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

Mary | ota | prompts below

[withsadness]

GRAVE GUARDING

[withsadness]

[Anyone who comes across Mary's grave will find that the girl isn't acting very, well...girlish. There's a manic look in her eyes as she paces restlessly in front of her small, distinctively childish grave. It seems like she's talking to herself, mumbling under her breath, but shes snaps her head toward anyone who approaches, stopping immediately. There's something pointed grasped in one hand, though for now, it rests by her side. Still, the tension in her entire body can't be called unthreatening.]

Leave.

[It isn't a request.]

[fogey]

[ five holds up both hands briefly, palms towards mary, letting them drop to his sides. he doesn't seem to otherwise be overly concerned about the possibility of mary stabbing him. he doesn't stop moving either, takes a few slow steps her way. for what it's worth, he's approaching her, not the grave. ]

It's just me, Mary.

[ "just me," he says, and manages not to choke on it. as if anyone should ever find him unthreatening, not dangerous. ]

[withsadness]

[It helps that he's not coming closer to the grave, but even movement at all seems to upset her, and she only holds out her weapon in front of her.]

You have to go! Get away from here!

[fogey]

Are you going to stab me?

[ just asked like that, upfront. he doesn't think she would, or could besides. ]

first encounter. (1/3)

[sunborne]

[ ERRRRRRRRR. ]

2/3

[sunborne]

[ daylight takes a clear step back, lowering the paper flower that he holds in his servos. he's clearly taken back by the response. from what he's seen so far, he gets a bit of caginess and maybe disgruntledness of having this all drudged up.

but this is different.

it's silly, really, how he's caught off by her despite the clear staggering differences in both age and size. if he wanted to do something, they both probably know that he could.

but he doesn't. ]

3/3

[sunborne]

Okay.

[ daylight nods and begins to walk away. probably for the best that mary have time to herself and she isn't distracted from her guard watch.

but, before he's out of earshot, he stops. then he turns around, his expression one of genuine worry and concern. ]

-Stay safe, Mary. Call me if you need anything, okay?

[ and, with that said to show there are no hard feelings between them over this, daylight heads off. ]

'bout to throw hands with a 9 year old

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas would have bypassed her entirely, if she weren't pacing like that. It's suspicious enough that it lures Vanitas in, and when she turns on him— all sharp eyes, armed and ready to fight— something giddy shoots through him and makes him grin. ]

What are you hiding, little girl?

I'm ready for the fight

[withsadness]

[The expression on Mary's face almost makes her look like a wild animal; she all but bears her teeth at Vanitas at his coy question.]

Go away! Go away!

[She brandishes her palette knife as menacingly as someone her size can manage.]

I won't let you see!

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas has had much bigger, much more dangerous blades pointed at him in the past. He glances at her tiny knife derisively, and his expression sharpens further, like a predator finding a weakness in it's prey. ]

You think you can stop me with that little thing?

ASLEEP; LATER IN THE WEEK

[withsadness]

[If you come to talk with her later in the week, you'll find that Mary's finally lost the stamina to keep up her watch. You could find her swaying, dead on her feet, the lantern beside her flickering dimly. She still looks so angry...but exhausted. So, so tired. Or maybe you've come at just the right time, and she's collapsed completely, breathing slow and even where she lays. No matter how hard she tried, eventually, her strength could only last so long. Behind her, the doll that holds her marker continues to grin its red-stitched grin.]

[callada]

[It's been several days now. He's been suppressing his curiosity about Mary because he's not sure he really wants to witness the death of a child. He had plenty of close calls himself back when he was younger than she is now. And Law came close, so close, more than once in those last few months. But he, and Law also, always pulled through in the end. She didn't.

But he wants to know, because she seems so much like him in some ways, and because he wants to know how to help her. He approaches carefully, quietly, with a package of little chocolates in one hand. If she won't accept it as an offering, perhaps she could use the pick-me up.]

Hey, Mary. Are you doing all right?

[withsadness]

[It takes Mary a minute to respond. Her eyes are distant and unfocused, because she can't sleep, she mustn't sleep. She blinks a few times, and as the words seem to reach her, she becomes guarded, remembering herself.]

...don't come any closer.

[callada]

[That's fine. He understands. He nods, then sits in place and crosses his legs. Not going anywhere, not for now.]

Have you been out here the whole time?

[equinoctials]

[ Riku isn't here for her marker or its secrets, it's the fact that she's soundly sleeping on the cold and unforgiving ground. Suspecting the reason has much to do with why he's covered his own with a canvas drop cloth, the sight spurs him to wordless action.

He shrugs out of his jacket, placing it over her small shoulders, intending to - very carefully, lest she wake upset - turn her onto her back, his palm pillowing the back of her head.

It's one thing if she wakes and he half expects her to, but if she proves too deeply asleep, she'll be getting picked up off the ground. ]

[withsadness]

[Mary does stir, just slightly, but only turns her head more into his hand as he lifts her. She's so light, it's easy to to so--it looks like at least for now, she is indeed sleeping deeply enough not to wake.]

[equinoctials]

[ Just as he thought, she's completely exhausted. And as for the reason... Riku looks over at the marker and the doll there, narrowing his eyes. Whatever the purpose is to having these things here, he's already experienced first-hand the way well-meaning items left in their vicinity causes an unwanted intrusion into one's recollection of their death.

He isn't interested in invading her privacy, and obviously, she's not too keen on it either, if she's willing to go this far to protect it. Or that's... pretty much how it appears, from where he stands.

Riku brings Mary up off the ground with him as he rises. He rests her up against his shoulder, cradled by one arm so he can retrieve her lantern. ]

This is no place to take a nap, trust me. Let's get you inside.

[ By inside, he means the Invincible, not that it's where he rests his head, but it's warm, safe, and there are beds. ]

second encounter.

[sunborne]

[ daylight returns to mary's spot and, thankfully enough, he doesn't have an offering (seemingly) at hand.

but he does carry a blanket.

it's almost comical with how it's clearly meant for someone of actual human height. he holds it so gingerly in his much larger servos, as if worried it'll rip to shreds if he doesn't treat it with the gentleness he showed to it as he made a trip into the impromptu graveyard.

it's the same sort of gentleness he shows as he carefully, carefully, carefully lowers the blanket over mary's still-standing form. he had passed by earlier when doing other things but he had immediately returned to the invincible, scavenged around for something upon spotting mary. something about her still standing there, trying to put up a good fight against it all, makes his spark hurt.

he wants to help her somehow. this seems like a good first step. this next action might not be a smart second step but it's the good second step, in his opinion. ]

Hey, Mary? Mary? [ he knows better than to touch her. he simply kneels next to her, keeping track of her reactions if there are any. ] You're almost falling asleep on your feet here.

that other comment chain made me emo

[withsadness]

[At first, there is no reaction. Her eyes are so far away, her face non-responsive. But then there's a flicker of recognition and she comes to, just enough. Maybe surprisingly, but at seeing Daylight she doesn't immediately launch back into the defensive. She looks searchingly up at him.]

Huh?

[Oh. She quickly looks over her shoulder at her grave, relieved that it seems to have been untouched, and gives herself a headrush in the process that causes her to sway.]

I can't remember...I've been awake for so long.

buckle in because this thread is going to be /worse/

[sunborne]

Mary-!

[ now is the time daylight reaches out and touches her, trying to keep mary upright so she doesn't stumble or fall. he looks so concerned for mary as scoots closer, minding the fact he takes up a lot of space due to his size.

before he can think it through, daylight makes a suggestion to her, only meaning well: ]

You should take a break, Mary. You really oughta do that. Your lantern... [ daylight's optics drift towards it and his brow furrows in alarm, winglets hitching up at the sight. ] It's really dim and I don't think that's a good sign.

DEATH

[withsadness]

You look around you, your whole body tense with anxiety. This world is dark, a black void of nothing. The floor you stand on seems to exist only due to the lines of crayon that have given it form. All the walls are sketched in that same waxy pink; it's implausible, but so it stands. There are toys skattered all around you (all hand-drawn and barely recognizable as what they're meant to be), wandering, headless mannequins and scrabbling, strange creatures. They look to you for guidance, but you ignore them and walk on past.

They seem to warn, silently, that perhaps it would be better simply to stay. Stay and play, Mary. Stay and play, please, it's for the best!

But you don't want these mindless games anymore. Ahead of you, up the crayon-stairs of your making, lies the possibility of freedom from this place. Oh, where, where did your friend go? You must find her at once, must tell her how much you love, love, love her! It's all Garry's fault; he frightened her, somehow. But you'll make her understand.

You're such a good girl.

Up the stairs and down the hallway you approach a doorway. You'd hidden it behind a drawing of tangled vines so nobody could ever find it...but is it possible? Voices, inside? Your whole body shakes. No, no, it can't be. They can't be inside! You brush past the vines, throw open the door, and there they are.

The room is just like the others, nothing but sketched crayon, empty of furnishing...except that the scattered books and papers and crayons that are dotted across the floor. Those are yours, your precious belongings! And against the far wall, a life-sized canvas hangs, encased in glass. The glass has been broken open, shards spread across the floor.

The portait is empty, save for a border of yellow roses. But you knew that, of course. You knew what they'd find, and that's why they weren't supposed to find it. You don't know when you pulled the palette knife from your pocket, but you clutch the handle in frightened, angry desperation.

She has a lighter in her hand. Why, why, oh what is she going to do with such a thing? Such a terrible, awful thing? It shouldn't be here! She shouldn't be here!

"Leave."

She isn't moving.

"Leave!"

You shout, scream, and a fissure erupts from your feet, splitting the floor in half. The girl steps backward toward the portrait. No, oh no--you lunge toward her. You'll stop her first. You'll get her before she can get you; you'll split open her neck and paint the walls with her beautiful blood. And it'll be so sad, and freedom will be gone forever, but you'll stay, she'll stay, even if she isn't moving. She won't be able to ever hurt you if she isn't moving. And she won't be able to run away, either.

But your friend, your first friend, your best friend, she's much too fast. The flame touches the canvas, and as it splits and burns and crackles so do you. Your skin bursts, your clothes fizzle, your hair erupts. Sight is flame and wretched, hot, searing pain. You scream, you cry. You reach for anyone and anything.

Where is father? Why isn't he coming? Please, somebody, won't you save me?

The palette knife slips from your hand and then there's nothing left of you to scream. Everything you were is nothing but ash.

[ryanreynoldsvoice]

Falling, fighting, disappearing into nothingness....

Pikachu backs up fast and hard, the action involuntary as if he'd just been repelled by the grave itself. So much so that he bumps up into another grave and proceeds to curl into a small fuzzy ball.

"No! Stop!"

[withsadness]

At the sound of something so close, Mary whips her head around with a glare. But seeing who it is, and how Pikachu looks so frightened and small, smaller than even she is, it tempers her anger and her distrust. How could she ever be suspicious of someone like Pikachu?

So she hurries over to him and falls down beside him, trying to lift him up into her arms. "There, there! There, there!"

That's what people are supposed to say when others are scared.

[ryanreynoldsvoice]

Pikachu, shocked and afraid, is harder to pick up than normal. His nerves flinch at every small movement and touch but in the end he is lifted off the ground.

"I-Is that...uh...was that....is that real?"