logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DREAMERS)

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DREAMERS)

characters: all characters that signed up as a dreamer for the event.
location: dreamland feat. beacon of the past.
date/time: november 16-29.
content: the dreamers investigate beacon as it once was.
warnings: psychological/existential horror. further cws will arise depending on the location; mods will cw tags appropriately, and you will too!

say your prayers, little one.

Hello, dreamers. Welcome to Beacon.

Below, each group has a toplevel ready and waiting for the investigation to begin. Feel free to tag in however to establish a tag order, and mod responses will begin once each character has tagged in. If you need a refresher on how the event will work, give the OOC info another read!

As for those of you in the ~~sin bin~~ opt out area...

The Beacon of the past isn't all too different from the Beacon of the present, frankly, except for a few notable exceptions. For one, it's far better lit: daylight leaves everything feels a lot brighter and more sensible than eternal night does. Several advertisements for community theater in the Invincible are hung up (Tryouts for the Ice Man Cometh! Cometh try your luck!) and minor lost and found posters are tacked to a community bulletin board nearby. Oh, and a merry little tune is playing on loop from a record player set up outside the Invincible.

It's cheerful, if not a little off-putting. But the signs of life are clear, even if the forest still looks darkly oppressive over yonder.

Additionally, since investigation threads 1) rely on mod responses, and 2) will likely move on the slow side given the nature of the event/size of the groups, if you would like to have your characters "mingle" in their assigned location, please feel free to write your own toplevels! We ask that you post them as separate toplevels not in response to the mod toplevels (so our inboxes don't get super flooded/we don't accidentally miss stuff). Remember that groups may only interact with each other during the event, but you're welcome to assume timey-wimey shenanigans to excuse why your characters are mingling instead of searching for clues—they do have two weeks in this dream, technically, and dreams are not always linear. If your investigation thread has not yet progressed to a point in which you've got enough of a handle on the setting to write a separate mingle starter, ask the mod you're working with! We'll fill you in on some OOC details so you can mingle accordingly while still allowing for characters to discover those details ICly in the investigation thread.

If you're still jonesing for more threading action during the event, we encourage you to check out the TDM!

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[There's a concept called liminal space, which goes something like this: any space that is normally occupied by a multitude of people will, when empty, feel very off-putting. There's no real reason for it: one knows, logically, that schools and offices and yes, even museums, must be empty at some point, and yet the uneasiness remains. It's your more animalistic instincts, see: they look at all that open space and say that if others are gone-- if the herd has fled-- perhaps you ought to as well, just in case . . .

The museum is empty, and your footsteps echo very loudly as you walk through it.

In part, it looks much like it normally does, although given their disorientation, the familiar might take a tinge of the unknown, off-putting and eerie. Shadows loom as the dreamers raise their lanterns, and while they may hear little noises, surely that's all in their own head.]

[ The sound of her heels sound less like shoes hitting polished floor and more like a herd of buffalo, but that noise furthest thing from Midge's mind. She doesn't remember going to sleep and actually waking up here just like she doesn't quite remember the exact moment of her death--the town 2, Midge 0. Time to look for a reception desk, check out any fliers or see if there's any maps of the place. ]

Hello?

[ Voice raised, high but pleasant. Not that she believes in ghosts (or does she?) but she doesn't want any trouble. ]

Am I hallucinating or is this place actually real?

Hello?

[Mary calls back as she wakes, rubbing her eyes. She doesn't remember falling asleep. Doesn't remember leaving the square at all. When Mary raises her lantern from where sits, it feels like shadows are coiling, bending down to stare down at her. She stares back. This should be scarier, especially for a child, but it only fills her wit a sad sense of nostalgia.

Raising on shaking legs, she brushes off her skirt.]

I see it, too. But I'm not sure where it is that we are.

[She doesn't recognize it, yet, being so empty.]

[While Jo is no stranger to being in places when they're empty, this is far too uncomfortable. That's because she doesn't know how she got here. She feels like she would remember getting here.

She hears others, but it feels like there's another noise she can't place.]

I think it's real. [Part of it feels familiar. She can't place it either.]

What can you see?

[Nothing much for a while, frankly, is all that different. But sooner or later, if the ladies move forward, they'll see a new exhibit being advertised just down a wing. It's all dark, of course, but if they lift their lanterns, they should be able to see some graffiti spray painted on the walls nearby.

SHAM!

LIAR!

OUR BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS! BETRAYER!]

[ On one hand, she's with a girl that doesn't look too nervous--just uncomfortable--so Miriam adapts that attitude as well. It's not her first rodeo and it is Midge's, so it's time to defer to the more experienced attitude.

On the downside, there's a girl. Just a little girl, and Midge can't help but think of her own, even if the girl here's much older than hers. She'll still offer a hand to hold as they approach the new exhibit. After brushing her hand on the graffiti to see if it's fresh or not, the words striking a mild sense of she'll glance over at Jo and then move her gaze towards the entrance of the exhibit.

After you, calm one. ]

I'm Miriam, by the way. Just in case we die here you might as well know my name. [ Quickly, to Mary: ] Not that we're going to die. We're going to be fine, sweetie. It's a joke.

[Mary darts forward to eagerly grab onto Miriam's hand. Perfect strangers up until now or not, she's happy to hold on tightly and cling steadfastly to her side. For now, at least.]

My name's Mary.

[And she's not worried about dying--though she decides not to say so, because last time she did someone got mad at her, so she looks at the graffiti instead, reading it out loud.]

I wonder who they're talking about...maybe we can find out!

[Testing the limits of her reach while she stays attached to Miriam, she looks around to see if she can find more information about the exhibit itself, or what it was intended to be.]

[Jo isn't sure about that. Still, she knows the girl has been here for a bit. She remembers seeing her at the town hall meeting.]

I'm Jo. Do we really want to find out who's responsible for someone's blood on their hands?

[Well, they might actually. She shrugs, turning to the other two. It might give them something to go on.]

Let's stick together.

So the ladies stick together, as they wander towards the exhibit. It seems fairly straightforward: your standard museum exhibit, somewhat plain but clearly put together by someone who tried their hardest. It's a shame how wrecked it's been: signs are torn and there's more paint on the walls, smearing over the detailed plaques . . . it's as though a mob went through here.

But a few things remain. Ahead: an exhibit still intact, which includes a strange stone. An almost untouched plaque that seems to have a few pertinent facts. And a window, which seems to be looking out at something . . .

Who wants to look at what?

Good plan. [ Sticking together, she means. Midge looks up and over, and her brow arches at everything. ]

You've all been here longer than me. What's the usual procedural for 'waking up after turkey dinner in a completely different place?' [ She's already making her way towards the plaque. The logical choice, she thinks, for gathering information. She still holds Mary's hand, but will let her stray if she wants. ]

[Mary sticks by Midge's side up until she sees a very special stone. In which case she's darting for it. Special! Special! Rock for Mary! Please oh lovely Kit, enlighten her with the fine details.]

There isn't one. [It's a distracted comment as she pulls away.

Jo's attention is drawn to the window. She does want to see the statue, but something feels very off.

It's only when she actually reaches the window that it hits her. Daylight. There's light.

Her lantern is still in hand, so she's relatively sure they're still in Beacon. This isn't right.]

Um. What do you two see?

[Mary, racing towards the rock, will see that it's a chunk of plutonium, different than the one M.K. has been touting about town. It's particularly vibrant, and absolutely a prize worth finding.

Midge, on the other hand, finds part of a plaque. Bits are painted over, but she can still see the majority:

19██ Dr. M███████████, our local famous scientist, whose contributions towards both science and understanding more about our world have led to a great deal of comfort within our community. What will she discover next?

And finally, Jo looks out the window to see a statue of a woman standing in the courtyard. It's very well done, even if bits of her have been chipped off. But perhaps more importantly: it's lit up by the twilight rays of the sun.

[ A woman scientist? Damn, she must have her shit together. May as well read it aloud: ]

"19-something: Dr. M-whosits, our local famous scientist, whose contributions towards both science and understanding more about our world have led to a great deal of comfort within our community. What will she discover next?"

Probably that people were unhappy with her. [ No one's looking at her, but she motions with her hands anyway. She's definitely going to touch a finger to the plaque to see if it's dried or recent. Dried. ]

Apparently they didn't like her for a while. I can't think of another reason they covered her name up.

[Mary...has no idea what plutonium is. Still, she really likes this rock, and gestures toward it with gleaming eyes.]

She must have found this really pretty rock! I've never seen anything like it before...I wonder if it's a gem? A special gem? But why would that be something bad?

[Jo can't see much about the statue, but the fact that she can see it at all is confusing her. She turns away from the window, looking back toward the other two.]

Just because something is pretty doesn't mean it's good, Mary. [But, that's not her focus right now.]

Something's off. Come here. [She gestures toward the window with her head.]

[It's a slow sunset, fortunately, which means the girls have plenty of time to look at the last rays. They can even go out and get some warmth, although they'll have to hurry. But far more importantly: the plaque on the base of the statue seems unpainted.

They can just make out the words: Dr. Maridel Solis]

[Mary hesitates, but her pace picks up as she approaches the window. She's silent for maybe a bit too long as she stares wide-eyed outside, and the statue isn't at all the object of her attention. In a hushed voice, she asks:]

Is that sunshine?

I think it is. [Honestly, she isn't completely convinced this is a crappy dream.

A dream doesn't explain why these two are with her. Or why they have their lanterns. Or why she's dreaming about Beacon with sunlight and not home.]

We should go outside.

It's sunshine, and what's better: it's sunshine that will last. No matter how long it takes them to get outside, they'll get at least fifteen minutes of pure sunshine. It's bright, honestly. Brighter than sunset usually is. And warm? Unnaturally warm for this time of year. But whatever! Are they really going to complain about too much sun?

Maybe they should.

The light will grow brighter and brighter, til it's hard to see. Til it hurts to see, searing, white-hot and overwhelming, but if they try and head back to the museum, they'll find themselves locked out. They have to face the sun, pupils dilating in a desperate attempt to compensate, tears long since burned away, blinded--

--and sooner or later, that's how the dream ends. With the memory of the sun on their skin, overwhelming them.

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EVENT LOG: ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DREAMERS)

THE MUSEUM

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