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!

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"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."

The Soldier listens, focusing intently so they don't miss anything, since her voice and bearing suggest this is an important conversation. The metal hand goes back in its pocket. "Forty-two." They crack a small, sleepy, but also slightly smug smile. Calculated to break tension and make her recognize affection towards her and comfort in her presence. "Looks like I'm still older."

Honestly, their best friend in Beacon is a demon. An angel tries to parent them. A Frenchman from the 1800s and a bayou witch give them orders, they've fought beside a ten foot tall man in make-up, and rescued a giant robot a couple times now. Someone with a non-human father is really not all that weird, at this point.

With thoughts of her father in her head, and his dumb crooked smile, Ellever's mood has already upturned significantly from when she'd thought of Conquest and how to bring him up. It. The Soldier's crack makes her snort, a grin spreading across her face.

"Oho. So that's how it is, huh?"

Most of the time, the lack of aging on her body is more annoying than anything else. She doesn't have any of the associated aches and pains of getting older, true, but people also treat her like a kid all of the time and routinely belittle her. Eternal youth is not what people think it is, she finds.

"Fifty years. Big deal," she jokes, before shaking her head. "Whenever someone calls me 'kid' I have to stop myself from getting annoyed at them."

Levity achieved. Good job, Soldier. They're still smiling when they answer, "I'll make sure never to call you that, then. Even if you are fifty years younger." Yep, that's how it is. Elle has officially locked into little sister status, or would have if the Soldier remembered what that's what this feeling actually is. "It's not like I lived for all those years, anyway. Every time I came out of cryo I got wiped."

Ellever's grin remains on her face, instead of slowly sliding off like it has a habit of doing, lately. It's nice, talking like this; it feels normal, in a place that's anything but. Like she's back home, joking with Sanjay.

Though it does become a bit more frozen and fixed when she hears the word wiped.

"Cryofreeze? That's actually a thing where you're from?" She scratches the back of her head idly. "I mean, some companies exist where I'm from, but I always get the picture that they're just really cold morgues and that it's not exactly going to work."

"I was frozen whenever I was not on a mission or in training, yes," the Soldier says with a little shrug. "It might be impossible for anyone else to survive it, but I heal more quickly and thoroughly than people do. Coming out is unpleasant, but going in was almost peaceful. Still rather not do it again, though."

"Huh."

Ellever tilts her head, briefly, to the side as she glances over at some of the houses they're passing, processing what's being said. If there were proper light, this place would look nice, she thinks. Like the out-of-the-way mountain communities she'd driven through while researching. Instead, it looks eerie, as always.

They're getting closer and closer to the house she shares with Castiel, which she's relieved about; pain is tiring, as it turns out. Who knew? Not her.

"No, I bet not," she says wryly. "Healing faster must come in handy around here."

"It did. Especially with Crowley helping." It made keeping up with patrols and supply runs so much easier. Dying that one time helped, too. Full physical reset, clearing out the lingering aches and still-healing bits. They do see her house, there, and slows on approach. "Will you be able to sleep."

It's a question even if it doesn't quite sound like one.

It might only be dozing that she gets into, but Ellever nods in response to the question. Her body's ready to sit down and not move for a while, and her cuts will eventually need a more thorough application of antiseptic again. All done better indoors than out.

"Yeah. I'll give it a shot." She smiles. "Thanks for the escort, Mr. Helpful. I hope you get some sleep, too."

"Don't think I'm going to have a choice," the Soldier says with half a smile. "See you later, Elle. I hope you sleep well."

And after another absent pat to her shoulder, they'll turn and head off towards Aziraphale and Crowley's cabin. They may or may not wind up staying there for their nap-a-thon, but it's at least a place to start.

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INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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