EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

[inthenightmods]

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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Comments

[cained]

( he nods silently as the opal passes hands, eyeing bruce like he would sam, looking him over for signs of anything he might not be saying. it's all instinct, at this point, the natural big brother instinct. maybe it should have gone away at a certain age — sam's been an adult, been able to take care of himself for a long time now — but it's wired so deeply into who dean is as a person, he can't shake the automatic urge to protect. )

They're a real bitch, ain't they.

( it's more of a statement than a question, because they are, as far as he's concerned, a bitch. he can't be sure he's found all of his own, which doesn't exactly sit well with him — and he can only assume the memory he found of bruce's was just a tiny glimpse into whatever the kid might be dealing with, so the least he could do it return it and not talk about the details. because it's what dean would want anyone else to do with his: pretend like they didn't see anything, pretend it's all just fine. )

[pearlstrings]

[Bruce is full of things he doesn't say, but there are some secrets he's better at keeping than others. He can acknowledge that he's still, in many ways, a work in progress- but he'd like to believe that what Selina once told him was the truth. He's changing. Being outside of Gotham, with no faces that knew him Before, he has no way to measure an objective After. The opal comes away in his hand and even now, after the destruction of the bridges and the isolation of the city, after Gotham has been an annexed warzone for a year, the fear he'd felt in that moment washes over him again. Will the little bitch ever walk again? Then the rage.

Bruce's jaw tightens, and the opal is put carefully into his pocket.

His gaze goes to the man's lantern instead, a well honed reflex at this point. Like fingerprints each is a distinct representation of its bearer, so few share even a common shape. And perhaps caught off guard by the sentiment, by what can really only be considered a show of kindness, Bruce huffs a short breath through his nose. It could generously be called a laugh.]

That's one way to put it.

[Bruce's expression doesn't quite soften, but it does open, just a little. He's always had a curious nature and Beacon hasn't dampened it in the slightest.]

How's your project going?

[cained]

( dean's lantern, much like himself, seems to carry the traits of one who's literally been to hell and back and then some — with its rough edges and metalwork that's seen better days, it's like there's trauma cast into the very iron itself. he's still not entirely sure what it says about this place (or, maybe, about him and sam) that his lantern looks almost identical to his brother's.

the corner of his mouth curves upward in something close to amusement with just a hint of what might be considered pride. or maybe he's just a little bit impressed by bruce knowing exactly who he is already — not that dean's particularly subtle or really all that hard to read if you're paying close enough attention. )

The car? It'll be up and running as soon as the next ferry rolls in. At least, as long as Rastus delivers on his word.

( and if he doesn't, well ... then dean will be having words with him. )

[pearlstrings]

I've heard it can be a little bit of a gamble. But worse come to worse there's always the night market.

[It's distinct largely for it's geometry. Whether they like it or not, the lanterns that accompany each person into Beacon do more than just identify their owners, they reveal a disquieting number of details. They say a little too much. Bruce's own lantern is barely visible because of the way he carries it- hooked to a short strap behind his back, out of immediate reach, near enough to his body that both hands can remain free.

It allows him to extend one hand a moment later, a belated introduction because no matter how far he might be from Gotham, Alfred would never forgive him for forgetting his manners.] Sorry, I'm Bruce.

[cained]

( dean's expression turns sour at the mention of the night market. to say he's extremely displeased by his experience would be an understatement. but it's fine. he'll get over it. he is over it. (he's not.) who the hell left a kid in charge of selling weapons, anyway? )

Yeah, too bad hunter's currency ain't worth shit around here. ( which mostly means favors from the winchesters; these days, having one of them owe you is worth more than physical currency. but they aren't exactly known around these parts, so nobody's willing to barter on favors alone. except rastus, apparently. dean isn't completely on board with the condition of giving back to the community (even if half of them are kids and probably would benefit from learning how to hunt), but sam seems to think it would be irresponsible not to comply. whatever.

bruce offers his hand and dean grins faintly, extending his own. he expects the kid to have one hell of a handshake. ) Dean Winchester. Good to meet you, Bruce.

[pearlstrings]

[It reads like a nonsequitor; Bruce has no idea what hunter's currency is because beyond being a method of payment, the people who've arrived in Beacon come from such a vast array of places and times that it really could be anything. But Dean takes his hand and they meet halfway.

The corner of his mouth quirks, as if they're having a private, shared joke. It's the kind of expression that's starting to become synonymous with whoever Bruce Wayne is- the person who wears nice suits to charity balls and fundraising galas. Perhaps it doesn't matter. It isn't the first or only mask he's ever worn.]

I don't know if you'll get a chance to do much hunting. In all the months I've been here I haven't heard of any animals. It's just the spirits.

[cained]

( right, he should probably clarify. wouldn't want to give the kid the wrong impression. besides, it's not like it's a total secret, what he does (people usually just don't believe him, so it's not worth the explanation). besides, he and sam are bound to have to tell people eventually. they do have a certain set of skills, after all. )

Lucky for me, that ain't the kinda thing I hunt. Spirits are more in my wheelhouse — but these are new, even for me.

( hence why he's so reluctant to believe they're friendly. casper the friendly ghost is only friendly until, inevitably, he gets vengeful. he can only imagine that's what these green-eyed spirits are — or even what all spirits may eventually become. he's been down that road before with bobby and he ain't about to put his faith in any other spirits, especially unfamiliar ones.

still. he's not about to shoot every spirit he sees, even if every instinct tells him he should. )

Don't worry. I won't go postal on anything that don't have it coming.

[pearlstrings]

[Bruce has never been easy to read, but he hasn't trained himself out of the habits of social-conditioning. It's true that he's somewhat more guarded than others, and certainly moreso than his peers- but there are moments where his body betrays him. There's an instance of that now, in the brief widening of his eyes. He knows that he shouldn't be surprised, there are people who fight with giant keys, there are vampires and magicians, there is a very literal dragon. Surely a human who hunts spirits is the least extraordinary extension. Maybe it's because Dean looks, sounds so ordinary.

His weight pivots, a wordless invitation to follow as he heads towards the Invincible.]

I don't know how many of them would mind, to be honest. They were launching themselves into the aurora not long ago. [The words remain, what's death to a dead thing? Momento Mori indeed.]

But some have been quite useful, and we don't know how many resets they've seen.

[cained]

( with the exception of a handful of enthusiasts with way too much time on their hands (or, you know, sometimes just plain nutjobs), pretty much everyone who encounters the winchesters (or any hunter, for that matter) starts out a skeptic. it's what The Talk is for, only it ain't the birds and the bees. sooner or later, bruce will get The Talk. all things considered, it might be sooner rather than later.

he follows bruce's lead, keeping the instinctive "you old enough to drink?" comment to himself as they head toward the invincible even if it betrays him in the way his eyebrow quirks slightly. they're dead, right? the same rules don't apply. dean would be a hypocrite, anyway, considering he had his first drink before he was ten. that's just the life of a hunter's kid, though, so maybe he's more of an outlier and shouldn't be counted. besides, the invincible isn't just a bar. )

Right. ( the nature of these spirits is ... strange, even for him. maybe he's just too jaded. ) See, I don't exactly subscribe to Friendly Spirits Weekly, I'm more of a Vengeful Spirits Monthly kinda guy. In my experience, usefulness don't always outweigh vengefulness. For all I know, all these things could be ticking time bombs waiting to go darkside.

( but ... you know, they seem to be taking care of the possible problem themselves so. he doesn't really know what to think. )

[pearlstrings]

[Dean makes for strangely refreshing company. Bruce prizes honesty and directness in a person, even if he can acknowledge that they're qualities he lacks in himself. And he hasn't had to ask for them yet. Their conversations thus far have been peppered with sarcastic remarks, but they've also been very purposeful- they seem to share an appreciation understanding the mechanics of the world around them. Both literal and figurative.

As private as Bruce tends to be, he recognizes that very little can be done on his own- with his own mind and his own skills and his own theories. He needs other perspectives. He always has.]

That's a valid precaution.

[Bruce's head turns, enough to be considered a polite attempt to meet his gaze as he speaks, guiding them up the stairs and into the bar- around the tables, towards the back. There's a coffee pot that he spends an undue amount of time with.]

There was an event a few months ago- the spirits hosted a feast. Those of us who ate were in a dream for several days, but those that didn't were attacked by a number of spirits. I'm told that all of Beacon was more or less under siege.