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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Raylan Given | Open and closed prompts

[tinstar]

[You can find my plotting post here or hit me up on hellacopacetic

If you prefer brackets, lemme know, I'm flexible.]

Day Four ◄ Open

[tinstar]

The weight of the darkness outside, of the silence beyond the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, was starting to weigh on Raylan. It had been hours since the storm broke - at least three. Where was the goddamned sun. The walls weren't moving, he knew they weren't but every passing second, the room felt smaller and smaller. Unable to take it anymore, he dutifully put out his fire and slipped his knee length black jacket on. Armed the crank lantern he planned on using until it gave out on him when not under the streetlights, Raylan walked out into the darkness and towards the barrier he'd encountered the night before.

But no pain, no exhaustion, no need to try and hurl up his own boots. That should have been a good thing. It only made Raylan more suspicious and lost in his situation. Not to mention cold. He buttoned up his jacket and popped his collar before continuing.

He made his way up into town, noting the library before heading off down Stroker's Park off Phillips Drive. It was like the town decided to open up to them, which was ridiculous.. Right? There'd been too much and not enough over the past three days and the two hours of sleep he'd gotten the night before, having stayed up since he arrived, was starting to show in the depth of shadows on his face.

[enduresurvive]

Ellie feels like she's losing her mind when the sun just...doesn't show up. It's not a continuation of the storm, not cloud cover, none of that. Of course, that's impossible, but every fucking thing here is impossible. All the other people not knowing about what happened with the Infection? Impossible. Whatever John Constantine says exists, that heaven and hell shit? Impossible. Five being from the year Ellie was born and Henry not knowing how to use a can opener? All goddamn impossible.

So she just tries to roll with that, as insane as she feels, and ventures out into the day. Night. Who knows. She's armed now with a hammer, which isn't much. She has a flashlight, too, which...would work as a weapon if she ends up desperate and willing to give up her light source. Better in the dark than dead, after all. At least the storm has let up, though she doesn't have a heavier coat with her. She has the layers she had that Seattle morning, a few days ago now or whatever, but the cold seeps through them anyway. Well, that's an incentive to keep moving, if nothing else.

So she does her best at that. There's the library, which she'll check later, though she doesn't feel strongly about it. It hasn't even once occurred to her to try to find info about this place by reading about it. What she wants is weapons and a way out of here. Sure, she'd like to beat the shit out of whoever did this to them, but that's still secondary to her original revenge quest, which still occupies so much of her being right now. She can never accept or get over it without killing Abby and those other assholes who were there, who stood by, who helped.

She lets her simmering anger drive her on past the cold and dark. She checks a couple houses, but it's just the same shit. All the big knives gone. No guns, no ammo, nothing she could fashion into a bow easily. Man, fuck this stupid town.

The light of her flashlight flits over Raylan's frame as he walks down the street. She has no idea if he's friend or foe, but she's not about to get taken by surprise, so she calls out.

"Hey. You one of the people that woke up on the beach?"

[tinstar]

Raylan caught the passing light as it tried to yawn out in front of his own and carefully glanced behind him, trying his best to not catch a flashlight in the face. The human voice is what stopped and turned him a little, trying to make out who it was behind the light.

"Why, you met anyone here who ain't yet? If so, I'd like to ask 'em some questions." He probably could have gotten away with a simple 'Yes', but he was feeling ornery. "Name's Raylan," he offered from where he was, having found that people were a little more comfortable when he gave his name first. "Ain't gotta follow though, if ya don't want."

The invitation came with flash of his light at the blacktop several feet away from him.

[enduresurvive]

Ellie shrugs one shoulder. "No, but there's gotta be a first time for everything, right?" Her mouth quirks into a half smile, but it's just this side of cynical. She drops her light enough so it's not shining right on him so at least they can see each other.

"I'm Ellie. Maybe we'll find more together than we would apart." She's not even sure she believes that, and of course she knows better than to just trust some dude she just met, but...well, it's likely he doesn't have any actual weapons either unless he found some stockpile no one else had. Seems unlikely. And she doesn't have to get close enough to grab or anything. So far, the people here don't seem to be super hostile, but Ellie's lived experience keeps her wary.

"Any lucky with those houses yet?"

[tinstar]

He smirked in return and turned the rest of the way to leave himself knife edge of his body towards her as she catches up.

"It'll sure as hell take less time," he agreed with a passing grin. He hadn't found anyone that he really felt was hostile or that he couldn't take in a fight if they were. Ellie didn't look much different. He'd take his chances.

"Not so far. I'm hopin' to at least find a bat - a town with this many houses? I already know they had kids here; no one played baseball?" Raylan shook his head and started forward again as soon as Ellie was within step. "I'll take a hidden bottle of whiskey or cooking sherry at this point, while we're makin' a list.."

He glanced over. "You?" He assumed that she was out doing the same thing he was.

[enduresurvive]

Ellie manages the tiniest smile back. Smiles feel like they don't belong on her face very often these days. There's less and less to smile about, and this town hasn't done that feeling any favours.

She snorts at the alcohol comment. She's not much of a drinker herself, but you know, it wouldn't hurt to have some booze to stave off the chill.

"Yeah, all I got is a hammer. Not even, like, a crowbar, you know? Hammers and dull ass butter knives. Nice of whoever booked it outta this town to take all the good shit with 'em, huh?" She catches up, staying out of arm's reach, but beside him. That way neither of the are likely to startle each other, she figures.

[tinstar]

"Like the place has been sanitized," he noted darkly, though that he'd gotten an amused sound at all out of her was in his favor. Mathis didn't leave them a lot to be happy or pleased about. The food was the only thing that made it survivable on a base most level. Honestly, Raylan was surprised that some people were taking it as well as they were but that was in his favor too. Tough people tended to get things done and they were all looking for answers.

"It's some kinda bullshit, that's for sure," he replied with a bob of his head as he swung his flashlight over to what he estimated to be an older house, weathered and fractionally sagging in parts and slowed to a stop. "Somethin' else I'm lookin' for, bats, guns and liquor aside, is what older houses tend to have. Compartments. Floorboards that creak or hollow bits in the walls, closets..."

He looked over at her. "You got any particular preference on which house we hit?"

[enduresurvive]

"Right. No animals. No bodies. No cars. No weapons." She rattles off this list with increasing annoyance. This place doesn't make any fucking sense to her and that doesn't help. Being stuck in a place that makes no sense is nothing but frustration.

"What's so interesting about closets and shit?" she asks, glancing up at his face. It hasn't really occurred to her that those places matter. In her experience, they're as likely to be cleaned out as anywhere else is. But then, her experience is decades after the world pretty much ended.

"Uh...they're probably all pretty similar but what about that one on the corner?" she suggests, pointing at the house in question, a two story deal at the end of the street.

Day 5 ◄ Closed to John and Doc

[tinstar]

For Tie:
If there was one thing Raylan was sure he needed that Mathis could actually provide, at least for now, it was firewood and he was starting to run out. Having very awkwardly hauled a wheelbarrow from the house he'd rifled through the day before, the Marshal decided that the sun might never come up again and he'd better get a move on. There were more houses than people - they had to have spare wood. Unwilling to try and hand crank a lantern and push a wheelbarrow, Raylan opted to wheel it behind him and hold a candle in his other hand as he made his way around the back of the houses.

He felt like he was in Victorian times and he did not like it.

As soon as he sees another light, another soul, he calls out before he can help himself. "Hey!" Friend or foe? He hadn't met any hostility, but that could easily change and Raylan wasn't taking any chances. He was taking chance enough, not having his gun.

For Old Hat:
Even after collecting and hauling wood back to both his and John's respective houses, Raylan couldn't quite make himself go indoors again just yet. It was stupid, foolish lizard brain thinking, and despite that fully relizing and understanding that, he couldn't stop it. The Stroker Park house had raised more flags than an empty old house should and he saw it echoed in the one he'd chosen, unsure anymore as to if he was imagining it or not. His gut had been screaming 'danger' since it got here.

So he walked some more, this time avoiding the street to slowly make his way around the backsides of equally empty yards, hunting for the treeline. This close to the ocean? There had to be. Instead, all he found was a bitter sinking in temperature the further out he got that threatened to make him drop his candle.

It turned him back fairly quickly.

[hellblaze]

Temperatures drop, the lights start to flicker? John would say the whole bloody town was haunted if he could find evidence of locked lost souls. None so far. That would be easier to deal with than being in a house with Zed after New Orleans. Dodging around things hadn't been the easiest.

Oh, well. If it isn't the Marshall himself?

John recognizes the voice at least. He stops to shine the light on his face, giving a rather devilish grin, because he really is just twelve years old at heart. After a quick laugh, John takes the few strides to close the distance and holds the flashlight up in front of him.

"Traded the badge in for a wheel barrel. Not a good trade off for you, mate." John gives him an annoying grin. "Well! At least they let you keep your hat."

[tinstar]

Raylan winced, head turning away with a break of a smirk at the brightness suddenly in his eyes as he dropped the wheelbarrow. Somehow, he had assumed John wouldn't do something like that but he was starting to get a sense of just how devilish the man was.

"Be awful hard to get around, with this thing on my hip." His smirk broadened. "They'd have to kill me for that," being his hat, "but its good for my shoulders. Can't work 'em out the way I want since this place is unamerican enough to not love baseball." No batting cages or bats to be found and it was a sad thing.

"I could use some extra hands if you're not runnin' late to get your hair done or somethin'. Got a fireplace in the house I holed up in that needs wood. Figure I could borrow some from the neighbours." 'Borrowed' was a generous term, considering he had no intention or returning it.

[hellblaze]

"Oh, I think you could manage," John smirked--then changed his accent. "Those big strapping Southern shoulders? Ma would be thrilled!"

Alright, enough of that. He could make fun Americans more later.

"Oh, right. I need to run to do my bloody hair." John scoffed and flashed the light back at Raylan's face for that. Good to know they could do a bit of flirting and cause no harm. "The house I've ah, decided could use a few people living in it, has one too. And, between you and me, mate?"

John leaned close to him then with a grin on his face. "I don't think the neighbors are going to file a complaint."

[tinstar]

Raylan's eyebrows lifted, head turning a little in surprised interest. Which was, apparently, prime bait for John to blast that damned light in his face again. In a place that didn't see a sun, it was hard to get Raylan on the wrong side of light in general but John was working on it.

"Then we'll stock up your wood bin too. C'mon," he directed with a jerk of his head and a grin he couldn't help.

"You weren't kiddin' about Louisiana, were ya? Do us both a favor, and don't bring that out again. Likely to die of old age out here, Louisiana speed." Oh, there was friendly shit to be talked but it was strange hearing that come out of John's face. "Can't see shit with this candle.. Who you got holed up with ya?"

[hellblaze]

"Lead on, O' Marshall of the Wheelbarrow."

John motioned for him to move ahead and kept the flashlight in front of him. They'd need to see where they were going after all. Though that big stupid grin was plastered on his face at Raylan's reaction. He'd make a note to keep that accent in his arsenal if he ever needed to.

For humor, of course.

"I was more outside of Atlanta for a time, but, contact lived in New Orleans. So, down we went." John filled in some details as they walked. He paused at the question and set his jaw. "Oh, just a chica bonita I met in Pennsylvania. Bit of an artist, that one. Bunch of curly hair and a knack for not listening to you when she should."

There was a pause then. He drummed his fingers on the flashlight before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. That one he hadn't lit when he met with Daisy the day before? Oh, he was lighting it now. The end came to life with a sudden amber and he inhaled sharply. There was little thought he gave to his companion at the display of magic.

Funny, that spell worked too.

"The name's Zed Martin." He added on with a quieter tone. John came to a stop then and turned to face Raylan, flashlight still pointed forward. That usual sarcastic playful expression he had was replaced with something more serious. Maybe even a bit vulnerable. "Do me a favor, Raylan. You see her wandering out and around? Do what you can to help her out."

[tinstar]

Lead on indeed. Raylan listened without interruption, head on a swivel as he moved them across Phillips Street and into the collection of back yards, slipping between the houses with no sense that it was anything other than a friendly nights walk. There wasn't much to say for fences, though a house or two did have a full backyard - Raylan was trying to suss out if any of them had chimneys. Chimneys = Fireplace = Wood.

But the spark of light caught his eye and despite him looking over quickly, there was no drop of John's hands, no lighter to be seen in the empty one. Raylan's brow pinched and he stopped with John, dropping the wheelbarrow for a second as he watched his new companion sidelong and self questioningly. John tended to leave him with a list for quick processing and now was no different. A beat passed and Raylan nodded.

"Sure, you got it." He'd been married and divorced, been in love a few times - he knew what it was to have people to care about. It was an easily made and easily kept promise. "Can I ask you a stupid question?" He waited for the confirmation before continuing. "Where's your lighter?"

Well, it was a question, but not really the one he should have been asking. The gesture at the cigarette came with the question and was more accurate as to what he was actually asking. How in the hell did you light that thing.

[hellblaze]

Oh, thank whatever deity might listen that there's no fences. John's not that much of a climber. A decent runner when needed, but, he'd rather just break the door down and be done with it. Especially when it's practically pitch dark outside.

John blinks once, then twice. He's not used to someone agreeing to something he asks for without something in return. Hell, he isn't even used to someone helping him out so willingly. It's not as if Raylan knows anything he's really done. Oh, John must look all mysterious and a bit funny in his eyes. Englishman with a thing for cigarettes, wearing a trenchcoat, going on about Heaven and Hell. Raylan hasn't heard any of the bad yet -- the things that go along with knowing John Constantine.

"Right."

Part of him wonders if Raylan will actually keep an eye out on Zed.

John half turns from him, eyebrow raised at his question. Then that classic slow smirk spreads on his face. John fishes his lighter out from his pocket and shows it off.

"It's called magic, mate." He chuckles. "I mentioned the bit about the petty dabbling, didn't I? You don't just fall into the Dark Arts on any level without already being attuned to magic somehow. Some people got a straight up gift for it. Me? Well, more of a natural inclination and a whole lot of work."

He walks ahead of him then, making his way to the backdoor of the first house. Simple backdoor. Which is why he's grabbing at it and shoving it open, motioning for Raylan to step inside first. Always better to let the copper go in. Just in case.

[thering]

Despite the availability of perfectly shareable indoor spaces, Doc is attempting another unforgiving night outdoors, using the supplies he has gathered in an old duffel bag he found in one of the first few houses he visited as a makeshift pillow. Maybe he is a little solitary. Maybe it just is and has always been an equally viable option for him where others always gravitate to houses. Either way, apart from the blistering cold, he is fairly content with his setup.

Similar to his third night here, he's started a fire against the wind with two rocks, kindling, dried branches, and anything else mother nature has been kind enough to provide in an otherwise unwelcoming town. From the distance the fire must look like a dim little firefly hovering in the darkness.

Used to be it felt less lonely with inquisitive squirrels, feral cats or noisy birds. It's stiflingly quiet here, apart from the spit and crackle of the fire. Until of course, the sound of footsteps has him turning over his shoulder.

"Who goes there?"

[tinstar]

As easy as it should have been to see the spit of fire against the rock, the darkness still manage to dampen the light, making it a little harder to make out but no less interesting for who made the warmth and if they'd share. His candle was nearly gone, crank lantern having broken hours before, and his hand suffered for the exposure.

When he got close enough to pick out a frame around the fire, he blew out his candle, not wanting to waste more than was needed and answered with his affable southern drawl.

"A friend." Of sorts - he wasn't planning on being hostile, anyway. "Name's Raylan. Can I bother to ask to share your fire for a minute?"

[thering]

The silhouette and the accent and the way Raylan holds himself is all very familiar to Doc, and with that familiarity he lowers his guard somewhat and inclines his head, tipping his hat.

"John Henry. You may stay as long as you wish. I have some food from the restaurant, if you are hungry." Doc reaches around behind him to pull his duffel bag closer, reaching in to pull out a simple sandwich wrapped in the packaging the loaf of bread came in. It is not much, but he is happy to share what he has. That was the world he came from, before everyone started locking their doors and treating each other with an unhealthy amount of suspicion.

[tinstar]

"Pleasure to meet you, all things considerin'," he greeted as he stepped into the light, one hand lifting with a shake of his head at the offer of food before Doc got too far into it. "Thank you but I'm alright." Many people wore hats but not many people wore his kind of hat. While the styles of them didn't match, there was a sense and sense of style that Raylan recognized as very nearly the ancestor of his own.

Not unfamiliar with roughing it, Raylan opted to kneel down as his place of sitting, rather than go searching for something suitable to sit on, and rubbed his hands together with an audible shudder as he turned them towards the fire. "Got food back at the house. Apparently just not enough sense to bring more than one candle." A self-deprecating smile followed it as he glanced over to better take in the look of the man next to him. "Thought I'd find a treeline before I ran outta too much wax but I can't seem to find one."

He let a beat pass before he asked the inevitable 'why'. "Not care for any of the houses on the road?"

[thering]

"Alright." He nudges his duffel bag back into place and cracks a smile at the mention of a treeline, unable to offer up anything more than a small shrug. They can't see shit out here. Sometimes it's like the town itself is conspiring against them.

"There are more travelers to this town than there are habitable houses. I do not wish to impose." That and he's not expecting any lady - or gentleman, for that matter - to provision space for him. Call him old-fashioned.

"There is a distinct lack of coyotes, bears, and wolves. I'll be just fine out here."

[tinstar]

"Distinct lack of anythin' best as I can tell," he replied with no real opinion on it. "Dead zones don't strike me with the most confidence about bein' out in the wild without my gun." Raylan looked up and stared for a long second and the lack of stars and moon before shaking his head and turning his hands back to the fire and glancing over.

"I think you might find that situation has changed. Got a whole new set'a roads with more houses than people. If you find you want a roof and some dusty rooms." The furthest thing from Raylan's mind was talking anyone into sleeping indoors if they didn't want to. None of his business, really.

"You weren't out here in all that rain, were you?"

[thering]

He'd figured that if anyone wanted him dead, he'll be dead already. Of course, that doesn't mean he should go about doing anything too stupid. So far this hasn't turned out to be his most terrible idea yet, so that ought to count for something at least.

"In that case I shall go exploring, in the morning." It has been hard to keep to any sort of daily cycle with how dark it has been these past couple of days, and harder still to go looking for anything especially when he's not yet sure what exactly he should be looking for.

"I weathered the storm in the restaurant, and those houses nearby. It was a bit damp by the time I ventured out." But it was nothing he couldn't handle, and honestly, spending a bit of time outdoors would be good for everyone.

"What we need is a saloon," he laments, breathing out a sigh. He wouldn't mind a bordello, but he'll settle for a saloon.

Day 6 ◄ Open

[tinstar]

Unable to stay in his house alone, when the power when out, Raylan was comfortably perusing the library's shelves, lost in the spines and stories and amazed by the size of the library for a place this small. He might not look like it, but he'd like reading since he was young since it kept him out from under his father's drunken fists, which seemed to be swinging at all times. The sudden swoop of darkness gave him plenty else to think about.

"Hello?" he called, unsure if anyone else was in the library with him. Walking over to pick up a candle lantern, Raylan walked around, unsettled by how faintly the light reached. Like it was being suffocated and the sensation made him call out again. "Anyone else in here with me?" If he was going to be alone, he wanted to be sure of it.

Then the whispers started.

It didn't take long for Raylan to be turning this way and that looking for the source of the voices, almost chasing them up and down the stacks before hitting the front doors and spilling himself out into the street. The lantern fell with him and his haste, shattering and leaving him in total darkness. The whispers stopped for a moment as Raylan collected himself, starting up a moment later with a swirl of sound he wasn't sure anyone else could hear. Now, real panic was starting to crawl up his throat and freeze there with his heavier breaths.

Instinct pushed him to his feet and down the street blindly as the voices continued to chase him. He felt like he was being steered, turning away from one set of whispers only to be driven back that way by more.

"IS ANYONE THERE?" It was the only thing he'd take as life - his long loved base of reality was gone from under him and it was easy to find himself in a very broad mine, to his now panicking mind.

[Find him before the whispers or find him freaking out in the street! He will end up at John's house.]