logsinthenight | 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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a kitchen, that somehow seems very yellow. The sunlight, maybe, but there's a basket of lemons and oranges on the polished wooden counter which is both carefully maintained but very clearly old. Sarissa's eight, thin,and standing on top of a wooden stool to be able to reach the counter. Flour is stuck to her cheek, and there's a quiet tutting sound that is definitely from her grandmother. Eunike Michelides speaks in Greek for the most part, sometimes swapping between and that's how Sarissa replies - though her Greek is slower, sometimes substituting with English words or grammar when she doesn't know the right one, but whoever’s found this can understand it.

“Doryoula. What have you done to yourself, hm?" Her voice is clear, though with that intangible quality that somehow marks it as belonging to an old woman - not tremulous, or reedy, but something that falls into that realm. She makes a tutting sound, still, but she smiles as she uses a cloth to wipe the flour away. She's not a tall woman, and there's a scar that runs from her left cheekbone down to her jaw, with another bisecting it running almost parallel along the line of her jaw. She is very old, a dark blue scarf tied about her hair, grey and wavy, keeping it back from the cooking. There's a family resemblance, certainly, though less obvious with Sarissa so young and Eunike into her late eighties, skin softer and looser and battered by years of the sun. "Sometimes I think you like to play in the food, more than making it."

Her voice could sound stern, but for the gentle smile, and the way her hand drops to catch Sarissa's ribs and tickle her. Sarissa grins, far too pleased with herself, and tries to evade the tickling hand without falling off her perch.

"How long when it's ready?”

"How long until it's ready," Eunike offers the correction immediately, but not harshly, and Sarissa repeats it, trying to remember. It's hard, when she only gets to practice on weekends, and not all of those. "Forty minutes, and then it must cool. This you know."

Sarissa groans, the picture of suffering, and Eunike silences her with a look, before lapsing back into English. "Little one, there will be a time when you think forty minutes is never enough, as well. Come, wash your hands, and grab a cloth. We cannot be leaving this place in all a shambles, hm?"

Since the great microwave tragedy, Sarissa has felt even less inclined to cook. She's not above mooching around Miriam's place for food, but right now she's just contently flopped on the ground, watching the lights, and the problem is that she's hungry. What are the odds a kind passer-by will bring her something? What are the odds she can be bothered asking? Ugh, her life is hard.

Edited 2020-02-17 06:57 (UTC)

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

memory 2: ota