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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"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."

Sora's never been one to fling guesses at people. Or at least, he tries not to. (Vanitas during January? Definitely a mistake. Hard to help a person when they won't open their heart.) Masaomi was being honest, so Sora simply returned the favor. He wishes it didn't have to hurt. Important things do, though.

Sora pulls a little boxy grin. "You can punch me, if you want. That's what bad kids like you and me do when they don't wanna talk about stuff, right? 'Cause it's scary." And Sora really does mean it, even though he's not bracing for it.

He snorts, shakes his head against his knees.

"If I punched you over something like this, Jason would punch me. That guy hits hard, man." He's also a flying demigod with a heart of gold and heroism in his veins. The last thing Masaomi wants to do is disappoint the guy. He takes a deep if shaky breath.

"...See anything expensive-looking in here?"

Sora scrunches his nose. He's got that right, but when did Masaomi get into a fistfight with Jason? Stuff to ask about."

Here, huh. Sora thinks he knows what he's asking for and why, and he pauses, thinking about it.

"Nah. Everything here is, you know, convenience store stuff." Sora leans back and hums. "I got some stuff that we could trade at the thrift shop. Maybe they have like some real nice china in there or something."

He sighs. Make Sora trade something of his so that Masaomi can shatter a set of expensive china? He's not doing that, certainly not after their depressing game of show and tell.

"Forget it." One joint at a time, he unfolds himself from his fetal position, rises to his feet. "Let's just hit the gym."

A beat, as he realizes he might be assuming too much.

"If you want."

Oh, no, Sora gets that, if he's reading Masaomi right. He unbundles the sweater from his lap and gets up himself, turning away from Masaomi and shaking it out. Man, why is this thing so big? Must be a get-along sweater or something.

"Yeah. Let's go." Sora grins. There's a lot to do at the gym, and Sora's pretty comfy with lots of it. (Bro, does Masaomi lift?) "Maybe they have a punching bag. I haven't checked yet."

Masaomi doesn't remember any traditional punching bags strung up in the building, but he's sure they've put together some make-shift version by now at least. Wanting to beat the stuffing out of something cannot be a rare feeling around these parts.

"Even if they don't, they have swords." An old weapon nobody cares about and a tree make pretty great companions during these trying times. "That's close enough."

He glances at the sweater as Sora airs it out. It really had been a funny sight - the thick, mustard yellow fabric draped over Sora's shoulders like a hideous mockery of the boyfriend shirt. He gestures toward the sweatshirt as he passes Sora on the way out.

"You should keep it. Throw in a pair of nerd glasses, and you could be the world's loudest librarian."

Swords, huh. Sora wonders if Masaomi's got any tricks up his sleeve. He oughta ask when they get there.

Well, he's about to ask now, rolling up the sweater in his arms (hey, he knows how to fold his clothes, but that takes time, okay), but Masaomi has the gall to pick on him and in under a second Sora's ready to go. He whirls on him, hands still trapped in his sweater. Man, he'll fight!

"I'm not that loud," Sora says loudly, trailing behind Masaomi. "Hey! I can't be a librarian! I don't like books!"

Masaomi is more intimately versed with crowbars and pipes and nail pullers than genuine battle weapons. A middle schooler on the streets of Tokyo has to make due with what he can find or legally buy. But Jason’s given him a few blade lessons during his time in Beacon. He’ll happily share Jason’s disarming trick with Sora anytime.

“Hey, plenty of people who hate kids still become teachers,” he counters with mock seriousness. “It all comes down to how spiteful you are. If you hate books so much, just put your all into making everyone want to leave.”

Crowbars and pipes and the odd bike chain. A switchblade, if you're fancy. Yeah, he feels that. (He'd really like that disarming lesson! A baseball bat isn't a blade, after all. Swords require finesse or something.)

Sora opens his mouth and almost says something a split second before realizing that he misunderstood the analogy. Nothing for Masaomi to reply to, he just looks a bit sillier than usual. He grumbles instead. "Nothing against books. Books are fine. It's me, not them. Wouldn't wanna scare anyone off from reading them if they really wanted to."

He pauses, rolling his shoulders back from his sulk and thinking about it seriously. Sora knows that he doesn't want to be a librarian, but he doesn't know what he'd want to be except... not a librarian. Or a police intern, which he'd done for a couple of years before coming here. Definitely not that. "I always wonder why people who hate kids become teachers. Like, I know money's a thing, but is it really that bad out there?"

"Job security," is Masaomi's mockery of a solemn reply. "For all the crotchety sad sacks who couldn't say no to their nagging mommies when they were scolded to give up their dreams for a government paycheck!"

"Masaomi, you may be a, a custard pudding? Or something," Sora adds. He'll find the rhythm for that phrase at some point. "But I lost you right after the job security thing." Like, wasn't that the important part anyway?

Not even Masaomi expects the raucous snort that bursts from his lips. Sora's reply is so disjointed, so unrelated, so ridiculous that there is no room for sulking left in Masaomi's brain. He just laughs.

"What does pudding have to do with job security?"

"That was the thing you said earlier! With the sweater, and how it was too big. It was a joke," Sora adds, hoping that explains things. (It doesn't, but boy was that a try!)

"That was you! It was a funny thing about you! I still don't get anything you just said, Masaomi," he ends, embarrassed by how badly this all fell apart. Laugh away, Masaomi, he isn't making much sense to himself either.

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EVENT LOG: THE NIGHT WE MET

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