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

Neal doesn't intend to find Raylan on the beach. He's been largely avoiding people since yesterday, except to check in with Malcolm and promise he's coming for his night. He worked for a little while on the new paper garden, before losing focus. Another walk, and he found himself at the beach.

He's wearing shorts. It feels strange. He hasn't worn shorts, even in summer, since he started wearing the anklet. He hasn't been swimming outside of a private pool in the wee hours when no one else was there. He's tempted to go into the water now, but then he spots (that moment: which one of them is it) Raylan down by the water line. It's the stillness that gives Raylan away--Jeff can't seem to hold himself still for more than a fraction of seconds at a time.

Neal makes his way over, slowly, haltingly, not sure he'll be welcome and not sure what to say to start this conversation.

He stops behind Raylan, a few feet back, prepared for the other man to tell him to leave, not begrudging him the urge if he does it.

Raylan had opted to take off his shoes and roll up his jeans to stand in the rolling surf. It helped him banish Mathis into a temporary rearview as he dug his toes into the cool wet sand. But still he was, as still as a statue, head tilted back into the faint breeze as he breathed in the salt like it might wash him clean.

The sense of someone behind him is what breaks him from his reverie and he glances over his shoulder, holding Neal in his sights for a handful of long seconds before offering him a tired smile.

"Come on in, water's fine."

Telling Neal to fuck off didn't even occur to him, even if his lip and eye were still healing. They'd dealt with the large bits; he imagined there were fragments missed on account of Malcolm being there at all, as necessary as he was in being a facilitator for their conversation in the first place. But if Neal wanted to join him, Raylan wasn't going to say no. To the company or to Neal himself.

He relaxes a little. He's not sure he's going to be entirely relaxed for... Well, he's not sure he's ever going to be entirely relaxed ever again, but the blame for that belongs on no one and nothing but Mathias.

He tugs his sandals off without much effort. They've got straps, he wants something he can run in easily just in case, but they're still sandals. Neal tucks his hands into the pockets of his shorts and walks into the water up to his ankles, enjoying the chilly back-and-forth of water across his skin.

He watches the water for a little while, content in the silence and the company, until he can get his thoughts together.

"When I lived in St. Louis..." They haven't talked about Neal's life before New York in, god, what, a month and a half? Not that long really, but it feels like forever ago. "I always went to the local beaches with my friends. Up to Chicago, or over to one of the state parks. The park beaches were all really these little watering holes you could see the other side of that never got that deep. But I liked it when my friends would take me on day trips up to Chicago. Whenever I could, I went. Right up until I ran away I promised myself I'd go see the ocean for real someday."

He kicks idly at the water. "I've seen more sides of more oceans than I ever thought I would."

There had been so much in the silence over the past few days, Raylan felt like he'd forgotten what it was like for silence to just be.. silence. And for once, between them, he felt like that's exactly what it was. Blissful silence.

Considering how their last conversations had gone, Raylan was happy to let Neal break it first.

"Enjoy your oceans, Neal. Not everyone gets to see 'em. I was twenty somethin' first time I saw mine. Out in L.A. Could barely see the water through the tourists, but it was the smell of the water that caught me. Gettin' my feet in it is about the furthest thing I can think of from the dry dirty of Kentucky."

"Elafonissi," Neal says. "On the island of Crete, in Greece. You should take Willa there when she's old enough. The beaches are bright pink and the water is some of the bluest I've ever seen--it's like standing on a sunset at the edge of the sky."

He flashes Raylan a small smile, one that has an edge of worry, like he's going to step wrong and ruin this small peace. In spite of everything, there's still the fear in the pit of his stomach that Raylan will change his mind about wanting Neal around. Peter's voice has been whispering criminal to him in the dark. "Don't go between July and August, though--that's peak tourist time."

Neal walks a little deeper into the water, though not past his calves. He doesn't trust this place not to yank his feet out from under him and drag him out to sea. God, that horizon seems so impossibly far away. Which is a silly thought, really--of course it is--but there's something bleak rather than exciting in this particular distance.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, holding up a hand before Raylan can tell him he doesn't need to be. "I'm... It took some thinking to sort this out, so. Give me a second. I'm not sorry I got mad at you. But you know what you did, you know it was a mistake, and I think... I've more than taken my pound of flesh where that's concerned."

This time when he looks at Raylan he doesn't look away as fast. "I'm sorry I got mad at you the way I did. I... You were trusting me. You trusted me with something you hadn't even told the person it would be most important to. Maybe if-- Maybe if I hadn't been in love with him, maybe if I'd taken a second to think about the fact that you were sharing it, I would have done something differently. I'd like to think I would have."

He touches his tongue lightly against his lips, a little nervous gesture. "That's what I'm sorry for. The fact that I didn't listen to you."

"They'll give babies passports, right? Like.. once they got their shots and all? God I feel like I'm talkin' about a corgi I'm flyin' over." He liked the sound of it. All of it and he gave Neal a small smile in return. For what little it might do. He knew things were strange. He felt it himself.

"I'll keep that in mind when she's old enough to not drown or fry like a tiny sausage."

Raylan didn't follow him, but did watch him, eventually taking a step or two forwards to better hear him. Or that was the excuse he told himself, anyway. Surprisingly, he wasn't going to object to the apology, this was a first step, but he stayed silent and made his way to near Neal's shoulder, several feet away. No, he didn't bother rolling up his jeans. It was fine.

He stared at the water as Neal continued, as Neal touched on truer nuances than just 'Feelings hurt, smash face'. Raylan had spoken out of a trust that was immediately, violently broken. He hated how much like home it had been. They couldn't know or understand that. Not without seeing it. Knowing Arlo.

"Love makes men do stupid things. I think I'm testament enough to that. Doesn't help that most of your points, if not totally accurate, were technically right enough on their own. I don't deserve him. And no matter what Malcolm says.. I know I can be an asshole. Make mistakes. Mathis is.." He took a deep breath and looked out at the flat, empty, beautiful horizon.

"I can't date them, him, Malcolm, like he wants me to because I can't bear to lose somethin' that close. I can't promise that there's a deadline here but.. we're not going to be here forever, right? Anywhere else, it'd'va been different, but here.." He clucked softly, turning to look back over at Neal.

"I don't blame you, you know. For loving him. For reacting the way a man who loves him should. I would've in your shoes. You're a good guy, Neal. Even if you.. may have taken it a little. Onto the far side of things."

Neal doesn't like the tired little stir of anger and resentment when Raylan says he may have taken it onto the far side of things. He ignores the feelings as best he can. Sometimes a relationship is more important than arguing about which person is more right. Besides, standing in the street shouting insults and personal details was too far.

"He can't know," Neal says softly. "About me, I mean, about my whole..."

He gestures at the air. "I don't know how it would change things. I've already changed things enough."

Neal bites his lip for a moment, looking over at Raylan again. "For the record... it's not about whether or not we think we deserve someone. It's about whether or not they think we do. We don't get to decide that for them."

Negan's words, paraphrased. Neal still doesn't believe them for himself, but he doesn't want Raylan to look at Malcolm and think that way. He wants them to enjoy each other's company to the fullest while they have it. He doesn't want what he did to poison it somehow.

"Anyone can be an asshole," he adds softly. A crooked, tired little smile. "Takes one to know one and all of that."

Raylan stared out into the distance, face squinted up against the light. "I won't tell him. You didn't tell him about the ultimatum. You coulda. Forced it sooner. So I'll keep it to myself."

It wouldn't change anything. Saying so felt cruel, however good it might be meant to. He couldn't promise that Malcolm wouldn't go for the better option, which was Neal, but he couldn't promise that Malcolm would. The profiler had stuck next to him through some nasty, heartbreaking shit. He'd already dealt enough blows to Neal by existing, he didn't need another strike.

"'They' don't know what we've done. What I've done. What you've done. Not really. Not all of it." Would Malcolm's opinion change after he found out that Raylan's put more than 30 men in the ground? He was sure it would. Another ugly rhetorical question sat on the end of his tongue but Raylan knew it would only do more harm. Better to not.

"But maybe you're right, I suppose. Wouldn't work the other way around." Then they'd just be arrogant assholes. Raylan gave Neal a little smile. "Suppose we'll be assholes together, huh?"

Was it too soon to ask about help with the date with Malcolm? Maybe so, Raylan wasn't sure.

"Should I.. I dunno. Not.. talk to you about him, or.." Not talking about Tim was a given but Malcolm..

Assholes together. He feels the tension in his shoulders ease, feels his own smile get a little lighter. Assholes together, that he can do.

"You can talk to me about him," Neal says, moving close enough to elbow Raylan lightly in the arm. "No offense, but date planning is more my thing than yours, and now that it's all in the open..."

He shrugs, looking out at the horizon again. "I'll get over it."

Neal touches his tongue against his lower lip, nervous, second-guessing what he says next, but he wants to say it. He needs to say it, for both of them, for wherever they go from here. "I've never had an older brother to be jealous of before. Kind of worth it, punches aside."

Proximity without being swung at was good. Maybe it meant that Neal has found a way to stand next to him without wishing him him ill. Raylan still didn't hold that against Neal, they were human. He wouldn't hold anything against him if it meant they could find 'Okay' again. The real, comfortable 'okay' that they'd had before.

Being allowed to talk about Malcolm was a good step and Raylan breathed a little easier for the elbow into his arm and the mention of 'date', hazel eyes coming over to watch the profile of Neal's features. The question of that mention was set aside as Neal continued.

Older brother? Raylan smiled crookedly, head ducking for a long moment before he looked out into safer waters, smile creeping a little further.

"Is that what I am?" He looked over again. "You know that means I'm gonna be all up in your shit for your own good, right?" He found himself grinning, despite all his intentions. "Date planning? Mathis make you psychic too?"

This is good. This is good.

This place... it's too dangerous, too unpredictable, too vicious to risk hanging on to anger. To pointless daydreams. Particularly when the people tangled up with those emotions mean as much to him as Raylan and Malcolm do.

Neal isn't sure what Raylan will do in response, but he tries to tug the other man into a one-armed side-hug, brief but firm.

"I think I can live with that." He looks sidelong up at Raylan, eyebrows raised. "Doesn't take a psychic to know a very special date is a very good idea right now. Fortunately for you, I have some ideas."

Raylan's response was to lift and wind his arm around Neal's shoulder for the side hug, chest feeling a million times better for the gesture, however brief it was. He gripped Neal tightly while he could.

Yes. This was good.

He lifted his eyebrows and huffed a half grin in response, glancing out at the ocean before ducking his head again.

"We're supposed to have a picnic and dance. Gonna bring the record player, something to play on it.. Most romantic I ever got was post it notes leadin' towards a bedroom with some wilted rose petals around them," He admitted it all with a roll of his shoulder as he kept his gaze in the sane. "Malcolm's.. .. Better than that. I.. wanna do somethin' that's a little more up to standard. A little less.. Office Max, if you know what I mean.."

He dared to look over. "What ideas do you have?" Because he was 1000% amenable to the Romantic among them's ideas.

Another little balm over his heart, that returned hug. Neal pauses, then jerks his head back toward the beach. "You wanted to know what those supplies were for."

He doesn't wait to see if Raylan follows, still speaking as he sloshes back onto the shore. "You know Malcolm would love that, right? Post it notes and rose petals? It's sweet, and it's thoughtful, and it shows you want to make the person feel special. There's no standard for these things. Putting love behind it, no matter what it is, that's the part that makes it matter."

Raylan's brow pinched a little in surprise, in confusion but he followed the direction given, turning with Neal in the tide to splash their way back up into the sand. He wasn't going to be able to step in anywhere till it all dried but honestly, it was worth it.

"Wait, you getting supplies for the date?" And you still attacked him? He was touched. Confused, but touched.

He rolls a shoulder at the comment, nodding. "He'd love the effort, yes. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to bring it up a level... This isn't the middle of a 6 year marriage and he is not Winona. He nee-." Raylan closed his mouth, took a deep breath through his nose and tried again. "I need to make memories with him that aren't shared with her. Pulling that feels. Lazy."

Raylan was an asshole. Not that big of an asshole.

"Not for the date. But it could be useful for it anyway."

Neal's heart gives a pleasant but sad little squeeze. "Well, I didn't say re-use the idea. I just said that he would love it. We can do better though. I can help."

He picks up his shoes without putting them on, deciding to leave that until he can clean the sand off his feet. It's not a long way to the house on King--beachfront property and all that--and the inside is significantly cleaner than it had been that morning. Neal walked into the living room, gesturing at the blank walls--paintings removed, furniture shoved to the middle of the floor. "I need to start the painting in here, and it won't be anything too fancy on short notice, but here's your venue."

"Can't believe you're willin' to help, but I could more than use it," Raylan admitted as he bent to rescue his thrifted converse and padded along beside Neal till they got to where they were going.

He tried but he still only hit Office Depot romantic. Can't blame a man for wanting to bring his game up a notch.

Raylan looked around the house and gave a low whistle as he followed into the living room. "Nice spot." He ambled towards a window to check out the view before looking back almost hesitantly. Hung hopes often fell, in his case and a few days made all the difference. "You sure?"

This wasn't a carrot/stick situation, was it?

"I'm sure. It won't be perfect, not in just a few days, but I want to start turning this place into... a garden, I guess. A little retreat. I had a place over on Stoker that I made, with paper flowers, to take Daisy on a picnic. Got ruined with all the dust, but I thought there's no reason not to make it again where more people can enjoy it. I'll just wait to put anything up on the bulletin board until you get first crack at it."

He meanders over to one of the blank white walls, ghosting his hand over its newly-cleaned surface. "I'm thinking I'll paint this room like the Great Lawn in Central Park. Leave it pretty open. A good picnic spot, good place to go stargazing when I get to the ceiling."

Smiling softly, Raylan stepped away from the window, ambling back into the middle of the room.

"That's a really good idea, Neal." Just in case he needed to hear that out loud. "I think that'll look great. It'll be a nice place for people." The smile fit more easily on his face now, felt better to be wearing it in his soul.

"I-I was thinking maybe doin' this tomorrow or the day after, if things don't.. blow up or.. change. I've been thinkin' about soups too. Maybe some.. cheese and fruit from the stand out in town.. If you're wonderin' where the plums went," he said with a chuckle, finger turning towards himself before dropping to prop on his hip.

"How can I help? With this."

Neal ducks his head at the praise, enjoying it in spite of how fraught things have been over the last few days. He ponders the walls thoughtfully. "I won't be able to get it to where I want it in a day, but we can get one part done. Maybe the wall opposite the window."

He tilts his head toward the kitchen. "We can get a drop cloth and get the primer up today at least."

"Let's call it three days then," he said with a nod. If he had sleeves, he'd be rolling them up. "I'm sure there's a few spare sheets we can grab - you already located the paint for it?"

Raylan wasn't helping just because Neal was going to let him have first crack at it, or because he wanted help with the date. He was helping because he felt like he did so little of it nowadays and this really was a good idea.

Their community needed all the nice things that they could manage to provide.

"I have." Every time Raylan does something to show he's not going to walk out or mete out his own kind of punishment, a little knot of the tangle in Neal's chest unravels. His smile stays small, a little fragile, waiting for the peace to break. But it's there.

"Not quite the shade I wanted, but beggars can't be choosers."

He goes back to the kitchen, gathering up some dropcloths--some of them indeed repurposed sheets--and pointing out the primer and roller brushes to Raylan.

Edited 2021-07-22 22:35 (UTC)

In the grand scheme of things, Neal had done the least to Raylan and the mountain of bullshit that the New Yorker would have to climb on top of to get him to the point of walking out was astronomical. Raylan loved him, in his own way.

"Anything will be better than what's there," he admitted with a bob of his head, glancing over his shoulder as Neal pointed out the paint cans and ambling over that way. A spare screwdriver to pop it off and a bit of odd wood to stir it up before Raylan poured some out into the paint pan.

"Been at least a few months since I painted a wall. Less than for drywall repair but I doubt we'd have the stuff to do that, even if we needed it." Yes, Raylan was ~Handy~.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

going for the beach again because I like it as a setting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's a good one

"i'm going to bed," i say, a moment before this lands in my inbox

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Date night will be on Day 71 WHATEVER THAT IS FROM HERE

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