All the world a frozen snowglobe of despair
Jan. 4th, 2026 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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singillatimWho: 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
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.
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.
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.