EVENT LOG: GRAVES

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
GRAVES

characters: everyone.
location: Bonfire Square.
date/time: July 12-19.
content: mysterious shrines appear and bring visions of death.
warnings: likely violence and potentially gore.

time to pay your respects.

It happens when no one is looking, when most of the town is asleep and the rest are inside. A makeshift cemetery has come to Beacon, taking up residence in the middle of Bonfire Square. Each monument, shrine, and altar is dedicated to someone who now resides here, a memorial of their previous life.

Some may be drawn by curiosity, others by fear, and some may simply have to pass through this strange graveyard to get to the Bonfire itself. Whenever a person gets near, the altars beckon with a mysterious urge— an urge to approach, and an urge to leave something behind. They will feel compelled to make offerings at the various shrines, but doing so has a curious effect; it causes one to experience the death of the person whose grave they've honored.

Whether you resist the compulsion or give in willingly (or something in between), you'll also have to wrestle with the fact that a grave exists for you. Will you let your death be known, or try your best to keep it secret? Destroying it sure won't work, as it will return— with a duplicate somewhere else in town.

However you choose to deal with this, one thing is hard to ignore— this a tangible reminder of your death, and the fact that it's probably permanent.

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Comments

[ultimatums]

[ honestly, it sounds about right, and raylan hates the thought. if it's a test, that implies there's a tester. someone overseeing, watching, getting off on this shit. his jaw works and he looks away, shaking his head. ]

I would not be surprised. Feels targeted.

[ as if this is going to do absolutely anything other than make himself feel a whole lot more ineffectual, he gives the headstone a light tap with the toe of his boot. ]

Thought I was done lookin' at this thing.

[preseance]

( there's tension roilin' off him like a dark wave. it ain't that he's mad, leastwise not in any obvious or notable way, it's just. there's a sense to him. like smellin' rain in the air or spottin' far off thunderclouds against a noonday sky.

thought i was done lookin' at this thing. the old date an' the new one. this is, he realizes, at the very least somethin' of a simulacrum of a very real thing back home for the man. an' not a very pleasant memory, by the sound of it. every man's a mortal one, but ain't many who care to be reminded of that fact.

gene drops a hand against the man's shoulder, squeezes faintly. )

Y'wanna come away from here, or is your plan to safeguard it some?

[ultimatums]

[ the question makes him snort, a blustery breath, and he shakes his head and turns away. in the process he shrugs off gene's hand, only halfway an accident. it's not that the comfort isn't appreciated, it's just – he doesn't want it, not right now. ]

Be happy to go. [ as if to demonstrate his enthusiasm for the idea, he doesn't even give the headstone another look before he turns on his heel. raylan was blessed with very little tact when he's otherwise engaged, so in an effort to move focus away from himself he shoves somewhat brutally in another conversational direction. ] Saw yours, I think.

[preseance]

( of all the graves that've magicked themselves into existence, the discussion of gene's bothers him the least. he doesn't think raylan's possessin' of the presence of mind right now to have made it a thing of cruelty, so gene just shrugs, lifting his right shoulder up halfly. )

Pair'a boots an' a rifle. Duplicate'a these.

( he hooks his thumb in the ball chain of his dog tags and pulls it out from beneath his shirt at a low angle so the tags slide down to his fingers. demonstrative, more than anything. just to confirm raylan's certainty. he's less troubled — or perhaps a measure less possessive — of most folk on this account. he's already made attempts at peace with the fact his boys would'a had to add his frozen body to that stack at the church an' wait for the grc to have the time an' resources to bury him. )

Yeah. Weren't much bother. I died easy, most anybody's gonna be bothered by if they stumble on into my memories is the cold.

( death ain't but a destination for every livin' thing that draws breath. 'leastwise his was quick an' painless, an' as much as he don't want other people sharin' in that, there ain't no especial hardship. he's already aware it's given up his secrets, which has resulted in a curious sort'a calm. folks know, an' so far it ain't been no thing. )