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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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. 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."

Edited 2020-02-17 01:13 (UTC)

[It hits him over the head and Quentin has to bend down to look at it, rubbing his head with his free hand and as soon as his fingers close around the opal, he's-- somewhere else.

Like being inside someone else's dream, because Quentin really very rarely dreamed about goats of any kind. Or kids.

Not a kid like this one, and as it plays out, Quentin has a sudden jolt of middle-class, grew-up-in-Jersey reaction to handing a kid a gun. Except for how the soft look on the kid's face, makes it seems alright for some reason.

Once he comes back to Beacon, once he wakes up, Quentin shakes his head and, very carefully, places the opal in his pocket. Just, what the hell was that.]

2. Brothers in conflict, or, I have to lose my idols to find my voice

It's a cold North Blue morning, the sort of thing that immediately takes Rosinante back to memories from childhood. How appropriate, given what he's here for.

It hadn't taken long to be found. He had been dropped off on one of the islands the Donquixote Pirates frequently stopped by to restock on their way back to Spider Miles, and word that a tall blonde who looked something like Doflamingo himself had spread quickly. Hell, there had even been some bandit who thought to try and hold him for ransom but Rosinante had driven him off with a broken nose. Better than he would have gotten if he'd stuck to that foolish plan.

Now, nearly twelve hours and as many cigarettes later, he's welcomed onto the garish pink monstrosity Doflamingo has taken as his flagship with an arm around his shoulders, a celebratory glass of wine shoved into his hands, and so many questions from people he's studied from notes but never met in person. He answers none of them and lets Doflamingo sweep him away to his personal quarters, where he's sat down into a plush velvet chair so that his brother can perch across from him in a similar seat, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Rosinante meets that studying stare through rose lenses with a blank look of his own.

"Rosi..."

He had expected an interrogation, but as he waits, he realizes none is coming. There's a crack in his brother's voice simply at having said that childhood pet name, and he can't help the slight widening of his own eyes on hearing it.

"Where have you been?"

It's a plea, not a demand. Doflamingo had worried about him. He doesn't know how to react, and after a moment where neither say anything at all, he ducks his head and stares blankly toward the ground instead. He hears the rustle of fabric, feels Doflamingo reach out, leaning closer, to settle a hand on his shoulder rather than to jerk his chin to face him. The monster is tender. Loving.

This is why he had taken this risk. For all that he's been told that Doflamingo is a living nightmare; that he relishes in violence and bloodshed and manipulation, he's still his brother. After fourteen years' absence, that hasn't changed. Nobody else would be able to pull this off, for nobody else would ever be trusted enough. The Marines need to understand his movements, learn his plans, have access to his secrets. And Doflamingo, they say, always takes care of his own, and has always been looking for his lost younger sibling. The only way to succeed is to use that against him.

Rosinante squints back tears that aren't an act at all, and proceeds with the plan as he works his jaw, trying to form words but apparently unable to give them voice. His brother's confusion is tangible, but soon a pen is produced, then paper, and both are shoved at him as the wineglass is instead carelessly knocked aside for someone else to deal with later. He and his writing are abruptly the center of Doflamingo's attention and his breath is shaky as he writes out the tale he and Sengoku crafted, of drifting through cities and seas, abduction and hard labor, of escape and freedom.

Doflamingo buys every word and promises his life will be better; that he will be given everything he never had to make up for what they lost in childhood. Promises of riches, of a place at his right hand. Hook, line, and sinker.

Maybe, he hopes, the rest of the job will be easy.

Minimus loosens his grip on the opal.

Where have you been?

Rosinante's older brother, his family, was a monster. The logic of his memory dictated so. The hate he felt was genuine. He could not forgive this man for what he had done, whatever it may have been. He's a monster who cares.

Where have you been?

Cybertronians do not cry like organics, but their optics do blur with overwhelming emotions. He doesn't know if he's sharing Rosinante's tears of they are his own.

What if that were Dominus, finding out that the mask that was Ultra Magnus hid his missing younger brother all these years? Would Minimus hate him? Would he embrace him and play this scene out without the deception?

Where had he been?

Minimus takes time find a hidden alcove in the trees to compose himself. This opal must be wrapped in cloth to prevent another accidental peek into the memory it contained. He supposes Rosinante is busy enough that he wouldn't notice Minimus gone. No one did.

Hours later, Minimus walks up to Rosinante. It's difficult to avoid his eyes when they are close in height, but he manages to have his optics unfocused as he holds the little bag out with one hand, the other arm tucked behind him.

"I believe this belongs to you." No further explanations needed.

There's enough clear space here on the shoreline to spot the stones easily as they fall, though each one that splashes down into the water is pretty disappointing as they become immediately out of his reach. Currently, he has a long stick in his hands as he tries to fish one toward him anyway, scraping through pebbles to drag the opal closer, but it keeps slipping between other rocks.

At the sound of footsteps he stops and turns to see who's approaching. And - aha. Not Daylight, but the other robot. Mechanical fellow. He's never actually asked what they want to be called, has he? Should probably do that.

He reaches forward to take the bag. Must be another one of the stones. Rather than ask and wonder what has been seen, he slips a finger into the pouch and feels for the opal - and his eyes go momentarily unfocused as he relives that particularly difficult moment. Shit. Well, he can play it off casually, perhaps. Make it seem like it isn't a big deal. He doesn't really know this guy, but neither does the robot know him, which is to his advantage here.

"Thanks," he says with a frown as he pockets the bag. "I appreciate you returning it."

In silence, Minimus regards the bulge in Rosinante's pocket, then the stick in his hand. They both know what's stored inside; there's no need to discuss its contents and steer the conversation into one of emotions and past events.

"Is there an opal under the surface of the lake?" Of course there is, that's why he was moving that stick around. It's just a different topic, one where he can remain distant. In this weather, the water must be too cold to be comfortable for a human.

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1. Sengoku

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2. Doflamingo

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3. Hospitals (closed to Cao Pi)

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4. Law

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Re: 4. Law

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