logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: GRAVES

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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Rosinante's had been the first grave he'd come across. It was separate from the others and though he'd seen the new cluster of markers beyond it, he'd stopped short of really noticing what they were. At first he didn't quite understand, why make a grave for someone who had come back from the dead?

Maybe someone had made it when they weren't sure if death was permanent. That was considerate of them, to honor him in that way. He should leave something to help mark it. Incense and food were traditional but he doesn't have the former and wasting the later seemed unwise when he's not sure if the stores will be restocked. There's candles around the makeshift graveyard, and that will have to do.

Kneeling next to the marker he pulls out his tablet and opens it, not to use it, but for the paper he'd been storing safely within. He'd been using it to make notes when he didn't want to use the tablet, and he selects an unused piece and folds it into the shape of a boat. The boat goes near the marker, the candle goes in the boat.

And Kuai is violently thrown into seeing Rosinante's death.

He doesn't have the context, he doesn't know who those people are, or what's happening in the box that's silently thudding behind him. But he comes out of it reeling, on his hands and knees and gasping for air. He clenches his eyes shut, the sudden onslaught of emotions threatening to overtake him and he can feel his eyes scratchy behind his eyelids.

What? What was that? Was that what happened before Rosinante arrived here? He shouldn't know that. He shouldn't be made aware of personal details like Rosinante's thoughts as he died to protect someone. It feels like an invasion of privacy and he at once wants to apologize to the man and also never speak of it again.

He settles for leaving and walking along the shoreline to collect his thoughts, running into the one person he doesn't want to see right now. He pauses, awkwardly looking away before approaching. His formal politeness has no way to properly formulate an apology for witnessing someone else's death from inside their body and knowing their thoughts while it happened.

"I trust you've seen the graveyard that's appeared in town?" He sounds hopeful, maybe if Rosinante has seen it, he won't have to explain anything.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looks over from where he's seated on the beach, sorting through stones. Little pieces of the land by the sea, that's all they are, but they're soft and round and come in such interesting colors. Had his childhood been more carefree, he likes to imagine he would have enjoyed beachcombing for treasures.

"I have," he replies. "Why?"

His own "grave", whatever that marker really is, isn't far away. If it weren't so dark, it could probably be seen from here. Hm.

He sighs, part of him wishing that Rosinante somehow magically knew what he was going to say and therefore he wouldn't have to say it at all.

"I saw yours." He looks away, intensely upset about all this but hiding it behind his frozen mask of monotone speaking, "I'm sorry."

Sorry for what? Seeing it? That he died? He tries again, "I didn't know what would happen."

It's an unsurprising admission. Kuai won't be the first or the only. He probably isn't, already; Rosinante walked away from it a while ago and anyone could have passed by in that time and placed their gifts.

But that knowledge doesn't keep him from deflating slightly, as he lets out a soft sigh and closes his hand around the stones in his palm, then pockets them.

"Everyone's here for the same sort of reason. You don't need to apologize." Except that he does, and he understands. He may end up doing the same when he peers in on the final moments of a few here who went in particularly difficult ways.

Now what, though? Kuai knows more than he had wanted anyone to, and others may learn as well. He's not counting on the modest grave to be completely overlooked by everyone, as nice as that would be.

"There's a difference between knowing, and witnessing." Kuai is pretty sure that Rosinante already knows that. Still, it's why he's here apologizing instead of shrugging it off and going about his day. He feels somewhat dirty, like he's privy to information he shouldn't have but can't give back.

"What sort of magic is making this happen? And for what purpose?" He doesn't expect answers, more voicing his frustration that this should be occurring at all.

"The same sort of magic that brought us here," he suggests calmly as he goes back to sorting through stones. It's easier than looking at the other man, knowing now what he's experienced. All that fear and anger, that need to protect the boy at any cost. The tiny amount of love he still will hold for the brother who protected him as a child, who he refused to shoot. Doflamingo had no such hesitation.

"I couldn't tell you why. Maybe some misguided attempt at getting us to know each other. Team building." It would almost be funny if it wasn't instead so brutally cruel.

"Learn each other's secrets in the most violent way possible." There's a chance someone died peacefully in their sleep, but it didn't seem likely. And this just made things awkward, rather than pulling people together.

His own death wasn't nearly as traumatic, dying in battle was expected and not as emotionally charged as what he'd just experienced. There was slim chance anyone was going to be left reeling from seeing someone die in a huge battle. But dying to protect someone? A person that Rosinante clearly loved deeply?

Kuai didn't know what to do with those emotions.

"Maybe someone here has something to hide and whoever controls this is trying to expose it."

"That's paranoid of you." And not a bad thought. Even if that's not the reasoning behind it, it isn't a bad one. It's why he's collecting all these little pebbles and shells to make offerings with. If someone here died in a way that exposes them as particularly cruel or unjust, a physical or emotional threat to others, then he wants to know about it.

"But then wouldn't that person have to show themselves to take advantage of this? And throwing all our secrets wide open to everyone - if there's someone who's done something wrong enough to warrant it, they're going to be torn apart. Or worse, there will be those who side with them, and then we'll be fighting each other."

"Paranoid or pragmatic? Anything could be plausible here." And he's normally the optimistic one, so this is a fair showing of just how thrown by all this he is.

"If fighting amongst ourselves is the goal, that would be one way to go about it. But I'm merely speculating. It's also likely it's a side effect from the magic that brought our graves here. Or manifested them. I doubt anyone recovered my body to bury it."

Coming from Rosinante, paranoia is hardly an accusation, even if the dry sarcasm might suggest it is. No, there's a healthy amount of concern that should always be taken to ensure some reasonable amount of safety. It's definitely pragmatic, and he nods in agreement while Kuai continues.

Whatever happened to the other man must have been pretty wildly different and devastating. No body to recover? Meanwhile, his own might have been taken in by the other Marines on Minion that day, if he was lucky. That snow was falling fast.

Unpleasant. Not what he wants to think about right now but it's hard to ignore.

"I imagine the one you saw is what mine must look like, if I have one at home. But I guess I don't know. Perhaps if our memories can be invaded and put on display, then whoever did this can draw reasonable guesses from them."

And it occurs to him in that particular moment that this may not be the only time this happens. Other memories may still be displayed for all to see, and he closes his eyes against a rush of nausea. His death is one thing. He didn't die honorably, but he made the best of it. There's no need to hide it, really. But what of everything else?

"Maybe it's what we think they should be. I know my brother has no grave, yet his is here as well." Though what appeared here is probably not what Bi-Han would have envisioned. Unless there really is some portion of him that's still the man he once was.

A thought for another time.

"This could happen again." It's not a question, it's a statement with disturbing implications. Kuai can think of quite a number of things he wouldn't want everyone to see. Some of which he was possessed for so even he didn't see firsthand. "Why would anyone do that other than to torment us?"

An awful question, but one he actually has a tentative answer for. Also, he hates it.

"When I spoke to Nate earlier, when he talked about the world he was in before this, he said it was run by creatures who called themselves gods. They held everyone in a system of caves and used their emotions for sustenance. Maybe it's... something like that."

Please, don't let it be that, because he's not sure if he can take this torture for an eternal afterlife.

"So the point of this may be to manipulate our emotions to feed off us?" Well that sounded horrible, and he'd never heard of such a thing. Which didn't mean it wasn't possible, he was constantly surprised by the cruelty that other beings could posses.

"That sounds like a fate worse than death."

Not only did he hate the thought of being manipulated in any way, but it would be torture to be forced to relive the worst moments of his life again and again. He'd been here for only a few weeks and already he was wishing that death had worked properly and he'd simple ceased to be.

"I don't know. Maybe. What it tells me is that we should prioritize finding out who or what is responsible. The lighthouse keeper seems like our best lead."

But all this talk amounts to little more than what they've already decided. So rather than elaborate, he continues sorting through his rocks. It's still better than thinking about how he died. Certainly better than worrying about Law, who hopefully has found food and shelter and help by now. Who hopefully has found some way to cure himself. He refuses to consider any other alternative.

"Lighthouse is a good option, if anyone knows what's going on it's the person who can reset things." Assuming thats her anyway. And that she'll be helpful. Thats a lot of assumptions and he's not fond of that. But what else can they do?

"We'll find out more. And then we can prepare for what may happen while we're here."

He glances away, wanting to apologize again for the intrusion into Rosinante's final moments, but he also doesn't want to bring it up again. Instead he turns to leave and be nowhere near the geaveyard for a while.

"I have supplies set aside, after everyone has ... Paid their respects we should start out. I'd rather sooner than later."

"Good. Yes. I agree." Something productive, something to look forward to. He needs more of that.

"I think before we commit to trying to trek to the lighthouse, someone should talk to Winters about it. He was the one who said we should leave her be. I'd like to know why. If he gives a good enough reason, we'll have to consider a different direction, like farther upriver than I went last time. I can message him and see what he says."

"That would be sensible. I need to speak to Rastus anyway, so I'll inquire about torches, I think two should be sufficient for our small group. Let me know what you find out from Winters, if he's forthcoming at all with information." He's curious to find out why they should leave her alone if she seems to be the best source of information. Though all three of those who greeted them had been reticent with information, claiming they didn't want to overload the newcomers immediately.

Kuai would rather know than be forced to find these things out arbitrarily. It seemed a test of worthiness that was unnecessary.

"Let's just say I'm not counting on it. But we can ask around the group as a whole. There might already be others who have tried to walk that direction."

After all, they can't be the only people who've wondered, and quite a lot of those he's met here turned out more adventurous and experienced in these things than he had expected initially. It gives him just the smallest amount of optimism that they'll be able to make some progress.

"True. I know some have walked into the forest, but I haven't heard if they've found anything interesting. Well other than the paper bulletin with information that was at the post office." Which is another thing he doesn't understand as no one is claiming to be the one writing that. It can't be the spindly strange forest creature that stands behind the desk.

Well it could but it seems unlikely.

"I'll let you know once I have torches. The supplies are safely stashed in my room."

"And I'll let you know when I hear from Winters," he says with a nod. "I'm going to ask him if he has a map of the stars here already made, too. If not, I'll have to start working on that."

Not every single one, of course. He's not an astronomer. But navigation by starlight is such a valuable aid on a clear night, and the fact that he doesn't recognize the ones here drives him crazy. Ingram's drawing tool will be put to good use.

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EVENT LOG: GRAVES

Lakeshore

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