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

ii; useless campouts (July 13-14)

[hardwearing]

[ Wrong. The next 'morning' when Wash is out for his run and struggling to ignore the compulsion to stop and make offerings to every grave he passes, he comes by the site of his grave again. It should be a pile of rubble... but it isn't anymore. No, the headstone is back in one piece, if not restored beyond the state it first appeared in, some bits still obscured. Wash slows to a stop in front of it, breathes in and out a few times with very deliberate evenness, and then curses to no one in particular.

That's how it's going to be, huh Beacon? Well, Wash isn't giving up that easily. He sits himself down right then and there with his back to the headstone, hiding the writing on it, and has no intention of moving. Anyone who comes too close will get a warning look -- it's very clear that he's guarding this grave, and will attempt to stop anyone who looks like they're going to make an offering. He'll chat with you if want, generally accepting of company or if some kind soul wants to bring him a snack, but drop items at your own risk.

What Wash doesn't realize yet is that his grave hasn't only repaired itself. Destroying it the previous day also created a duplicate, a second marker on the very outskirts of the square that anyone can happen upon to witness Wash's death despite his best efforts at guarding this grave site. He can't be in two places at once, after all.

Maybe some kind soul who sees the memory and figures out whose it was should tell him the situation, because he really is planning to camp out here until these graves disappear. ]

[evocation]

[Kyna doesn't know about the second grave yet, so she can't help there, but she knows exactly how Wash feels about this situation without needing to be told. She grabs some food from The Invincible and heads to his grave, and as she approaches, she's hit with that familiar wave of compulsion. Now that she's expecting it, it's easier to fight, but it's still an obnoxious grating need at the back of her mind as she sits beside him. Kyna sets the plate in front of him and then scoots close, resting her head on his shoulder.]

Hi.

[hardwearing]

[ Wash glances up at the sound of footsteps to see Kyna approaching from the direction of The Invincible, lantern in one hand and a plate in the other. At first he isn't certain what to expect, if she's going to try and talk him out of guarding his grave or might actually want to make an offering he'll have to talk her out of... the last thing he wants right now is an argument. Not with Kyna. But she just sets the plate down in front of him and claims his shoulder as a pillow, and Wash can feel himself uncoil a little instantly. He shifts to get his arm around her, turning his head to press his face into her hair; he can eat in a minute. ]

Thanks... you holding up okay?

[evocation]

Yeah.

[She thinks she's handling this a bit better than him, actually, but she doesn't say so. She just presses close, looping her arm around him.]

Are you okay?

[hardwearing]

I guess.

[ He wouldn't be surprised to hear that, because she'd be right. He's not handling this well at all, as used to memory sharing as he got in Hadriel. This feels more like his first event all over again, that dream share where he'd stubbornly refused to sleep for as long as possible, just to keep people out of his head. It's not something he know show to manage or avoid besides just sitting here, guarding his grave and warning everybody off. Because he can't handle people seeing, not this, not strangers and not something so raw and devastating and personal. He doesn't even want people to see the name on the headstone because it's not for them to know. None of this is. ]

I don't know if anyone came by before I found it, that's all. The not knowing isn't great.

[evocation]

Oh. Yeah, I get it.

[At least with the dream sharing back in Hadriel, you knew. Here, there's no way to, and while Kyna almost prefers not to know so she can pretend it's not happening, she knows Wash is different.]

I didn't see anything. I promise.

[hardwearing]

[ That's a relief, honestly. He doesn't want her to see her own death through his eyes. Doesn't want her to feel the crushing rush of terror and grief and self-loathing that he's, quite frankly, still dealing with himself. Wash knows Kyna doesn't blame him, and wouldn't want him to blame himself, but he does. And he doesn't know how to stop it. ]

Okay. I didn't leave anything at yours, either.

[evocation]

[She pulls away just enough to peek up at him, arm still wrapped around his middle.]

Do you want to?

[hardwearing]

[ That's difficult to answer. Yes, because there are some things he feels like he needs to know for sure. No, because it'd be horrible and a violation of her privacy and he's pretty sure she doesn't want him to see. ]

Kind of..?

[evocation]

Kind of.

[That seems like a way to downplay a "yes" to her.]

Why?

[hardwearing]

[ Ugh, Kyna, this conversation is awful!!! Wash grimaces a little, not even knowing how to explain it. What's the simplest way to put it? Maybe he can consolidate all his fears and insecurities into one statement that won't just piss her off.... ]

So I can stop imagining what it was like for you, basically.

[evocation]

[It isn't really that she's getting angry with him—it's more that she doesn't want him to use the reality of her death as more ammo to torture himself with. She doesn't know how to articulate it, though, and his answer makes her hesitate.]

You've been imagining it?

[hardwearing]

[ The reality of her death isn't as awful as what his imagination has been coming up with, Kyna. It really isn't. ]

...yeah. Seemed like a bad thing to ask questions about, though.

(f) NOW IN THE RIGHT PLACE la la la

[preseance]

( he doesn't know the name, but he knows the military designation of marine corps. he's already learned his lesson about leavin' material objects, so instead he stops to say a prayer. eternal rest grant unto them, o Lord, and let eternal light shine down upon them. may this man one day find peace among his brothers an' sisters in arms and whatever family he calls his own.

the vision hits him as he makes the sign of the cross. an' panic, which ain't rightly a thing what often grips him, surges up. because he knows that girl, an' the armor he's wearin', an' that means this is.

lord. wash an' kyna.

it hurts all the more for the knowin', an' when the experience is done an' he's back in the world he goes to his knees, one hand outflung automatically to catch himself on the marker an' to keep from hittin' the dirt. he's breathin' hard, adrenaline surgin' hard, an' once he realizes what he's grippin' onto he lets it go and lets himself fall backwards, scrambles away from it with rather less dignity than what he normally comports himself with.

soldiers, an' medics beside have learned through a trial by fire that you can't stay still when there's clear an' present danger. his heart's beatin' so fast it's fit to break ribs, an' he gets back to his feet at a good clip. he always hated it. seein' the replacements come in an' get whittled away by the germans. he stopped makin' friends with the new fellas, on account of knowin' their numbers would be down by half in a month or two besides. but. he'd let his guard down — what harm could it be, now they're all dead an' in the same boat? he likes them in a soft, genuine way an' to see their end writ plain an' awful besides makes a ruin of him.

but he puts it away. he has to. an' he needs to get outta here before the compulsion takes hold an' he says or does somethin' else.

he's near back to the inn when he sees wash sittin' in front of a grave. even just seein' him is like a lance, an' gene feels guilty as all get-out for the fact that he stepped inside his life an' bore witness to somethin' that ought to have been personal an' private. )

I'm sorry.

( he don't quite blurt it out. but it ain't said with his usual composure, neither, an' he's still faintly breathless. what's he apologizing for, wash? it's anyone's guess, really, but yours'll probably be right on the money. )

[hardwearing]

[ Wash is leaning back against his headstone with his head bowed and eyes closed, but glances up at the sound of footsteps. Someone else he's going to have to warn to keep walking, he suspects, but is surprised to see it's Gene. There's just enough ambient light from the bonfire reaching them for Wash to be able to tell, and as he gets closer it becomes obvious that there's misery etched into his expression. Wash feels a stab of guilt, himself -- he hadn't realized what was going to happen when he'd pressed that bullet into the dirt in front of Gene's marker, of course, but it's still something he didn't have permission to see. To feel. ]

Gene?

[ There's really only one thing he could be apologizing for, in which case he should too. Of course, he's assuming that Gene would've made an offering either yesterday before Wash smashed his headstone, or early today before he realized it had popped back. ]

Hey, it's okay. I think we're probably even. I'm sorry, too. [ He lifts a hand, beckoning Gene over. ] Come keep me company? I'm just trying to keep anyone else from...

[ He can't finish the thought, is really stupidly upset at the fact that Gene saw, that he knows how Wash screwed up and exactly what he felt, but what's done is done and after twenty one months of this kind of bullshit in Hadriel? Wash isn't going to get mad at anyone for this kind of thing except the one responsible. Right now his resentment is directed entirely and possibly erroneously at the faceless lighthouse keeper. ]

...just. You can sit if you want.

[preseance]

( he sucks in a breath between his teeth, half a grimace, an' then he steps in closer and sinks down to the earth beside wash. he still feels sick, an' it ain't a matter of the dying (it ain't never bothered him, really, to experience mortality in that way) or anythin' like that, it's just. wash and kyna are good people.

not that once in the history of anythin' has that ever stopped death in its tracks.

he draws one leg up, braces his knee on it. lord, he thinks he might actually slap a man for a cigarette about now, but in lieu of one he's nervous and jittery, fingers tapping at nothin' in the air. he ought to see about gum at the general store. )

I can go sit at the other one, if'n you want. I don't mind it.

( it's personal, an' private besides, an' gene'd rather safeguard someone else over himself. his death was easy. probably the least of all the ones here, an' the only thing in it is a secret that, the more he thinks on, the less he thinks he really needs to keep in the afterlife anyhow. )

[hardwearing]

[ Hmm, it looks like that nicotine withdrawal is setting in, huh Gene? Wash has never dealt with that himself but he's well aware it's not fun. He doesn't comment on it, though, because they really have worse to worry about right now. Gene'll get through it, he has no doubt whatsoever.

What he does have right now is a distinct sense of dread, when Gene says "the other one." ]

Uh. What other one..?

[preseance]

( it hadn't occurred to him that wash wouldn't know, an' so he looks at him askance an' then glances behind them both to assure himself it's the same grave. could have been that wash was watchin' over kyna's given what he'd seen, but — no. it's the same one, wracked and weathered with things broken an' chipped away. )

I ain't noticed 'em movin' about, but there's another one with your name on it up the way, over past the bonfire nearer the river.

[hardwearing]

[ You know what, Wash isn't even surprised by that. It's new information, sure, but it's not a shock. Just part of how this bullshit works, because why wouldn't they be fighting a grave hydra? He just looks angry, his eyes dark as his jaw works with tension. ]

Of course there is. I guess that's what happens if you destroy it, I smashed this one yesterday.

[ His voice is low and cold and pissed off, but he tries to soften it for Gene's sake when he hears himself. ]

Thanks for offering, but don't bother. With how these things go I probably shouldn't have tried to fight it in the first place. I'm just... you can guess why I didn't want anyone seeing.

[ It's as much the fact that it's not just his death as it is the emotional vulnerability of what he felt in that moment. It's private and not even only his trauma. But of course Gene knows that. Because he saw. ]

[preseance]

( the anger don't bother none. the man's a right to it, an' gene just shakes his head faintly when wash goes on an' tries to gentle it on his account. he knows what wash means — death is personal, an' it ain't a thing meant to be shared among mortal folk, but. wash almost sounds ashamed.

gene's jaw works off to one side with a faint tick of the muscle. the tapping of his fingers have ceased, leastwise for now. clear focus. )

You died fightin'. I know it ain't much, but you were pushin' on despite all else you felt, an' Lord knows you did everythin' you could. Ain't a soul alive could hold you accountable for dyin', Wash, an' I don't think anybody could'a done more with what you had, neither. An' I'm sorry I saw it without askin' permission, but I ain't sorry for comin' to know you better through it.

[hardwearing]

[ Wash is ashamed. Not for dying, not for losing the fight, but for failing Kyna. He knows, intellectually, that she wouldn't blame him or want him blaming himself, but he does anyway. He doesn't know how to stop it.

Gene might well be the only person they've met in Beacon that Wash is willing to discuss this with, though he can't quite look at the other man. Just sits there twisting one of his rings around on his finger, sounding regretful and more blatantly ashamed of himself, only barely speaking loud enough for Gene to hear him. ]

I should've protected her, Gene. If I'd been closer, I could have gotten there in time.

[preseance]

( he knows that pain. how many times has he felt that himself? if he'd been closer, if he'd been faster, if he'd triaged patients differently, if he hadn't used the last of his morphine on the guy with the shattered femur an' had thought to save it for the one with the sucking chest wound. each one of those deaths beneath his hands — an' lord help him, there've been so many — is another guilty notch on his conscience.

he'd consigned himself to livin' with it, until suddenly he wasn't.

he knows it's different with kyna. there's more there than just friendship, though he ain't yet cottoned on to the extent of it, but. he does reach out an' grip wash's shoulder just the same.

he wishes his pa were here. jesse hicks always know just what to say, an' the best gene's got is to grasp at fragments of his own experience an' what he knows about wash an' kyna an' the death they shared. soft, )

Sometimes you gotta recognize it ain't about you. You were where you were, an' she was where she was, an' that's war. I think we can agree that she ain't the sort who'd appreciate bein' protected or you feelin' like that's your responsibility besides. She's a fighter. Maybe not a soldier, but she knew what she was doin' out there, an' you have to trust that she was doin' it just as well as she could, too.

( his voice wavers, just a touch. that grief an' sorrow an' loss and hurt that wash felt is still there, overlappin' with his own fondness for kyna, an' though gene ain't an emotional sort it's made a mess of his mind all the same. )

It wasn't your fault, Wash. It wasn't. An' if Kyna were right here with us right now she'd say the same an' mean it just as much.

( he's aware he's oversteppin' his bounds some. he knows that wash might ask him to leave, an' it'd be well-deserved, an' he'd go without a fuss. but sometimes wounds have to be lanced to dig out the infection, an' sometimes the bone has to be re-broken before it can set straight. gene's a medical man. he doesn't mind the doin', on the off-chance it'll mean less pain down the line. )

[hardwearing]

[ Gene isn't saying anything that Wash doesn't already know, but he also doesn't seem to be getting it. Not exactly. At least he manages not to flinch away from the hand on his shoulder because he saw it coming, but he's still tense under Gene's touch. He shakes his head slightly. ]

I know she wouldn't say it's my fault. And I know she can handle herself. She's saved my ass more than the other way around, but that's the point. We're supposed to protect each other, because all it takes is a single moment to be overwhelmed... one missed shot, one too many enemies, just something you didn't see...

[ He exhales heavily, shifts with discomfort like his grief is a physical burden on him. ]

We were supposed to be fighting together but I wasn't close enough so she died alone. Again. I don't even know if she realized I was trying to get there.

[preseance]

( lord, let him never stray from helpin' those that are hurtin', an' givin' succor to those in need. he closes his eyes with the prayer, and then he closes what little distance there is between the two of 'em and pulls wash into a hug. it's an awkward affair, given the relative differences in their sizes (christ o'lordy what are they feedin' these boys in the future?) an' the nature of the day, but it's what he's got. )

She knew. Believe me, fella, she knew.

[hardwearing]

[ This is probably the fastest anyone in Wash's life has ever gone from nice to meet you to hugging him, and at first he doesn't seem to know how to react to it. He does, of course, he's gotten used to human contact again thanks to the efforts of his friends in Hadriel, but he still initially freezes up. It seems to happen whenever a friend reaches out to him for the first time, like he needs a moment to refile the person from 'safe' to 'touchable' in his head. And someone else always needs to be the one to change that designation, Wash won't reach for them first.

...all of that is assuming the person registered as safe in the first place, which Gene did. So luckily the conditions are right, Wash is just awkward.

He does need it. Gene's at a bit of a strange angle, but it's still comforting. More than his words, honestly, because how could Gene know that? Unless he's visited Kyna's grave too, seen it from her side... Wash really can't think about that right now. He exhales shakily, arms finally coming up around the other soldier and pulling him in a little closer, holding tight for a long moment. Unsurprisingly he's very strong, but isn't clinging in a manner that'd keep Gene from breaking free.

When he does speak again his voice is very soft, plaintive as he essentially begs for advice from someone a decade younger than him. How did Gene become so well adjusted, anyway? Is there a pill that disaster people like him can take? Important questions. ]

It's killing us both all over again not knowing about everyone else. How are you dealing with that?