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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Masaomi turns over his shoulder to give Sora a sour look. Then he immediately throws off the sweatshirt. No matter whether Sora had good or bad intentions, food is the last thing Masaomi wants to look like in a place full of hungry monsters! At least he's still wearing his white under shirt as he twists to face Sora upfront.

Gotta mind those delicate sensibilities.

"If anything, I'm a delectable custard pudding. The crème de la crème!" So there! "So what'cha got for me?"

Sora will watch that poor thing go flying! Aw, man, that's the opposite of what he wanted! He's going to reach down to pick that up, then pause as Masaomi puts that question right out there. Oh, right, the thing! The thing he's here to deliver. Right.

"Okay, delectable custard pudding, I see you. Here." And he'll thrust that paper packet at him. MASAOMI - not great. How does Masaomi feel about that label? As soon as he takes it, Sora's going to continue his arc toward the sweater, picking it up and shaking it out. It's not really his business whether Masaomi touches it or not, but he does want to be there in case Masaomi ends up in a bad way afterward.

"As long as we're clear on that," he rolls smoothly along until an envelope is shoved in his face. He scrunches his nose when he catches sight of that label, but he accepts the delivery anyway, oblivious to Sora's sweatshirt concerns. He doesn't touch the opal itself just yet. Instead, he fishes. "What, did someone throw a vending machine at you while you were watching?"

Please, please tell him it was something innocuous like that.

"What? No." He looks at Masaomi, bemused. "You know someone who can do that?" Technically, Sora also knew someone who could do that, but that's something he'd never know unless Joshua Kiryuu somehow arrives in Beacon.

"I guess that'd be, uh. Not great." Sora studies the sweatshirt... then starts stuffing himself into it. His shoulders are wider than Masaomi's by a bit, but they're around the same size, so it'll end up drowning him in the same way. "You got a phone call," Sora says finally, popping his head out the collar and shaking out his hair. "From your crew. It was about your friend, um. Mikado?"

Just the thought of Heiwajima Shizuo slides the edge of his lips upward. He doesn't know the guy personally, no, but he's always been an immediately recognizable piece of Ikebukuro. If Masaomi could see a flying vending machine or road sign here in Beacon, it would only put him at ease. He'd been a little scared of the guy back then. Now he remembers even the most hectic encounter more fondly. But when Sora frees his hair from that oversized collar, Masaomi's nostalgic little grin has vanished. His mouth is tight, face pale.

"Oh," he manages, pauses to lick his lips. "You saw that, huh?"

Sora looks absolutely hilarious. Right out of an ancient educational video. But all Masaomi can bring himself to look at are the other boy's shoes. What else can he say? After a moment, he settles for the first thing that comes to mind.

"He's okay. ...Mikado, I mean."

"Unlike me" goes unsaid.

Sora did, man. He did. Not great.

"I was worried about Mikado. It seemed like you were really worried about him." Sora is trying to feel out that expression, fully engulfed in this terrible yellow sweater, but he's not really sure where all the hurt is coming from. The expectation that Masaomi is expecting Sora to hate him for what he saw is the last thing on his mind.

"I was actually more worried about you, though?" He shakes his head. "That was rough. Did... the rest of it turn out okay?"

"I saved Mikado."

The words are sharp, curt, and final - intended to curb further questioning. This impression is supported by his clenched teeth, the now crumpled envelope in his fist. Mikado is safe. That is the only detail that matters to Masaomi, and it's the only detail that should matter to Sora too. If Masaomi doesn't think that way, then...

His death really would have no meaning.

"And I knocked that kidnapping bastard's teeth out. That sound okay to you?"

It's frustrating and stupid and petty to bite at Sora like this, to test someone he'd wanted to impress with the kind of question that demands a very scripted answer. But as the fear and anger begin to bubble up the back of his throat, he knows he needs to hear that answer. Without it, he won't be able to shake the urge to bolt.

Man, if there's a script, Sora would like to see it. He's been flying by the seat of his pants for a long time. Maybe if someone would tell him what to do, he wouldn't have to feel so lost.

Still engulfed in that stupid sweater, Sora considers the situation for a moment... then puts his hands in his pockets.

"That sounds fine." It's what he would have done. "I was asking about you though." Getting ditched by your crew, no matter how close you were with them, is tough. You pour so much of yourself into other people when you join a crew. Sora wants to know if Masaomi was okay after that. And if that makes Masaomi... Mad? Sad? Frustrated? Hurt? Well... he's just going to have to deal with it? This is what Sora's about.

It's clear Sora hasn't seen this particular script, and Masaomi, devoid of the answer he was looking for, is left empty, without any idea of what he can say. Hadn't he'd made it clear that he doesn't want to talk about himself, that the answer to Sora's question will only hurt them both? This isn't a bounce house they're playing in. It's some sort of twisted afterlife limbo.

No one here had a happy ending.

Exasperated and just about ready to give it all up himself, Masaomi splays both arms to each side, as if to gesture at everything around them. The smile twitching at the edge of his lips is unforgiving.

"I'm dead."

Not great, indeed.

"But how are you?"

Sora flinches at that, and for a brief, brief moment, looks angry. Then closes his eyes and breathes out. Masaomi knows they're all dead. That that's how they're all connected. This is how Sora's supposed to get angry and turn around and leave because of how much that hurts and how little Masaomi cares.

What's your problem, Sora might have said once, in a past life.

"I think. You want me to go," Sora says instead, and it's not the best thought out rejoinder, but it's one that feels like the truth. It's the most basic truth, here. (It's honestly the only thing he can say without losing it, because he doesn't want to lose this friendship, not right after he just made it, he likes him, where does he get off on trying to get out of it?) "Why do you want me to leave?"

Edited (phrasing) 2020-03-18 00:35 (UTC)

Sora leaving?

It's everything he thinks he wants. And yet when Sora actually says it out loud, guilt stings in his chest. Wide stretched arms droop and curl into themselves as Masaomi bites at his lip. That's not what he wants at all. He's just terrified of what the consequences will be if he stays. Sora had been a complete stranger, but that hadn't stopped the guy from searching for him or from checking the church.

Something like this just might though.

This isn't why Masaomi called him over. This isn't what he wants to be doing right now. He wants to be laughing at that stupid mustard colored sweater. But now he can't, and it's his own damn fault. The fight drains out of him then, aggression twisting until its directed inward where it belongs. Deflated, Masaomi plops his ass down on the floor in defeat.

"Maybe 'cause it's the smart thing to do?" he asks as if even he doesn't know.

Edited 2020-03-18 06:50 (UTC)

Sora chews his lip and tries not to smile and also tries not to well with tears because man. Man.

He hesitates, considers how he's going to say the next thing extremely carefully, then pulls himself out of the sweater and sits down where he is, face to face with Masaomi, the sweater crumpled up in his lap. After another moment of thought, he looks at Masaomi, the keyhole pupils in his eyes narrowing just a little at him.

"That's what I said when a friend found out I was in a gang," he says, smiling, but with the same sort of watery tension. "I was surprised when he kept texting me back."

Edited (you saw nothing) 2020-03-18 22:07 (UTC)

Masaomi has no idea what he's expecting. Platitudes maybe? Awkward silence? Whatever it is he thinks is about to happen, it's not this.

He can't do anything but stare for several seconds, not really even seeing Sora as he tries and fails to process what the other boy is admitting to. Gradually, his eyes manage to focus, to properly meet the intensity in Sora's mirrored stare. Those strange pupils have always caught Masaomi's attention; now they serve as an excellent grounding tool.

Sora is definitely saying that he was in a gang and that someone he was keeping that from found out. He's not saying that he's a demigod or a witch or from another planet. He's saying something that sounds... well, too real to be real.

Masaomi's hand balls into a fist against the floor. His lips open, close, and open again before the his brain finally catches up. "So what did he say?"

Sora pulls a thoughtful frown. A lot of things, really. He's not about to air out an old friend's laundry, though. That conversation belongs to memory and his old phone in Locke City alone.

"He didn't really care about what I did. He still cared about me. He wanted me to be okay." His mouth smiles and his eyes do too. It's fond. A good memory, even if it's buried deep, deep in possibly some of the worst pain and loneliness he's ever experienced.

"I ended up turning up at his doorstep in the middle of the night after ignoring him for a month. I needed help." He shrugs lightly, but his eyes are back to being serious. "He let me in. I stayed the night."

Edited (phrasing) 2020-03-19 13:45 (UTC)

"Sounds like a pretty amazing guy."

Masaomi doesn't even notice the way he curls into himself, how he hugs his knees to his chest. He can almost imagine his friend Mikado doing that for him, hiding him away in his tiny one-room apartment while yellow-clad thugs prowl the streets. Of course, Mikado would do something like that, say something so altruistic. That attitude of his is something Masaomi has always admired and wanted to protect.

But that was before Masaomi dashed all of his expectations in one fell swoop. It's terrifying to wonder what Mikado may think of him now that he's dead and gone.

"Did you... Did you ever get out of there? The gang?"

"Yeah." He ended up staying with Kotetsu long term after he got kicked out of his own home. Honestly one of the best people he's ever met. He misses him every day.

Sora snorts a soft laugh through his nose. "Wasn't my choice, but yeah. I... got lucky, I guess. Maybe." He puts his face in his hand and rests his elbow on his knee, looking at the floor. "It was going down between another gang and my crew. It was going kind of bad. And I..." He thinks about it, blinks slowly at the floor. "Almost killed an entire alley of people. Both sides. I got a power that triggers when I get real messed up. Didn't know about it until then."

"You did get lucky." The words tumble out of his mouth before he even has a chance to second-guess them, both earnest and bitter. "You're the luckiest guy in the world. You survived."

For a while, at least.

Sora smiles, and it's big and splits his face in half and it's sad. "I did. My squad leader was taking care of me, she covered my tracks. She saved my life."

His smile fades, just by a bit. He never saw her again.

"Now I'm here to be your friend. It made a difference." He tilts his head. "Well, it makes a difference to me. How about you?"

Now that he's not quite so manic, Masaomi can't bring himself to smile with Sora, but he does nod. It's a hesitant, short-lived gesture, but it's visible. It's there.

"You're a pretty amazing guy too."

A silent sigh, and he shuts his eyes.

"Guess I just wish I'd had some of that luck for myself. Sorry."

Sora pauses. Masaomi keeps saying that. Luck. He doesn't have a death wish, but he doesn't see the appeal of living as long as he has. Not in the way he has. Is it luck if it grinds you down? Slowly? Over years?

That doesn't seem. Fair though. "If I could, I'd share my luck with you." He smiles weakly at the nod. "Like, thanks, I try for amazing, but I'm not. Really. Anyone." Hasn't been for a long time. "I bet you could do better. You saved your friend Mikado's life. That's amazing."

Masaomi really does have no idea what kind of life Sora has lived. He doesn't know how it feels. He only knows his own life, a short-lived mess of building up his friends and lovers, protecting and cherishing them the way no one had him, only to watch them fall by his hand anyway. It's not enough. He has so many people he wants to meet again, so many wrongs he wants to make right.

And now he'll never be able to achieve any of it.

"I was the reason he needed saving in the first place. I was an idiot who didn't even know who my friend was until after I declared war on him." He has to stop, force back the lump rising treacherously in his throat. "Until I took a fucking bullet because I was too blind to realize my own team was against me."

Several deep breaths later, as soon as he's certain he's not going to cry (Sora doesn't deserve that on top of everything else), he takes another shot at comprehensible speech.

"Saving Mikado? I owed him that much, after dragging him down with me. I'm just glad I didn't manage to screw that up too."

Sora's going to scoot a little closer, looking into Masaomi's face. Watchful. Not curious or pitying. Just careful. A little sad. Making sure to give him room to not cry, as one does. You're not getting away, Kida. Sora's been chasing people his entire life.

Five months, and he's lived with this. Sora still isn't sure what happened, but there was betrayal. There's friendship, definitely. Guilt. (There's always guilt. Never makes it less painful to watch.) It's heavy. It's all heavy.

"You really care about him," Sora says, soft. It's not a statement looking for an answer. It's something Sora's reflecting back. It's what he sees.

"He was my courage."

Masaomi does laugh then, though it's hollow. Was. Not because Mikado is gone but because Masaomi is. From where does a corpse find courage? Certainly not from the living.

"Not a single fighting bone in his body, but he'd stand up for me anyway, shivering the whole time." His fondness readily bleeds into his otherwise desolate tone. "I just wanted him to be happy."

Maybe, just maybe, he can be now.

Boy, does Sora have a few thoughts about that. Hey, Masaomi. As far as Sora's concerned, they're alive. (They can go over that later, though. The topic now is courage and happiness and friendship.)

Hoping for someone else's happiness. Sora wishes he remembers where he's heard that before. It feels like he should know what happened that him made that so important to him. It's like looking for a light already shining in a room with no bulbs, no lantern. Uneasy, mysterious, impossible. Comforting yet frightening. Which memory was it? Where is it? Why won't it come back?

He thinks he can guess what happened. If Mikado was the type to stand up like that in spite of his nature, of course that means he'd be the type to try to make something bigger. His heart was strong.

"But you don't know. And there's no way to find out. He isn't here." Sora closes his eyes, thinks for a moment, snapping pieces into place. "That's scary, not knowing. And it's embarrassing to be scared." To know that people know that you're not as strong as you want them to think you are. Sora understands that. He's always been uncertain. He doesn't know anything.

A snort as Masaomi buries his face in his knees. It hurts a lot more than he thought a few vague words could, but that's just proof of how true they are. They're sharp as an arrowhead, with a grip that's just as unforgiving.

This whole thing is pretty embarrassing, isn't it?

"That's not fair, man. When you say it like that... I can't say anything back."

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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