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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Maybe at the time. Maybe all the little promises meant there was something to start to grow again once away from HYDRA. That's something to be thankful for. But at the same time.... "Didn't keep it," they say quietly. "The promise. Couldn't be there for her. It's been at least seventy years since HYDRA captured me. She had to've died ages ago."

They'll get there, Somnus. Be grateful you didn't see them their first couple months here. There's been a lot of change even since then. Soldat hefts the loaf of bread, then offers it back with a small smile. "Unless you don't need it anymore," they say.

[ Vanitas doesn't experience these memories as jarring, physical things. He slides in and out of them, like waking dreams, but it still makes him go still for the duration of it. When it fades out, it leaves him with the echo of the pain and fear — familiar, usual — but more pressing, the sensation of feeling nothing at all.

His eyes stay down for a while, looking into his hand at the soft, pale stone. Vanitas doesn't know much about what becomes of monsters after death. His understanding of the ones here, angels and demons and vampires, only comes from word of mouth. He hasn't bothered to try digging. He knew she was something, and this doesn't give him any answers, other than the fact that she's dead and the girl in this memory is far cry from the one in front of him.

But what sticks, more than he longing for that other girl, more than the angst of being married off, or the feel of that blade— is the drifting nothingness. Even after all he's gained here, the longing for it has never really disappeared. his tone is sobered, more subdued. ]

So is this your second death, then?

[ He raises his gaze, and lobs the stone toward her underhand. It clatters into the dirt, tumbling in amidst the others. ]

How could they have mistaken this feeling for anything else? Jesus. Seeing her settle in and shut her eyes right there in the chair, right in front of them, it's so big. Soldat eases up from the couch and pads over to tuck another blanket around her, lean over to pretty their lips to her forehead. "Sleep well, Misty."

They will indeed make themselves a snack, then settle into their own vigil on the couch until they wind up curling up there and sleeping across the coffee table from her. Not long, just another two hours or so, but it's enough.

"Recognizing their stupid mistake is better than not coming back at all," Soldat allows, still sounding indignant and not remotely mollified. "Fourteen is too young for that. Hell, eighteen is too young for that. Especially too young to fucking leave someone alone like that." It crosses their mind briefly to find Riku and give him a good lecture on how you treat your goddamn backup, let alone your friends, but that would probably upset Sora. So they reluctantly table the idea for later. Maybe.

"And you are something," they add in an annoyed mutter. "Jesus."

Yeah, he notices the teary eyes. He doesn't acknowledge them, though. They're dead, they don't have much left; might as well leave the guy his dignity.

Instead, he'll occupy himself with figuring out what memory Rosinante has come across. Hopefully nothing to, uh, incriminating, but that sort of thing getting out has its uses, too. Thankfully, it's something a lot more pleasant. For the most part.

These are good memories, yes, some of the better ones, despite the sheer number of other things they're up against. But there's also a feeling of loss. Gregor wouldn't say he has regrets, exactly, and he did the best he could for the kid, all things considered. But maybe that's part of the problem; Joss doesn't deserve to have to lose anyone else. Will he make it? Of course he will. But he's already lost too much.

Gregor doesn't find himself crying afterward, but that's never really been his go-to reaction. Instead, there's a long moment of somber silence followed by lighting up a cigarette.

"Well, I guess that means I don't need to tell you that we've had similar experiences."

I could but who's to say there aren't others out there with this memory in it.

( and he really doesn't want to go around just picking up every rock he sees. he sighs. )

A drink sounds brilliant, actually.

It is not a religion I support, no. Why, are you strongly pro Catholic?

( were they going to have a religious argument right here? )

It seems a bit...inflated for my tastes.

[ the question has daylight looking at madam lutece with clear surprise and uncertainty. a part of him feels hesitant to speak about the circumstances that brought him here but-

another part of him recognises that they're, well, dead. why hide the truth when nothing will come out of it being known? ]

... Someone I cared for was going to kill someone else. I stumbled across them by accident, saw they were taking the shot, and I stepped in to take it instead.

[ he presses his servo against his chassis. even after all this time, day can still feel the burn of the shot going through him, the too-much sensation of burnt wires and internals exposed to cool air. ]

I didn't regret it, for what it's worth. Neither did they- They made sure to say it - but I don't regret stepping in to help.

Not in my experience.

[ it had taken her her whole life to realize stick's influence on her, how he'd ingrained his beliefs into her from the moment he'd found her. and then he'd walked away, and then he'd tried to kill her when she'd tried to cut him out of her life. even now, after her death, she's still realizing his influence in how she behaves. fighting as bonding? check.

elektra regards her for a moment before taking the offered flask, nodding to her before taking a small sip from it. ]

No. He only mentioned her. [ threatened her as well as sarissa, but that doesn't feel necessary to bring up. she'd lived it. ]

[ she screams. she can't tell if it's because she's screaming or if matthew is, but it happens either way, the sound tearing from her throat as the pain starts to manifest, the itch and burn in her (his) eyes clouding their vision, the blue of the sky starting to go cloudy and then black. she tries to keep them open as long as she can because she knows this is the last he's going to see of the sky, tries to keep them open long enough to see his dad one more time, but it hurts too much and his eyes are tearing too much for him see.

she can hear his father's voice suddenly and can feel matthew calm down, incrementally but it's enough for her to focus back on her own thoughts and not matthew's. she tries reaching for his father's hand, for all the good it may or may not do.

she can't change things for him, as much as she wants to, knowing what happens later on. what's done is done, and elektra finds his fear becoming replaced with her own anger.

why show her this when she can't do anything but bear witness? ]

[Molly pulls his sleeve over his hand so he doesn't touch the opals barehanded and dumps them into his palm. They're iridescent and extra sparkly, shimmering in hues of lavender and maroon that make it almost look like his coat.]

Like this. It's actually irritating how pretty they are.

"What?" He repeats, and then makes a disgusted noise, clearly not understanding her anger, or, at worst, just missing it entirely because he's still shalen. "Oh god, don't make me repeat it. Just... here."

He shoves the opal even closer to her, careful to use his sleeve so he doesn't touch it barehanded. "Touch it and see for yourself."

[Link watches Sora closely then shoots him an expression that's half way between a smile and a wince.]

C'mon, don't talk like that.

[He gently nudges Sora in the ribs with his elbow.]

Of course you're supposed to do something. Everyone is supposed to do something...

Life is just figuring out what that something is. The real difference between us is just that the Gods have been telling me my purpose. Probably because I'm too dumb to figure it out on my own.

Stone chuckles and gives Rosinante's elbow a pat. "I'm sure I don't do that much. Most of you kids don't listen to your elders, anyway. And I can't even knock you groundlings down to prove a point like I could a stupid warrior."

[Stone leans back a little to squint at Quentin.]

You had a grandchild? Am I misunderstanding human ages...?

[He looks barely old enough to have children of his own, let alone grandchildren.]

"The church is manned by a single spirit. Or person, now, right?" Stone says with a frown. The new of Dr. Solis has gotten around, by now. "A person who is behind the lanterns? Do the spirits have a single spirit who repairs them if they die?"

[There's a thousand questions she wants to ask, beginning from do you truly still not regret it and ending in why did you help at all? And she'll ask them, but this first.]

Nothing to do with your mother, then?

[. . .]

My point was merely that it happened. Either way, it happened, and there's nothing to be done by thinking about it, because your mother, your friend, your aunt and uncle, they none of them are here. And so it follows that they none of them can answer your anger or anguish, that there is nothing to be gained by ruminating over your past, because there's no conclusion to it. Just grief, renewed each time.

I was murdered. And while I would seek revenge if I could, I cannot. So I don't think about it.

Considering how very different their memories from before the war are... they're not entirely sure she's right. They're not even properly a person (Anymore. Happy? Better, anyway.) let alone that kind of friendly and happy. "Well," they allow with a little smile, "at least you can probably tell it won't be anyone else in particular. The kid-- Sora. Couldn't tell one was mine, but it was childhood. Harder to recognize at six years old, probably."

[Not all things and memories are for sharing, is what she thinks briefly, but doesn't voice. She doesn't want to ruin the mood. But the songs... she won't mind sharing those. Their main purpose is just that- teaching and showing others the way of their life. She will happily listen to any song Rosinante has in his store- maybe he can even join this little musical show.]

A silver lining in a disaster like this. [Her ears twitch,] I am glad I could see that there are different sides to humans.

[The ones in her world don't deserve mercy, regardless of anything. But some she met here, they don't belong here.]

Well, in the end, if she doesn't manage to recognize him, that thought alone will make this conversation stand out so she'll draw a conclusion.
"That is true, we all were very different when we were young." From their looks to their beliefs. She misses those days (but she dares not say it, this place is not for sentimentality).

[Oh man, you can't end a sentence like that and then just stop to breathe. Quentin frowns, since there's several memories or rocks in his bag and not all of them are easy to figure out. Are they dreams? Some of them seem strange enough to be dreams.

He arches an eyebrow and waves his hands around-]

What thing?

Eliot, I-- yeah. Yes, we do. Best friends, right?

[Because Quentin does remember, even if it was a year or so go, how it went. How he had to swallow it all way down and go be life partners with someone else for a while and he smiles, still holding on to the delicious-looking pastry as he sits down on a chair.

So, yeah. They're doing this.]

Really? How, I mean, not that I don't believe you or. You know. But-- what are you doing? Cutting down trees out back? And it's a quest. Kind of. A small one.

[Hold on-

There is it. It's an egg-shaped item with pink markings and wing-like decorations that fits into Duster's palm. The markings are shimmering, the color fading out and back in.]

The Egg of Light.

This has the memories of my world before humanity had to escape to the Nowhere Islands.

[Whatever it is, it's beautiful, shimmering dully like everything else in this place, the colors flashing over the surface in unpredictable patterns.]

All the memories? Inside that... oh.

[There's nothing called Nowhere Islands that Quentin knows of, but it sounds close enough to the Neitherlands to be maybe something of the same. A place outside of time, with fountain leading to other worlds. The center of the multiverse and where all timelines and realities collide.

A hostile place.]

That must be pretty important. That Egg.

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EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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cw: suicidal ideation

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oh geez so sorry I misplaced this one!

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