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

[callada]

One second he has the kid - man, whatever - and the next he's gone. Not dropped, but vanished, only to be somewhere else abruptly. Teleportation, that's a new one on him, though he's heard of a couple devil fruits that allow something like it.

Well-used to strangeness already, and finding each day here to be stranger than the last, his surprise only lasts a second before he focuses quickly on where Five has moved himself to.

"You're the one intruding. You don't have any room to talk."

[fogey]

"Oh yeah? And what do you call spying on my grave?"

It's not quite a you started it, but. The same in essence.

[callada]

"A mistake," he repeats, that being his original claim.

It's not true, of course, but it's convenient. He does feel a sort of desire to see these, even if each time experiencing the deaths of others ends up painful and difficult. He's heard others say the same, so he knows it isn't just him. There's a wanting, a needing, to know that surpasses his own curiosity.

"What did you see?" he asks. Maybe he's lucky; maybe he caught Five before he saw it all.

[fogey]

"Sure," he scoffs.

He doesn't particularly suspect anything of Rosinante, besides maybe some nosiness. He knows about the compulsion, for one thing. Would act this disbelieving to anyone, everyone, for another.

(Does notice, however, how calmly Rosinante took it. Not that he'd expect a near-stranger to mourn him, but most people -- plenty around here -- find this kind of thing upsetting in ways they can't mask.)

"I'll spare you the suspense. I saw everything."

The admissions to his brother, the child he tried to save -- all of it.

[callada]

Too late, then. Bad timing. Not that the visions seem to take long - the information must flush right into a person's mind in the blink of an eye, like a dream that feels like it lasts an eternity.

"And? Have you satisfied your curiosity?" he asks.

[fogey]

"If you want to know if I'm going to ask any questions, the answer is no."

He regards Rosinante for a long moment, then shrugs.

"I'd have no way of knowing if your answers are true, for one thing." Different worlds. "It doesn't matter to me, for another."

He can't quite say it's none of my business when he's gone out of his way to take a look at this particular memory. But, as far as he's concerned, it doesn't have a lot of bearing on this world -- besides the measure of Rosinante he's gotten, that he wouldn't have had otherwise.

[callada]

"So interested enough to look, but not interested enough beyond that," he says with a frown. "Suits me fine."

He can't stop them all. Five - if he's speaking the truth about his correct age - has likely seen plenty in his life. Learned some amount of apathy, as a result.

"Why did you look, then?"

[fogey]

"Let's call it curiosity."

Then he shrugs, says,

"Besides, now we're even."

[callada]

"That, we are. Fair's fair."

Not that fairness has ever particularly played a role in his life, but it would have been nice if it did. May as well allow a little bit more into the world.

"I'll move on, then," he says with a shrug. More deaths to observe, but also an increasing number of people who look like they need a hand in being reminded to take care of themselves. Those who are truly adamant about scaring people off are still guarding their shrines and grave markers with the sort of fervor that implies they might pass out before they decide to go get food. He's not pleased people are seeing how he died and feeling what he felt in those last moments, himself, but he can't spend quite that much effort guarding those private thoughts from people who are determined to know them. Maybe if he had cigarettes he'd have the energy. Instead, he's already tired and bitter enough.