logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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!

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Oh yes, I've gotten a few. One was very good, the others quite embarrassing. Got myself thrown off a pirate ship.

I'll bet yours were nice.

Thrown off of a pirate ship? I really should have been more careful. And in those days I couldn't fly. Well, I wasn't allowed. So I had to swim back to shore. Made friends with a few sea creatures lending a hand.

[ If it helps, Aziraphale thinks Stone's life is just as peculiar, though he can't judge ; it's not a culture he's seen.

Like maybe they think getting captured is a good time.... ]

Something about this conversation has made Day realise he never really got to know Riku proper, in his opinion. He knows Riku is a really good guy who tries his hardest and cares for his friends and the others, but he doesn’t know a lot about Riku’s life before he came to Beacon. (If he’s remembering their past conversations correctly. He realises, in a few months, it'll be a full year since their arrival in Beacon and isn't that something?)

So he’s pretty interested to hear what Riku has to say, Day's expression thoughtful and his winglets fluttering in interest. “—So you guys met during your adventures, then?” Sounds like it and it must have been a heck of an adventure if it involves light and darkness and travelling to places. He wants to ask more, curiosity burning in him, but he doesn't want to badger his buddy for details. ... Kind of. “I’m really glad he was there for you, Riku, when you needed someone. You're both greats guys and you being able to see him in person again is really heartwarming to know. Him being a king is cool and good, because he's pretty wise, with what he said.”

"... Could I ask a question, though?" Okay. Curiosity is getting the better of him and he hopes it doesn't bite him in the aft too hard. "If you don't mind."

It's not Day's fault; Riku is a private person who tends to keep a lot to himself from his feelings to his whole... history. It's also why he doesn't pry into other people's business too much, unless he's given a reason to question the trust he places in someone. In his experience, there's a lot of people with skeletons in their closets, it's who they are right now that matters the most to him.

Riku nods, more in agreement that Mickey is... yeah, really great, he's a good king, and of course he thinks Mickey is cool. Riku knows he's become strong, he used to take pride in that, but after losing friend after friend and being incapable of protecting them he's definitely been taking a big hit to that self esteem.

You win some, you lose some.

"Sure," he says, "I don't mind. Ask away."

I'm just making sure. This place is strange.

[He knew that no one else would know them better than they knew each other.

He looked back at the sky, deciding to leave it at that. It seems that they will always be stuck together, even in death.]

The question about whether or not he has someone special is immediately answered: He looks surprised and flustered, his winglets hiking high behind his back as he raised his servos up, waving them back and roth.

“I— Um— I guess— Well...” Oh jeez, is there a way for him to direct the conversation back to Sir Cao Pi? Like, at all? “I… I guess you can say that, yeah...”

In the end, Day decides to, you know, actually and properly answer the question. “… Yeah,” he manages to say at long last, ducking his helm as a shy but genuine smile flits across his face. “His name is Emergency Aid, the Chainbreaker. He, um, is part of the medical personnel back on the starship and is the medic for the fireteam I'm part of. He’s, like, amazing. Really witty and funny and nice when you get to know him and super smart and...”

He trails off, laughing a bit, because, oh man, he got himself babbling over his boyfriend. “I love him so much that it isn't even funny. He's great.”

It's not like that's wrong. Soldat just doesn't know if Steve even survived. It's hard to imagine being that injured and then stuck on the disintegrating helicarrier, or falling from it to the river, and surviving. Steve was enhanced too, somehow, as strong and fast as they were, could they revive him if he fell? Could he survive somehow?

The plates on their arm shift with a metallic buzzing noise, not the calm purring recalibration but the sign that comes from stress. "That. That don't make it right that I did it."

So you're telling me you're both a brat and boring? I guess that's impressive in a way.

[ She snorts, throwing the opal up and catching it in her hand again and again. ]

"Familiar's better for nightmares." This is said with the certainty of someone who's experimented. Crane, it is.

Soldat takes their time with it. They could, at this point, make a crane in their sleep, in five seconds if there was ever a reason to do speed-origami. But that's not the point of folding paper. The point is to make each line exact and careful, to focus on the angles and the steps, and to get absorbed in it to give the brain a chance to settle itself down in the background. So they take their time. The crane, and then the owl, and then the fox.

And fifteen minutes later they can sit back against the couch arm and speak again. "Thank you, Misty."

"She wasn't a brat. Not really. Just... kids. Annoying each other. I. There was. Feeling there. Good feeling." They don't know how to put a name to it yet. ~~It's love. The feeling is love, my dude.~~ "My only other memory of them, Becca was making a pinky promise, the way Daylight does. Toby had died. And she. The promise was to stay together, to not go anywhere, and take care of the others, Susie and Jeanie." They hesitate, then say, bracing themselves for the personal pronouns, "My promise was to me, not her. I'd take care of her, too."

[ Trade, trade. (Sora certainly considers himself a tenant while Skyler would probably call him a squatter. Sora does not think this is fair, even if they are dead! He's doing his best to earn his keep!)

Sora inspects the stone closely in the middle of his hand... red. When he smiles, his whole body softens in relief. ]

Not aliens, but still weird, huh. [ So no Stitch, then. ] Monsters? Ghosts? Mermaids? Zombie pirates? [ Okay, enough. He’s gonna bite his lip before he sounds any crazier than he is. ]

Catra is wandering around the festival area with some measure of curiosity. She still has to get used to this place, after all. Especially since her night vision does not seem to work at all, which freaks her out more than she'll ever admit.

More than ever, admitting a weakness here will be the death of her. Again.

She's picked up a few of the opals raining down on them, but by now she's well aware that they all contain some kind of memories, and while that might be information to bargain with later, it also leaves her with distaste to be burdened with so many emotions, so she leaves it for now.

She takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

[ For a moment, Catra gets sucked into the memory. She looks at the black dress -- then shakes her head. ]

What?

[ She blinks a few times. ]

Huh.

Yes, I'm an engineer. Though, droids aren't something I build often back home.

[Building the droids had given him something to do with the newfound free time that he had here.]

It's give me something to do especially while the weather has been cold. I'm not used to snow...and the such.

[A wave of a hand.] Sounds good to me.

I'll be out around here first. There's bound to have been some near the greenhouse.

[He opens the door and heads out to the woods. It'll be a lot easier to find these opals with two people and all this light.]

Some beings don't have a sense of self-preservation.

[He looked at Kuai, raising his eyebrows before holding out a gloved hand.]

Did you find one of my opals?

[He wasn't going to ask what he saw. He doubted any memories contained in the stones were at all pleasant for someone else to experience.]

( whether Catra likes it or not, she reaches for the black anyway. she's stuck in the motions of a memory that isn't hers. the dress is heavy as she drags it closer, steps into it and pulls it up over intricate layers of undergarments.

and that corset is digging into her ribs, enjoy that.

Mattie thinks the black is boring, but even with the mass of buttons hanging open in the back, Catra finds herself more at home. this black is a part of her as much as the empty still of her heartless chest and the missive from maman informing her that she needed to return to Styria. this is who she is, in this new powerful existence she's determined to make the most of.

arms circle around her as she stares at herself in the mirror, and a warm rumble of a laugh vibrates against her shoulder. )

You're positively depressing, darling. You might as well stitch a scarlet V to your breast. ( despite the taunts of her sister, Catra feels more fondness than shame. because despite her teasing, Mattie leans back to fix up the back, in steady confident motions. ) It doesn't matter how dour you dress, kitty, we're going to live like kings tonight. You, me, the city of lights. Art and life and lights and splendor all around us, and all ours.

( there's still a steady buzz from the excitement knocking around from the night before, and it's only brightening and building now. Catra turns and Mattie catches her hands and swirls her around the room, dragging her into a waltz so quickly she almost forgets the steps. Catra laughs, despite herself, despite the responsibility threatening to creep up and vice around her neck like a shackle still sitting where she'd abandoned it by the vanity.

Maman could wait. tonight, they'd live. tonight, they would —

and just as suddenly as the picture happened, it's gone. the opal is snatched from Catra's hand. it's replaced with the girl she saw in that memory's mirror, same age, but so different all the same. )

You listen worse than a toddler, ( Carmilla condemns, and the hammer she's holding is clenched particularly tight in her fist. it'd be a lie to say she isn't tempted to swing it straight at Catra, though she doesn't. )

( cathartic for who, exactly? Carmilla rolls her eyes over her purloined liquor. )

You've really got to get that masochist thing under control, sugar. It's getting out of hand.

( and maybe, Carmilla learned a long time ago that hurting physically didn't really erase the emotional ache. alternatively, Sarissa, just try blanking out all emotions ever and become basically emotionally catatonic. it works*!

*it doesn't )

"I...think it does." He rolls it from hand to hand. There's no sign of any opening, button, or trick to opening it open. "It took my memories, once. I don't know how that happened, but without the rest of Tazmily here, I guess there's no way to see what's inside."

Leder could have helped with that, but of course, the end of the world was more urgent by the time they found him.

"Maybe it'll work once I meet up with the others."

"None needed, but you're welcome." She seems content, among her own small array of cranes. "Help any? You're sounding a little steadier."

Which is good. Relieving. She worries, Soldat

He deserved a lot more than what he ultimately got.

[ said idly, with a half smirk, dripped in bitterness. ]

That bastard's somehow still alive, and he's lucky I've got other shit to do than obsess over killing him these days.

I came back for reasons I still don't entirely understand.

[ He turns his head, a little awkward as he explains, the motion both obfuscating and buying him a moment to think. after all, he'd wanted to talk to Peter about the whole "being buried alive sucks, huh?" thought. But, then this. Then all his crazy got dredge up.

And honestly, that wasn't even close to the worst he's ever been. That was pretty lucid. Those are questions that still nag at the back of his mind. especially after Bruce readily forgave Damian for killing. After he dragged him back to Ethiopia for "maybe you'll remember how you came back so I can bring Damian back." ]

Woke up in the nice coffin that Bruce buried me in. It was probably, what, 6 or 7 months later?

[ he looks back at him at this point. ]

Seems like an experience we both share, anyway. For different reasons. And anyway, that doesn't answer your question. Woman named Talia al Ghul, one of Bruce's old flames, decided to throw me in a Lazarus Pit to fix all the shit that was wrong with me. Probably figured it a favor to Bruce, when she still felt like doing them.

[Just a collectable item in his world.]

I mean, I lost my memory before. In that memory, we were looking for something to bring them back. It was important for other reasons, but it ended up bringing them back.

[He searches through his belt pouch.]

I haven't found any stones yet, but I wonder if they're like the thing I have...

( it was a pretty fair bluff. she hasn't been soft and delicate and anything remotely resembling pure in a good few centuries. so far, even her memory rocks end up looking goth and moody. she's so confident, in fact, she even turns away and goes back to collecting the stones and perfectly ignores him as he juggles the stone from his gloved hand to his empty one.

the memory pulls slowly. it doesn't help that it transfers from a dark place to a ... dark place. it's a garden, maybe, or a courtyard. there's high walls pressing in at all sides but they blend so seamlessly with the night, it's almost like they're not there. just a sea of darkness, and only starlight to light their way.

you're bring bold. Mother will be cross. you should be with the baron. your bethrothed. if your mother had her way you'd sit at his elbow at his beck and call, doing whatever he pleases. you figure you have a lifetime of doing what your husband pleases ahead of you, tonight might very well be the last night you can do as you please, instead. you want to make it count.

the hand in yours is tight, almost fearful. she's afraid of the dark, afraid of getting in trouble. afraid of what the shadows might hold. but you're not, you've walked these halls your entire life. you know this place like the back of your hand, you don't need light to find your place tucked away in the garden. she stumbles behind you but you persist, pulling her a little farther with a promise, ) We're almost there.

( and you are. in daylight, this is a perfectly lovely place to read. there's beautiful rosebushes all around, the hedges penned in to almost make an outdoor room. you read here most of the day when you're hiding from your governess. but it's even more beautiful in the dark, and as you shepherd the girl with you onto the bench she practically clings to you in her fright, until you tip your fingers under her chin to force her attention to the sky.

it's laced with stars, more than you could ever count, though oh you've tried. you've sketched them endlessly, made a passion of tracking them and their names, naming both existing constellations and making your own. they make you feel so small and yet so welcome as you stare at the tapestry they make in the sky. you want her to feel that too, when you show her this special place in your heart. her breath catches at the sight of them, beaming down like old friends from the sky, and you decide the risk of mother being cross is worth it. the way her face brightens is nearly as beautiful as the stars sparkling just out of reach.

you know you're meant for an old man you've barely spoken to. that this girl, dear to you as she is, is likely to fade away from you in your new life as a baroness. she
s desperately hunting for a match, the 4th daughter in a relatively unremarkable family. but she is sweet and lovely and wrote you a poem once. terrible, true, but in this night when you feel so much promise that will narrow to nothingness like a noose around your neck much sooner than later... you think, on this night when you could do anything, you will do what you've never been brave enough to. in the dark, with only the stars as your witness. no one will know but the both of you and it will be a memory you can hold in your heart, even as you play the dutiful wife of a man you will never love.

you touch her check, glowing red from the cold air and the thrill of sneaking out from the ball both, you imagine. the blush in her skin is invisible in the oppressive dark of the courtyard, but it makes it all the more powerful to feel it. she looks so soft and pure and hopeful, looking at you. you could swear that she's leaning closer, holding her breath.

and then she screams.

you reach to console her but it wasn't you she was frightened of. you don't see it but you feel it, as something sharp forces down, hard and sudden, through your shoulder. you fall forward, but onto nothing — your friend is gone, crying and screaming and stumbling through the garden. you hear her run as you try and catch yourself to run, find purchase on anything, as the blade slides out and leaves blood weeping, all over your dress and the grass underfoot.

you turn to try and catch sight of your attacker, holding hands out to try and stop, fight back, resist. it doesn't matter. you don't recognize the face that presses in as he thrusts the blade again, this time just above your breast. the blood spills in your lungs and you cough, fighting and pressing back, even as the strength in your arms fades.

the blade is pulled again and you slump back, head to heavy to hold up any longer. the blood slicks across your skin, starting hot as it flees from your body but cooling as it seeps into fabric and is tainted by night air. it must be over, and you know that this is all you will ever know. the blood filling every breath tells you this is the last moment you will ever remember, and you're almost... almost glad. to stare at the stars in your favorite place, on a night you still felt yourself and not what your mother or your husband wanted to craft you into. it's not that scary to die, not as scary as changing everything you are because you have no choice but to obey.

and then the blade falls again, near your throat. and again, and again; it hurts more, and more, and more, until slowly it starts to hurt less. and then you feel nothing. )

[ he knows that that's basically giving hope where there shouldn't be any. but he can't help it, there's always a part of him that misses those moments. that lives when they happen. and that was just a small reminder ]

it's what i'd expect from you.

[ he remembers going with Bruce, after that, to Africa. taking down the mercenaries, and then getting tricked into going back to Ethiopia. Back... to the place he'd died, specifically. And how moments like that have colored every perception he's had of Bruce.

even when he tells himself he doesn't deserve it. he doesn't. but it's hard to shake. ]

you know the joker yet?

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EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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TW: being murdered

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