EVENT ★ A-LICKY BOOM BOOM DOWN

[futurologists]

WELCOME TO WOODHURST Arrival in Woodhurst goes largely unnoticed by its occupants. Characters will find themselves scattered into the city in inconspicuous places: stepping out of public restrooms that were previously empty, in the middle of a revolving door, appearing from overlooked service doorways and unoccupied retail break rooms. Arrivals -- with cloaking devices already active for those who need them -- will get barely a second look. ALASTAIR researchers and networkers will have already secured housing -- whether that be a motel, apartment, home, etc. -- for Team Audentes as well as credentials for those whose jobs require them, but it is up to the team themselves to weave together their various cover stories and find their way to their new jobs. Luckily, most of the citizens of Woodhurst have more on their mind than usual, and won't be too interested in their new neighbors and coworkers. WEEK 1 There's been a sickness spreading lately. Everyone has noticed it. People sometimes pause to murmur together in worried, furtive tones, the one of them with a cough looking especially distressed. Largely, though, people are doing their best to keep up life as normal. This concerning turn of events will probably blow over just fine, and rent still needs to be paid. Still, little signs here and there (the grocery stores are having trouble keeping bottled water and non perishables in stock) speak to the unease that can be felt in the city. Audentes has about a week to get comfortable. Snow falls now and then, never too much, but somehow always just enough to delay the buses of the public transit system. Historic downtown Woodhurst is picturesque in the light wintery sprinkle, and sometimes the buses even make their schedules there. Things are a little quiet in the business district, as many have opted to work from home until this all sorts itself out. The housing and suburban areas have a little more of a buzz of activity than usual; neighbors talk to each other for the first time in months to see if there's any news or updates, friends check in and visit with one another. Signs of any actual infected are rare, to the point where it may be easy to forget that's why ALASTAIR is here. But if you're lucky (?), you may run into someone staggering down a snowy street who doesn't look very well. They could just be hungover, but what's with those dark, prominent veins on their face...? Seven days into their stay in town, things suddenly pick up. WEEK 2 Woodhurst is quarantined. Local TV and radio stations broadcast nothing but this fact and follow up information for a solid 24 hours. And if TV and radio isn't your bag, it's also broadcast over loud speakers for 8 hours straight during the first day. The news of it is impossible to miss, but the gist of it is simple: no one may enter or leave Woodhurst, and all citizens must be off the streets by 10 PM. Also impossible to miss are the blockades and barricades that have suddenly and swiftly been set up at every road leading out of Woodhurst, no matter how major or minor. They are guarded by military in dark uniforms, visibly armed. Local law enforcement is called in to help, and any Audentes members posing as police officers may find themselves face-to-face with angry, terrified citizens as they take their frustrations out. Panic spikes. Some stores, usually grocery stores, report looting, and one or two riots even break out near the barricades. The military seems to have been instructed to stop people non-lethally, but will use violence in turn if it is used against them. They do not answer any questions put to them by citizens wanting to get to their families on the other side of the border and demanding to know why they can't, and keep their expressions carefully neutral. Still, not everyone is peaceable about it -- a terrified, haggard-looking mother tightly grips her screaming child's hand as she argues with a policeman. Her older son is apparently in Wakefield, and she needs to get to him immediately. Her shouting and her child's wailing is starting to agitate the crowd and the other policeman alike, a noticeable tension rising in the air. The hospitals experience a sharp uptick in activity, admitting those who were hurt in the first initial panicky rushes and serving many who fretfully complain of the symptoms of the spreading sickness. Even those with nothing more than the common cold have rushed in, not wanting to listen when the hospital staff explains to them that the symptoms are nothing alike. For the most part, Woodhurst doesn't look infected. Tempers are flaring, but that seems natural considering the circumstances. Even the fights that break out can be chalked up to scared citizens vying for the limited resources within the quarantined area. Once in a while, erratic behavior can be spotted, though. A man runs down the street at top speeds with nothing pursuing him, his eyes wide and wild, only to vanish down a side street. A thrashing woman at the hospital is sedated and restrained, and the sounds she's making don't sound like words as she's wheeled quickly away. On the evening of the first day, the mayor makes a statement on behalf of the city, urging citizens not to panic. She claims they have everything under control, that life can continue as normal save for a few restrictions, and that the quarantine is simply a precaution. Of course, various news outlets have taken the story and run with it, looking for the scoop. A few conspiracy theorists even try to spread their thoughts, handing out nonsensical pamphlets on the street and frightening people who are uneducated on the Bristol virus. Woodhurst is doing its best, though. After the first two days of initial panic after the quarantine descends, its sturdy citizens make a noble attempt to continue life as usual. About 25% of the population stays indoors, but the other 75% of it can still be seen going about their business, most of them with the concession of flu masks (or bandanas, t-shirts, or whatever else is on hand; supplies are tough to come by sometimes). The situation isn't great, but life marches on. And, after all, surely things will blow over sooner or later. OOC NOTES Welcome to the new mission! Infection sign-ups are now closed for current players, but all characters accepted after January 28th will still have the opportunity to sign up. The offical locations page is now up. Please read it carefully! Some locations had to be tweaked to properly fit the setting. The Bounty Board will be available with the next log. Keep an eye out! REMINDER: The infected population are not undead! We have used "zombie" as a shorthand description on the calendar, but please keep in mind that infected persons are alive, just sick. For more information on the mission, please check the dossier and the January/February calendars. Since this log is coming up so late in the month, threads from this log can be used for either January or February AC, with the stipulation that you still cannot use the same thread for both months. Questions about Woodhurst can be submitted to this thread. Questions about the game in general should be directed to the FAQ. You may submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Comments

EMMA ♕

[dishearten]

( technically, he's shared a space with Emma before. and not even as long back as Chantes, where he was forced to use her room as a hideout on occasion. something this Emma doesn't even remember, but it'd gained him a familiarity with her presence that made the future instances easier. they'd slept next to each other most nights on Zeta-12, shared a tent in Perdition's Rest. they'd shared a night in Oska as well, though that really had not been quite the same, now had it? perhaps that is why things feel different now, though he's doing his utmost not to make things complicated.

a rather laughable idea. things between them will always be complicated, they were complicated far before they slept together.

he both knows how to exist around her, and yet with lines crossed and retreated it's hard to remember where they used to be. the hand he puts on the small of her back as he passes her to the other sink in the bathroom, for example — is that a familiarity he shouldn't offer now? it might have been fine when he did it earlier, when they were in the kitchen, but now he's half undressed for bed. does that change things? Emma doesn't say anything, and he sets about brushing his teeth vigilantly instead of trying to say something himself.

silence. good call. silence was always a good call. the mirror reflects the ugliness of his scar, and he frowns at it around his toothbrush. a rather ugly reminder of what could have happened, though all things considered it's healed well in the weeks since it happened. nearly months, now. )

[sheriffing]

[ does the night they spent together complicate things between them? it's not as if it's changed much. her feelings for him were always there, long before the night they ditched the group celebration for a private party. sometimes she wonders what she was thinking, agreeing to the background that they've mapped out - the one where the two of them are very much together in all the ways that don't make sense for two people whose lives are headed in different directions.

if they're honest, they don't have to put any effort into pretending to be together. their stories aren't entirely invented, they're half-truths filled with memories that aren't quite as happy as they make them out to be. it's never difficult to stretch what they've been through into something resembling a real relationship. maybe they're just getting started, but getting people to believe them hasn't been much of a challenge.

their routines match up well enough without getting in each other's way. he brushes his teeth at his sink, she washes her face at hers. the silence that drags on is noticeably awkward, unlike the touch of his hand on his way in and out of the bathroom. by the time she's pulling a brush through her hair he's leaving her to finish up on her own, and the only thing that throws her is when she walks back into the bedroom to an empty bed and a missing huntsman.]

Graham...?

[ the apartment's small enough for her to find him a moment later, settling in on the couch in the living room. she pauses in the doorway, attempting to sort out whether he's that uncomfortable or simply set on believing that she is. how long is she supposed to ignore this?] You know, I think you're actually supposed to do something to get thrown out of the bedroom when you feel like sleeping on the couch.

[dishearten]

( there's an odd discrepancy between the idea nothing had changed and the fact things should have changed. is he wrong to think that sex should have made everything between them different? not wrong, or bad, though perhaps more strained. it simply seemed to be too much to simply brush under the rug, to pretend it hadn't happened. he remembers it too clearly to pretend, finds echoes of the way she made him feel even when she's nowhere near him too easily.

then again, neither of them seem to be pretending, so much as ignoring. did it make it easier to not mention? hard to say, when it made silence gap so wide between them, and it'd been much easier to fill before.

he leaves her to finish, figuring he'll see her at least once before she goes to bed. it is simply expectation that pushes him away from the bedroom and towards the couch. the bed is her space, he doesn't intend to intrude on it. he's not unhappy to sleep on the couch, either, it just seems a lot to assume. something about the bed is rather formal, compared to the dirty ground and a cold tent floor. he's at least mildly distracted when she ghosts back into the living room. the wolf finally out of his sheep's clothing looks nearly as dog-like as he did in disguise when he's lolling about in the huntsman's lap for belly rubs.

he looks confused when she mentions he needs to get thrown out of bed before he sleeps on the couch. ) I didn't mean— Did you want to sleep here? ( that's not at all what she meant, Graham, but okay. Brother slinks off his lap and trots off toward the bedroom, and it goes without saying that leaving it empty that long means the wolves are taking it over. you should have taken your claim while you still could, Emma. )

[sheriffing]

[ it doesn't matter what they're doing, they both know what they can't do. even now, emma can't say she regrets it. she's made too many mistakes to think being with him was one of them, knows all too well what the wrong thing feels like. they were together, once, and nothing's changed because they don't have the luxury of allowing things to change. the silences are longer - heavier, sometimes, but they can't afford to get too close or put in too much distance. they have to worry about things like the mission, and the team, and the Bristol virus, and she doesn't want to leave him to face any of that without her.

in the next room, maybe, but not unless he can explain why he's so offended by the possibility of a mattress.]

I was offering you an invitation not -

[asking for one. Sunny was already on the floor by her side of the bed. with Brother excusing himself to join her, Emma is fairly certain there's not enough room on the bed for the four of them. she suspects Sunny prefers the floor, but following Brother where he's more comfortable is a thought Emma relates to at the moment. the bed's been claimed and the couch won't be the worst thing she's ever slept on.]

I thought we'd sleep in the bed.

[ we, a word she's already growing comfortable with here. she sighs, one hand pushing through a few waves of blonde to brush it back from her face. she refuses to suffer the indignity of wearing a scrunchie, especially not with the oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts that she'd picked up for the sake of fitting in.] You'd rather sleep by yourself? [She'll kick a wolf out if she has to, he shouldn't feel trapped in this when they're only getting started.]

[dishearten]

( I thought we'd sleep in the bed. such an obvious idea, and she phrases it so simply. perhaps it should have struck him without being explained, and his brow furrows as he considers it. it isn't obvious to him, to share such an intimate space, at least not without being asked. something about the bed had seemed wrong to intrude on, though that's could be ugly perceptions of someone else shadowing how he sees something different. he's never been allowed to stay without being told to stay. sharing a bed had often meant more than just sleeping, at that.

Emma isn't Regina, and he knows that. still, it seems wrong to assume himself into her bed, even if all they intended to do was sleep. an invitation, at least, is something different entirely. he wouldn't have guessed that he'd be welcome, he would likely always put himself on the outside over making the wrong assumption. it is often clearer for Graham when things are out loud, easy for him to decipher and dissect and wrap his head around. it isn't really that he is determined to sleep on the sofa, or that he especially delights in sleeping on his own. given the offer, he's more inclined to take it than not, even if he hadn't thought to make the offer himself. or, that isn't quite true — he just hadn't thought Emma had any interest in accepting.

sooner or later, he's going to have to accept the fact that Emma rarely denies an opportunity to be near him, no matter how complicated it makes things for her. sooner or later, he might even have to stop making sacrifices on her behalf, when it becomes clear that she doesn't even particularly want him to.

he knows just as well as Emma does where his brother has padded off to. he's more than capable of putting the wolf on the floor — it's possible Brother may even listen if he asked him to get down. emphasis on possible. still, the couch is comfortable enough and they're both already in the main room. he contemplates for only a moment before he offers, ) I think there'd be room for both of us. ( if she can extend an invitation, he can too. the couch isn't so bad, and they won't have to deal with a sulky wolf, either. )

[sheriffing]

[ she'd been under the assumption that it was their bed for however long this mission lasts. their bed, their "dogs", their apartment. it's their history they've embellished on in an effort to sound like two people building a life together, and their existing relationship that sells it without them having to try. she wouldn't have agreed to any of this if she thought she couldn't handle sharing a space with him, and now that they are, Emma would like to think they both have equal claim to everything.

it's more reasonable to think in that direction than it is to admit she doesn't want the distance that separate stories would have required. having him here with her means they can look out for each other while they get through this mission. they've done it before in less restrictive quarters.

that couch is going to give him less room than the bed would. she'd point it out if it wasn't too obvious to be worth a mention.] You spoil them, Graham. [the wolves. Sunny might've been on the floor a few moments ago, but with Brother curled up at the foot of the bed, it's safe to assume Sunny is stretched across the space she'd like to sleep in. Emma doesn't have to look back to know what she'd be walking into.]

Okay, we'll give it a try. [her lips quirk up in the hint of a smile, one she's afraid to commit to when it's possible that Graham is still sorting through where they stand here. it's not that their night in Oska meant any less to her than it did to him, she's thought about it plenty of times since then. she just... she needs him in her life, and this is what they can have. all they can have.]

Make yourself comfortable. [she's smaller, she'll take whatever space is left. and even then, this'll put them closer together than the bed would have. it'll be more like the last time they were in a bed together than any other, minus everything that came before sleeping. she stops to get the lights since she's closer, but after that, it's just a matter of waiting for him to settle in.]

[dishearten]

( it isn't lost on him how easy it is to fall into their "story" — there's too much there that's already established, that the rest of it isn't hard to add as embellishment. it's never been particularly difficult for Graham to call Emma his partner, it just simply carries a different connotation now. he's never been much of a liar, after all — basing their cover story on something that already existed was likely the only way he might have managed it believably without keeping up the story he's lately gotten a little tired of. the one where he is alone, and always will be.

still, he knows what parts of it aren't exactly the truth. it wouldn't be like him to push those limits, considering he knows full well they're only there for the sake of being convincing. or, it stood to reason they were, though Emma is doing a good job at scrubbing an eraser over all the lines he thought he understood. knowing where to stand is a little harder when the expectations are blended, though in the end easing their way into it and finding out where their comfort zones started and stopped was probably the best idea for both of them. )

He was alone for a very long time. It's hard not to let him have his way on occasion. ( that way would have been letting the wolf use him as a bed, if Emma hadn't wandered in and convinced Brother to relocate. as for making himself comfortable, of all things he actually has to stop and think about that. if he were sleeping alone, the answer would be different than it is sleeping with someone else. it's not something he has to consider very often, yet while she didn't ask what would be most comfortable for both of them, ultimately he wouldn't be comfortable if he didn't think she could be, too.

luckily, the hideous plaid couch their apartment came with is incredibly deep, deep enough that he can settle back on his shoulders near the edge, and still leave some real estate between himself and the back of the couch for Emma to take over. there's no getting into that space without crawling over him, and there's no existing in it without sharing some of his... but yes, he supposes this is the way they'd be most comfortable. when she hits the light his hand reaches to light on her thigh, just enough to help lead her closer in the darkness. ) You're in charge of the blanket. ( once she's found her nook, he's not likely to be able to move his arm well enough to do it himself. )

[sheriffing]

[ they'd both be better off if their "story" only existed out in the open. what they do behind closed doors doesn't have to follow the same pattern as their imitation relationship. of course she understands why Graham thought his place was on the couch instead of in the bed, he's giving her the distance she's supposed to cling to when no one else is looking. being with him - with him - when they're not playing a role is a dangerous routine to establish here. he's looking for clear rules and she's well aware that she's the one who keeps blurring the lines, first by offering that goodnight kiss, and now by agreeing to share a couch.

they'd have been better off in the bed. the couch is hideous and comfortable, and still not meant for two people to sleep on unless they're willing to invade each other's space. Graham gives her the responsibility of manipulating the blanket, but Emma leaves it on the back of the couch at first. better to leave it within careful grabbing distance than to have to drag that into place while she's climbing across Graham.

for someone with very little grace, she manages to swing over him without her knees or elbows landing anywhere that would cause him pain. she is especially careful when she slides over him, her eyes falling on a scar that's easily noticed now, before she gently drops into place with a quiet 'oomph'. thankfully, their budget couch only trembles slightly under her arrival, and it doesn't take much at all for her to find her place against the cushions.

well, mostly against the cushions. there's a moment or two of her trying to stay as far away from him as humanly possible, before Emma realizes how ridiculous an effort it is.] Tell me if you're uncomfortable, okay? [ it's a disclaimer she needs to give him when she turns her body toward his, finding that if she sleeps against the couch and Graham, it's better; good, even. the last time they did anything like this, it was for warmth. now it might be because he put her in charge of the blanket, and they both get more of it if there's enough overlap.

or worse, maybe it's because she likes the closeness of having to squeeze onto a couch with him, for no reason beyond the fact that they want to.] We should have set an alarm, but this falls apart if one of us tries to get up now.

[dishearten]

( tell me if you're uncomfortable. he draws her a little closer, with an arm around her shoulders. Emma has been finding that his comfort level seems flexible as far as she's concerned. over a year (longer, really) he's learned to broach touch with strangers and friends alike with various levels of success. still, the caution and hesitation he shows with literally anyone else has always seemed laughably absent with Emma. he always wants to be closer, he's more comfortable when she's closer than he is the other way around. he barely understands it himself, yet he doesn't seem inclined to question it either.

his fingers are dusting across her clavicle, his head already falling back against the arm of the couch in obvious intention of sleeping. he hadn't actually felt particularly tired even a couple seconds ago, only moving through the motions because it was easy to predict when a body could tire. having her close tends to make everything register more clearly, even the fact he's exhausted from a long day of work and trying to make sense of their mission without any of the residents of Woodhurst catching on. he's also happy to have her close, even if he hadn't thought to extend the invitation himself.

he doesn't seem particularly concerned when she mentions an alarm, breathing just as even and unconcerned as it always is. ) I'll wake up early enough. ( on the incredibly rare occasions he sleeps past an unbearably early point in the morning, Brother will wake him up more often than not. besides, neither of them have to run off to "work" until late morning. they don't need to worry about an alarm, and even if they did? he probably still wouldn't be willing to give up on closeness even for the practicality.

which is saying something, for a man that tended toward such practicality, it's almost frustrating. )

[sheriffing]

[He'll wake up early enough. She'll wake up as soon as she gets a nudge, or a very Irish whisper of her name. Graham is the early riser, while Emma isn't much of a morning person.

It's worse here, too, knowing that morning and work and the mission are going to make them have to untangle a few hours from now. For a couch in a strange world of a decade she's already endured, she's surprisingly comfortable right now. It probably has something to do with how little of the couch she's decided to occupy, instead opting to find her place in his arms. She's too tired to run from that feeling, even if it registers as something she should know better than to get used to.]

Wake me up, too.

[As opposed to, what, rolling over and leaving her there? She's not so exhausted that she doesn't realize that he'll wake her, it's just a mumble of a word to fill the space, as if she's trying to figure out what's missing. She drapes her arm over him without thinking or overthinking, although she does register that they'll have to try this in the bed some other night. The wolves can have the living room, it seems closer to what they're used to. Although, compared to this, the bed might be a bit lacking.

Her lips twitch upwards when she finds the words she was looking for, although those aren't particularly meaningful, either.] Goodnight, Graham. [ She has to admit that it's nice, saying goodnight to him without either of them being expected to go anywhere. It was like that in Oska too, and maybe she thought getting another moment like it was going to be more complicated than agreeing to share a couch for the night. It's simple, just wanting to be together. She'll enjoy it for however long it lasts, while knowing all the while that it'll end before she's ready to give it up.]

[dishearten]

( he could point out the obvious. that they're so intertwined, he doesn't see how he could possibly slip away without her waking or at least noticing. even someone as light on their feet as he is has a limit. still, he suspects she knows that as well as he does. he feels no need to fill the moment with unnecessary obvious reminders. which is admittedly a little new, Graham usually has no trouble playing the role of captain obvious most of the time.

the arm slipped around him and the head falling to rest on his chest is far more worthy of his focus than stating something they both already know. )

Goodnight, ( he breathes instead, nose dropping to the gold of her hair. he can almost feel the phantom race of a heartbeat he no longer has. is that hers, masquerading as his? not likely, when he can feel her body slowly falling prey to the exhaustion that has been chasing her all night.

there's no expectation, especially because he can't for the life of him expect anything more from her than moments past. even though they keep happening, somehow he's brilliant at deciding they are the last he'll have. there's a bit of tempting fate, pressing a kiss in her hair, and holding her closer as sleep starts to hit him. it is something he could get all to easily used to. )