EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
THE NIGHT WE MET

characters: everyone.
location: the path from downtown beacon to the harbor; all over town.
date/time: february 16-21.
content: the forest spirits send off their friends to join the aurora. memory opals drop from the eerie green lights above.
warnings: n/a.

i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

For most of the day on February 16, all of the town's forest spirits can be found along the stretch of road between downtown and the harbor, clearly setting up for, uh, something. They're piling snow onto the pathway, creating a miles long sled trail that starts outside the Landmark Inn and ends at the very end of the harbor's dock. Not only that, but the forest spirits are also not super willing to explain what they're up to! They're busy, you lantern-havers.

By the time evening rolls around, the spirits have set up wooden railings alongside the snowy path, as well as a warming tent, hot chocolate booth, and announcer stand outside of the Landmark. Oh, and a starting banner for the race! It's dogsled time!

Throughout the event, Beacon's downtown and harbor areas will be completely overrun with forest spirits, all there to bear witness to this holiday celebration—this holiday is for them, though, not you weirdos with your naked faces. Point is, none of the spirits will be hostile at this time! They're more interested in interacting with each other than with Beacon's residents, though if pressed, a kind spirit might be willing to explain what's going on:

The aurora arrives in Beacon for about a week each year, and the forest spirits believe it to be "friends in the sky". The lights are old friends of theirs, it seems! And each night while the aurora shines above the town, the forest spirits send off a handful of friends to join the aurora! The spirits ready to join the aurora build sleds of their own and assemble mighty sled teams, sometimes comprised of dog spirits and sometimes... other stuff. Then, when the aurora is at its peak in the wee hours of the night, the sled teams will ride off one by one, racing down the snow-covered path all the way down to the harbor, where they'll finally rocket off the dock and out over the lake, picking up more and more speed as each team gallops wildly over the water before arcing up into the sky. Once the spirits are barely a speck, they'll hit the aurora and burst into a shower of light. Beautiful stuff!

See, since the aurora is made of light, forest spirits launched into it are killed on impact! Isn't that wonderful! The forest spirits seem to think so! What is death to a dead thing!

All of this information can be learned through handwaved/played-led interactions with the forest spirits during the event. They'll all be focused on saying goodbye to their friends and cheering them on as they stream through the sky, but they're happy to welcome lantern-havers to join in the celebrations. The hot chocolate is free and only tastes a little bit like mud, so. Enjoy!

•••
For the entire duration of the event, the aurora will dance in beautiful silence overhead, lighting up the whole town with its eerie green glow. Every so often, handfuls of opals will rain down like meteorites from the lights above, and these opals each contain the memory of someone currently in Beacon! They can be found all over town, landing on paths and atop buildings and maybe even rocketing straight through your ceiling to crash into your living room. Perhaps a forest spirit decided to hide some shiny rocks in your cereal box or under your pillow... Better hope the Postmaster General doesn't find your opals before you do, though. That spirits sure does love their rocks. Point is, who knows where the opals might turn up?

On that note, if you signed up for a random event, we'll be RNGing characters to receive these random events throughout the event! The event may happen in response to a toplevel on this event log, or we might turn up in your IC inbox... 👀 These events will be entirely random, meaning we could dole out any number of them at any time, so it'll be a fun surprise for all of us.

If you missed signups and would still like to toss your name in the ring, go right ahead! Signups will remain open throughout the event, though we can't promise everyone who signs up will get something.

And finally... Each day, we'll post a list of the forest spirits joining the aurora! What, did you want to know in advance? The forest spirits have never been a particularly organized bunch, so they're winging this—which means more surprises for you. :)

Enjoy the races and the lights and the opals, residents of Beacon, and remember: WHAT IS DEATH TO A DEAD THING!

QUICKNAV
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FOREST SPIRIT SEND-OFFS

[inthenightmods]

Each day, we'll post a new toplevel here with a list of spirits departing to join the aurora! We won't be threading out interactions, but if you'd like to have your character say goodbye/offer a gift/etc. to any of the racers, you're welcome to post it under the toplevel!

SUNDAY

[inthenightmods]

THE SPIRITS RACING ON SUNDAY ARE...

The Squealing Pumpkin
The Stompy Hood
The Face Lifter (cw faces/skin getting ripped off)
The Mushheads

[callada]

Rosinante already has a habit of picking up interesting stones. They're something he's always kind of liked - little bits of the land where it touches the sea, holding the washed up pieces of other people's lives. Beachcombing is more than a way to kill time, it's meditation. It's something he doesn't take for granted the way most do in his world, for he wasn't born by the sea and had to come down a great distance to experience it and the unity it brings.

The opal isn't by the water, but it still draws his eye, and he finds it remarkable how a stone can look so much like water. He bends down to collect it, and is plunged into a memory belonging to someone else. When it has played out, he realizes he's no longer standing, but flopped backward into the snow, and the cold helps bring him back to his senses.

This is familiar, isn't it? Last had been those graves. Now he has little crystalline windows into the lives of the people here and it isn't an opportunity he's going to waste.

While he'll be just about anywhere keeping an eye out for opals and collecting them, he's also certainly going to stop and admire the aurora from the harbor, and in the pale cold lighting he'll be easy to find there.

Alternatively, he might come up to you and say "Hey. I'm sure you've seen those strange new stones by now. Did you find any of mine?" He'll be fairly direct about it, because he would sure like to have them back.

((Feel free to pick up more than one of his own memories if you like! There are many copies of the three not specially marked. If you want to write your character reacting to one but don't necessarily want a full blown thread afterward, feel free to just respond to one of the memory posts with a reaction.

Also note that Rosinante will be actively looking for and collecting opals but may not necessarily be giving them back or even saying anything to your character if he saw a memory of theirs. If this is a problem, please let me know! I'm happy to hash things out in pm, on plurk at tinylongwing, or at my ooc plotting comment.))

1. Sengoku

[callada]

1. Oh my stubborn son I know you said you need no one,

"Rosinante?"

His name drifts on the wind across the property on the east side of Marineford Island to where it reaches him, still just a boy but quickly growing. He's as spindly as the goat was when she was young, all legs and skinned knees , though without a taste for most of what she chews on. He breaks off from chasing her across the yard, for she's stolen a towel off the laundry line but every time he tries to catch up to her he ends up tripping over his own feet and tumbling face-first into the grass. It's not a bad thing to have an excuse to stop trying.

His new white shirt is already green with grass stains as he runs instead into the house, beaming. Just earlier that day, under his old man's proud gaze and that of a dozen other parents, he had sworn his oath to uphold justice and joined the Marines. Finally! Sengoku had other work to attend to afterward, of course, but now he's finally returned home and Rosinante throws himself into Sengoku's arms as he crouches and gives him a squeeze.

"Congratulations, son," Sengoku says warmly. "And happy birthday, too! I brought you something."

"Really?" Rosinante responds excitedly as he pulls back, and ends up just dumping backward right onto the floor. But he's quickly back on his feet as Sengoku hands him a long, flat rectangular box wrapped in blue paper with a white ribbon, which makes him smile. How fitting for the occasion. It's heavier than it looks, and he carries it to the table and has a seat to unwrap it while Sengoku gives him something of an exasperated smile, shaking his head a little as mud and a few bright spots of blood from a cut on Rosinante's shin ends up tracked through the room.

But Rosinante is focused on the box and its contents and doesn't notice Sengoku briefly vanish. He pulls off the ribbon, tears through the paper, then turns in surprise when a bandage is stuck onto his leg. "You're all right, go ahead," Sengoku says, now behind and at his shoulder, and so Rosinante opens the lid to find a pistol. Immediately, he's in love. It's not as fancy as some, not as big, but it's his and he gasps as he runs a hand over warm wood and cool metal.

He doesn't get gifts every birthday. Sengoku raises him well but he's busy. He forgets sometimes. He's glad he was remembered this year, and so spectacularly. He's rendered speechless for a moment - though this time because he's so happy he doesn't know what to say. A pistol! A real one, not a toy -

"Here, careful," Sengoku says with a chuckle as he reaches out to help contain his excited wave of the gun in his hand. "It's not loaded, but you should always treat it like it is. Come on, let's go outside."

It's already dark, of course - his old man always has to work late. There won't be any shooting practice tonight, but he's given a few tips on how to handle and aim and clean it. They wind up seated in the grass with the goat sprawled across Rosinante's lap by the time they're finished. "Can we shoot it tomorrow, though?" Rosinante exclaims. "When it's light?"

"If there's time after your classes and afternoon chores," Sengoku agrees. "I'll teach you. But there's a lot more to being a Marine than shooting a gun. You'll have to pay close attention to your instructors. You have to learn how to sail, and how to be part of a team. How to stay calm in a tense situation, and how to stay safe."

For a moment he looks up at Sengoku, unsure why he's being told this. The latter two things are things he learned a long time ago. But it clicks, after a moment of searching the older man's eyes. There are ways to do that that aren't running and hiding, holing up quietly. As a Marine he has to help keep other people alive, too, not just himself. So he nods, thinking he understands.

"Yeah, I know," he says seriously, with all the wisdom a thirteen year old can muster. "I'm ready."

"Good," Sengoku replies, suddenly sounding somehow older. He must be tired. Rosinante knows that being an Admiral can't be an easy job. Sometimes he's jealous of the other kids, whose parents get whole days off to spend with them sometimes. Who have siblings and friends and whole families. But he knows why he can't have any of that, why his life can't ever be normal, so he just nods in response and stands up. "Bedtime for you, then," Sengoku says as he stands as well. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

peter parker

[webshoots]

—quentin

[webshoots]

I'm going to take my hands away now, alright? The big reveal, [ peter says, half a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. it's a view he's seen countless times before and it never quite manages to stop being breathtaking. it only makes sense that he'd share it with her. there's a breath of a pause and peter glances down. it's so funny to think that he'd been scared of heights once upon a time.

he hums. it's a contemplative, teasing noise, then— ] No, I don't think you're ready.

[ I'm ready! I'm totally ready! the woman — mj says. he can feel her eyelashes fluttering against his gloves, and he shifts his pinky fingers slightly to allow a sliver of light to pass through. ]

You say you're ready, but you're not... [ the teasing tone remains. he thinks mj must have an inkling — the air is different up here: it's colder, windier, and the noise of the city below is distant enough that it's hard to believe they're in manhattan without seeing it.

(speaking of—) ] But after I went to trouble of getting us up here, [ he continues, slyly, before whipping his hands away from her face and dropping them to her shoulders to make sure she doesn't fall. ] —We're going to have to work together to get down. [ he finishes with a laugh. he thinks his words have got lost with the sharp inhale of breath mj takes as she takes in the view.

oh my god, peter! she exclaims, and he can't help but feel a little smug. it's just spider-man things, you know? he doesn't say that—

peter, this view— she says, it's— thank you for this, she finishes, cupping his face in her hand and pulling his cheek towards her lips.

(yep, there's that smug feeling again—.) the corners of his lips pull even further upwards into a grin and he tries to stay quiet, tries not to say anything, tries to just enjoy the moment, but then mj pulls away from him and leans forward. she inhales again, sharply, and there's a pause before she exhales loudly and audibly—

man!

and he laughs, again. ] There are brief and fleeting moments where my life is totally awesome, yes. [ he acknowledges, hands sliding from her shoulders down her back and resting on her hips.

she extends a hand and runs it through her hair, brushing her fringe up and away from her face and there's a fleeting thought that maybe he should have brought a hair tie.

"seriously, tiger! this is the greatest view of the city ever! it's all spread out down there, you know? so tiny and perfect, it looks like an entire world of possibility just waiting for us."

it's not the grandest moment — as far as these things go, it's quite a small moment: how many buildings and rooftops has peter taken mj to before? he's lost count, but each time it's like they find something new to love about their life together and the city.

he wishes he could take her out for expensive dinners, to fancy shows and to extravagant events, but he can't. what he can do is this, and he thinks that as long as they have these moments, their life is as perfect as he needs it to be. ]

rosalind lutece | ota

[originallutece]

one; cw: luteces being super into self-cest

[originallutece]

[The scene: a house. A home, really, decorated in deep reds and golden hues, the walls blockaded by wooden bookshelves packed tightly. It's the dead of summer, and in acquiesce to the heat, the windows are open, the curtains drawn to maximize any stray breeze that might wander in. It's not so bad. Hot, but not unbearable.

Somewhere, a radio is playing scratchily.

Rosalind sits on the couch, her hair down and her bare feet curled under her. She looks a little more archaic than she does nowadays in Beacon: her corset tight and her skirt long, but still: between her thin skirt and the drink dripping condensation onto her end table, she seems cool enough. Head bent over her book, though after a moment she sighs sharply and glances up.

As if on cue, a man comes in. He's tall and slender, his clothing undone in the same way Rosalind's is: his collar open, his sleeves rolled up. But what's most noticeable about him-- what's truly remarkable, in fact-- is that he's Rosalind's double.

From their hair color to their freckles to the way they both move, they're identical. But it seems the man has a bit more good cheer, because it's him who smiles as the song changes, and it's him who reaches for Rosalind, fingers sweeping through her hair to smooth it back.

Dance with me, he tells her, and glory be, but she smiles.

To this drivel? she retorts, but she's already getting to her feet, watching as he closes the windows, cinches the curtains tight, making sure no prying eyes peer in.

Drivel you enjoy, as their hands meet, as she lines herself up with him, her posture horrendous and her limbs loose. Criticize Albert all you like, Rosie, but you have to admit: it's better than more American patriotism.

I suppose, she retorts, but it's a reply without heat. Already they're moving, stepping as though guided by an invisible spectator, their movements eerily graceful and in time with one another. Rosalind hums softly, already familiar with the song, her eyes locked up on the man before her. She's still smiling, soft and sweet, something like adoration in her eyes. It's mirrored in the man's expression, the two of them caught in utter rapture.]

eddie kaspbrak | ota

[casts]

—and those little things define us forever, forever

[casts]

( you come home with your knees bloody, scrapped from hitting pavement after falling off your bike but you linger at the doorway.

you find yourself more scared of what's on the other side of that door than you are of bowers and his gang. how long has it been since you started being afraid of coming home? it must have started after dad died. cancer, mom had wailed and cried. some days its like it just happened yesterday and not when you were five-years-old. it makes you wonder if things had always been like this or if dad's death had set things into motion.

ultimately, once a street light flickers on, you finally push your way inside and brace yourself for what is to come. once she sees you, sonia kaspbrak is already near in tears because you've stayed out too close to dark but that says nothing of the dark look that comes over her features when she sees the blood spilling down your knees, soaking and staining your white socks.

you don't even get a word out before she has a large hand on your shoulder, yanking you into the bathroom where suddenly everything smells of alcohol and other antibacterials. it stings, water in your eyes but it doesn't stop her from scrubbing, picking and cleaning until you're deemed clean enough. all you can do is hold the toilet seat white-knuckled as the process repeats itself on your other knee. she hates your friends, she makes it clear and what a bad, terrible influence they are. you shouldn't see them anymore. you should just stay home where you're safe, safe, safe.

it's only when you're inhaler is pushed into your hands that you realize you've begun to panic, your breath wheezy, unfocused and near shaking. with shaky hands, you bring it to your lips and breathe in deeply.

"did you hear me, eddie bear?" your mother says in a tone that is almost nurturing, caring until she scrubs down against your knee again with an alcohol soaked pad. her own hands covered in sterile, white gloves.

"ye— yes. sorry, mommy." )

Jason Grace | OTA

[notthatjason]

I. Opal Hunting
[It was difficult to miss the light show, but Jason couldn't help but be drawn out to get a better view. The aurora was breathtaking, something he had never seen in person back home but had always thought about. He misses the first one that falls from the sky, but it's hard not to notice as more continue to drop out of the upper atmosphere.

He tries not to think about them being parts of spirits -- he'd seen them throwing themselves into the sky earlier -- but they seemed to have ceased races for the day. Jason notices a few shiny rocks poking out of the snow and leaps off of the roof of the Invincible.

The light glints off of the rocks and Jason bends over to pluck one out -- only to black out for a second as he's delivered a strange memory. He blinks it away, rocking on his feet.]

Woah! What was that!

[He looks around and then down at the rock. He thought he recognized the name in the memory. He slips it into his pocket, taking off to find them, but stops occasionally as he spies others.]

II. Points of Memory: Wild Card -- open to anyone who didn't ask for a memory already
[Jason's memory opals are scattered around Becaon, just like everyone else's. Should you pluck one up, you will find anything from good times with friends to heated battles against monsters and giants. You may even get to fly. Does his opal catch your eye? Pick it up and find out.]

III. Points of Memory: Plot Generated
((ooc: Find below the top level for the memory we discussed in the plotting post. You can either post a reaction or we can thread something out if you prefer))

III. Closed to Rosi

[notthatjason]

You’re standing at the prow of a ship. The wind blows through your hair and tugs at the toga and purple cloak you’ve donned over your orange camp shirt and blue jeans. Your fingers are gripped tightly around the hilt of a sword -- partly out of fear for a fight, but also for something solid and familiar to hold on to. The scene itself would almost be a familiar one if the boat was cutting through the waves, but instead what stretches before your eyes are gold-and-green rolling hills. This place was home...is home? You can’t be sure any more. Of the people on board this ship you’re the only one familiar with what you are sailing towards, so you know you need to put on a brave face.

You notice familiar landmarks now: the hippodrome, the coliseum, various temples and parks. It’s beautiful, but there are signs that there was a recent battle: cracks in some buildings and craters along the roads. It makes you frown. It was your job to lead the legion and because of the gods you hadn’t been here when you were needed. There’s no time to dwell, however, as among the buildings and on the streets you begin to notice figures moving: dozens of kids in togas like your own rushing out to see the ship you’re flying in on. You hear horns now, blowing and turn your gaze on the small army beginning to gather along the gates.

You brace yourself and sure enough there’s a loud BOOM. You turn in time to see a blonde girl, Annabeth, being accosted by a living statue. The statue was human from the waist up, though the rest of him rested on a pedestal. He had appeared out of nowhere on the ship and was clearly outraged.

“I will NOT have weapons inside the Pomerian Line! I certainly will not have Greeks!”

You move forward, holding a hand up to Annabeth, “Terminus. It’s me. Jason Grace.”

The statute looks less than pleased, “Oh, I remember you, Jason! I thought you had better sense than to consort with the enemies of Rome!”

“But they’re not enemies --.” A young woman with choppy brown hair wearing pink and white strides forward. She’s opening her mouth to agree and you can’t help but smile a bit in admiration. Leave it to Piper to take charge of this situation. The memory fades.

Bucky/Soldat | OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Discovery

It's hard to miss the activity that the spirits are up to, and Soldat watches with interest while on their patrols or when moving between buildings for various other tasks. Pausing to ask polite questions with a combination of Morse Code and what spirit language they can sing garners an interesting explanation, and they make sure to be out by the docks once the races start, to watch the conclusions with amiable curiosity.

When the spirits start launching into the sky, however, they're... unsure. Is that actually merging with the light? Or is it, er, actually dying...? Not that they think the spirits would mind their own second death, exactly, given their conversation with Owl Friend, but it's still a little disturbing.

Even more disturbing to start finding the shiny little stones all about, after watching them fall as if they were... pieces of the missing spirits.... Picking them up in the metal hand does nothing, but tossing them to the flesh hand brings... a vision. A memory.

Soldat stands in the snow for a long time staring at the opal in their hand, after that. Might even be some tears running down their cheeks, in the almost-bright-as-day light.


II. Hunting

While they don't let it interrupt their necessary activities-- patrols, sleep, meals, and checking in with their handlers and people on their personal "watch over" list-- things like arm maintenance and cleaning the cabin fall to the wayside as Soldat starts spending their free time hunting down memories hidden inside opals. It's too great a temptation, finding things from their own mind that they've lost, and too great a risk, letting people-- children, even!-- find pieces of the Winter Soldier. Not safe for Soldat, and not pleasant for whoever finds it. Besides, that name might be in them... the fewer people start trying to use that, the better. Preferably no one.

So Soldat can be found for a couple hours in the "morning" and a couple hours in the "evening", prowling around in the snow, one ear on the spirits' celebrations and the other alert for threats (as always), eyes largely on the ground. There's a small bag dangling from their metal hand, full of scraps of fabric and found opals, whether to keep for themselves or for return to their rightful owners.


III. Delivery

When discovering a memory that doesn't belong to them, Soldat is as respectful as they can manage. Because they do, in fact, find a lot of memories that don't belong to them. That just kinda happens when you're picking up every opal you come across, hoping it's something new for your own patchwork brain. When it's not, well, they wrap the opal up in a spare scrap of fabric to keep its appearance private, carry it in the metal hand so that they can't accidentally relive the memory a second time, and seek out the proper owner immediately.

"Found one of yours," they'll say, after knocking on a door, approaching in a public place, or even finding someone at another task. "I'm sorry. You should have it."

The frankly rude invasion of other people's privacy doesn't stop them from seeking out more, though, no matter how badly they feel about it. They can't convince themselves to stop looking for the missing pieces of themselves, just because they found pieces of someone else along the way.


IV. Return

Of course, Soldat isn't the only one out hunting for memories, and they're definitely not the only one finding their own. Other people can easily come across small, rounded matrix opals, silvery white with sparks of blue and red in them, buried in pieces of ordinary sediment rock. Should people wish to return the memory-opals, Soldat is at least easy to find at various times of day, given their routine almost never varies.

(People might also notice a new addition to their usual tac gear and/or layers: a smallish hand-made charm, attached to the braided wire and twine of their lantern, with dangling glittery owl feathers. Not their usual style, but still wearing it anyway. It's a gift and they love it.)

III Delivery

[afoolshope]

Minato blinked up at Soldat and then at the opal in his hand. Which memory did he see? He took it from him and it became clear which one it was. He wasn't sure of Soldat was the questioning type, he hadn't to talked him since their first meeting. He pocketed the opal and nodded.

"Er... thank you," He finally said. "Sorry if it... freaked you out."

He didn't look easily freaked out but it wasn't exactly every day you walked around a town with blood and coffins everywhere due to the literal time of day it was, the moon hanging huge and yellow among a very green night sky.

Minimus Ambus | OTA

[legalcy]

The Aurora

[What is death to a dead thing, indeed.

To say that Minimus was not the least bit surprised when the sledding spirits vanished from existence would be a lie, but then he supposes that the residents of this planet have their own customs he must respect. It feels unbecoming to ask the spirits about their philosophy regarding this passage from death to final death.

He does worry if he'll see the bedsheet spirit among the soon-to-be-departed.

The light is quite lovely, and it gives him a better view of the dirty corners of Beacon. Without the need for a lantern or torch, Minimus walks through the village and downtown area sorting opals and straightening supplies.

Near the end of each day, however, he sits alone in view of the sled teams, working on his tablet.]

Memories

[Perhaps you find a green and blue opal on the ground and are transported into a memory of a robotic alien society. It's easy to tell to whom it belongs unless you see one centered on a massive blue robot. Odd.

Will you keep them, or will you return them to their owner?]

Wildcard!

[Come up with your own prompt or request a different memory that your character can interact with! Reach me a mutanthairything for plotting.]

( prompt: memories, dominus and rewind; text. )

[sunborne]

[ minimus will get a message from daylight during the middle of the event, the reply surprisingly brief: ]

Hey Mr. Ambus,

I have one of your memories when I was out helping the spirits during the races. Stumbled upon it when trying to get some sketches and stuff.

Anyways- Yeah- Can I visit you in-person to make sure you get it? The spirits have been kind of weird re: the opals so I want to make sure it's with you.

Stone | OTA

[scarsolderthanyou]

I. Weird customs are weird

"I knew a groundling culture once that assigned people their homes without consulting anyone's opinions," Stone comments with a shrug, once he discovers about the spirits' strange tradition of dog-sledding to the sky. "And another one who staked their loved ones out to be eaten by birds to try and send them to their gods. Culture is weird."

He's really more concerned with the whole can actually see shit thing. With the light from the aurora, his vision is in fact much, much better. He can see distances again! He can look out into the murk and actually see something! It's amazing!

Stone actually shifts up to his winged form eventually, finds a patch of ground that's not too cold, and spreads his wings to attempt to bask. It's one of his favorite passtimes, and he hasn't been able to do it, with no light to bask in.


II. Pelted By Memories

Of course, being a very large creature with wide-open wings and a long tail splayed out means he actually gets opals landing on him. It actually stings a little, and his head comes up and swivels around, spines all standing on end and teeth showing a little bit. Between the sting and the sudden vision of someone else's life, he's absolutely startled.

He shifts down to try and find the damn thing, and so can be found patting the snow and growling under his breath. "Hey! Hey, get over here and help me, something hit me and now I can't find it." Because he still can't see worth shit up close.


III. Rest of the Time

Stone is not particularly worried about finding his own memories. There's nothing in his life he's particularly embarrassed about or ashamed of. But he's available to try and return things that he stumbles upon, and to try and return his own to him, usually around the Invincible or the harbor with the spirits.

Pelted by memories

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Quentin is walking around town, not actively looking for the opals, but he's also not shying away from them.

He is, however, being very careful before picking them up. Which... tracks. Because the first two knocked him on his ass and now he sits down, legs bent and if he can, he'll find something to sit against.

And he reaches out, slowly closing his hand around the opal on the ground.]

Maes Hughes | OTA

[dadandgone]

1. Found
[While the new light source was much appreciated and the spirits' shenanigans were stranger than usual, it was hard for a man so concerned with information NOT to immediately start searching for opals once he learns what they contain.

It's not that he really wants to violate other people's memories, but it could be an interesting look into the people he has been helping survive this place for so long and honestly anything that helps him forget that encounter in the woods is a blessing. He spots one buried in the snow and while he knows he could end up with worse images, plucks it up anyway.]

2. Lost
[Maes's opals are scattered everywhere, usually a deep blue with hidden depths inside. It's risky, Maes has seen combat that he never talks about, but you're just as likely to stumble across a memory of a sleeping child or smiling wife. Do you take that risk? Just say you pick on up, and I'll write you a memory.]

3. Locked
[Closed top levels to follow.]

-- Fjord

[dadandgone]

The sun is going down, which will bring some relief from the heat, but considering how long you’ve been digging this hole it won’t be nearly enough. Most of the work has been done in awkward silence, between the three of you it would seem that none of you know what to say after that fight. Your cheek still stings underneath the bandage, and you know your hands are going to be pretty blistered as well from shoveling for several hours.

You hear your rival, Roy, speak first, directing his question towards the Ishvalan you’d both jumped into the fight to help. “You haven’t told us your name yet.”

The Ishvalan pauses, his shovel half-filled with dirt. He dumps it and replies, “Heathcliff.”

You snort, tossing your own shovel load of dirt out of the hole, “Yeah, you kinda look like a Heathcliff.”

You feel Roy’s eyes on you, but he seems to be continuing the conversation in Heathcliff’s direction, “So, Heathcliff, what drove you to sign up for the academy anyway?”

“For the sake of my fellow Ishvalans. I hope to climb the ranks and someday abolish discrimination within the military.” It’s a noble answer, one that is difficult to make fun of since it’s clear that discrimination starts early on. You glance over at Roy, wondering what his excuse is since surely it cannot be so noble as well.

“And what made you enroll, Golden Boy,” you ask Roy.
“Look at Amestris. We’re surrounded by other super powers. I intend on doing everything I can to defend this nation. Even if that means dying by the wayside to do it.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. He really is an idealitst Golden boy if he thinks that is a good reason to go to war. People die all the time, you’d certainly encountered enough of that growing up. “Well then that’s where the two of us differ. I can do without the dying part, I’ll live off of weeds if I have to.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you even bother enrolling?”

You stop shoveling, planting your spade firmly into the dirt. The others pause as well and you smirk at them, “You’ve got dreams of protecting the country, but I want to protect the woman I love.”

“Wow. She must be one hellava girl.”

Your grin widens, you can’t help it. These guys really are too gullible. They seem to think you already have a girlfriend. If only you were so lucky. You can’t keep up the lie and add, “Yeah, she will be. I just haven’t exactly met her yet.”

Roy and Heathcliff stare at you for a moment before bursting into laughter, a strange sound coming from three military academy cadets in a hole in the ground.

richie tozier / it - ota, will match format

[trashmouthed]

- a token, cw: homophobia, bullying, hate speech

[trashmouthed]

[ You're taller than the rest of your class by four or five inches but you still feel small. People make you feel small, that's normal, it's typical so you keep a chip on your shoulder and wear a track into the carpet of your favorite haunts. The best one is called "The Aladdin," and those letters illuminate every hope and desire you've ever had in your life.

Inside you can get lost in the alternate realities of Galaga, Centipede, Mrs. Pacman, but you're the best at Street Fighter. Nobody can beat you at Street Fighter and you're damn near untouchable.

The shit people have said about you, your knobby knees, your razor-sharp elbows, your glasses, your buckteeth. None of that matters, you're the king of this domain. You play people for their tokens, for extra games, and more opportunities to beat your high score.

"You want to spend your summer in the Arcade?"

Eddie's voice and the look of the other losers are still imprinted into your mind, doubtful, skeptical, judgmental and you don't need them. You don't need their pity.

It doesn't take long for you to make quick work of your current competition. He's blonde, with curly hair and gentle blue eyes, and looking at him for too long makes it hard to concentrate. He reminds you of Cory Haim, and it takes you a minute to place that but he might as well have walked right out of The Lost Boys. Unlike your other challengers, when you're playing he's not just some bystander or spectator. It feels like he's rooting for you too, and when you gamble his last token away from him he's quick to throw in the towel. Nobody in Derry, Maine is made of money.

"Man, you're good."

Sympathetic, and maybe a little too frantic you offer one of your tokens to play an extra game. No man can be an island, right? The lucky seven might have split off, but why shouldn't you make some friends on your own? Blue eyes stare right back into your soul, hopeful, but Hockstetter and his band of buffoons get out of a movie just in time to ruin your day. Their only real talent in life has been making you suffer and it continues to be their primary goal.

"Dude. Why are you being weird? I'm not your fucking boyfriend."

Your eyes move from that tall mullet-wearing douchebag to the guy you were having a good time with moments earlier. It takes you a couple of seconds to realize that those words were directed at you, "Woah, I- I didn't-"

"What the fuck's going on here?" Great. Now, it's a scene - you can hear the rest of the people around you fall into a hushed rumble of whispered voices. Hockstetter's walking up from the theater boxes ready to make waves and it shouldn't hurt you when the guy says it but Cory Haim turns back toward the four of them with too much ease in his words and it does. "You assholes didn't tell me your town was full of little fairies?"

Is everyone on the fucking planet an asshole or is this something Derry specific?

"Richie Fucking Tozier? Wait- you trying to bone my little cousin?"

What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Hockstetter is close, so close there would be no point in running or standing your ground and the whole thing is so out of the left-field all you can do is stand there, lips parted in shock, hands open-faced and down at your side. Still reeling. How the hell did it go from having a good time to this?

Then, at the top of his lungs: "Get the fuck out of here faggot!!!!!!"

The entirety of The Aladdin goes silent, and your feet move without much prompting at all. Small backward steps, no point in taking your eyes off of those guys. Not when you can't trust them. Nobody else says a word, and a small glance over your shoulder makes it clear that they won't. Why would they?

"Fucking move!"

The Aladdin was the one thing you had left to distract you. The one thing that you could count on to bring you some sense of self and success. Now that was gone, and you're proud of yourself for not making a scene and lucky that it didn't end up something way worse. Once you push through the door, your nerves rattle back up through you like a swift wind. Every time your feet hit the sidewalk it feels like you're running across hot coals and you don't break down until you make it to the park, unoccupied, so nobody has the satisfaction of knowing what being treated like that actually did to you.

You know that a boy that loves other boys is a dead boy and that plenty of bodies had been buried here for less.]

[afoolshope]

Watching the Aurora - OTA

[ Minato isn't really disturbed by the dogsled event leading to the spirits essentially killing themselves by flinging themselves into the aurora. Despite all that he has come to learn and love about the world and humanity, death itself still doesn't bother him that much. Besides, spirits were spirits and if this is what they enjoyed then who was he to disturb? He found his Answer to Life, others would have to figure theirs out on their own.

So, Minato instead bundled himself up and simply sat out on the sidelines, cradling his hot chocolate and merely smiling at any spirits cheering their brethren on and watching them burst to light upon hitting the aurora. A kind spirit had told him what was going on, so he sat to watch the show, headphones hooked to his tablet and listening to music from the new application on it (yes the soundtrack is, in fact, canon to the game itself don't question it). ]

Changing Seasons - Wild Card

[ List of memories are here, although if you are familiar with Persona 3 and want a memory not listed, go for it! Just let me know before hand so I know what I'm getting :3 ]

Memories of You - Pre-Planned

[ Top Levels below! If you want one, let me know at the OOC post above or contact me at mossflowered! ]

Sora

[afoolshope]

There's a bone-deep weariness that doesn't just permeate your body, but your very soul. It's almost time. But you must fulfill that promise you made, there's simply no choice. You walk up the last steps after taking several moments to catch your breath, your hand on the window next to you. The doors look so far away, the bright light of the clear, spring day nearly blinding you through the windows.

But you must do this, you forced yourself to stay for an extra month for this. You walk up those steps, your knees threaten to buckle every time. But you make it to the top, desperate to get those doors open. The light nearly blinds you but you dare not close your eyes, you have to see, have to know, if one of them, any of them, made to the rooftop. The light fades as your eyes adjust and there... is Aigis. She turns to you with a warm smile on her face, the warmest you've seen on the robot in a long time even as it's tinged with sadness.

"We meet again," She says softly. She's the only one there, the reason for the sadness. The others have not yet remembered. Would they? You're not sure, but there's nothing but love in your heart for them anyway. You just continue to hope. It's almost time. You smile at Aigis and begin to walk toward her and she does the same.

The wind is warm, pleasantly so. But your knees finally buckle and with a grunt, you nearly fall. Aigis is there to catch you and gently lower you to the ground. She holds you tight. "Welcome back, Minato."

Soon, she had your head in her lap, resting on one of the many stone benches on the rooftop. The stone in warmed by the sun, threatening to lull you to sleep as does Aigis' hand on your head, gently stroke your hair. You dutifully keep your eyes open, watching her as the spring breeze continues on. Sakura petals wisp by. She speaks to you with that smile on her face. "The breeze feels nice, doesn't it? I finally understand now. The end that will surely come. Only those who were able to face the truth that it will come to them will be able to find it. What it is that proves that you're alive. I have found it, too. My reason for living, my purpose for living." She looks down at you, tears shining in her eyes. "I... I want to go on protecting you, forever. I want to lend you my strength. That's what it means to me, to be alive."

She places her hand on yours, but you lift one of yours to her face. "Don't cry." Your thumb wipes some of the tears away. It's exhausting to do even that, but you want to do it anyway. It's the least you can do. It's almost time. You smile up at her, small and tired.

"You must be exhausted," She continues. "You should get some rest now. I'll always be here for you. You'll be seeing the others soon, too. You have nothing to worry about. I'll always be by your side, protecting you."

You sigh softly, so, so tired... and then.

"Heeeeyyy!! Minato!!" You blink and turn your head. Your vision has since blurred terribly, the world becoming almost too bright. But you see them. They continue to call your name as they run to you. There's even a bark! The world grows ever brighter and blurrier but you smile. You smile and you close your eyes. They came, you precious friends came as promised.

It was time and the world eventually fades away. You're so very sorry you can't stay awake for much longer, but you also have no regrets.

None at all, except perhaps... to have a little more time with them.

Your friends' voices are the last thing you hear.

Daylight vis Lornlit | Original.

[sunborne]

i;; and you're one year older. (a childhood memory.)

[ it's so bright.

that may be the first thing the person experiencing this memory will think when the memory kicks in and the summer sunshine pierce their vision, especially with how long it's been since they've been in direct sunlight. but when the over brightness fades and scenery takes place, this is what they'll see:

it's summer, wherever they are. the skies above are bright and blue, the scent hot and full of promise with sugar and spices mingling in the winds. every time a gust of cool air comes down the street, bright blue flower petals from the flowers strewn up and down the street will waft about, drifting and dancing in the air.

at the end of the street is a cul de sac and a street party happening at the moment, a small but lively group of individuals - humans and galateions alike - mingling and laughing with one another as they drank and ate themselves merrily. tables have been set up, the surfaces almost filled to the brim with foods and sweets and lots and lots and lots of presents for the celebrant. music is being played from somewhere and the song is cheerful and loud, crooning about how they hope the person of honour will stay alive long enough to see twenty-five.

and a banner, one that reads 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAY!', hangs on the front of a house that is grand and proud despite signs of age and weather getting the best of it at times. ]

Kiddo! Come over here!

[ the little bitty, the size of a human child, looks at the direction of whoever is calling him. his budding winglets perk up upon seeing who it is. he kisses the lady in the wheelchair that he was talking to on the cheek and rushes off, holding the comically large sketchbook to his chassis as he scurries towards the lady.

he pushes through the teeming crowd - but allows hands and large, large servos to fondly pat his helm as he hurries past them all - and is quick to practically launch himself into the open arms of his beloved auntie. ]

Auntie Laura! [ day squeals in excitement as he scooped up, curling into auntie laura's hold as she and a beaming uncle leeds lean forward to affectionately pepper his helm with kisses. he wiggles back to hold up his gift, excitedly babbling away as auntie laura and uncle leeds move to somewhere more private to have a talk with their nephew. ] -and Auntie Chris promised to make sure I get one every year, so I always have stuff to practice art on!! Auntie Laura, Uncle Leeds- Do you think mom and dad would have gotten me a present too today? I think they would and it would have been so cool!! Like like like maybe a dinosaur drone! That would be awesome!

[ a strange and tense smile comes and goes on auntie laura's face and uncle leeds looks so sad as daylight obliviously babbles away, imagining all the things his parents would have gotten him if they were still alive.

in the end, auntie laura kisses day's helm again, murmuring a soft: ] Yeah. I like to think they would have, kiddo.

ii;;; and you're walking on air. (a happy memory.)

[ daylight isn't on earth anymore. that much is clear from the fact he's the same size and appearance that the others know him at this point. and the fact he's surrounded by violet and white crystalline trees, the setting orange sun causing them to twinkle and sparkle in the dyling light of day.

he's not alone in this memory too. another mechanoid is with him, built bigger and stronger than him and twice daylight's size, standing at a whooping twenty feet tall and with a gatling gun bolted to their shoulder.

but he carries daylight in his arms with such a tenderness that that, and the way they gaze at each other adoringly, makes it clear there's something special between them. the way the mech will lean down, allowing the battlemask to retract so he can affectionately nuzzle his face against day's now and then only adds fuel to the obvious fire. ]

Heck of a way to end a day, huh? [ daylight laughs, kicking up the scrapped and dented leg of his for emphasis. ] Sorry for ruining the date, Emer. Just wanted to impress you back there.

It's fine, Sunshine. [ 'emer' shifts daylight into one arm and he seems to be looking for something on his side, though there are no visible pockets or pouches there. ] You're not going to walk for a while but back there did allow me to get something.

What? Footage to showoff to Dialup and Nightbreak? [ daylight's snort of self-derision stops halfway when, suddenly, emer pulls out a glass-like flower, the blue of its glowing in the sunlight. daylight practically melts into emer's hold when the flower is placed behind his audial. ] Oh, Ems... This is beautiful.

Not as beautiful as you. [ emer and day share a quick kiss between each other, laughing at the cheesiness of his words and out of genuine affection they clearly have for each other. ]

iii;;; and shadows settle on the place that you left. (a bittersweet memory.)

[ the sun is setting in this memory. it looks like daylight is in a quiet park and someone else is with him as they approach the paired statues of a human woman and something that can be best described as floating shapes lit on fire. it looks like they're holding hands.

day and his companion make for a strange pair- this one towers over him at twenty-five feet and their face is hidden by a steel domed mask that's been welded shut to their face. not to mention their arms stop at their elbows and a golden disc floats behind their back, humming with power.

the mech addresses day with surprising softness as they stop in front of the statues: ] Are you sure about this?

Yeah. I'm sure, Nightbreak. [ daylight begins to climb up on the base, strangely grim in his determination. the friend - nightbreak, apparently - heads over to a nearby console, the disc glowing faintly as eight transparent arms, coloured a glowing gold, emerge from the haze of light. ] Just- Punch in the settings, okay? The ones I told you.

[ the mech does as they're asked, their arms opening the console's setting to type something in.

above, the statues begin to shift and move thanks to mechanics and gears embedded in them, pulling their hands apart, palms open forward. daylight quickly slips his servos into the now open ones of his parents, fingers curling over theirs as the mechanisms soon close around his. his expectant, hopeful expression gives way to something... that can be best described as sad but readied to be sad.

it just doesn't feel right. he always wanted to know what it's like to hold his parents' hands but this isn't it. not by a long shot.

the memory ends with day thanking nightbreak for indulging him, trying to mask his disappointment with a forced and cheerful sunniness that he's used to making up on the spot for others. ]

iv;;; and so you can follow the trail back to a burning house. (a shocking revelation.)

[ it's so dark.

it's nighttime. daylight - a toddler, the size of a human child and looking very lost and distressed - is approaching an office that's door has been left ajar, allowing light to spill into the dark hallways. and allowing the voices of two women and a man to be heard the closer day approaches it. day stops right at the edge, and leans forward, peering in to see what's going on inside:

it's an argument between three adults: auntie laura and uncle leeds on one side of the room and a woman with silver hair and impossibly blue eyes on the other side of the room. the woman - mommy!, daylight whispers in excitement, isn't saying or doing much at the moment, merely allowing auntie laura to yell herself hoarse and pace back and forth, all the while gesturing with sharp and angry jabs. ]

Are you proud of yourself, Lore? Are you? [ auntie laura is practically shouting at his mom, who looks at her friend with passive, cold eyes. ] How can you sleep at night? There are days that Leeds and I can't look Day in the eye, knowing what we know. How can you do this to me? How can we do this to him? [ she stops pacing and turns to 'lore' with an angry expression on her face, kept at bay by uncle leeds holding her arm. ] Well! Do you have anything to say?

We've had this discussion before and my answers are the same: I don't regret a thing. Radiance and I did what we had to do. We needed to have him-

To what? So he could die? Is that it? So he could be sacrificed?

Yes.

[ the blunt answer knocks the winds out of his relatives and day, leaving them all gobsmacked. it allows his mom to press on, her voice firm and cold and sure: ] You know the prophecy too, Laura. You were there.

Ashes from the dead choking the air for those unfortunate enough to still be live. Destruction and death tearing through the worlds as punishment to those considered the uncalled. It can only be prevented by the union of two worlds that will ignite the stars ablaze. The life spilled is the saviour.

[ auntie laura and his mom stare at each other for a few long seconds before auntie laura looks away, staring at the ground as she balls her hands into tight, shaking fists.

his mom sighs and pulls back, unhappy that she won that argument. ] It's hard to accept, I know, but this is the only way. Radiance and I will do anything to keep the peace we worked so hard on. We have done everything. And if it means sacrificing him for the greater good than so be it.

[ that's not right. that can't be right. daylight pulls back, letting out a scared keen as he presses his servos to the door, pushing it open and alerting the others to his presence and not caring one bit because no no no no-

no!

day pushes through the room, trying to run to where his surprised mom is. even when uncle leeds scoops him up in his arms and pulls him close, he still tries to reach out for his mom, making desperate grabbing motions with flailing arms. ]

Mommy! [ even as uncle leeds reluctantly carries him away, even as auntie laura calls someone named 'system shock' for 'another round', day has only his optics on his mom. ] Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I'm sorry, Mommy! I'm sorry! Please don't let me die! I'll be good, mommy! Please! Mommy-!

[ she never responds to him. his mom merely looks at him with an unreadable expression on her face, lips thinned into a line and her eyes hard and cold.

then she looks away, turning her back to the distressed child as she flatly states, ] System Shock should have the room set up by the time you take him there.

Hurry up and get this over with.

[ and just before the memory ends, the person will suddenly feel pricks at the back of their neck and the feeling of something being torn out from their heads. ]

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]

iv; shocking

[notthatjason]

Ah!

[Jason drops the opal as his hand flies to the back of his neck. It lands with a plop in the snow and Jason stares at it with wide eyes. He's all too familiar with prophecies and disappointing mothers and even with the feeling of something being taken. He rubs at his neck, but doesn't take his eyes from that opal.

He knows this is someone else's memory, but he can't help but think of his own. There have to be some out there of his own childhood. Of finding out who his parents were and the prophecies he was tied to. It's...it's just bizarre and he never would have known...but should he know? He frowns, carefully scooping up the opal again, this time using his sleeve as a buffer.

Normally he'd check in with the spirits to try and locate Daylight, but they all seem fairly occupied with their races. Still, Daylight is probably around somewhere and Jason feels like he probably doesn't want this just floating around Beacon.]

Mary | OTA

[withsadness]

Death to a Dead Thing

[Throughout the duration of the race, Mary can be found in the square, drawing by the light of the fire. She doesn't seem interested in hunting for Opals: instead, focused on the task at hand. Each sheet that she tears from her sketchbook has a picture of a different spirit that's been chosen to race up into the aurora. Sometimes, she draws them as if she's a good friend, and other times, she draws them looking happy and triumphant as they fly away into the colorful sky.]

Wildcard

[I'll be posting a couple of memories below this, but feel free to make your own starter or otherwise send me a message at ddsapphire to plot something out with me!]

TOGETHER FOREVER

[withsadness]

[Walking side-by-side with a young girl dressed in red, you feel full of butterflies. The two of you are quiet, for a moment, the only sounds being the fall of your feet against the empty hallway as you get closer to a new wing of the gallery. Finally, you speak.]

Hey, Ib...can I ask you something? Is Garry...your dad?

[Ib shakes her head. Nope, she says simply, and you feel somehow relieved.]

Hmm...so your dad is somebody else. I see. [You pause again, more briefly this time.] Is your mom nice, Ib?

[Just as simply as before, Ib answers. Yes. You smile.]

Ah...that's good! You want to see your parents again soon, right? I want to get out soon, too.

[But even though you say that, you know things aren't quite so easy. There's a fierce resolve inside of you, knowing what you must do next. Still, before anything can be done, another question comes to you. You reach out a hand and stop your friend, catching her by the sleeve of her shirt. Ib stares at you impassively with her big, lovely red eyes. You really love that color.]

Hey.....Ib, uh.....if only two of us could get out of here...then what?

[You aren't sure what you expect her to saym though you know what you'd like to hear. What comes out of her mouth next makes your heart drop like a stone. If it could only be two...I'd leave with Garry. You swallow, glancing down at your green dress, which you suddenly find yourself grasping fistfuls of, your knuckles white. Standing still, not even breathing, you let the answer sink in. Finally, you take a breath.]

I see...you would want to stay with Garry. [The overwhelming wave of sorrow boils into an abrupt anger, and your tone gets more aggressive than you mean it to.] Well, you know, I was just being all "What if".

[You take Ib's hand and start walking again, as if nothing had ever happened.]

We'll get out together, right? Promise!

[Ib never responds.]

Duster | OTA

[mindofathief]

Bon Voyage, Amigo

[A soulful farewell to the spirits who plan to ascend to a higher plane of existence doesn't sound right with one instrument, but seeing how excited everyone turned out to be, an emotional song wouldn't work anyway.

Time to practice some pieces. Duster has placed his lantern on a nearby stump and set up his double bass near one of the larger gatherings of celebrators, fighting the cold to play an old warmup]

Memories

[When you pick up certain opals, a memory starring a certain musician plays. There's happiness tinged with slight melancholy throughout these events, but ultimately are reassuring.]

Wildcard

[Hit me up with your own prompt or request another memory featuring either the DCMC or the main party. I'm at mutanthairything for plotting.]

Saturn Valley

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[The dream twists him out of Beacon and he lands somewhere foreign. It's hot and there's a weird group of people all gathered around.

Duster, he's the only recognizable face and when the dream dumps him back in town, Quentin puts the opal in to the egg crate with all the other ones and a note, reading Duster - cheese guy on it and he walks further in to town, closer to the bonfire and the noise coming from the spirits further away.

Maybe he's going to start running in to people he remembers from the dreams. Here's to hoping.]

Kylo Ren | OTA

[forcer]

Aurora
[ Kylo is sitting quietly, watching the spirits crash into the aurora, effectively ending their existence. Death isn't something Kylo is a stranger to, in fact, frequently forcing it upon the beings in his own galaxy and lending a hand in the destruction of five planets and the death of billions. He thinks about watching the beams from Starkiller split across space from the bridge of the Finalizer, the planets disintegrating into spectacular bursts of light. It was breathtaking, in his opinion, but most likely didn't feel the same.

Who is he to disturb the spirits if this is what they want to do? He's just taking it all in, quietly, his lantern sitting at his side and lightsaber clipped on to his belt. ]

Memories
[ Kylo's opals, like everyone's, are scattered about. They're black and red, most of them cracked and jagged like the blade of his lightsaber. Pick one up and you're likely to see something happy from his childhood, troubling from his youth, or terrifying from recent memory. He's experienced a lot in his 30 years of life. ]

If you pick one up, I'll write a memory for you, just let me know what type you're interested in!

aurora

[therewillbeorder]

Enjoying the view?

[Hux spoke up before just approaching Kylo Ren from behind. He didn't want to end up thrown by the Force again if Kylo was feeling jumpy. He didn't wait for permission or stop to ask for it before sitting down next to him.

They had to get along here, somehow. That meant putting aside their differences and figuring out how things were between them. He put his own lantern beside him carefully before looking over at Kylo for a moment before looking at the sky.]

It almost reminds me of Starkiller. Just not as impressive.

Armitage Hux

[therewillbeorder]

Aurora

[Hux feels no grief or any kind of emotion aside from a detached admiration of the view while some of the forest spirits hurl themselves into the light. They weren't really alive, were they?

It's still cold so he's bundled up wearing his greatcoat and a thick black scarf as he headed towards downtown, his gaze on the sky above.]



[ooc: if there is a particular memory you would like your character to find, hit me up at illuminations]

Starkiller (cw: mentions of genocide]

[therewillbeorder]

[The air is slightly chilly but he's not shivering. Row upon row of stormtroopers standing below him, waiting for this moment that had been decades in the making.

There had been so many sacrifices but they were all worth it as he stood there on that stage. 
He could feel the power surging through him, burning through his blood. It filled him until he felt like he could burst. He hadn't slept in days, running on adrenaline and exhilaration for this moment.

He would shape the galaxy as no one else had ever had before. No one, not even Emperor Palpatine at the height of his reign, had ever held so much power in their hands as he did today. 

His voice is strong with conviction, his entire body shaking with emotion. He had waited for this day for so long and he would make it glorious.]

FIRE!

[The sky became red as the energy bursts from inside the planet.

It's memorizing. There is so much power in that red beam, a power that no one else but him could harness.

It was his destiny.]

[equinoctials]

Duster finds a stone streaked with gold, beige and dark brown. Holding it shows a memory of a stranger meeting a perhaps slightly familiar young boy.

Cao Pi finds a dark opal flecked with red, turquoise and gold. Although it gives a memory, only one of the names mentioned in it matches anyone in Beacon. Who are these assholes? (stop at 5:05)

Quentin discovers a white stone full of pearlescent flecks. What a strange vision it offers when held. What could it mean, and is that really..? (stop at 3:05)

Daylight locates a dark blue opal slashed through with paler blue and peppered with bright flecks. Inside is a pep talk from a talking mouse? (stop at 2:10)

Bruce uncovers a glittering opal that's shot through with dark streaks in a criss-crossing pattern. Holding it reveals a scene of hopelessness against insurmountable odds, the sacrifice a friend makes for someone precious. (stop at 8:20)

Prompto finds a yellow opal glittering with large flecks of gold and orange, holding it reveals the scheming of a man with the power to transcend time.

Vanitas locates a sparkling, almost neon-blue stone mottled with tan. A younger form of his Master can be seen when it's held, with another familiar face. (stop after "Your abyss awaits")

Jason discovers a sky blue stone streaked with white and flecked with grey. Touching it shows the heroic last stand of a very unlikely character. (stop at 4:26) ***SPOILERS from the recent DLC***

Namine finds a fire opal, red and orange, flecked with sparkling gold. Within is the memory belonging to a foolish apprentice (stop at 31:10 "You will. Trust me.")

[OTA prompt for reactions/opal trades]

The aurora is a spectacle all by itself, the world looks so strange and different with so much unprecedented light glowing eerily over everything. Of course all the activity has drawn a crowd, Riku is no exception. Curiosity has pulled him in at first, later, it's the discovery of the opals and the hunt for those who might appreciate their return. It's incredible, not just the aurora shimmering across the sky, but the sheer number of spirits gathered there... even ones that Riku, with a chill, recalls fighting against. None of them appear to be hostile, there's a celebratory mood that permeates the masked crowd.

All heads seem to turn to follow the arrival of a kind of sledge pulled along by... he's not sure what those are and only a few of them seem to resemble dogs. Riku, from a tiny island world that never sees this amount of "winter", is as mystified by this as he is by the rest of the festivities, and as to be expected from another human, is stunned to silence when he sees the sled and team go rocketing up into the sky, only to shatter into countless glittering motes upon contact with the aurora.

As if they hit a kind of ceiling...

Shocked, Riku stares, and then, a few moments later, he raises his voice in a shout to join the cheering.

He's known for months that the spirits don't share in their concepts of death. They're following their hearts, this isn't to fit in somewhere different, rooting for someone as they follow what their heart tells them to do is the right thing to do. What is he to thrust his own mores and priorities on forest spirits? This is their time. Some of them have made compromises for the sake of the other Beacon residents.

So Riku becomes a regular sight at the event, bringing along his ocarina to stumble through rudimentary conversations with spirits while warming himself with a hot drink, cheering himself hoarse - easy, since his throat was pierced months ago. It's actually one of the few times lately that one can see Riku actually smiling regularly, though that might easily have something to do with the extra illumination they've been getting. The only hiccup there is once Riku finds his first few opals and starts to realize what's actually raining down from the aurora; from then on, he's often searching the crowd for people he recognizes from the opals he's found. The hope is he can reunite people with these memories, or at least give them the option to decide for themselves what should be done with them.

As usual this winter, he's dressed in his black bomber jacket, some jeans, boots, a pair of black gloves and a blue knit scarf with a yellow R embroidered into one end, his long hair tied back in a low tail. The only change to his appearance is a small scar in his bottom lip.

[mindofathief]

Duster hasn't brought his bass tonight. There are some opals he has to return.

He shuffles through the snow, towards Riku, thumbing the golden and beige rock he had found. It came as a relief that this contained a sweet childhood memory with the added bonus of seeing that magic key again. Was he a sweet kid like that once?

Riku will feel a tap on his shoulder after the light from one spirit fades.

"Hey?"

Xayah | League of Legends

[featherknives]

Most of Xayah's memories can be found around the greenhouse, where she now lives. She will be either on the roof of the building, watching Aurora carefully, or inside, tending to few plants that she planted. The greenhouse is lit up with two torches so it's not as dark, especially with aurora blasting the light at them.

If you find her stones, come see her here.



Memories will be listed below, or poke me at WindsongWitch if you want something specific!

Memories of Father

[featherknives]

["It is part of you," a deep, soft voice speaks right above her as hand, way bigger than hers, helps her balance her wrist and the way she's holding the summoned feather. "It listens to you- gentle and soft, or sharp and deadly; it follows your voice and wishes."

Xayah's palm open and the previously firm feather loses on the weight, floating right above the palm of her hand. Her father brings her hand closer to her, letting her take a better look. It looks so fragile, the purple and pink glint of the feather almost translucent as it stands in the air.

"It is magic, your magic; untamed and forever wild," the tall Vastayan warrior with tall purple ears and markings under his yellow eyes says, picking her up easily from the ground and making Xayah laugh. "Just like us, running free in the vast world that granted us life, shaping our future and our thoughts." She turns her eyes to look at the incredible, glowing forest in front of them, the village of their tribe settled underneath the elder trees. The man kisses her cheek and ruffles up her purple, messy, short hair. "Respect it, and it will always protect you."]

Cao Pi | open/closed prompts

[pure_havoc]

[closed prompts will come below. Open prompts are as follows, CR and newcomers alike welcome:]

A A montage of scenes of Lady Zhenji, sashaying at his side, standing beside his throne in Xuchang while he holds audience, and playfully trading quips with him. Her choice of titles for him, waga kimi, hits the ear as "my beloved lord," and he in turn calls her "my Lady Zhen."

B A selection of seemingly innocent moments around Cao Cao, taking orders from him, watching him dole out orders to others, beholding his anguished expression as they all watch the ships burn at Chi'bi and know their utter defeat, and standing witness as he cajoles the Emperor into letting Cao Cao take care of him. The young Emperor seems to be the only one swayed by such honeyed words, everyone else - especially Cao Pi - knows that it means Wei will soon control the Emperor like a puppet, all thanks to Cao Cao's persistent charm and delivery of results.

C A conversation with Ishida Mitsunari, an officer from a different time and place. They have a snappy back and forth, sarcasm upon sarcasm, the likes of which few have seen. Alternately, it may be a memory of Ishida standing up for him in front of Da Ji, stepping in to lie to her face in order to protect him, forcing her to believe that both were telling her the truth of how Sun Ce escape them. Cao Pi turns curious eyes to the Wa strategist, wondering. Is he really Da Ji's pet, or is he, after all, a fellow conspirator?

D A quick flash of a vision of Orochi, a seven-foot-tall serpent demon who has been the bane of Cao Pi's existence for a while. In the darkness, torchlight reflects off all the sharp, silvery edges of his body armor and the immense scythe in his hand. A battle is about to begin, and those mismatched eyes display nothing but hatred for Cao Pi facing him.

for Daylight

[pure_havoc]

All around them is the din of battleclash, but in this spot on the slope of a path leading down toward the stone fortress of Guandu stand Cao Pi and a beautiful woman, facing each other. From the golden tones in her clothing she owes allegiance to the Yuan clan, while Zihuan in his indigo belongs to Cao Cao's army. The woman has her flute up, ready to strike him with it, but she hesitates, eyes angry but also uncertain. The pair of swords lower, giving her leave to depart, but before she flees him, Cao Pi murmurs something. "Such a beautiful flower. It almost makes me forget I'm on a battlefield..."

A flash, and another memory, the same battlefield, the same people, but clearly at least an hour later. She is defeated, disarmed, but faces him with the same icy defiance as before. "If you intend to defile my honor, then I will simply take my own life here and now."

"Defile you?" Cao Pi is briefly taken aback, but it dissolves into charm almost immediately. He is infatuated, it's plain to see and he can't hide it from anyone. "On the contrary, I intend to make you my wife. If that isn't to your liking, then by all means, take your life."

He lowers his blade and extends an open, beckoning hand to the fine woman, and she gasps before placing hers into it. "Your wife...? Then, I accept." She is his now, willingly turning her back on the Yuan.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret | OTA | Major FFXV storyline spoilers ahead, beware.

[luxoraculi]

[ A - Memories. ]

[ Lunafreya's opals come in a variety of colors, ranging from a vibrant white streaked with gold, to an iridescent black. They can be found scattered about the town.

The first, a soft white and yellow in color, can be found by the bonfire.

The second, which is a grey with a shimmery black, is found closer to the Invincible.

The third is a dark brown that's flecked with gold, can be found close to the water down by the dock.

The fourth is a dull black, though if shifted, it does shimmer ever so slightly in various colors. Found close to the Library. [warning: death.]

Number five is a pale blue in color, streaks of silver sparkle through it. Like one of the others, this one, too, can be found down by the dock, though it can be seen glimmering in the water. [ warning: blood, stabbing. Starts at :007, ends at 2:47. ]

And finally, the final stone, a flat, deep blue, can be found by the church.

Lunafreya herself can be found watching the Aurora, though she will be getting up and finding Opals as well after a while so that she can return them to their respective owners. ]

[ B. Wildcard ]

[ Okay, these prompts are kind of lame, but I am on hiatus and still wanted to try my hand at this, lol. Have at me with any prompts or ideas you may have, I very much want Luna to find and see other people's memories as well, so hit me, friends. ]

A

[meridio]

[ In his shock, he drops the pale blue opal as soon as he finishes reliving the memory. This opal without a doubt belongs to Lunafreya. She's told him about what he just experienced, yet his hands tremble faintly from the sheer magnitude of a reality that shouldn't be possible. With a long exhalation, he wraps the opal in a yarn doily (who knew it would come in handy?) and begins his search for Lunafreya.

She, meanwhile, will stumble across this memory:

"Oracle—"

Aera rips a pillow out from under her head and hurls it straight at your chest. The pillow falls to the floor with a soft thud while she grouses, "No. This is the one place you are not allowed to bother me, Somnus. Whatever is on your mind can wait until morning. Go to bed."

Undeterred, you try again: "Oracle. Your duties to the people and the gods have kept you away all day. Now that you have returned, I—" Another pillow strikes your chest.

"And you should have been awake when I returned. My duties are to the gods and to the people, yes, not to you. And right now, my duties are to my bed and to my dreams. Leave me, Somnus. I mean it. I will not tolerate you for much longer."

"This matter concerns those very people."

Your third attempt yields you a moment of silent consideration before she relents. "You have five minutes."

You talk succinctly about your respective missions. At her bedside, you close with the suggestion that she rest in the coming morn when she tugs you back.

"I'm worried about you," she says, and those are ridiculous words you never expected to hear tonight. "You've grown distant. More so than before. I'm concerned that you are overworking yourself, dear Somnus. I miss our conversations and bantering."

"The future of this country is at stake, and we're no longer children," you reply. Compared to your brother, you're quite well-rested, too. Even though the days are short, you manage the hours. "What time is there for banter now?"

"I understand that far better than you may realize. I don't care about bantering. I am worried that you are isolating yourself . . . I can't help but worry: You're family. Promise me you will be safe."

You wonder if she'll continue to consider you family after tomorrow. Quickly, you quash that thought.

"With the powers bestowed unto our house by the gods, I shall return," you say as you part from her. Stopping at the entrance of her chamber, you crouch down, grab a hold of the pillows she threw at you earlier, and toss them back at her face one after another.

She squawks. "Somnus!"

"The night is young, Oracle. You'll be needing those."

Eventually, he finds Lunafreya. ]

Oracle. I've something of yours.

javert | ota, cw: injuries, suicide

[policier]

( his opals are that of petrified wood, split and cracked and filled to the brim with beautiful stone. they're scattered about, but javert's not able to get around easily enough to collect them all. he is moving a little better, after having his leg partially healed with magic. he spends much of his time outside, watching the aurora on a bench or a stump of wood.

as an ooc note, please don't handwave your character having seen a memory of mine without discussing it with me first. if you'd like to plot something, feel free to hit up my plotting comment, or pm me! )

mother

( He's little more than four years old, with wide blue eyes and a mop of curly brown hair. He takes after his father, or so his mother tells him. The little boy has never known him, and the mother hardly speaks of him, but he knows that he is a galley slave, sentenced to life in the bagne. His mother is a fortune teller, with darker hair and a darker complexion. Sometimes, she will take his tiny hand in hers and read the etchings of his palm, tracing them gently with her fingertips. He asks what they mean, but his mother only smiles at him sadly.

It's as if she knew. His life would not get better than this. Prison is not a place for a child to grow up, but it's the only life the boy has ever known. She teaches him how to sew, how to clean, and when the night falls and the stars appear in the sky, she teaches him of the constellations. One day, he thinks, as he lays own next to his mother, curled up on a thin pallet, he will see them from outside the prison's walls. He's determined to make it so. )

24601

( He's twenty three, one of the youngest guards of the penal colony of Toulon. His hair is cropped short, his expression stern, and his youthful innocence is gone. It's not hard to recognize him as the man as he is today — authoritative, haughty, and most importantly, watchful.

He knows the faces of every convict in the bagne, though there's one in particular he pays close attention to. The prisoner himself is brute, with a muscular physique and superhuman strength. Like all prisoners, he is garbed in a hideous red shirt, canvas pants, and he speaks very little. He never laughs. Jean Valjean is his name, but here, he is only known as 24601.

They are in the rock quarry in the hills surrounding Toulon. Javert is there, keeping watch on the convicts as they work. An accident happens. One of the red-garbed prisoners is trapped beneath a boulder. As guards and convicts alike scrabble for help, the prisoner 24601 appears, saying nothing, and without hesitation, he takes the boulder beneath his back and lifts it. Jean le Cric! the convicts cry out, and soon, the man beneath boulder is pulled from under it, his legs broken, but intact. Javert watches the other convict steadily, but the man doesn't notice his stare. He returns to work with his head down, and so too does Javert. )

madeleine

( At forty, he's named inspector of police at the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer. Each day, Javert makes his report on the police patrol to the mayor. Today, he is running late, due in part to the weather, which has transformed the streets of Montreuil into rivers. His trousers and coat are completely soaked through, and he apologizes profusely for it when he reaches the mayor's office.

The mayor himself is a man he knows from before, but whose identity he cannot prove. He is Jean Valjean, but here, he is only known as Madeleine. He receives Javert kindly, insisting that he take his coat off and warm it by the fire. He is insufferably kind, in a way that Javert almost believes to be taunting, but he doesn't protest. He removes his greatcoat, his hat, and sets his club aside atop the pile. The mayor insists on making tea, and the inspector's jaw clenches, but he says nothing. Madeleine's eyes are warm, and he looks nothing at all like the brute that Javert knew in Toulon, listening intently as his chief of police delivers his report, stiff and calm. )

valjean

( He's fifty-two, and this time, there's no pretense between them. They're not strangers as they were in Toulon, nor are they cautious as they were in Montreuil. Jean Valjean is covered in muck, and in the stench of the sewer he just climbed out of, but Javert is respectful toward him all the same. He addresses him formally, delivers him and the boy that is nearly dead in Valjean's arms to their respective homes. Javert sits next to him in the carriage, stewing in his thoughts and in silence as they pull up to the Rue de l'Homme Armé. He pays the driver out of his own pocket, 80 francs for the ride, and for the upholstery that is soaked through with the boy's blood and Valjean's muck-covered clothes. Javert walks him to the door, and tells him to go on up. )

I will wait for you here.

( He says, with some difficulty. It's the first lie he's ever told. Valjean seems to hesitate as well, as if he knows there's something wrong. This way of doing things is hardly like Javert at all. But he concedes, and there's a painful twist in his chest as Javert watches him turn away. He knows it's the last time he will ever see him, and he knows, too, that it is only for the best. )

Mothe4

[legalcy]

[The prison is small and filthy. It's no place for a sentient creature, much less a human child. Unfortunately, no matter the planet, any society can be cruel to the innocent and justify it for the greater good. He wonders why he and his caretaker are in here. There's nothing differentiating them from the other humans. The adult woman tells stories to the young Javert like any other elder while he believes that he will live a better life.

Apparently, that's what happens in the end.

It's a good thing that none of the opals hit anything delicate on their partially-constructed jailhouse, but they still pose a tripping hazard. Still clenching the memory in his hand, Minimus calls him over.]

Javert, I believe I found one of your stones.

Fjord | OTA

[fjorgedinfire]

I. Aurora

Fjord has never seen lights in the sky like that before. He's heard stories, while he was sailing, about how if you sailed north for long enough, you'd see green flames in the night sky like a dragon's breath. He'd always wondered if he'd see them during his lifetime, if only so he could see it for himself and say that he had.

The memory stings a little, as he watches from his post, leaning against the outside wall of the Invincible. So much for that, really.

He stays watching them there, for a little while; it won't be hard to startle him back into paying attention to the rest of the world, but for now he's distracted by his own little world.


II. Spirits

He spots them while he's on patrol, passing through the downtown; all the spirits, more than he's ever seen in one place and the majority of which he doesn't recognise, crowding around and making their little walls down to the harbour. It's curiosity, of course, that has him following the excited spirits, watching them play, and build, and clearly having a good time.

With a bit of difficulty, he manages to wave one down, and kneels so he can talk to the spirit with a lopsided design to its mask. "Excuse me, but I have to ask - what are all y'all doing, exactly?"

The excited whistles and cricks he gets back are entirely unhelpful: he doesn't understand that language at all. He doesn't know what he expected.

"...I see."


Wildcard - Memories

Fjord's opals tend towards black, with striking sacramento green striations throughout. They're often mixed with other colours - cobalt blue and navy blue seem to be his most frequent finds - but he has gems struck through with nearly every other colour of the rainbow; red and orange in striking fiery contrast, teasing yellow, reserved indigo, vivid purple and a pleasant, floral pink. Members of the Mighty Nein, past and present.

He has more difficulty finding the ones streaked with golden brown and deep, oceanic blue - memories of Vandran, his former captain. And he avoids touching the ones that match his lantern at all; the green-rimmed, bitingly yellow ones, shattered in such a way that a clean cats-eye cut is visible, making the pieces match the eye of Uk'otoa glowing inside his lantern.

[[Pick a character, any character! If you can't decide on the M9, pick a random colour too! CW for drowning and some body horror re: Uk'otoa.]]

I.

[mollymocked]

Molly's still fairly irritated about how the whole river expedition went, but it's not like he can blame Fjord for dying. Mostly. Well, he came back, so there's that. He hasn't returned the Mariner's armor yet, and he wants to be suitably dramatic about it, so as Fjord stares at the aurora, Molly comes up behind him and just tosses the armor at his back.

"You might want this back," he says. "I considered keeping it since it literally saved my life back there, but it doesn't really go with my aesthetic."

sarissa theron — original.

[magnitudes]

ooc - I'll be doing some open and custom starters, please feel free to reach out to me via pm or pp to wollstonecraft, or check out my plotting comment over here.

memory 1: ota

[magnitudes]

Sarissa’s little. Twelve, maybe, wearing a grey t-shirt and black boardshorts that are far too big for her and are definitely hand-me-downs, standing barefoot on red dirt. She’s look scrawny even if she weren’t swimming in something far too big for her, probably. The grass is yellowed and tired looking, and before her are three teenage boys, all a good foot taller than her.

One of them has darker hair than the rest, dense eyebrows, and though his hair is wavy and wet. "Ya can't do it, Christ. Yiayia'll have my fuckin' skin if youse do it and get busted up an' some shit."
The boy’s holding a meat pie, slathered in ketchup on top, and takes a drink of chocolate milk from a carton. "You're too small. Okay? Shit sucks, but it's true."

One of the other guys chips in, "run off home, Fishhead--"
and Nick - that's his name, known, familiar - shoots them a look immediately. “Mate, that's my cousin. Don't."

It starts an argument. You call her that all the time, and yeah, 'cause she's MY fuckin' cousin you fuckhead and there's an awareness that he never speaks like that at home, and a spark of amusement, and then Sarissa is bolting.

And there's a worried yell, and a Sarissa, hey! with the sound of heavy footfalls behind her. They’re after her, but she’s quick. Sarissa hits the edge of the land and leaps. Not just a riverbank, but a thirty foot drop of stone and rock ledges jutting out, and that feeling of being in the air has adrenaline and freedom and bloody stubborn victory to it, as she plunges into the waiting river below. 

When she surfaces, she can see her cousin leaning over the edge of the cliff, and he looks terrified and proud in the same moment. “You’re a little shit, Sarissa!”

Sarissa as she is now, isn't wearing an oversized t-shirt. Her hair is still wildly curly, and though she isn't currently causing her cousin to age several years in the span of a few seconds, she is hanging upside down from the branches of a tree, knees hooked over it as she just hangs. Just hanging, apparently. She's good, she's comfortable.

Eliot Waugh // The Magicians

[endlessflask]

[THE AURORA]

[ The dancing lights in the sky are enough to make Eliot want to loiter outdoors. He hasn't been here nearly as long as some other people and he's already welcoming the extra light, he can't imagine the relief everyone else must be feeling.

And if he isn't just sitting around, admiring the aurora (he's never actually seen one, only heard about it), he's watching the bizarre display of the spirits. He wonders if they know they're actually dying and not transcending, but he obviously isn't going to be the one to bring it up. His gaze follows one sled it slides down, then lifts off over the lake, then explodes into it's beautiful dust. ]

That's one way to go.

[ii. WILDCARD]

Want to watch the aurora together? Or watch the sledding happen? Go for it. Also, if you have a memory you'd like Eliot to find / if you'd like to see one of his, let me know and I will gladly give you one based on your preferences!

for Quentin;

[endlessflask]

[ Quentin must recognize the place. It’s unmistakable, even if it’s been a few years since they’ve been there. Eliot’s bedroom in the Physical Kids’ Cottage (some things maybe you just never forget). Also recognizable might be the two people, one woman, beautiful with an olive complexion and dark curls, and one man, tall and pale and dark curls of his own. Of course, it’s Eliot and Margo. They’re younger in this memory, and it’s easy to tell. The two of them are still in a carefree lifestyle at Brakebills where they rule the school, and neither of them have any idea of the shit that’s waiting for them down the ride.

It’s sort of sweet, in a way. Ignorance is so blissful.

And if Quentin were to think to himself, wow, they look just like they did when he first met them, he wouldn’t be wrong.

This particular memory finds the pair together while Eliot stands at his closet, door open, a large selection of vests and shirts and ties on the bed where Margo sits. She’s leaning back on her elbows. She looks unimpressed. Or bored. Or maybe both. Eliot, on the other hand, looks nearly flustered.

He turns to Margo with a combination of clothes in his hands, held up together to better see if they go or if it’s a total clash of colour and pattern. He doesn’t have to say anything, just raise his eyebrows hopefully.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” Margo says, raising her eyebrows. It’s obvious by her tone that she’s either already said this, or she’s been thinking about it for a while. Judging by how many clothes Eliot’s cast aside, they’ve definitely been at this a bit.

“I told you,” comes Eliot’s reply, “he’s cute.” He presses his lips together. Honestly, doesn’t she listen? But it’s obvious he’s not going to get a thumbs-up reaction for his proposed outfit, so he adds it to the pile with a sigh.

“You just met him. Barely. And he was late for his test..”

“That’s plenty of time to decide if he’s cute or not. He’s got this little nerd vibe. It’s sweet.” This time, when Eliot looks at Margo, it’s with a sort of resigned but hopeless expression. It’s a look of longing already and Margo’s right, they’ve barely met, but Eliot doesn’t seem to care. “I can’t get his little puppy eyes off of my mind.”

“Please, you’re making me gag.” Margo rolls her eyes. Supportive in her own way while still being very real about it. “This place is full of cute guys. Get over yourself, El.”

“There’s just - Something about him and his pretty mouth. I want to make a good impression so either help me pick out an outfit or stop distracting me.”

Eventually, there’s an outfit decided upon, something simple and not fussy but Eliot feels like it does the job. A blue shirt with small polka dots that he doesn’t do up all the way, a beige vest and a paisley tie and grey trousers that aren’t long enough. It’s an outfit that shouldn’t work but it’s Eliot’s way to just make it look right. His ideal is that he looks effortlessly cool for the new guy.

He all but pulls Margo across campus to the dorms where the new students are housed for now, bounding up the stairs with his long legs while she tells him to slow the hell down. He doesn’t even take a moment outside the door, he just pushes it open with a wide smile directed right at Quentin Coldwater, and Margo comes in after him.

“He’s not that cute,” she says, and the memory fades out. ]