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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Neal keeps his breathing deep and even, back still to Malcolm.

"We deal with that if it happens," he says, tone calm again.

“How, if we don’t know where you are. Come home, Neal. We’ll figure everything else out, but come home.”

He finally turns around. He's tired. He's so tired. He's so impossibly, painfully tired. "Please don't make me say no, Malcolm."

Malcolm bites his lip hard for a moment.

“Tell me you’ll never forgive me, then.”

He stares, feeling like Malcolm just took a handful of his lungs and twisted.

"What are you talking about?"

“You were mad at Raylan. Now you’re mad at me for not being mad enough at Raylan. And you didn’t come home,” Malcolm points out.

None of it is wrong. For all that he keeps telling himself he's not allowed to be mad at Malcolm, he is. He's furious and hurt for reasons that have nothing and everything to do with Malcolm not being angry enough.

He wants to burn Mathias down. He wants to go home. He wants to have someone to curl up with at night, someone who's his, just his, someone he can care about, someone to get him outside his own head.

He loves Malcolm. In so many ways.

And he wanted him for so many of the wrong reasons.

"Fine," Neal says softly. "I don't forgive you. And I won't go home with you. I'm not going to be your after-Mathias consolation prize."

Consolation prize? He’d asked Neal well before any of this happened. But Neal is burning everything down now. The moonshine, the venom.

He tries not to look at stung as he feels, but his face always betrays him at that.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” He backs away. “Good-bye, Neal. If you decide you want to come home… you’re welcome there. But I won’t push you anymore.”

Not now that Neal hates him.

It kills him to see that look on Malcolm's face. It kills him to know what Malcolm must think he feels.

He has Doc. He has Ainsley. Raylan. Negan. He'll be fine.

Neal turns away and walks to the wall, bracing both hands against it as he stares down at his feet and waits for Malcolm to leave. All he has to do is say nothing. That's all he has to do.

Neal doesn’t say anything. Malcolm’s hand goes into his pocket, closes around the baggie with the licorice flowers in it. He pulls it out, walking up behind Neal to push it into his pocket.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmurs, that waver back in his voice. He feels like he hasn’t stopped crying since yesterday. “Take care of yourself.”

Then he turns and heads for the door.

He draws the baggie out of his pocket as soon as Malcolm turns away, looking down at the little flowers inside.

I'll miss you.

You deserve better than this.

He just has to stay silent, he just has to say nothing, he just...

He turns, voice soft, half of him hoping Malcolm doesn't hear. "Wait-- Please."

Malcolm is steps from the door when that comes. He hears it because he was hoping to hear something.

He stops, swallows, braces himself for possibly more lumps to come, then turns.

Neal comes closer tentatively, not sure if he has the right to it any more. God, what kind of best friend is he? First breaks into Peter's house, then he lies to Mozzie, then he does this to Malcolm, he when he knew exactly how much it would hurt.

He doesn't deserve any of them.

He holds the flowers out again, slowly, not sure at first what to say.

"I didn't mean that," he says quietly. "I didn't mean any of that, any of it."

Malcolm takes a difficult, shaky breath, then reaches for the bag.

“I don’t know how to be what everyone wants. Half of our house didn’t come back there last night. Nobody wants to look at anyone else. I feel like… if I’m not to blame, I’m at least in the middle of it. I’m at least… a catalyst for strife.”

"No," Neal says quietly, insistently. "No you're not, Malcolm, you're--"

God, he hates himself. It's his fault Malcolm feels this way.

He closes Malcolm's finger around the baggie. "You don't have to be anyone. You're you. You're you."

His throat tightens around the words. "I'll come back. I promise I'll come back, if..."

If Raylan lets me. If Neal can stand to see them in love with each other. He wants Malcolm to be happy. He does, and he's ensuring the opposite of that. He presses a kiss against Malcolm's forehead.

"You're not to blame. You're..." He rests his forehead against Malcolm's. "Mathias is. Mathias is."

Malcolm slides his arms around him, giving in to the urge to try to hug his pain away. After Mathias Consolation Prize. Neal took the words back but their barb still sticks in his heart. Maybe it was stupid to think anyone should go home with anyone. Doc was right. Mathias is a bubble. When it’s over, he’ll wake up alone in New York like was always going to. Cling to what you’ve got here, while you have it.

I need you because you’re you.

You don’t have to be anyone. You’re you.

Nobody needs a bag of broken pieces; who does everyone think he is?

“Let me help you.”

He knows this has been building in Neal. He’s seen little pieces fracture one at a time until… this. This fractured something structural.

Neal closes his eyes tightly, leaning forward enough to rest his head on Malcolm's shoulder. I've never deserved my friends.

I don't know how.

Everyone he's every relied on to help pull him together has given up, eventually. Given up, or he's driven them away. Like he tried to do with Malcolm. Like he apparently did with Peter.

"I don't want to go home," he says softly. He doesn't mean 1306. "I don't want to go anywhere."

He's never going to fit anywhere else again.

“I understand.” He has bad days too. “And I thought I’d always feel that way. But I belong with you and the others. More than I’ve ever belonged anywhere.”

Who could blame him for wanting to hold on to something. No. Self-indulgent fantasy.

“Please don’t do anything… rash. Neal. Please.”

"Even if I did," he says, voice dull and tired. "It wouldn't stick. They'll keep dragging me back, because that's what this place does. That's what they want. Maybe they'll keep me in limbo for a few days, make everyone worry first, but then they'd send me back so I could try again."

His eyes are burning again, but he holds on, doesn't turn it loose.

“We can’t risk that. Sometimes people don’t come back.”

His hands fist in Neal’s shirt.

“It’s your choice, but I’d be devastated to lose you.”

I want you to be happy. Remember that.

Is that what he was saying? Is that what he was trying to say? Remember that, because...

"Why?" The word strangles its way out of him. "After everything I said to you, why?"

Edited 2021-07-01 02:37 (UTC)

Malcolm lifts his head to look at Neal.

“You’re my best friend. I love you.”

Isn’t that reason enough?

"You're an idiot," Neal says softly, but without malice. If anything, with love.

Still, he doesn't cry. He's focused too hard in the past day (the past week, the past month) on not doing that.

"I'd go back with you," he says, so quiet that proximity is the only way to catch it. "I'd go back with you if you wanted me to. If you still wanted me to."

“I always want you around,” Malcolm murmurs back. Consolation Prize. He said that in anger, but it came from somewhere. He put those words to this for a reason. “If we can even choose.” Seeming more and more like a childish fantasy. “I would always want you around.” That’s the thing he knows is true.

“There’s always a way,” he says, his own personal mantra, though at the moment he has a hard time backing it with belief.

Neal stays quiet for a few long seconds. “I’m so tired.”

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