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]

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.]

[hellblaze]

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.

[tinstar]

[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.

[hellblaze]

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.

[tinstar]

Shit. [Yup, that was it, that was his whole response. Sorry, he was going to have to chew over that for a little while.]

Hope you don't charge tithin' to stay in here. For me or anything else. Doubt my cards work out here.

[When in doubt, Raylan didn't rock the boat. Not over this. This unexplainable - except apparently not - stuff, he figured it was better to shut up and go along. Possibly also stay alive because of it. This was a crazy place and, when he thought about it, there was something reassuring about people who at least sounded like they understood any part of what the night had put on them.

It was only the night that he was really focused on, for obvious reasons. The town could go fuck itself and wait til morning. Whatever counted as that anymore.]

[hellblaze]

[ Chew away. It's a bit hard to swallow at first. John's just been living this life for so long it's just the way things are. Well, it is, but that's not the point. ]

Not the sort of man to demand money for my services. Well, not for information that'll help us survive. Employing me is a bit different.

Surprised you don't know a bit more about salt from the good old book.

[tinstar]

My granddaddy was a preacher. Arlo railed against him but Frances, my mother, still made me get up on every Sunday to go hear a sermon. [It was all relayed casually, with no hint to the underlying issues, and Raylan smiled briefly, crookedly at the mention of his mother.] Only salt I remember is Lot's wife, looking back at Sodom and Gomorrah.

I was never much of a listener, when it came to this kinda stuff. Never got quite as into it as other people.

[His granddaddy had been just as cruel as Arlo, as he'd heard it told and the way Arlo acted, he believed it. It pushed them all away from the good ol' book. No loving God let people treat kids the way Arlo had.]

[hellblaze]

Hm. Never did go to church as a kid. [ John smirks back and shrugs. ] That's the big bit. But, they mention it a bit here and there. Metaphorically and what not in the New Testament. Worth the read over, if nothing else, just to prepare yourself for whatever evil is lurking in the dark here.

[tinstar]

I'll pass. 'Sides, I'd hate to put you out of a job as a professor to us unchristened sheep. [Look at that, already a foot in the door of belief. It just let Raylan be lazy.]

The sun goin' out messes with me more than the voices, honestly. Never realized I need it that much.

[hellblaze]

[ He snorts. ] Not much of a preacher, me. Just try to kick demons back to the sorry pit hole of Hell they came out of. The angelic types certainly aren't going to do it.

Sunny-D helps.

[tinstar]

And somehow, I think if I asked you for chapter and verse, you'd have it. Nah, you wanna hear preacher, you should meet Boyd Crowder. [The same Boyd he'd yelled out for in the darkness.] He could inspire the dead to walk if they weren't used to his bullshit. He makes it sound almost good too, which is a feat of its own.

Damned to hell and pushin' companions down there to join you, [he mused out loud.] Just sayin' fuck the man while you can? [His head tilted a little.] Doesn't upper management .. appreciate the animal control?

[For lack of better terms.]

[hellblaze]

Depends on if it was relevant to my particular set of skills. [ Boyd Crowder. He feels that's a name to remember, just in case. ] I suppose you don't mean actual necromancy.

[ Did he ever mention he mastered that art a while ago? ]

... I've got a list of demons waiting for me there. All fighting each other to take a good nick back at me. [ John shrugs casually, as if it isn't a big deal. Even if it does scare him on some level. ] Oh, they appreciate the deed. Just not how the deed is done. Until things get bad enough they need a bastard like me to be their fucking foot soldier.

[tinstar]

'Its not hard to raise a family unless their buried close together'? [Raylan smirked again briefly.] I was not, no.

[But he listened to the rest silently with only a slight narrowing of his eyes - a natural and largely unreadable look. But his gears were turning.] So more rules and less forgiveness, huh? Sounds like some old testament shit.

[hellblaze]

I wouldn't want to be buried close to my family. [ John shrugs--he's deadly honest about that. Ha. Deadly. ] Good thing. Nasty business, necromancy. Always messy.

Tends to be the case when you use the non-holy powers to get a job done. [ He rubs his eyes then. ] I have to wonder what will happen with that lovely Rising Darkness now that I'm stuck here. Unless this is apart of it.

[tinstar]

Most people don't. One day I'll tell you about the graves outside my old house.. But not tonight. [That was a story for any other time.]

You find a lot of coincidences in your work? [He, personally, didn't. Always something to consider.]

[hellblaze]

Not sure I'd want the physical reminders. I've got enough ghosts haunting me without their fucking tombstones lurking around.

[ A shrug. ] Not a big believer of coincidences, me. Things happen for a reason. It's just finding out what that reason is.

[tinstar]

You don't, trust me.

[He bobbed his head.] There's your most likely answer.

[Raylan followed that with a heavy breath and pulled off his hat before rubbing at his eyes.] Think I might take you up on that sleepin' bag now. Which one ain't been claimed?

[hellblaze]

Oh, trust me, Raylan. I'm the one that shouldn't be trusted. We've all got a few skeletons in the closet. Intent and context matter, even if the angels tell you otherwise.

[ He turned and gestured to the few sleeping backs over at the couch. ] Pick whatever one fits your fancy.

pretty good place to call it?

[tinstar]

Well thanks for tellin' me that before I try to get some sleep, it's very comforting, [he replied, grunting softly as he pushed himself to his feet and took off his hat, dropping it on top of a lamp shade.]

Maybe it does and maybe it don't. Some skeletons are bare bleached bones.

[He looked back at John for a moment.] Thanks for the save out front and the bag. Y'all kick me if somethin' happens.

/wraps it up in a bow!

[hellblaze]

Better than in the middle of a nice sweet dream about good ol' Kentucky, eh?

[ Though if he turned up to tell Raylan a message through his dreams? Then there was definitely something wrong. No, he'd leave the astral messaging to the people who needed to get into contact with him. Especially from beyond the grave. ]

Oh, kicking. I'll be sure to do that. Haven't gotten arrested here yet. [ He pulled out a cigarette with a bit of a laugh and lit it. ] Sweet dreams.