logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

characters: everyone.
location: bonfire square, around town.
date/time: october 30-31.
content: the spirits stage a play! and then the thefts begin...
warnings: none. just mischief.

you're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight

It's probably something you're used to by now: waking up to some new, strange thing suddenly appearing somewhere around town. This time it's a ramshackle stage sitting prominently in the center of the square. It's complete with benches and a haggard-looking red curtain, and it's clear by the amount of forest spirits milling and fussing around it that they're the ones responsible. For most of the day, the spirits seem concerned only with attracting as many people as possible, trying to herd them into the seats. But as the moon rises, the performance finally begins.

There's an awkward shuffling behind the curtain before it lifts, revealing a very crude set made of actual branches used as trees. Various pieces of junk have been shined up and stuck to the back wall to serve as the night sky. In the midst of it all stand several spirits holding very small torches taken from the Bonfire. Sticks, really, placed inside empty cans with holes punched in them and rusted wires for handles. These spirits wave their "lanterns" about for the benefit of the audience before miming the act of walking across the stage without actually going anywhere. From somewhere above them, a pair of long arms descends to shake the "trees" on either side; seems the Postmaster General wanted to lend their talents to the cause.

The protagonists of this pantomime talk amongst themselves, in the chirps, hoots, and whistles that make up their language. They motion to one another, pointing at things and conferring before finally nodding and, apparently, continuing on whatever "journey" they're supposed to be on. This goes on for a few minutes before another set of players enter the stage— or at least reveal themselves.

Perhaps a few eagle-eyed viewers have spotted them already, but the second group of spirits pops out of the set itself. One detaches itself from a "tree", one drops from the poorly-painted sky, and two more emerge from where they've been hiding behind the foliage. These spirits are holding prop lanterns, too, though theirs are shielded, giving off very little light. But their most notable feature is that they're wearing animal masks; a deer, a fox, a raccoon, and a rabbit for the tallest one. These aren't the masks that make up their faces, they're extras, seemingly tied on over their own.

As the second group jumps up, the first reacts with emphatic shock, and then a brief scuffle ensues. In the chaos, the animal-masked spirits make off with the others' lanterns, dashing away and off the stage. The original few begin to wail, to writhe, to clutch at their throats, and then, ultimately, to fall very over-dramatically to the floor. Other spirits sneak out to drag them out of view, but that isn't quite the end of the performance.

A spirit dressed in a cloak and garish feathers stomps onto the stage with a wooden beak affixed to its face. In one hand it holds a full-sized torch as it waves its fake wing-arms around and tries to squawk. Suddenly, the masked— double masked? spirits arrive again, grabbing the feathered creature, snatching the torch, and tossing the poor feathered spirit to the ground. Victorious, they hoot loudly, and then rush offstage once more. (Probably to return those torches before Rastus has a fit.)

Finally, the Postmaster General, done with their role as the entire set, unfurls a banner from the eaves. Clearly courtesy of the Librarian, it reads, in smeared black paint: BWAR FIRE SNACTHERS!!! with two X-ed out bonfires on either side.

And... that's it, apparently. The forest spirits all gather back on stage to bow before starting to dismantle the set. But their strange cautionary tale isn't over, oh no. It's time for a more personal demonstration. They've got to send home the message. Literally.

Throughout the night and the following day, things start to go missing. Perhaps even out of their owner's hands. Chase the spirits down for your stuff, hold someone else's things for ransom, or just break down and cry in your room because life is unfair— the choice is yours! Just let this be a reminder to heed what the spirits said: beware the Fire Snatchers.

Whatever those are.

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"Dunno. I tried to ask Robin about them but she said she didn't know much about their motivations either. You know, you would think if someone had really been here for twenty years, she would have tried to learn."

Ultimately, they'll have to get that information from the spirits themselves, making it all the more important they learn to talk to the things. Robin has shown herself repeatedly to be useless for a variety of reasons, whether intentionally or not.

Ugh. Exactly. Useless, possibly deliberately, either way of no help to them when they're trying to stay "alive." Cao Pi grumbles and looks around, in case any other spirits are out there just waiting for their chance to zip in and snatch something else easy to grab. "You would think," he echoes in annoyance. "For all we know, after twenty years she's gone mad. That would mean anything she says or does is simply a whim."

"Sure. She probably has, by some definitions. She might also not really have been up there for so long, but who's around now to question it?"

Frustrating. Anyway, wondering about Robin's knowledge isn't much use if she won't share it. It always comes down to finding things out themselves, or making another go at taking the lighthouse by force.

"Anyway, I guess we have to play along for now. I'm going to see about getting that bridge we found fixed up. You're welcome to lend a hand."

Yeah, Rosinante is right, and he knows it. Cao Pi just sighs again and tries to stretch his legs in those jeans. Ugh. Modern people. "Oh, are you? It's a good idea, but...I'm not much for manual labor. Why not put the upstarts to work? At least one of them is keen on atoning for his mistake."

"Soldat? I think he's busy rebuilding what he broke, and I'm happy to let him keep doing it. I have a few others who said they'd be interested if I went out. Just thought you might like to be one of the first to see what's on the other side."

Might be enticing, who knows. Something about an emperor like Cao Pi doing manual labor is just the sort of irony he lives for. And the guy can fight, so it's not like he doesn't have the strength, he just doesn't want to because it's beneath him, probably. And here he'd thought some of that arrogance might have faded in the months they've been here. Ah, optimism.

Yeah it's really too soon to expect any sort of humility from this one. Cao Pi shakes his head slightly. "I can suffer not being the first. I should like to say that I have more important things to be doing but frankly, I'm not sure where my efforts currently stand after the last couple of weeks. I need to take stock of everything."

It's not a lame excuse, really. He's been thrown off his stride and now the missing sword (and pants) aren't helping him get it back. He manages a sort of nod in Rosinante's direction. "Your proactive efforts are much better use to this place than mine. Do as you must."

Empty words followed by mild flattery. Well, it's to be expected, really, and he doesn't outwardly show any sign of disappointment. Yeah, all right, make your excuses about how you have to do some all-important nothings. It's fine. Who knows, maybe something will even come of it.

"You're better in touch with a lot of people here than I am, I think," he admits. "I keep busy, but mostly work on my own projects. Have you heard anything recently about anything anyone else is working on? Any efforts to deal with the problem at large?" Since making friends with spirits is fine and all until they all get eaten anyway.

It is in fact how he do...although it's not entirely empty. Cao Pi really is uncertain where his efforts stand, and Rosinante's question brings it even more sharply into focus. "I've observed some of the Inspector's training sessions," he replies, "but otherwise, no. If it hasn't been publicly reported then I have no idea of the status of anything. My own efforts are falling woefully short." He makes a sour face. "I had a dreadful feeling that the positive strides made at the meeting would fall flat once it was over, but I didn't want to be a pessimist."

He nods and thinks on it a moment. Yeah, it's a shame. But this really is a group of strangers from across the universe, not a cohesive unit of any sort. The survivors of that first attack by the spirits have a lot of motivation to provide organized safety and protection plans, but also to work together in general. Each month, more people arrive who don't have the experiences of past groups, and each month it gets harder to keep them all facing forward and thinking of their limited future.

"They don't have the training and discipline we do. Some, sure, but not the group as a whole. Not sure how to solve that." Not without a leader to keep them all in line, and not without regular meetings to check on progress, and the general sense he gets is that most people aren't much in favor of either of those things.

His thoughts exactly, though he doesn't share them. No one else needs to know his inner frustrations, he's already been vulnerable enough. Shaking his head, Cao Pi pushes himself to his feet in order to stretch. These pants, man. "We're short on time to sit around and think about it," he grumbles. "Particularly when we keep suffering setbacks and distractions like this. If I were more suspicious I would think they don't want us to succeed."

Despite really wanting to just sit here for a while and grouse at everything with Rosinante, it's not getting him any closer to finding his sword. So, private session appreciated but it doesn't seem to be much help. "Where else could all these bastards be hiding...?"

They are short on time. He and Cao Pi have been here four months, give or take. Robin and Dr. Ingram had suggested they might have two years in total. And so far they've done very little to prepare. That's fine, if they had a plan to get started on the real work soon, but nobody does.

"The spirits probably don't want us to succeed," he suggest, though he's not sure he believes it fully. They might not want much of anything. Robin didn't think they were here in this world when the world had light. They may well be here to keep the darkness intact.

They probably don't want anyone to succeed in finding Cao Pi's pants, either, but he's somehow less sure what to do about that. "We could split up. Meet up in half an hour. See if they're storing them in any of the buildings close by."

Might as well start with an actual plan. "Yes. Check the buildings for any sign of their coming and going." Assuming they leave any, which just makes him privately annoyed with himself for not doing the most basic research into whether spirits leave tracks or have real bodies. "Half an hour, then."

He gestures one way to suggest Rosinante can take that side of town while he trudges off the other way. Working with the Bonfire and the stage as the center, they should have more or less similar territory to cover.

Do they leave signs of coming and going? Rosinante isn't entirely sure. Sometimes he sees little dirty footprints around, but only if it's rained recently. In this case, they might be out of luck unless he chances across an opened door or some tracked sand. Still, it's a good suggestion.

So he sets off, watching for movement if nothing else. The spirits dashing to and fro are just as good a clue, and at one point he sees one dart through the periphery of his vision with what looks like someone's shoes. But he loses track of where it went after, finding it far too difficult to track the little things in the dark.

Still, he sorts through the east side of the town as well as he can. There are still a few empty buildings here that have never been converted into anything maintained, which all seem like good hiding spots, but when he returns, he does so empty-handed.

"No luck, I'm afraid."

Cao Pi saw plenty of the same activity on his end, since he passed closed to the Invincible and there were quite a few thieves making off from there with anything not nailed down. It confirms what's going on but not at all where they're going with it. He returns to the rendezvous with a sigh. "Nor on my end. They're extremely quick and good at disappearing. Just when I thought I had one cornered, it would elude me. Apparently, I'm not fast enough to catch any of them in the act."

But, he did pause a moment to grab a fresh piece of string or cord somewhere and tie up his hair, so there's that.

"Guess you'll have to make do," he says with a shrug. "For now, anyway. Maybe it's worth changing things up, trying new fashions."

There's a bit of a smirk there that suggests he's teasing, even if his tone is completely deadpan. But he does think it's not a bad idea. The guy sticks out stubbornly like a sore thumb even worse than Rosinante himself does. The ancient emperor look is kind of cool, though, admittedly.

Cao Pi deadpans back but, really, he's not wrong. He would totally try some new fashions. If they weren't ugly and uncomfortable, that is. "I don't think anything in the store constitutes fashion. But, necessity brooks no argument, it's that or freeze." Which leads him on a path of thought that brings about a sniff and toss of his head. "This place must be hell, if we cannot freeze or starve to death but merely spend eternity in discomfort."

So melodramatic. Is that a poet thing? Probably.

"The clothes here are pretty plain. But they must be functional enough, especially for someone your size. You just have to learn to cope like the rest of us."

Now, to be fair, he's had his share of tailored clothing. It was a necessity, as his size at home isn't exactly a standard one even if taller people were more common there than here. But there's still something different about making sure his uniform fit so he didn't look sloppy versus being an emperor and having every item of clothing custom-made to suit whatever his unique preference of the day might be.

Joke's on Rosinante, his preference is all indigo all the time. That does bring up an interesting side note, and for once he deliberately looks his gigantic pal up and down top to bottom. Usually, he just ignores it the same as he doesn't bother calling attention to people shorter than him. "I expect you've had a much harder time of it." It's the closest to sympathy he can manage. "On the other hand, I don't feel like learning to fight in these constricting things is a good use of my time."

"That was really the only pair in your size?" They do look awfully tight, and while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, yeah. Probably not great for flexibility.

"Could always try to pick up sewing. I've been thinking about that. Still isn't easy when most things here aren't long or wide enough but for you, maybe it wouldn't be bad. You could cut up a skirt and sew it closed into legs." Cool, swooshy legs with fun fabrics, too. Honestly, he might have to try that if he ever sees fabric he likes. Surely he won't cut himself in the process and stab himself with the needle repeatedly, sew himself to the clothing, and then get tangled in the string trying to set the project down.

Yeah about that...

Cao Pi looks down with some faint chagrin. "I assumed so. I held them up..."

This man literally has no idea that jeans come in sizes based on measurements or even what his are. So maybe Rosinante's ideas about him and his special wardrobe are closer to right than not. Ahem. God, he hates being shown up, though, and simply makes a face. Anyone else and he'd sniff it off, dismissive and superior, but he and Rosi have chatted enough to allow him a brief flash of humility - a genuine look of "what do?"

Wait, wait wait.

"You held them up, looked at them, then just put them on and walked off even when they felt like they didn't fit? You didn't even try other ones?"

Zihuan goes rather tight-lipped, knowing he did the thing wrong. Bigtime wrong. "No..." and then quickly adding in his defense, "There weren't many. They looked mostly the same."

"Clothes come in different sizes, just like people. Can't always tell how they'll fit until you try them on. I've even noticed sometimes the ones they get in have numbers in them, like waist size."

Sometimes even a printed tag, which is pretty unusual to him, but certainly helpful. Maybe some worlds have the ability to mass-produce clothing in ways he's never seen.

Once he thinks it over he'll realize how smart that is, for people who don't have their clothes custom-made, but for now he's just going to sigh. "The modern world is a strange place to have to navigate. At least, I hope it's simply the modernity of it and not an entirely alien setting." But then, he's seen enough people coming in with these pants and other clothing exactly like that in the shop, so his guess is a rather educated one.

"I'd say both," he says with a shrug. "I've lost track of what counts as 'modern' anyway. Even the people who come from Earth say different things, like how some have magic and some don't."

And anyway, the ones who make mention of years give numbers that don't always make sense to him in context. Are they from the future, or did their year zero start some other time? He could probably sort it all out if he cared but it feels like there are more serious concerns.

"You want to go look for new ones? Pants, I mean." He could always use a second chance to dig through the stuff there himself. Maybe somehow he overlooked something he can make use of.

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