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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Your mother and a few others, discussing a sacrifice. Your sacrifice, done ostensibly for peace.

[She reaches into her bag, pulling out an opal covered in an oily cloth. It's his, and she sets it between them. She hesitates for a few seconds, then:]

. . . it wasn't a situation unfamiliar to me.

[ he doesn't take it back.

in fact, daylight leans away and makes a face (a scowl, even?) at the opal's appearance. like he's afraid the thing will launch at him and force him to re-experience the memory and emotions with it.

he looks up at madam lutece when she says that, his expression hesitant and critical at the same time. ]

From which end? [ that came out a lot sharper than he had meant to but it says something about his temperament these days if the topic of his family comes up. ]

A third party observer.

[But more on the mother's end than his, if she's being strictly honest.]

Do you wish me to keep it?

[The opal.]

No!

[ daylight startles forward and - with a motion of his arm, and a strange hum coming from his frame - he generates a little forcefield around the opal. as if he's afraid madam lutece will take the opal now.

when he realises what he's done, day looks embarrassed and apologetic while willing the shield to disapparate. ]

Sorry... But- No. I want to keep it. I don't want anyone else to see this.

[ but. ]

... Can I ask for your thoughts on the situation then? The one you observed?

[Hm. She regards him silently for a few moments, quiet.]

My thoughts are that there are situations in which sacrifice is necessary. And no matter the individual sentiment, no matter how horrific the prospect, there are causes bigger than one's life, one's self-- or one's children. It sounds as though your mother was angling for some kind of universal peace? There's always a price for everything. And the larger the prize, the larger the price.

. . . but.

There are also a great many people who do things for petty, selfish reasons. For reasons that they deem important and just, but aren't. And who will use others for their own ends, wringing every bit of usefulness out of them-- no matter how much they supposedly love them, no matter how they supposedly believe in righteousness. And til their dying day, they'll be convinced they did the right thing, no matter how many bodies they leave in their wake.

[She sighs softly and reaches for her wine glass.]

I don't know which your mother was, Daylight. Do you?

I don’t know.

[ daylight looks down at his servos that have now retreated to his lap, curled into tight fists. it hurts how tightly he's clenching his fists and how tight his core feels in his chassis, stuttering and spinning so hard and fast it feels like it'll collapse on itself.

he hates that he has the answer. he hates that this is his immediate answer. ]

I never knew her.... [ it says awful in his mouth to say it. more than ever, in the revelation of this memory and how it colours his life. ] And I trusted my Auntie Laura and Uncle Leeds and the others’ accounts of her. They were best friends. They went through so much. If there was anyone I can trust about her, it was them.

[ ... and he can’t trust in their word anymore, given their involvement in this.

he looks at madam lutece again, his optics dim and his winglets pulled low behind his back. ]

What happened in what you saw? Was what they were doing the right thing, after all?

In my world? God, no. That was the result of a madman believing that God had blessed him, and thus any sinful action he might undertake. He stole a child; he raised her to be a vengeful angel, too broken to do anything but his whims.

[She says it gravely, but there's something extra in her voice. Elizabeth has disappeared, and it's not as if Rosalind was ever overly fond of the girl, but it's . . . well. In any case.]

. . . but your mother did not remind me of that man, for what comfort it may offer.

[ upon hearing her response, daylight visibly sags in relief and lets his helm hang low for a couple of seconds. it does give him some bit of comfort. not a lot but it helps him vent easier, knowing his mom wasn't like that. daylight doesn't think his spark could take any more surprises or revelations like that.

and though day does notice the something more in madam lutece's voice, he has a feeling bringing it up wouldn't be the best thing. ]

So what do you think happens now? [ finally, he reaches out to take the opal, careful to not touch it as he carefully inspected it. ] I can't confront her or my auntie and uncle. They're all dead at this point. [ he winces, hating the fact he needs to use that word and hating the way it's gotten easier to think of them as that now. ] It's not like I can open a book or datapad to read their thoughts and reasoning for... for... you know...

[ he makes a vague gesture with the opal, to its memories it contained. ]

I do know, yes.

[Her fingers smooth against the grain of the table, choosing her words carefully.]

. . . I would suggest you move on. There's nothing to be gained by lingering in the past, and nothing to be gleaned from reliving those memories.

[. . .]

How did you die?

[It's a relevant question.]

[ the question has daylight looking at madam lutece with clear surprise and uncertainty. a part of him feels hesitant to speak about the circumstances that brought him here but-

another part of him recognises that they're, well, dead. why hide the truth when nothing will come out of it being known? ]

... Someone I cared for was going to kill someone else. I stumbled across them by accident, saw they were taking the shot, and I stepped in to take it instead.

[ he presses his servo against his chassis. even after all this time, day can still feel the burn of the shot going through him, the too-much sensation of burnt wires and internals exposed to cool air. ]

I didn't regret it, for what it's worth. Neither did they- They made sure to say it - but I don't regret stepping in to help.

[There's a thousand questions she wants to ask, beginning from do you truly still not regret it and ending in why did you help at all? And she'll ask them, but this first.]

Nothing to do with your mother, then?

[. . .]

My point was merely that it happened. Either way, it happened, and there's nothing to be done by thinking about it, because your mother, your friend, your aunt and uncle, they none of them are here. And so it follows that they none of them can answer your anger or anguish, that there is nothing to be gained by ruminating over your past, because there's no conclusion to it. Just grief, renewed each time.

I was murdered. And while I would seek revenge if I could, I cannot. So I don't think about it.

[ ... in a sense, it did? he only ended up bonding with erin because of the fact she-

hmmm. no. day wasn't to complicate his answers when his processors are already spinning. nor does he want to take away from madam luece when she begins to speak again, laying out her own details in a surprisingly to-the-point and honest fashion that day wishes he had for his situation.

he looks down, wringing his servos while he stews over madam lutece's words and tries to imagine himself trying to apply it in his situation. ]

Does it get any easier? [ that's the burning question for daylight right now. he looks back up, looking torn. ] If you end up thinking about the circumstances that... brought you here... Does it get easier to ignore the...

[ he struggles to find the words. anger. regret. disgust. those are the words that pop in his processors and he feels them but he doesn't feel they're right. not yet. ] Does it get easier to ignore the emotions?

[ he'll have to go with that for now. ]

[He's a child, Rosalind reminds herself-- or, no, not a child, not really. But at least far younger than she always instinctively thinks. She sees his stature and imagines he must be an adult, but no, and here's the proof: he thinks she can possibly offer an answer to a question like that.]

You ask the wrong person.

For me? Yes. But I am very, very good at repressing and slicing away those emotions which are most inconvenient to me. It's served me well, but I cannot imagine you wish to do such a thing.

[A pause. Rosalind stares at nothing for a few seconds, and then adds carefully:]

. . . they say time heals all wounds. But I would amend it to: time dulls them. You may never fully forgive those who wronged you, but it won't always consume your thoughts. You'll find that sooner or later, they'll slip from your mind, especially if you occupy yourself with new things. The-- the wound will still be there, you'll always bear the scar, and certainly you won't forget what happened, but . . .

Yes, Daylight. It does get easier, so long as you don't fixate on what was.

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EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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