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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Kyna, I wouldn't tell you if I didn't want to.

[ alright. now she's had a drink and he's a little buzzed from his, he's hoping this will come across more messed up in the funny way than the fucked up way. ]

Alright. [ just one more sip, though, for luck. euch. ] That grave out there, the one with my name on it. My daddy traded a couple stolen cows for it when I was six years old. One for him and my momma too. Put 'em outside in the front yard. I used to have to walk past 'em to get to school.

[She snorts, half horrified, and it's only by pure luck that moonshine doesn't go up her nose.]

What? That's fucked.

Ain't it just, [ he says, grimly, and shakes his head with his tongue tucked against the inside of his cheek. ] 'S kinda funny seein' it with the – death date. Like when someone you've known for years gets a new haircut or somethin'.

[Kyna laughs, a sort of awkward, choked sound, utterly humorless.]

Jesus Christ, Raylan. Why did he do that?

Shit, I don't know. Never could understand the man. Arlo's always been far beyond my comprehension. [ he knocks back the last of his drink in one swallow and pauses to clear his throat. ] I remember, I was ten years old and my momma decided she'd had enough of his shit. Packed a bag and took off like she wasn't comin' back. Arlo, he knew exactly where she'd gone – this place called Nobles Holler, everyone heard stories. 'Bout how women could run off there to get away from their shitheel husbands, and the shitheel husbands were too scared to follow 'cause Nobles was a black community. But Arlo wasn't scared. He tied one on first and dragged me with him, drove up to Nobles and stopped at the bridge, and then he got out and set to yellin' for her. Callin' her name over and over. And then this fella shows up on the bridge. Ellstin Limehouse. Tells him he can't come see my momma, she don't wanna speak to him. Arlo went to take a swing at him, I remember I got out of the car to watch, and he pulled his fist back like he was tryin' to set a record, but he didn't even get a hit in 'fore Limehouse just felled him like a tree. Beat the shit out of him, worst I've ever seen a man get beat. Eighteen years in law enforcement and I've never seen it worse than that. I had to drag him back to the car and drive him home myself.

[ the furrow in his brow deepens. he shakes his head a little like he's trying to clear water out of his ears. ] She came back maybe a week later. My momma.

Oh.

[That's... A lot. A lot a lot, and as much as Kyna has gotten better at these sorts of conversations, she's definitely not at her best right now, and she's at an utter loss for words. She reaches for his hand instead, squeezing tight.]

I'm sorry. That's fucking awful.

[ for a second all he can focus on is the touch. if he was the kind of guy who expressed his feelings in a healthy and open way, he'd thank kyna for her attention, for listening to him ramble on about shit that doesn't matter any more and, by all rights, never did. what he does instead is stare, and then, like he's moving through molasses, lift his other hand and put it over hers. just a quick pat before he lets go, but it's something. ]

I was gonna ask if you're holdin' up okay, but. Course you ain't. I'd be worried if you were.

[It's something, and even if its brief, Kyna appreciates it all the same. She forces a wry smile and shrugs a little.]

I thought I'd be able to deal with this shit better, you know? The mindfuck thing. I run into it a lot at home for my job and it happened a lot in Hadriel, but... I guess not.

Well – [ raylan searches for a second for the right thing to say, or at least something approaching that. ] By virtue of somethin' bein' a mindfuck... [ nice word. it reminds him of tim, for some reason. god, he even misses tim at this point. ] Kinda prevents you from ever really gettin' used to it. Much as this kinda thing might've happened to you a lot in these other places, we're dead now. Everything's different.

[ that – kind of makes sense, even to him. he's a little surprised he'd managed to sound so cognizant. ] Don't think you ever told me about your job.

[It... makes sense. As much as she wishes it didn't. She swirls the moonshine in her glass, making a face, and focuses on his question.]

I guess I was... Sort of like a P.I.? Not quite. Where I'm from, there are these special units in city police departments that only deal with magic and curses and monsters. The nasty shit. But for people who can't call the police or who don't want to or who the cops ignore or whatever, there are guilds. My friends and I have one.

[ a lot of this, predictably, goes completely over his head, but he can access a basic level of understanding – sort of like a PI, for people who don't or can't rely on the police. he nods. ]

Huh. Never woulda pegged that for you but – makes sense.

[She tilts her head at him, not entirely sure how to take that.]

How come?

[ hm. how come, indeed. ]

Just didn't expect law enforcement. Or – adjacent to law enforcement. Although, [ he adds, pointedly, lifting a hand, one finger extended, ] certain people tend to say that of me, so I oughta know better.

[She smiles wryly.]

Not all the guilds are awesome. I was in a not so awesome one, for a while.

[ he could ask her what it was that made her describe it that way, but he's at least ten percent aware that he should have some tact. ] How'd you get out? [ he asks instead, open enough that she can explain more if she wants to. ]

EVENT LOG: GRAVES

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