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

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."

"I didn't know what you'd feel like," he admitted, "So I made a couple of sandwiches... sliced cucumber... some hardboiled eggs..." he inventoried as he took them out of the bag. "Oh and pie." He looked over at Raylan. "Neal made pie."

He wasn't going to eat any of the food but he was going to have another piece of pie.

He pulled out a chair for Malcolm and then one for himself that he sat in, stomach growling as the food got in front of his eyeballs. He was hungry, hungrier than he thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, it had to be within the past two days. He was sure he had, even if it was shit food.

But the mention of Neal had him stilling, eyes locked on Malcolm before he dropped them down to the table as he swallowed.

"What kinda pie?" Is he okay? Would he be okay with me eating his pie? Somehow I doubt it.

“Blueberry,” Malcolm said, watching Raylan’s face as he placed the containers on the table. “He tweaked the recipe so I can eat it.” A beat. “He told me to bring it. I think that’s progress.”

"He said that to be nice to you," Raylan surmised. "Do you like it?"

Better to ask that then how it went. How Neal took it. He made pie for fucks sake. Celebration pie for him, comfort pie for Malcolm. Multi-purpose pie.

“Yeah. It’s good.” He picked up a fork and popped his container open, watching Raylan to make sure he picked up any of the food. He pushed the thermos of coffee towards him.

“I think he thinks I should have been harder on you but. He wasn’t here. And you’ve been plenty hard on yourself.”

And Malcolm’s face still ached from crying and his heart still ached, too. And there were parts of his trust that would take time to rebuild, if they even could be. But he wasn’t ready to let go of this.

A sandwich first, as weird as it felt to eat solid food, much less be eating right now. Like he was doing something wrong in the situation, as ridiculous as that might sound. He unwrapped it methodically, folding the paper bits to the side as he took a bite and stared it.

"He's probably right," he admitted easily. Maybe if Neal had been here, he would feel like the man had the rest of the story, but he didn't and it wasn't a story Raylan was keen to roll out to the guy who had been family one day and trying to kick his ass the next.

"I assume he was.. displeased about your decision on it."

Malcolm looked over at Raylan.

“He’s disappointed. I think he feels I wasn’t standing up for myself.” He paused. “Do you think I let you off too easy?”

"I think Neal thinks I'm shit on his shoe is what I think." Raylan looked up at Malcolm, eyes redder than normal, how tired he was borne in his face and shoulders. "I think I mighta hurt him more then you somehow and I-" Broke your heart. He felt his throat close up around the words, shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich.

"S'just a lot." All the way around, from Malcolm to Neal to Tim and god bless Henry for somehow avoiding it all. If they could keep that at least, maybe he wouldn't feel like total shit. That was a lie. Feeling like shit was going to be his new to-do top level listing.

Malcolm nods, picking at his pie.

“Maybe I’m the problem,” he muses quietly.

Raylan looked up sharply, eyebrows furrowing softly. "What? No. You're most assuredly not," he continued with a more confident tone. "He wouldn't be so pissed off at me if he didn't love you as much as he does. Loving you-" ~Is easy cuz you're beautiful~ "Is the opposite of a problem."

He managed just the edges of a smile for a second. “I just. Don’t want to be the reason you hate each other, either.”

He shook his head a little, fidgeting with the sandwich in his hand. "I don't hate Neal, Malcolm," he started, eyes lifting back up. "He didn't say anythin' to me that wasn't true and I've gotten into more brutal fights over less. He was trying to defend your honor. Defend what we can both agree on what you deserve."

Raylan could take his licks, but these, he'd earned. It was worth it. He wasn't sorry that he'd done what he'd done, only sorry that the fracture hurt of it spread so far.

"I know I got no right to ask but.. I don't want all of it redirected towards Tim. You got a right to be mad at him too but." Raylan would take it. Tim's portion of whatever he was allowed to.

Malcolm took a deep breath, stabbing a blueberry and eating it before looking at Raylan.

“I was mad at Tim for a minute. It felt like it was all a game to him, hiding it from me while nudge nudging me about us. He knew about us and he didn’t say anything either. He didn’t urge you to say anything. I thought cowboys and soldiers were supposed to have a sense of honour. I felt duped. But…” He rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever.” He made an expansive gesture with his fork before stabbing some pie. “My heart is too achy and soul is too wrung out for me to have the energy to be pissed off at Tim. I can’t guess what was actually going through his head when he was offering me advice. Maybe he felt guilty. He doesn’t let me know what he thinks and I don’t know what you told him about us.”

"'M sure he meant well," Raylan muttered softly before taking another guilty bite of his sandwich. He couldn't say anything for Tim's intent, not anymore, not really. He didn't know. He was outside.

"I didn't tell him anything. Not entirely sure what you think I woulda told him. What, what we talk about at night in bed or .." He couldn't even think of what Malcolm would think he would tell.

"Only that you have nightmares that we mind. Nothin'.. personal. Ain't his business."

"I don't think you would tell him our private conversations," Malcolm allowed. "But I don't know if you told him... how you feel about me or... how I feel about you. I don't know if you gave him an idea of what our relationship is like or what your relationship with Doc is like. Did you give him a context of where he fits in to... all this?" A beat. "Does he know about Doc?"

"He does," Raylan granted with a nod and half a glance up. "But I.. Don't know how he feels about all of it. He acknowledges that I love you. He knows about Henry. We haven't spoken on any of it. He knew before.. everything."

He hated Malcolm for it. The jealousy of it all. The hate Raylan hoped he could dissuade by ensuring the sniper that it wasn't some personal affront. He hadn't meant to collect Tim up and love him but once he knew that so much was hung on him.. He couldn't help it. There was no way to put that into words. No way he could accept that he was just supposed to watch Tim abuse himself because he felt somehow unworthy or something.

How could he even begin to articulate that nuance.

Malcolm nodded, taking another little bite of pie.

"He guessed about us by the second time I spoke to him."

You're fucking.

"Last time I talked to him.... it was a little bit better."

It still wasn't great and Tim didn't seem to understand that isolating himself was a bad survival technique for himself and for the group.

"But he still doesn't want to know us, Raylan."

"I know," he whispered with another bob of his head as he set the sandwich down. "I don't know why and he hasn't said as much to me but.." He thought validating what Tim was feeling and arguing against the misconceptions that had little in base to do with Malcolm himself was the kinder thing to do.

It had gotten and then stayed outta hand.

"I don't have an answer for that Malcolm."

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