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

the invincible

[evocation]

[As soon as Kyna is compelled to leave an offering at another person's grave, she knows exactly what's going on, and it's absolute bullshit. This is the same crap the gods in Hadriel always pulled, and if she's going to go through this here, too, she might really lose her shit. As soon as the vision ends, Kyna holes up in The Invincible's tavern, and though she grabs a drink, she isn't getting drunk. Yet, anyway.

There's no point in destroying her tombstone. She watches someone else do it and sees a replacement pop up not long after, and besides, she knows from experience that fighting these things doesn't actually work. There's nothing to do but ride it out and do her best to pretend it isn't happening and she isn't having her death thrown in her face.

Her mood is positively stormy, however, shoulders hunched and jaw set. She's gripping the glass like it's offended her personally, and if anyone gets close enough, she'll speak up in a clipped tone.]

Don't go anywhere near that fucking pop up cemetery.

[ultimatums]

[ raylan's been glued to the end of the bar for a long while now, tossing back bourbon like it's water. he sees kyna come storming in, though his strangely immediate urge to go over to her and check in is belayed a little by the thought that had struck him seconds before, to try ordering himself some apple pie moonshine. he shouldn't be surprised that what he gets is essentially what he asked for, though it's nowhere near as good as mags'. it's definitely apple pie 'shine, just not as meticulously put together as the last he drank. he gets a mouthful, swallows, grits his teeth. it mightn't taste as good but it packs the same unpleasant punch. whatever proof this is, it can't be far off mags' 180, even if it's cut the same way with cider, apple juice, cinnamon and vanilla.

he asks for another glass, which he places squarely in front of kyna after ambling over to her spot. ]

Yeah, believe me, I don't need the warnin'. [ he nudges the glass closer to her with his index finger. ] Get some of this in you, kiddo.

[evocation]

[Oh, hey. It's someone she's actually... kind of relieved to see. Kyna uncoils a bit instantly, even as she wrinkles her nose at the glass he sets down in front of her. She doesn't think Raylan will push her to unload all of her deepest, darkest feelings, and right now she kind of needs that easy companionship.

So, she picks up the glass, sniffs it, and then makes a face.]

What is this? It smells like apple juice and gasoline.

[ultimatums]

You ain't far off. [ as if to demonstrate it isn't poison, which is a funny joke that isn't all that funny, he has a sip from his own glass. a seasoned drinker he might be, this thing still kicks like a mule; he clears his throat after swallowing, the burn settling in the center of his chest. ] Apple pie moonshine. Ain't half bad, even if I've had better. You want some company?

[evocation]

[For once, she doesn't shoot back a joke, just hesitates for a second and then nods.]

If it's okay.

[ultimatums]

Sure it's okay. Got nowhere else I'd rather be right now. [ that said, he drops into the seat opposite, puffing out a sigh. his hand, apparently of its own free will, draws over his face before he lifts it to take off his hat and set it down flat on the table between them. ] How you holdin' up?

[evocation]

[Kyna smiles at that, not quite as effusive as usual, but genuine. Almost instantly, she takes his hat hostage and plops it on her head.]

Um... This sucks. A lot. Are you okay?

[ultimatums]

[ it's enough to poke and prod a smile out of him. it doesn't linger, but his whole demeanour has softened considerably. that's not to say he feels generally better, just in the microcosm of this space it's easier to ignore the scope of what's going on outside. ] Well. [ he rubs at the bridge of his nose, grimacing. ] Was doin' a pretty good job of ignorin' the situation until. You know. Humble pie's never tasted so shitty.

[voktys]

Or what?

⟪ There is no need to match the girl's biting tone, and she does stop in her tracks, red eyes fixed on the speaker. Another one, she thinks, who would like to keep death a private matter, but that is nothing to ever have affected Melisandre – too many of her visions dealt in death.

At any rate, she does stop, holding the mug of coffee she had fetched for herself in one and her dimming lantern in the other hand, and tilts her head a little. ⟫

You sound as thought you wish to fight.

[evocation]

[Kyna wrinkles her nose at that. The funny thing is that for once she doesn't want to fight. Her anger is just a formless, directionless thing, made all the worse for the fact that she has no one to blame yet.]

No. I just know fucking with this kind of thing doesn't help anyone.

[voktys]

Doesn't it?

⟪ She speaks as though she knows such situations, and Melisandre is sure to filter that for later. In the now, she sips her coffee, calm as ever. It's a bit of a funny sight, her in all her high fantasy glory, looking fifteen minutes early with off-brand Starbucks. ⟫

I believe it has a lot to teach us, but then, I have lived with visions most all my life.

[evocation]

[Kyna squints at the woman, thrown by such a calm response.]

It's a bunch of graves and enchantment magic. What if people don't want everyone else knowing how they died?

[voktys]

⟪ A practitioner of sorts, then. Her smile seems to turn just a little warmer at that – in some ways, it's not so bad to be far from home for a change. ⟫

Then it bears to wonder why. ⟪ Don't mind her taking a seat close by. ⟫ There are two score of us here, and some children. We'll have to cooperate, and secrecy can make such matters quite difficult. Of course, it's a private matter, but... ⟪ something like a shrug of her shoulders ⟫ it is one we all have in common.

[evocation]

[She shrugs at that a little, reaching for her necklace and running the pendant back and forth along the chain. In a way, it's comforting for her to speak to someone who clearly has experience with magic, too—or visions, at least. Some of her intensity is draining away already.]

People have a right to keep some things secret. Besides, the last place I was at, stuff like this happened all the time. It was because these things calling themselves gods were feeding off of our emotions like fucking leeches. The more we played into it, the more power we gave them.

[voktys]

False gods, then. ⟪ The true God has no need for such things. She notes that the girl appears to relax, her anger making space for other things, and that's a good sign, too. She's no fool – the world has enough of those. ⟫

The shadows of Asshai are best avoided, too – I do not fault your reasoning. I suppose we must walk into the trap at least once, to be sure it is one.

[ryanreynoldsvoice]

Yeah, uh, learned that one the hard way.

[He's under the countertop again, he likes it there. It gives him a sneaky place to watch people and, for the time being, it gives him a sense of being tucked away from everything that's going on.]

...careful with that glass though....you don't want to get a nasty cut....

[evocation]

[Hey, look who it is. Kyna finds herself ducking down a bit to peer under the countertop.]

I'm okay. Are you like... Hiding down there?

[ryanreynoldsvoice]

Not hiding. Observing. It's what a detective does.

[Hiding.]

I'm gonna take a guess and say that you had a less than fun run in with those graves too

[nonscriptum]

Hey.

[ A gentle, brief touch to her shoulder at the bar, followed by the thin and tired smile of a familiar roommate. He shouldn't have been so invasive - he knows she probably would have told him if he asked, but once he started leaving drawings for people it felt unfair not to do so for those he really cares for, and Kyna is one of the few people he knows well enough to warrant it. ]

Mind if I join you?

[evocation]

[Kyna's guard goes down the instant she recognizes Nate's voice, and while she doesn't return his smile, her shoulders do ease up.]

Oh. Yeah, of course. Are you okay?

[nonscriptum]

...is that rhetorical?

[ His smile twists into a grimace and he seats himself at the counter, elbows propped up on the edge. Nate eyes her glass, clenched tight but its contents apparent. ]

I could ask you the same question, since you're- uh. Enjoying hard liquor neat, which tells me you're gonna hit the bottle harder in about an hour.

[evocation]

[She grimaces back, then leans into him, shoulder pressed into his.]

What? Are you speaking from experience or something?

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate flags down the bartender and gestures for the kind of bottle he wants, talking amiably all the while: ]

Oh, yeah. Years of experience. 'Cause I'm so old. You know somebody suggested I was dad-aged?

[ Can you believe? ]

[evocation]

[Her lips actually curve up at that, almost a smile.]

You could have a kid! Technically that's dad-aged.

[nonscriptum]

You could have a kid too, but you don't see me calling you mom-aged.

[ Because that would be just plain rude, and he is doing his damnedest to be a gentleman on this otherwise shitty day. He pours himself a healthy glass of clear alcohol, taking a sip and sucking a breath between his teeth. ]

You okay?