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ph_logs2024-08-15 06:22 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-15 06:22 pm
[ August Event ] Thatcher's Blight
**Plain text version here.
› Incubation is extremely short, and the virus begins manifesting symptoms quickly after initial infection, sometimes as soon as a mere two hours after contact. Patients experience strong flu-like symptoms, including exhaustion, nausea, fever, running nose, sore throat, cough, increased heart-rate, difficulty breathing, and mild delirium. A patient will become truly infectious when a fever forms, and will need to be handled with caution in this event. Infection from a patient in Stage 1 is not impossible, but notably lower than the later stages of infection.
› Characterized by severely increasing symptoms as patients' bodies attempt to fight off the disease. Flu-like symptoms worsen, and any suffering the illness who were not bedridden will often become so. Confusion worsens severely; completely lucid patients will lose track of where they are, or who they are with. Emotional dysregulation begins, and short-term memory starts to degrade. Infection from a patient in Stage 2 is not impossible, and is increased from the low rates of Stage 1, but is also notably lower than the later stages of infection.
› So named due to a return of many of the patients' physical faculties, such as standing and walking without issue, but cold-like symptoms continue. Patients' short-term memory continues to degrade and general confusion remains severe, and many will enter a so-called "time loop" of their day-to-day actions: whatever action they were taking before the "loop" begins, they will repeat. If someone goes to the grocery store, they will pay, take groceries home, drop them, and return to do so again. Phone-calls will be made again, and repeat beat-for-beat.
Addressing the "loop" will often cause a patient to regain some lucidity, but they will often fall back into doing so once more if left to their own devices. As the False Decline moves into the next stage, patients will begin to experience sharp, often unprovoked bursts of rage, or a persistent level of frustration.
› Most often observed in carnivores and omnivorous species, as many herbivores/prey animals will simply attempt to run, hide, or collect with their herd (which frequently performs the same function). Notably, this stage for animals lasts a distinctly short amount of time, and transfer rates between animals are remarkably low compared to humanoid infection - the reason for this is unknown.
Patients seemingly succumb to a deep rage and attack any moving object in sight, track sources of sounds, and occasionally begin lashing out at inanimate objects. Dexterity is reduced sharply; patients with hands will no longer be able to grip doorknobs or use intricate tools.
No regard for physical well-being is maintained, and patients will undergo grievous injury to attempt their attacks. Attacks are never made with intention to kill, though fatality from wounds is possible; the intention of the "Propagation" period is to spread the virus as widely and quickly as possible. If one target is too difficult to reach, it will easily be abandoned in favor of an easier one.
Cognitive functions are scarce beyond seeing and hearing - however, "word salad" often comes from patients capable of speech, frequently containing thoughts or spoken words from their final moments of lucidity.
› After the previous stage's "last push" is complete, patients' bodies begin to shut down. The body succumbs to the virus, leaving the afflicted catatonic and immobilized. In a final attempt to use the host's body to further spread the virus, however, it will use one last strategy: reaching out to the kindness of others.
The patient, despite no longer seeming physically aware of their inability to move, will call for help, plea to anyone they can see, or weep. Any contact with fluids by those attempting to assist will often result in immediate infection.
At the end of his account comes the worst of the news: Mr. Thatcher did not discover a cure for the blight that claimed his hometown. When the Royal Guard arrived to provide assistance, there was little town left; what was left aside was felled to prevent the spread from moving any further.
If you believe you are close to acquiring said information, reach out to a mod! If you are correct, you will receive a little digital info card. If not, you will get a clue.
There is a bit of a time buffer between the event’s beginning and when a vaccine can be developed, so use that time to work on this. It’s best if teams work on this simultaneously!
For a successful trial of the vaccine, a group of participating medical staff must collectively roll at least a sum of 40. Anything lower and the trial fails, and the test subject contracts the Blight as normal. (This means, for ease's sake, if one character rolls an 18, another character can roll a 12, and a third rolls a 10, that third vaccine trial will succeed!) To try again, they must acquire a new volunteer.
Up to 4 people with appropriate medical knowledge can roll per trial, and these are added the same as any separate trials towards that collective 40. Threads with non-medical people assisting medical staff can allow that character to roll at advantage (ex. if Watson and Mulcahy have a thread together, for all trials going forward, Watson can roll 2 dice and submit the higher roll).
The vaccine is cleared for use after 3 successful trials, and is able to be distributed to the rest of the town from there!
But then, late into the second day, the looping starts. Infected people begin repeating tasks, such as doing the same chores over and over, visiting the same stores and purchasing the same items, and making laps around a specific area for hours. While the infected still seem more lucid, they can’t recall their previous “loops” and will get agitated and even violent if pulled away from their activities. Their loved ones and neighbors will also find them still very contagious.
And by the 48 hour mark, the bloodshed begins in earnest.
Lockdowns begin swiftly, with the uninfected hunkering down in clinics and easily defendable communal buildings. The most viable shelters are Town Hall or Greymare Library for Downtown Hollow residents, and Prague Mill or Baker Ranch for Northwest Hollowites and those who live on the Bluffs. Leeds Estate is also quite defensible, but it appears that Dahlia shut up her doors and windows well in advance. Those who try to shelter in their homes find that luck is not with them.
However, these locations don’t have the means to maintain a population on their own. Supply runs for medical items and food will need to be organized. Who will brave the danger?
Additionally, each shelter is advised to keep a radio available. The radio tower built adjacent to Town Hall is running as often as possible thanks to Phil Connors and Cecil Palmer. A small militia has been formed by Gerry Keay to keep the radio tower defended at all costs, and he’s happy to recruit more help. Sending stones still function for communication, so it’s best to stay in touch and work together while the medical team develops a cure.
Despite his general haziness, the moment he sees the needle, he will flee as quickly and as violently as possible. Give chase! Even with the vaccine protecting the islanders, it’s not safe to let this suspicious superspreader go on as-is. And once the island’s strange visitor is soundly subdued, all that remains is to vaccinate the townsfolk and quarantine the remaining unwell animals until the disease runs its course before Thatcher’s Blight is safely behind you.
Although you may want to give everything you own a good scrubbing, just to be safe.
THATCHER'S BLIGHT
FLU SEASON
CONTENT WARNINGS: Pandemic/quarantine, exaggerated rabies allegory, loss of faculties, medical, unsanitary, extreme violence, mental degradation and dementia-like symptoms, zombie-like behavior, guaranteed death.
-
The day that the plague comes to Marrow Isle has all the makings of a very peaceful day on the island. Incidents of Dirt Men and dragon sightings have been minimal, the crabs are in the process of receding back into the sea, and the weather has been lovely. Warm with a crisp breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The heat of summer is beginning to peter out and the smell of autumn begins to waft in the breeze, thoughts turning to apple harvests and colored leaves. It should have been a lovely day.
But let’s be honest, that’s always the first sign of trouble, isn’t it?
The market in town bustles as usual when a stranger walks into town. This isn’t inherently strange. New people arrive all the time, after all. What makes this particular incident strange is the fact that the unusual man enters from the wrong side of the island, seeming to come from the mountain rather than the shore. His features are strange, elongated uncannily and darkened in peculiar places as if being lit from directly above by a spotlight in a dark room. He is smiling broadly, his eyes bright but glassy, and he walks with a bit of a stagger as he tours every single shop and booth in the marketplace. He laughs loudly, touches everything he can, puts his hands on every person who will allow him, and lets out a rattling cough at random intervals. Sometimes the cough comes with blood. And if you ask him if he’s alright, he’ll laugh heartily and answer, “Oh, I’m fine, I just haven’t been feeling so well.”
When the man is detained and taken to a clinic, he goes without complaint, telling jokes the whole way and following any orders or requests with genial compliance. He’s hazy, but well-mannered and friendly. Any questions for the stranger, however, are met only with peals of near-drunken giggles, with only two exceptions. When asked what he is sick with, he will readily answer that he has something called “Thatcher’s Blight.” And when asked for his name, he will answer, “Patient Zero.” But by the time this information is passed to the radio and newspaper, people are already beginning to cough.
-
The day that the plague comes to Marrow Isle has all the makings of a very peaceful day on the island. Incidents of Dirt Men and dragon sightings have been minimal, the crabs are in the process of receding back into the sea, and the weather has been lovely. Warm with a crisp breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The heat of summer is beginning to peter out and the smell of autumn begins to waft in the breeze, thoughts turning to apple harvests and colored leaves. It should have been a lovely day.
But let’s be honest, that’s always the first sign of trouble, isn’t it?
The market in town bustles as usual when a stranger walks into town. This isn’t inherently strange. New people arrive all the time, after all. What makes this particular incident strange is the fact that the unusual man enters from the wrong side of the island, seeming to come from the mountain rather than the shore. His features are strange, elongated uncannily and darkened in peculiar places as if being lit from directly above by a spotlight in a dark room. He is smiling broadly, his eyes bright but glassy, and he walks with a bit of a stagger as he tours every single shop and booth in the marketplace. He laughs loudly, touches everything he can, puts his hands on every person who will allow him, and lets out a rattling cough at random intervals. Sometimes the cough comes with blood. And if you ask him if he’s alright, he’ll laugh heartily and answer, “Oh, I’m fine, I just haven’t been feeling so well.”
When the man is detained and taken to a clinic, he goes without complaint, telling jokes the whole way and following any orders or requests with genial compliance. He’s hazy, but well-mannered and friendly. Any questions for the stranger, however, are met only with peals of near-drunken giggles, with only two exceptions. When asked what he is sick with, he will readily answer that he has something called “Thatcher’s Blight.” And when asked for his name, he will answer, “Patient Zero.” But by the time this information is passed to the radio and newspaper, people are already beginning to cough.
VIROLOGY
PROGNOSIS
Thatcher’s Blight is a viral infection that is transmitted primarily through body fluids, but it can also become airborne and will stick to surfaces that are not cleaned thoroughly. The onset is fast and aggressive, and the diagnosis is always deadly. At least until a cure is found. Thankfully, Pumpkin Hollow is staffed with medical professionals from all throughout time, whose job it will be to research the disease and create a vaccine. Below is a thorough overview of all of the details you’ll need OOCly, but ICly these things should be figured out organically.Stage 1. Incubation + Initial Infection [ 2-6 HOURS ]
› Incubation is extremely short, and the virus begins manifesting symptoms quickly after initial infection, sometimes as soon as a mere two hours after contact. Patients experience strong flu-like symptoms, including exhaustion, nausea, fever, running nose, sore throat, cough, increased heart-rate, difficulty breathing, and mild delirium. A patient will become truly infectious when a fever forms, and will need to be handled with caution in this event. Infection from a patient in Stage 1 is not impossible, but notably lower than the later stages of infection.
Stage 2. Prodromal [ 16-24 HOURS ]
› Characterized by severely increasing symptoms as patients' bodies attempt to fight off the disease. Flu-like symptoms worsen, and any suffering the illness who were not bedridden will often become so. Confusion worsens severely; completely lucid patients will lose track of where they are, or who they are with. Emotional dysregulation begins, and short-term memory starts to degrade. Infection from a patient in Stage 2 is not impossible, and is increased from the low rates of Stage 1, but is also notably lower than the later stages of infection.
Stage 3. "Amnesiac's Recovery" / False Decline [ 30-38 HOURS ]
› So named due to a return of many of the patients' physical faculties, such as standing and walking without issue, but cold-like symptoms continue. Patients' short-term memory continues to degrade and general confusion remains severe, and many will enter a so-called "time loop" of their day-to-day actions: whatever action they were taking before the "loop" begins, they will repeat. If someone goes to the grocery store, they will pay, take groceries home, drop them, and return to do so again. Phone-calls will be made again, and repeat beat-for-beat.
Addressing the "loop" will often cause a patient to regain some lucidity, but they will often fall back into doing so once more if left to their own devices. As the False Decline moves into the next stage, patients will begin to experience sharp, often unprovoked bursts of rage, or a persistent level of frustration.
Stage 4. "Propagation" / Furious Form [ 40 - 52 HOURS ]
› Most often observed in carnivores and omnivorous species, as many herbivores/prey animals will simply attempt to run, hide, or collect with their herd (which frequently performs the same function). Notably, this stage for animals lasts a distinctly short amount of time, and transfer rates between animals are remarkably low compared to humanoid infection - the reason for this is unknown.
Patients seemingly succumb to a deep rage and attack any moving object in sight, track sources of sounds, and occasionally begin lashing out at inanimate objects. Dexterity is reduced sharply; patients with hands will no longer be able to grip doorknobs or use intricate tools.
No regard for physical well-being is maintained, and patients will undergo grievous injury to attempt their attacks. Attacks are never made with intention to kill, though fatality from wounds is possible; the intention of the "Propagation" period is to spread the virus as widely and quickly as possible. If one target is too difficult to reach, it will easily be abandoned in favor of an easier one.
Cognitive functions are scarce beyond seeing and hearing - however, "word salad" often comes from patients capable of speech, frequently containing thoughts or spoken words from their final moments of lucidity.
Stage 5. "Last Ditch Effort" / Paralytic Form [ 62 - 70 HOURS ]
› After the previous stage's "last push" is complete, patients' bodies begin to shut down. The body succumbs to the virus, leaving the afflicted catatonic and immobilized. In a final attempt to use the host's body to further spread the virus, however, it will use one last strategy: reaching out to the kindness of others.
The patient, despite no longer seeming physically aware of their inability to move, will call for help, plea to anyone they can see, or weep. Any contact with fluids by those attempting to assist will often result in immediate infection.
At the end of his account comes the worst of the news: Mr. Thatcher did not discover a cure for the blight that claimed his hometown. When the Royal Guard arrived to provide assistance, there was little town left; what was left aside was felled to prevent the spread from moving any further.
RESEARCH BEGINS
The first step of defeating the plague will be doing background research. Pair up with a research buddy and start looking into the history of Thatcher’s Blight. We will need threads where people locate the following information:- The original medical records from physicians in Grier’s Glen regarding Thatcher’s Blight. (The info contained therein can be found OOCly in the “Prognosis” section, but finding it ICly will be important! Plus there’s a lil bonus info there.)
- The identity of Patient Zero.
- What Patient Zero is, exactly.
If you believe you are close to acquiring said information, reach out to a mod! If you are correct, you will receive a little digital info card. If not, you will get a clue.
There is a bit of a time buffer between the event’s beginning and when a vaccine can be developed, so use that time to work on this. It’s best if teams work on this simultaneously!
DEVELOPING THE VACCINE
This portion of the event, though being narrative, has a mechanical function as well! Thatcher's Blight cannot be cured before 8/18 (which will be a full course of the illness in the earliest townsfolk who contracted it). We will be asking for characters in the medical professions to be rolling a d20.For a successful trial of the vaccine, a group of participating medical staff must collectively roll at least a sum of 40. Anything lower and the trial fails, and the test subject contracts the Blight as normal. (This means, for ease's sake, if one character rolls an 18, another character can roll a 12, and a third rolls a 10, that third vaccine trial will succeed!) To try again, they must acquire a new volunteer.
Up to 4 people with appropriate medical knowledge can roll per trial, and these are added the same as any separate trials towards that collective 40. Threads with non-medical people assisting medical staff can allow that character to roll at advantage (ex. if Watson and Mulcahy have a thread together, for all trials going forward, Watson can roll 2 dice and submit the higher roll).
The vaccine is cleared for use after 3 successful trials, and is able to be distributed to the rest of the town from there!
VIOLENT OUTBREAK
SOMETHING IN THE AIR
The first day is a tense sort of quiet. Every cough or sneeze is fussed over, and everyone in town seems to be holding their breath. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Pumpkin Hollow’s fantastical problems have always been bad, so no one’s under any illusions that this will be a walk in the park, but there’s always those same early whispers whenever a new horror rears its head. What are we in for this time? How bad will it get? But even as anxiety hangs in the air for the entirety of that first day, even as the flu-like symptoms take hold in seemingly record time and people’s minds grow hazy, there is an uneasy peace that the uninformed might even mistake for things being not so bad. Some victims are even beginning to look better after some rest.But then, late into the second day, the looping starts. Infected people begin repeating tasks, such as doing the same chores over and over, visiting the same stores and purchasing the same items, and making laps around a specific area for hours. While the infected still seem more lucid, they can’t recall their previous “loops” and will get agitated and even violent if pulled away from their activities. Their loved ones and neighbors will also find them still very contagious.
And by the 48 hour mark, the bloodshed begins in earnest.
QUARANTINE CHAOS
The most jarring part of all of this is how quickly the situation devolves from tentative worry into screaming chaos as the third day dawns. The infected begin to rise from their slumber to lay waste to their neighbors, attacking with abrupt and unprovoked violence, breaking into homes and jumping people in the streets. They break skin, break bones, but they do not kill--- at least, not on purpose. At the sight of blood, they immediately abandon their quarry, because killing was never the point. The disease does not want to kill. It wants to spread.Lockdowns begin swiftly, with the uninfected hunkering down in clinics and easily defendable communal buildings. The most viable shelters are Town Hall or Greymare Library for Downtown Hollow residents, and Prague Mill or Baker Ranch for Northwest Hollowites and those who live on the Bluffs. Leeds Estate is also quite defensible, but it appears that Dahlia shut up her doors and windows well in advance. Those who try to shelter in their homes find that luck is not with them.
However, these locations don’t have the means to maintain a population on their own. Supply runs for medical items and food will need to be organized. Who will brave the danger?
Additionally, each shelter is advised to keep a radio available. The radio tower built adjacent to Town Hall is running as often as possible thanks to Phil Connors and Cecil Palmer. A small militia has been formed by Gerry Keay to keep the radio tower defended at all costs, and he’s happy to recruit more help. Sending stones still function for communication, so it’s best to stay in touch and work together while the medical team develops a cure.
VAXXED UP [ CONCLUSION ]
When the research is done and the trials succeed, all it takes is a little more time and a few more materials to produce enough vaccinations for the whole town. And surely someone will set their sights, and their syringe, on Patient Zero.Despite his general haziness, the moment he sees the needle, he will flee as quickly and as violently as possible. Give chase! Even with the vaccine protecting the islanders, it’s not safe to let this suspicious superspreader go on as-is. And once the island’s strange visitor is soundly subdued, all that remains is to vaccinate the townsfolk and quarantine the remaining unwell animals until the disease runs its course before Thatcher’s Blight is safely behind you.
Although you may want to give everything you own a good scrubbing, just to be safe.
SHELTER IN PLACE (OPT OUT)
Prefer to opt-out? No worries. As soon as Patient Zero arrives, Dahlia begins contacting as many people as she can confirm are healthy under the guise of a “meeting”, providing somewhere safe and comfortable to stay until all this blows over. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to do there.
No, she’s not accepting recommendations, requests, or demands for who is allowed to come in. No, she’s not explaining why. No, your relationships with her or others don’t have any bearing either. She is choosing apparently at random--- although, those who know her well might be able to guess that her senses are keen enough to tell her who has been infected, and who has not. If you say no, she will not push, but you get the impression that you probably should not refuse, based on Dahlia’s serious demeanor.
By the end of day one, Dahlia’s gates are locked, and her doors and windows barricaded. Only then does she explain--- including the caveat that the doors will not open, come hell or high water, until the trouble is confirmed to have passed. No one in, no one out, no exceptions.
At some point in the week and change that the plague darkens Pumpkin Hollow’s collective doorstep, Miles Upshur disappears from the manor for a day, evidently snatched up by something or someone he couldn’t see in the middle of the night. Blessedly, he resurrects inside the building, but now there is a new worry--- who, or what, killed Miles? The boredom is swiftly replaced by a whodunnit mystery, but is that better or worse?
SLUMBER PARTY
Word of the afflicted stranger wandering the town hasn’t even reached every ear before Dahlia begins approaching people and insisting they come up to her mansion. She doesn’t use sending stones or even the phone to issue these invites. She simply walks up to you, whether she knows you or not, eyes you suspiciously for a moment, and then informs you that your presence is needed at her estate as soon as possible. “Bring your essentials,” she says vaguely. “And don’t touch anything outside your house until you get to the manor.”No, she’s not accepting recommendations, requests, or demands for who is allowed to come in. No, she’s not explaining why. No, your relationships with her or others don’t have any bearing either. She is choosing apparently at random--- although, those who know her well might be able to guess that her senses are keen enough to tell her who has been infected, and who has not. If you say no, she will not push, but you get the impression that you probably should not refuse, based on Dahlia’s serious demeanor.
By the end of day one, Dahlia’s gates are locked, and her doors and windows barricaded. Only then does she explain--- including the caveat that the doors will not open, come hell or high water, until the trouble is confirmed to have passed. No one in, no one out, no exceptions.
MURDER MYSTERY MANSION
As the days drag on, the waiting grows dull. Not the sort of dreary dullness of calm days spent whiling away the hours, but that sort of anxious boredom characterized by helpless dread. Loved ones are worried after. Attacks at the gates grow more frequent, and louder. Thankfully rations seem plentiful enough in the house of the wealthy heiress, but some of the things dwelling here need to eat things other than what can be found in the cupboard. And it can only be delayed so long.At some point in the week and change that the plague darkens Pumpkin Hollow’s collective doorstep, Miles Upshur disappears from the manor for a day, evidently snatched up by something or someone he couldn’t see in the middle of the night. Blessedly, he resurrects inside the building, but now there is a new worry--- who, or what, killed Miles? The boredom is swiftly replaced by a whodunnit mystery, but is that better or worse?
For the sake of the timeline not conflicting with House Calls, this will resolve itself within the span of one full week, likely coming to full conclusion by the 23rd. Backtagging is always welcome and encouraged, however!
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He takes a glance back to his corpse, not yet vanished from the prying, worried eyes within the mill. It's only a fleeting look - he averts his gaze just as quickly as he starts it.
Neil had every right and every reason to do what he did, but that doesn't make Jon want to get away from here any less quickly.
"I think... I think I need a walk." A beat. "...Care to join me? I'll--- understand if not. I won't be offended if you need time to, ah. Process. The first one is always... a lot."
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Martin's eyes are avoiding his own corpse as well, laying a few paces behind Jon's in a horrible, pallid, bloody, filthy heap. It will vanish once curious eyes leave it behind, but the indignity of it is too much. What a miserable, pathetic end.
"...Yeah, let's take a walk. Lead the way?"
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He does lead the way, though, back up the sloping hills towards the Bluffs.
Tempting as it might be to go to the docks, he doesn't want to cross paths with the afflicted. It's not even out of fear now, so far outside of their reach; it's difficult to see. Granted that it's not occupied, his cliff-side perch seems like an adequate place to rest and process. But for now, the walk is leisurely and slow, if not a bit stiff.
"...Are you okay, by the way? I mean, I'm sure you're not--- okay, but... you know."
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At the question, Martin sighs. "I'm--- fine. As fine as I can be. I'm dead."
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"Right there with you on that one."
He swallows, a bit rough. A moment of silence hangs before he speaks again; it isn't comfortable, but it isn't exactly tense, either.
"...Martin, can I ask you something?"
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"You had been... saying some things, when the illness was finally beginning to shut you down completely," Jon starts, quieter. Even if you're talking to the guy at this very moment, addressing someone's last words always feels a bit solemn. "Do you remember any of it?"
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He's taking great lengths to keep himself measured, as well. He wants to press on particular parts that are still gnawing at him, but he doesn't. Not yet. He isn't sure if he's of a strong enough will to crack open everything that lies beneath all that, not yet.
"...What did you want to ask me?"
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"You were calling for me," He answers, vague. "You couldn't see me, and I'm... not sure that you could hear me all that well, either. You needed me, and to--- not be alone, and I couldn't let you be. Wouldn't let you be. I understood the cost."
Even without the aid of the Eye's knowledge, it's not hard to see that he's only skimmed the surface of it, so much more lying just below.
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When he speaks again, it's as firm as it is desperate.
"I don't want you to be alone, Martin. And even if you had been able to tell me to stay away, I wouldn't have wanted you to be alone. I did what I could, at the costs I did, because I wanted to."
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Jon's voice raises with urgency, making the silence that falls after crash down upon them with an immense weight. Were they back to their physical bodies, his heart surely would have hammered in his chest, and he might've even felt sick. There's a million things he could say to try to pull this back, but any he tries to reach for slip through his reach as his mind reels over what he's done.
Guilt, terror, and regret threaten to eat him alive, but he can't manage to do do anything to dig himself out of it. His mind begs him to do so many things, all too many things to try to mend this, that he's frozen.
What a horrible misstep. What a horrible, careless way to destroy the starts of the new lives the both of them had built.
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"...Yes, I--- I do."
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More than anything, he wants to tell Jon that he feels the same. I love you, too, Jon. But the words don't come. Not because he doesn't feel them, but because no words come.
What comes instead are years of memories, crashing down like a dilapidated roof.
"Oh--- oh. You're J-Jonathan Sims, I--- Mr. Bouchard said I'd be working for you."
God. He's terrifying. How can anyone with a face that beautiful be so scary? Maybe that's part of why.
...I shouldn't be thinking about my boss like that, he's already threatening to fire me as it is.
"You’re sure about all of this, Martin?"
"Look, I’m not going to lie to you about something like this, Jon. I… like my job. Most of the time."
"Very well. In that case, there’s a room in the Archives I use to sleep when working late. I suggest you stay there for now. I’ll talk to Elias about whether we can get extra security, but the Archives have enough locks for now. It’s also supposed to be humidity controlled and, though it hasn’t been working for some time, it does mean it’s well-sealed. Nothing will be sneaking through any window cracks."
"Okay… thanks. To be honest I didn’t, didn’t expect you… to take it seriously."
He believes me. Jon never believes...anyone about these things.
And he's actually trying to protect me. I don't think... I don't think anyone's ever
done that for me before. Jon is kinder than he lets on, isn't he?
"...I also wanted you to try and track down a Mr. Marcus McKenzie. His father gave a statement in 2003; I’m trying to follow up. Bit worried about this one."
"What, you? The – The father of all skepticism, worried?"
"Just because I don’t think it happened doesn’t mean I can’t be worried. ...Are you alright?"
"What?"
"Down here, I mean. After everything, but out of house and home; it’s not exactly five-star accommodations."
"Oh, heh. You don’t need to worry about me."
"I believe I’ve made my case for being entitled to worry, Martin."
Ugh, Tim's right. I've got it bad.
"...Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens."
"Well… thank you."
I'm just glad you're okay.
A hundred more memories, a hundred more thoughts, a rush of feelings--- excitement, anxiety, desire, affection, frustration, longing, hope, anguish, joy, relief, fear, regret, resolve, grief, love.
Love, love, love.
But as Martin opens his mouth to speak, all he can do is let out a ragged croak, his hands rising to ball up in his shirt over his heart, and he just starts sobbing.
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Right now, though, he doesn't need to know.
All he needs to know is how to move across those meager few steps, how to move those long arms of his, none of the grace or reluctance of his day-to-day to be found in their movements, and how to move them to Martin's shoulders.
He isn't often trying to navigate being shorter than the people he encounters, and he's even less often prone to hugging. Yet, here he is now, doing both with a spring-loaded step at Martin's first sob, looping his arms around his shoulders and holding him as tightly as he's able to manage.
Anything else he needs to know to unwind this mess of a situation, he can know it later; in this very moment, the embrace is the only thing that he needs.
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"I love you. I love you."
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But, above all else, he is so terribly, gut-wrenchingly happy.
No words are able to be mustered, try as he might. How could anyone manage to say anything, so moved to the core, after the day that they've had? There's volumes enough that come from his hold tightening that slightest bit further at each word, the settling of his chin and contentedness to say so close, and even the small shaking of his shoulders on every short, shuddering breath.
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"We should---" Go sit? Why? They're ghosts, it's not like he can get tired. But some part of him feels like he needs to anyway. "Can we go to your house?"
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It's difficult to finally fully pull away, but he does so at last. That doesn't stop his pace from being just a bit faster than it really ought to be.
After some debacle at the front door (attempting to open it, failing to actually touch it, adjusting awkwardly), Jon leads Martin inside. In it's state of wreckage, with Jon's bedroom door having been broken down by his furious, plague-addled attempts to get to the other side of it, and objects and furniture toppled in the subsequent struggle, it almost looks abandoned. It's hard to stare at for too long, but his couch, upright and largely together, sits towards the furthest wall of his room.
He takes a seat, and gently pats the spot beside him for Martin to join, offering a small, awkward smile.
"Almost tried to offer you tea out of habit, but, you know. I guess we'll have to mark that down as an extra for later...?"
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Wanna wrap here and do their next thread after the plague?
that's a wrap!!