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!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's a development, all right.]

What would you ask?

[She can think of no one like Valjean in her own life. Booker, perhaps, but even then, her initial reaction towards DeWitt would be disgust, not a desire to talk.]

. . . he may yet arrive. Or the prostitute. People seem to arrive in clusters from the same world.

( He considers the question for a moment, his head bowed in silent contemplation. He's no longer looking at the aurora, but at the way his hands fiddle with the handle of his lantern, broken in one spot. A piece of it had chipped off during his fall, but he doesn't pay any mind to that. Rosalind's statement leaves him whirling, and he glances back up at her, alarmed and bewildered. What prostitute? He can think of none notable enough to mention. )

Who are you talking about?

[She frowns back at him, more uncertain than displeased.]

The-- the woman. The one you arrested. You told me . . .

[Hmm. The uncertainty leaves her face, and now she looks at him carefully, watching him to see how he reacts.]

Her name was Fantine. She had fought with a man, and you'd come upon them. You assumed her guilty because of what she was, and tried to arrest her, but Valjean-- still the mayor at that point-- intervened. And then . . . I'm not certain how, I was more interested in you than them, but Valjean took her child after she died, and raised it as his own.

You've no memory of this?

( There's no recollection in his features, no understanding. The only thing that draws some sort of reaction out of him is the mention of the child, the one that was rumored to have been kidnapped. He remembers her, and he remembers going to Montfermeil to find out where she went. This was the prostitute's child? Surely, he would remember something such as that. )

No. ( He answers, and then, with a bit more surprise, ) Had I told you this? Why is it I cannot remember?

You did. You told me when we were seeing visions. She was the one who haunted you. I told you of Robert, of my death . . .

[Why can't he remember? There has to be a reason. He's not forgetful, and even if he was, this is something so enormous as to defy rational explanation. He hasn't hit his head recently, has he? Not beyond--]

Your lantern.

[She breathes it out. Stupid. Stupid, she'd thought to check him for physical injuries but she'd completely forgotten about his lantern, oh, good god--]

Let me see--

[She doesn't wait for a reply. Just reaches over him with all the familiarity they've come to accrue with one another, taking it in her hands, running her fingers over it as she studies it closely. There has to be a crack, a flaw, a--]

There. Look. It must have cracked when we escaped the courthouse.

( He remembers. Perhaps not the prostitute, but he remembers the hallucinations, the discussion they had of Robert, and her death. Javert doesn't so much as flinch as she takes his lantern in her hands, inspecting the antique surface for indentations. He, himself, had already discovered it weeks ago, though he never thought to mention it to her. )

I had noticed. ( He answers roughly, looking across at her. ) I did not think it worth making a fuss about.

( The lanterns may be their lives, or whatever remains of it, but Javert could not have imagined that such a small crack would be so harmful. Considering the alternative, the fact that it could have shattered completely, he got off lucky. )

Edited 2020-04-07 03:08 (UTC)

But I ought to have.

[Her mouth twists for a moment, and then:]

Tomorrow, I'd like to go over the broad strokes of your memory. Important events and people, dates, things like that. If I missed this, there's a chance I missed something else, too.

[A few seconds pass, and she adds:]

I should have noticed. And I'm sorry that I did not until now.

What did I say? You needn't fuss over me.

( Losing his memories are the least of his concerns. But if doing so will put Rosalind's mind at ease, then he will do it. There's little he wouldn't do for her sake, and such a thought frightens him. He cannot make himself sound overly irritated about it, but he does insist a little gruffly, )

You had other matters to concern yourself with. There is nothing to forgive.

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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