Lechance

[OOC notes: Players, please check ooc post here for more information. The ooc post will be updated as the thread progresses.]

They'd met in the Town Square shortly after 1.30pm.

When it was clear that every one was there, Jonas swung up onto his borrowed mount, called Digger near, and addressed the assembled folk from horseback.

"First off, may I jus' take the opportunity to tell you how grateful this town, and indeed myself and my team are for all your valuable help and support over this last while. Hopefully now we're actually getting somewhere, but I won't lie to you, this situation is still potentially very dangerous. And so I must urge you to practice extreme caution at every turn. Your safety is paramount above and beyond anything we may find. Stick together, no wanderin' off the path. Buddy up whenever you can, even if nature calls, beggin' your pardon. Deputy Charles has your names duly noted, and we'll be checking on folks along the way. Please be aware of everything around you. If you see something out of place, unusual tracks, items, sights, sounds, hell, even smells, please bring them to the attention of either myself, or Deputies Coleman or Charles."

He waited until he was sure everyone had absorbed the information so far before continuing. "Right, we're going to head up to the trail the patrol took and past their shelter from the other night, and up on up to the fissure to the co-ordinates that Sheriff Bowbuck left behind him when he left. If we encounter any strange weather on the way, everyone is to head for that shelter, is that understood?" 

The assembled patrol murmured their agreement. "Good, good. Right. I'll head up the column for now." He looked to his deputies. "Leo, can you take the back of the line, and Andrew, if you could ride out alongside as spotter? We'll be stopping for breaks along the way so that I can check on progress and where everyone is up to. First of these I suggest'll be just up from the shelter. There's a bit of a flat area just up beyond it. We'll stop there."

He looked around the folk gathered, "And I just pray that the good Lord'll be shinin' on us, and we'll find somethin' useful. Everyone got watches to hand?" He took his out of his waistcoat pocket, and checked it against the town clock. "Happen it's now 2pm. Worse comes to worse an' we get separated, everyone's to report back here afore 4.30pm. Any questions?" he finished, looking around. "Speak up now if so." 

His eyes scanned over those assembled to look for any hands, or people shouting out with questions.

Just after midday, and the town crier announcement, and James had taken the opportunity and meandered down to the shore, taking a hardback book of manuscript paper with him. He needed a mental break from the research, and no one had booked him for teaching, so he had a while to relax in, to work out his brain in more familiar ways.

Taking off his shoes and stockings out of fond habit, he settled down by the dunes, resting his back against a tussock, his book propped up on his knees. He was soon busy scribbling hard with his pencil, scratching out phrases that he didn't think would work, and rewriting them. He looked like he was listening intently, head bowed over the paper, brow furrowed in concentration, feet digging into and under the warm sand, murmuring occasionally to himself.

Lifting his head briefly, he moved the fingers of his right hand in midair, in obvious imitation of finding notes on a piano. His eyes were closed, his head tilted and he was singing out notes very softly under his breath. He didn't much notice when a shadow passed over him as someone approached, and was startled as he finally opened his eyes to write.

"Oh apologies, please excuse my rudeness, I was miles away," he said with a nod of greeting, a warm slow smile growing on his face.

Ben was still in his work clothes when he came to Jon's office late in the afternoon. He locked the door behind him, climbed onto Jon's lap and bit his throat under his chin and over his collar. "Hello."

Hattie had spent the last two days baking, cleaning the house from top to bottom and decorating it with flowers. She'd brought most of the chairs in the house into the drawing room, set in little groups so people could talk comfortably, each with a little table to put their tea and cakes on. On a bigger table, there was a huge urn of tea and cakes and breads of every imaginable sort. Hattie had had the time of her life baking them!

The fun she'd had preparing could only be exceeded by the joy that filled her as she gazed about at the people filling her drawing room.

Ben very deliberately came home from work just a bit early, taking off his boots at the door and putting them on the boot jack and starting a pot of tea before moving through the house and searching for his house, hoping his husband had done the same, "Jon?"

The announcement about the meeting had been cried every day for the past week; every citizen had been strongly encouraged to attend.

Since it had the possibility of running for a long time -- and to give it the appropriate sense of seriousness -- the meeting was held in the cathedral, one of the only places in LeChance that could seat most of the town. Leroy stood behind the lectern, quietly talking to Ms. Sheedy as the crowd gathered. He looked tired but determined.

He invited Jonas and his staff to sit at the front of the space with him, giving them a brief rundown of what he planned and giving them a chance to voice objections or suggestions before the idea was placed before the town. Others at the front of the hall included Father Marks, the judge, council members, a historian and the principal of the schools.

Finally, on the hour, Anastacia Mason, the town crier, stepped forward and called for all to be seated and settled. She read a few commonplace announcements before introducing Leroy and moving unobtrusively to the side.

Leroy stepped up, hands behind his back and took a breath as he ordered his thoughts.

( My fellow citizens... )

Santiago had decided to treat himself to lunch at the Black Sheep. He was surprised to find it crowded but then again, he supposed there were many people in the town that didn't like to cook for themselves.

He approached a solitary figure at a table and smiled pleasantly. "Please forgive the intrusion but do you mind if I share your table?"

( Letter )

Ben came home from his walk on the beach soaked to the skin, having decided to throw himself in the ocean to rinse the worse of the alcohol off and to sober himself up a little. He was still wet when he walked in, and still smelled a little like rum and molasses.

He called out as he came in, uncharacteristically tentative, "Jon?"

Ben was having a hard time staying still.

A really, really hard time staying still.

He was sitting in the sand by the sea, shoes off, pants rolled indecently high, near to his knees. He was restless, leg moving in uncertain time, making the sand shift, stick to him. The crabs scuttled far from him, disturbed by his motions.

He started singing, low, accent thick, blurring the words enough that it wasn't clear what he was singing- it was Cajun, too thick too even be clearly a French dialect. His eyes were glassy, absent and he was very much other where. He smelled like oranges. Molasses, cooked slow and sweet. Rum. Definitely rum.

( NSFW )

Thursday morning, and Effie had a pair of gloves completed, lifted, laundered and stitched, and packaged ready to go. Her first expedition to the post office without a chaperon - without needing one.

A fine, bracing morning, and she tugged her shawl snugly around her shoulders, head held high and parcel held close as she turned the corner, bobbing a curtsy of greeting to the person approaching from the opposite direction. "Good morning to ye."

Late in the afternoon, a small crowd gathered in a field to participate in the gathering of the final harvest of the season. They loaded it into a decorated horse-drawn wagon and followed it into town, singing songs and waving sheafs of hay.

More people followed along as the parade passed them by, leading them into the square that normally held the merchants but had been cleared earlier for the celebration. There were still a few booths set up but they'd been converted to homes for games. The growing crowd was invited to march to the cathedral for a short service or to stay at the square to help set up for a feast.

Lanterns were lit all around the buildings and the square, casting a warm glow. There was just the slightest nip in the air but that would be dispelled when the dancing started later. Enormous amounts of food were heaped on a banquet table and long tables were set with glittering china and strewn with bouquets of late-blooming flowers.

Ben flopped down on his back in the grass at the side of the swings at the playground in the north of town. He stretched his arms out side and shut his eyes, letting the cool breeze from the river wash over him.

He was so very much playing hooky.

I wake up early just to watch you sleep. Isn't that funny? The way your mouth tilts when you dream, the curl of your hair over your forehead, the fall of your eyelashes on your cheek. These are the things that mean morning to me. Safety and contentment and home. I hadn't thought I'd like those things much. I never have before.

I've not been one for traditions or protocols or ritual. But it's different with you. I waited for you. I probably always will. Just a little further up the path, tugging at you to hurry, but you get to me eventually. I hope.

I wake up early in the morning to watch you sleep because I want to watch you frown in your sleep, move to try to touch me again when I move out of your arms. You reach for me in your sleep, Jon, and I'm not entirely positive I know how to respond to that. You reach for me in your sleep because I'm part of you now and you're part of me. You know when we're not touching, bodies pressed together under my grandfather's quilt. I'm colder for not touching you, but I take it. I want to feel the loss to know I miss it. That I miss being entwined with you, so close we're damned near joined, even when our bodies aren't.

I didn't expect to want to be married. I didn't expect to want you. To need you. Expectations are funny things. Because I think I do. It's both so wrong and the rightest thing I've ever felt in my life. We're very different, but we blend together like the interlocking parts of a puzzle. My stomach's full though I haven't even and it's full of warmth and my back itches, high up, just under my hair. I don't know what that means, really, but I suspect it means I love you. That as much as the law says I'm yours, I am. but more than that, you're mine, because I can't not have you. I'd be incomplete. It almost hurts to feel this way, but in the best possible manner. My skin's too tight because I feel too much to keep it all inside.

I didn't expect you, Jon. But I'm so glad to have you.

All my love,
Always yours,
Ben

James had been to the morning service at the Cathedral, and was now sitting on a wall in the grounds, waiting for Mr. Nichols to finish his rounds of farewells to folk. His eyes were closed behind his glasses, his head tilted back as he hummed along to the music still issuing from inside the building. Going to church had been strange, but the familiar rhythm of ritual, even with the slight cultural differences, and the hymns, despite the different accents they were sung in, had comforted him.

He didn't much believe in the tenets of religion much these days, not since all that had happened back home. The aesthetics however, the beauty in the building itself, the music of voices joined together in song, the communion of folk brought together under a common banner, now *that* he could truly believe in.

He had been neatly turned out when he arrived, but now some of his hair was coming free from the confines of the thin velvet ribbon that was trying to hold it back. Suddenly feeling a chill, he shrugged up the collar of his jacket, and pulled it tighter around him. He brought his head up, and opened his eyes slowly to see someone looking concernedly at him. 

"'M fine," he murmured softly, still looking like his mind was a million miles away. "Internal music," he 'explained'.

Jon couldn't stop running his thumb over the red band around Ben's wrist and smiling. His hand was still holding onto his husband's and didn't that feel grand to think. He was beyond happy and couldn't even think of the words for it. Kissing Ben's cheek lightly, Jon whispered, "Is it time to go home yet?"

Tables had been dragged into Jonas' office and pushed together to help provide space for those invited to the meeting. Mrs Andrews had provided sandwiches and cakes, and her teenaged daughter was helping her in providing teas, coffees, and squashes as people arrived. His staff, including Deputies Andrew Charles and Ifan Jones, Mrs Andrews and her daughter, Ms Smith the administrative assistant, along with several chaperones from the Hotel, were milling around making light conversation with new arrivals.

Jonas waited until people had settled, and were all sat down around the tables. He stood up to address them all.

Wednesday daytime, and Jonas sends out personal telegraphs to the following people, either to their own residences, or addressed privately via the Hotel:
Santiago de la Vega
Simon Belgrave
Julian MacKallister
Benjamin Simoneaux
Daisuke Shimada
Missy Lee
Jonathon Stanton

The message reads:

'The Acting Sheriff of this town, Mr Jonas Wilder hereby invites you to an informal meeting to take place on this Sunday the 26th of October. The meeting will commence at 6pm in the Sheriff's Office. This meeting is to gather together a consultancy of sorts to discuss ongoing and current reports of unusual activity received by the Office.

Light refreshments will be available, and appropriate chaperones will also be in attendance.

Please feel free to bring along any persons you may feel will assist. Your help and assistance in these matters would be much appreciated.'

Jonas also talks to his staff, including new employee Leo Coleman, to inform them of the upcoming meeting, and to request their attendence also.

Ben was waiting for some glass to cool, so he sat out in front of his shop, legs dangling over the railing as he lit his cigarette. He had a pale red welt on his cheek from a burn and his hair was a mess, but he looked pretty damned perky all things considered. When someone passed by he smiled and offered, "Good day."