]

"A while," Raylan echoed, face unchanging as he adjusted that information in hand with the question given. His eyes narrowed a fraction more.

"2014. Are you suggestin' that you're some kinda..." His finger gestured in a circle uselessly. Yeah, no way he could bring himself, as a rational man, to suggest that Henry was.. Rip Van Wrinkle was the best and only thing his mind supplied and he defaulted back to something he knew was gonna be wrong.

"What year was it for you before you came here?" Maybe that would be an easier way to come at it.

[tinstar]

[He blinks at John before looking back at the fire.]

Do they have a sodium issue or something? Why.. salt? Or- [he continued with a gestured index finger towards John.] - is this one of those 'We don't know why it works, but it does' things, because humans have been doin' that for a while and that's a wagon I'm okay with gettin' on right now.

[fika]

Barely enough of one. ( he smarts, with an annoyed glance down to his wristwatch, a personal sort of spitefulness held between him and the object that told him absolutely nothing useful. and yet, he couldn't bring himself to discard of it, either.

guess there was a proverbial glass eye after all.

he steps further around some debris, scratching the back of his neck. the other unusual note is that the fire seemed to be entirely selective, leaving only the deepest parts damaged at all. a controlled spread, maybe?

a difficult task in what is essentially a house full of kindling.

five begins to go through the half remains of the fire, any sort of book that wasn't entirely consumed by its epicenter. ) Assuming my predictions are right - ( a books gets tossed over his shoulder. ) - subjecting something to a form of localized time reversal could work. ( a few more books, unsatisfactory, are tossed away. )

[chuju]

[ Someone is having a bad day — more than the usual bad day they've all been having since waking up in this weird town, anyway. Daisy leans back against a counter, perfectly okay with just staying out of the girl's way, but at least she can offer some good news. ]

Fresh pot's over there. [ A gesture to the coffee maker by the window, thoroughly cleaned and with an almost full pot of liquid life waiting to be consumed. And then, because she can't not ask: ] You okay?

[ She's a fighter, she knows an injury when she sees one. ]

[fika]

( were it a better time, maybe five would be inclined to ask. likely not, because that statement alone carried enough implications on its own, experience compounded into a hard statement. he'll take it at face value, because at least that much he knows.

he might be more inclined to ask about the history book, were he less annoyed. )

Are you serious? Of course not. ( he's also not here to bullshit anyone. no, he hasn't looked everywhere. that's an impossible task when you can barely find your own ass, let alone stop your teeth from chattering.

the voices seem to give a particularly loud hiss next to his ear, and it has him jerking a shoulder up with a cuss of his own.

here's the thing. five isn't the sort of person who'll risk his life for a stranger; not for a lack of empathy - though if asked, he'd certainly be inclined to say that - but because his family had always come first. as did getting back to them, and he couldn't do that - he couldn't save them and the world along with them - if he was dead. right now was much the same and he hated himself just a little bit more for it, eyes harder and voice painfully distant. still, he tries and can't really explain why. ) I can get us back. We have ten minutes to look around for any signs of life.

I'm not freezing my ass off before I can find a way out, and definitely not for something I don't think exists.

Take it or leave it.

[chuju]

[ Daisy misses them all. May, Mack, Simmons... even Deke, the little weirdo. She'd love to see any one of them walk through that door, but she'd also hate it. None of them should get trapped here too. No, she and Coulson will figure this out, they always do, and they'll get back home to their respective timelines and everything will be fine.

As fine as it can be when she knows what's waiting for him back there.

No, the observation he poses is anything but revelatory. It is true, though. She's so tired that she's forgotten what it feels like to be rested. The first few nights here, she'd been so worried about everything and so on edge, unable to let her guard down long enough to properly sleep. And now. Well. It's still so much easier said than done.

Shaking her head at both offers, she offers him a sad (and tired) smile. ] I can't sleep because it hurts and everything feels wrong without my powers, and we don't have any of the meds from SHIELD that would help. It sucks, but I just have to deal with it.

[thering]

"Old man," Doc finishes helpfully. Yes, he's old. He doesn't feel old, or feeble, or forgetful, or any of those things that are promised in the pipeline. He doesn't feel sick. 20-odd years of dealing with tuberculosis has done plenty of damage to his lungs, and he'd been feeling sick as a dog before he made the deal for immortality. Now time is just something passing him by while he figures out what to do with himself and this mess he has made with a baby on the way.

"It was 2017, so I suppose that would make me very old." 166 years, to be precise, even if he spent almost 130 of it at the bottom of a well. He usually plays these cards close to the chest, but he figures, he's seen some of the folks around here do some very strange things. And he likely won't be seeing any of these people in Purgatory once he returns.

[thering]

Okay. [He's not going to argue with the young old whatever man. This place is clearly dangerous and he doesn't think any less of Five for wanting to leave. In fact he might even feel a little guilty for making him stick around that much longer.]

Let's keep moving. [For what little that will do to warm him up. There will be apology tea later, or coffee. And maybe apology supper.]

I cannot understand, why would anyone bring us here just to- just to toy with us? [It's... incomprehensibly cruel. He knows that he has done some things in his very long life deserving of cruelty, but surely not everyone here has made those same poor choices. He also happens to know of some incomprehensibly cruel demons who might have this kind of power. But he always... or at least, he thought he always knew what they wanted.]

I went to the library, looking for dates. Could not find anything of use for you. Only more questions, same as everywhere you go. But I will keep searching.

[revvedup]

[ true, but sometimes you're without your supplies and you find yourself needing to improvise. she seems the type to appreciate that. ]

We can look for one while looking for the other. [ max turns and gives the door a final once over, frowning at it before she turns and starts heading back the way she came. ] Where were you looking for keys before?

[hellblaze]

Well, humanity has been using salt in their various religious tendencies forever. It's a natural part of the earth. Generally used to mix in with things for cleansing and the sort. Negative entities and energies can't pass a salt line.

[ So much for the we don't know why it works. ]

The wards I put on the doorways haven't kept the buggers out, so, at least they can't come over and blow out the fire.

[hellblaze]

John simply grinned at that challenge. He wouldn't pop the experience for Zed. No, she'd get the honor and joy of explaining to Raylan how her powers worked. If they could get her powers working. It seemed like her magic was as screwed as his.

"Oh, my private solicitor herself." He had a light tone in his voice then. "Didn't bother trying to go out further in the storm. Same as going out deep in the dark. I'm not about to go poking something with a stick until I've got a fair idea what it might be. Demons tend to be a bit... flashier about things. Ghosts don't have enough powers to drag all sorts of us in this way. Witches... well, depends if they've had a bad day or not."

[hellblaze]

Oh, well, you never know where people might keep their secrets. Possible a hidden room could of been down below that they were hoping would go up with the rest of the room. [ he gestures to the burned area with his hand. ] Had a mate that had a mill house filled with magical trinkets and things that would make your head spin. A hidden door in a library really wasn't that far of a stretch of the imagination.

[ and he was mad. frustrated. took it out on the floor. ]

Suppose I could. Though, magic is a bit iffy right now.

[ john sets the flashlight on a burned shelf and rubs his hands together. his eyebrows raise -- just to see how serious five is about him going down that rabbit hole. ]

[hellblaze]

Oh, I know the difference between dust and ash. [ He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. ] Animals and humans, well, they've got a distinct energy about it.

[ John is almost used to just rattling off the odd occult things he knows to the unsuspecting people around him. Either they'll ask or they wont. No point in hiding his skill set and what he can and can't know.

Then, he nods to what's in Coulson's hand. ] Planning on taking that to a home science kit, mate?

[hellblaze]

"A few more nights under my belt. Lucky me." John scratches the top of his head. When he gets deep down in those areas of his mind that motivate him? He isn't pleasant to be around. It's why people usually just leave him alone to drink by himself. All that self hate just comes billowing out with no real way to stop it. "Unless the Rising Darkness is affecting this place too."

There's a thought he'd rather deal without.

He points to the chair on the edge of the salt line. "Some blankets and a few sleeping bags. Looks like the people who lived here before were big on the camping."

[thering]

"Well it's plenty dark alright." He's not familiar with this growing evil, rising darkness business. Getting up, he goes to fetch the blankets and throws one at Constantine's face when it's safe and he's got the cigarette in his hand to his side. Blondie needs to loosen up a bit.

It's a lot warmer now, sitting by the fire with a few blankets on their laps. Now they just need knitting needles and a few cats. And a lot less negativity, perhaps, since the whispers and the negative thoughts are hitting them stronger than ever.

Some food wouldn't hurt though. All this salt isn't doing much for them.

"Much as I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day here, I suppose you'll be needing some supper." Yes, he is offering to fetch.

[fika]

( sometimes, survival sucked. it meant doing terrible things for the sake of living long enough to get to the only things that ever mattered.

except, five is still relieved when henry relents, visibly backing off, bowed back straightening. he didn't want to leave him behind, in the cold dark and with the risk of dying from exposure. a shitty death, one that would be on his head. he's had enough of a body count as it were and collateral was worse than the conscious pull of a trigger. the last time someone had tried to actively help him, they ended up dead too.

they were still toeing that line together this very moment, as he turns around and keeps walking and sticks close. motion helps to keep the numbness away, if only just. ) Maybe. Maybe someone's just playing with their food. ( where doc thinks of demons, five remembers the handler. his search had made him fairly certain the commission had no hand in this - a bit too much out of their reach for the rolodex of people gathered here, and even out of her reach. )

Ah, thanks. ( there's a note of surprise, guilt a knot in his chest once more. ) I looked there too. Didn't find anything too useful, but did hit up an old western history book. ( doc might be able to catch the smallest hint of amusement, there. )

[thering]

Food. [Now that is a worrying thought. One that Doc had not yet considered. His brows furrow and he glances at Five before turning his head back to searching their vicinity. The cold is making his movements sluggish and he finds himself now also on the lookout for any signs of a typical predator, in a town that has been abandoned so far to the point where even the animals have abandoned it. Surely they will chance upon some kind of beastly claw marks somewhere perhaps, or blood trails, that sort of thing.

He's focused enough on looking around that his poker face doesn't slip. Although he does pause for half a second, turning his head over his shoulder to give Five a good, long look. There is an instinctive, defensive kind of 'why would you go looking around in there' reaction that he manages to quell down for a quirked eyebrow and playing it cool, turning back to look in front of them.]

Find anything interesting? [Hopefully it just had cartoons of saloons and some notes about railroads, train heists, the civil war and whatever else people are interested in about those old pioneer days.]

[fika]

Hypothetically... ( he hadn't considered that being facetious would lead to very real concerns - natural predators had never been a legitimate concern for five before, but even as offers the small explanation, there's a sting of needle-point anticipation that often comes within the depths of impenetrable dark.

so he keeps his tone conversational and low, attention split between peering fruitlessly around them, and listening. doc's tension doesn't escape his note, however quick and schooled it may be. ) Oh, just some photographs.

The mustache didn't change much. The years were a bit of a surprise though. ( because doc certainly didn't look like he came straight out of the 1880s, which was the interesting point. it certainly suggested something else being amiss. the man did mention magic and dark arts. something to do with that, perhaps? )

Funny luck of pulling out the right book. ( he folds his arms across, tucks each hand under his armpits for more warmth. honestly, he hadn't gone looking specifically for henry's histories - he would have never even assumed to. but the power of association was a strong one. a western histories book conveniently placed out on a shelf, and why not flip through it? ) But I doubt it'd have the answers to us being here. I didn't read much.

Histories are subjective, and all that.