villagelogs | 072-078 » pages of possible futures

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072-078 » pages of possible futures

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Mathias Township proper
WHEN: Days 072-078
WHAT: The future is set in motion once more.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! Next log will be the weekend of July 31.
MOD NOTE: The week did not go as planned. Apologies for the delay on this log and thank you for your patience!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Marco Beltrami "Bad Omens"

DAY 072
“The visions are fragmented and a dark cloud spreads
like spilt ink across the pages of possible futures.”
— Garth Nix
Blue skies greet residents on this bright new morning filled with summer sunshine. It's a day when birds would normally be singing, when there would be boats taken out on the water, children laughing and running through the streets. But in Mathias there is only silence, eerie and almost deafening in its absoluteness, and those blue skies do not stretch on forever. Far off on the horizon are dark clouds stretching ominously in all directions, never moving closer or farther away. They are always there, dark and angry, as if waiting... For what, who can say, but they will remain there for the days going forward, circling the town like a shark circles a meal.

Despite that dreadful darkness in the distance, there is some good news. Residents will also wake to find that their previously missing belongings have returned to them. Clothing and other personal effects are right where they should have been, as if they have always been there, and there is no sign of them having been returned by someone or something. They're just there.

That is, however, the extent of the good news. Residents who visit the Town Hall will find the bulletin board much changed, and those who have thrown caution to the wind and made use the sedatives found within Baneberry Hall will begin to find themselves changing as well. They are easily distracted while awake and plagued by nightmares while asleep. They dream of Mathias burning, fire spreading from the east until it consumes everything in its path. With increasing intensity as the week continues, they will wake with terror gripping their chests and sweat covering their too-hot skin.

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. 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.

DAY 073-075
With those dark clouds still hanging on the horizon, some residents may find themselves watching the ocean a little more closely, searching for signs of whatever it is they are beginning to sense is approaching. If they do, they will find those signs, for every so often a dark shape will appear from out of the water before disappearing a few moments later. Residents are welcome to try getting a better look at those shapes, though moving to higher vantage points will be ineffective and swimming may not be the best investigation method.

Nightfall strengthens the sense of that elusive something. Though nothing can be seen in the darkness, there is something out there. They can feel it when they are outside themselves, a heavy presence that their animal instincts warn them against, urging them to flee to safety indoors. But once inside, they can hear whatever is out there in the night, the sounds horrifying and yet utterly indescribable and beyond the limits of their perception.

There is no way to glimpse what might be making those sounds, nor is there any way to properly record them, though attempts may be made to do so.

DAY 076-077
The strange occurrences of recent days continue as something attempts to lead residents out into the southern forest should they venture within view of the treeline. Unrecognizable voices may call out incoherently or the sounds of someone moving through the trees may pull at their attention. Or, perhaps, a dark figure entering the forest will catch their eye, pulling them to follow the possibly feminine figure with no discernible characteristics.

Whatever it is, it will lead them along the paths or even away from their relative safety, winding this way and that until they're completely lost within the expanse of sun-dappled trees that seem innocent and threatening at the same time. There is nothing left to do but continue following that figure that is always just ahead at the edge of sight.

Eventually, the trees stop and there is a stretch of clearing, the sky a crisp blue overhead, sun shining down and yet—

That dark figure is still shrouded in shadow, as are the other four that have joined it. All slight with long hair, something feminine in the way they stand with hands held out at their sides, facing outward in a line along the edge of the ravine that borders the township, though for some reason their features cannot be focused on enough for true comprehension. They stand there in silence as if waiting, so close to the edge that a strong wind could easily knock them over into oblivion. A concerned resident might try to stop them; a curious one might try to finally get a better look at the figures that led them to this place. Regardless of the reason, any movement into the clearing toward them will end in the same result.

All five figures step forward as one and disappear into the nothingness below.

The ravine so deep that the bottom cannot be seen and wide enough that the other side is tantalizingly out of reach. At first, there is the sense that safety is just beyond if only they could get there, but with that sensation is also the knowledge that if they stay here, death will be a certainty. The edge seems unsteady, like getting too close would set it crumbling and send them tumbling into that as well...

That is when those who do venture to the edge see the truth of the ravine and what lies beyond it: nothing. There is a neverending dark nothingness below and beyond this ravine, beyond this town, and there is something staring back from within the dark.

DAY 078
As morning arrives in Mathias, so too does the storm. Those clouds that hovered in the distance move in quickly, plunging the town into a twilight-like darkness. The rumbling that breaks the silence is like that of a thunderstorm but infinitely more ominous, signaling something approaching that is not meant for the world of man. Within just a few minutes, the residents will learn why as lightning arcs across the sky, the cracks of powerful energy echoing through the air. Those branching spikes at first remain in the sky, but then suddenly they crash down to meet the earth, striking the Lighthouse. The sound of splintering wood and pierced metal fills the air, followed moments later by the roaring crackle of a fire raging into existence. Those cracks and crashes continue as the lightning moves inward, hitting the forest, the beach, and the Grey Gull before moving down Phillips Drive to attack the homes left rotting by time.

While the lightning eventually retreats to the sky, the fire spreads with purpose. It leaps from building to building, consuming everything in its path. It is a living, breathing thing driven by a need to devour. There is no stopping or controlling the almost sentient entity, for it does not behave as fire normally would — it skips buildings before doubling back, burns when there's nothing to fuel it, and seems to almost actively pursue residents fleeing to safety. Ultimately, the fire consumes everything east of the Library, from Jackson Boulevard to the beach and the northeastern forest to the Lighthouse; for an unknown reason, it does not venture farther inland than this.

Ash falls from the sky like snow throughout the town as the eastern half of Mathias glows a terrifying raging red. Residents may seek sanctuary in businesses along the square or in areas in the western half of the town, though the latter will not be without its own risks and consequences.

SANITY LOSS

There are multiple opportunities for sanity loss within this log. All instances of such should be reported before the next log.
— BANEBERRY SEDATIVES These will effect all who have taken them, regardless of type, quantity, or frequency, until the storm on day 78. Each night of nightmares will result in 1 point of sanity loss for a potential total loss of 6 points.

— FIGURES IN THE FOREST All who witness the figures jump into ravine will suffer 3 points of sanity loss.

— SEEING BEYOND THE RAVINE Any who see the truth of what is beyond the ravine will suffer 7 points of sanity loss that cannot be recovered. Additionally, any Madness that results from this sanity loss begins immediately.

— DEATH BY FIRE All who are killed by the fire lose 3 sanity points and gain the Madness pyrophobia for seven days, which should be reported. The pyrophobia will be experienced at an intensive level for the duration of the Madness.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER Summer has arrived in Mathias, bringing with it warm days that average 70°F and comfortably cool nights.

— THE FOG has maintained its recent 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 have ceased for the moment but they're sure to begin again soon.

OOC NOTES

— ENDGAME We are officially heading into endgame. Over the next few months, things will begin ramping up and moving toward the always planned conclusion, with the last log projected to go up between the end of October and middle of December.

What does this mean? Essentially, hopefully, this will mean more opportunities to dig into the mysteries and lore of the game, as well as more chances for your characters to creep toward insanity. However, how things progress and what information comes to light will depend upon character interaction with the setting and involvement with the mysteries of Mathias.

— ITEMS FROM HOME All items from home have returned to the exact state and location in which they were last seen. This includes all clothing and possessions they had on their person when they arrived in Mathias (or, for arrivals in the previous log, what they should have had). Items from home that were left behind by other characters no longer in the game have also returned.

— THE FIRE A rough representation of where the fire spreads is available over here.

— REMINDER There are a lot of moving parts to this log, as there will be for all logs going forward. Read the narrative and all OOC notes thoroughly and carefully. Ask questions if something is not clear, but please also look through questions others have asked for further clarification.

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Raylan's hands worked for half a second before he was thumbing his horseshoe ring back and forth, weight shifting again as the noises faded away again, leaving him feeling no less anxious than before. Ever since seeing the figures the day before, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about them, or the gap he'd looked into. It's down there

Tim's training was right and his instincts about the general State of Raylan Givens was correct. Raylan had always trusted that was the case so Raylan didn't think, couldn't think about the fact of WHY Tim hadn't answered his question. He had to have heard it too.

"No, no. There's.. people in the woods. Jeff and I saw them, we-" His thumb worried against his ring again as his face contorted. "They looked like women in cloaks, they -They jumped into a ravine, and we.. It's there, in the darkness of it all, Tim. It's there. But if I go back in, if I don't get lost, I know where I'm going." The lodge. He had said it had to be at the Lodge.

Dark blue eyes flicked towards where Raylan was worrying at his ring, then back up to the man's face. The burrow between his eyebrows tightened as Raylan started to talk about figures, a ravine and darkness.

'Fuck you, Mathias. Couldn't leave him alone could you.' he thought sharply towards the town while inwardly battling between two urges.

One was to ask Raylan to show him the ravine. Maybe see these figures, wondering if they were anything like what he kept trying to pinpoint on the horizon out at sea. But then Raylan went on, talking about darkness and something being there and seemingly contradicting himself in the span of a few words. Something wasn't setting right and the stronger urge was to keep Raylan as far away from the ravine as he could manage.

"You an Jeff saw em," he reiterated the statement as a fact, nodding in the direction of town. "How about we go see if we can find Jeff. Maybe he can help us fill in some gaps and reduce the risk of getting lost in here."

It wasn't a total pile of bullshit just designed to get Raylan away from the forest. If they came across Jeff Tim was definitely going to inquire about the man's experiences. The sniper just might not be planning to make as concerted an effort to find the bard as he was leading Raylan to believe.

"I can fill in the gaps, Tim," he half admonished, eyes dancing over Tim's face before he was staring back out into the woods. There wasn't enough sense in him to be truly offended about the suggestion that they go get the Bard, nor to realize that Tim was trying to herd him. He was herdable, for once in his life.

"I could get us there," he insisted softly with a shake of his head. "We don't know when the fog is coming back and we can't rot, there's no reason not to."

Except that he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Tim and that was the truth. It felt like he had Compulsion again. He didn't - this was fear and mental instability and grasping at the confidence and surety he had a few days before.

Raylan Givens was, in Tim's experience, a man with one of the strongest will and grounded sense of reality he had ever met. He held his ground and watched as the older marshal began to shake his head and run through reasons to keep blindly diving through the woods.

Tim's own natural ability to read people was telling him that Raylan was starting to talk himself down, or at least in a different direction. The sniper stayed in place, trying to avoid putting pressure on his partner in any particular direction. He had full confidence that if he had to lay Raylan out, for the cowboy's own good, he could do it but he certainly did not want them going down that route.

It felt like it would be better for Raylan if he was able to walk himself back from whatever edge Mathias had nearly driven him over. Yeah, yeah, toxic masculine pride and all that, but Tim had lived that environment and used it as defense against situations that put the fear of God into him. Some habits were hard to break.

"I know you could," he said softly and he glanced over his shoulder to look in the direction Raylan had been staring. "Do you honestly believe it's the right play here?"

The question was a risk. Raylan may latch on to the idea and bolt like a half broke colt. If so, Tim would follow and do his damndest to keep the older man safe and sound. But that odd telepathy between partners, that they never talk about, suggested there was an even chance that Raylan would take the safe out the question offered.

The assurance was nice. Maybe he wasn't going crazy. ~~He definitely was~~. Tim believed him. He believed Tim would follow him. The question was definitely a gamble. One that Tim lost by no fault of his own.

These weren't normal times.

"We're given the opportunity for a reason," he said, clapping Tim on the shoulder as he long stepped into the woods, adrenaline spiking as his better senses screamed for him to not saunter towards the feeling of imminent doom he'd felt before. That he felt now the further in he got.

"Keep your eye out for figures."

'Goddamnit. Great Gutterson, real great.' Tim mentally kicked himself for choosing the wrong door but he had taken the calculated risk with a plan B in mind. Seemed that plan B was now in motion and he'd better start working on plans C thru F in case this turned out to be the complete FUBAR he feared.

Except.

EXCEPT!

There was one last possible play!! Never let it be said that Tim Gutterson was not good at thinking on his feet!

"Where's your hat, Raylan?"

"Oh, I-.. guess I left it at one of the houses. Doesn't matter. Don't tell me you're joinin' the groups sayin' I'm not me if I'm not wearin' it. Don't want to lose it anyway. Probably for the better."

If there was one thing Raylan knew how to do that wasn't shooting, it was moving fairly silently through the forest, picking his way expertly forward.

Sorry Tim, you're going to have to actually lay hands on him to veer him off now.

'GodFUCKINGdamnit.' Tim plunged into the forest jogging a couple of quick steps to catch up with his partner.

The majority of his focus was on Raylan, but even then as they headed deeper into the trees Tim could feel his skin start to crawl. He'd started after the older man figuring he could humor him but with each step the warning bells in his psyche, which had never fully toned down, screamed louder and louder.

"Raylan," Tim began, taking another quick step and reaching out to grab at the cowboy's elbow. "Raylan! This isn't feeling right." Tim put other people in his crosshairs. He did not like having the sense of the tables being turned.

The hand on him was enough to stop him, to ground him and to break him half from the trench of thinking he'd spiraled into, dark, confused eyes swinging back to Tim's face. He didn't understand; hadn't Tim just agreed to come in here with him?

"Nothin' here does. That's how we know we're on the right path. That disquiet you feel?" he asked leaning in a fraction, eye earnest in the way they searched Tim's deep blues. "That means she wants us to leave her alone."

It was more a plead than anything else and there was a reason he hadn't extradited himself out of Tim's grip. Tim still had control, even if Raylan was leading the way. His defenses had tried everything else; giving up that end goal control to a trusted source was all it had left.

Those dark eyes, the earnest look in them made Tim want to relent. Raylan made a compelling case for continuing but instincts that had saved the Ranger's ass on numerous occasions were churning his gut.

He wanted to let go but at the same moment felt his grip tighten and with it his resolve.

"I think we're best served to take the hint," he said and for the first time he deliberately stepped back, seeking to pull Raylan with him. "This doesn't feel right, and it ain't just about the town wanting to keep us away."

If anything Tim was starting to feel a pull forward. There had been movement in his peripheral vision and it had taken every ounce of self-control to keep from turning towards the motion. His senses were at in theater levels and screaming TRAP. With each passing breath he felt a growing urge to pull Raylan further and further away.

'You can't have him!' The thought came unbidden and Tim might think more on it later but right now he took a second step back, grip tightening as he was almost to a point that he'd have to try to drag the cowboy if Raylan didn't relent.

There was something about the way Tim's hand tightened around his arm, the way Tim's face pinched with a very real concern that the Marshal couldn't ignore the plead that was underneath it. It was for Tim's sake that he relented and stepped forward with Tim's backsteps.

"We're not gonna get another chance," he tried, a last ditch effort, even if Raylan didn't realize that's what it was from where he was standing. "The fog is gonna come back, choke this place out, the Lodge it's just-"

But Tim was still moving and Raylan was moving with him, working their way slowly back towards sanity. "It's okay."

It wasn't okay.

If it worked best in Raylan's mind to frame his retreat as yielding for the sniper's sake? Tim would take it. Because there was a healthy amount of truth to that perspective. This was Tim who wanted to fall back. Whether that was because he was starting to get ants in his pants, or he wanted to get Raylan the fuck out of the woods.

Spoiler. It was both.

It was both and Tim kept them moving. Back through the trees, towards the clearing that would put them back into Mathias.

"It is okay," well no, none of this shit was okay but this decisions? In this moment? "You look like you could use something to eat? How about you come with me ..." he began then paused briefly because down by the ocean might not be the most comfortable spot. "Is there still cocoa in 1308? How about I do the cooking for a change?"

There was no room in his head right now to frame this in logical terms, in the terms of the trauma he suffered seeing what he did; framing this as a concession to Tim's senses was better. It followed his instinct too - Tim didn't often object to something, being who and what he was, so if Tim said they should retreat, it made the idea more palatable.

Raylan followed, step after step with only a few inevitable glances back as he imagined all the answers that they were walking away from. It's right there.

But he wasn't so far gone that he would tear out of Tim's grasp and run that way.

"Probably," he answered to the question of cocoa at 1308. "Lotta people been stayin' there with the way nights have been. Have you been okay?"

Better that question than following up how poorly Raylan had been taking care of his most basic needs, half evident by the bags under his eyes.

The way Raylan kept glancing back, it would be a lie to say that Tim wasn't tempted by the idea of answers being just within reach. Then his pragmatic side kicked his mental ass and pointed out that the idea of Mathias just willy nilly giving up her secrets was wishful thinking. Get Raylan back to the relative safety of Phillips Drive.

The younger marshal kept ahold of his partner's elbow as they began to pick their way through the last stands of trees. It was a perp hold but it would allow Tim to keep that physical contact once they were out in the open, where eyes could find them.

Raylan was asking questions. Questions that were not 'the lodge is right there' and Tim was happy to jump on the conversational gambit.

"I've been okay," he answered with deliberate neutrality. "Won't say the sleeps been as good as it was a week ago, which is pissing me off because I'd gotten use to that solid sleep." When scared, freaked out and anxious as hell, getting pissed at the world was typical Gutterson go to response.

"You're looking a little ragged," he pointed out feeling a sense of relief move across his shoulders as they broke clear of the tree line. "When was the last time you slowed down enough to eat or catch more than thirty minutes?"

Raylan didn't believe him but that didn't matter and was rejected into that pile before it got all the way across his mind. A week ago, Tim had been in his house, now he wasn't. Raylan didn't let that thought get to his tongue either.

Once they broke free from the tree-line, Raylan looked back one more time. Leaving was logically a good idea but he couldn't help the urge to break free and scurry back. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that if he got Tim killed, a) Tim died and b) it'd be another strike on the 'using people' list that Tim had started and Doc had filled out further.

"Doesn't matter. There's too much to do, too much to figure out." There's also no mirrors outside. Raylan had kept himself quiet about it so far in the hopes that it would go away, that he could just avoid it until it did. "I catch a nap at night if I can, I'm fine. What were you doin' out this way?"

'out this way?'

Raylan made it sound like Tim had moved to the back forty. There was something there, a pocket of pus under a blackhead that needed to be picked open and flushed. It hadn't been lost on Tim that his perspective on moving to King Lane and Raylan's were quite a bit different.

The sniper wasn't sure why that was, as it didn't feel like he'd gone that far. Regardless, it had become somewhat apparent that Raylan seemed to feel differently and they might need to talk about it. Not now though. Right now it felt like the older marshal was on the edge of a complete collapse and the last thing he needed was poking at more scar tissue.

"Checking the bulletin board again, to see if anything had chanced from a few days ago," he began still trying to coax and herd Raylan towards 1308. "Taking a break from staring out at the damn ocean and seeing a whole lot of nothing for my effort." That came with an underlying snarl. The Ranger was definitely frustrated with that bit of bullshit from Mathias.

"Hoping for a reprieve from whatever is fucking with my head down there. Each day it's gotten worse. Feels like my skin is trying to crawl off my bones."

"Anything answer my message?" Not 'any one'. Anything was more appropriate; if Mathis was going to respond, she would be classified as a 'thing'.

If he was honest, he was glad to have Tim's eyes locked somewhere that needed watching. He'd seen the figures in the water the day before he got lost in the forest with Jeff and they'd left him with a disquiet that was fed by the sounds and bumps haunting them at night. None of which was helped by Raylan's lack of sleep.

"You shouldn't be up there. I won't stop you but you shouldn't be up there."

Raylan was mostly easily herded until they got back onto Phillips Drive, where his feet slowed back down to dragging his heels. He just realized he had no idea where the mirrors outside the bathrooms were. Shit. The idea of seeing anything in reflection, even himself made the idea of going back into the forest logical enough to follow all over again.

"Mathias is passive aggressive," he said in a dry tone. "Doesn't simply leave you a note, has to get increasingly bitchy night after night."

He made a weak joke of it only because he trusted that Raylan would pick up on the admission Tim had just made. That things were getting worse, and it was no doubt leading up to something ugly on the horizon.

Which dovetailed right into the older man's second statement. Tim took a deep breath and he nodded. "You're probably right," he acknowledged, but when he looked up to his partner's face, his eyes were heavy with the reality that this was the job. He would keep holding point.

When Raylan started to slow, dragging his heels, Tim expected to have an argument coming his way. But when he looked up at the man's face, it appeared as if all the color had drained out.

"Raylan?" He said with a worried sharpness, moving to set one hand at the small of the cowboy's back, the other on his elbow. "What's wrong?"

Raylan had noted the admission. Tim had admitted it and was choosing the rockier path again. He couldn't stop him. He didn't have the mental acuity to try; that had been given up in his last 2 tries. What Raylan needed was his job and what he was good at. None of what Mathis supplied was what he was good at.

"I don't know where the mirrors are in the house," he whispered fearfully, eyes locked on 1308 and 1306 as his hand started working again at his sides, ring being worried in between it all. "I can't remember."

Tim's hands on him was the only reason he wasn't backing away; the urge to go back was still there. He could go to that other house, across from the graveyard, he knew there weren't mirrors there except in the bathrooms.

Wait. What?

At first Tim wasn't sure he'd heard right and he turned to look at Raylan with a quizzical expression on his face. But when confronted with the way the older man was staring at the houses, as if they were about to draw on him, and the worrying of his horseshoe ring? The sniper was forced to accept that he had just heard right.

It made no sense and for a couple of breaths Tim's brain refused to process what was happening in front of him. When he was able to throw off preconceived notions, his expression softened. Whatever was going on behind those dark eyes, the demons Raylan was fighting were very real and very dangerous. The Ranger had experienced this with fellow servicemen in the throws of a PTSD episode.

"That's why I'm here," he assured Raylan and his tone was we do this all the time, nothing to see here normal. "I'll go on point, you cover my six and we'll sweep the house. Just like clearing it for perps. I'll take care of the mirrors, but I need you to cover me, okay?"

He hated this weakness, this fear he couldn't shake or break at the root like he had everything else. He was slowly recognizing what this was, but it hadn't settled in his head yet. Raylan had done very well to avoid mirrors since he got back from the forest, in a blur that eventually found him sat in his chair at 1306.

Running away from fear was also not generally in his repertoire and Mathis hadn't pushed him to a point where he picked it up quite yet, so Tim's assurances were taken with a thick swallow and a shallow nod and the deep, deep desire to have his gun on his hip again. Not that it would help. There were monsters here who were not men and did not bleed. That was outside his forte.

Raylan nodded again with a shaky breath. "Okay. Yeah. Okay." I trust you.

"Okay," Tim confirmed, giving Raylan's elbow a squeeze and if his fingers lingered a little as he drew them along the older man's lower back, off his hip? Well so be it.

The sniper moved forward, thinking to keep them moving to try to keep Raylan from having time to overthink and panic himself all over again. He didn't know how the older man felt, but Tim always had to battle with the anxiety of waiting. Once he was in motion, everything came into focus.

Using a crabwalk approach, which allowed him to keep an eye on Raylan as well as the house, Tim lead them up the porch. He glanced back at his partner, giving him a nod, then took the door with the same skillful confidence as he would back home.

Usually his eyes were looking for movement signalling a perp. It took Tim a half beat to remind himself that he was after mirror and any obvious reflective surfaces. Just to be on the safe side. In typical Gutterson style, there was no fuss. Anything that could reflect an image back on Raylan was efficiently taken down and spun to face the wall, the Ranger using his body as a shield between Raylan and the mirrored surface.

Tim lead the way, clearing one room, then the next and the next always checking back to make sure Raylan was still with him. As soon as they had the lower level cleared, he tried to lead the older man towards one of the more comfortable sofas.

"Sit here while I get these things stuffed in a closet," so there was no risk of one of them tipping over and becoming a problem. "Do you want me to clear upstairs?" Tim wasn't keen on getting that far away from his partner, even leaving Raylan alone long enough to shove shit in a closet made Tim feel twitchy.

Edited 2021-07-25 15:50 (UTC)

One of Raylan's hands moved across to touch Tim briefly in return, a passing anchoring point before the sniper took the lead. It helped that it was habit to fall in line behind someone - Just clearing the house - and Raylan did so with another uneven breath.

They paused on the porch and Raylan nodded back, and followed him in a few steps behind. It felt wrong to do this without a gun or a bat or something, creeping around corners like his reflection or something worse was going to eat them. It felt wrong to be doing it at all but the vicegrip around his chest argued that point quite loudly.

Raylan wasn't sure what he would have done if it weren't for Tim's thoroughness, even if he had posted up in the other house. He was grateful for the smaller man's swift actions, taking what would reflect back down and off the walls. It was only once they'd cleared the level that he breathed a little easier, the stressed flexing of his hands eased a bit.

He'd stand, but he'd stand mostly in the area directed, however fidgety he remained. "Yeah. Sorry to ask it. If you could, I'd.." Feel better. "Meantime, I'm gonna.. find a bottle of 'shine, just.. something to take the edge off."

Moonshine sounded like a great idea and Tim nodded, without thoroughly thinking this through.

"Sure," he agreed, already starting a mental list of where he needed to pull stuff down upstairs, intending to make quick work of it. Something was niggling just off in the peripheral of his conscious thoughts, but he couldn't quite nail it down and in his urge to get the house secure for Raylan, he ignored it.

"I'll be right back," he promised, touching Raylan's shoulder briefly, as much for himself as for the older man, before moving off to head upstairs.

Raylan nodded, worrying his ring again as Tim darted off upstairs and glanced around the house with an uneasy look. Jeff and Athena would be home at some point. No doubt they'd notice. Maybe they wouldn't, maybe he could avoi- Yeah right.

Wringing his hands together, Raylan headed into the kitchen and dug around under a counter. No shine. He moved onto another one and another one, leaving doors open in his wake until he found the last two bottles stashed away.

"I'm gonna havta refill," he muttered to himself as he sunk back onto the floor and popped the cork off, leaning his long and tired limbs against the wood as he stared at the ceiling and listened to the scratching that he wasn't sure was really there. The echoes of everything they'd all been hearing over the last few nights never really left him in the daytime, or at least, it wasn't today.

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