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!

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4. Law

[callada]

4. Marsh mummies belong together.

A hoarse, chest-racking cough interrupts Rosinante from studying charts of the local corner of the sea. Nehalenja Island isn't far away and they might find a real town to restock at on the way to intercept the fruit -

But he'll look at the route later as instead he fixes his gaze on Law in alarm. But the boy looks all right, other than the usual signs of his affliction. He's reading, as usual. Must have caught movement out of the corner of his eye, though, because he looks up from the pages and gives Rosinante a level stare that's not quite a glare. "Don't, Cora-san."

"Don't what?" Rosinante asks, a slow grin spreading across his face. Law is so serious! And takes his studies so seriously, too. It's endearing, but sometimes he worries Law doesn't have enough joy in his life. If there isn't much of it left - which he's damned well going to try and change, but if - then he wants this month to be filled with as much happiness as he can give.

Law is having none of it. He shakes his head and returns to his book, so Rosinante stands and covers the distance between them in one single long step. With surprising graceful fluidity, he swoops down and captures the kid in his arms, and laughs at his half-hearted attempts to swat him in the face with the book. "Come on, Law, let's do something together! We can't leave until the tide goes slack anyway. Six hours still!"

"But I just got to the part about how this tapeworm got all the way-"

"Heyyy, I don't want to hear about it, kiddo," Rosinante interrupts as he takes the book from Law and sets it carefully down with the boy's things, making sure to slip a leaf between the pages for a bookmark. He hoists Law up onto his shoulders, who assists by climbing up and making himself comfortable. It's gotten harder for him to walk long distances, but he's still plenty alert otherwise, and leans his chest forward against the back of Rosinante's head while Rosinante meanwhile decides where they ought to go.

Scavenging for eggs, it turns out, because it's fun and they could boil some to bring along for the next leg of the voyage. The weight on his shoulders is now comfortable and familiar, and he wraps his wrists around the boy's ankles as they head down the slope toward the marsh he had spotted earlier when looking for a place to tie up the lifeboat. There's nobody here but them, and he crouches down so Law can hop off. "See those reeds?" he says, pointing while still staying low. "Hedge grebes nest in those. I'll chase them off if you get the eggs, okay?"

"Don't fall in," Law comments, which Rosinante takes as agreement. The birds have enormous, dagger-sharp bills which he doesn't want anywhere near Law - it would be too easy for them to take out an eye, or do even worse, but with his size he's pretty immune. Law, meanwhile, can safely get out to their floating nests without worrying about drowning. And Rosinante is an expert at scaring stupid birds.

He bends down to pick up a stick, then runs full tilt toward the reeds, shouting and hollering and whacking the tall grasses with the stick. As Law gives in and practically cackles with laughter behind him, he even does a little pirouette, spinning through the mud with arms wide. The marsh erupts into a cacopheny of croaks and screeches as sharp-billed waterbirds beat their wings against grass and water and take to the sky for fear of being eaten by the wild monster that has just crashed through their nesting grounds.

Law is much quieter, and quickly darts in to where he saw one take off from so he can gather spotted eggs in his spotted hat while Rosinante trips over a stick and winds up covered in mud. But he's laughing too, now, and as Law comes over he sits up and opens up the bag around his shoulders so they can pile up an armful of the free food.

"You look like a bog body," Law says, laughing as he sets the last few down.

"A bog what?"

"You know, people who died thousands of years ago and turned into mummies in the mud?"

Rosinante does not know, but naturally the right thing to do is scoop up a handful of mud and sling it at Law. "You're a bog body!"

He hits, and Law scrapes mud off his face with his fingers and sleeve, then sticks out his tongue. "And you're a thousand years old, idiot."

"Am not," Rosinante says, grinning, then collects some of the reeds and smashed twigs and sticks them over his ears, creating makeshift antlers for himself. "But I bet if we want fresh water tonight before we leave we can go steal some from the well in town and create some new monster myths while we're at it!"

"Ew. No, you better wash all that mud off before you get in the boat," Law replies. "I don't want to smell swamp muck for the next three days."

"But they could come up with a new cool name for us! We could be, uh... the swamp sloths! Or..."

He considers this deeply, but Law is coughing again, triggered by his laughter this time, and Rosinante's shoulders slump as his smile weakens. "No, you're right. Let's go get these boiled and I'll wash up."

"All right, swamp sloth."

"Lead the way, bog boy."

[dadandgone]

[He comes out of the memory with a smile, opal held loosely in the palm of his hand. It had taken him a moment to put together who the memory may belong to, because it didn't match his own perception of the man. Still, there was no denying that voice and it had served as a good distraction for Maes from the past week.

He makes sure to take it, this doesn't seem like one to lose, and starts searching not for more opals necessarily, but for a certain larger-than-life figure.]

[callada]

[Said figure is currently on a pile of old scrap wood by the harbor - remnants of the boathouse rebuilding and boat construction projects, now cast aside and covered in snow. He's not just watching the aurora, though, he's trying to take pictures of it with the tablet. Each attempt is coming out kind of disappointing, but man, he wants to have some way to remember these beautiful lights, knowing they probably won't stick around.

On noticing he's being approached, though, he lowers the tablet to his lap and turns.]

Maes. Enjoying the show?

[dadandgone]

Trying to, it's hard to pay attention to it and everything else going on.

[He notices that Rosinante had been trying to take a picture. He considers the light, but he's not sure how to compensate for it to get a good picture. Maybe it will just be a matter of trial and error.]

We've got the spirits launching themselves into it and in the process it looks like they're shaking something loose. Have you found any of these rocks yet?

[He holds up the opal he'd just gotten the memory from, though careful to use his gloves so that he doesn't touch it flat out like before. He wants to make sure Rosinante understands what they are before he goes telling him what he saw inside of it.]

[callada]

Quite a few.

[Including one from Maes. Well. Make that five, all of the same memory. Somehow that seems fitting given what he knows of the man. He imagines Maes will want them, and he has no problem with giving them over. Some of these visions he intends to keep, to analyze, and send back later but there's nothing in Maes' memroy of his daughter's birthday that needs such scrutiny.

He slings the drawstring bag he usually carries with him into his lap, to put away his tablet and withdraw a partitioned tool box which he pops open. It does have quite the collection of stones already but none of the other slots have so many duplicates as this one. He takes a spoon from the box and scoops the little stones into a bag, then extends it toward Maes.]

I think you'll like these ones.

[Aside from the slightly impish smile on his cherry-red lips, there's little to indicate their contents. Go on, then, see what they are.]

[dadandgone]

Really? Are you searching for them intentionally or just that lucky?

[Maes watches as he produces a tool box which, in a way, answers that particular question. He makes note of the spoon and saves that idea for later. Leave it to Rosinante to be so clever when it comes to handling these things. Granted, he'd been using his various knitted garments, but the spoon was pretty ingenious.

He accepts the bag, peering inside as if that will tell him anyway. He knows in order to find out he'll have to touch them. He looks back up at Rosinante. They must be his own, and given that look it probably isn't something from the Ishval war. Maes reaches inside the bag to pick one up and is immediately returned to Elysia's 3rd birthday party, greeted by the familiar face of his family and Winry Rockbell.

Hardly any time passes, of course, when he blinks the memory away. A sad, but pleased smile on his face. He turns his attention back to Rosinante.]

Thank you. Yeah, those are some good ones.

[He pulls his gloves back on and reaches into his own pocket.]

Interestingly enough, I have one for you too.

[callada]

Your daughter is awfully sweet.

[And he will gladly let the collection speak for itself. Look, maybe he's just very lucky and very organized. Surely he's not actively trying to retrieve these things. It's a fun hunt, though - mostly. It does occasionally come with hazardous emotional side-effects, but nothing too bad.

He hasn't found any of his own. There are so many other people here these days that the odds aren't in his favor. But the few that have been retrieved and handed to him make him feel awfully wary when Maes says that. What will it be now? He holds out a hand and steels himself for whatever he might see on contact.]

[dadandgone]

Hah! Don't I know it! I thought my photographs were precious items, but between these rocks and the memory jar I bought from the market...well, it's not the same but it certainly makes things a lot easier to cope with.

[It would never be the same as actually watching her grow up or getting to be with her, but he'd take small victories for now. Small reminders to keep him moving forward and hopefully one day back home or, at this point at least, the correct afterlife. He still wasn't sure where he landed on all of that yet. The spirits may have been willing to dash themselves against the sky with the belief that it would bring them peace, but Maes wasn't quite there himself.

He picks up on Rosinante's hesitation. He understands, because while the memory itself might seem innocent, it might also serve as a reminder of things lost and things past and things you can't change. He offers him a reassuring smile.]

The memory itself isn't so bad. Though, I can't speak for what your current feelings on the memory might be.

[He produces the opal with care, held with gloves it doesn't react to his touch again. He sets it down in the offered hand instead. It's Rosinante's memory and Maes isn't interested in hoarding other people's memories for himself.]

[callada]

[It hits him at once, floods him with emotion. The boy, Law, had become his reason for existence. They were each other's entire worlds. Something so simple, so silly, is now cherished - this one pure, precious memory he can relive. He doesn't like to be stuck in the past, to live only on memories, because he knows how dangerous that can be when it comes time to move forward. But this one... Maybe this one can be an exception.

When he comes back to his own sense he keeps his hand closed tightly around the stone and bows his head as he sets his jaw. He can feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he doesn't want to cry but at least Maes of all people probably understands.

He's quiet for a time. Sometimes speaking doesn't come easy.]

Thank you for returning this.

Re: 4. Law

[worthallthis]

Oh no, that was so cute. That's ridiculously unfair, that Rosinante had to see two of their more terrible memories, and the one they find for him is pleasant and adorable and kind. As promised, though, Soldat tracks Rosinante down, whether downstairs at the Invincible, or out at the harbor.

They're a little steadier today, with almost 24 hours since the last time they saw him. The headache problem hasn't gone away, but they did manage to review and incorporate the second memory-- didn't want to throw up, after that one, but did wind up basically gone for an hour before awareness came back; probably for the best they hadn't done that in front of Rosinante-- and find a way to avoid thinking too hard about Steve-the-target. Mostly by thinking very firmly about other things. Routine. Origami and experimenting with Kal-El's cupcake recipe.

But this is a nice change, being able to give Rosinante something happy to remember and hold onto. So their expression is relaxed when they offer the metal hand, and the stone wrapped in a scrap of fabric on top of it. "As promised. It's a good one."

[callada]

The harbor, more often than not this week, has been his hangout of choice. The aurora captivates him, and so many of the glittering stones rain down in places he can easily reach - or pull them closer with the branch he's been using if they hit the ice first and don't go flying off too far into the lake. For now, though, he's just taking a break, sitting back and watching the lights.

He turns at the sound of footsteps, and reaches out to take the stone. "A good one, hm?" Thankfully he has quite a few of those - little points of brilliance in a life that took too dark a turn too early, and ended with such violence.

It's Law, again. This particular memory has found its way to him before and that gives him hope. However these are created, maybe it's no coincidence that some of his fondest, most treasured moments are ones that have surfaced multiple times. This time he doesn't cry, thankfully, but instead smiles softly as the memory fades and he finds himself staring off into the light and shadows thrown by the aurora and the surrounding trees onto the glittering snow.

"He's a good kid," he says, voice surprisingly warm compared to how he often is here, so stoic and careful. "I hope he's doing all right on his own." He has to hope. The alternative isn't something he can stomach thinking about.

[worthallthis]

Experiencing Rosinante actually being happy, actually being silly, had been an interesting and pleasant insight into the man. Soldat can't miss the warmth, the smile. It's like Steve. (Or Steve before the horrible gnawing feeling that's replaced the comfort and reassurance of the happiest memories, anyway.)

Nope, not thinking about that.

So they ask, "How old was Law when you died?"

[callada]

"Thirteen." Almost fourteen, actually. He'd celebrated Law's birthday alone here in Beacon - a day full of bittersweet memories and far too much alcohol.

"Old enough to fend for himself, but I hope by now he's found friends, or someone who can take him in." Just because he can survive on his own doesn't mean he should. All he wants for Law is a normal life. Kids need friends at that age in general, and Law in particular is at such risk of growing more isolated and more angry if he doesn't have some warmth to balance it all out.

Assuming he managed to figure out the ope-ope fruit. Assuming he got off the island at all.

[worthallthis]

"Nobody should be alone," Soldat agrees with a nod. Thirteen is a good age to start taking responsibility, to learn, but definitely not alone. That's basically Soldat's motto these days, that no one should be alone. "You were good to him. Probably taught him a lot. He'll know what to do, what to look for."

[callada]

"Yeah. Thanks," he sighs. It's truly a shame they hadn't had more time together. He'd learned a lot from Law as well. Not just medical stuff, though that too - the kid's head was full of that kind of knowledge and he was always eager to share whatever morbid new fact he'd learned. But Law taught him how to laugh and smile again. How to be himself. How to look after someone. How to love and be loved in a way he hadn't felt since he lost his parents - and maybe not truly even then, since he was too young at six to know fully what that kind of affection really meant.

That makes him pause for a moment, quiet. He's resisted getting to know and care for most everyone here partly because that's just how he is, and partly, maybe, because he's afraid of letting go of Law. Of letting someone else fill that spot in his heart. Is that right? Is it healthy? Ugh.

Time to break out the cigarettes and light one while he mulls this over. Absently, he holds the pack out to Soldat as well. "Want one?"

[worthallthis]

Yeah, pal, that "nobody should be alone" applies to you, too. Doesn't matter who, so long as Rosinante's got an actual friend or three in this place, that's what's important.

The cigarette is quite readily plucked out with a wry half-smile. "You really think you have to ask?" They offer it to Rosinante's lit end for a light, themselves. "I've wanted a whole ration of these in rapid succession after some of these memories." The Sergeant's favorite coping mechanism had apparently been chain smoking, since drinking didn't do a damn thing, and the motions of smoking had been soothing even if the nicotine hadn't cut it. (And a whole pack in a row did a little, at least.)

Fun discovery, that recollection.

[callada]

Having done this often enough now, Rosinante shakes his head and gestures to Soldat's lantern with his own cigarette. "Gotta light off a flame like that, since the light won't spread from one cigarette to another - one of the weird quirks about this place and fire."

Still, as he places the cap back on his, it looks likely he's not about to offer his own lantern to light off of - unless Soldat's is one that can't, that has no flame, just a light. He'll wait to confirm. Just protective of his own. Seems prudent, even though he imagines Soldat is plenty careful enough.

"But I hear you. I might have to reorder from Rastus early to make sure I have enough to cover April." He's been going through them quickly, and offering them regularly to Will too these days.

[nekrosmanteia]

Most of these memories have been either bad or just bizarre, but this one's pleasant, and it's got something familiar to it. It's an emotion Gregor doesn't really have a word for, a combination of sympathy, affection, and protectiveness. It's almost possessive, and it's very relatable. As is the fact that being around this child brings out a somewhat different side of the opal's owner. That's what being responsible for someone else does to you, knowing you're the only person they have.

The memories that catch Gregor's interest are usually the ones that involve something terrible, or something utterly alien, but this one he keeps a hold of for a completely different reason. He thinks he has a good idea of who it belongs to, and Rosinante is going to want this one back. The best way to ensure that he gets it is to escort it personally.

Thankfully, Rosinante is one of the easiest people in Beacon to find. Gregor catches up with him at the harbor.

"See anything interesting yet?" If he's read him right, Rosinante seems like the type to sneak a glimpse into someone else's past, rather than avoid it. Maybe to return the stones to their rightful owners, or maybe for other reasons, hard to say, but in their other interactions, he always struck Gregor as the inquisitive type.

He'll bring up the opal in his pocket in a minute.

[callada]

"A few things," he replies with a shrug and turns his head toward Gregor as he approaches.

One of the more interesting things he's seen is how willing people are to find the original owners of these memories and hand them back. It's heartening. He can already tell he'll likely end up giving Gregor the one he found, now that they've run across each other. He's pulled enough information from it; no need to keep it.

"How about you?"

[nekrosmanteia]

A few things is right. These opals are a goldmine.

"Plenty. This whole thing is fascinating." Not only is he learning about the residents of the town, but their homes, their worlds, their customs. Some are very much adjacent to his own, while others are wholly alien. Both are equally valuable.

"One thing in particular, though." He reaches into his coat to produce the opal. "Thought you might like to have this."

His tone isn't somber or hesitant. So either it's nothing bad, or he's just very unimpressed by Rosinante's terrible memories.

[callada]

Rosinante's expression shifts subtly, from neutral to - well, pensive, really. These memories have been a mixed bag. Less so their actual content and more that he doesn't enjoy people finding them. After a lifetime spent keeping his history, his personal details, all under a metaphorical lock and key, it's extremely uncomfortable to have them forced out into the open like this. It hardly matters if what Gregor found is inconsequential or if he just has a very good poker face, Rosinante doesn't like that he's found anything at all.

He takes the opal and closes his eyes for a moment, letting the memory sink in. Law, again. It's probably a good sign that so many of the memories scattered around this place are thoughts of the boy, and not because they're the easiest to relive - they aren't, actually. Every time, it leaves him feeling a little hollow, and he slumps forward over his knees where he sits on the pebble-covered beach. He has felt Law's absence every day he's been here. Either the opals' abundance is a reflection of that fact, or - or it's just coincidence, but one he finds gratifying. In some stupid, nonsensical way he imagines it might be a reflection of the kid remembering him too. Maybe.

Ah, and damnit every time he comes out of this he becomes acutely aware of the tears welling up in his eyes. He tries to blink them away but that just makes a few streak down his face instead. Sengoku did always worry he was too sensitive to keep his emotions perfectly in check. Turns out the old man was right, wasn't he?

"Thanks," he eventually manages. "Yeah. I, uh. I have one of yours, too."

Sorting through his box of opals so he can hand it over is a good way to distract himself for a few minutes. Maybe that'll work. Maybe, as he hands the opal toward Gregor, the others' own memory will keep him occupied. At least they have something in common.

[nekrosmanteia]

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."

[callada]

Yeah, he needs a cigarette too, that much is a given. Would've wanted one anyway but the smell of Gregor's triggers a need in him. It gives him another thing to focus on briefly anyway as he forces back the slight shudder in his breathing.

"Yeah. I... wouldn't have expected that," he admits after a long draw, a slow exhale. Gets himself in check before he continues. "Most people here don't have kids, let alone..."

He gestures vaguely with his cigarette. Let alone that, the struggles of caring for a difficult child who isn't blood but who is family all the same. Of having to survive while also looking after someone who needs so much help, although Law helped him just as much - helped him sail, helped put out his stupid accidental fires, helped him realize what it is to love someone and to be loved back.

His mind is spinning, and he rests his head in a hand. "I've been here all this time, and I can tell you, being separated from him doesn't get any easier."

[nekrosmanteia]

It's definitely not the sort of experience he thinks is common, but Gregor supposes there have to be people in the infinite multi-verse that have raised kids as damaged as they used to be themselves. It's the fact that they met here and found each others' memories that's most unusual. Like attracting like, he supposes.

"Mm, I didn't expect it would." He's lost enough people over the years to know better. "But I'm not really worried about myself." He's sure Rosinante gets what he means.

A second later, he huffs out a short laugh. "Listen to me, sounding like a responsible adult."

[callada]

"No, it's - I completely understand," he says with a nod, and a small sympathetic smile, though it fades quickly. "I don't know how he's doing, and he wasn't really in a state to be alone. Plus... he was there when I died. I dunno how that's going to affect him."

He has a lot of worrying he's done over the months. For all that Law is smart and self-sufficient and determined, the unknowns terrify him and he imagines Gregor must feel much the same way.