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

Entry tags:

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.

navigation | faq | setting | mod contact

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Coulson's still in investigator mode when John enters the scene. At first, he doesn't turn around because he's still working on getting his soot sample (for all the good it's going to do him) when he notes the other man grabbing up a pinch of ash and putting it on his tongue. The resulting noise gets Coulson to turn around properly. ]

You can tell the properties of something just by tasting it?

[ Maybe that's not the most astonishing thing in the world, but Coulson certainly wouldn't be able to distinguish between book dust and plain dust, for example. If that's the case, then John just might actually come in handy. If he's amenable, of course. ]

Oh, I know the difference between dust and ash. [ He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. ] Animals and humans, well, they've got a distinct energy about it.

[ John is almost used to just rattling off the odd occult things he knows to the unsuspecting people around him. Either they'll ask or they wont. No point in hiding his skill set and what he can and can't know.

Then, he nods to what's in Coulson's hand. ] Planning on taking that to a home science kit, mate?

[ He huffs out a laugh, realizing that his words probably are more of a foregone conclusion than anything else. Dust and ash are just dissimilar enough that anyone ought to be able to tell them apart. ]

I suppose that was a silly question, but I can't say I've encountered anyone who prefers using taste as their method of choice.

[ He can just picture the face Fitzsimmons would make about such a thing. ]

You can tell all that from just a taste? [ He's heard of people who specialize in the mystical and spiritual, but never really met one in person before. ]

Something like that. If I had one, it would really come in handy right about now. It's probably not going to tell me anything that can't already be determined from looking around, but-

Taste tends to help now and then. Especially when magic isn't so much of an option. Physical, tactile residue. Bit harder to mask that than magic.

[ John takes a few more steps around as he looks. ]

Energies don't come so much the taste. Feelings you get -- and sometimes the mystical toy if you've got one.

[ Which, sadly, he does not have here. ]

...But?

Just so we're clear, when you talk about magic, I'm assuming you mean more than just the kind of sleight of hand you see on TV.

[ He shrugs, not really completely certain where he was going with that train of thought. ]

I'm not holding my breath for it, but there's really no reasoning with wishful thinking. I know a couple of scientists from home, and they would make short work of determining its composition.

[ Not that he wishes any of this on them, of course. ]

Making quarters disappear? Sawing a woman in half? [ He snorts. ] I mean proper magic, mate. Summoning, casting, invoking the names.

[ John makes a face. ] Here I was really hoping you had a science kit here. [ Is he serious? WHO KNOWS~ ] Let's go along with your science idea then, yeah? Occam's Razor. Easiest and simplest solution. Leaves you with two options...

Either someone really didn't like the local librarian, or, there was some light reading they didn't want people to find.

Sorry, it's just that I've never met anyone who could really carry that sort of thing out. Actually, I've never met a television magician either, so clearly I'm not an expert here.

And that makes two of us; it seems to me that this place isn't too interested in throwing us any bones. [ He gets it, though. Serious or not, even the most basic of science kits would be extremely useful right about now. ]

Both of those options just raise more questions than answers, though. Still, let's say that we focus on the first one for the moment.

[ Don't mind him, he's just putting his investigator's hat on. ]

What did the librarian do that made people so angry?

[ Assuming it was arson and not an unlucky accident. That's where a detective's kit would come in handy. But instincts and intuition can be just as good sometimes. ]

[ John rolls his eyes a bit. He pulls out a quarter from his pocket, showing it between his two fingers. Then, he closes both hands and reopens them -- now the quarter is in the other hand. He closes them again, and it's gone. Poof. Right into thin air. Abrakafuckingdabra. ]

That or this place has too many bones in the closet. Maybe ten skeletons worth. [ He walks around the small area, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. ] Maybe asked them to be quiet too many times? Charged them book fees? Or, was hiding something for local officials?

[ John looks back at him with a shrug. ]

[ He chuckles at John's little coin trick. ]

Smooth. I barely even saw the coin move. [ Which is, of course, the point. He's not going to be looking too closely either way. Either John is a bona fide magician or he's just a sleight of hand expert. ]

That's also a possibility, yes. [ But said bones aren't going to do them a lot of good. ]

Anything's possible, and I don't mean to go straight from 1 to worst case scenarios, but that's as good a theory as any.

[ The hiding one, not the first two. ]

But we have no evidence to back it up. And then assuming that the library contained information someone didn't want being found, that just raises more questions.

[ Which takes them back to his earlier complaint about there being no leads to follow. ]

[ He gives Coulson a look, giving both of his sleeves a shake. No coin falls out. ] Because it didn't move. Not physically.

Why else would you burn down a library then? Usually it's based on information. [ He walks around with his hands stuffed in his pockets now. ]

Suppose there's only one option then.

See, that right there is why I'll never have a career in magic. It all goes flying right over my head.

[ He shrugs, because this is all highly theoretical, and spitballing isn't really clearing the water. ]

It could have been your run of the mill arsonist, or an accident. A very convenient accident, but who's to say it didn't start off that way, and someone just used it to their advantage?

Depends on how long you want to study the craft. It's not rocket science, mate.

[ He tilts his head and looks down at the charred floor underneath them. A few digs with the tip of his shoe. Huh. ]

Arsonist would of gone for the whole building. Accident.. maybe, but, then, they got damn lucky at stopping it this far. [ The last option though. That's possible. ] Better question would be: why keep the no-no books in the library? Why not some hidden passageway?

No? I don't suppose you're offering lessons, in between trying not to die and figuring out whatever mysteries this place doesn't want us to find. Or is it one of those things you can study for yourself?

[ Yes, he figures they all should have other priorities here, but there's no harm in asking. ]

Do you think it could be a diversion? Keep some of the books here, while hiding the other, more important books elsewhere? Why would anyone keep looking, if they thought they found everything they needed right here? Also, if they thought the entire collection was destroyed, then there'd be no point in continuing to look.

[ It's a lot of theoretical questions, and he figures he's way off base, but asking questions can lead to answers sometimes. ]

You need a bit of magic in you to really do magic. Oh, sure, I can teach you all you'd like. Doesn't mean much other than knowing if you can't actually do it.

[ Meaning: yes, he could. No, he probably won't bother. He's not one for taking in apprentices. ]

Could of been. Maybe they took the juicy bits before the place was torched. Sort of like the underground for mysterious books. Nothing to say you're right or wrong.

[ He half turns either way before smiling to himself. John takes the few strides over before grabbing one of the nearby chairs. He drags it back behind him. Then, he sets a foot on the seat and tests how heavy it is. ]

Yeah, well, I know I don't have that. I'm about as normal as they come.

[ Except for one small detail, but he's still not sure who he can tell that to, if anyone. Still, it won't hurt to test the waters. ]

In your line of work, have you ever seen anyone get brought back to life?

[ Maybe it's too pointed a question, and maybe his hunch is wrong because he's been wrong about people before, but somehow, John doesn't seem the type of person who flaps his lips just because he can. ]

I guess we'll never know for sure. Like you said, there's nothing here to confirm or deny that.

Oh, aren't we all?

[ He looks up at Coulson at that question. Then a huff of a laugh. ]

Reanimating the body isn't hard -- called necromancy. Temporary resurrection? A bit easier with the right tools. The rest... either someone is bloody unfortunate or they've got a nasty curse.

[ There's other reasons. Though, sometimes people have a hard enough time just chewing on that bit. So, he'll leave it there. ]

We just have to find the right way to confirm it.

[ With that he raises the chair in his hands up. Then, he smashes it intro the ground. Hard. ]

Some of us more than others.

[ And then he decides to roll the dice. ]

Okay, so what would you say if I told you about someone who got injected with blood from an alien corpse and got brought back to life that way?

[ He wonders if maybe this is one of those things that gets easier to talk about the more he does it. He's not holding his breath, though.

But then he watches as John lifts the chair and smashes it, waiting to see if anything happens after that curious display. ]

That? Sounds more like science to me, but, if you're looking for a magical theory to it? [ A sniff. ] Easy enough. Beyond being able to tie lineage together? It's got life energy in it. Right spell and enough of it? You could theoretically make someone come back with it.

[ Not that he recommends it. That sounds like a messy way to bring about a reanimation spell. Still, blood tends to be used in those.

He pauses for a reaction. Huh. John tilts his hand and lifts the chair again--WHAM. ]

[ He huffs out a dry laugh. ]

Well, I doubt that my boss has secret magical powers, but thanks for the explanation. I don't mind saying that most things involving magic are a little bit over my head. And above my pay grade.

[ Now he just focuses on John and his chair-smashing efforts. ]

I could be wrong, but I think you might need some added force to that.

[ And having said that, he grabs another one of the chairs nearby and drags it over. ]

Any objections? [ This is John's experiment, and Coulson doesn't intend to step on any toes. ]

Good thing I don't need a pay grade to deal with magic, eh?

[ Meaning he'll cover whatever questions anyone has.

He pauses at the comment, looking over as the man joins. He grins at that. Oh, he likes him. ]

Not at all, mate. Happy to have a hand in it. [ To that, he offers his own. ] John Constantine.

[ He reaches over to shake John's hand, offering an introduction and asking a further question in almost the same breath. ]

Phil Coulson. You're not going to comment on how I just hinted that my boss might have had connections to the whole alien blood injections?

[ He's getting the sense that not much fazes John, but at the very least, he expected a raised eyebrow or something. ]

And there's no might have about it. He was the one who gave the order.

[ But getting back to the chairs and the floor smashing, he adds: ]

How about a joint effort? Combined force?

[ There's a brief nod at the handshake. Right, back to business. ]

I fight demons on a near daily basis. The idea of alien injection really doesn't surprise me. Especially after meeting people across the multiverse.

[ He looks back at the chair and gives it a good shake. ]

Joint might make us hit the bottom. Now, what do you think are the odds of there being something hidden underneath here? Probably one in a million, right?

I suppose none of this fazes you, then. But I didn't just get injected with alien blood. They opened up my brain and altered my memories to make me forget it ever happened. But the brain is tricky, and memories that you'd think are gone for good, are still buried in there somewhere. It just takes a little encouragement to get them back.

[ Encouragement that he wouldn't put his worst enemy through, but details. ]

That's what you're going for, isn't it? And yeah, I'd guess it's about that much, but we'll never know unless we try, as trite as that sounds.

The lack of animals is a bit worrisome. Same with the fact that there's no bloody ghosts here. [ There's a frown at that. ] We all would of had to be injected with alien blood, and, aliens really aren't my style.

[ Summoning a demon into himself to solve a problem? More like him. ]

That and taking out frustration is damn cathartic. [ He gives a gesture. ] After you, mate.

[ Coulson just ponders all of that while he lifts the chair and gets ready to slam it down. ]

Who knows, you might have dislodged some of the boards already.

[ He's just venturing a guess here, because apparently John is a lot stronger than he looks. ]

(no subject)

hellblaze - 2020-12-11 07:33 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only