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]

"A few more nights under my belt. Lucky me." John scratches the top of his head. When he gets deep down in those areas of his mind that motivate him? He isn't pleasant to be around. It's why people usually just leave him alone to drink by himself. All that self hate just comes billowing out with no real way to stop it. "Unless the Rising Darkness is affecting this place too."

There's a thought he'd rather deal without.

He points to the chair on the edge of the salt line. "Some blankets and a few sleeping bags. Looks like the people who lived here before were big on the camping."

[thering]

"Well it's plenty dark alright." He's not familiar with this growing evil, rising darkness business. Getting up, he goes to fetch the blankets and throws one at Constantine's face when it's safe and he's got the cigarette in his hand to his side. Blondie needs to loosen up a bit.

It's a lot warmer now, sitting by the fire with a few blankets on their laps. Now they just need knitting needles and a few cats. And a lot less negativity, perhaps, since the whispers and the negative thoughts are hitting them stronger than ever.

Some food wouldn't hurt though. All this salt isn't doing much for them.

"Much as I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day here, I suppose you'll be needing some supper." Yes, he is offering to fetch.

[hellblaze]

John huffs at the blanket, but nods in thanks as he drapes it over his shoulders and just... sits there. His shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the fire. He lets out a thin line of smoke before falling back into that silence that stretches on for a small bit.

"Haven't bothered to make much. Powers out." John looks over at Doc with his eyebrows raised. "Unless you can think of something other than popcorn to go over the fire."

[thering]

He's not really a marshmallow kind of guy, but he did pack a few days' worth of food from the Grey Gull, in case he was spending another night out alone in the field or going further to explore more of the town. Doc has to climb out of the salt circle to get back to his duffel bag, and as he gets up with a little groan, he hesitates just before crossing the line.

When he doesn't get instantly mauled or torn into pieces by some phantom monster, he breathes out a sigh and moves over to his bag, crouching down to pull out some sandwiches and some meat and potatoes wrapped in foil.

"I do hope you aren't vegetarian," he muses before making his way back to Constantine's side, tossing the food still in the foil wrapping onto the fire. "Or fussy," he adds. He's not a chef by any stretch of the imagination.

[hellblaze]

"Oh, you know me old son, prefer the fried fish and chips." John replies dryly, but isn't turning down any sort of food. He watches the toss before turning his head to look at the man beside him. "That's how they must of cooked it in the olden days, eh? Probably without the tin foil."

[thering]

And what exactly will Doc be filling a deep fryer with, pray tell? Flattering though that John would entrust him with such a task.

"We used to use tin foil to fill in missing teeth," Doc points out, flashing a smile over to John. Those weren't the good old days, in this particular case. "Back in the day when it was actually made out of tin, and not abundant enough to be wasted on food wrapping." Suffice to say, it's not as new of an invention as it appears to be.

"I much prefer the microwave, myself. It's only charming if you aren't needing to spend three hours on simple tasks everyday."

[hellblaze]

Could try seeing if the fish in the ocean are cursed! Though, really, probably best not to test it.

"Hm. Didn't know it was that old." John gives a casual shrug. He didn't do much studying in that regard. "Filling in missing teeth, eh? Bet it must of been fun."

He chuckles a bit at that. "They say things were slower back then. Wasting three hours wasn't really wasting then."

[thering]

"I was a dentist, among other things. Preferred poker though." Faster and easier money, to boot. And he didn't want to die at an unripe young age having spent his life peering into mouths. He might have made for a decent dentist but life had other more eventful ideas in store.

"Things most certainly were not 'slower'," Doc scoffs. "30 seconds at the-- getting shot at back then feels just as long as 30 seconds of getting shot at right now. And watching someone you love out of the corner of your eye for 30 seconds feels just as short." Doc prods at the food and moves them to an unburnt log to cool down. Everything is precooked at least so it won't take three hours to reheat right now.

"Having said that, you are all rather unfriendly these days. Found things to keep yourselves busy."

[hellblaze]

"A poker loving dentist. That's my sort of man." John has a tired flirting smile on his face, but his shoulders sag as he rolls his head backwards. It'd been awhile since he played power. "Then where do you think that saying of 'time has sped up' comes from? More things to do and keep our minds busy?"

At least busy enough to not think about the voices in the back of the room.

"Somehow I doubt I'd be friendlier even if I was in the good ol' days." John has a bit of a laugh there. "Once a bastard, always a bastard."

[thering]

"In my opinion? Some folks gone and gave other folks different ideas about what life's about." Now he might have wasted much of his so far locked away in a most terrible personal prison, but he thought he knew what life was about, what he wanted.

"I was after a good time, some good company and a few good drinks along way. I was fortunate enough not to get good women killed. There wasn't any of this- other stuff." He's referring to the glimpses of the rat race he's managed to catch so far, but he doesn't know the term for it.

[hellblaze]

"Can't say you'd be wrong in that, Henry. Most people have forgotten about the existential in favor of cyberspace." John leans backwards until he is laying on the ground. He'd say he was staring at the ceiling, but it is just complete utter darkness beyond the flickering lights of candles and the fireplace. "They prefer the easy answers rather than the real answers."

Fortunate enough not to get good women killed. What a lucky bloke Henry turned out to be.

"'Other stuff' meaning what? The voices in the dark, or the dusty old abandoned town? I'd imagine there'd be a few of those out in the olden days."

[thering]

"No I meant. Generally speaking. Everyone's been giving themselves reasons to be unhappy." Whether that's because they're measuring themselves against others or because they've been told by whoever that they always need something or someone or somewhere else in their life. It's like nobody knows how to just... make do with what they have, anymore.

"I have been through many a town built around good fields for feeding cattle, a strong river or a decent mine. A few bad years or a depleted mine, a big fire or a flood might see a town start to empty out, yes. But we were resilient folk, if nothing else. If it was all we had, there wasn't any other choice. Many chose to rebuild and keep going." There was no guarantee that the grass was greener on the other end of the railroad tracks. Or that there was even any grass there.

Which doesn't explain why Doc had been chasing highs from one town to the next, having the time of his life, but...

"When I fell ill and knew it was terminal I decided I didn't want to die having done nothing, seen nothing, met nobody. The only answer there ever is is life is full of shit and it's up to you to make sommin' of it." For what it's worth Doc did try the good, honest day's work life and it didn't take. He had his reasons and he'd like to think that they were good reasons.

"Here." The food is ready and sufficiently cooled down to handle. He passes one foil-wrapped bundle over. Hopefully it'll put Constantine in a better mood, because all this is depressing talk and there's no whiskey to wash it all down with.

[hellblaze]

John clicks his tongue at that. Giving themselves reasons to be unhappy? How much of that is true, and how much of it is just they've come to realize how bloody shitty the modern world has become? It's worth wondering. Still, he feels it doesn't change his point. It's easier to ignore how the world really is and go about the life with the telly or the cellphone.

"Well, being long lived like you are? I'm sure you've done plenty of meeting someones and seeing things, mate. Ticked each box on your list." John puts his hands behind his head and keeps his eyes on the unseen ceiling. Until he mentions food, then John is pushing himself up and reaching out for the food with a nod of thanks. "All we can ever hope is to be doing what we can. We're all stuck together in this shitty reality trying to get by."

[thering]

"Actually I-" he starts, glancing over at Constantine before deciding to continue. What the hell. No point keeping all these secrets anyway.

"After the witch done our deal she threw me into a well. Knew I didn't cope well in small, dark spaces. I was there for a hundred thirty years." Give or take a few years.

"World changed while I wa'n't looking." Doc shrugs at the fire. Is he talking just to John or a bunch of dismembered voices also trapped here in a big old boarding house, haven given up hope long time ago for a way out? Who knows.

"You're the first gentleman I've met with that accent. Many boxes still unticked, like everyone else."

[hellblaze]

A deal. Huh. John isn't one that can judge on that. After all, he made that deal to save himself from death and let a demon hitch a ride.

"Must of been one hell of a well if you couldn't pull yourself up. Deep, even." John comments easily. He chuckles lightly at that, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. "I suppose our Marshal doesn't count as a bloke with an accent then?"

[thering]

"His accent I know." Yep, Doc is most definitely Not Talking about the well. Or the witch. The marshal is a much easier topic. Raylan didn't even need to tell Doc where he was from for him to be able to place him based on that drawl.

"Yours is... different. Hell I do say a fair number of things about you are different." He gives John a wary side-eye before poking at his own parcel of food.