pineslog | (catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

(catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

CATCH-ALL: 16TH & 17TH

march 16

THE THUNDER ROLLS

The day starts off atmospherically heavy. The clouds are low, and the temperature is unusually warm, settling in the mid to high 50s (teens in Celsius). Townies are wandering around town in lightweight jackets and hoodies making small talk about the unusual weather, but for the most part they're pleased with the warmth, even if the clouds off in the distance look rather ominous. As the day goes on, the clouds creep closer and the residents seem more inclined to get a roof over their heads and stay there. The midmorning news predicts heavy rainfall by the late afternoon, but the savvier townsfolk say it’s going to be worse than that.

They’re not wrong. The sun drops low, and the winds start to pick up, howling through the trees, bringing with them nickel-size chunks of hail and torrential rains. The darker the night gets, the worse the storm hits Wayward Pines; by the time the sun has set, the sky is obscured with opaque, swirling clouds, the winds snapping trees in half, rattling the power lines, causing electricity to flicker and sometimes go out. The hail pings against the cars not safely parked inside garages, leaving the more exposed with significant damage to paint and windows, and anyone brave (or stupid) enough to step outside is instantly soaked to the skin in cold rain.

The most chilling thing of all isn’t the rain. Anyone trying to wait the weather out on Main Street will hear three wrenching cries coming from the woods, almost like the exact moment a person shreds their vocal cords in a scream. The townies claim not to hear anything unusual. It’s just the wind, they say, and they may be right. The sound as it shrieks through the trees and between buildings is similar enough to cast doubt, and combined with the rain even the most experienced camper would likely get lost trying to find it.

march 17

THERE’S WHISKEY IN THE JAR, OH

Whatever damage was caused by the previous night’s storm has mostly been cleared from Main Street by the early morning of St Patrick's Day. The streets are still a little wet, with plenty of puddles for the more adventurous children (and adults) to splash around in. The air is still a little chilly, but nothing a sweatshirt can’t fix. Nothing’s fully set up until about nine in the morning, but when it is, the St. Patty’s Day celebration gets under way. It’s small, more of a farmers' market or small festival than anything major. There’s food stalls and tables for eating, as well as a few booths where townsfolk are plying their crafts and non-food wares, as well as live music. The festivities during the daylight hours are pretty tame, a PG-rated good time for all.

When the sun sets, the party gets a little more rowdy. Someone busts out the booze and someone else busts out the Mardi Gras beads, and the music gets louder. While many food stalls are still open, the rest have shut down as the street fills with revelers, many of them holding cups half-filled with beer or something a little stronger. This part of the party isn’t for kids, and if anyone underage is spotted they'll quickly get escorted back home by the police — so try not to get caught, yes?

MOD NOTES

This is a catch-all for any and all threads pertaining to the storm (March 16th) and the St. Patrick's Day festival (March 17th)! Details on both of these happenings can be found in the March Newsletter.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, which Day(s) your top-level takes place in, and Open or Closed, to help keep things a bit more organized. (For example: "Joe Biden | 16th & 17th | Open!")

Should you choose to participate in both mini-events, you're welcome to make separate top-level posts for each day or to combine them both into one.

If you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask them here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[3/16]

[The second day of work north of the hospital starts well enough. It's actually not too awful outside, and the crew he's working with (all locals) are actually pretty nice guys. No one makes him talk too much, they just let him carry and dig and load trucks. The manual labor helps keep him from getting too tense, too worried about just what's going on in this town, lets him believe that once they finish the mission, Warren and the others will come back for him. He doesn't know where they are, doesn't have any way of reaching them, so all he can do is wait. It helps to have something to do to fill his time.

The morning goes by fast, but around noon he starts to notice the sky. Some of the other men grumble, and they call it a day in the late afternoon, a couple hours early. He heads into town to pick up dinner on his way home, sure he'll make it in time, but the sky apparently has other plans as he's not even a block into Main Street before it opens up completely. Making a mad dash for the nearest shop overhang, 10K leans back against the facade, hands wiping rain from his face, when he hears the first scream. Head whipping around, he tries to locate the source, and when he hears another body step out of the shop, he looks to them for confirmation.]

Did you hear that?

[He barely waits for an answer. The second scream comes, and he bolts straight towards the sound coming from the woods, hand reaching to the pocket of his coat for a weapon.]

[3/17]

[In hindsight, running around outdoors in the middle of a hailstorm has not been one of his brighter ideas. Neither was running towards the horrible screaming coming from the woods, but hey. Honestly, the bruises hurt more today.

10K still goes to work at the construction site, toughing it out and brushing off the few concerned questions from the older men working with him, and it isn't til 6 or so that he makes his way over to the festival he'd seen them setting up this morning, looking for food and maybe some sign of what the night before had been all about. Feel free to find him stuffing his face, a violet-green bruise on his forehead peeking out from under spiky bangs, or maybe having a drink or two. While he's still 19, he acts old enough and has been working around town long enough that most of the locals forget he's still technically not old enough--and either way he's not exactly flaunting the cup in his hand. Although he might ask you what you're having--better than going to the hospital for painkillers, right?]

[wildcard]

[Feel free to hit me with other scenarios, I'm open!]

[ Damon has few settings, but the default setting is, dry, sarcastic and unhelpful. ]

Something stronger. [ He answers the guy, who, sure, could be younger but who is he to judge. ] Or, did you think local beers were the extent of this town. [ Not that he's offering his at all. ] Beer envy? [ He doesn't particularly care, but he's missed ridicule and other things he'd be called on. It's a sentiment he thought he'd outgrown, but it's more out of being a nuisance than an outright danger. Don't worry, he's not above sharing if the person deserve sharing. There's also the pesky idea of him trolling 10k when in reality, he drinks what he gets at these events. Oh well, Damon knows he's not any more drunk than anyone else. But, 10K can ask the local adult. Not that he'll be helpful. ]

Edited 2017-03-17 05:51 (UTC)

[The ridicule might be something Damon enjoys, finds comforting even, but 10K's sheer lack of reaction might end up a bit of a downer. He isn't insulted, or embarrassed, or irritated; in fact, his shrug's as casual as ever, despite the slight wince that crosses his face when one shoulder pulls at a bruised muscle.]

Don't know that I'd call it envy, just curiosity, but if you don't want to say I guess you've got no reason to.

[These feathers remain supremely unruffled, sir.]

[ Well, that does unruffle. And, really it's coming from Damon's still being stuck in this small town. ]

I'd ask you if you know what happened to the cat, [ Because of his curiosity. ] not that bourbon from my personal collection isn't worth killing over. I have more refined taste than green beer. But, if there's a time and place. [ It's now. ]

Do you like bourbon?

[ Because, he will pour you some of his close, personal bourbon.

A second passes when he considers something. ] You live down the street from my brother and me. [ And his wife, right now. Please don't ask about his wife, unless you know about his wife. Then, fine, he has a wife. ]

Green beer? That's a thing?

[Hey, cut him some slack. This is literally the first St. Patrick's Day he's actually celebrated. Well. Been around people who were celebrating, whatever.]

I like whiskey. Bourbon's pretty much the same, right? [The answer comes without really thinking, and it isn't until Damon makes the following comment that he really looks closer at the not-so-stranger talking to him.]

Hey, yeah. I think. I dunno, I'm not home much.

[Houses are weird; big, empty houses moreso. He doesn't spend much time there if he can help it.]

You really are amateur hour. How old are you?

[ He wouldn't say it before, and no matter what answer this kid gives him, he's not about to let the locals know. If this kid wanted to partake, far be it for Damon to stop him. He's got bigger fish to fry. Answers to glean. Green beer to completely ignore. Never a when in Rome situation when the beer's sub par. ]

I have a good memory.

[ Is that what this is? ]

And the difference is the mixture of grains, and storage. Bourbon whiskey is stored in charred oak. [ But, apparently tonight is about bourbon lessons. ]

Twenty-one.

[He does not say 'old enough,' as even he knows that that is the kind of answer that immediately screams 'no you aren't.' He doesn't even really look twenty-one, but there are enough ghosts in his eyes to lay any arguments to rest unless you're an especial stickler for the law.

He's a good listener, though, part of knowing when to keep his mouth shut, and he seems interested enough in what Damon's got to say.]

Does that make that big of a difference? With the taste.

[ He'll buy it. He also doesn't care enough to not believe the kid. ]

It makes a monumental difference. [ He half scoffs, his entire body rising and falling as he makes his point. A point he thinks should be known universally. ] The better the bourbon, the older, the smoother the taste is on your palate. Your cheap whiskey burns more. Nothing grounds it. Great bourbon has flavor and balance. [ And again, age. ] Where it's distilled and how matters. Whiskey is your poor man's bourbon.

[Wow. This guy sure feels strongly about his alcohol. Not exactly something 10K's used to, though it reminds him a little of Doc waxing nostalgic about shrooms.]

Sounds like you, uh. Know a lot about it.

[Sorry, heathen taste buds here. He's got no clue what half those words even mean, man.]

I've had a lot of experience. [ He's been around the block a few times. ] Aren't you passionate about something? [ For Damon, it's his brother, Elena, and aged bourbon. Sometimes scotch. ]

[He perks up just a little at that question.] Guns. Well, shooting. I'm a pretty good hand with anything I pick up. Can hit a bullseye from a hundred yards if I've got my rifle and it's been taken care of.

[He's maybe a little more enthusiastic about weapons than a normal person should be.]

Go to the gun range a lot as a kid?

[ While it may seem Damon the local mechanic is trying to get to know one of his seldom seen neighbors, it's more a test of what this kid knows about being here and therefore what he remembers. He's expecting the lie, or even a memory he's been given to remember. But, color him curious. It's not an altogether useless skill. This kid could be a little Alaric in the making. ]

Nah. Pines doesn't have a range. [There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a touch of wariness that comes and goes in a flash. Why's this guy asking a question he should know the answer to? Maybe he doesn't really know the answer. Maybe he's just asking. Still, 10K's got paranoid down to an art.]

Used to do some hunting with my dad. He taught me, out in the woods. Target practice. You ever been?

[ It's a slip up, in some cases, but there are other places besides Pines. There must be. ]

I haven't. I've always been told not to. [ Signs. Sheriff. Other brainwashed, Stepford neighbors. ] Your dad here?

[ It's not that she's looking to build an army of underage boys.

It's just -- well, her memories aren't all back yet, but she remembers. Jumping out of the sky, doing what she can to make sure they push through. Babyfaces who've seen much more of the dark side than they should have. And he doesn't pluck those strings of memory the way some others might, but Aranea still looks at that face and grabs an extra cup, an large slosh of whiskey which is severely diminished by the red plastic cup it's in, and hold it out to him. ]

Let me guess. I shoulda seen the other guy?

[Frankly though, if you're looking to build an army of teenage boys, this one isn't a bad addition to the ranks. He's pretty capable, when he's not running out into terrible storms in pursuit of horrifying screams. He doesn't hit the same chords as some of those other boys she remembers, but there are echoes; he's seen some awful things, he knows, but the details are fuzzy.

And for now, he's smiling ruefully as he accepts the cup, sniffing it briefly before downing the contents with only the smallest of flinches.]

He was kinda hard to miss. 'Bout two thousand feet tall, big black stormclouds, hail the size of a golf ball. Guess it wasn't real smart of me getting caught out in that mess last night, but bruises fade, at least.

That asshole, huh? Looks like you ran him out of town, though.

[ She smiles, not unkindly, at the flinch. Maybe it's not a great idea to be doling out booze to the young'uns in a place that seems to put such value on being a good citizen, but. Well. ]

Smart can be overrated. Me, I like to save up my dumb for the really big events. Good to know people are holding the fort in the meantime.

[The laugh is silent, but the grin is visible enough, slightly crooked and self-conscious.]

Be nice if I could take credit for that, but I'm pretty sure it was just nature. Nature that...really hurt. We didn't even find--well. Anyway, it was something I don't plan on doing again soon. Least not til the bruises fade. Guess we'll have to find someone else to take over the stupid decision for a while.

Sounds like the smartest decision of all, right there.

[ He's sure chatty, and between that and the crooked little smile she's making the tentative decision to like him. Good kid. Probably, and if only by her own admittedly skewed standards. ]

How're you liking the party?

[He wasn't always chatty. He still isn't always chatty, in fact hours can go by where he says nothing at all. But people look at you differently when you're always the quiet one in the crowd. When you're a loner, an outsider. People notice. And here, well. Being noticed isn't always a good thing. So he thinks of Abby, thinks of Doc, of the easy ways they talk, and the drink she gave him helps too to loosen things up.]

Good enough, I suppose. I'm not much of one for parties, usually. Too many people. But it's nice, sometimes, seeing everyone together having a good time. Not enough moments like that.

[He didn't mean to say that last part, really. A little too sentimental, even for him. A little embarrassed, he tacks on a hasty,]

What about you?

[Skye is just about to leave the cafe, braving the weather just to get home. Backpack hung over her shoulder, Skye held onto hood because she knew it would come flying off otherwise. Pulling the door open, Skye sees someone just standing there, she's about to move around them when she hears screaming.]

...I was just about to-

[But then he takes off, and Skye being well, Skye, takes off after him. Whether to stop him or to find the source she isn't sure yet. It's hard to see him reach for a weapon since she's barely got her eyes open against the rain and hail. Adjusting her backpack so both straps were on her shoulder, Skye finally caught up to him. Unsurprisingly out of breath. He could run. Finally catching sight of his face, Skye looked around before looking to him again.]

Don't I know you from somewhere?

[10K's stopped for the moment when she finally catches up, an arm shielding his face uselessly from the rain as he searches the dark. Her voice is the thing that pulls him from his study, squinting over at her through the rain and occasional piece of hail. It's hard to tell through the dark and the wet, but he's pretty sure--]

Skye??

[He hasn't really talked to her in a couple weeks, but he's pretty sure it's her. The girl he walked to the sheriff's station, let her borrow his jacket. He'd ask what she's doing out here, but that's gotta be pretty obvious, right?]

Did you hear which way it came from? That scream...

[She had met so many people that day, but she remembered his name after a moment. 10k. Really odd name, but, whatever. Not the point.]

No. It happened so fast and then it went quiet, but it definitely came from in here.

[Because that was helpful. Hissing in pain when a particular large piece of hail nailed her in the hand, Skye shook out her hand.]

I would say 'let's split up', but honestly? Probably a bad idea. Maybe we should start this way first.

[Skye gestured with a tilt of her head to the right before she started off.]

[Names are important. He does his best to remember them, a task which in this place has gained even more importance. The repetition of everything he knew, everything he learned that day to cement it in his memory, because you never knew what was coming next. You never knew when you'd forget.

His eyes return to the landscape in front of them, scanning the darkness.]

You're right. Bad idea. We should stick together, in case we find whatever was screaming. Or making them scream. Are you armed?

[He follows in the direction she picks out. Good as any for the minute, at least until--if--the next sound comes.]

[Him asking if she's armed doesn't exactly make her feel good about the possibilities they could face out here. She kind of just acted on instinct without really thinking about the consequences.]

No. Why? Are you?

[And does he have another weapon she could borrow? She doesn't hear another scream, but she nearly has a heart attack her hand brushes against a plant.]

Okay, this place is creepy at night.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(catch-all) the storm & the st. paddy's day festival

10K, 16th and 17th, open prompts (small amounts covert underage drinking?)

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17th

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3/16

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