villagelogs | 065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 065-071
WHAT: The residents of Mathias reunite under unnerving conditions.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross "Outside"

DAY 065-071
ASSIGN TO OBLIVION
“No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes
place in the interim, there are some things we can never
assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.”
— Haruki Murakami

Only two days have passed since the town was fractured, leaving residents cut off from those they'd come to know and even care for. A mere two days of wandering the new streets, uncovering more secrets that continue to make little sense of this strange place. Two days with sunrises, sunsets, and nights that seem like any other.

And yet.

When residents wake on this third day, they will find that much has changed. All around them, wherever they may be, there are signs that time has passed without them. Dust covers everything, indoors and out, even areas that were spotlessly clean seemingly hours ago. The residents themselves are covered as well, dust clinging to their hair, skin, and clothing—

Clothing that they may not have been wearing when they went to sleep. Each resident, regardless of the state they were in previously, is now clad in a pair of white pajamas, with long pants and button-up shirts. Those who thoroughly explored Baneberry Hall will easily recognize these articles as identical to those well-stocked in the decaying great house. On top of this, the clothes they wore from home have disappeared, along with anything else they may have brought with them when they arrived or items from home that have been found within the borders of Mathias.

There is no sign that anyone has entered their place of shelter, nor is there any sign of what may have been done with these items or how they came to be wearing these clothes. The dust all around them is undisturbed, almost as if they had been sleeping there for quite some time, though it seems impossible for such a thing to have occurred naturally.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the lawn of Town Hall, at the center of the little town square. They, too, are bereft of any items from home and clothed in the identical white pajamas. There are shops all around them, with houses just beyond, and at first glance, everything seems almost picturesque. Except for the silence that is at times so complete as to be maddening... Welcome to Mathias.

SUMMERTIME
— When summer arrives, so too does an outdoor stand in front of the General Store. Sporting a handpainted sign proclaiming Whateley Farm, the stand is overflowing with a variety of produce: berries, plums, carrots, cabbage, cucumbers, green beans, leeks, onions, peppers, potatoes, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic bulbs. These do not replace the produce offerings normally found inside the market, but they do behave strangely. The stand replenishes sporadically, sometimes every other day or every five days. There is no discernible pattern to when it replenishes, nor is there any sign of how it came to be there at all.

— With the now-complete reverse change of season, much of the autumn debris has cleared from around town. Only a few stray leaves and fallen branches remain, their crisp colors at odds with the warm summer days. The forest has also cleared of much of the fall detritus, making it easier to both follow the paths and potentially spy things that might be out of the ordinary.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— THE WEATHER Summer has arrived in Mathias, bringing with it warm days that average 70°F and comfortably cool nights. The skies are clear throughout the week save for Day 68 when a light rain falls from a grey sky throughout the day.

— THE FOG has maintained its new boundaries.
— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated from the western section of town entirely.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DISAPPEARANCES AND DEATHS continue! Max Guevara and Liz Brundy have disappeared, and now that everyone is back together, residents will notice that Yennefer, Number Five, and Tony Stark have also vanished.

— ALCOHOL supplies have run dry, save for any dregs that have been squirreled away by individual residents. Moonshine can still be acquired by those in desperate need.

OOC NOTES
— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made. IC events are also helpful to know about in advance so they can be included in the log write-ups.

— MOD STATUS My non-RP life is busy and chaotic and I continue to ask for your forgiveness and understanding as game things continue to be slower, as I cannot promise timely mod responses beyond weekends and even that is not wholly guaranteed.

— ITEMS FROM HOME All items from home that characters would normally possess have vanished for this log and will return in the next. This includes clothing and possessions they had when they arrived in Mathias, items that were found in the rain, and items that were found in Baneberry Hall and removed from the property. Items from home that were left behind by other characters no longer in the game have also vanished. (All other items and clothing still remain, it is only items from characters' homes that have disappeared.)

— BANEBERRY ITEMS The items from home that were not removed from Baneberry Hall in the last log have vanished from the property. These items will not reappear in the next log. (Please be sure to comment in the appropriate spot on those logs about the state of your character's item for inventory purposes, ie whether they were removed from the property or left behind.)

— ACTIVITY CHECK Beginning with June's AC (posted at the start of July), all tags that consist of only dialogue will count as 0.5 points, not just those that occur in an inbox thread — this applies to both AC and AP totals. This adjustment is an extension of what has been in place since the start of the game: that all dialogue-only inbox tags counted for a half-point. Since such tags have occurred regularly in log threads as well, the half-point status is simply being extended to all tags regardless of location in order to be fairer in point distribution. (Examples will be provided in the AC post to assist with proper counting.)

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Heartrenders. That paints a picture, doesn't it. It's too easy to think about how healers could be turned around to work as weapons. She shivers a little.

But there's something more important there, in the way he looks away. She hasn't forgotten Luda. She hasn't forgotten that dark promise. Athena takes a hesitant step closer, aware by now that he's not nearly as accustomed to hugging it out, as it were, as she is is. Uncertainly, she asks, "You're not the only one who lives so long, are you?"

Ellie looks pretty horrified at the very thought of any of that. She’s not thrilled to have slept through things, to not remember, to not know how much time has passed. But it sounds like she dodged a bullet this time. To think that someone else might have had to live through the worst of it, through the truth of the scar on her arm. No one left in town knows about it. Five knew. Doc knows she’s immune, but doesn’t know about the bite. Claire knew, but she’s been gone for awhile now. To think about Riley dying.

And the very worst of it, the source of her rage and her anguish. Joel, out of her reach. Joel, who she couldn’t save, who she can’t forgive, who she can’t let go of. She can feel herself start to choke on that now, the memory visceral and immediate. But she’s used to shoving it away, stamping it down. At least her memory remains her own, unshared and private.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she says, her voice thick with the struggle of that panicked memory. “So Mathias is still a fucking nightmare, huh? Yeah, I guess just waking up covered in dust isn’t that bad. Glad I missed out on your shitty field trip.”

She gets it together enough to halfway change the subject.

“Was it still fall or…whatever? I mean, like, was the weather still bullshit? It’s warm now but it wasn’t last I remember.”

One hand kept itself locked around Malcolm's legs as he rolled away and Raylan panted softly as he cleared his mouth with a few sticky swallows.

"It's not too bad," Raylan agreed, equally breathlessly with a grin, lifting his head in return to look down at Malcolm. "Considerin' I don't think I'd do that with anyone else."

She winces, nodding. It was true, Wynonna had her fair share of black eyes and fat lips, but she also had her mama's temper.

"Amen to that," she says, offering a vague shrug before taking another couple of mouthfuls. That's fine. She wasn't one to pry unless it had something to do with her and even then the odds were slim that she would care. So, Wynonna hands him back the shine and leans back to get more comfortable. "And I don't really get the bruises and cuts. I give them."

Her grin is a sly one, fading almost as quickly as it appeared.

"So, any ideas on the latest bs that this place put us through?" she asks.

Malcolm grinned lazily.

“Just me?” He let his head fall back onto the mattress and looked up at the ceiling, sated and content. “I’m so glad you came home tonight,” he mused. “I didn’t really want to move somewhere else.” But of course he would have if Raylan had to. “We chose this house together.” Hungover from the very first batch of moonshine. “It’s special. Even if it’s too small now.”

"Just you," Raylan repeated, grinning a little more broadly at that look on Malcolm's face before his head fell back and Raylan went ahead and let his did the same.

I didn’t really want to move somewhere else.

Raylan's brow furrowed a little.

"Move, what do you mean move? Who's asking you to move?"

“…You were going to live somewhere else,” Malcolm pointed out. “I’d go with you, if you had to do that. Obviously,” he said, as though it were obvious.

The hand around Malcolm's thigh tightened a little, breath half catching in his throat.

"But you've got everyone here-" Who treats you better, who doesn't break your heart. "-Ainsley, Doc, Neal.."

He didn't understand.

Malcolm lifted his head again to look at Raylan, then sat up and shifted around to curl up with his face near Raylan’s face.

“I’d know where to find them. It’s not ideal, us all living apart, but… I can’t let you just… go. I want to be there for you. You’ve always been there for me. Remember what I said? I want to be a safe place for you. I want to be with you.”

One of Doc's eyebrows crawls up and up towards his hairline before the other joins it. Doc 'I'm not your dad' Holliday has to resist the urge to tell her to watch her language.

"Well I am flattered, but I am too old for you. It is good to see you too. May I come in?" He has no doubt there's at least a bit of cleanup to do in there and he'd like to see how she's going.

Raylan let Malcolm's legs go, only to guide the profiler against his side with an arm and the same pinch of his eyebrows. His heart swelled at the warmth and solid form against him, even if he was still trussed up with the fear that Malcolm would open his eyes and realize that Raylan wasn't good for him.

Everyone seemed to see it except them.

"I don't want to lose you but I don't want to hurt you anymore." He hadn't left yet because Malcolm didn't want him too. Malcolm was the only thing really anchoring him to this house.

Malcolm’s brow pinched this time.

“What do you mean?” He frowned uncertainly, because he was sure this wasn’t it, but he couldn’t think of anything else that fit the criteria. “There isn’t someone else,” he said. More of a statement than a question. He promised there wouldn’t be more less than a week ago. He really didn’t think that was it. Before that could even be answered, he added “Don’t go,” his hand splaying on Raylan’s chest.

"Maybe I'll put a price on the next bottle then," Doc teases right back. He usually loses gay chicken at the very end but these days he might have managed, worryingly, to win one or two bouts.

"I 'on't know anybody who don't know how to shoot." It is something fathers teach their sons and occasionally daughters from a young age, and not just in Georgia. "I suppose in that respect the shooting had to have come first. But the gunslinging, well. I taught myself to shoot with my left hand after I got decent at gambling. One shouldn't be at a disadvantage whatever hand happens to be occupied, y'know." The only thing better than one Colt is two.

Tim's lips twitched. Since he knew that were he playing for real he'd absolutely win at gay chicken, he let Doc have the last word.

"How'd you do that?" Tim asked, settling back with his 'shine and a sincerely curious furrow between his eyebrows. "I've often thought about it, even gripped my pistol left just to see how it felt but it never set right in my palm. Wrist always feels too weak when I have it up against the beaver tail."

"I'm not," he promised again, one hand sliding over Malcolm's splayed hand to tuck their fingers around one another. "You're the only reason why I'm not. You're the only reason I'm still here. But I know I can't do it all on my own. If I were better, if you were.. If this place was normal maybe but. It's not. And part of me feels like shit for not bein' able to handle it all."

"That's why I said 'might'," Raylan argued conversationally as he crumpled up the paper for his sandwiches and basketballed them into the trash. Raylan couldn't help the scoff of a half chuckle at Doc's arguments. "That's most of the world, Henry. You're gonna find more people like him than not. Unmannered and illspoken doesn't mean much beyond people bein' 'normal' nowadays."

As Henry came back with the second bottle, Raylan pushed his glass out for a refill.

"But you've got a right to your opinion and I'm not here to try and change your mind." Just trying to make sure Negan can get back in the front door. "'Sides, blink too long and we'll all be gone anyway and it won't matter."

[ He doesn't trust Billy. It's far from personal, though if anything his face staring at him pocked with tiny scars certainly doesn't help. He wouldn't trust himself, and it's a nice reminder.

He can, however, commiserate. That last comment causes him to soften somewhat, and after a few moments of internal debate as he holds his peach, he decides to speak. ]

As am I. [ Perhaps they have more in common than either of them would care to admit. The Darkling's lips twitch slightly. ]

[ I had the misfortune of almost meeting my demise. He looks over at Billy, curious if he'll share as well. ]

"My longevity is something I keep close to my chest," he says softly, taking in Athena's face. There's a round quality to it, making her look even more youthful for the briefest of moments as she asks the inevitable. He busies himself with simple work, fishing out another black shirt.

"But the more Grisha use their powers, the healthier they are. The longer they live. With certain amplifiers, they can live to be a hundred, maybe more--Athena," he breaks off quickly, immediately, turning to face her properly. The shirt he'd just pulled out is immediately forgotten.

"The last thing I saw before we woke up here, it was something of yours."

Something happens as a reaction, something the Darkling notices but can't quite sense--something passes over Ellie's face, but they've only just met, and the Darkling hasn't yet begun to sink his claws into her.

She's certainly angry. The Darkling can't blame her, not with what's going on. Perhaps it's something from her world as well, something mingling.

He nods in confirmation as the other asks the question.

"I don't suppose time travel is a viable option where you're from? It's certainly moving oddly here."

They needed to do more regular ass things together here.

"Considerin' we can't count on Mathis to clean up the glass, why don't we beat on the water a little bit," he replied with a grin as he broke away to pick up a couple of rocks and hand her one. "You go first."

The more they use their powers, the healthier they are. Seems like a win-win scenario to her, particularly if it means not living for a million years on your own. She blinks in surprise at the shift in conversation, not putting together the something with the trauma of the memories for some reason.

"Don't tell me I left my phone in another dimension of another dimension."

Dorian's brows loft a little at the idea his abilities are called 'small science.' Which only raises more questions really. What could his gifts be? How does he cast them? How different is it from magic?

"How curious, why 'small science'?" He can take some guesses of course, but he'd rather get the answer from the expert.

"And I do have a Specialization, but I'm afraid it likely won't be of much use here, especially if there are limits to our powers." That and two can play at being cagey with half-answers. He's keeping track of how much the other has dodged thus far, hoping it's only because they're out in the open. But more so, he's not about to go telling everyone he does Necromancy.

"I can imagine, being around as long as you have, a few months is likely a blink of an eye for you." On top of the time being a weird thing here in general.

"Time being all wonky probably doesn't help matters. I suppose I should try to find a calendar or make something up as I go. Maybe put ominous carved ticks in a wall somewhere, it'll add to spooky ambiance." He chuckles to himself darkly.

"So, other than a long life, what other benefits are there to being a Vampire?"

“Raylan… maybe there was a moment for that but… the dust has settled and we’re all still here, just doing the best we can. Together. I can’t speak for Tim…” Or to him, apparently. He hasn’t seen the other Marshal since Raylan’s confession. “But I’ve accepted how it is. That means you should stop beating yourself up about it. Isn’t the whole point to enjoy what you can of these relationships while you can have them? I’d think all the self-recrimination diminishes that enjoyment some.” He reached up and booped Raylan’s nose with the tip of his index finger. “It’s okay. Really.”

Dorian grins and gives a soft chuckle, "Yes, I do tend to break a lot of molds when it comes to any kind of expectation of me or assumption of my character based solely on my status. So much so in fact that it's made me a pariah back home. I own that."

He's quite proud in a lot of ways that he's not like his countryman. He's doing everything in his part to not be like them and to give into the temptations of becoming like them. There's plenty he's yet to learn or unlearn in a lot of ways, but he's made progress into becoming a better man.

"I haven't really even expected any kind of respect for who and what I am back home. In fact, I expect the opposite in most cases. My people aren't very well-liked in much of Thedas, not that I blame anyone for it, but I've had to work hard to earn the respect or prove myself to those in the Inquisition. I imagine it'll be the same here, just with less vitriol at the start." He sighs, almost wishing they'd brought the moonshine along.

"Surprise me, Marshal," A pause, "Or would you prefer I simply call you Raylan? or Mr. Givens?"

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065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

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