logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: JULY

INTRO LOG: JULY

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: july 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters, will, and rastus introduce themselves and explain the situation.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern that glows steadily with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••
Winters and Will are waiting for you on the beach. Winters flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. Will stands next to him, though he's monkeying with his tablet and looks rather bored. He barely looks up as Winters speaks:

"First thing's first: I'm sorry you're here. There's no easy way to break this news, so let's just get it over with, hm? You're dead. Or, ah, you've died. Call this the afterlife if you want, or don't if that ain't your thing, but point is, you're here 'cause you died. Those are the facts.

This world's dead, too. You've noticed by now it's pretty dark, yeah? That's 'cause there's no life here, not anymore. And that lantern you've got? That's your life, so to speak. The flame goes out, you die, and vice versa. Keep it close. Should be easy enough to remember on account of how the sun don't rise. You'll need something to see by.

This place is called Beacon, and that's Lake Red Jacket. Town's 'bout a mile down the road, and we've got a bonfire there, but that's the only other light you'll see in this place. Save for the moon and all, though the sky won't do you much good out in the woods. I'll let Rastus explain the bonfire to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and this here's Will Ingr— What? For christ's sake, Dr. Will Ingram. Likes to think he's the brains of the operation, as you can see. If you've got questions about these tablets, he's your guy. Rastus tends to the fire, and you'll find him in town. He's married to his job in a way. And you may never've seen a person like him back wherever you came from, but don't make a big fuss over it. He's a nice fellow. Mind your manners.

The three of us are leftovers from past resets. We came here on that ferry just like you, but it's just us left now. 'Sides the Lighthouse Keeper, but it'll be a bit before you get to meet her. She's got control over the town, see, and if she ain't satisfied with a group's performance, they get the axe. Town gets reset. If she pulls a reset on you folks, a couple of you might end up like me and Will here, giving this speech to the next crop."

The red beam of the lighthouse pulses over the group, over the trees. Winters glances up to watch it swing out over the bay.

"But don't hold it against her. Ain't her fault we're in this mess, and we've all got a job to do, including you.

For now, concentrate on accepting your lot, yeah? We're here to answer your questions, but we ain't gonna tell you all there is to know just yet. Some things are best learned on your own, and some of it we just don't want to saddle you with yet. There's a limit to how long we can stay here safely, that's true, but thing is, we do got time. Time enough to play this smart. Do better than the folks before us did. Settle in, make peace, explore a bit if you're up for it. Use these first couple weeks to come to grips. You ain't gonna be any good to the town if you don't sort yourself out before worrying about what comes next.

So listen up: You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back, so all we've got is forward. Welcome to Beacon. Could be worse, yeah?"

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, all three NPCs will be available for chatting with, whether your character wants to make casual conversation or ask questions about all this. The headers on each NPC toplevel are there for easy reference as to what each of them are responsible for, but you're welcome to go to any NPC for whatever reason. You're welcome to assume your character has overheard any NPC conversation to learn more about the game. After the NPC threads have died down, we'll compile the info learned ICly and add it to the game history page. If your character would contribute something specific to the game history records, let us know!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock

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[He grins smugly, easily, over one shoulder at the sharp little what?! that he earns. However short-lived the victory is, he'll take it.

What's the point of a life-long friendship if they don't have plenty of blackmail material on hand? It isn't a oneway street, no matter how often Riku had wound up pushing all the right buttons as they'd grown up, and no matter how regularly he managed to tease Sora within an inch of his mortified life. Maybe it's low hanging fruit, choosing Kairi to needle him about- but then even that's as familiar as his favorite pair of shoes.

The two ends of fabric come apart and Sora feels the literal burden come off of his shoulders. Instead of nosing around after it he just leaves his haul for Riku to sift through- less a signal of his casual laziness than it is an extension of routine. The thing is, as far back as all of their adventures have gone Sora's always trusted Riku to be the one calling the shots. It's not that he didn't have his own ideas or even start competing for things as silly as naming privileges, but rather- around all of the world-saving, Sora's just an easy going boy. There's no put upon sigh when his friend calls back to him and instead, or when he mentions making a pulley. Sora was just going to suggest that one of them stand on the other's shoulders... but maybe that's just more reason for Riku to be the one calling the shots.

Sora crouches down and begins rummaging through Riku's bag in turn.
Rope is an easy enough thing to fish out.]

Did you find all this stuff in the general store?

[ What wouldn't Riku give to wipe that smug grin off Sora's mouth?
He tries not to speculate.

That's the thing about friends who have known each other their whole lives. They know all the ins and outs, the ways around each other's jigsaw edges, the chinks in the armor they may or may not wear around their hearts.

For as long as Riku can remember, Sora has had that way with people. Can find his way through some of the most labyrinthine of attitudes and touch a person's heart. He was the first to befriend Kairi. Riku doesn't quite remember when she first showed up on their island, just that she did and their lives were different from that day forward, and Sora had been the first to make her smile.

Maybe she smiled before then but that's what he remembers. ]

Mostly.

[ The first rope that Sora finds is what Riku takes, there's a spike driven into a support pillar that works well for the purpose of looping rope around it and through the holes on the middle of one side of the tarp. ]

Not enough there for what we need, far as building those boats go.

Yeah. I figured we'd have to salvage lots and get creative.

[The words come with a thoughtful little hum- as thoughtful as Sora is ever inclined to get where practical matters are concerned. The grey area is that there's something so natural about this, moving around Riku, working with rope and making something out of nothing, that his hands just seem to know what to do on their own.

Riku takes the cord and Sora straightens while he works- rests both hands on his hips as his head tips up towards the ceiling. There's an old screw sticking out a little higher up, definitely too high to reach on their own. But if they could hook a second rope around it then they cover they're making would stretch out in two directions. That's be enough for now at least.]

I got a couple axes and hammers, some other tools. It's weird 'cause there's no lights around, but there were plenty of things in the Invincible to cook with and stuff. For electricity.

[He's back at Riku's side when he begins to turn around, and it's with the tarp in hand. Sora had found a couple of rivet snaps while rummaging around and cut small holes inside the corners of the tarp before fitting the metal ring inside. That way when the rope passes through it, they won't have to worry about the pulling and tugging of the wind or something just ripping the rope right through the fabric.]

At least the raft'll be easier without all that stuff.

[ He moves with a certain ease. But Riku's always been like that, he's made things like this look easy nearly as long as it took for him to realize he was different enough from others to begin to pretend he wasn't. Some of it is feigned nonchalance, some of it just comes from practice.

Shared childhoods that went with the ebb and flow of water that touches the shores of their islands, sun-drenched memories engraved in the fibers of muscle and sinew, familiar with dozens of knots and the creak of rowboats on the waves. They built up the play island and a boathouse isn't that much different. ]

You noticed that too, huh? Even the darkness is different. Instead of being partnered with light, it's almost like...

[ There's nothing. Like it's swallowed up before it even has a chance to sprout into being.

Nothing throws light unless it comes from the bonfire, those candles in the church or their lanterns. The lighthouse, and that's it. It's like the concept of light isn't able to exist outside of these scant resources. This darkness smothers, and endlessly dry well with no bottom. ]

Do you think Winters knows anything about it and isn't saying?

[ Riku's fingertip finds the newly-installed rivet hole with a soft puff of breath. Useful.

There's no telling where the tarp's been, not that it stops him from tucking the edge of it between his teeth as he reaches up to get a firm hold on the support pillar, digging the side of his boot into a shallow groove that will have to serve by necessity as a foothold. One short grunt and he climbs towards the jutting spike, looping rope around it and the support pillar.

Getting the rope through the rivet hole without losing his grip on the pillar is a challenge, but he manages - barely - hooking a leg around the wood and steadfastly ignoring the uncomfortable roll of sweat climbing down his spine.

He probably should've ditched the jacket. ]

That too high? How's it look?

[This is where their difference of opinion comes into play- but he's not sure there's any avoiding it. Sora's seen the darkness a few times and even fallen deeply into it before, he's come to recognize the feel of it inside himself. But that's very different from Riku's understanding of it. They've never talked about the details, and maybe they never will; but even the way Riku sounds now. It's the difference between perception and experience maybe. He can hear what isn't said, that to Riku it feels like there isn't any light at all. But Sora is aware all the time of the lanterns they carry around and the bonfire that their lives revolve around. To him- it's a sign that the darkness isn't that complete after all. It would have snuffed all of that out if it could, right? If there's darkness in every heart, then Sora's come to believe that there's light in all of them too. Maybe Riku doesn't think they're partnered, this perpetual night and their small fires- but these candles are perpetual too. He doesn't need to relight it, or change to a longer wick, or add more oil. It's fragile, but just as endless.

Maybe it's the darkness that they're thinking of wrong.
Maybe the darkness is fragile too.]

I don't think so.
I mean, he's here to help us right?

[Riku starts to climb and Sora takes a step backwards to watch. It says something, that he doesn't hover underneath, waiting to catch him if he falls. He knows, after all, just how strong Riku really is. It's hard, he can hear the small puff of breath that comes out from between his teeth, but Riku does things that are hard all the time. He'll be okay. And besides, Sora's here to help.] Almost- almost- [They're words of encouragement as his friend leans forward, reaching for the jutting nail while holding himself up on mostly one leg. Encouragement that becomes a bright] Nice! That looks great!

Come on down, I'll put up the other one.

[He makes a small circle, squinting up at the point Riku'd reached, and the one he's certain he can get to with a little help of his own. It looks like a pretty straight line.]

But Rastus said this world wasn't always darkness. It just happened and then it never went away.

[ To Riku, this darkness doesn't feel like anything, it doesn't smell like anything. It's just there, swallowing up anything that may have otherwise thrown light, except for these rare things that manage to beat back the dark. He suspects even if his heart was taken, even that light would fail to penetrate the darkness, a hungry and voiceless thing. Maybe it's all in his lantern.

He's desperately curious and the need to understand raises some prickly questions considering his history involving a certain Seeker. How telling, that Sora concerns himself with whether this speaks of a concerning frailty in the darkness, the way he might worry that a stranger's misdeed might be an expression of their own suffering. ]

Yeah, but that doesn't mean he's without his own agenda.

[ Riku says nothing of the laughing warmth he keeps locked away in his chest when he drops heavily onto the floorboards, but Sora's encouragement always has a way of buoying in even the most mundane of challenges. ]

You sure about that? [ His hand falls onto his unruly brown hair, rumpling it further and jostling Sora as he tries to gauge the distance with the circle Sora makes with his hands. ] Need a boost up, half pint?

Edited 2019-07-31 10:55 (UTC)

[Even now, all this time later- taller and stronger and braver and wiser, he says that doesn't mean he's without his own agenda. And Riku doesn't need to say Ansem's name for Sora to hear it. There's no raised brand or pale scar looking back at him; the mark those experiences have left behind are on the inside- something Sora can feel in the quiet spaces where Riku's gaze travels. When his mouth might have opened but that it closes instead. He doesn't wear the guilt and shame as a shroud anymore, and that's a good thing he thinks. Because it doesn't change the past or augment their history- they are where they are now for lots of reasons, and Sora's okay knowing that some of those reasons are Riku's.

The floorboards creak beneath his weight as both feet come down hard, and instead of squinting back up at the ceiling Sora follows him with his head- content with the loose trajectory he's mapped out. But because he's let himself settle into the moment and the ease with which they fall into step with each other he misses Riku's hand coming down- tipping his head and whole body with it. Sora wobbles forward comically, a first time sailor trying to get his sea legs, before he recovers with an undignified-] Hey!

[He pays him back by jostling him with an elbow instead, a perpetual evening of the score.

Sora doesn't have to look down to know that there's a little ledge waiting there for him- that Riku's made a cradle of his hands. But before his friend bends down to plant his weight or backs up against the pillar for additional support, Sora reaches for both of his shoulders instead. Walking him forward a few steps only to let him go again, safely in position. This too is an extension of trust between them; it isn't simply that he expects that Riku won't let him fall, it's that he knows that the time he spends backing up to get a running start will click into place with the moment Riku's ready for him- squared up an prepared to lift.

He climbs out of one shoe only to tie the rope around it, a weight they'll need later. And kicks his other shoe off to parts unknown- skittering across the floor before it thuds into one wall. A world away, Sora's mother is sighing in frustration for the hundredth time.]

How much agenda can there be? [He says, picking up the thread of conversation as he looks behind him- then takes another two steps back.] He's died too. And he sounds just as stuck here as we are.

[With this distance between them Sora doesn't just step casually into Riku's hands. He comes running instead. The added momentum turns him into a small meteor as he pushes off, leaps, and lands heavily on his makeshift step- but that momentum was just what he needed. He uses it to push off a second time and as if he's still on a playground climbing across monkey bars, Sora's hand finds one of the overhead beams with a dull thud. Palm sweaty, his grip slips so he reajusts- legs swinging freely underneath him until. When he looks down again it's with a cheezy grin, where he dangles from the ceiling one handed.]

You were saying?

[ Volumes are spoken in the way Riku's all permissive silence, allowing Sora the opportunity to adjust where and how he stands ready, and he just goes along with it. Some of Sora's whims, Riku knows, are best rolled with like a strong trade wind pulls a boat towards the shore.

But there's an easy, lopsided, recklessly effective abandon to how Sora moves, it gets him to where he needs to be, nearly every time, and the journey from one point in the boathouse to dangling above with that smile on his face is something to behold.

Really - Riku's a good few seconds staring up, his mouth a little agape.

Then he smiles. On someone who doesn't smile often or for much of anyone or anything, it takes years off his expression, marks him still in that in-between space between a boy and a man. There's a laugh in his throat. ]

I stand corrected.

[ He says as he straightens up, planting one fist against his hip. ]

Get it done, Sora.

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INTRO LOG: JULY

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