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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Apparently, he did need it. There was a lot swarming around in his head, a lot of information that he hadn't gotten to chew through with a clear mind to say nothing of the punches he'd taken a hour and a half or so before. His brains were trying their best and Tim's last statement sounded too much like the man was still mid battle to land on either side. Plenty of people could profess their love and then still tell him to not come back.

He couldn't let go of how close it felt like Tim was to doing exactly that the night before.

But that wasn't happening and the words were followed by clutch of relief in his chest, a tightening of his hands around Tim's shoulders as he breathed in the scent of him. Realizing that he hadn't said anything yet, Raylan nodded into Tim's hair. "Okay. Alright. Then we'll figure this out. Even if it takes time. Nothin' worth fightin' for is easy. Just please don't piss in my hat. I'm rather attached to it."

"No promises," Tim gave another watery chuckle, this one coming with a shudder through his entire body as he stepped closer to Raylan and hung on tight enough to bruise.

He wasn't kidding about not wanting to let go. The sniper agreed with everything the older man had said, about things taking time and being worth fighting for, but at the moment he was incredibly reluctant to physically let the older man go.

Raylan huffed and turned them so that he was leaning back against the counter with Tim between his wide spread legs, taking another deep breath of him. He let a few long seconds pass before he spoke up again, sensing that Tim and needing himself to just linger in this for a few minutes, to pull them back from the edge they'd been tightrope walking across.

"It won't be tonight but.. Expect me to find and crawl into your bed at some point. Just to wrap around ya. You better tell me what house you find to post up in so I can find a window to sneak into."

Given the opportunity to scoot a little closer, Tim took it. There was nothing sexually suggestive in the action, though maybe it would have been better all around if they'd just been about sex. But no. This was about craving and finding comfort in his partner's arms and in having his arms around the older man in return. Life just felt a more manageable like this.

"I'll leave a trail of 'shine bottles," he responded, voice muffled from where he had his face pressed into Raylan's shirt. His tone was soft, in a way Tim didn't allow outside the bedroom. "Even leave the door unlocked. You resemble a newborn colt, with his legs in a knot, trying to stand when you go through windows. Don't need you falling on your head without your hat to cushion the blow."

"Thought you were on the wagon. And the hell I do. I'm graceful. You're just shorter. Easier with those stubby legs."

"Figured the last thing we needed to add to this mess was my being blind drunk," he muttered. Truth was he'd wanted to be sober and ready if Raylan had called, or shown up needing him.

"I do not have stubby legs," he huffed, reaching to give the older marshal's hip a cheeky pinch.

"Don't you worry darlin', I'll pick that slack up for ya."

Raylan chuckled at the pinch. "Sure you do. S'why you don't clear six foot. But I think it's cute so you're alright."

"Oh don't you worried, I'll make up for lost time," Tim responded in a tone that suggested he would absolutely be protective over his stash of booze. Store that shit in his stomach if he had too!

"It's called being 'fun sized' you ass," he play growled, bullying against Raylan with his shoulders, pressing them even closer together and his arms tightened suddenly as he felt tears prick at his eyes.

Please, please don't let me lose this.

"You can't steal my line and use it against me, that's not fair," he muttered with a chuckle into Tim's hair. "But I prefer pocket sized. Though you are a lotta fun.."

Raylan pressed another kiss against Tim's head, arms wrapping tighter right him for the bully in. "C'mon. Let's finish lunch. Gotta keep your strength up for all this cleanin' you've taken on."

"Only Judd Truth allowed to do that?" Tim sassed back, snorting at Raylan labels him pocket sized. He briefly considered letting the older man have a pass when he followed up with saying Tim was fun, but the desire to pinch his partner's ass was too great and so Tim indulged.

"I'm eating that other grilled cheese. You make a reach for it, I will lick it in your hand." Of course to get to either sandwich they had to let go. Tim decided he wasn't going to be the adult in this situation and let Raylan go. The cowboy was going to have to peel him off.

"Mm-hmm," he chuckled but the pinch made his hips jerk to one side with a sharp sound that was followed with a proper laugh, head pulling back to look down into Tim's face. Tim, who clearly wasn't ready to move yet.

Raylan's lips curled further and one hand subtly slipped off Tim and reached out towards the goods. To lick his hand meant that he'd have to move.

WHAT WOULD HE GIVE FOR THE GRILLED CHEESE?

The laugh sounded so damn beautiful to his ears, Tim felt his heart ache as his lips twitched upwards into a grin of his own. But then Raylan was making a play for the grilled cheese!

"Oh no, sir." Tim teased, shifting himself so that he remained pressed up against Raylan. Then, because he knew Raylan wouldn't play fair, the younger marshal curled his fingers inwards and traced a tickle line up towards the armpit of the reaching arm.

Just as his fingers were about to brush the grilled cheese, Tim found the perfect spot and Raylan curled with more laughter as his hands hurried to stop Tim's from their continued assault.

Alright. Yes. He was ticklish. Sue him.

Raylan tried to manage his sternest look as he looked back into Tim's face. "No need to be all rude about it. This is not the licking I was promised," He teased, one hand sliding around Tim's face and drawing him up into a kiss.

They could both play dirty.

This round of laughter resulted in soft answering laughter from the younger marshal as he tried to get as much of his tickle assault as he could in before Raylan shook him off. He allowed his hand to be caught and met that stern look with a softness that stripped years out of his eyes. It left him boyish in a rare way.

"Well hold your hand up and I'll ..." was as far as he got before Raylan's mouth came down on his own and Tim decided that sass could wait. Turning his hand in the cowboy's he threaded their fingers together as he returned the kiss and while he knew it couldn't go far, his lips parted in invitation and he whimpered a soft note of welcome.

Yeah, that's what he thought. Raylan smiled into the kiss as their fingers laced together and he squeezed gently, deepening the kiss for a long moment of moonshine tinted love before breaking it gently.

"Don't worry, okay? I ain't goin' anywhere. Not until Mathis makes me."

Tim wanted to draw comfort from Raylan's words but there was something about them. He's trying to convince himself, the sniper realized, feeling his throat tighten.

He quickly put that impish, teeth filled grin on his face and nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Just make sure you keep the grilled cheese coming, hmm?"

Tim was wrong.

The only thing Raylan couldn't promise was when Mathis was going to steal either one of them away.

"I have always heard a way to a man's heart was through his stomach but I don't think I've ever seen that in action," he teased, grinning easily in return, hands still refusing to let Tim go all the way. "We're gonna have to make some big decisions about if there's any room for anything other than white bread and kraft singles."

"Ranger training," Tim responded his expression wry. But where usually he'd have just left it at that off-hand explanation the sniper heaved a sigh and shifted until he was leaning back against the older man. Not quite as desperate a hold as before, but comfortable, as if they were curled up on a sofa instead of standing in a horror tube.

"Spent a lot of my life hungry," he began. He'd told this to Malcolm, seemed only right he open up about it to Raylan. "Ain't in my file jacket, Marshal Service did me a solid and only walked back to when I joined the Army. My mom was a drug addict, the hard stuff. Part of what pissed off my father no end.

Anyway, keep this from getting maudlin, when I was big enough to reach the knobs on the back of the stove while standing on a kitchen chair, he slapped kraft singles and white bread down on the counter and it was 'make two and give one to your mother'. That point on, I wanted to eat? I fed myself." Had been about age five.

"Made Ranger training a breeze. Everybody else was suffering on the forced 3000 calorie intake, if you were lucky, 10,000 calorie output that they put you through? That shit was a cakewalk." Probably part of why he'd done so well. He hadn't had to suffer through the calorie withdrawal like his classmates.

"Kraft slices, white bread, vanilla ice cream, coffee and beer. What else do we need?" Of the pair of them Tim was the one most likely to maintain a healthy diet. But there was a sense of discomfort in the peek he'd just given to his childhood. A need to give Raylan the joking route out of the emotional weeds.

Raylan was a little surprised that Tim was curling back against him but there was zero argument as his hands shifted back more tightly around him. This wasn't a sofa by any means but the counter digging into his ass wasn't uncomfortable and it was obvious that Tim was unloading something.

He already knew a little of this but he wasn't going to say that, wasn't going to stop Tim from getting to his point and at the story of Tim's father, Raylan's lips turned down sharply. It was almost preferable to get beaten to that, but he wasn't going to say that out loud, no matter how much he wished that Arlo would have just left him and his mother alone.

"Somethin' to pull you away from there when you're havin' the most basic need met," Raylan argued gently. "A change of pace, of taste.. Just because that's the way things were don't mean that that's the way things always gotta be."

The only reason he said that was because Tim already knew what Arlo was like. He'd seen the abuse to the grown man of a son and could extrapolate out onto what that looked like to a 5 or 6 year old Raylan.

"It's alright if we don't. It was just a joke," he reassured with a rub across Tim's back. "I know you like 'em, why change 'em, right?"

It wasn't a contest, far as Tim was concerned. They all had their crosses to bear, himself, Raylan, Malcolm, Neal, Doc, Callisto, Athena. The list was long and varied and unique to each of them that survived it.

Tim chuckled softly and bumped his hip against Raylan's. "Except for Art, and he gets a pass because we both know Leslie does the cooking, I expect I have the healthiest kitchen in the office. The only cheese in my ice chest back home is string cheese for stakeouts. You and Doc just keep feeding me here, so I don't have to bother with cooking. I get to be lazy."

No one expected Tim to cook, save for his impromptu grilled cheese and soup night, and he didn't advertise the ability. But if Raylan took a moment to think about it, the younger marshal always had fresh fruit, vegetables or other homemade looking healthy snacks at his desk.

Nor was it with Raylan, but he wasn't sure how Tim felt about it. Didn't know how he would take it. Raylan didn't talk about it openly anyway.

"You've already gotten me beat out by virtue of you havin' a kitchen," he chuckled, "But now that that's not the case, it's about time you let a few other people feed you. I think he does it because he needs to take care of other people. I do it because I worry about if you're gettin' enough in your stomach to match whatever moonshine you imbibe. Things go south here, I need you in fightin' form."

Yeah sure. That's what he'll blame it on. But he knew about how Tim ate. It was why he brought plums.

"That is a true statement," Raylan's insistence on living in a long term hotel room made sense from a psychological perspective, if not a practical one.

"If neither you or Doc show up with tupperware in tow, probably just suck it up and start doing my own cooking." His trust in Raylan, as well as the desire to have the older marshal around as often as he could ask, was bright in steel blue eyes. By extension, and on the merits that the gunslinger hadn't slapped him in the face, Doc was on that very short list of people Tim was starting to have faith in; be comfortable having in his space.

With a soft sigh, Tim moved to straighten up, least he give in to the desire to lean against Raylan all day. He suspected the older man had plenty of other people to check in on.

"When you swing by, bring your appetite as well as food. I'll cook vegetables for the meal. Thinking some grilled vegetables, that haven't plopped out of a can, sound pretty tasty." His eyes slid to the plums, bruised though they were, and the small grin on his lips suggested that Raylan had made a good choice in bringing them along with the sandwiches.

"Might as well indulge ourselves while they're available, and there will be 'shine, nice and cold from the freezer, to go with our repast."

Edited 2021-07-16 00:14 (UTC)

Raylan was pleased that Tim was accepting at least a little help with the feeding thing. It was the only way he could take care of the man, knowing full well that Tim didn't strictly need that help. But it was also the best excuse to come and exist in Tim's space and the sniper's willingness to open that door without Raylan having a court document asking to date with him was good.

"That'll make things easier. I can get behind a grilled veggies or something. Grilled Lettuce. Sounds fancy. You got any ideas around the food cart? Think that Mathis is trying to ply us or make sure we're healthy for somethin' to come?"

It was late in the day; Raylan had only one place to go after this.

In the interest of transparency, Tim was not a 'date' sort of guy. He was more, wear an appropriately tight outfit, go hold up the bar until someone came along and bought him a drink kinda guy. The idea of wine and dine, complete with getting to know you appropriate small talk? Not in his vocabulary.

Tim made a face that suggested he was not sure about the whole grilling lettuce idea, but hey might be worth a shot. As for the question, the sniper gave a shrug of his shoulders and leaned close so that his hip was in Raylan's space.

"Same theory we've talked about before. We're caught on somebody else's' battlefield. Things are happening beyond our ability to make rational sense of it, so for us we're only aware of experiencing quick pockets of time and reality."

Tim might not be a 'date' kind of guy, but it was hard to back that up when Raylan had just been proposed to in the most aggressive and masculine sort of way. They could skip the small talk and the painful 'getting to know you' talk entirely. Tim had seen too much, told Raylan too much for them to go through that process.

Raylan hummed a short note, his weight bearing hand shifting out behind Tim so that his his were tilted towards the man.

"Mm, I suppose it fits. Still don't like it, if I'm honest, but I'm not throwin' it out yet." Tim was too smart for him to discount what the man was saying. "Guess I should just take the fruit and be glad of it, huh?"

065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

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cw: drug abuse, rough childhood

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