logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: GRAVES

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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( they're all hurtin'. lord knows. gene closes his eyes briefly, and when that whisky comes to his hand he tosses it back. then he stands up with a deliberate slowness. anger's a thing what comes slow to him, but when it hits he wears it plain in every line of him. he leans with one hand, fingers curled in a fist against the bartop, an' then forward just enough into five's space to make plain his intent.

his voice is soft an' edged with winter and there is a sense now of some manner of restraint that ain't never been present before. )

Ain't a one of us here who ain't hurtin' tonight. If your answer to sympathy is to threaten me, Five, then you can drink alone.

( an' then, havin' said his peace, he turns to go. )

[ there's a moment, where gene stands and leans in, and five cants his head to look at him. smiles, razor-sharp, like a challenge -- and gene doesn't disappoint.

no one is, of course, as calm as this young man appears; no one, and certainly not one who's seen war. five hadn't exactly been trying to bait him, but there is a sort of perverse satisfaction at seeing the cracks. maybe he really is that mean-spirited, or maybe it's something of the commission: always thinking about what makes a person up, what it'd take to break them.

he doesn't say anything in response to that answer of gene's, not that gene seems keen on waiting for an answer, but -- ]

[ says, calm as you like, to gene's back. ]

I saw what happened to you.

[ he doesn't bother offering any kind of apology, doesn't explain that he hadn't known what would happen when he left an offering at the time; it's all excuses, irrelevant to the fact that he knows what he does. ]

Hell of a thing.

( he's bore witness to his own death. mostly because he wanted to see reggie again, an' didn't mind the dyin', and hoped that he'd maybe be able to parse somethin', maybe, of malachi's fate. he weren't hurt so bad as all that.

he'd thought it was a shelling at first. now he knows better. sniper shot. right through the carotid. no wonder he don't have much memory of it, he'd have been dead before he hit the dirt. but reggie featured heavily, an' enough an' in such a way that folks are bound to know that it ain't wholly natural. he never used to walk through walls, when he first died. but the longer he's dead the more he forgets that.

only a fool would fail to recognize the significance, an' five ain't hardly that.

an' maybe that's the most awful thing about it. that this secret he'd sworn to protect, that members of his family have died for, has been taken outta his hands and splayed out like entrails across this new battlefield he's been... fuckin' drafted into. that, coupled with that moment of vivid cruelty on five's face, the delight he'd taken in seein' him pushed puts iron in his spine.

he don't move for the span of heartbeats. just a few. and then he keeps walkin' on without a word. )

EVENT LOG: GRAVES

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