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!

QUICKNAV
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[Wow, okay. So, that was a lot and Quentin debates pretty fiercely with himself if he should even start to address the whole 'weird dreams about Peter' aspect of this, when he just moves on real quick.

Also, naked dreams, Peter? Did Quentin really need to know that?]

Okay, so wait. That was a lot about your dreams and god, I wish I'd paid more attention in Dream Interpreter class or whatever it was called, because.

But sure. Okay, yes? Yes, magical books have sex and this is why magical libraries have so many books. You saw that? The books having sex. That was years ago, but yeah. I never thought I'd ever STOP seeing them after that. But, you can get used to a lot of things, I guess.

"Do sometimes. When I'm cooking, mostly." They smile a bit, fond and amused. "Probably drives people up the wall, if they're in the kitchen with me. Aziraphale tried to join in once, though. Scared the shit outa me at first." Aziraphale's voice isn't terrible, it just wasn't expected. Funny that the angel actually knows Bing Crosby.

You wouldn't.

[Quentin says that with more certainty than he feels, but still. Peter wouldn't lose it. He'd do what every last one of them had been force to through circumstance and bad luck, and the knowledge that people you care deeply about, people you love will die and there's nothing you can do about it.]

Maybe you'd understand why I sometimes want to set the world on fire? Not, you know, literally [yes, literally] but. You'd find a way to deal with it, because you don't get a choice not to.

[He shrugs, how does he do it? Maybe it's the force of habit, when it comes down to it. Because this wasn't the first time he'd seen Eliot die. This wasn't even close to the first time he'd lost someone he loved so deeply that losing them made his heart feel like a raw and open wound for months.] I don't get a choice either. He's-- he was here and then he wasn't and now. Now he's back.

[Not the same as before, no. This Eliot never pulled a gun and tried to kill a monster so Quentin wouldn't spend eternity in a dark hole at the end of the world, a babysitter to before-mentioned monster so it wouldn't try to escape in to the world.

This Eliot never did that, and this Eliot was never possessed by the Monster. Doesn't have blood on his hands, well--not as much and not as innocent. And he doesn't remember Quentin dying to save him either, so maybe it's a good trade-off in the end.]

No, never. But I did learn sleight of hand and magic tricks to impress a girl. Not magic-magic, but you know. Street magic, card tricks and disappearing coins.

[Still looking at the shimmering egg, Quentin blinks rapidly before looking up at Duster.]

Well... it's an egg. Maybe someone or something has to sit on it?

That they die?

[That's actually a good question and Quentin is about to just blurt out a no on principle. But...]

I don't know. I think I'd be less worried, if I didn't think that most of these spirits are the friendly ones. The ones who help us here, and who might even help us when we're lost in the dark or in the woods. If they all die, then the only ones left are the ones who want us to suffer.

[And this place is bad enough as it is-- not just the darkness, or missing close to everyone from back home. It's the lack of choice. He didn't get a choice in coming here, and now that he is, he can't leave.

And not just because leaving everyone and everything behind would be an asshole move, but because... they can't leave. Even dying only brings you right back, in some cases and Quentin isn't willing to... do that if it took more than once.]

What? Really? I--

[Quentin beams at him from across the room, heart hammering in his chest, because-- wow, he never thought Eliot would actually do it and because. Well, selfishly, this will mean Eliot has a bigger chance of not dying again and Quentin won't have to mourn him again.]

You don't owe me anything, why would you think that?

Sora takes his hands out of his pockets and double finger guns and clicks at them, but puts his hands back in his pockets without much fanfare. This is a "Got 'em" moment, but not really one from which Sora takes much pleasure.

"You're doing fine. This is okay, too." Sora looks into the distance, enjoying the view lit by the aurora. "It's just that, you know. You keep taking big ol' steps in the right direction. It's obvious." Sora frowns. "That's all I mean. If we're both doing stuff about this, I want to be able to keep up with you." He's still not up to a point where he considers themselves equals - he doesn't really have enough self-awareness for that - but he doesn't want to be the thing that holds them both back.

It isn't what he's saying at all. It's true, for better or worse Bruce often acts as a compass for others, not to show them the right way to go, because that kind of navigation is one he still struggles with. But as a kind of boundary- a way to narrow the field. He is not an emotional touchstone or even very good at moral support. He isn't trying to comfort Quentin here. He thinks that perhaps he'd been the one looking for comfort. Trying to find a meaning underneath it all.

He's been selfish, and naive.

Quentin smooths a finger over the stone in his hand and a beat later asks we better make the best of it, is that what you're saying? and Bruce feels naked, hurt. Lost. He's never wanted to run more than this. He never should have allowed himself to be so reckless with his vulnerabilities, he never should have lowered the wall.

"I don't know how to fix it."

From Quentin's lived experiences, there's no fixing it. There was either finding a way to live with it, to live with the losses and the heartbreak or have someone like Jane Chatwin reset the timeline.

And he doesn't even remember those other timelines, doesn't remember if he lost someone there, too. If he did well or if his lost himself in silly fantasy worlds and flashy magic. If he tried his best and failed, over and over again, always doing the same things and making the same mistakes because no one ever gave him a chance to learn from his past ones.

He still wants to make a joke. Wants to not do this and not do it here, staring in to the blank, black face of Wayne after being startled out of the nest he's made for himself.

But when had the world ever asked him what he wanted? He wants to make a joke to make this less awful to think about and because shit, no one comes to Quentin to feel better about themselves. They went to Julia, who had her shit together at fifteen or Alice, who is so powerful she holds back all the time. Or Eliot, who is effortlessly charming and who gets people. Quentin? He runs.

And Teddy. And what would he do, how would it feel, if Teddy found him here and told him that growing up with Quentin had been the wrong thing? If Teddy told him that Quentin had been bad at it, at being a dad?

"You can't-- I don't think you can change the past, but you can... you can do better. For the future. And don't say that we don't have one, because we do. It might not be much of one and it might really suck at times? But we're here, we're still breathing. What we do matter... to the people that we care about. Even here."

And it's not just hopeless optimism in the face of grueling horrors. Quentin is, at heart, someone who wants to believe in the good in people. In hope. That there's still something to fight for, and that there's still someone who will hold your hand in the dark.

"We are not all the way dead yet. If it-- if it was me? If this was my son. I would do better this time. For him."

[ quentin r u saying u don't have that one nightmare about being back in high school, in assembly, and naked?

gosh.

peter thought you were a nerd too :( ]

I'm pretty sure it just means I have some vague trauma from being made fun of in high school.

I saw that.

...That makes sense. I wish it didn't, but it does.

Okay?

[ Good luck getting Catra to say thanks. ]

He could have kept it. He even considered it, weighed his options of coveting that stolen feeling for himself. It wasn't like Quentin had forgotten it, after all. None of these memories raining from the sky were stolen ones— they were just playback, like those moving pictures Peter talked about. Quentin wouldn't have even missed it, if Vanitas hadn't said anything at all.

Giving it back isn't some altruistic attempt at doing something good. It's only because Vanitas doesn't want the pain that follows after he watches it, the bitter resentment of thinking he'll never be able to feel so full as that on his own. Why he didn't just throw it into the lake or discard it otherwise... well, maybe in some way, he didn't want to share what he'd discovered.

It's kind of like a secret, that way. There's something alluring about that. Friends kept secrets. Even if he and Quentin aren't that.

Vanitas looks at him, his yellow eyes luminescent under the dancing green light up above. People have said that before. That he has a choice, that he can choose something different. He doesn't know how to explain that he can't choose anything different from the Darkness. But he is learning that Darkness isn't as one dimensional as he thought it was.

He stands up wordlessly, then, with Quentin's words rattling around in his head, percolating into the shattered remnants of his heart, and walks back out into the commotion of the celebration.

Bad luck and some nearby authorities.

( he's really not sure what happened. it had been a good plan and then, when they'd started to execute, he'd been left alone. )

I don't know. They never tried again despite me never giving them up.

Some of yours?

( ambrose frowns and then pours himself another glass just in preparation of needing one. he sighs before looking over. )

Any memories you want to talk about that you really don't want people to see?

They would, but it would likely takes another millennia to do so. Gaea wasn't like other monsters or even like the other gods. Piper had been putting her to sleep before they scattered her, so it was likely she would stay gone for a very, very long time.

If she came back at all.

"It was...," he falls silent for a moment. It feels weird to be praised, but there is no other interpretation for the phrase 'I'm impressed.' It was frustrating to Jason. That he could fight that hard and take down a primordial goddess, but his death had been at the hands of a revived, former Roman emperor. "Thanks."

Like a bird? A bird of Light?

[Where are they going to find one here?]

...Or just a person? I might have accidentally sat on it while I was washed down the river. That might explain how I lost my memories that one time.

[Jason stops. They care about him. Not me. Gods he can be an idiot. It's easy to forget, at times, just how complicated Sora's existence truly is and that these memories are just more pieces of a past life. It's not something he can go back to and that version of Sora -- the one among the toys -- was not exactly the same as the one trekking back to the path wearing socks on his hands. They're similar, but as Sora had explained upon their first meeting, they are also different.

He doesn't know what to say. Nothing he can think of really applies here and he doesn't want to make it worse than he already had. He watches Sora move ahead of him, continuing to reach the path. Jason shakes his head and strides forward. Maybe he can't think of what to say, but he does have an idea of something he can do.

He reaches out and pulls the other into a hug. He hadn't given many hugs in his time here, but Sora seems like he could use one.]

I care about you. This version of you. I don't know how much it counts for...but this is the only version of you I've met.

[No one respects Minimus Ambus. It’s sad every time he confronts this truth.]

It should be safe for you to handle.

[Two people bad at socializing, trying to have a conversation.]

If you find any of my memories, please alert me. As a note, you might find something where the memory-holder is named Ultra Magnus. That also belongs to me.

Jason can't help it. Sora's words bring a smile to his face. Possibly because it implies that Jason would have known better what to do than Juno did in those circumstances. It's hard not to be pleased at that idea. It would be very dangerous for Sora to say those things in front of Juno, but as Jason has learned over the past few months the gods aren't exactly coming to his rescue or to punish him.

They aren't here at all.

He nudges Sora, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Not terrible, so don't apologize. [This is firm, and while she can't quite wring a smile out of what she's feeling her tone is unmistakably warm.] Confused, I'd say. A little lost. Much worse things to be.

[Going in for a handshake. Might as well be polite.]

Do wish it'd been something willing or intentional. Don't like these things.

Yes. I haven't found any of my own, only other people's. But I've also been avoiding picking them up where I can.

[Ambrose's was just obnoxiously sparkling at him for hours.]

Someone out there is probably collecting them.

May you find many more of them.

[He nods politely before turning to leave Cao Pi to it. Maybe he'll find some good memories of his own. But that would mean actually picking these rocks up...]

"Also true. I would have thought she'd have seen some of these things coming, but either she's lying, or the spirits are exceptionally devious and never repeat the same tactic more than once. Either is possible." He's leaning more towards Robin lying, but he can't precisely articulate why. It's just a feeling he has where she seems to be dodging things when asked directly.

She answers, certainly, but usually not with anything more helpful than the question machine that comes with the Night Market.

"I'd think someone would know if the creatures here could respawn though. It seems a fairly basic question."

It's the last stone she picks up before she decides that maybe, just maybe, she should be avoiding this sort of invasive look into her fellow Beacon residents' lives. But it's different-looking than the others her foot's knocked up against, and that's enough, somehow, to get her to bend and scoop it up.

Sometimes she's calm and focused, and sometimes she goes for whatever shiny thing she can see.

But at least she recognizes the rest of the people in this particular memory, which means that there are only a few people in Beacon this could belong to. It's less guesswork than her other stones, for the most part.

Spotting Jo at the starting line, having gone herself to see what all of the excitement's about, she brightens.

"Hi there!" She throws in a wave. "Good timing. I, um, I have something for you."

[ The lessons are totally worth it for that smile. Eliot's not cheesy enough to think that it lights up the room, but, well. It's nice. Eliot loves Quentin's smile, and he ducks his head to hide his own smile. ]

You know. You were so upset I wouldn't go on that boat quest with you. So. I want to do this one.

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EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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cw- suicidal thoughts, if you squint

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