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logsinthenight2020-02-16 05:05 pm
inthenightmods) wrote in logsinthenight2020-02-16 05:05 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- bruce wayne (marzi),
- bucky barnes (gail),
- catra (val),
- daylight vis lornlit (melly),
- dean winchester (miyou),
- duster (nara),
- elektra natchios (carlee),
- ellever brandt (crow),
- gregor allaine (leu),
- ignis scientia (helena),
- jason grace (erica),
- javert (rachel),
- jo harvelle (dee),
- kol mikaelson (jade),
- kylo ren (kelly),
- link (psi),
- maes hughes (erica),
- masaomi kida (wind),
- minimus ambus (nara),
- namine (ami),
- nancy wheeler (chrissy),
- newton geiszler (mippins),
- prompto argentum (daimon),
- quentin coldwater (ireth),
- rosinante donquixote (lauren),
- sarissa theron (bella),
- somnus lucis caelum (jae),
- sora (mawi),
- steve harrington (zelly),
- stone (gail),
- will ingram (leu),
- xayah (helena),
- zihuan cao pi (gemini)
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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no subject
She was nothing if not an inspiration in that way, I'll allow her that.
[She wants badly to know the context of his memory, but though she's nosy, she isn't about to be needlessly cruel. Rosalind reaches into her pocket, taking his opal out and sliding it across the table.]
Is it so shocking I grew up in wealth? I did attend one of Cambridge's sister schools. They aren't particularly cheap.
no subject
Anyway.]
No, hah, I just didn't realize wealth meant wings. It's cool.
[Is it? He has no real opinion, it's just a thing to say as he reaches for his opal—
—which of course sends the memory rushing back, his eyes going blank for a moment as the stupid opal does its thing. God, and it's so much worse than just remembering it normally. It's so much worse when he can't cut away or selectively fuzz bits of it over like he's grown used to doing with painful memories.
He leaves the opal on the table, not wanting to risk pocketing it just yet. Instead, he rubs his eyes under his glasses.]
What the hell is the point of memories like these? Thanks, you dumb rock, I don't need to rehash this one.
[He groans. It comes out far whinier than he means it to, like he's being overdramatic as a joke. Here's hoping that works in his favor.]
There's no story, if you were wondering. I was an accident, so she had me, dumped me on my dad, and ditched. To focus on her career, apparently.
[Apparently. Yeah, no story at all.]
no subject
As a coloratura soprano.
[The phrasing sticks out, memorized with a fourteen year old's careful indifference. His hurt sticks out, the way it ached and didn't, the way she-- he-- they-- so desperately wanted their mother to look over (and yet not), and oh, all that bragging at the end, I'll show you, Dr. Geiszler oh yes that Madam Lutece, yes, your daughter, yes, your son, yes, you fucked up and now you have to pay, you could have gotten in on the ground floor but you didn't and now you never will--
Yes, she remembers.]
Did you ever see her again?
no subject
[Or was, he supposes. More to that point: Rosalind's phrasing is distinctly past tense. It's accurate, yes, but it's another thing to hear it out loud.
It's disorienting, being dead, especially when he sure as hell doesn't feel dead. It doesn't feel like the issue with his mom will always now be unresolved, but that's how it is. Had he even wanted to meet her? Not particularly, no, but... It should've been his choice, and if he died never having made it, he wasn't supposed to hang around in the afterward to regret it.]
Nah. I thought about tracking her down when I was younger, but what would've been the point? She had my entire childhood to get over her shit and reach out, and she didn't, so whatever. Fuck it. She's the one who missed out.
[She probably doesn't even know he's dead.]
no subject
[But it would be better if she knew just how badly she ought to feel. Rosalind pauses, knowing precisely what it is he's feeling and not having any idea how to deal with it. She's never tolerated it for herself, burying it under work, but with Newt . . .]
What other opals have you found?
no subject
Right, uh... Oh! I found a couple with my dad and uncle.
[Which, from the way he perks up, he is clearly quite stoked to have.]
And I have one with Hermann, and then one with Hermann and our boss. Just lab stuff, mostly.
[And another one of Hermann from before they worked in Hong Kong together buuuuuuut he'd rather not dive right into that can of worms in the wake of a conversation about his mother.]
They're back at my place, but I'll show 'em to you later, if you want. What about you?
no subject
[It's a quiet moment of she and Robert, but not so intimate she finds the thought of him seeing repulsive. Besides: she rather likes the thought of getting to show Robert off, even a little. She'd never once gotten to be proud of him in the way she truly was. At least here and now, she can offer it to Newt: look, here he is, my heart.
It's a moment's work to get it from her room, and then she sets it down between them, glancing up at him.]
no subject
And, hey, this is not at all what he was expecting, and thank god for that. This is a happy memory, and he gets to see Robert—which, damn if that isn't mildly disorienting. Newt can't quite tell if Robert's comfortable familiarity is due to the memory's influence or just because Robert is Rosalind, when you get down to it.
It's both fascinating and bittersweet, watching them dance together. He can't fathom having to deal with a loss like that. Losing his family hurts like hell, but it's a distinctly different thing to share a life with another person.]
He's cute.
[Of course it'd be that, of all the things he's thinking and feeling in the wake of Rosalind's memory, that first comes tumbling out of his mouth. But that's what you say when someone shows you their significant other, and also, it's patently true, like, look at him—but goddammit you can't tell a girl you think her double is cute it just makes you look like an idiot. He flushes faintly, barreling forward before she can call attention to it.]
Uh, hey, it's awesome that you have that now. It's a nice memory. Wow, and you two really are identical.
[No, god.]
I mean, I get what you were saying before. How he enjoys frivolity more, hah.
no subject
Ah . . . you, ah, admire men in such a fashion, then?
[She'll get back to the implications of what else he said in a second, but one thing at a time.]
no subject
[The question stops him short, if only because it's absolutely not the thing he was expecting her to pull from that. But, oh, yeah... surprise! He laughs.]
Yeah, I'm bi. Everyone's cool with that kind of stuff in 2025.
[That is a wildly optimistic way to put it, but she doesn't need to know about the bummer parts of the future. They're definitely cooler about sexuality in 2025 than in the early 1900s, that's for sure.]
no subject
[Not bye, bi, as in two, as in-- oh, well, there's a word for that, is it? Hm.
Out of reflex, she glances around just once, though of course there's no one there. Still, there's a faint hint of tension in her-- not displeasure, but simple wariness of the outside world.]
I wasn't aware they'd come up with a term for it.
[. . .]
He was-- that is to say, we both-- are the same way.