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!

QUICKNAV
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They're not really sure they believe it, either. But they can play the game well enough to say, back, "You and the kid must be rubbing off on me."

They produce an actual handkerchief for her, next.

"Bout time, you need the levity."

It's probably for maintenance, she figures, but if that handkerchief doesn't strike as the most gentlemanly nonsense--

"Thank you." Of course it's accepted, and a moment is taken to start dabbing at her eyes. Purposeful, as if all of this will fade once the task is done. "This'd be a hug moment, just for the record. Won't do it, but that's what'd be happening."

Sometimes maintenance is cleaning the arm. Sometimes maintenance is wiping one's nose when it starts to run because it's fucking cold outside. Sometimes it's drying one's eyes because one cries way too easily, these days. It's all good, Misty.

"I have levity," Soldat protests. Very soberly and seriously. "I'm very funny, Misty." And because the idea of a hug is confining and makes their head pound a little harder, the do the next best thing and put their hand around her wrist for a gentle squeeze. "And this is a wrist-hug." See? Sense of humor. They have levity. So there.

The grin widens. How self aware that is, she can't quite parse, but it's very funny. The wrist hug gets an actual laugh, even as she's returning the pressure. "You're hilarious, you're completely right. Thank you. Really."

Well, considering this was meant as a joke in and of itself, obviously there's got to be some self-awareness going on. They give her wrist a fond little shake, then let her go. "You're welcome." Soldat picks themselves up, rubbing at one temple. "And now I have to eat something." It might make the headache better. Or at least distract from it. Distract from the things that caused it.

"Apologize to him for me, whenever he's in commission?" This can be the last of that; regrettable overall, but best put to bed. "Anything you want. I can help, unless you were looking to keep yourself busy."

"You can help," they say, shuffling wearily into the kitchen to find something easy and quick to put together. "Not so much keeping busy. Just my head hurts. Food might help." It's not like they entirely understand it's pretty much entirely psychosomatic-- they don't even know that word exists-- so explaining properly isn't happening. The closest they can get is, "Feels like there's too much in my head."

"Drink while you go, then." Accepting this at face value, suspect timing largely chalked up to the real possibility his issues are bound up in actual, physical issues with his head, her chief worries are simple ones. Hydration, rest, and the like. Sleep would be a poor suggestion. "And then keeping still, however much you can. Nothing demanding this afternoon."

There's a still a schedule to keep to, Misty. It's just luckily not a very strenuous schedule right now. After this, in fact, the plan was to go hunt down more memories before bed. That's not looking like quite as pleasant as before, to be honest. Digging out the cocoa rather than the coffee, for comfort purposes, they say quietly, "Used to be able to be still. For hours. Just not thinking about anything but the mission. Watching surveillance or waiting for a target. Could probably still do it. But it'd be really, really boring now."

It's what happens when your brain starts to work a little more thoroughly: you learn what boredom is.

"I don't mean doing nothing, cher." Exactly one elbow to elbow nudge as she digs through the fridge. There's no plan going in, but, hey, grilled cheese has a good track record for sad food so far. "I mean just resting. Talk, read, game of cards, stuff like that where you're not moving so much."

Grilled cheese is always approved of. Especially if she adds some tomato or something. "Oh." They set the kettle on to heat the water. "That just doesn't make me think 'still'. Being still means not moving." That's a pretty specific command. "Be still". That's not what Misty means, though, which is a relief. "But cards is fine. And music."

"Relatively still, I mean relatively. As opposed to, y'know, all the running around and patrolling." Exertion, really, minimization of exertion is the point. Cheese grilling has commenced. And look - tomato. Knows him so well. "Whatever works, whatever helps, I caused it so I wanna help fix it."

They get down two mugs, then settle back against the counter to wait on the water, and the sandwiches. Aw, tomato. Best handler ever. "You didn't cause my headache, Misty. It's been around since yesterday. Just gets better or worse."

"Made it worse then, still counts." She's liable to set about henning now and then too - injury or discomfort of any significant sort are fair game. "You're not worried? That's a long while."

"Never had this many old memories banging around in here. Coming back all at once. Might just be how it works." For a beat, their expression does shade a little concerned, looking aside. "Hope HYDRA didn't really break something in here." It's entirely possible all that electricity just... did permanent damage to their long-term memory. The places in the brain it's supposed to stay. They really have no way of knowing.

"Hey." This is punctuated with a plate gently prodding his stomach - in the name of maximizing their potential as crisis food she's learned to crank these out fast. "If they did any physical damage, I could fix it, and it's too early to be sure. Keep track, maybe. Write down when headaches crop up, whenever you get big memories back, see if they sync up. Might just be stress or something, bodies are weird."

She'll do the worrying on this one, punk.

"And you've got music to pick."

That's... kind of a relief, actually. They'll let her worry about it; she's the one with healing magic. She and Aziraphale could probably fix anything, if it turns out there's a real problem.

So they smile warmly and say, "Yes, Misty."

Food is good. They'll take that plate, and have one bite just in time for the kettle to start whistling. Down it goes again, so they can pour water over the cocoa so they have something warm to drink, too. Misty gets hers offered to her wordlessly, and then they go settle on the couch with sandwich and cocoa to find some nice music to listen to, and hope the damn headache goes away.

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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