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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[With such a small stature, it doesn't take too long. Tears well up and pour from her eyes, certain she must be dying as her skin purples and her vision fades. There's a loud ringing in her ears, and panic makes her heart work overtime--but she hears him, still, somehow, those words burning themselves into her conscious.

Right. This is just a game, isn't it?

Her limbs go slack as everything goes dark.]

[ He eases his hold once her eyes roll back and she goes limp, dead weight in his palm. There's no real change in his expression, beyond a slight narrowing of his eyes, and Vanitas carries her those last few steps forward to her memorial— where he unceremoniously drops her without taking heed where she might land.

As he pulls the knife out, blood comes with it. It's not the first time he's seen his own blood, and probably won't be the last, but he tosses the blade down next to her body with a clatter and presses his palm against the wound to cycle darkness back into his body and stitch it up.

When he finally leaves the gravesite, satisfied with his discovery, the only other thing left behind is a little inconspicuous rock in front of her shrine. ]

[ she was nowhere near the scuffle — fight to near death — but approaches cautiously amidst her wandering when she feels the cold sharp stab of pain and thinning consciousness.

not death.
but not life after death, either.

then, wanda sees the crumpled form of little mary (the network nine year old who curses, the wandering sprite), and the life force is so frail and web-like wanda gasps aloud as she reaches for her. she's down on her knees, covering the child like a shield, and her hands go around mary's head — fingers threading into her hair.

bending near her nose and mouth, she can't feel breath, no exhalation.
she could waste time with CPR attempts, or she could focus her energy on the tiniest psionic pulse—

—to mary's mind, to her lungs, light as a feather... ]

[Although the bruises around her neck are still clear as ever, the constriction eases on her breath, her chest rising and falling with more regularity, and as the oxygen flows properly, her eyes flutter open. And, without seeing, without properly processing the situation at hand, Mary whimpers and bursts into tears, writhing in panic.]

[ wanda backs her torso away, enough space to give mary room to breathe and re-orient her body and her mind, but she keeps her hands on her shoulders. ]

Mary, mary... [ she hushes in her warm, accented tones, releasing a pulse of calm between the two of them, nothing very invasive (but oh, does she reel with flashes of mary's thoughts, the flashes of fear and rage and vanitas), ] ...Mary, it's alright now. You are safe with me. I am Wanda. You are safe with Wanda.

Wanda...safe. I'm safe with Wanda.

[As she cries, Mary touches her face, her neck, looking around wildly. For a moment, she's more like an animal than a child, but then she calms, mostly due to the influence that the woman uses to soothe her.]

Everything went dark.

[ gently, carefully, she pulls mary into her body — picking her tiny frame from off the ground and cradling her into the cavern of her arms, smoothing her hand through her ruffled blonde waves.

she'd caught the bruises in the dim lantern light. already dark, purplish, angry. how the child's neck hadn't snapped in two is a wonder to her. ]

Safe with Wanda, [ she repeats in a soft murmur, rocking the girl very slowly. ] I saw the darkness. But it's gone now, Mary. You are safe with Wanda.

[ she evens out her breathing, pressing her chest up against the little girl's rib cage. ]

You can breathe with Wanda, yes? [ a confident whisper in her ear, coaxing, calm. ] In... and out...

[Shakily nodding, Mary sucks a breath in and out. In...and out. It gets easier, but it hurts, a throbbing beneath her skin. Even as her tears slow, she wails.]

Owie...ouch...I don't like this. How mean, mean to me, poor Mary.

[It's hard to say if she's talking to herself or Wanda, her disjointed thoughts miserable and confused. In truth, the girl isn't quite so sure what she's feeling. Pain isn't altogether foreign, exactly. She's died, after all. But this is different, somehow. It lingers.]

[ wanda presses a quiet kiss to mary's temple, smoothing her fingers through the girl's hair again. ]

I know, Mary. It was mean. I know it hurts. It will get better — just take slow, calm breaths.

[ she leans back just a little, wipes mary's eyes and cheeks, even her nose, with her sleeves. ]

Do you want Wanda to take you home? Home to your room?

N-No!

[The offer, as gentle as it is, causes her to sit up in a panic.]

I can't go! I have to stay here!

[ wanda holds mary's face in her hands, fingers threading softly into her hairline. ]

Why is that, Mary?

[ she's already had an onslaught of memories of the fight, and she does her best to let the child speak for herself. ]

I wish to get ice for your bruises, your neck that hurts, and keep you safe.

[ wanda glances at the memorial marker. ]

Are you afraid to leave it? The grave?

[Shuddering, Mary nods.]

I have to keep it safe. I have to keep my secret safe.

[ wanda nods back. ]

I understand. Secrets are important, sometimes, as long as they do not hurt anyone.

[ she places her fingers lightly under mary's chin, just a feather touch. ]

What if I take you to your room, then I come back and guard it for you? Would that be alright with you, Mary?

[It had been enough, when others had asked her. And Wanda's being so nice and so kind, it should be easy to say yes. But then he's in her head again. That boy...that boy. Instead of answering right away, her gaze darts down until she sees her blood-covered palette knife. And then, after that, she sees a rock placed at her humble grave, and she knows.]

He saw it! He saw it...he saw! He saw! He'll tell on me!

[ wanda places one hand over mary's, covers both it and the knife, covers up the blood, right in mary's lap. she hasn't seen anything yet, she hopes not to, for the girl's sake, as fearful as she is of this great secret — this side of herself no one must know.

wanda knows exactly how that feels.

her hand is warm and protective over mary's much smaller one, and the weapon beneath it. ]

His name is Vanitas. I know him. I will make sure he keeps your secret.

[ wanda tilts her head down, to make sure to catch mary's eyes, keep them steady. ]

But you must not play with him again. Understood? Not safe.

[Mary breaths heavily, frantic, but as her words sink in she nods.]

You promise?

[ she continues to hold mary's hand; soon she adds her other, like a bond, a covenant. ]

I cannot be everywhere at all times. I know Mary understands that because I am not a god. Wanda died like Mary died. Yes?

[ wanda pulls their clasped hands into the center of their embrace, the child still shielded in her lap. ]

But if I see Vanitas try to harm you, or tell on you, I will stop him. I promise.

[ she leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of mary's forehead. ]

I am going to speak with him about the way he played with you. It was wrong.

[Mary blinks, hiccups, and wipes her face.]

You gave me a kiss!

[It hits her suddenly after a moment--not just the way Wanda's speaking, but the way she's acting, the way she's holding her so gently, like she's something precious.]

That's never happened before.

[ something deep and aching throbs in her heart, a sorrow that pumps through her circulatory system all the way out to her fingertips, where they still hold one of mary's little hands. wanda lets one go, only to thread her fingers through mary's tousled hair, and her smile for her is reverent and steady — like the lantern glow beside them. ]

Is that alright with you, Mary? It is what my mother used to give me. A kiss on my head when I felt sad or hurt.

Is it nice to have a mother? I always wanted one...I thought...I'd be so happy if I had one.

[As Wanda smiles, Mary begins to smile, too, wider and happier, seeming, at least for the moment, to completely forget about the ordeal she just underwent. Maybe it's a coping mechanism, or maybe just a symptom of what she is, the way she can so quickly compartmentalize.]

[ wanda tilts her head down at mary; her smile remains, but she lets the honesty billow through carefully, like spreading out lace. ]

It was nice. I lost her when I was just a little older than you.

[ she keeps her gaze level with mary's. ]

Mothers are wonderful, sometimes. Some mothers are not nice. But I will tell you one true thing — you can be a good, strong, brave girl... a happy girl... with or without a mother.

You lost her? Like I lost my father?

[That's so sad. Why do people go away? Especially when you love them just oh so much? Mary responds with an equal level of honesty, if tinted with the innocence of her evident youth:]

I still want one, even if I don't need one. I want a family! More than anything!

[ this little girl is every beat of wanda's broken heart. the day she lost her parents. the day she lost pietro. then vision, and everyone else.

despite any misgivings, despite all her inner voices telling her not to mislead the girl or disappoint her (for how many times now, how many exactly, has wanda failed everyone she loved?), wanda's will crumbles. she takes mary by the shoulders, her heart brimming in her eyes, and says with every fiber of solemnity she possesses, ]

I will be your family, Mary, if you want me.

[Mary drops her knife. As it clatters against the ground, she throws herself fully into Wanda's arms, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck.]

You mean it? Oh, you'll be my family? Of course I want you! I'll want you forever and ever!

[She just can't take it back. Can't ever, ever, ever take it back.]

[ wanda holds mary tight, knowing full well she has gotten herself in deep with a little girl who has some hyde to her jekyll. but she's handled tougher, and more terrifying, and every bit as precious.

there is nothing more horrifying than a miracle.

that was a lie. foolishness.
what's more horrifying is losing one.

wanda will safeguard this one, right here. for whatever amount of time they have together. ]

You are my family, now, [ she murmurs fiercely into mary's hair, ] and I am yours. Mary and Wanda.

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withsadness - 2019-07-28 17:35 (UTC) - Expand

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