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

I grew. There was also 'pantywaist' which, less popular but still had that extra fun of being alliterative.

You know, I think I grew out of expecting magic to change my life when I realized Matilda wasn't a true-to-life account.

I'm out and about. I can swing by the library.

Really? Mathilda? I guess I'm still waiting for it work out in the end? Even though I really should know better by now. And that's really the whole, worst thing about getting everything you ever wanted, isn't it? When it's not good enough.

I'm the only one here, I should be easy to find.

I don't know. I've been pretty close to having everything I've ever wanted at times, and [ it was enough, but he couldn't stop worrying about when the other shoe would drop. couldn't and wouldn't stop imagining that it was all destined to end, which kind of begged the question: self-fulfilling prophecy, or nah? ] it was pretty good.

And I figure that if it's not enough, then it's probably not what you were after in the first place. It's just what you thought you wanted.

But yeesh, that sounds a little too self-help, right? Please promise you won't start calling me Dr. Phil.

Even if you weren't, it's not like we've got a whole load of Quentin lookalikes running around. So, save me a seat. I'll be there in twenty with your stone. Wrapped.

Okay, that's just a load of crap. All I ever wanted was magic. It was that secret door or that special letter, and I wanted to

I got my letter and I found the secret door, to magic and to Fillory and you know what? That wasn't just what I THOUGHT I wanted. I wanted it, more than anything. But more than that, I wanted friends. Real friends, and I got those too and it just

You're wrong, at least in the general sense. Maybe that's just how it works for you. Who even knows.

Good thinking on the wrapping, see you soon.

[ YIKES, QUENTIN.

he doesn't touch that reply because — where to start? it's not that peter doesn't have a habit of putting his foot in his mouth (he does), nor is it that he doesn't have a habit of digging peter parker shaped holes (he does that a lot, too), but that doesn't mean he necessarily thinks he's wrong in his assessment.

which means that whilst he doesn't reply, that doesn't mean he doesn't think about it. doesn't mean he doesn't take five-to-ten minutes to sit and think about how to respond before ultimately deciding that no, it's fine, he's going to the library to see quentin anyway.

what it does mean, as well, is that peter takes longer than his originally estimated twenty minutes. it means he wanders into the library, bag slung across one shoulder, opal wrapped in cloth somewhere at the bottom.

he pauses, just for a second, when he spots quentin, then— ] Hey, uh, sorry. [ is the greeting and the introduction, all in one, as one hand dives into the bag to fish out the stone.

(sex having books. and to think he thought he'd seen everything.) ]

[After the last message goes through, Quentin puts the tablet away and goes back to reading.

There's just nothing here. It's like someone or something went through all the books and just removed anything that might be even remotely helpful. He's still making notes, writing down questions that they need answer to and the few answers they already have.]

Oh, hey!

[ he places the stone, wrapped in what may have, once upon a time, been a distinctly unattractive plaid shirt — as it stands, it's now a somewhat roughly cut square of material, but it does the job. he slides the package — kinda — towards quentin. ]

This belongs to you, I think. [ he says, before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from quentin. part of him wants to ask quentin what he'll do with it, but the rest of him is torn between really, not wanting to know, and knowing that it's none of his business anyway.

in lieu of that question, he leans forward a little, attempting to read the spine of the book quentin had been reading and making notes from, before opting to just ask. ] What are you reading? [ it's a little louder than a whisper, more force of habit than anything else, given that it's just the two of them in the library. ]

EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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