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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⤞ PEOPLE-WATCHING THE GRAVES - [OPEN!]
[ Arya has seen enough deaths by now that she's looking at many of the village citizens with new eyes, considering their lives more complexly, and she's taken to sitting near to the grave sites to see how everyone behaves after days of their alters sitting out in the open. Some seem to hate it. Many avoid them altogether. Some though, some can't seem to stay away, and make the same visitations day after day. Arya herself has been to her brother's tomb several times, although except for the first time when she did so unknowingly, Arya has never left another offering.

She doesn't linger too often by her own tomb, the bitter embarrassment rising up too quickly every time she sees it, but now she pauses in front of it, considering her own stone face and Nymeria in her stone likeness. She misses her wolf, but even more, all the other Stark family members that should have their own memorials somewhere. Somewhere out in the dark, perhaps, beyond where they have explored.

It's this eternal question that Arya is musing on when she hears feet approaching, noisily, and she glances up, as ever smooth as silk. ]

I wouldn't if I were you. [ But she says it apathetically, as though she will not fight the choice. ]

⤞ JUST A GIRL AT THE BAR - [OPEN!]
[ Although Arya is no stranger to spirits, she's never taken to the taste too strongly. She prefers ale when she can get it, wine is okay, but the rum from the road is what she remembers the most fondly. The drink she's handed over the bar at the Invincible is not at all what she was expecting, but she learned long ago not to be picky.

She's sipping it with a wrinkled nose when she realizes she's being watched and Arya stops, waits until the offending pair of eyes realize she knows they're watching, and downs the drink in one. ]

Have you been stricken dumb?

⤞ WILDCARD/JULY CATCH-ALL! - [OPEN!]
[ Since a death-based prompt might not work for every scenario and the event spans a few days, hit me here if you have other ideas, PM me with thoughts or reach me at

kaitniss! Arya will be very curious about all the alters the whole time and won't resent anyone for being curious in return, as embarassing as she finds her death. She'll be around the edges of the bonfire after checking out all the graves, slowly gathering supplies for a planned excursion in to the woods. ]

Edited 2019-07-16 04:19 (UTC)

( Javert is one of the few miserable people that wants to stay away from the cemetery, but is wholly unable to do so. He patrols by as often as he can, hoping to catch someone in the act of leaving an offering at his grave, or to keep someone from destroying their own.

He finds neither, this time. Only the young girl he met at the bar a couple weeks ago, who watched him cut off some drunkards from their beer and send them back to their rooms. He approaches her with a hand in his pocket, still dressed in the same black uniform he had when he first met her. )

I know. ( He's already seen enough death, and he can't say he's too eager to see hers as well. He lifts his hand out of his pocket and gestures for her to hold out her own, leaving behind a small coin in her palm before tucking his hand back in his pocket. )

Take it anyway. I hardly have any need for it, here.

[ She recognizes those same strange clothes, of course, but it is the serious expression on his face that she remembers even better. At least she knows that he hasn't come here to make trouble, with anyone, but certainly not with her. She's relieved. Arya isn't much for keeping the law herself (or even keeping to the laws, depending on if she sees fit to break them), but she does not like to be bothered.

She frowns her little frown of interest when he reaches out to her though, and Arya moves forward enough that when she takes the coin, she's no longer standing directly on her grave. In that way, Javert is spared the vision of her death. She turns the coin over in her hand, studying it. ]

I have never seen one like this before. [ And spending years in Braavos, she had seen quite a lot. ] What realm is this from?

France.

( It's nice to finally have someone ask him where he's from, and not when. It puts them on even footing, in a way, being that they don't know anything about each other or the places that they come from. )

That's the name of the country. But the world I am from is Earth, like most here.

( Most of the people he's met, he should say. He inclines his head a little. )

Where are you from?

France.

[ She repeats the word seriously, committing it to memory, even though it is strange to her. Her frown does not disappear from her face when Javert continues, though. ]

Earth? [ His world. Is that like the realms that Arya knows? Is he from some place off her maps, some place like the mysterious ones she was seeking to find when she sailed off into the west? In a way, she now supposes, she has found a new realm. It only took her own death to do so. ] I am from Westeros. It is... somewhat like it is here. Certain things are different. Mainly the people.

[ But given the way he's talking, he's experiencing the same thing. ]

Do they have anything like this in your world? [ She takes out her strange device to show it to him. She handles it carefully, like it's some odd relic she hasn't quite figured out. ]

Not in my time, no.

( And he doesn't understand it anymore than she does. If anything, he hates having to use it. Typing takes forever, he never knows what button to press, and even when he does, sometimes he hits the wrong one. It's annoying, so Javert hardly ever uses it. )

We still send letters. And read our books by candlelight, as we do here.

( He looks up at the girl's shrine, at the large direwolf statue and nods. )

That's your wolf, I take it?

⟪ Well, that's a confusing one.

Melisandre leaves her a wreath of herbs. Fundamentally useless, but it smells nice. ⟫

EVENT LOG: GRAVES

⤞ open starters, catch-all & wildcards!

no subject

back from vacation, good to backtag??

absolutely!

no subject

no subject

(( offering only ))