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

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

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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Well, thank you for the offer, but I'm not much in the mood right now.

[ John maked sure the man was sitting down before dropping onto the couch beside the fireplace. He groaned and sank further down into it, a shiver wracking his body despite the trenchcoat. He was going to wrap himself in one of those sleeping bags any damn minute now. ]

What "guy" in the fields?

[ He looks back over and that is when he notices the injury. Another swear comes from him as he moves over to kneel beside him, grabbing his wrist to be able to look at it better. ]

You turn around right into a damn window? [ John raises his eyebrows and hopes that really is what happened. ] Stay here and don't move, alright?

[ Which out comes the flashlight again and John takes a deep breath to move past the salt circle and into the dark. He should of thought to bring a first aid kit to the fire. ]

[Raylan took all the quips, the innuendo the same way he had with all the other people who spoke in the same way to him; with an unbothered glance that suggested nothing other than his acknowledgement.]

Guy named John Henry. Didn't ask if that was one name or the whole thing.

[He'd barely gotten 'whole' out before John was swearing and kneeling next to him. He wasn't used to that kind of reaction when he got hurt and it was almost a little.. well, charming of John. He wasn't wholly sure how to take it and watched the Englishman get up and walk away without answering.

The further away John got, the more voices seemed to creep in under the cracks in the doorframe and Raylan was sure he heard Arlo's voice again under it all. Scared of a little dark, boy? Best get in the truck 'fore I give you somethin' to be scared of.

Raylan's jaw tensed and he kept his eyes firmly locked on his weeping palm until he heard John's footsteps return into the room.]

Fell, to answer your question. I was holdin' one of those glass candle lantern things and tripped. Musta landed on it. Doesn't even really hurt, to be honest.

[Total bullshit.]

[ John drops innuendo like a tree drops apples. Eventually it will get to the point where if he doesn't? People start to wonder.

There's a few more curses from somewhere in the darkness. John's found his way to the bathroom at least, though it's hard to hear if he's yelling at himself or the voices that are always just on the edge of his hearing.

Eventually, what seems like ages later, John is crossing the salt line again. He's got the first aid kit in his hand and sets himself down next to Raylan. Scarf and trencchoat flaring out at his sides. ]

You mean, Cowboy Henry? Good bloke. Bit olden if you catch my meaning. [ He makes his comment about John Henry then. ] Met him a few times. He didn't seem to be a fan of the magic bit.

[ That is more because he saw the sucker punch magical hangover John got after it though. ]

Sure, it doesn't hurt, [ John gives him a look as he rips open the first aid kit and dips his accent again, ] and I've always been from America.

Edited 2020-10-23 00:56 (UTC)

[Raylan gave him a look back, eyes narrowing slightly as John broke out that too good accent again. He didn't argue it because, well, it was true now that his adrenaline was starting to come down, but admitting to that sorta thing wasn't normally done since it wasn't life threatening.]

It ain't exactly the easiest thing to take, magic. Got enough of that from the bible and the world does a lot to disprove the powers that be. Hard to swallow that it ain't just a trick.

[He couldn't say too much about the older generation, which he agreed that Henry belonged in, but that was only because it was men like that who'd led to men like him. There was an automatic bit of respect given for that, if nothing else.

It made him feel a little better that he wasn't the only one that was, apparently, late to the 'magic' party.]

How many wounds you dealt with?

[ There is a raise of the eyebrows. Oh, he can only catch that lie because he knows that lie. One he's said himself numerous times. Sometimes to himself, sometimes to others. ]

Oh, enough. Usually it was--[ he pulls out the large bandage and some tape, ]--Chas doin' all this. The babying and the what not.

[ Not that he is entirely useless. He turns so the light from the fire can illuminate the wound a bit better. ] I'll let you ah, clean the wound out. Wouldn't want to seal any bits of shards in there.

Did my best to get the energies of the Mulcalley home to talk. Metaphorically. [ He figures why the hell not? He's asked Raylan to help protect something more valuable than his reputation. ] Something like that shouldn't flatten me on my arse... yet here we are.

I've worked 'em out, it's ready unless you've got some hydrogen peroxide in there. [He should have been more worried about infection, but at this particular point in his life, he had bigger things to worry about.

Still, he should probably have found a kitchen and tap to rinse it off.]

Flatten you on your ass? What happened? That why you're here?... Who's Chas?

[He knew it was a lot of questions, but as ever, that's what John left him with.]

Alcohol swabs.

[ There is a bit of rummaging before he rips open the package and pulls the swab out and hands it to him. Namely because he doesn't want to be the one punched in the face when the sting sets in. ]

Chas is my oldest mate, known him since I was a kid. Pair of us doing stupid stuff. [ A half-shrug. ] Always looking out for us. Even when he got married.

[ Chas is MVP really. ]

Felt like I had all the wind punched right out of my lungs. Sent me down for the count for a few minutes, but, nothing I can't handle. [ John starts wrapping his hand once it's been swabbed up properly. He's not necessarily harsh, but, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see he's not used to doing this for someone else. ] Here because it was the closest house Zed and I could dip into. It's that blue one, mate.

[Softly grunting his understanding, Raylan took the swabs and wiped down his hand. The only indication that he gave that it stung was the way he inhaled and the slight tension of his jaw, but other than that, his face didn't shift one iota beyond the lifting of his eyebrows in response to the answer about Chas.]

That's the way it oughta be, with kids.

[He looked back over, kind enough to not drop the swabs right on the floor, and gestured for the gauze. If handed it, he'd fully attempt to wrap it himself. ]

Glad to know the color of the outside, I'm sure it's a wonderful shade. What were you hopin' to find out? With their energies.

Oh, trust me. Chas made sure I made it to the ripe age of adulthood. Even if I might of done my damnest to do the otherwise. Accident or not.

[ He hands the gauze over and motions for Raylan to take care of it on his own. ]

Found out cause of the torch. Easy to find out what shade it is when you flash the house before the creepy voices set in. [ He sits down then properly and sighs. ] I was hoping to find out what their last moments in that house were. Some sort of insight as to what might of happened.

[Raylan quirked a passing smile at that and started wrapping his hand, tying the ends into a loose knot and holding it out at John so he could help secure the other bit and pull the knot tight.]

I'm guessin' gettin' knocked on your ass means you didn't get any hints, huh? [He glanced down at his hand with a shake of his head before his eyes found the fire.] Nothin' here makes sense. The sky, the weather, the food, the air, the goddamn feel of the place- [He lamented with a scrub of his good hand over his face tiredly as he sat back.] - and I ran outta reasonable ideas about ten hours ago. Somethin' gotta give.

[Because he could feel the bend in the road coming, though if the town didn't give, something in him would and that scared him more than the voices incessantly whispering in the hall.]

[ He quickly ties that knot and gives a good pat to Raylan's arm. Then, he turns and takes his seat beside the man. ] The knocked down bit was a result of the spell. Magic isn't just parlor tricks, a twist of a mirror, or sawing some poor woman in half on a stage. It's older, trickier. Usually you've got to give magic some sort of compensation. Bit of you--or be damn good at tricking it.

[ He figures that is ultimately why people around him end up dead. John doesn't pay the price--others do. The only price it seems the universe was going to make sure he paid was for poor Astra Logue. The girl being tortured in Hell for eternity because of his lack of knowledge, his nativity, his bloody ego. ]

Found out that the family in that house had no idea what was coming. Whatever 'It' is. Went about their daily lives as one does in the morning. Breakfast, dishes, seeing each other out the door. Either whatever happened here was in an instant... or those poor sods didn't meet their fate in the house.

[ Answers but no the ones he wanted. ]

Might have to do a bit more poking around. Further in the town.

[It was a simple and unimportant act, being sat next to, but Raylan suddenly couldn't remember the last time he had that wasn't in a car. There was something in that. His brow pinched a little as John started - he hadn't expected to be completely wrong but had no issue with it. He'd been wrong a lot and would likely be wrong again at some point.

This wasn't the job. This was.. Something Else.

He watched his hands as he listened, unable to stop himself from imagining the way it might have gone.] More answer than we've got anywhere else. I keep thinkin' about that group picture that's in every out. Every one. Even the old ones. Different people, same place. That place.. That will hold somethin'...

You see what happen at the library? [His gaze came back sidelong with it. He knew, had just heard in fact, that there was a price to getting information, but John was clearly willing to pay it, right?]

[ He tilts his head then, eyebrows turned together at that. ]

What group picture?

[ Oh, sure, he'd seen a few. Though he hadn't taken a close enough look at them. Obviously. Then he sighs and rubs his hands together. He's going to go somewhere warm after this and never leave. Tropics maybe. ]

The burned out bit in the back? Floor to ceiling? Visited it a couple times over the last few days.

[ ...and the hole in the middle of the floor? He might of done that. Possibly. He was mad. ]

Buncha people at some.. Grand house. Might be a church, but I didn't see any crosses. The house I'm in has one. The house I broke into a few days has the same one, different people. Older people. It's a place for the community. Somethin' important happens there, some ruital for the town. Cultural ritual, I assume. [He assumed John would not take the same meaning to 'ritual' as he did.]

You get anything about why it's all burnt to hell? Rest of it ain't bad; mighta snagged a few to keep me busy if I'd thought about it. [The power going out had kind of taken over his scope of vision.]

Ritual has a lot of meanings, mate. May want to be careful how you use it. Still... if the weather lifts up? Sounds like we've got a building to try and find.

[ Because it is now 'we.' John would still prefer to go do things on his own. He always feels he works the best alone. But, if Raylan has something... then might as well make it a group effort. ]

Not a lick. Well, I did lick the ash. Not the sort of lick we're looking for though. [ He grins. ] I did pull some old books. Bit hard to read in the dark though.

You know what I meant; ain't got time to go through a book and a half of footnotes for other applications. Easter, Harvest, first fish of the season kinda rituals.

[But John was right. They had a building to find. If the sun ever came back.

Raylan looked over sidelong, eyes squinting as John mentions licking ash, and decides he's not asking with a shake of his head.]

Just gotta get close enough to the fire. Didn't have time to grab any of my own before the power went out. Gonna have to go back. Find something I can read in between. [Since drinking, batting, and his job were out of the question right now.]

Speaking of fish. We need to keep our eye open for that fishing warf. I've got a few questions for it.

[ Namely he is wondering if there is something that connects to the ocean. That fear is still lingering in the back of his mind. Almost like it's haunting his thoughts--but he figures that is more because he's right annoyed something made him run away. ]

From what I glanced? They're just a bit of general history of the world. Nothing too fancy yet. And here I was hoping that I'd find a bit of hidden darkness.

Yeah. Been thinkin' about it since those invoices at the Grey Gull. Ports bein' as important as they are in places like these. Wanna see if there are ships that are supposed to be there that aren't..

[Wha-No, he hadn't been thinking about any of that. It had only taken over more of the hours that he'd spent sitting alone, running through his head on an endless loop.]

I'm lookin' for.. well, actual readin' books. Fiction. Scifi maybe. I could handle a space robot. [He didn't look it, but he'd been a reader when he was young and while that skill never made it over to casefiles, he could dock away a sizable novel, given enough time.]

Or what they might of brought in.

[ He gives a quick smirk at that. He doesn't think they will find anything that connects it to the outside world. Too many names are gone, like they never existed at all. ]

I ah, didn't grab any of those. Plenty of them back at the library though. Not much of a fiction reader myself.

[What they imported, what they exported and when. Raylan didn't expect to find much interesting in the imports and exports, but he was curious about how much travel went through there. How frequent that contact was.]

Got into when I was a kid. Way to stay out of trouble, off Arlo's radar. Ain't made a lot of time for it but seems that I might be having a little more time for it. Spent the last couple nights starin' at my fire. Coulda used the company.

[Raylan took a deep breath and scrubbed his face.]

You care if I stay here tonight? Goin' back out there is dangerous.

I was never really off the old man's radar. [ He feels its probably good to admit something. ] Especially not after my sister decided to live out on her own.

[ Then, he nods to one of the couches. ]

Set up camp, mate. I got a few sleeping bags and blankets.

Daddies. Bastards, aren't they.

[But he nodded.]

Thanks. Won't head that way yet but.. [He needed a few hours of secure sleep to function like a sane human being tomorrow.]

What's with the salt? [He'd meant to ask before but being that freaked out altered his general priorities.]

Seems like they are.

[ He smirks. ] Spirits can't pass salt lines. Not sure if that's what our spooky voices are, but, better to be prepared.

[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.

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.

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