logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: december 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. robin posts a bulletin.
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 glowing 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.

•••
The ferry has barely docked when everyone's tablets will ping: A new weekly bulletin has been posted!

...Aaaaaanyway, luckily for all the newcomers, the tablet and the town have some resources available for getting acquainted with their new situation! In fact, as soon as they're prompted to enter a network username, an app containing all sorts of useful welcome information will launch. Newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall as well, and everyone's welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes.

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! You've happened to come at a chaotic time, as we've just wrapped up a rather large event. Half the town was stuck in a dreamland version of past Beacon, where they explored for clues about the town's history. The other half stayed awake and defended the town from a brutal onslaught of green-eyed, hallucination-inducing forest spirits. The town's pretty haggard after all that, so hey, there's a conversation starter! It'll be good to have some fresh faces around to help with the recovery process.

You can check out the various Enter Mr. Sandman event posts in the OOC and log comms if you're curious, and plenty of the details will likely come up ICly, as well! The aftermath is just beginning, and we're so glad to have you along for the ride. :)

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock
For Eliot: A carton of cigarettes
For Prompto: 17 pairs of reading glasses
For Eleven: A pair of walkie-talkies, and enough batteries to last for 3 months of casual use
For Aziraphale: 12 drums, 11 lead pipes, 10 pairs of shoes, 9 wilting corsages, 8 bottles of milk, 7 taxidermy swans, 6 goose eggs, 5 stale onion rings, 4 bins full of duck armies, 3 dead chickens, 2 turtles, and a whole tree, though it's long dead... and strung with lights and garlands and holiday ornaments!
For Kol: A book
For Crowley: Peppermint extract, cream of tartar, a candy thermometer, a tin of cocoa, graham crackers, a generic bottle of red wine, a t-shirt with a crown logo on it, a book of love poems, and the goods
For Eleven: An assortment of wrapping paper, gift tags, ribbons, bows, and gift bags.
A lot of medical supplies. The supplies are plentiful enough that everyone may handwave finding common first aid supplies that will help to triage injuries sustained during the Enter Mr. Sandman event. The supplies won't immediately cure wounds, but they will help to prevent infection and ensure proper healing. There's even an assortment of painkillers, ranging from over the counter pills to IV morphine (though, hm, it seems each character will only be able to find one dose of the hospital-grade stuff, no matter how hard they search)

If you submitted an item request last month and we've missed it here, let us know!

QUICKNAV
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As they skirt the bonfire, Ellever walking mostly on autopilot, her brows knit together at the slight infusion of... is that an accent? It sounds... New York? Somewhere around there? She shakes her head slightly, letting out a quiet sigh. He's got more layers than a wedding cake, this guy.

"I know. It's going to get easier. Probably," she adds. Who knows what the month will bring. "You've got your sea legs here. I've only been here a month and... well, a lot happened last month."

Too much, really, but Ellever's just got to get used to it.

"But there are good people here. Interesting people. And... a big old mystery to solve. Too bad I left my Scooby Snacks at home."

"Left your. What?" The Soldier is not up on pop culture in any way, shape, or form. They don't even remember much from their own time before HYDRA. "What are Scooby snacks?" And why does it sound so utterly ridiculous.

"Oh!" She can't help a small chuckle, at the idea of explaining what she's about to. "There was this show on TV called Scooby Doo, and some movies and other stuff. Scooby Doo's the dog sidekick and the dog treats they give him are called Scooby Snacks. They solve mysteries."

That's about as much as Ellever remembers. It hadn't been her favorite show as a kid, but she'd caught some episodes and she certainly knows it through pop culture.

"But mostly the mysteries are some old guy dressed up in a dumb costume trying to scare people."

"That would be easy to solve, if that were the problem here," the Soldier says, maybe a little wistfully. Some asshole behind this whole mess, just one person, normal and mortal and shoot-able. If only.

They step up into the general store, finally at their destination. "We can put the boxes over here," they say, moving to one side of the room where other people have already deposited supply. The Soldier has kind of been lagging in the delivery department today, obviously.

Ellever's happy to put her box down. It's not as heavy as the cargo he's carrying, but it was carried a long time and was awkwardly sized. She sets it down by another crate that also seems to have medical supplies in it. They certainly need them, at the moment.

"God, yeah," she agrees. "Just go and find the oldest, creepiest guy around here and say, we know it's you! You did it! Now cough up the truth!"

There were probably episodes different than that. She hopes, at least, because it's boring if it's always the old dude. But she hasn't seen a ton of the show.

"Alas, we've got a much bigger mystery on our hands."

"Yes. And no idea how to solve it. The sleepers all had dreams... they might have intel that will help. Since the spirits said that was the point." Aziraphale's dream hadn't been super helpful, though. They add their boxes to the collection, for the vendor-spirit to sort out as they like, then settle back on their heels and blink sleepily.

"We'll collect it all, once everyone's had a breather. We need one." She added, after a shrug, "And that's assuming everyone feels like sharing, but I hope they do."

She couldn't quite stop a sigh. Yes, the spirits had certainly attempted to get something across to them. Dramatically. Communicating with them needed to be more of a priority — and figuring out how to do it more effectively, to be exact. Deciphering their message was going to be interesting. And probably a tad frustrating.

Ellever glanced over at the sleepy-looking Mr. Helpful — maybe that was going to stick — and a smile curled the edges of her lips.

"All right, cargo dropped. We should get to that resting part now."

They did promise, didn't they. Ugh. The Soldier rubs the heel of the flesh hand against one eye and sighs. "All right. Resting." They look sidelong over at Elle. "You, too." Because if they're banned from helping with the ferry, dammit, they're not going to be banished alone.

Of course, sitting down means they might just fall asleep, and that'd be rude to do with Elle right there.

"Where are you staying?" they ask. Does she have a house, or is she at the Invincible? Maybe the Soldier can walk her home, and get to Crowley and Aziraphale's house after.

"Chapel Rock, in the Village," Ellever answers. "I'm roomies with Castiel, if you know him."

Her face twists at the irony, whenever she so much as thinks about what it's called. Yes, the angel and the supposed antichrist live in Chapel Rock. It's a few steps away from being a sitcom of some kind.

She cants her head to the side, curiously. A lot about Soldat ⁠— Mr. Helpful ⁠— is still a mystery for her. And it's going to stay that way, mostly, she has a hunch. But, logistically, there are a few things she thinks might be good to know. Such as ⁠—

"You?"

Mostly, all she'd need to do is outright ask. The Soldier doesn't really think anything of answering truthfully to questions about their past. Or, sometimes, their present. "Village, too. Miner's Castle. With Crowley and Aziraphale." The thought of crashing on the couch sounds like the best idea ever, and yet also the worst thing in the world. The house is still empty. That's wrong. It shouldn't be empty.

Maybe they can go stay at Misty's instead.

"Miner's Castle." Her nose wrinkles, before she shakes her head. "Who came up with these names? I guess it could be worse, it could just be like Los Angeles and called Orange Plaza or Apple Grove or 'insert number here' at Main. It's all the same kind of bland, just... different flavors."

Maybe it bothers her more because it just doesn't match its surroundings. Chapel Rock could be a last bastion of hope in literal dark times, but instead, it's a group of houses.

"Should we head in that direction, neighbor?" Ellever adds, trying to infuse some humor. They're not really neighbors, but they're closer than the people who live at the Invincible. "...do you like your roomies?"

"There is a mine here, somewhere," the Soldier points out. "But I don't know what the other two might mean."

But they do start out of the store and in the direction of the village, as directed, and looks vaguely confused by the question. "Why wouldn't I like them. They let me stay there. And treat me with kindness. Crowley's my friend. And Aziraphale. Tries very hard." It'd be cute, if the Soldier still wasn't kind of afraid of him.

"Ah, you know. I've heard that sometimes when you live with people you like them a lot less than you would normally."

Not that she'd know. She has roommates that would be strange by anyone's definition, back home. Or had, she supposes. Here in town, she just has Cas and he isn't around enough in the house for her to form a good or bad opinion. They just are. It's not a bad arrangement by any stretch of the imagination.

"But I'm glad you get along." Ellever glances at him curiously. "Aziraphale... tries?"

What does that mean?

"Tries to be likeable." Tries to be the "dad" of their weird little almost-family, technically, but the Soldier doesn't have the frame of reference to recognize when someone is trying to parent them. All they know is it's somewhere between cute and awkward and still a little intimidating. So they sound somewhere between loyal and baffled when they add, "I'm sure he's very good at it. With most people."

A crooked-looking smile spreads along one side of Ellever's face. That sounds an awful lot like how she feels whenever she has to lay out a job to her employees. She tries very hard to be an authority figure, as their boss, even though she often feels like she should be standing at the back of the room. But she also wants them to... well, like her.

That's not the most mature path to take, and she knows it. Especially when her father still keeps her heritage a mystery for most people in Zier Security, which makes it an uphill battle. Being a secret makes it hard for them to trust her.

She scratches the back of her head idly. "It's nice that he tries," she offers.

Some wouldn't. Circe wouldn't.

"It's better than not trying," the Soldier agrees, a little vaguely. "He's not a bad sort. He's an angel." Most people seem to know more of what that means than they do, so it helps sometimes to share that bit. Like it gives people a better understanding of the kind of "nice" Aziraphale is, maybe.

"Ohhh." Ellever's smile shifts again and becomes wry. "I know exactly what you mean. My roomie's the same."

Castiel means well, but there's been a number of situations where their differing minds and points of view haven't exactly fit together. She's been learning how to let it slide off her, like water off a duck's back, and explain things if necessary. And, also, to let herself laugh at the things that are harmless. His flat, serious demeanor is a pretty great foil.

But he's also incredibly sweet and thoughtful, and his honesty is something she appreciates.

"Never thought I'd be roomies with an angel, but here we are," she jokes, kicking a rock idly off into the dark as they walk. "We could certainly do worse."

The Soldier blinks in sleepy surprise at the revelation of Elle living with an angel. Then they think a moment, remember her helping to carry Castiel safely to the Invincible, and ask, "Castiel lives with you?" The Soldier has mixed feelings about Castiel, but they are at least half positive, and the negative ones mostly focus on how they compare (to an angel, which is probably a dumb thing to compare) and how much worse and more thoroughly Castiel was tortured. "Good. Good. He shouldn't be alone."

She nods to confirm the question and then, at the latter, Ellever chuckles. "Yeah, uh, I'm probably not the greatest roommate either?"

There's a very odd collection of stuff happening in her room. It's clean, but probably worrying to look at. Odd trinkets she's kept from poking around Beacon, mostly. Other weird tidbits. She's sort of like a jackdaw, if jackdaws collected un-shiny things.

"But you're right. We don't spend a huge amount of time under the same room, but I like to keep an eye on him."

Things have, mostly, conspired to keep them both busy, since Castiel was sleeping and she was awake for the latter part of November.

Good. That's good. The Soldier nods once, reaches over to give Elle's shoulder an absent little pat. Touch is a little easier when half-asleep on their feet, maybe; and when they initiate it themselves. Either way, it's only their truth when they say, "No one should be alone."

It's the whole reason they even started staying with Crowley and Aziraphale. Part of why the siege didn't bother them as much as the others. The Soldier's figured out by now that they're better with other people around, and they can only extrapolate that everyone else is the same way.

She offers him a small, perhaps slightly bemused smile when he pats her shoulder. There he goes, surprising her again.

"Some people are okay," Ellever murmurs. "But, yeah, I think I'd go a little crazy if I didn't have someone to chat with, even if it's just... about nothing at all."

Ellever's cousins aren't like that, she's surmised. Every single one of them is built to be alone and to operate well that way. And maybe Ellever should be alone, given what she can do to other people, but... being raised by a loving human parent has made her notably different to her cousins.

This is normally something she'd keep to herself, but she's become more and more comfortable around Mr. Helpful. Just a little couldn't hurt, could it?

"I think that's my dad's influence." She shakes her head slightly. "My family's big on operating alone. A lot of them outright hate dealing with other people."

"I spent seventy years operating alone," the Soldier confides, back. They tuck their hands back into their pockets after the pat. Enough touching for now. "I'm sick of it. Want people to work with instead, to make it so it's not quiet anywhere anymore. Ain't right." Homes and safe places should have good noise: friendly voices, music, footsteps and heartbeats and breathing. Not silence. Not machine beeping or the hiss of the cryochamber, not the click of safeties being taken off automatic rifles.

A little pause, a little shake to shove that memory back where it belongs, then they ask, to clarify: "Your father. He was the one who kept you in that place, right?" They remember that. It caused a strong emotion, so even like this, it still lingers in their memory.

"I guess you're a white noise kind of guy, huh?"

Seventy years. Ellever blinks as they walk, staring down at her feet. Before coming here to Beacon, she's only met a few people who haven't looked their age — just as she doesn't. It's a family trait.

Apparently it's still uncommon on other worlds, but not unheard of.

"Yes," she says, to his question. She's still thinking about what he said about quiet, and wanting to work with people. Suddenly, more of why she had to practically pluck him out of the unloading process makes sense.

Ellever pauses, then clarifies, "He's my adoptive father. He found me wandering when I was a little kid." A smile twists the edge of her lips. "You know, between us and a few others I've met, we could have a We Don't Look Our Age club."

"I was in World War II in my... twenties, I think, but I died in 2014," the Soldier says with a slightly wry edge to their voice, slipping out through the exhaustion. The metal hand comes out of their pocket at the bridge over the river into the village proper, running along the railing. "A lot of the time between was spent in cryofreeze. That's probably why I don't look like I'm in my nineties." It's possible they might not age normally, either, given the serum... but they haven't had to think about that, let alone test it. "You don't know your real parents?"

"That's a heck of a timeline," she says mildly. Cryofreeze brings up a few questions in her mind, but she sets them aside for now. It does answer one, and that's enough. Especially when her train of thought is thoroughly and explosively derailed a moment later.

Ellever sucks in a quick breath, gaze going back to her feet. "I know who my real father is."

Unfortunately, some might say. She can still remember Circe taking her into her office, sitting her down, and explaining her past in thorough detail to her. Ezra hadn't thought she was ready to hear it — and he'd been right. She'd been confused and no one had had any answers for her.

Now she has some, thanks to Dewan. Ellever isn't sure how she wants to continue this thought, at first, but the Soldier's earned enough trust that she feels comfortable with the basics. There are some aspects of her childhood that even she is still uncomfortable with.

"He wasn't human, and no one has any record of when or where I was born," she goes on slowly. "My mother and the husband who thought he was my dad died in a house fire, and Ezra, my adoptive father, found me wandering in the streets afterward."

She cracks a smile. Ezra is a good memory, even now. "He estimated my age and gave me a fake birthday, so I know I'm somewhere around forty-two."

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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