EVENT LOG: LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: november 5-7.
content: use that bonfire!
warnings: n/a. please cw tags appropriately.

maybe we can bring back the light

Shortly after Robin's network post, a magnificent display of fireworks will start to launch from the lighthouse! They're odd-looking, though, given that they glow but don't cast light. But still cool to watch! The best place to view the show is at the beach, but some of the bigger explosions can be seen just over the treetops from town, and they can certainly be heard from all over Beacon. Exciting! Maybe! Robin sure thinks so! The fireworks will continue for a couple of hours before a very colorful grand finale, after which the lighthouse beam will shine red again for the duration of the event.

Meanwhile, back in town, Rastus has set up a magnificent display of his own. Torches are set up in a wide circle around the bonfire (which looks a bit less bright, given how many torches he's pulled from it), ready for the taking. You don't even have to talk to him first! He's lingering nearby, though, and... has looked more excited about things in the past. This is gonna be a bookkeeping nightmare, he can tell.

In any case, the torches are free for the taking, but do remember to report any torch movement to the event header on the item requests page. Don't let Rastus's fears become reality!

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Comments

[worthallthis]

"My experience is skewed," the Soldier allows. "Trying to learn differently. Hasn't been bad." Hard, but not bad. There's so many people here they'd call "good", or at least "not bad".

It has... they have... another puff on the cigarette, and ask, "Tell me about some of your good people? From your home." The lights are still changing outside, but between the talk and the smoke, it's getting a little better in its brain. Slowly. More distraction is obviously needed.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"I never thought about other worlds before waking up here and meeting all of you," Stone admits. "It's fascinating to think about. My world is so full of diversity. What would other worlds be like, that's even different from what I know?"

He says it with a smile, looking up at the stars, beyond the fireworks.

"If I ever do see my family again, I'm telling them to have the groundlings start looking for other planets out there," he adds. "I'm sure there's a people clever enough to figure something out." He doesn't have much hope for seeing his family again, of course, but it's still a thought.

[callada]

Law, he wants to say. Almost says, as he feels his heart ache in his chest. Hopefully the boy has moved on with his newfound health and freedom. Maybe he'll be a famous doctor some day, now. But if not, that's okay too.

"My father," he says instead, for he has already decided to tell these people that the Fleet Admiral was his father and will remain consistent in that lie. "Fleet Admiral of the Marines for much of my life. Busy man, with a lot of pressure and a lot of hard decisions to make. He's the wisest person I've met and everything he does is with the aim of keeping the world stable and safe for innocent people."

And has Sengoku made poor calls? Sure, in his opinion. He disagrees with some of his actions. But maintaining justice isn't easy and ultimately, people have prospered under Sengoku's leadership of the Marines. He's well-respected by everyone who isn't part of that criminal element they're always struggling against.

"Others, too, in the Marines. People I've trained with and worked under. We're all devoted to that same cause of serving justice as best we can."

[worthallthis]

Someone in authority is one of Rosinante's good people. That's unexpected. It's strangely uncomfortable to consider, that someone who gives orders-- someone who isn't in Beacon, and thus in a category all their own-- who isn't a completely awful person. The Soldier tries to imagine working under a handler like that, in life, and struggles with it. Maybe it would be like Inspector Javert, a little, only Javert might disapprove of all the killing, so that wouldn't work, either. (And of course, Misty doesn't count, being only a handler on technicality.)

"What hard decisions?" it asks after a moment of silence, digesting the thought process and frowning softly, and another smoke.

[callada]

It's a nice thought, getting to go speak to family and friends again, not that he has many of either. The sort of poisonous thought that latches on and gives false hope. They're dead, there's no way they're going back home and to wish otherwise is like allowing a wound to fester.

"Doctor Ingram talks about building a ship that can fly sometimes," he says. "Fly in that, up there, between the stars." He's seen it through Will's memories, in fact. A vision that was hard to understand, and painful due to the violent nature of the man's death, but incredible.

"Seems like it would take a lot of time, though. Materials and expertise we don't have. But wouldn't it be incredible?"

[callada]

"The sorts of things any leader has to decide. When multiple kingdoms have problems with raiders and pirates, who do you prioritize protecting? How many men do you send? How do you let your only son enlist, knowing that out there in the world, Marines die every day?"

Not that he thinks that was even Sengoku's hardest decision to make. He's only one person, after all. Countless lives rest on his shoulders. Entire kingdoms. Flevance, wiped off the map because they couldn't, or didn't, help except to safeguard the royal family while its people were slaughtered.

But those kinds of decisions aren't ones he can offer insight on. Surely there was a reason.

1

[lunchbreaks]

Aziraphale is laughing along with Rosinante up until the point where he isn't.

"Rosinante!" he exclaims, coming over to inspect his hand. "Do be careful, please. Are you alright?" If allowed, he'd take Rosinante's hand into both of his and apply a little healing, which wouldn't heal him all the way but at least get him through the painful bits of a burn.

[worthallthis]

"Protecting." The Soldier has two very different concepts of that: protection means keep people alive, when the mission is to protect, or when it's the Sergeant talking; protection means killing someone (or killing thousands) to "save" millions, when in the mouth of a handler. If Rosinante's father-commander was a good person, then it was probably the former, right? He would have to be.

The Soldier shakes itself a little. "You enlisted. On purpose. Are you glad you did?"

[callada]

"Fine," he says almost automatically, but before he can continue to brush it off as nothing, he watches, mystified, as Aziraphale takes his hand and the bright red mark of the burn fades slightly, taking some of the sting with it.

"That's... Wow. Thanks," he comments, as he turns his hand to inspect it, then stoops to pick up the torch. "Just like that, huh?" Not fully fixed, but obviously better. Magical healing! From an actual angel!

"You know, used to burn myself all the time at home. Harder to do that here. I coulda used your help," he says, smiling. Never in his life would he have thought an actual guardian angel might be a real kind of thing.

[lunchbreaks]

"Yes, well, I wasn't really allowed to do this kind of thing at home," he responds, shyly. He won't tell Rosinante that he used to be much better at it-- fixing broken bones, getting rid of burns. Bringing anything back from the dead was honestly quite trivial to do.

"It would have upset God's plans, I think. So... I like to use them here as much as I can," he answers. "To help." He inspects Rosinante's hand one more time and then smiles up at him -- all the way up -- and goes to retrieve the torch.

[callada]

"I am."

What the hell else would he have done? His life was never going to be a normal one. Besides, Sengoku had been proud, even if he'd worried deep inside. Up until Rosinante met Law, he hadn't really pictured doing anything else. And in those last few weeks, he hadn't put much time to thinking about future career moves when they would have been spending every day just trying to survive on the run. Doesn't much matter now, though.

"I looked up to my old man so I always had it in my head that I'd follow in his footsteps. Anything to make the world a better place for those who can't defend themselves."

[callada]

"Well, I appreciate it," he says, then turns to resume walking and gestures for Aziraphale to follow. He has plans for this torch, but they can talk about mysterious god plans along the way.

"Good to know, too. It seems we've been short on medics and doctors of any sort since we lost our first two."

[worthallthis]

"What all did you do there. In the Marines." Because that doesn't admittedly sound much like HYDRA. Even his definition of "protection" didn't seem to care a whole lot about making the world better for the defenseless. It seems more like what the army was doing in the war. Maybe. What little bit they remember about the war. They're... curious.

[callada]

What didn't they do, really? He's never had to explain the entire organization to someone before. Most here just nod and shrug and compare it to their own world's military forces without question. At home, everyone knows what they do, naturally. He's never had to put together a thirty second speech. But he knows all the facts well and answers quickly despite that initial second of surprise at even being asked.

"We're the World Government military branch," he says as he takes his cigarette between his fingers and watches the stars. "Main task is to ensure peace and stability. Pirates are vicious and abundant, always trying to steal cargo or hold entire cities for ransom. Kidnapping, murdering, human trafficking, whatever turns a profit, they'll try it. Some are just out there to cause chaos and violence for the hell of it, and some are a lot more organized. We exist to protect the civilians from all that so they can live their lives."

And it feels like an uphill battle sometimes, he won't deny it. When pirates get organized into entire armadas, or build underground black market networks like the one his brother ran, it's less like fighting wild animals and more like waging war. But if they didn't do it, if they just let pirates stomp all over whoever they liked for the sake of profit and anarchy, he can't even imagine the kind of hell the world would become.

[lunchbreaks]

"Did we? Who were they?" he asks, blinking. "And I'm-- really not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination. Used to be a better healer, it's this place," he explains.

He keeps going, wanting to see where Rosinante wanted their walk to go.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier nods slowly. Doesn't sound like the army or HYDRA... well, the Marines don't, anyway. The pirates sound a little more familiar. "The ones who kept me. HYDRA. I think they were like your pirates. The organized kind. Weren't very interested in letting civilians live their lives." It frowns, thinking hard, and comes up with, "Wanted to run them. I think."

[callada]

Well, healer, doctor, same results even if the methods are different. Maybe. Maybe it's unfair to call them similar, it isn't as if he knows the first thing about magical healing. This is the first time he's ever encountered it.

"Just good to have on hand. I got here alongside two medics from Earth. Irwin Wade, and Gene Hicks. Both from America, I think they said. Fought in some enormous war." Died there, too. Died here soon after. Poor guys. He misses Wade in particular; the man was a pleasant roommate. And he's grateful that he and Hicks had managed to patch up their differences before the man was lost to the spirits' assault.

He adjusts the bag over his shoulder, more full than usual, as they walk west. Extra rope, extra paint, in case these strange dark-loving plants have grown in thicker since the time he and Cao Pi came out this way. He makes his way toward the river, heading upstream.

[callada]

"Hydra's a mythological monster, isn't it?" he asks, turning his head toward Soldat. "Can't remember what that is. But - I guess it's not important. They held you prisoner?"

He has so many questions, but one at a time.

[worthallthis]

"They made me." Or this version of it, anyway. There was a Before... but Before doesn't matter as much right now. It stares hard at the cigarette. "Gave me orders, missions, put me back in cryofreeze after."

[callada]

"Sorry," he says, for he can't imagine that experience was a pleasant one. Even if at the time Soldat might not have questioned it, for if that's how he was born and all he knew, then perhaps it was tolerable then. It sounds like things must have changed at some point.

"What kinds of missions?"

[worthallthis]

Has anyone... actually apologized for HYDRA before? It seems counter-productive. HYDRA isn't sorry, so why would anyone else being sorry have anything to do with it? The Soldier decides not to wrestle with that, and just gives the answer to Rosinante's question instead. "Assassinate, hunt down deserters, retrieve items. Sometimes protect important members of HYDRA. Train others I think." That one is less protocol-certainty, and more know-but-don't-remember. The Soldier has another long pull from the cigarette, which is almost gone, dammit. "Mostly assassinate, though."

ii

[onlyeverdoubted]

Edgy himself but as collected as he ever gets, Bodhi is taking himself on a bit of a tour. He's entirely too shy to move any torches himself. No doubt the instructions were for people who've lived here a while (is lived the right verb?) and know what they're doing. But the town does look just a little different by the light of more than his little lantern. Knowing full well he doesn't care much for fireworks, he's been staying busy on a slow, ambling stroll, focusing hard on just taking in the landscape.

Soldat already registers as one of the few verifiably friendly presences, which says a lot about Bodhi, perhaps. He's comprehensible and seems to have only good intentions. And the arm is sort of intriguing. No one would wear such an obvious prosthetic openly at home. Cybernetic augmentation is so widely perceived as... icky. He has to admire the confidence it must take. So he looks up in the soldier's direction if not exactly in the eye and nods. "Hello."

[worthallthis]

See, this is why you're considered a relatively safe guy, Bodhi. No eye contact right off the bat. Good job. The Soldier glances his direction, right back, from where they're making sure the torch they placed is at a good angle for lighting up both the living room and kitchen of Aziraphale and Crowley's cabin, and even has a little smile in greeting. (Not a big one; big smiles are like big guns, and only come out when absolutely necessary-- usually on accident.) "Hey. Did you get a torch?"

Not everyone did, but it's worth an ask. Also, what is small talk? Getting straight to the point is better.

[scarsolderthanyou]

That does sound pretty incredible. "I'd like to see that." Stone considers, then adds, "Maybe not use it. I'm not sure you'd want to make anything big enough for my other form to fit on it." Anything less than that would feel much too small, he's sure. "My ancestors made a ship... thing. Docked on a big spinning machine. We destroyed it on accident, but it would have been interesting to see what it could do, if we hadn't."

[onlyeverdoubted]

Bodhi's not an easy smiler, and he doesn't return that one at the moment. "N-no, I didn't think I... I've been fine." Clearly it'd make life easier, but it's just as clear that things are fine as they are for him. He's already got a house and there seem to be plenty of those. He certainly doesn't need some of a finite quantity of usable light.