atonementlogs | Event 001: The Potions

Characters: All.
When: February 1st
Where: Town Square
Warnings: None. Please put any warnings in the comment subject if it progresses that way!

As of this morning, there will be a steady rain over Penance that will darken the skies to black and fall as if somehow tainted and muddied, followed by a cold and harsh wind that will chill one to the bone if they dare to venture out in it... which may be necessary. The ground and roads will be slick and muddied, but there will be power outages due to the weather so staying in may not be necessarily more appealing. The rain will continue steadily for a week and be intermittent the rest of the month.

However, should anyone venture to the town square in search of warmth, there will be a large tent set up that is entirely illuminated regardless of whether the rest of Penance is or not. There will be supplies such as food and water for the taking, as well as a few old blankets for people to huddle under while they wait out the storm.

That's not all, of course. It wouldn't be atoning in the slightest if things were made too calm and cozy during the storm. There will also be letters left to each of Penance's new citizens detailing what this month's punishment entails.

It's time for your hosts to be a little less kind than upon arrival.

A table set up under the tent has five different kind of vials on it, plenty of each to go around. They have the following effects:

Pink. Allows for one to hear the true thoughts of others, including what is thought about them for 24 hours during all interactions. This is to cause some self-reflection and insight into how they're viewed.

Green. Allows for pain to be given to another for 24 hours. It will be agonizing pain and sickness. While this is extremely frowned upon, it will mean that the person in question will have participated in punishments this round and will be excused from drinking any other potion. However, remember that the actions we take now may have consequences in the future. It should also be noted that you won't get to choose who experiences the pain due to your decision, so no trying to take a grudge out on anyone.

Purple. Allows one to feel the pain they caused another during their lives for 24 hours. They will feel what that person felt entirely. Hopefully this will cause some reflection and remorse for the actions that caused another to feel hurt.

Blue. Forces honesty for 24 hours. No lying and one may even be compelled to spill their deepest, darkest secrets and sins to anyone who will listen. Transparency is key to atoning for past sins.

Red Causes significant pain for 24 hours. It may be general pain like an ache in your bones that can't be soothed, or it may manifest in physical injuries such as cuts, bruises, etc. They say pain can be cleansing...

For those eager for punishment (which your hosts love to see), you may take more than one vial to spread out over the month, although taking multiple potions at once may not be entirely wise for most. Citizens may opt to try to avoid punishment this month, but again, remember all choices may have future consequences. Your hosts are here to see that you pay for your sins, not just scrape by.

With your letter collected, you may stay and get to know each other a little better while you wait for the storm to pass or insist on grabbing your items and brave the return to your home. The choice is absolutely yours.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If Atticus were privy to his thoughts, he'd smile. Why set one's goals so low? Why think only of going home when, clearly, there are places beyond the borders of life and death left to explore?

"No heat, need firewood."

"Perhaps I could assist you in that regard."

He kneels to pick up a piece of damp wood and, stepping lightly to avoid mud puddles, approaches a flat-ish stone outcropping. He rests the wood there and, with a flick of one wrist, sets the thing ablaze. Fighting against the moisture that has well saturated the wood grain requires a bit of work, and his hand trembles some at the effort required to keep the blaze alight, but soon the residual moisture is gone, and the wood crackles, its bark and grain snapping and peeling.

Who cares about the places beyond the borders? Not him, not now. Not when there's work to be done and he can still find himself beside Goody at the end of the day. That's all that matters to him right now- there isn't anything for them to go back to. Rose Creek had been their death beds, and in the life before, Billy had been a wanted man.

At least here, his bounty wasn't known, even if he tenses with every stranger he meets.

"No, thanks." Billy protests to the help, hand tight on the handle of the axe as the stranger approaches. But he takes one of the split logs he's been chopping, pulls away to set it on some outcropping.

And then a thing of miracles happens- the log catches alight, burning bright even with the rain and wind howling against it. Crackling like it had never been moist. Too bad that Billy doesn't believe in miracles, and that to him Magic is what the old men in Yee Fow call wishes that sometimes work.

"Nice trick." There's a tone of disbelief, as if he's some stage magician like Faraday, ready to pull a card from his sleeve.
"Waste of wood."

"Touch it, then." Atticus turns his eyes on Billy in clear challenge. His hand remains extended towards the wooden log to keep it aflame in clear spite of the elements that seek to douse it. (There's a metaphor there somewhere for himself, his life, his dogged pursuit of a god that won't be found, but he's never been fond of metaphors.)

"If it is a trick," he goes on, "then you won't be burned."

There's a slow raise of Billy's brow as he gives him a flat stare, a clear look of "what do you take me for, an idiot?". The trick wasn't in the flames- those are real enough, he's sure, considering they cast light and warmth. But the trick was in the making of them, some illusionist's parlor trick involving misdirection.

After all, as Faraday said, it was never about the cards.

"Never got your name." A change of subject as blunt as a railroad hammer. But he'd never been good with people, with finessing them like Goody had.

Atticus lifts his chin with a smile. "I never gave it," he replies.

He relaxes his wrist, and the flames immediately begin to die down. Still there remains no discernible connection between the practiced movements of his hand and the fire that now dies upon the log. He keeps the umbrella held above his head and takes a few steps towards Billy, apparently unperturbed by the ax in his grip. "Atticus Vedici," he says at length, and holds out his hand.

"You are?"

"Billy Rocks."

It's not the name he was born with, but it was the name he was known by. A new name for a new life, one that had to be made after running from the law. Not like this Atticus would know.

He doesn't take his hand, instead looking back at the dying fire. A reminder that he should be getting out of the rain soon. Would be a terrible thing to catch cold and not have a doctor available to treat him.

"I need to get these back home."

He lets his hand remain extended for just long enough to determine that Billy isn't going to take it, before replaced it in his pockets. Hm. Something to mull over later.

"Don't let me keep you," he replies mildly and takes a step to the side, lest he give the impression of blocking Billy's way. "I'm sure we will see each other again soon."

It's an inevitability, around here.

Billy does him the courtesy of at least tipping his hat in politeness. Maybe he doesn't shake his hand, but he's not completely discourteous. Just wary. A man who can start a fire with a trick up his sleeve is one not to get too close to- the same way that Faraday can seem to pull a gun from nowhere.

"Suppose I will." There's a pause. A politeness. An attempt to make nice with the strangers. And he knows that Goodnight would want company other than him, holding court as he usually does in saloons.

"... If you ever want a game of cards, stop by. My partner would appreciate the company." More words strung together than the entire conversation, really, but who's counting?

Atticus is. His eyebrows creep towards his hairline. "That sounds like a pleasant diversion," he replies, courteous in kind, and his choice of words especially curious; diversion, as in a way to pass the time, or diversion as a means of avoiding Atticus for the time being? Probably a bit of both.

"I'd be glad to pay you a visit," he replies, remaining where he is in the rain beneath the shelter of his umbrella.

Event 001: The Potions

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