The Village Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
villagemod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
villagelogs2020-10-17 08:48 pm
villagemod) wrote in villagelogs2020-10-17 08:48 pm
Entry tags:
- *overview log,
- doc holliday (wynonna earp),
- ellie (the last of us),
- raylan givens (justified),
- ~ claire novak (supernatural),
- ~ daisy johnson (marvel live action),
- ~ john constantine (dc live action),
- ~ kylo ren (star wars),
- ~ max guevara (dark angel),
- ~ number five (the umbrella academy),
- ~ phil coulson (marvel live action),
- ~ zed martin (dc live action)
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"
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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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
He bobbed his head. "Older houses tend to have compartments. In closet walls, under floors, under stairs and the like. My Aunt Helen's house had a compartment in the back closet - Arlo, my daddy, used to use it to store drugs he didn't want the law to find. I learned young to pay attention to structure." It wasn't just her that wouldn't think about it. Most of the lawmen he worked with wouldn't either. It was largely common in places where people had something to hide.
His flashlight turned onto the house she was pointed at and he nodded. "Might as well. Good as any, really. As 'clean' as this place is, I don't expect to find much but we won't know if we don't go bangin' around." He glanced over at her as they moved that way.
"You ever seen any shit like we're in before?"
no subject
"I mean, what the fuck though, right? It's not like I have any better ideas."
She moves towards the house she picked. It's like the others, of course, same middle class affair, probably belonged to a family. They're all a bit cookie cutter in the end but maybe one of them will have something different.
"Anything like this? No way. People talking about alternate universes and shit? I feel like I woke up in a movie. Have you?"
no subject
"I'm still mullin' over those bottles at the Grey Gull. No one would have emptied them. If it was a statement, they wouldn'ta left the bottles.." More of 'Nothing Made Any Sense'. He hated it.
He shook his head at the question as he followed her towards the front porch. "No, never anythin' like this. This is shit I read about in science fiction books. Seems I'm askin' everyone this so might as well make it a habit - where'd you get picked up from?"
no subject
"Empty...bottles?" she asks. She hadn't noticed that, but she isn't terribly interested in liquor to begin with. "So they emptied them but left the bottles? Fucking why?"
That really doesn't make sense.
"Also, where did the food come from? It's, like, not rotten or anything. There's no animals here to eat it. not even rats or mice or shit. Nothing here adds up." So to that point, all right, maybe he's right about the crawl space idea.
She shoves one hand into her coat pocket, frustrated and withdrawn.
"I was in Seattle," she says. "But I think what you're really asking me isn't where. It's when." She looks back at him, considering for a second before answering. "It's 2039 where I'm from."
no subject
"Still can't figure that one out. Either of 'em. Not that we're figurin' much of anything out." She made case and point with her mention of the food. "If I had someone to point my frustrations at, someone would be havin' a terrible day."
But as she continues and mentions the year, Raylan slows to a stop. "Wait, I'm sorry. 2039?" What did that even look like?
no subject
He stops so she does too, turning all the way back around to look at him.
"2039, yeah. I was born in 2019. From what I gathered, most of you guys are from way before me, right?"
no subject
He tilted his head a little, features narrowing. "What's that look like, 2039 - where are we at as a people?" It seemed like a reasonable question. "Way I figure it, we coulda gone two ways and only one is a good idea."
The other was, well, apocalypse. Or maybe he'd read too much.
no subject
She rubs a hand on the back of neck and starts walking again.
"If things are fine for you in 2015, I think your future is...is different. That sounds like bullshit, right? Me being from a future you can't imagine. You being from a past that isn't the one I know about."
It's not an answer to his question, she knows.
"Sometimes I think humans aren't a good idea at all," she says, and there's surprising cynicism in those words. She likes people, is the thing! She really does. She wants to believe that people are good. But where she was just before coming here...it's too close and too raw. She's still so angry.
no subject
"Sometimes we aren't," he agreed darkly. "But I don't know about different futures soundin' like bullshit. There's a lotta things that I've been told lately that are flat impossible."
He stepped up onto the porch first, peering into the window beside the door as he swept his flashlight in. "Before we go in," he continued, turning back to face her. "How did the world end?"
He had to know.
no subject
She looks up at him, but looks away again almost immediately. She feels so alone here. No one can possibly understand what it's like to come from where she does. That's so entirely new to her, and in some ways it's even weirder than the idea of magic and all that. She closes in on herself subconsciously again, posture folding down a bit.
"There was an infection," she says. "I mean, there still is. But I guess when it started, it just took out, like, a ton of people. The military took over the cities but they're a bunch of douchebags and they'll shoot you over pretty much anything. There's some people that fought back in different places but the cities are still pretty terrible. Honestly, you're just as likely to get infected as you are to get shot to death by some fucking religious wack job or someone who wants to sell you for parts."
no subject
"...Like.. Dawn of the Dead? Some.. Romero film?" It had to be sensitive, if it was true. He almost hated the fact that the question was there; she wasn't lying, he could tell that much, but the reasonable reality he'd been living in didn't have a lot of room for that kind of disaster.
It was closer to something he could believe could happen then Magic, so Ellie was already ahead. The house was momentarily forgotten - he wanted to fully understand this first before he went back to pretending like none of it mattered; like it had no bearing on him because of the world he came from. Couldn't happen there... Right?
no subject
"No. Not zombies," she says. She doesn't roll her eyes, but that tone is there in her voice, as if to say zombies aren't real. "It's a fungus. It's called cordyceps. It's a mutation of cordyceps that can infect people. It...gets into your brain and controls you so you lose your mind and you aren't you anymore. Infected go after regular people to spread the infection. That's all they really do."
Her voice sounds hollow, like always, when she explains it. There's always that part of her that wonders why she's different. She's one of them. But she isn't one of them. Fuck, it would have been easier to be one of them.
"What's it like?" she asks, abruptly. "2015. Where you're from. What's it like?"
no subject
What she described sounded more like a Stephen King Novel. Dreamcatcher, specifically.
"For someone like you? Trust me, lookin' into the wayback machine might not be the best idea." Someone her age might be going into collage, getting their third shit teenage job and getting a boyfriend. Raylan had a feeling that wasn't what Ellie was going to get to experience.
He thought it a kindness to gloss over what 2015 had that 2039 didn't and reached in to open the door to the house, stepping in ahead of Ellie as he swept his flashlight across the foyer. "Another two level. Not many single levels around. Either older homes or higher rate of livin'."
no subject
So she follows him inside.
"Looks kind of like houses in movies, right? Nothing super notable, nice looking neighbourhood if you ignore that somehow not even one car exists here." It was almost disappointing that they were so...the same. But it was still weird how much stuff was left. Nothing was rotting, just dusty. How long had these people been gone, anyway?
no subject
He ambled around a table, dishes left on from the breakfast whatever family had just finished. "Kinda does. Movie set. They used to build full towns to drop nukes on in the 30's and 40's - that's what this reminds me of. We should probably stick together, just in case the floor ain't as sound as it looks. No use riskin' getting trapped somewhere."
It was always 50/50 if someone was offended by the company or not, but she wasn't a cop or an agent and while he was sure she could take care of herself, it would really be less work for him, in case something did go wrong.
no subject
It's nice not to be alone here, to have Raylan there. He seems like he knows what he's doing, more or less, and that gives her confidence. Sure, he could still turn out to be shitty. She's aware of that and is still on guard, but for now she's trusting him.
"They built towns to nuke them?" she asks. "What the fuck, why?" She takes a cursory glance around, but it really does seem pretty much like all the other houses, so she lets herself get distracted enough to focus on his question.
Wanna handwave the rest of this answer her answer? Maybe start something new?
"They stopped in the 40's I think, though the lands still actively used for military tests. Messed up the locals too, radiation poisoning, illnesses.." He looked back at her. "What effected your people, this.. fungus. Was it always there?" Or did someone put it there?
He didn't think they were going to find much in the house, and it let him question her a more casually.