065-071 » assign to oblivion / part iii

[villagemod]

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.)

navigation | faq | locations | report updates

Comments

[tinstar]

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you." He knew it wasn't, not on the topic they were talking about but confidence could carry a man pretty far. More bravado that didn't matter, not in the equation of the cowboys presence.

Raylan watched Henry's expression at the impassioned speech with a serious expression. "You're mixin' perspectives. It ain't nothin' more than the precepts of faith. In the now, it matters, without question. All we got are the days we find with each other. But the bigger picture, the one that involves timelines and... I dunno, the Space Time Continuum. Where part of us is cut out and tossed into the void. These kinda things are small potatoes. Moot if we don't have them, don't bear their scars." It was like the stupid people of the world, who were too stupid to know they were. It was all about context and awareness that they weren't guaranteed.

"You remember so much, yes. A valuable time long gone. And when you finally perish from livin', those stories are gonna be bare threads, half assumed and assumed incorrectly by those in the future learnin' about it. History writes what's remembered and what's written is done so by the winners. Not always the most gracious of winners. We've lost more than the whole knowledge we've currently got at least once and their work.. It doesn't matter to the future. We had to rebuild anyway.

Why do anything? Because I desperately hope that we get to keep it. Because if we do, I don't have to go back to bein' the way I was." Nevermind the clinical breakdown of what Raylan is or how he's changed.

There was a philosopher there, under that hat, somewhere.

"We matter, Henry." And he wasn't just talking about them, as individuals. The undefined Them matted and Raylan wouldn't have it any other way. They wouldn't be themselves if they did. "I'm not sayin' we don't."

[thering]

"Look, I 'on't know anything about that space time stuff." And Raylan can easily glean from the wrinkling of Doc's nose and the frown that he frankly don't give a shit. He can understand not wanting to be the way he used to be - nobody likes an unpleasant, bitter bastard, for his part - but he's got enough problems in his small little world that he doesn't need to concern himself with this fuzzy, nebulous big picture he can't possibly hope to comprehend. And frankly, Raylan ought to keep his own house in order before starting to worry about all that other stuff too. Not that Doc is going to say that aloud.

"I'm just some irrelevant old man here to enjoy your company--" Doc raises a hand before Raylan tries to overthink that one. "--whether that's over dinner or doin' anything other than sleeping or however I can get it. Have a few drinks. And make sure we all get out alive. Maybe even Negan." He won't... intentionally kill Negan or sabotage anything. But he might make an unhappy water buffalo noise if he's going to be asked to help him out.

"I enjoy complications as much as any other man but there ain't no need to be making a big mess of this now all up in your head." And, speaking of drinks, don't mind if he lifts his glass and takes another big gulp down.

[tinstar]

Easily glean he did, and while it wasn't like Raylan knew any more about it than Doc did, speculation kept his mind busy in a way that he needed. This was the only time looking that large mattered, even theoretically. Frankly, Raylan would be happier when it wasn't something he had to try and answer. The problems of other men were much simpler.

Specifically other men and not whatever state his houses are or aren't in.

"You might he a lotta things, but irrelevant is not onn'a them," Raylan chuckled behind a drink of his own. But now that Henry's included Negan in the saving, Raylan is mollified on the point and would let it go, satisfied without needing to chase 'irrelevant' back down the pipe. He got the point.

"You're the one that started it," he accused playfully, unsure if that was actually the case or not.

"But we got plenty of moonshine and plenty to talk about that ain't us or the mechanics of this place. Like my needin' to go back out and securing some of those gravewalls. Probably should have dug it all a little shallower, in retrospect."

[thering]

"You know, most people find other ways of passing the time. Gardening or... Learning to make. Paella." Why that was the first thing off the top of his head, he doesn't know. It's out there now anyway.

"I'd save you your spot right there when this all goes to shits," he jokes with a little smug chuckle. Dug your own grave there, Raylan, with those complicated, pesky 'relationships' things. Nasty business, that.

"I know we're expecting more bodies, but that could just turn to sludge or fill with water or who knows what." Doc was desensitised to death long before coming to Mathias and he doesn't mind discussing it - somehow it's even easier to talk about rather than those knots Raylan keeps twisting himself up in.

[tinstar]

He rolled a shoulder, making a joke of the macabre subject with a pull of his smile. "I like breakin' a mold or three, what can I say. One day you'll have to tell me what Paella is." That sounded a little too cultured for such a man as him.

"I've already dodged that bullet," he conceded, not unaware of his own situation. "If one of 'em were gonna kill me, they woulda already done it.." He sounded ambivalent. Raylan was anything but that. Rather, he'd prefer to not talk about his relationship issues anymore tonight, unless it was talking about his relationship with Henry somehow. He doubted that was really on the books.

"That was brought up to me the day that I was diggin' them but I figured I could keep them up. And if I don't, shit," he scoffed with a shake of his head and a lift of his glass. "I'll dig three more. Might as well make it my new career here. I can backfill the other ones because we put the dirt just on the tree line. Dirt's too valuable to try and get rid of. Maybe you'll help me with those and we can work off some of our drinkin'."

[thering]

"It's. Everything thrown in a pan and hoping for the best." Which is probably not the most flattering description of paella, he's had some fantastic ones over the years, but a lot of things Doc does in the kitchen is more or less throwing everything in a pan and hoping for the best. Occasionally if he's not feeling all that lucky, he'll use the microwave. Neal had put his culinary expeditions to shame.

"You ought to come on supply runs with me," Doc suggests. He has nothing against gravedigging - he's dug a few with Raylan, he doesn't think it's overly morbid or necessarily even a waste of time, and it's not the worst way to pass the day - but between preparing for the dead and preparing for the living, the latter might feel like a more rewarding endeavour for Raylan.

Besides, Doc doesn't mind the company. People will start mistaking them for day time friends and night time lovers if they're only together on the porch and occasionally in bed, as much as neither of them so much as breathes about what happens in bed.

He empties his glass of moonshine and breathes out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and slumping a little in his chair.

"I will help you with your graves. And you can come be my pack mule." Sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it?

[tinstar]

Raylan's eyebrows bobbed. "Sounds pretty good. Some of the best meals I've ever had were just stuff thrown into a pan. I can't knock it." Doc was talking to one of the most low rent men in Mathis - Neal's cooking skills were almost wasted on the man that barely tasted anything as he shoveled food into his maw.

Maybe Doc was right about Raylan never getting any better.

The Marshal looked over with an intrigued look at the offer, eyebrows staying half lifted in his not so subtle surprise. "I thought you used those to get away from us for a little while. Not that I'm sayin' no. Especially if bein' a pack mule gets me some help in the graveyard."

Help he was secure, foolishly, in the hope that Doc wouldn't vanish like others had. Raylan knew that was setting himself up for a shattering disappointment if Doc ever did vanish like that. He was willing to work his half of a deal. Especially if it earned him more time next to the gunslinger. Yes, he was greedy, no matter what other's might see or say about it. He was slowly coming to a point where it didn't matter; a healthier perspective than had previous been taken.

"Might keep us both busier on the edges, fill in some of that wanderin' time. I'm still minding the fog in the treeline. It keeps movin' on us. The ebb and flow. Too much like the tide and the beach, if you ask me. I'd rather have something to keep my hands and brain busy when I'm not lookin' at it. Keep me from goin' fully overboard."

Honestly, he might be there already. His attention to the trees bordered on unhealthy, but it was the only thing left that wasn't consistently covered by someone else.

"I promise I won't saddle you with small talk unless you want it."

[thering]

"Just things that need to get done." Honestly, Doc doesn't mind the alone time at all, but he doesn't necessarily duck out for those long hours just because he wants to be left alone. He's had quite enough of alone to last a few lifetimes.

"If anyone can glare that fog into submission I suppose it'd be you." They haven't had to fend off another bout of vicious fog. Strangely enough, the days where they were only worried about the fog seemed like a blissful window of their time in Mathias. Things had seemed so much less complicated than they are today. Or at least, they (naively, perhaps) only had fewer things to worry about back then.

That Doc is worried about Raylan having gone overboard already is left unsaid. Doc worries about a lot of things, even though he might brush them off or play them down. It's evident enough to see in his eyes and in his posture. They don't need to comment about it unless Raylan is feeling particularly defensive. Nobody would blame anyone for going overboard by now. Least of all John Henry. They shoulder more than anyone humanly should.

"I wouldn't mind the other distractions you come with. Small talk or... whatever else catches your fancy." They can save small talk for the porch, although one might argue that porch talks are far more important than just idle banter. Or pillow talk, if cowboys do anything other than sleep and snore on them. Empty another bottle of 'shine and Doc might start mentioning something downright scandalous.

"I'm not drinking you dry, am I?" He can always go fetch another crate bottle, but then he'd have to get up and leave the house.

[tinstar]

Just things that need to get done. Simple things always grounded him, be that tidying up his motel room or cleaning his gun and he'd fallen out of rhythm. It would be good to fall back into a habit that wasn't solely attempting to poison his liver, give him something to do everyday that wasn't twist himself into oblivion over how 1306 would be when he came back.

"I'm gonna give it my best shot. With all my impressive glowerin' skills," he said, smirking smugly over the edge of his glass. He knew it wasn't going to do anything, practically speaking, but even joking about it really did make him feel better. If Doc was worried now, he had a landslide of worry coming to him - Raylan still had all his faculties, currently. Or most of them, as the argument might be.

Raylan slid his eyes over, slits of amusement over the curl of his smile. It was a good expression for both the statement and the question.

"I come with plenty of distractions and at least two more bottles of 'shine under the cabinet there. We could always.. relocate it to some place more comfortable."

[thering]

He's not at all surprised about Raylan's secret stashes of booze. He's only impressed that it didn't take Raylan that long at all to start those stashes here. The Marshal hasn't been holed up here that long, has he?

"In that case, I shall liberate those bottles." They're not going to age once they've been bottled up, and certainly not stay closeted while two whole cowboys are moping around in this house.

"Maybe take 'em upstairs. Bedroom." Is that miserable? Drinking in bed? Doc doesn't think so. Other things will be happening in bed, from the sounds of it.

"Bring your glass. Or don't. The dishes can wait." Doc moves to stand and ambles over to said cabinet, picking up a bottle in each hand. He won't hurry Raylan along while he's still working through the last of his worries over the dining table. But he's hoping Raylan will leave them at the door once he makes his way upstairs.

[tinstar]

The past few days had been uncertain. Raylan was back to not knowing where he was going to be laying his head and once he'd chosen this house as a backup, stocking up seemed practical. Prepping for the worst was what he was good at. Raylan hummed in short approval, face curling under a small, self satisfied smile at the talk of liberation and bedroom drinking.

Far better that they be mopey and whatever else they get up to upstairs than sitting down here like sad lumps on a log.

"Oh well, with an invitation like that," he chuckled as he pushed to his feet and followed Doc. "I'd be foolish to say no." There were no room for worries upstairs when Doc was there; all worries were left at the bottom of the stairs as Raylan enjoyed the view of Doc's ass in those jeans.

"I think glasses are for dinners and niceties. We don't tend to carry many of those upstairs. Besides, we've swapped enough germs that we're safe enough. Anythin' else we can wash off later."

[thering]

Them jeans are only too tight if he can't fit in them, and he can fit in them just fine, so clearly unless Raylan is struggling to get them off (there's no evidence of that), he can continue to appreciate Doc in all manner of butt-hugging pants.

The glasses are more to pace themselves, to have something to hold and stroke while they talk, but they don't always need that when they have retired upstairs, when they're keeping each other company and have their hands full with other matters.

"That's a little presumptuous of you," Doc teases, casting a half-over his shoulder glance before he reaches the top of the stairs and ambles past bedroom doors until he finds one that looks either lived in or just not dustier than he wants to think about. He's not sure which parts Raylan's made himself at home in this house, but he doubts Raylan had been planning on anything for the long haul anyway.

"Not very appealing either, this germ-swapping talk. We'll have to work on that," he nudges gently as he sets the bottles down on the bedside table and sits on the edge of a bed that thankfully doesn't kick up a swarm of dust all around them. Lord knows these aren't the kinds of germs he wants to be worrying about.

[tinstar]

They hadn't tried taking them off when they were wet yet, that was the real tell of if they were too tight. Raylan wasn't going to be racing to find that out; it could be left to the mystery of science to figure out later and not ruin his view.

There was bound to be at least one glass upstairs if Henry got tired of passing, though Raylan would argue, their glasses were the bottles housing their beloved 'shine in the first place. Something easily set down to be replaced by something better until their next drink.

Raylan always chose the Master, if he could and here was no different and that was the one Henry waltzed into with Raylan ambling behind. Instead of sitting down next to the gunslinger like some doe eyed teenager, Raylan headed to the window to peer out of it like the street would show him anything new. Spoiler, it didn't. Hazel eyes slide back to Henry, glinting in amusement as he turned to face the man, hands propping on his crookedly sat hips.

"Forever a project with me, huh?" he teased with a grin as his hands drop, long legs taking him over to those bottles and grabbing one before setting himself down a half foot away. "Thought it was only my manners out there that mattered."

He knew it mattered everywhere, even here, no matter how rough and ungentlemanly they were when they were alone together. Despite his bottle being in hand, Raylan didn't open it yet, almost like he was looking for a reason not to.

[thering]

"I happen to appreciate some of your uncouth savagery." Raylan would no doubt get sick and tired of Doc very fast if he was all just full of negative and fault-finding, corrective commentary and nothing else. And Doc wouldn't blame him either.

Leaning over closer, Doc takes the bottle from Raylan's hand and sets it aside, lying it down on the bed but with the lid firmly screwed on. Getting shitfaced can wait. They do it just about every night. Spending a night together, however, is not something they do all that often, and while he probably shouldn't impose on Raylan's self-exile with more complications on his already complicated relationship woes, they both know (or at least, Doc assumes Raylan does) what each other is after. Complications is not high on that list.

"You seem rather well-mannered right now," Doc observes as he tries to get Raylan to lie down on his back by giving him a nudge on the shoulders. He can't say that he likes his Marshals pliant and demure but Raylan is anything but, even if he can be coaxed into being a little more compliant right now. They've both already had quite a bit to drink, so Raylan doesn't feel that much hotter to the touch because Doc himself is burning up quite nicely. Another bottle more, possibly two, and they'll be rolling around on the floor, wrapped up in each other with quiet nuzzling and inappropriate giggling.

"I should like to see you come undone." Preferably before the night is through, but Doc isn't wont to rush things right now. They can do a bit of pinning, a bit of unsolicited, scandalous touching, meander their way towards drunken debauchery. Take things slow, do it right, as it should be in the South.

[tinstar]

"Mmhmm," Raylan hummed disbelievingly, face curled in amusement. "I'm fairly sure that's the first time those words have ever seen air in reference to me," he said, the curl of amusement breaking into a cheeky little crooked grin as Henry takes the bottle back from him and sets it aside. He didn't mind, they'd already had several drinks. He'd rather get drunk on the natural high that being here, being happy in the moment with Doc gave him.

The nudge on his shoulder was more than enough to urge him back but it also let him run a hand up Henry's back as he encouraged the gunslinger to come down with him so his off hand could hook and pull at Henry's belt. No, he knew what they were after. A baser simplicity that got harder to lay hands on when things got complicated. When complicated things were looked at, voiced. They had enough complications outside the door. Here? This was space for something better. Easier.

"You would, huh?" Raylan slides a hand up around Henry's jaw, drawing him and his mustache down for a kiss as he mutters, "I think we can manage a show before the night's through." Just in case Henry had an idea that he was going anywhere after they were done; Raylan was gonna claim his whole night if allowed.

It would be a lie to say that Raylan's heart didn't swell a little when kissing Henry or that his hands didn't grip a little tighter on those narrow hips like he could hold them together for a little longer than he had any right to. Raylan knew that he had to soak as much of the man in as he could now, before Mathis and her bullshit robbed him of it again.