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

[tinstar]

Raylan smirked at that, finding it a little amusing that Henry chose his first name and not his last.

"Calgary, Canada?" He let out a low whistle before his brain processed the rest of what John had said. 'Only just finished building the railroad'. As it set in what that suggested, Raylan's head pulled back a little, eyes still narrowed. Which Calgary he'd been talking about no longer mattered.

"You know it's different. What are you tellin' me.." Oh, he knew, in a roundabout way, but he was only just getting his teeth into the idea of magic being a real thing - Time Travelers didn't fit into the puzzle just yet. If John was just from the past, he wouldn't be aware that Georgia was vastly different from the railroad days, or he would have said 'I imagine'. There was too much confidence for all that - John Henry wasn't speaking in hypotheticals.

[thering]

He hasn't been back to Georgia lately to confirm how different it looks, but yes, he knows it will look nothing like home. Not that home means all that much to him anymore.

"Been around a while." Long enough to have seen the railroad being built in his travels. No time travelling involved, unless you count trudging through the years the slow way around. Although they probably do have at least one or two time travellers in their midst. Doc hasn't found out everything there is to know about everyone just yet.

"What year was it, for you, before you came here?"

[tinstar]

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

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

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

[thering]

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

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

[tinstar]

If Raylan's eyes squinted anymore, they would have been closed. He stared at Doc for a long moment then took a breath and focused back on the fire. 2017 as an answer only served to confuse him more, though it was only the 'hows' and not so much the 'what' that had caught him.

"Huh," he half grunted, frowning at the flames. "And here I thought 43 was startin' to get old." Oh yeah, he had.. a mountain of reasonable questions, but he wasn't great at these.

A beat passed and he found one he could manage. "Why don't you look old?"

[thering]

Doc doesn't flinch. He's either used to being scrutinised or it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it should. He himself never made it to 43 by natural means, having been endowed 'eternal longevity' a few years before that.

"Made a deal with a pretty little devil." Less devil and more witch, but. The devil also happens to be in the details. "I was dying, of tuberculosis. She promised a cure, eternal life."

He flashes a small smile at Raylan then. "You must think me a coward. But I've been dying for over twenty years at that point and I figured, well hell, why not?"

[tinstar]

This time, Raylan didn't look away, watching the faint shift in Doc's profile as he continued on. Deals with the devil was the kind of 'stuff of legend' that ran strong in the foothills but generally, Raylan lumped that in with religion, another unspoken bomb of pragmatic beliefs that didn't match the dogma.

"For findin' a way out of TB?" Raylan shook his head once as he looked back at the fire. "Where I come from, mining is a major industry. Coal mining. Leads the guys that work to the black lung. Not the same as TB maybe but I don't imagine dyin' to be any easier because of the reason you can barely breathe."

He looked over again, eyes narrowed like he could find a lie in Doc's pocket, or make any reasonable sense as to why this was a beneficial choice of one.

"What'd you give up in return?" Every transaction had two sides. He got.. immortality, Raylan supposed, but the giving was just as important as the getting.

[thering]

"I don't much like small, dark spaces." Which doesn't necessarily explain why he's out here alone with only a weak fire for light and memories for company. But at least it's out in the wide open.

"So she threw me in the bottom of a well for a hundred and thirty years." That she did it to spite someone else stings, of course, but the bite of it was not the lengths to which they took Wyatt Earp apart. It was never that. He didn't take kindly to her preying on his claustrophobia.

"Give or take. Felt much longer than that, you can imagine."

[tinstar]

He winced in response, clucking softly as he looked back at the fire. At least fire was still simple..

"Surprised you didn't go mad down there." He glanced over briefly, just in case Doc had gone mad and was just hiding it. He didn't get that sense and he couldn't make it appear because it might make sense to do so.

"This mean the Devil is a woman?" He'd still hold his doubts, pragmatic man that he was, but he wasn't so inflexible or prideful to tell Doc that his personal experiences were wrong. This wasn't opining over the opinion of position on a lawful action - this was something far beyond the scope of the US legal system.

[thering]

"I probably did." Madness manifests itself in all sorts of different ways. For the most part he thinks he is fine, but. Sometimes in those early waking hours, he can't be sure of his grip on reality. The lack of familiar faces isn't helping. He's probably still sane because he has to be. There is no option or time to have a mental break.

"She was a witch. She's been taken care of now." Doc casually omits her whole demon husband thing. It's all very complicated and hopefully that chaos hasn't followed him here.

"Suppose this doesn't all make sense to you. But we have more pressing problems on our hands now."

[tinstar]

Raylan took a deep breath. "I ain't gonna lie to you; it sounds crazy as hell. My gut is to not believe it - Maybe you've done too many drugs, watched too many John Wayne movies and decided to fall into the era, but you ain't the first person here to suggest the impossible with the surety of the insane and none of the other trademarks."

There was no use in beating around the bush, not when confronted directly with his obvious hesitant belief. He was right - there was more important matters at hand.

"Can only argue with the sky fallin' down on me so long... There's stories, in the hills. About ghosts and sorrowful souls that haunt their land, chasin' off good Christian folk who don't know any better." Raylan quirked a faint, soft smile. "Maybe there was somethin' to the old stories after all. Lost their power over time or somethin' with our sense or belief."

He took a deep breath. "Plus, being here defies all the logic I've got anyway, so I'm already at a disadvantage."

[thering]

That's not the first time he's been called a ghost. Doc can only imagine the reaction when he has to tell Raylan the whole story. He's already left out a lot of details, as much as he can get away with that'll still let what he has said so far make sense.

"Would you like to tell me a story of yours? Either one that makes sense or does not." He is willing to listen and reserve judgement. They can hang around a little while longer before Raylan drags him off somewhere more habitable.

[tinstar]

The Marshal took a long minute to think about it, runnin' over what he might even want to share but.. Well, in the end, the shit he suffered wasn't nothing in comparison to tuberculosis.

"It ain't TB," he started, clearly not used to the invitation or quite how to take it. "Hell, worst I got is a baby on the way with my ex-wife, recently divorced from her husband that she left me for, as dramatic as that sounds." It was offered as though that might be interesting.

"Nah, I'm not much of a storyteller," he decided. "That skill is saved for other people. I'm just a guy with a gun tryin' to do my job. Worked in the mines when I was 19 though. I know what it's like to be under the earth. Almost died there, if it weren't for our headman minding the creaks." Now that Constantine had put the story of the dead miners warning the live ones in his head, he couldn't quite shake it off.

[thering]

That's an interesting revelation, considering Doc is in similar shoes. Without the complication of an ex or her exes, at least. Relationships are complex beasts and everyone has their reasons, doing what they do.

"Sounds like you'll be having a new job shortly," he observes quietly. Doc himself hasn't gotten as involved with the baby business. He figures it is not really his place. But he also doesn't know exactly how involved he is supposed to be, which doesn't help things.

"Better that she is there and not here at least." Imagine having to deliver a baby in this town. None of them would know what to do.

[tinstar]

Raylan actually laughed at that idea; Winona out here in her stilettos and pencil skirt. God, he'd never hear the end of that. "She wouldn't take it well and we'd all hear it. But yeah. In about seven months, if all things go to plan."

Namely because she wouldn't be able to avoid him. It was hard to get rid of Raylan if he had a mind, even over state lines; impossible when you couldn't go more than three hundred or so feet. "Though she's made it clear it's not gonna be a.. We won't be together for it."

The only indication that it bothered him was the soft flex of his jaw as he stared into the fire.

[thering]

Doc is really not in any position to be giving advice. He did promise to listen, not to force any input where it might not be needed. His own Wynonna is more stubborn than he is and no doubt she's already charted out what she is going to do with or without him. All he can do is be there if she needs him. Especially during those times she thinks she doesn't.

"You want to be," he observes quietly, in as neutral of a tone as he can give. "Because of the baby? Or because of her?" It can be both. But sometimes both means because of the baby and that is a path to certain ruination.

[tinstar]

It was a good question and the honest answer was both. Raylan had wanted her, even after she left him the first time. The thought of a baby only cemented that more. He stayed silent for a moment in response before filling a little of the silence with an actual one.

"Alls that matters is that she doesn't... Left me again the night before I got dragged here.. with a two sentence note. Leavin' because she needed space and that I shouldn't come after her." He glanced a tight, insincere smile briefly at Doc. "Less pressin' a reason to get home than others here, I'm aware."

[thering]

In Doc's experience? That's a classic trap he himself is prone to falling for. Go after her and she'll say he doesn't respect her or what she wants. Don't go after her and she'll say he never cared about her to begin with. If she's going to be angry either way, well, he figures why not just be there? If that's what Raylan wants, that is.

"Well. Suppose you are giving her plenty of space right now. But what you want matters too, son. The best kind of compromise is where nobody's happy. You ain't always gonna be right, but all you can do is do right by her, be there when she needs you. You need to be getting back as much as anyone else does."

And well, yes. Doc recognises that sitting around out here isn't helping either of them work towards that. He would hate to be directly or indirectly responsible for an expectant father's untimely demise just because he's made himself comfortable out here.

"Shall we be heading off?"

[tinstar]

What he wanted rarely mattered. Life had a way of falling out before him with little concern about what he wanted or hell, needed. It was a nice sentiment but it was hard to compromise when one side didn't want anything to do with the table. She wanted him to leave his job; he offered to go back to instructing. Wasn't enough. Too many years of knowing each other had somehow gotten in the way.

If he were still in Kentucky, space and peace were something that Winona wouldn't be able to find. Maybe being here was better, just for that. God he could use a drink.

"Yeah," he answered to the last question, ungracefully avoiding the sensible advice he appreciated but couldn't quite agree with due to his own cynical issues. "Nice fire and all, but it's warmer with walls. Least I can feel my fingers again."

He pushed to his feet. "Let's put it out and get goin'."

[thering]

At some point he will let on that he is in similar shoes. And maybe let on a lot more than that. His own story doesn't end with wells, witches and women. But for now, Doc is still playing the long game, putting down one card at a time.

He has so much time now, he's finding that it's not so bad to take things slow for once.

Adjusting his hat, he makes sure they're on their feet and ready to head off, left nothing behind and dropped nothing and the like before kicking some sand over the fire.

"I was close with a marshal back in the day," he offers once they are both slender silhouettes with hats navigating the dark. "Would be quite nice to become acquainted with another." And hey, he might have the occasional nightmare but at least he's not too much of a snorer. He promises to be an unintrusive guest.

[tinstar]

"You might be in luck. I happen to know a guy," he replied with a faint curl of his lips that he knew was hidden in the dark. "Even if I don't have my gun." But the job wasn't just shooting and if Doc was right about being close with a Marshal, he'd know that too.

"Can't imagine that doin' the job back then is too much different then how we do it now, ignorin' the cars for horses things. I take it you were a a contact and backup?" The other option was outlaw and while he didn't know Doc that well, he lacked a sleeze that Raylan usually found in those that would call themselves such.

[thering]

“Sommin’ like that.” The lines were not so clear back then, when the gun was the law and it was every man for himself. Everyone thought they were doing the right thing, else they wouldn’t be doing it. Being deputised was simple and drawing your gun on someone, pulling the trigger, an even simpler act. Death was commonplace and Doc’s rarely hesitated. Wasn’t full of all this- training and paperwork, rules and regulations.

“Should like to get my own guns back. And knife. This place doesn’t feel safe.” Never mind that he hasn’t had a reason to use them yet, nor has he managed to find any bullets. When the occasion arises, it’ll be too late.

But, they’ll do one thing at a time. First, the moonshine.

[tinstar]

Of course Doc shot - Raylan wasn't surprised to hear it. If he was telling the truth about when he came from, everyone and their mother generally knew how to handle a gun and those that didn't didn't really live long enough to make more people. Rough way of the world, but it was what it was - at least to his imagination with the context of gun filled Harlan behind him.

"No, it don't. And I can't put my finger quite on why." He glanced over uselessly, tracking his way back to the house by the straight line he walked to get here. "How well do you shoot? In case we do find weapons."

[thering]

It's in all the little things. The voices, the dread, the fog, the sheer emptiness of the place, the way they got here. All the little clues they can find haven't led them to any satisfying answers or good conclusions about the people who came before them.

But it's not so easy to sum up a bad vibe or what your gut instincts are screaming into one sentence.

"Better than you," Doc replies instantly with the confidence and surety of a man with a list of sins longer than he can count, looking deadly serious before he turns to look over at Raylan and cracks a suspiciously flirtatious smile.

The head tilt and small shrug comes as an afterthought. "Probably." There wasn't no paperwork or briefings or briefings after the briefings about the briefings every time he drew any of his weapons or used them, after all.

[tinstar]

That answer and the surety that came with it earned a real proper laugh out of Raylan, the first that he'd managed here that was beyond a bare chuckle. It shifted his face, not that Doc could really see it, into something much softer and more pleasant.

"Well, we'll just have to have a little contest when we get guns, won't we." It was unlikely that they'd find guns but the idea that they might and that Raylan had someone to test his raw skill against that didn't plan on killing him would be nice. Well, as far as he knew.

"We're just up here," he said, gesturing towards the house coming up on them.