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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[After a series of chance encounters with a peculiar spirit, Somnus goes to the scene of the spirits' ascent. He's heard about this strange ritual, but this is his first time seeing it in action. His expression is a touch apprehensive throughout the display; still, he stays for the entirety of the moment and lowers his head once the light emitted by the spirits upon bursting have faded into nothing, and only then does he make his way back to town.

Truly, he doesn't understand this place.]

[Quentin says by the spirits, not because he really wants to or because the festivities are cheering him up, but. It's sad, in some way. Even if not all the spirits had helped them. Even if some of them had actively tried to kill everyone...

Watching them throw what little life they had left away like it was nothing?

It's tragic.

And strangely reminiscing of Quentin's own life. He's watching the spirits dance and gibber at each other, when he turns to the person next to him.]

Do you think they understand that this is killing them?

[Even once he's addressed, he continues to watch the spirits. But he does unfold his arms to have them hang at his sides.]

They perceive death differently from us. Even if they understood, the faith that drives rituals like these bears far greater weight than our words.

[So long as it's of no detriment to others, let them do as they please—that's Somnus' approach. And, so far, the spirits have yet to do outside harm.]

Yeah. There was something like that in my world, too.

[Mostly, it was religious nuts, but the urge to fervently believe in something was kind of everywhere. Just. Not everyone was willing to throw themselves in to a fire to prove it.

He watches the spirits quietly.]

I'm Quentin, by the way. And yeah, maybe they do. They didn't seem to have any problems killing any of us either.

Somnus.

[He looks over at Quentin to memorize the face to the name as he answers.]

The spirits seem disinclined to include us in their ritual.

[This time, anyway. They explain what's going on well enough when asked, but there have been no invitations to join them on the ride, which is just as well.]

Your name is Sleep?

[Coming from Quentin Makepeace Coldwater, that's rich. But still, though.]

They do. It's like we're not even here, not really. Not for this. [Which, is a relief and very suspicious all rolled in to one and Quentin frowns at the spirits, who in turn pay him no mind at all.

Somnus.

And the word rolled through his mind, because--

Oh.]

Have you noticed the rocks falling from the sky?

[Yes, and he likes to sleep very much, thank you. He turns back to the spirits, then looks up at the aurora.]

I have. They seem to contain memories.

[After the initial shock of the first time, he's managed to return a few opals to their rightful bearers. He can't say that he's looking forward to more, but he can't just leave any stone unturned when he comes across it.]

Right? I thought they were dreams at first? Or, maybe hallucinations, because there's been-- something like that before.

But these feel different.

[Like small slices of someone else's life, with all the emotional baggage that comes with that and Quentin turns his head away from the spirits, watching Somnus in profile.

That thing tickles the back of his brain again, the scent of wood-smoke and disease.]

Lord Somnus?

[His brow furrows as he narrows his eyes.]

That was my title at birth. I can no longer claim it. [With his attention still fixed on the aurora, he declines to meet Quentin's gaze just yet.] You've seen something of mine, then.

I-- yeah, I think so. Can I... just see your arm?

[Jesus, he sounds like a crazy person. Not just now, but to almost everyone he's trying to match to the memories in his bag. Still, though, it seems wrong to just hand over memories unless he's sure. Absolutely sure, that it goes to the right person.

What had Wayne said on the network? Information is power? And holding people's memories in your hand is very literal information.]

[Even if that request comes out of seemingly nowhere, Somnus has experienced stranger things in Beacon. So he raises his dominant arm without fuss. Sure enough, there's the bracer he was wearing in the memory.]

What of it?

Then, yeah. I have something that belongs to you.

[Quentin gets the rock out without touching it again, because jesus fuck he doesn't need to see that again and he holds it out with his sleeve pulled down over his hand.]

I'm not sure you want it back...?

[Somnus gives Quentin a sidelong glance. Yes, he wants it back. The sleeve pulled over the proffered hand is telling, but Somnus takes the opal into his own and relives the memory without further ado.

Ah, that explains the reluctance. With the flick of his wrist, he dismisses the opal to an extradimensional space. His own expression betrays little, if any, of his thoughts.]

You have my thanks.

You're welcome?

[What do you even say to that? Thanks? It's not like Somnus wanted him to see that, or maybe even know about the killings and the burning bodies and Quentin shifts on his feet, both hands stuffed firmly in to his pocket.]

What, uh, was that?

[He stares at the space over Quentin's shoulder, then snaps his gaze back to him. What was what? The memory? It's strange enough that Quentin is still here after returning something like that.]

What?

The sick people. You were...

[And half-remembered numbers and equations from history flashes briefly through Quentin's head, the Black Plague and the Spanish Flu. Killing millions and those were just the ones he could remember. There might have been more.

Still, though.]

They were sick. What happened? If that's okay to ask? I mean, I didn't mean to watch it and I didn't even know it was yours until just now.

[Nobody meant to watch anything. Somnus understands that's it necessary to look, anyway, if the opals are to be returned to their rightful owners. He folds his arms and looks off to the side.]

It's as you saw. The land was beset by a plague that made monsters of men. In order to protect the people, I took the bodies of those afflicted to the flames.

That's not--

[And maybe it's universal. Or, multiversal. The use of fire to cleanse.]

You didn't have a cure. [For once, not a question. And Quentin reaches out, almost touching Somnus' shoulder but his hand makes it about halfway before Quentin lets it fall.] Did you save them? The people?

[That's not what? Somnus glimpses movement from the corner of his eyes. As it falls short, however, he doesn't turn back. So what if he didn't have a cure? He did what he could.]

After all that, I perished with naught to show for it. I know not what's become of them.

Oh.

[So. Not what Quentin had thought, it wasn't the first memory in a long line of them on the path to victory.]

Is that how you died?

[Morbid and intrusive, and he knows it. But they all died in various ways, with nothing in common and no link that he can put his finger on. They burned and they were shot, they fell to their death or were poisoned. Drownings and hangings and someone said she was still coughing up blood when she woke up on the ferry.]

Do you think they'll come back? The spirits?

I was felled by a blade.

[Before Quentin starts getting ideas, Somnus would clarify that here. He never fell ill.

That's a good question, though. From what he's gathered, spirits can't truly die, yet the overall attitude behind this tradition lends an air of permanence to their actions.]

The wound was fatal, yet I walk this earth all the same—a miracle about which the spirits seem even less concerned. Perhaps they'll return. What are your thoughts?

Someone stabbed you with a sword.

[Translation, not that any of them need it. He watches the spirits, in high-- spirits, partying like it's going out of style. Like they don't have a care in the world except for the ones who will throw themselves at the bright light in the sky.

What the hell would they do if the sun came out?

He blinks, coming back to the conversation.]

I don't know. I think maybe no? But honestly, I have no idea. They don't seem to get the concept of dying. They killed a lot of us, and they mentioned on the network that they didn't get what the fuss was about.

[They used smaller and more words for it, but it all came down to - why are you even bothered, you come back.]

[Yes, he sure was stabbed. It hurt, and it's not important.

What is, are the spirits. He's heard a similar claim about their lack of understanding from someone else. They really are different from the people bound to lanterns, from their way of thinking down to their method of communicating.]

Does it trouble you?

[The idea that their deaths might last.]

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.]

[They can only be so lucky. Somnus doubts they'll be able to change the spirits' minds about partaking in this morbid custom. They shouldn't rely so much on the friendly nature of the spirits, either, in his opinion. Boons come and go while hardship is ever constant.]

Then there's naught that can be done but to adjust our approach.

[Rather than worrying about what might be, they might as well forge contingent plans around it.]

Are you adept at communing with the spirits?

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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cw- suicidal thoughts, if you squint

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