All the world a frozen snowglobe of despair

[tinstar]

Who: Raylan Givens and OTA
What: Pre-Crisis reaction + Raylan venturing in public post murder | Event threads to be added later
When: January
Where: Milton; will update if needed

Closed to Tim Gutterson

Closed to Tim Gutterson
Screams were not normally how Raylan woke up, even from his worst dreams, but tonight was different. He was drenched in sweat, and had his heart beating out of his chest like normal, and the terror that fuels the scream is the same terror that sends Raylan up and out of bed with a primal scramble. The wood of the floor feels like stone until the dresser edge digs into his side, the pain snapping him back to reality. He wasn't in the forest, wasn't getting chased by the Darkwalker. Wasn't falling to his death.

"The end of all things," he pants without realizing it. The fear was pushing him to get ready, to get dressed, get his gun, to run. It battled with every logical thought that could manage to take breath. It took him a half second longer to really see Tim and as soon as Tim registers, he's moving again to sit on the bed with a hand out to take whatever part of Tim he could. He felt wild again, scared and hellbent on survival for them both.

"Did you-" Had Tim seen the same thing? The choices. Had Tim taken one of Enola's offers? Could he? Raylan himself could not, no matter if he wanted to - his body froze in the dreams at those points, keeping him still and unchoosing. Too many weird things about the dreams here for him to focus too much on that one.

Whatever Tim's choices, they'd figure it out together. Nothing would change.

In Milton - Early January

Around Town/Community Hall

Raylan's Stetson was firmly on his head today as he moved through what used to be daily chores for Milton, using the brim to help not meet anyone's eye for too long. Normally, he was fine with putting a man 6 foot under; primarily because said men always gave him a reason that was justified if not in the actual law, then in the common sense security of self and home. 'Home' was a word he was fine bending to include what he needed to at any given time, but no gymnastics could justify what he had done to that poor boy. He didn't know how many people had seen or heard what had happened, but someone has to have cleared the body from the street. How hard had they all had to become here.

Nothing to do but try to go back to normal. Delivery of firewood happens again, at any house he know is occupied, like a cowboy Firewood Santa. If he was right, if everyone in Milton had the dream he had, then firewood might be a little pointless. the end of all things But the Darkwalker wasn't here yet and he didn't know how else to prepare right now.

What he did know was that the Community Hall was going to remain an important place for them. Maybe he can pay off some small fraction of the debt he owes in working on it's repairs and general weather maintenance. So he could be found with a hammer, pulling nails out of broken boards for straightening later. At least when he was working with his hands, his mind didn't have the unrestricted leash to wander itself back into total despair.

Comments

[comfortablyerect]

It takes Tim a long moment to realize they've woken up at the same time.

Nightmares aren't new to him, not by a long shot, and he knows they're not new to his partner, either. Between their childhoods, the things they've both done out of self-determined justice and following orders, they have plenty of things to make them wake up sweating and gasping in the middle of the night.

This is different. It's not a normal dream, for starters, it's one of the fucked up ones with real consequences that Enola or the Darkwalker or whoever decides to give them. Most nightmares leave Tim with non-existent sand gritting between his teeth and invisible smoke burning his throat and nose. Waking up from this one doesn't even feel like waking up at first. One moment he's falling, shouting as the Darkwalker makes a swipe for him, and the next he's in bed without ever having landed, that villainous laughter never fading or dimming, the sound bouncing between his ears for what he's surprised is going to be forever. Tim scrambles back into the headboard with his gun already in one hand.

Not that he thinks the Darkwalker would be so easily taken down by a bullet or two, but it's mostly habit and the familiar comfort of cold metal in his hand. He doesn't realize at first that Raylan's awake too, though he does almost instantly notice that he's in bed alone again.

But only for a moment, because Raylan comes from the shadows across the room and sits beside him, and Tim feels an intense rush of relief when his mind starts putting the pieces together and he realizes Raylan hasn't disappeared again, that he probably had the same dream Tim did, and neither of them appear physically injured. It's his arm that Raylan's hand finds first, and Tim remedies it quickly by pulling his arm back until their fingers meet and wrap around each other.

"Yeah." He can't tell if he cut his partner off or if Raylan cut himself off, but it doesn't matter. They're on the same page. They always are. "Fuck. Makes me miss dreamin' about Iraq."

It's said flatly, truthfully -- he looks at his boyfriend in the dark and realizes he's still holding his gun. He makes no moves to set it aside. His next inhale is shakier than he wants it to be.

"It's feelin' less and less like we're gonna make it out of here alive."

[tinstar]

Fingers interlaced, Raylan squeezes his hand and shifts so that Tim's arm draped more comfortably onto his leg, raking his free hand through his hair before using it to prop up the rest of his own weight. His heartrate was only just coming down and he was sure he could still feel that suffocating breath on the back of his neck. The roar sure as shit keeps ringing in his ears and while he's firmly up and on solid ground, his body still felt like it was stuck in the moment the floor fell out from under him.

He makes a weak sound, something that would have been a scoff of dark appreciation if it was stronger, and half shakes his head as he looks at their hands in the faint light from the window. There was nothing they could do to stop this. No actions that they could take to keep themselves safer, no measures that were to help secure even their minds. A sharp wave of despair followed those thoughts and he couldn't bring himself to look up into the shadows to Tim's face.

"He ain't got us 'til he's got us." It wasn't a disagreement. "And we're sure as hell not gonna stop runnin'." His voice was a little stronger with the second statement, the flare up of stubborn asshole that was part of his DNA rearing, and he lifts his face up to Tim's. There wasn't going to be any arguing with Tim holding his weapon this time, not when Raylan still itched for his own. There very well may be something that comes in at them and after that dream, he'd expect nothing less.

"Don't know that it's an upside to say we might see the end of the world together."

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey's home when Raylan shows up with the firewood. The smell of smoke and roast meat is emanating from the house—it's obvious he's got a meal on the stove or something cooking in the oven. He's trying to keep up that trademark Cornelius Hickey nonchalance that he's always tried to have, but it's obvious that something's rattled him a bit. He'll never admit it unless seriously pressed, but that dream has thrown him off his game.

"Come on in," Hickey says, with a little nod. Raylan's here, Raylan's pack. If Raylan wants something, Hickey will make sure his friend gets it. "Hungry? Billy's out right now, so I cooked up some stew for when he returns. It won't be as good as anything he makes, but I'm an alright chef myself."

It won't kill anybody, at least.

[tinstar]

It wasn't that Raylan was expecting everyone to be out, but he still finds himself a little startled to hear Hickey. More surprising than that was the unabashed relief to see a friendly face. He normally didn't need them as often as he thought other, regular people might and he had plenty of friendliness in Tim, but he didn't carry shame well and he'd earned what he saw as a hell of a share.

The rest of his sack is rolled off his now slacked shoulder with a grateful nod in return, and he leaves it where it lands in the snow to walk himself into Hickey's house. Hickey was pack. It was a leap, a first real and actual test for Raylan as to what, exactly, 'pack' covered from Hickey's point of view.

"I'd take a mug, if you're offerin'. The cold feels more bitin' than it used to." Was it just him that felt that way? Raylan takes off his hat, brushing the snow off it's brim with a quick glance around before he's looking back at Hickey, dark eyes edging on a guilty look.

"You, uh.. You wouldn't have happened to had a weird as fuck dream, would ya?" Part of him always hoped that it was just him, just his dark mind churning up horror like usual. The rest of him knew how stupid and futile that hope was.

[friendsfordinner]

Good. That's what he wants to hear. Hickey nods before walking towards the kitchen. There's a pot cooking on a wood stove, burning happily. Hickey reaches over to the cabinet, pulling out a few mugs and setting them down. Though Raylan's next question gives him a bit of pause.

"Yeah," he answers, with a little nod. "That Enola girl was there. But then the Darkwalker showed up, tried to claw me in half." Hickey lets out a short little laugh before, "Damn thing missed. And if it shows up outside of my dreams, I'm not going to run."

Yes, the Darkwalker has something that inspires fear in people, some supernatural force that causes innate terror. But consider this: Hickey is damn stubborn. And supernatural fear happens to other people! He'll be fine. He has to be fine. He won't let himself be scared by some giant, fuckoff monster that can't see the use in him.

He ladles out a decent sized spoonful of soup into a mug before moving to hand it to Raylan.