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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So it wasn't about knowing the 'rules'. He should have been elated that it still wasn't a 'no' but it wasn't a yes either. They weren't done. Malcolm could still change his mind and storm out and into Neal's arms for a passionate night of 'I told you so.'

Raylan swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure he could go back to the house.

"Malcolm, of course you do."

Before he was thinking about it, he was turning and striding over again, mindful of the empty cup in his fingertips that was neatly set down on the counter next to Malcolm and shoved away with a little flick of his fingers. "You understand and love me in ways that they don't. Tim is too twisted up in his own hell to see out of it right now and Henry is.. Henry is in love with Wynonna. I'm sure they've slept together. I haven't asked. How is that not the same." How was that not tolerating it?

"Malcolm, when I lay down next to you and let you take everythin' that's worryin' me, it's not because you're convenient. It's because you love me and you let me and you don't hold it against me in the morning. You don't tell me what to feel or how to feel you just.. Accept it. You let me be a different part of me that hasn't seen the light of day since I was a young man. You care about parts of me that.. they.." Didn't know how, weren't aware of, couldn't -

"You are my first." That meant Something, in the same way Henry being his first did. "And I'm not stayin' in Kentucky. And I love hearin' you talk," he continued. "I need you because you're you. Just because you're you."

If Malcolm stormed out, it was doubtful he’d find solace in any arms for quite a while. If it ended like this, he wasn’t sure he could extend a hand with his heart in it again any time soon. Maybe never. This felt real. In all their stolen moments, it felt so real.

“You knew Wynonna was his wife before she even got here. That’s how it’s not the same. That Doc’s heart lived in her pocket was something you knew before you slept with him. That’s how it’s different. You made informed choices together.”

A beat, though, and his eyes lifted to Raylan’s face. Wait. He understood Raylan in ways they didn’t? But they were like him. Was that true?

Watching his face as he went on, Raylan got as far as the first ‘because you’re you’ when Malcolm’s features crumbled completely and he rocked forward burying his face in his hands.

“I want to believe that so badly,” his muffled voice wavered in answer to the second one. “I really, really do.”

There was no stopping himself as he wrapped his arms around Malcolm and drew him into his shoulder, lips turning into his hair as his eyes finally caved to the prick of tears that had been trying to battle to the top, knowing full well the sob could turn into anger in a snap because it had happened before. He'd seen it. He'd suffered through it. He would suffer through it again.

"I need you and I love you and nothin' you decide either way is going to change that. I will always need you and love you." His own voice was shaky and uncharacteristically uneven, tight and hard pressed to get out. "I don't want to survive here without you."

Please don't make me learn how, I'm sorry.

Malcolm let himself be drawn in, in more ways than one, his hands finding purchase in Raylan’s clothes, grasping the fabric wherever they fell.

“I don’t… I don’t want that either,” he admitted. “But you said you wouldn’t lie to me anymore, after Doc,” he gasped into Raylan’s shoulder. “This was the same lie again. Tell me how to believe you when you say there won’t be anyone else. Tell me how to trust you. Fix it,” he implored, like Raylan could just make the bad things go away.

Fix it. Malcolm was just like his sister, in that way.

"I can't," he admitted, voice breaking. "I can promise you a million times over and I would. I will. It was only Tim. He's my partner, I couldn't." That didn't matter either. He shook his head into Malcolm's "There's not going to be anyone else because there's not anyone else. Because I say it won't. I don't care who it is. Even if its her. There won't be anyone else."

Malcolm thought it a fair ask. Raylan hadn't broken it, but he'd taped it back together and then stolen the tape. He'd fixed it once. Couldn't he fix it again?

Even if it's her. Malcolm lifted his head, looking at Raylan through bleary, tear-stained eyes.

"You'd give her up for me?" he whispered.

Raylan slipped a hand around Malcolm's face, pressing their foreheads together as he fought to keep what he could of Malcolm's eyes in focus.

"She will always be the mother of my child. That affords her certain protections. But she only wants me when she can't have me or when she's bored. She might have loved me once," he finally broke to admitting, eyes welling and spilling with tears that only an errant pillow now and then had see. But not now and not for a long time and he was stupid enough to believe it and fight for it at the risk of everything.

"You are not a second choice or a third fiddle. What I feel about you doesn't come anywhere close to how I ever felt about her." Winona ever only got half of him. On a good day. Maybe that's why the marriage failed. Even though he knew it was better that he kept it from her. Spared it from as much as he could. Even if some of it still followed him home.

Malcolm got most everything. He gave to Malcolm what he couldn't give to Henry or Tim and he gave them what he couldn't give the New Yorker. The angry, violent, dark sides of him that left him shamed and unworthy based on that alone, never mind everything else. What would Malcolm do when he found out Raylan's body count? How long before those deaths mattered?

"So... " He sniffled, turning that over in his head. "But..." He swallowed. He realized he still had a death grip on Raylan's shirt. He loosened it a little. "What now, though? Just... pretend nothing happened? Ev...everything is different with Tim. I don't know if I can... just..."

"Don't then. Don't pretend. Don't hide it. He knew this was coming. That this had to come." They were both adults. Long past the forgiveness given to children for not knowing what they do. He'd never be fully free from that goddamned book.

"I'll.. I'll stay here. A few nights. Let things." He swallowed thickly, trying and failing to tuck everything back under the hat he didn't own anymore. "Settle. Neal is.." So furious. "He told me to leave. Can't come back till it's right with him. He-"

Raylan closed his eyes and shook his head a little.

"He cares about you and your well-being."

Malcolm's expression creased, on the verge of crumbling again. "But. Tomorrow is your night. You're not coming to night shift tomorrow?" he asked, his grip in Raylan's shirt tightening.

Raylan's expression creased back in pain, bobbing a little as he studied those impossibly blue eyes.

"Malcolm, you're gonna break him if you don't talk to him before that," he whispered. "You might not realize it Darlin' but he's part of this. I can't go back there and pretend everything is normal with him. Don't break him. Don't make him leave because of this. He's family. He can't leave us too."

It didn't matter that Neal was pissed or had tried his turn with the Marshal. Raylan had earned it. Neal was defending Malcolm's honor. Neal had done the right thing. He shouldn't be punished for it by being left out.

Malcolm let go of Raylan with one hand to scrub it over his face. It ached. He ached. His heart ached.

He frowned faintly. "Neal won't leave us; he promised," Malcolm insisted. "I'll talk to him in the morning. So you can come home for dinner."

He promised. Didn't they all. Heart could do a lot to a man. Some of it brave and fantastic. Some of it ugly and brutally raw. Raylan had, as always, tapped into the latter.

He loves you. It was on the tip of his tongue again. It wasn't right for him to tell.

"That's past his deadline. Has to be tonight," he insisted right back, thumb brushing over Malcolm's jaw, another fresh tear spilling down his cheek. "I will still be here waiting for you, okay? You can come back here and I will still be here."

Malcolm watched his face oh so carefully, like he could read something there.

“You want me to go talk to him now, but then I can come back?”

He slid off his stool but didn’t let go of Raylan’s shirt. He swallowed heavily.

“Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” His eyes trail over to the moonshine glass. “Have you had anything solid to eat?”

"You can come back. I'll.. clean up. I have to call Tim. He needs to know too." He wasn't trying to hide. They both had people to tend to, outside of themselves. Neal might take it out on Tim. Raylan didn't want that.

Raylan pulled back a little, wiping his eyes dry like they hadn't been wet at all.

"But maybe, yeah. I'm sure there's somethin' here but honestly, I haven't looked." No, he hadn't eaten. He felt bad for making Malcolm worry about such a trivial thing. I'm sorry.

"If you can't that's.. that's okay, there's.. I'm sure there's cans here.. I'll find some.. bread or somethin', I promise." Anything to put into his gut. Anything to help absorb this shit in his stomach.

Edited 2021-06-29 03:12 (UTC)

Malcolm let him move away. He knew Raylan didn’t cry. They’d lost people and Raylan hadn’t cried. He probably needed a second.

Tim.

“I’m coming back,” Malcolm insisted. “At least for a couple of hours. It’s… Doc’s night tonight.” Doc’s night was important to him. “So if he wants to come over…” he waved a hand. “I’m coming back so he shouldn’t until I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll think of a nice way to say it.”

He glanced around. Had he worn a coat? No, it was warm outside. He took a steadying breath, then spotted the record. He looked almost embarrassed.

“Right, I’ll… take this back. Since I’m going that way,” he said, reaching for it.

"No," Raylan said behind a whisper, face pinching as he shook his head. "No, he. I don't want him to. Not tonight."

He needed the night for himself. To suffer his isolation and loneliness and self loathing the way he ought to. He needed the night alone if Malcolm wasn't going to be with him.

"Leave it," he continued with a gesture at the record. "Please," was added softly as an addendum. "I'd like to look over it. If that's alright."

Malcolm abandoned the retrieval mid-reach, leaving it as requested and stepped over to Raylan instead, sliding his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“I love you. That doesn’t change either,” he murmured. “I’m… It hurts. But I still love you.”

He didn't dare ask for anything more than being allowed to wrap his arms around Malcolm and hold him for a second, but he breathed in a deep lungful of the smell of the profiler, still afraid that this was all going to shatter around him.

"I'm sorry. For everything-" And everything coming. "And I know sorry doesn't cover it. I love you too." He squeezed Malcolm tightly for a long moment, like he was afraid of being washed out to sea, before he let his arms loosen back to a more casual embrace.

It'll never happen again.

"If.. If you decide not to come back, will you call me? Let me know? I'm sure this place has a workin' phone, I just have to find it.." It would have it's corresponding number for Malcolm to call too.

Malcolm grasped his lapels, so he had to look at him.

“I’m. Coming. Back,” he insisted. He pressed a kiss to his mouth before letting go of him. “If I don’t come back, something ate me on my way.”

He lingered there, looking at Raylan for a moment, then made himself turn and walk towards the door.

Raylan studied his face for a long second after the kiss broke and he nodded, reluctantly letting Malcolm go in return.

"Alright. I'll be here."

Once the door was closed behind Malcolm, Raylan stood there for several long minutes, in something of a daze. Could he really trust that? He wanted to, god knows he did. But he also knew how quickly, how unexpectedly that could change. Malcolm was going to tell Neal what had happened. Raylan knew Neal wasn't going to be happy about it.

Was he going to be able to come back home? Or was everything different and ruined now. Lying about if he was sleeping with Tim wasn't an option; it had to be done once the question was posed. If this was back home, it wouldn't be an issue - Raylan could run, could redirect Neal as needed. Mathis was harder. Insulated.

Raylan relocated his bottle of moonshine and poured another few fingers, taking a sip as he stared at the door. Malcolm's broken hearted sobs still sat too fresh in his ear. He had to call Tim. In a minute.

This was what some people would call stupid, blind luck and Raylan knew he'd be doing whatever he could to take whatever sent it his way.

"Jesus," he muttered to himself finally, rubbing at his face as he went in search for the phone.

_______________________

A couple of hours later, Malcolm arrived back at the house where he'd met Raylan earlier. He wasn't sure what sort of condition he'd find Raylan in. He'd seemed very insistent in his belief that Malcolm might not return. What if he'd given up on him already and downed half that moonshine?

He let himself in, locking the door behind him again. He had a thermos tucked under his arm and a bag in his hand.

"Raylan?" he asked, looking around as he moved into the house.

Raylan felt raw, like an exposed nerve or a gas pipe with a leak in it. He'd had a few more glasses of moonshine, enough for him to be left side of numb but he needed that. He needed a little numbness, a little break from the cracking waves of emotion he'd gone though. It was better that he was here, where he could be raw without having to stuff it all under a mask and a weak veneer. He couldn't manage much more than that and even that would have been fragile.

He'd almost lost everything. He'd almost lost Tim and he knew it. He'd almost lost Malcolm and he knew it. All in the span of a few hours, he'd risked everything and hadn't lost anything. Assuming that Malcolm came back. He was too scared that it would all shatter around him to question that too hard.

It was later. The light had changed. The world hadn't fallen down around his ears. Raylan was stunned. The sound of the door felt strange and unnatural in the quiet that had settled around him and he sat up from his lazy slouch with another wave of anticipation that broke back into relief at the voice that called out.

"In here," he called, voice a little raspy for how long he'd been silent and he cleared it to try again as he stood up like he was seeing the principal for punishment. "I'm in here."

Malcolm frowned faintly and followed his voice, still clutching the thermos and bag, until he found him.

“…Are you okay?”

Raylan started to open his mouth and then closed it, face pinching a little before he nodded, like he wasn't quite sure.

"Yeah, I'm-" He shook his head. "Fine."

He was a jumble of nerves and feeling and drunk and mess.

"Dinner?" he asked with a finger towards Malcolm's goods. "I uh.." He glanced over his shoulder, hands finding his pockets and forcing his elbows at an odd angle. "Forgot.. to look for goods here." Didn't clean the table either.

Raylan gestured towards the dining room with a 'um' before he headed that way, peeling off his shirt to hastily wipe the table and a chair clean. "You can set it down here."

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