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

[song_of_ice]

[It doesn't register in his mind, even as he's staring at the statue. He sees the dragon and understands the implication, but even as she tells him that Ned Stark wasn't his father, it still doesn't settle. It's almost like morning mist, never fully touching the ground and flimsy against the rising sun. If he moved, if he thought hard about it, it would disappear.

He looked between Arya to the statue. The dragon curled around his legs, looking up at him, it didn't look like one of Daenerys'. This one was his own, next to him as though it belonged to him completely.

Jon took a step back, as though he were physically pushed. He didn't want to hear this, he didn't want to know it. He had always wanted to know his mother, but not like this and not at this price. The cost was his identity, who he had come to believe he was.

It was gone, dissipated like candle smoke.

Now where was he?]

Who is?

[facelessgirl]

[ She can see the news crashing against him like a wave on the beach, see it registering in his face, and Arya lets go of his hand when he steps back from the statues. She doesn't move, as committed to the truth as she's ever been - as a Stark ever is. He doesn't want to know. But it is too late for that. ]

Your mother was Lyanna. The wild one, they said. [ She should know - she had been told so many times that she looked like her - that she was like her. ] So you are part Stark, Jon. You know that matters.

[ She doesn't know why she is delaying in telling him. She realizes there are tears threatening in her eyes and stubbornly blinks them away. ]

Rhaegar didn't steal her away, Jon. Bran says he loved her. And she loved him. And... [ Why hide the rest when this was already so much? ] And he married her, Jon. He married her.

[ And that's all he should need to be told to see the story true for himself. ]

[song_of_ice]

[He can see the truth of it in the small details from his life, little moments that must have been clues but he had never noticed before. There was a reason that Lord Stark never spoke of his mother, for the same reason he never spoke of Lyanna. It wasn't shame, it was secrecy.

Even in knowing that though, he can't stop his stomach from turning over. In giving one wish, his entire self was ripped away from him, torn from his back like flesh. He felt the pain, though it seemed a distant echo. More than anything, it was sickness that overwhelmed him, all other emotions keeping at a distance. How long before sorrow hit him? Or more possibly, anger?

He takes another step back, wanting distance between the dragon and himself. He didn't know how Bran had this information, apparently it was reliable enough that his brother didn't question it. That didn't make it easier for him to swallow.]

Everything is a lie...

[His life, Robert's Rebellion...it was all too much to carry on his shoulders, but somehow the weight of history was there. He was the reason so many died, the reason for the divide in Lord Stark's marriage. He couldn't process it, not without feeling like he would break against it all.]

[facelessgirl]

Not everything.

[ She can see how fragile he has become with the news, how much he believes her no matter how outlandish what she is telling him is. She's grateful for that, but it doesn't make the truth any easier to accept. There is a deep sorrow in her eyes that was also there that day in the godswood when Bran had told her and Sansa when Jon could not say it himself. Now it seems, he cannot hear it. ]

Not us. [ She steps close to him again, not reaching for his hand but not allowing him more space than he needs. She's staunchly by his side, no matter what happens, and she needs him to know that. ] It doesn't change your true family. No matter... no matter what happened.

[ But it's far too much to speak of now, especially with Jon's world already coming down around him. ]

Father loved you. He protected you, just like you always knew. That hasn't changed.

[song_of_ice]

[As much as he loved Arya, he still pulled away when she reached for his hand. The onslaught of his thoughts, his doubts and insecurities washed over him. He had always known he wasn't a Stark, it was something inside him, something that was unsettled every time he tried to be like Robb or Ned. Apparently it was part dragon, tearing at him with the unseen truth that refused to stay buried.

All of those years that he was tormented by others for being a bastard, ignored and discarded by Lady Catelyn, taunted and knocked down for what he was, Lord Stark knew and never said a word. He had seen Jon as a child, alone and neglected by the only real mother figure in his life. He had witnessed Jon looking longingly at Lady Catelyn and wishing for her embrace as she freely gave it to her children. Lord Stark stood by and said nothing.

His life was saved and he was grateful for that, he knew he owed Lord Stark his life, but it didn't silence the child he had been, angry and hurt that he had been deprived of some sense of his mother.]

My true family? Who is that Arya? [The fire in him had a name now, not quite madness but not the passive honor that Lord Stark had tried to instill in him. Did it come from his father or his father's family? He was Targaryen...the Mad King...Viserys, they were close relatives of his as well. There was no barrier between his Stark blood and his Targaryen, they had mixed and left him as...what he couldn't say, but he'd be a fool to deny the influence of one and not the other.] You mean my grandfather, the Mad King? Or do you mean the men he killed, my other grandfather and uncle.

Aye, he protected him, but he never told me of her! He- [He broke off, ready to strike at the dragon on his grave. He never protected him from Lady Catelyn either.] He knew and he agreed I should go to the Night's Watch. I didn't think a bastard had a place in the world and he never told me.