logsinthenight | Player Plot: Remember Me

Entry tags:

Player Plot: Remember Me

characters: Jason Grace & OPEN
location: (1) Harbor then (2) School
date/time: May 15 - 17
content: A small memorial event for those lost to the flood. Include a lantern/boat launch followed by a re-dedication of the Wall for the Remembered, now located in the school.
warnings: Likely discussions of loss/death ~~what is death to a dead thing~~

1. Harbor
A few days after his network post, Jason can be found down at the harbor. Those that were here in September will definitely recognize it as a very similar set up to what Rastus had going when they did the memorial service then. He doesn’t have glowing stones, but he did bring down two torches from the bonfire and has rigged up a kind of tiki torch situation to light up the area for crafting. He has plenty of paper to craft into lanterns and boats. He’s made a few for those that might struggle, but there are plenty of supplies if you want to take the time to craft your own. There’s also other basic craft supplies -- markers, scissors, tape, and the like -- for making the boats or lanterns more decorated or personalized.

Jason encourages anyone who shows up to mourn or celebrate in their own way. This is intended as a way to honor the dead and missing, but if you don’t want to launch a boat you don’t have to -- perhaps you have another ceremony in mind.

2. School
After several boats have been launched, Jason will pick up one of the torches he brought to the harbor and lead whoever is around to the school. In the end, this seemed like the more accessible of the two locations he had debated. Prior to the memorial, Jason had spent some time sprucing up one of the classrooms and relocating the remains of The Wall for the Remembered, pictures and names moved onto a newly painted tree -- very similar to the one that used to reside in Town Hall.

Inside the classroom, there is one table set up with paints if people want to add names of those they just launched boats for -- Jason didn’t feel like it was right to add them all himself. There is a second table with snacks -- provided by the cafeteria spirit -- so the snacks are mostly what one might find in a school lunch, but hey there are pretty decent cookies. He’s also brought two torches to stay at the school: one in the entrance and one in the memorial room itself -- probably placed somewhere to give the wall the best light.

Once everyone is gathered, Jason will hold up the torch that he led everyone here with and speak: “Thank you all for helping with this and coming today. I can’t say I knew everyone who appeared in the most recent obituary shared with us, so I can’t exactly say anything personal here -- but I know that each loss has had an impact on at least one person in this room.” He pauses, a kind of moment of silence though he doesn’t say as such. After a moment he speaks again, “I know that our future here may be uncertain, but it’s important to take the time to remember those who have helped us even get this far. Tomorrow we can think about the future, but for right now let’s focus on those who are no longer with us -- whoever that may be for you.” He lowers the torch and steps away to give people their privacy and watch over the proceedings.

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He becomes aware part of the way through that he has gained an audience, but carries on as if he hasn't noticed. He'd expected a few people might stop and listen, if only because singing isn't something he typically does, especially not where others might be around to hear. The fact that it's Pudding who listens and speaks up, of course, means it's probably not such a personal surprise, for they barely know each other, but rather that she is genuinely moved.

It's a little embarrassing all the same, but he hides that well enough as he turns and glances down at her before shrugging. "Ah... Thanks," he says as he casts his eyes back out over the lake, feeling even more awkward as he realizes she's not just moved but actually in tears. "It's not the sea, but it's as close as we're going to get here."

There are so many things Pudding wants to say. I know that song, she wants to burst, to explode with it, to tell this stranger that she's from the same place. Are you a Marine?, she wants to ask, because while there are certainly pirates who sing the same, she knows it's a military dirge, has heard it on recording and never in person. (But what if he is? She's a pirate.) There are things she can't put to words, sounds that die in her throat, and she can't - cannot - decided what's safe.

Does she even want him to know?

How much of her old self does she want to let flounder under the waves and disintegrate into dark foreign waters with her tiny, ink-smeared crane?

She shakes her head a little. She doesn't have to decide now. Right? Like Soldat said...

"I'm - where I come from," she starts, trying to find words that are enough but not too much. "My country is an archipelago. We're surrounded by ocean, and so much of our commerce and travel is by ship. I just - " Her tears well up enough to blur her vision, and she stops to wipe at them with the wrists of her sleeves. This is so much. "I can't even figure out what I'm trying to say."

When he looks down at her again, it's with a patient, sympathetic sort of frown, and a slow nod. Everyone has been through so much lately - the deaths, the destruction, all of it hit like one long rolling series of waves and he hasn't decided yet if they've actually retreated or if this is just another trough between peaks. Being here as long has he has, he's starting to suspect the latter is just always true any time things seem safe and quiet. They're just waiting to drown in the next crash.

"There's no hurry," he says initially, then continues, figuring the topic is a safe one. Better than worrying about the meaning of death here, and mourning the sudden loss of so many at once. "Lotta people here are from worlds where there's too much land, and too many people. It's a relief to meet another person who's used to the ocean being on all sides. A lake you can't even go out on safely just isn't the same."

Pudding nods almost frantically at that, at meeting another person who's used to being surrounded by water. "It's - the flood was so different." The words feel stupid on her tongue, but fuck, she's not used to being earnest and sad and scared. Well - not to feeling all of those things so enormously, so on the surface. "I've never been scared of water like that. And then this - with the portal in the lake - coming out of something so small and then sending our well-wishes back... It's just..." It makes her feel too big for the space and so much smaller than the ocean ever did, at the same time. A few more passes with her sleeves manage to get her eyes more or less dry, or at least no longer overflowed and streaming.

"Your song sounded like home."

She thinks that's safe to say. And fuck, she needs to say it.

Sounded like home, huh? He doesn't expect he should take this literally. He's been stuck here on his own amidst all these people from Earth (and a tiny, rare handful of others) for a long time. He has begun to accept that Earth must just be a place so full of people that the odds are always in its favor, or that the idea that alternate-Earths exist is a legitimate one and that by apparently standing on one version of that world, this portal draws in others with ease might have something to it.

But that's all right. He's interested now. An archipelago is still better than - where had Jo said she was from? Or Gregor? Big, vast places that take days and weeks to cross even when moving at high speeds by things like cars and trains. The very thought makes him feel uncomfortable. That much land feels too alien. He'd even rather think of the vast emptiness of space he saw in Will's memories. At least it has something in common with the sea.

"Nobody's ever told me something like that before here," he admits. "Where are you from? Your world, I mean."

If Earth has archipelagos, at least part of it might be okay.

Pudding hesitates. This would be a lie of a magnitude she's never told before. She's never had to lie about what planet, what universe she's from. It would be easy to just say Earth, because like Rosinante she's learned that there must be many different variations on the place, so who would doubt her? Earth must have islands somewhere. Or some version of it must! Who's to say?

But. She bites her lip, breaks eye contact. "That's..."

She doesn't want to lie anymore.

"It's kind of complicated."

Everything inside her head has gotten so fucking complicated.

That's even more interesting, given she's broadcasting every sign of not wanting to answer, and that's another thing he hasn't encountered before here. The only thing complicated about it is that for some reason, she doesn't want to say.

This isn't the time or place to grill someone, but it's something he'll certainly remember. For now, he shrugs as if it's no big deal. "Sorry. Hard to think about home so soon after arriving here," he says, allowing her that cover if she wants to take it. He can't be too hard on someone given the catastrophe they've just survived.

"Do you sing at all?"

She hears that cover for what it is. And it would be easy to take it, but - the fact that he offered it (and she can tell it's a conscious offer)... makes her not want to.

She doesn't know if she can trust him, exactly, but she knows he understands.

Her throat works audibly as she swallows, hands absently pulling a lock of hair from behind her shoulder for her to worry fingers through. (Isn't that an ancient as hell habit...) "It's more - there's a lot of... conflict. And I don't know if I'd want someone else from home to know, if they came here."

Not a lie at all. Misdirection, a little. But it feels... it feels good to tell the truth, even if the truth is cagey.

A long breath blows out without her even thinking about it. Tension, just melting off when she's not working her hands around a complex knot of ribbons and razor wire anymore. And with it, the weight on the back of her neck goes too, and it's easy to lift her head and make eye contact again.

"...Sometimes," she answers the second question more easily. "Mama likes me to sing older songs for her friends, but I'm... hm. I guess you could say we have different tastes." Mama prefers Pudding singing in her soft little doll persona, more parts of her act, more ways to seem darling and innocent and sweet. Pudding would much rather sing along with Soul King in her room, alone.

Never mind the offer of a change of topic, then. It seems she's willing to talk after all, if maybe a little carefully.

"Well, if you're not from Earth you're probably in good shape. That's where most people here seem like they come from. There's really only just a couple of us now who aren't."

And it seems safe to assume she's not from Earth, if she's nervous about even talking about which world she came from Earth has so many people that it must be easy to hide among all of them. Or that's the impression he gets, anyway, from the stories he hears here - and he does like hearing them.

He also certainly understands the feeling of being worried someone from home might show up and turn his own life chaotic in ways he's not comfortable with, but Rosinante figures he's set himself up to be pretty fortunate. Here, people know him as kind, respectable, and hard-working. He's a good, honest, loyal soldier who died fighting to save a kid's life. If someone showed up and it was his word against theirs, surely they would believe him, as it's all rooted mostly in truth and how could they know any different?

Pudding laughs softly, bringing up a hand to hide her open mouth. What a statement. What utterly strange luck, indeed - of course, Rosinante is right; the odds of coming from the same world, when that world isn't Earth, is so small. Yet, here they are.

"Well, there's Fjord and - "

She stops abruptly, all mirth and half the color falling out of her face, and ducks her head, feeling hideous inside more than out.

"I. I'm sorry. I didn't know Fjord's friend, and I don't know if you did. I shouldn't talk so casually about him here."

"It's all right," he says, though there's a heaviness to it. "People die here. No point in being ignorant of that."

It is sure as hell unpleasant, but so be it. In a way, he wonders if they somehow were left here for the decades the spirits have been around if they too would adopt that sentiment of death being meaningless. He'd like to think he never would become so callous, but he is not perfect.

"I've met others from other worlds, too. Most of them aren't here now. Doctor Ingram, though, he's from up in those stars somewhere. And Stone, he's from... I can't remember what his world is called, but it's full of people like him. Raksurans. Basically dragons."

Stone isn't here right now, so Stone can't correct him on the use of that word. Seems he's accepted it anyway. Big flying reptile? Dragon.

Pudding nods. "It's strange, so many people being from one Earth or another, and then a handful of us who've never heard of it... It's daunting to think about how far the portal can reach. And if it could pull in Fjord, and someone else not just from his world but who he knows dearly... I don't mind talking about where I'm from, really, but I don't think I feel safe putting a name on it. Does that make sense?"

"Sure," he says. "A lot of people here probably would do the same, if they weren't unfortunate enough to all be from the same world. Do what you need to do."

Mostly, it's pointless to argue. It's not like the name of a world would tell him anything in particular. The descriptions, the stories, those are the more interesting parts. It's exciting to hear about how much variety is out there among the stars. He'll never get to visit those worlds, but he can imagine them.

"Never mind the conflict and all that, then. What are the good parts? What do you miss?"

"The water," Pudding answers immediately, with a small, awkward laugh. Same thing as his song that moved her so deeply. "The sea. Knowing it's deep and vast and full of living things and possibilities. My best friends, Nitro and Rabiyan... They're not human at all, and they're small and always close by... it's a little lonely here." She bites her lip. "Food. Not for me, but enough food to feed everybody without waste or hunger. It's - it's not right, here, having this little, growing so little, not being able to hunt or fish. At home, there was always enough for everyone. My whole archipelago was set up with the idea of always having plenty, no matter how many people live there." Mama is Mama, but you can't say she doesn't provide food and shelter for everyone who lives in Totto Land.

Sounds nice. Food for everyone? She's fortunate to be from somewhere pretty well-off if that's the case. This place has to be one hell of a rude awakening to someone who's never faced starvation. Which isn't to say he resents her for it, of course not - it sounds like she's lived the sort of life everyone should have. That's why he and the other Marines ever worked as hard as they did, to try and ensure people could have that kind of stability in their lives.

"Anyone ever tell you what happens if you go fishing here?" he asks. As far as he's aware, he's still the only one to have actually tried.

Pudding blinks openly at the question, somewhat stunned.

"I never even thought about it. There's nothing here but spirits, right?"

"As far as I know, yeah. But it took us a while to be sure of that. Some of the spirits look pretty normal, right? Like the insects."

Okay, so the occasional moth might drift by with extra eyes or unusual markings or long tentacle legs, but for the most part, bugs look like bugs, birds look like birds, and so on. The animal spirits are spirits, but not too out of the ordinary and it would make sense for someone new to mistake them for actual animals.

Such was not the case when he went fishing.

"In the first couple months I was here, I figured I'd found out what was in the lake. We didn't have the bugs back yet, or the birds. Everything was pretty quiet. I thought maybe the lake had fish, though, or something. Baited a hook, waited, felt a pretty strong tug after a while. So I reeled it in. And, uh. Pulled out my own dead body, or so I thought."

Pudding listens intently, nodding softly at the explanation of the smaller spirits. That makes sense - notes with a little surprise that bugs and birds "came back," even as spirits, in stages. (Are larger animals on their way, perhaps?)

But a breath squeaks in her throat with the sharpness of her inhale, both hands clapping over her nose and mouth as her eyes go wide with horror.

Well. That would be a hell of a rude surprise.

"Oh my god," she breathes, pulling her hands down just a little after a few moments of half-focused staring. "What happened?"

Yeah, it's pretty awful and her reaction is exactly how he probably should have reacted, but instead he just stared at it while it stared back. A different kind of shock.

"Wasn't sure at first if I was hallucinating or not but a couple people came by to see it for themselves. It didn't move, but it watched me if I moved. Finally, the Grandmaster and I decided to haul it up and bury it, but before we really got a chance, it dissolved into seafoam and slid back into the lake."

A tame way of putting what happened, given "dissolving" involved "grinning so wide it split its own head open". He's seen a lot while being here but that's still one of the more grotesque events in his past year of un-life. He frowns at the recollection and shakes his head. Fucked up stuff.

Puddings stomach churns a little, the natural revulsion of a Devil Fruit User more than anything else.

"That's horrible," she breathes, folding her hands together against her collarbones. "I'm so sorry." She glances out at the waters, where the boats and lanterns are already starting to vanish into the dark. ...Kind of a horrible place to send them, isn't it? A lake more dangerous and full of ill omen than the sea...

...That's Beacon, she supposes. Somehow... she thinks it could still be worse than here.

"I don't suppose hunting would go a whole lot better, even if there were things big enough to hunt."

"Never seen anything other than spirits in the forest. Some might look like animals, but you're right - no point even trying."

Especially given his experiences with the green-eyed spirits and whatever they had been feeding them during that bout of torture. It had to have been spirit flesh, there's nothing else out here, and just remembering what happened is traumatic enough. Better to change the topic and quickly.

"Stick to what we can grow ourselves. I'm glad we have that greenhouse and people who know how to tend it."

"Oh - yes, me too!" Something more pleasant, something Pudding can help with. "I'm not much of a gardener, but I went to help look through what's there anyway, in case of edible things. Some of the herbs that just grow like weeds in there are useful for salves and medicines. And fruit is growing fast. We should be okay until we can find a way to get supplies coming in again." Should, might, fffff let's attempt to be positive. And ration hard.

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Player Plot: Remember Me

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