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

[hellblaze]

"Only if you intend to give it back." John winks, and flips the flashlight in his hand so the end of it faces Raylan.

He takes the candle in exchange and lets out a puff of smoke before stepping in behind the man in the white cowboy hat. He lifts it up a bit, trying to have a good look around the house they've unceremoniously stepped into. He figures its just like the Mulcalley home and they're not disturbing any restless spirits.

"I'm guessing you're holed up in a place that isn't the Grey Gull." He steps around the couch before he ends up stumbling over it.

[tinstar]

Raylan grinned and lifted his eyebrows a little as he turned the light in and followed, sweeping it left and right across what looked like a kitchen that spilled into a dining room, plates and cutlery still left on the table and the hallway that he followed down into the living room. Another mediocre house, but it made locating the fireplace easy.

"Seems like someone left us a basket," he said, focusing the light on the little iron basket in front of the fireplace that was stacked mostly full with all of seven bits of wood. Raylan came to a stop; If he was light, John was the manual labour.

"No. Night before last, I tried to walk up this way through the storm and couldn't. I fell back to that last house on the block. It's got a couple of bedrooms but I can't sleep, so I sit beside my fire and wait for the sun." He glanced out the windows briefly. Was the sun ever going to come back?

What he wouldn't give for Winona to just show up. As much as she would hate it all, at least he wouldn't be alone. At least he could courner her for the answer as to why he'd been left with two very unacceptable sentences.

"We find a house with a darker soot top chimney, we might get lucky and find a larger pile." Easier topics.

[hellblaze]

John walked over to the nearby wall, taking in the sight of more pictures. More families, more faces, more people that seem to have just vanished. He frowned at that, head tilted as he took inventory. How many forgotten people in this town did It just take up and go away with? Were their souls bound somewhere in this town? Were they in Hell? He doubted they've found their way to Heaven.

Where the hell is that feathery shit when he needed him?

His attention snapped back to Raylan the moment he speaks. John joined him, eying the basket, then giving the man a look. Really. Did he look like the sort of bloke that did manual labor like that? He set the candle on the mantle, snapping his hand back the moment wax threatened to tip out of it. He grabs one, two, three, four before turning to head back to the wheelbarrow. Oh, if he had to carry, then Raylan would have to stand there and wait it out while he did it.

"Went out after the storm passed to have a smoke. Thought," he paused as the wood crashed into the wheelbarrow, "I'd do a bit of exploring when the sun came up. Funny bit about that story."

The sun never came back up.

"Zed and I are holed up in the nice blue one. Right there on Phillis Drive. Stop by and have a chat once and awhile, yeah? Make sure the dark didn't get you." John continues as he comes back to snag the remaining piles. "You really think we're going to find a darker soot chimney in the bloody dark?"

[tinstar]

"Innit that what the light's for?" Raylan asked, taking his turn to flash John in the face with the light and a squinty playful look as it followed him out, turning down so he could walk back in without being blinded. "Coulda picked up the whole basket."

He bobbed his eyebrows at the information about the house, nodding noncommittally. "Maybe I will. I'll bring a fruitcake and a plant you can kill." He doubted he'd break for the need for company that soon, but he would keep it in mind. He found he liked John, for whatever reason.

"Darker chimney means a heavier burn, heavier burn means they got more need for a larger pile. Worth a shot anyway, unless you wanna spend the whole night goin' through every house."

[hellblaze]

John groans at the light, giving a swat with his free hand. Not enough to knock it out of Raylan's grip, but enough to show he doesn't like the joke being turned on him. Not that it will stop anyone of course. "Oh, ta to that. Do I look like a bloke from the mines?"

He sighs and dumps the rest of it in the wheelbarrow. Then he blows some smoke in Raylan's face as he grabs the candle again. "I thought we'd just nick the ones from local houses. Unless one of us is staying there.

[tinstar]

No it will not. Raylan kept his grin and bobbed his head as he followed John out of the house. "You mighta cut it. Depends on how well you mind the guy next you when you're 300 feet deep."

The more he sensed of John, despite his crookedness to book law that Raylan had never paid much serious mind to, the more he got that John was a solid, however unfortunate guy. A bad luck charm, if he were to go out on the line, but one that he could see where and why John was hard to put down, if one were so inclined.

"We browse the backs, we might get lucky with a bigger haul than.." He counted them up real quick. "Seven pieces. Course, I don't exactly have any hair appointments, so-" he continued, turning out and handing the light back "-lead the way."

[hellblaze]

"Come from Liverpool, son. That means mining town. Doesn't mean I was a miner." John gives him a raised eyebrow as he puffs another line of smoke. "Last time I was in a mine... well, didn't end so well. Except the preacher that got a bit of that good wholesome faith back."

It was also the place he met Zed. That little town in Pennsylvania. Mining town, local woman fed up used her family's magic for dark purposes and raised peaceful miner spirits to kill. Not quite his idea of a good Friday afternoon... also made him glad he didn't go into the town business.

"You must have a thing for hair. You keep bringing it up." John gives him a grin before taking the light and pointing it forward.

[tinstar]

Raylan shrugged with a bob of his already lifted eyebrows - he hadn't realized Liverpool was much more than some kinda port town that the Beatles came from. Learn something new every day. He should have, of course, but history wasn't really in his interests.

"We're gonna look like hippies in a few months unless someone finds some scissors." Why yes, that was on in the back of his head - an indicator that part of him was coming to terms with the fact that for right now? They weren't going home. They weren't going anywhere.

"Good job skipping that line of work - it ain't fun. If you weren't a miner, what were you doin' down a shaft?" He didn't know it, but this all earned John some points. Raylan had a soft spot for miners and the rural type of mining community, considering that's what Harlan was.

[hellblaze]

"You're thinking we're going to be here a few months." John looks at him, eyebrows raised, and a frown on his face. "We'll either be out of here or dead by then. I doubt whoever lived here before us got the choice of sticking around or leaving. Just a hunch."

The entire town didn't just disappear because they all decided to leave willy-nilly. They were .... well, honestly? His running theory was sacrificed. Maybe not the traditional mental image sort. But, their souls and lives given up to something. That was more common in his line of work than he'd like to admit to.

"Coblynau." John answers easily. "Welsh tradition, though everywhere else in England has a story or two about them. Most the time they're spirits of dead miners knocking on the walls to warn of danger. Peaceful blokes, deciding to stick it around to help save someone else. Usually. Unless something darker riles them up to commit murder."

He grabs the cigarette with his other hand and pulls it from his mouth so he can talk properly. "Small town up in Pennsylvania. Sorted it out, put the spirits back to ease. That's where I ran into Zed."

[tinstar]

"Unless a door pops up in the middle of town with our name and years on it, we're not gettin' out. And I sure as shit ain't dying in some northeastern fishery township. Neither are you."

He might be proven wrong on the last one, but as long as he had his wits about him, he'd do what it was in his limited power to stop any one of them from dying.

"Suppose y'all have been mining longer than Harlan has. We credit God, or nothin' at all. Suppose that ain't impossible, as many men die down there.." The way he'd almost died down there.

"Anythin' I oughta know about her?" Raylan wasn't concerned in any way, but he was curious what John would give up about his mystery woman. Worst he could say was nothing.

[hellblaze]

"Pretty sure they call those headstones." John offered a bit morbidly. Then a careless shrug. He wouldn't be going out without a fight anyways. "Oh, me, mate? Nah. I got too much to do before my time is done."

A little girl in Hell needed to be saved before he died.

"England is a bit older." He grins but shrugs. "Myths shift depending on where in the world you are, but, they are generally the same. Think of it this way, mate. We've all got souls, yeah? Bit of that spark of life from the Almighty. Whose to say that spark always leaves?"

Oh... Zed. What could he tell her about Zed? Not a whole lot in terms or past. She's left a lot of those details vague. Facts of the present are what he knows the most. How she's as bloody stubborn as he is.

"She's a bit less friendly on the personal detail sharing." He offers. "Bit of an artist too. Kept seeing me in her dreams and drawing me till she finally found me. Oh, and..." he holds a finger up as if to make a point, "...you really can't talk her out of what she makes her mind up on."

[tinstar]

"Won't be the first time I've seen mine," he replied with a casual apathy. At least he'd know what to do with a door with his name on it, those kinds of directions felt clear, and he knew he'd end up under the gravestone he'd walked past countless times at Arlo's.

The idea of souls was something Raylan would have to ruminate on - He didn't really believe in them just like he didn't really believe in God, so there were still a few leaps for him to get over before he was on that particular train. Still, there were people in the foothills, like the Bennets, who called the Mountain their provider, putting it somewhere right underneath God and giving it its own life within the community.

"So you said. Take it you've tried and failed a few times. I won't ask for details. Seein' you in her dreams musta been frightenin' enough," he teased with a pull of a smirk. It wasn't much of any information but Raylan assumed he'd meet the lady at some point and ask some questions of his own, if needed with clear notes for 'Weird Shit™'.

[hellblaze]

He raised an eyebrow at that. Well, not often someone sees their own headstone. Impressive. There's a story attached to that - but he figures that is a story for another time. No one is going to want to put all their cards on the table right away. Especially John.

Belief is something that's always a struggle for people. John's burden was that he knew. He knew angels, he knew demons, and everything in between. The awe and mystery had long gone from it all. John struggled with the concept of trust. Having that faith that the Almighty had it out for him and would be there in his time of need. Bollocks, really. He just wanted to see the Almighty do something to help the people He claimed so much to love.

"Suppose they were more nightmares than dreams. Not that it kept her away." John offered a ghost of a smile in return. A glance downwards then he looked forward again. "More than a few times, mate."

[tinstar]

Raylan wondered how John would take finding out that he'd been staring at it anytime he was home since he was 19. But it was a story he'd take to better with moonshine, an idea that had been kicking around with the voice of desperation in the back of his head.

But clearly, he'd hit a nail on the head, quite by accident. Noted.

"Good. Probably for the better, even if I don't know the details." He wasn't asking. "Shit, look over there," he said, pointing around John's shoulder. "Shine on it, would ya?"

[hellblaze]

He'd wonder if it was oddly humbling in any sort of way. Not that John did humble.

"I'm not sure Zed even knows all the details. That's the thing about ... her particular skill set. Glimpses only." John shook his head. He preferred it that way.

Then at this request, John spun the light to where he was pointing. The long trenchcoat billowed out around him, gently hitting anything in it's path.

"What?"

[tinstar]

John was off by about a foot so Raylan opted to just grab his elbow and push the light a little further that way. "Woodstack." Without waiting, Raylan picked up the wheelbarrow and headed that way.

"That's always how it is? Like with premonitions and 'prophecies'?" Did that mean John was saying Zed was psychic? "I've always found that to be awfully inconvenient for my tastes. Once had a psychic who lost her husband twenty years beforehand-" The wheelbarrow was dropped and Raylan started plucking through the top bits, tossing the wet ones off to the side. "'Cept he wasn't dead, despite the reports. She moved on, of course, but we ended up on a trail lookin' for a twenty year dead guy who turned out to be not dead, and had been hidin' in law enforcement. She was nice enough, but she couldn't even pick him out of a binder full of pictures. Twenty five different possibilities, none that looked any alike to me."

Raylan shook his head as he found some dry, acceptable to burn logs and started pitching them into the wheelbarrow, not bothering to be quiet about it. There was some relief in the sound pushing back the silence of the dark a little, for a moment.

[hellblaze]

Oh. Well. He could of just said that.

John headed after him with his flashlight raised. Just so Raylan didn't hit a rock with the wheelbarrow and go flying.

"Depends on the person, their kind of magic, and how they receive those messages. Some people see things, some can hear things. Some need the bloody tarot deck." He chuckled lightly. "Sounds like she wasn't looking hard enough, or by chance, was communicating the wrong way with things. Finding a bonafied psychic is a rare thing.

He glanced out at the darkness with a frown. "Guessin' you've never met the real thing."

[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."

[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."

[tinstar]

"Private solicitor," Raylan echoed with interest as he glanced at John between looking at the now fully loaded wheelbarrow and the stack, trying to judge how many extra he could pile on - if it would be enough for both John and his hearth, and decided that he could fit a few more on over the handles.

"What's in your mystical books on physical ailments stopping someone? Best I can call it is a barrier, though that feels.. well fuckin' ridiculous-" Pardon his language. "-It was just rain but I felt..." He set over the last piece of wood and heaved a breath.

"Sick. Like I was gonna earl but to the point where I could move, just heave."

[hellblaze]

"She gave me a rang. Who would think that you'd have a prank caller in the middle of nowhere?" He passed it along as a joke. It was all in good fun anyways. "Good lass, she is. Seen a bit more of life than I'd like... but that's just how this sort of life is. It leaves its mark on you."

Like John would give two shakes about bad language.

"Usually running water is a sort of barrier. It's why evil spirits can't pass rivers or lakes in most mythos. Managed to replicate it myself with a hose and a spell. Kept a fallen angel inside a barn." John honestly didn't care how fantastical that sounded. It was true.

"Sounds more like something was using the rain to keep us in though."

[tinstar]

Raylan 'ah'd with a nod as he dusted off his hands and came around to the handles, lifting the wheelbarrow with a shallow grunt. The darkest part of his mind couldn't help but wonder how many men John had killed - Not lured into the ground with promises or deals, not that Raylan knew that anyway - but killed, by his own hands. He didn't ask. Why risk ruining a perfectly good working relationship?

It might not look like he was paying attention when people were talking about this stuff, but he was and had been slowly absorbing all the little fragments of information that people like John and Claire had been slipping into the conversation stream. Panning for Weirdness.

"In was definitely the idea that was impressed upon me... You don't think we're dead and we just don't know it, do you?"

[hellblaze]

Not as many by his own hands as one might have thought. Most were through round about means or collateral damage. Every single one of them weighed on him though. It would be a lot to answer at Judgement Day, and hopefully he'd have enough good deeds under his belt to save his soul.

"Doubt we'd be dead." John shook his head with a frown. Then his eyes moved upwards. "I know where I'm headed when I die."

And it wasn't Heaven.

[tinstar]

"Most of us, made it to adulthood, are going to hell if there is one," Raylan assured casually as he pushed on. "Figure we all mess up enough as it is, bound to hit that tripwire. Those that say they ain't or won't are probably lyin' to themselves."

If that helped at all, his ignorant, innocent view.

[hellblaze]

"There's a difference between thinking you're going to Hell and knowing it, mate." His tone was low, a bit quiet, keeping the light up so Raylan could see where he was going. Oh, John still had that swagger in his step, but he certainly had a different tone now. "Almighty tends to be a bit more forgiving of certain things, they say."

Except for what he did. For once? It isn't something he disagrees with. He is guilty of it. That doesn't mean he won't stop from trying to change his destination. He'll find a way to save Astra's soul and therefore his own.