villagelogs | 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.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He'd find a similar mind in the Marshal next to him. Raylan had put nearly 30 men in the ground, all men who wanted to test him and his draw skill one way or the other and his gun wasn't a toy but a little friendly testing could happen between skilled shooters. He only drew when he meant to kill but that didn't mean he didn't hit the range or work to perfect the skill.

"She's somethin' alright," Raylan replied with a faint nod of his head, opting to not talk about how the space and lack of company affected him. It certainly did, but talking about his feelings was very low on Raylan's skill set. "Hellva fireplace and got two bathrooms too, so we can forfeit one to brewin, if you think we can find the goods. Fire should still be goin' so it should be warm. Come a few hours-" Since 'daybreak' seemed as impossible as ghosts at that exact moment. "Maybe after catching a few Z's, I'll go start pullin' out walls. See if I can't find us some copper pipe for this experiment." He looked over sidelong again.

"You really think we can manage it?"

Doc is certain the Marshal has already given the place a good once over but he does find himself lookkng out for any anomalies - any bullet holes, splintered wood, paint jobs that might be covering something up and the like - as he steps onto the porch, eyes darting around the front wall while taking a few steps left and right to check the creaking floorboards.

"I'll need a few days. Little over a week at most. And that bathroom." And Doc sounds just as confident as he did about his prowess with a firearm so. Hopefully that puts Raylan's doubts to rest.

"Have a little faith, Marshal." Lord knows there's not enough of that going around.

Doc wouldn't find any - it was a painfully uninteresting building in that, just weathered by the salty air but Raylan had tossed it with a certain kind of focused vigour. The floor creaked but only slightly; it was a newer home, whatever its age.

"Tend to be runnin' short on that nowadays, faith." Raylan smirked sadly as he opened the door and lead the way into a warm front room, pulling off his hat to card the other through his hair as he shivered off the cold of the dark. Gesturing at the chair in front of the fire, the solitary one he'd been sitting in on and off for the past few days and getting the worst half hour of sleep he'd ever gotten in his life, he continued. "Fire's gonna need some wood but I've got a stack of it in the back. Make yourself at home, I ain't claimed either of the rooms so it's gentleman's choice."

Doc breathes out a contented little sigh once they're in the house, warm and dry and somewhat safe. Little things that add immeasurable comforts to their lives.

"I can take that one," he offers, gesturing with his head over his shoulder. It's the small bedroom in the corner so either the morning light doesn't bother him - if morning ever rolls around again - or the darkness does.

"Thank you kindly, Marshal." He appreciates it, more than he is letting on. Doc will probably hang around for a bit, help with the fire or anything else before making himself comfortable.

Raylan nods with a gesture towards the room. "Then it's yours. Ain't no trouble, John Henry." He started to turn away and stopped, turning back with a lift of his hat.

"You got a preference on which I call ya? I already met a guy named John but I can make adjustments to clarify in conversation."

"An interesting fella by the name of Constantine?" Yeah, Doc is calling what he witnessed 'interesting' until he finds a better descriptor.

"Henry will do me fine." Or 'Hank', for something even shorter. He was briefly called those things. Doc plays his cards close to his chest on the first date, but give him a few days and he will give Raylan his other names.

"It was my father's name, actually." So, not his last name then. "But I am happy to bear it."

Raylan nodded shortly with a faint lift of his brows. Oh so they'd met? Good. The circle of community was startin' to turn.

"Henry it is." It was nice that someone was proud of their father, for any reason. Raylan gave him a soft curl of his smile and another bob of his head. "I'll pull in a few more logs for the fire, give it a little somethin' to eat on before callin' it."

He bobbed his head politely and headed out towards the woodpile.

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

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no subject

Wanna start wrappin this one now that we've got a second thread?

Yes sure

jsyk I'm happy to let them chat more, in the future! and more than 1 thread!

yessss it's okay, we can always start more threads 🤠

yes! we can call it wrapped here I think.