EVENT LOG: ALL THE TREES OF THE FIELD

[nextnightmods]

EVENT LOG:
ALL THE TREES OF THE FIELD

characters: everyone.
location: Bonfire Square
date/time: January 1-9
content: Items arrive, spirits set up some New Year's festivities, and a tree is decorated with the hopes, dreams, wishes and mementos of the people still remaining in Beacon.
warnings: n/a, mark threads as needed

if i am alive this time next year

The spirits do love their holidays, don't they? As before, they've adapted some traditions brought by past Beaconites to ring in the new year for you all. Here's hoping it helps lift spirits (pardon the pun) and brings some good luck for the challenges that lie ahead.

ITEM DELIVERY

Another portal delivery passes with items, but no new people. Thankfully, those who operate the portal have finally nailed the delivery requests. Unlike previous months in which things dropped out of the sky at unexpected intervals, or lay scattered around in trees and rooftops and the depths of the forest, everything requested arrives together, safely packaged, as a single organized shipment at the harbor. A bulky set of wooden pallets hold the following goods, all boxed and tied together with sturdy rope:

• The usual monthly supply restock of food, household supplies, standard clothing and tools. Everything seems well-made with fine materials and rich dyes: silk and linen and wool for the clothing, good hardwoods for handles and containers, and the food seems especially fresh, with a higher proportion than usual of seafood, dried seaweed, tropical fruits and an abundance of alcohol. There's even a modest supply of jewelry. Nice score, portal team!


• For Will Ingram: Six 5'x5' 1/8 inch thick lead sheets, at 175 lbs each. In a box on top of the lead sheeting is one oxy-acetylene torch kit with fuel. It seems in good shape, but of course, does not actually light when activated.


• For Cao Pi: a thick wool longcoat, scarf, a pair of black gloves and two pairs of knee-high black socks. Stay warm out there!

i heard from the hills

Were you eating off that plate? Not anymore! Spirits snatch ceramics and throw them to the ground, shattering them with a wild whoop and cheer (and if your plate is made of wood or metal and it doesn't break they look a little confused for a moment). Were you about to get dressed? Whoops, there goes your undies - or socks or shirt, they're not picky - as the spirits race off to one of their fellows, a large frog-like critter who swallows the clothing whole, mulls it over for a while, then spits it back out, now dyed a brilliant crimson. Thanks! It's much better like this now! Chase them down, ask your friends for help, or just commiserate with the other Beaconites around town as the new year brings new nonsense.

Amid all the chaos, a quintet of spirits so small their masks take up most of their bodies sits on a pile of apples. With shrill flutelike whistles, they beckon you to come eat an apple, then provide the core. They'll read your fortune for the new year! Want a joint fortune for two? Not a problem. Comment here and the spirits will tell you what your future holds!

and i heard from the trees

There's a lot of noise out by the lakeshore. A trio of spirits stands huddled on the ice, whacking at it with paws and beaks, but they seem to be getting nowhere. Maybe they could use some help? Since when was the ice this thick? It's awfully cold out, that's for certain. And if you do go out to help them, you might find yourself skating off by accident - better not hit those rocks, or slide out too far!

Meanwhile, right in the middle of Bonfire Square, beside the bonfire itself, stands a very tall spirit covered in moss and vines. Lush Green has in their many botanical limbs a young oak tree. They set it down onto the ground and concentrate, and the tree roots itself in place.

"Friends," they rumble, sounding like shaking leaves and groaning bark, "we will plant this tree under waters when full. You fill, bring your treasures, bring your wishes. Bring luck, bring light."

Will it work, or is it just a nice gesture? The same could be asked of all new year's traditions, probably. But bushy-tailed spirits bounce around handing out cards and pens for all to write their dreams and wishes and good thoughts on, and scurry up and down the tree, looking for directions on where to place the townspeople's offerings.

So, what is it that you wish for?

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Comments

Bucky/Soldat | OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Snow and Searching

Javert is missing. Javert left them handkerchiefs and then disappeared.

Soldat's routine goes to hell. Soldat doesn't show up for lunches half the time and never shows up to classes. (There's no one left to teach weapons to, anyway, and everyone knows as much spirit language as they do by now, practically, it's fine, it's fine.) All their free time is spent on wider and wider patrols, searching for lanterns.

Somebody come make them stop before they get hopelessly lost.


II. The Hills

Soldat lets the spirits take their plates. (Most of them are wood and metal now, after last year. Soldat learns well.) They watch impassively. They let them take their clothes, they don't even give a shit at this point. But when one grabs one of their handkerchiefs-- Javert's last gift-- they get chased with a gun and actual shouting: "Give it back! You fucking give that back right fucking now!"


III. Let's Make Things Worse Shall We

The apple fortune is... not great. Soldat is stricken by the idea of losing more people, and can be found lurking in the vicinity of pretty much everyone left in Beacon, staring hard at them like they're worried they're going to disappear. Safety because paramount. If they catch anyone going anywhere off the beaten path alone, suddenly they have a bodyguard. They're paranoid, and over-protective, and really kind of a wreck.

Feel free to describe an aura color for them to see, or I'll make one up for your character!


IV. Treasured Things

It seems so hopeless. But Soldat is in the habit of humoring spirits, so they write a couple wishes, and donate multiple origami shapes: a star for Javert, a frog for Sora, a fox for the long-absent Crowley, an owl for Owl Friend, a crane for Misty and a cat for Pudding. A home-designed creature that they hope looks kind of like the World Eater. They write their wishes inside the paper before they fold it. Return, happiness, love, safety, and peace. Freedom.

Watching the spirits climb about the tree to place them, they say heavily to whoever's watching with them, "It probably won't do anything."

Also, they help punch the ice with their handy metal arm whenever they're not keeping up their abbreviated daily routine or stalking people, because punching something feels good right now.

I with shades of III

[callada]

In contrast, the fortune Rosinante received with Law was... good? Mostly? But it left them both with an unfortunate side-effect, which currently he's suffering through. Looking a lot less tangible and a lot paler than usual, Rosinante could be easily mistaken for a very clumsy ghost. He is, meanwhile, entirely oblivious to the ring of soft pink-orange that outlines him - the only real color to his features at all.

The upside is that when he sees Soldat's lantern out much deeper than usual when out visiting the torch he left in the woods for Mary, and decides to go after him, the fall that immediately occurs doesn't even hurt. If he can't trip on things, how can he fall? It's a mystery. He groans all the same at his constant personal failure and stands, then calls out, "Soldat? You see something out there?"

[worthallthis]

Half-turning at the sound of the voice, actually more of a twitch and jump than a turn, Soldat stares, looking stricken. The first thought that crosses their mind is that it's happening already their friends are disappearing.

They scamper back towards where he fell, clearly alarmed. "Rosinante?"

[callada]

"Yeah," he confirms as he adjusts the shoulder strap of his bag after the fall. "It's me. I look weird, I know. Something those spirits did."

If Soldat wasn't so obviously on edge he'd demonstrate. Pass his hand through a tree or something. But he holds back on account of the situation.

"What are you doing all the way out here, though? Everything okay?"

[worthallthis]

Soldat doesn't look particularly reassured, but they don't try to touch him themselves, so that's something. "I. Sora's gone. Javert is gone. I'm looking for lanterns." They look away, twitchy and unhappy. "The spirits said I'd lose more. 'Know your fellows before they're lost'."

They don't know if it's true or not, but they're just panicky and miserable enough to take it at face value for now.

[callada]

"Javert?"

Eyes wide, his surprise is plainly evident. He'd heard of Sora's disappearance, sure, but Javert - that's new. And awful. The man had been a pillar of the whole town, whether he realized it or not. He was part of what kept them all organized and moving forward.

"Shit," he breathes, sagging a little. "How long ago did he go missing? You need help?"

[worthallthis]

"Last heard from him on Christmas. Left me a gift, and then just-- just. I don't know. Went off on one of his stupid trips to find something alone, probably, and now I can't find any sign of him and I've been looking for days--"

It's not often that Soldat's voice gets really emotional, but they have to cut themselves off because there's rising panic in their voice. (Come on, buddy. Panicking doesn't help. I know. I know.) They think for a moment of origami folds, but the one that comes to mind is the star they taught Javert, and-- and that doesn't help.

[callada]

Christmas... That sounds familiar, but he's not sure of the exact date. Still, several days ago at least, apparently. Hell. Too long.

"Hey... Hey. Take a breath," he urges, frowning as he holds out a hand, then digs in his pocket with the other for the pack of cigarettes and holds it out to Soldat. That's his go-to for when his nerves are threatening to get the better of him, after all. "I'll help you look, but you need to get your head on straight, first."

He does not expect they'll find anything, but hopefully in the process of talking he can at least get Soldat into a better spot mentally.

[worthallthis]

"I know. I. I'm sorry." They manage to get a rein on the awful hole of loss after a moment, mostly by burying it under the Soldier's iron control, and finally do reach out and slip out a cigarette, though they just kind of stare at it a long moment before remembering, right, got to light it. They swing their lantern around to open for a light. "Feel like my head hasn't been on straight. For weeks."

(No. Well....)

"Less straight than usual, anyway," they add, for both inner and outer conversationalists. It's not like anyone can really say their head is proper when they can literally argue with themselves.

WILDCARDIN

[shadowsran]

He can't skulk the town forever, however inclined he may be to try. And when he inevitably has to stumble in from a day's desperate searching, he'll be greeted with the sight of a Misty more concerned than irate, arms piled with blanket and towel. The former is pitched over and around his shoulders loosely, and the other pressed in a general dab to his hair.

It's snowing out there, Soldat.

"Sit."

[worthallthis]

They duck their head in a kind of weary obedience, letting her brush snow off, shutting their eyes a long moment before shuffling to the couch and dropping heavily onto it. At least they pull the blanket more firmly around them as they do, so they're at least mostly present.

The little ghost figurine comes bumping against their boot, but it's going to take them a minute to notice, much less rouse to pet it.

[shadowsran]

Another careful once-over follows, gentle brushes, before the towel is dropped over the arm of the couch. She kneels, scooping the ghost in one hand to deposit it on the cushion beside him. Gentle and persistent company to compliment her own.

"Talk about it." She says, with a certain finality. "Running around's not doing you any good. Shout, cry, start getting it out. I'm listening."

[worthallthis]

There's a moment where it looks like they're going to ignore the order, just stare in silent unhappiness at the floor. But finally, they say, voice small, "I didn't protect them. Any of them." Sora, Javert. Crowley, Aziraphale, Ellever, Daylight. Scarlett.

That's just the surface of it, of course. A starting point. Because: "They didn't let me."

[shadowsran]

Eventually she crouches, taking an impromptu seat on the floor. Even looking away, he's not going to avoid her.

"How do you mean?" She asks, because there's surely no physical force to protect them from - not that takes them for good, she thinks. Perhaps lantern malfunctions. Nothing that would be on him to prevent. But he thinks it, and deserves to explain it.

[worthallthis]

"Went out alone. Got hurt, got. Lost. If they'd let me help, they'd still be here. Could've. Could have brought them back. Can't even find their lanterns." That's Soldat's job: find lanterns to bring back to the lab to restore. And they've failed at that, too.

They don't even know for sure if Javert and Sora are actually dead. Without a lantern, without a spirit that answers to their names, there's no way to know. Which means Soldat has to keep looking. There's still hope. (Buddy. There isn't. There is, shut up Sarge.)

[shadowsran]

"You can't keep watch over everyone around every minute of every day." Not accusatory, but persistent. "It's just not possible, and it's not your fault that you can't be something omniscient."

It's a foundational point. One she will not bend on, and one any proceedings depend on him accepting or denying.

[worthallthis]

"There's. There's so few of us left," they say, with a little more emotion. A little more unhappiness. "I should be able to at least protect my. My people. You, him, Sora, Pudding." The people who share this house, surely they ought to be able to do that much. "Why didn't they just. Let me protect them. Why."

I

[flangirl]

The third time Soldat misses lunch, Pudding throws a soup together in a slow cooker, scribbles down the time it'll be ready on a card she leaves next to it on the counter. Bundles herself up, takes her lantern in one hand and one of the torches outside The Invincible's entrance in the other, and marches out along Soldat's usual path.

Once she's in the deeps of the path, losing sight of the bonfire and near the pawn shop, heading south, she starts calling.

"Soldat! Soldat, come home!" and, "I'm small and skinny and stupid enough to freeze to death trying to find you, you know!"

[worthallthis]

Soldat doesn't find her immediately, they're fairly far out from their usual patrol route, but when they do, they're hurrying towards her. "Pudding. Pudding, what're you doing out here," they say, sounding concerned, already slipping their coat off to drape around her. She must be freezing!

[flangirl]

"Looking for you, dummy," she responds easily. Her cheeks are pink, but she is fairly well-bundled, all fluff and scarves and too-big mittens and handmade earmuffs glued to a headband. The weather of the Grand Line is fickle, even in the fairly temperate clime of her home, and while she is getting chilly, she backs away from his coat. "No, you keep that on! Come back and eat."

[worthallthis]

"Okay, all right." To get her back inside, they'll do it. Even if she's neatly bundled, they still fret: she is very small, and this is very cold.

They hesitate a moment, but then shrug the coat back on. But they might hover a little closer than normal as they walk. They've been trying to get better with touch, but still aren't great at it.

[flangirl]

Pudding is completely okay with the hovering. In fact, she steps a smidge closer into that space, though she's careful to keep them just-apart. She's very good, from much practice, at judging Proximity To Boy, even if how she relates to Soldat is nothing like the usual.

"You might be Mr. Super Soldier, but it's still cold out here for you, too, you know?"

[worthallthis]

"I have multiple layers and a scarf," Soldat protests. "I'm Russian. I spent more time frozen than not frozen. I'm fine." And they can't stop looking. Javert is gone. Sora is gone. They just want the lanterns, even if they're too broken to fix-- they just want to know.

[flangirl]

Pudding blinks, glancing up at Soldat as she processes Russian. She's not sure, but from the tone and the explanation, it's probably like someone saying they're from the North Blue - somewhere it's more likely to be snowy and cold, at least. She snorts anyway.

"I have multiple layers too," she snips. "And I had the sense to make soup. Which you're gonna eat." She frowns, turning to look back at the path and squeeze her chin down into her scarf. "So that I don't have to come out here looking for your lantern, too."

[worthallthis]

Their stomach makes an embarrassing noise at the thought of food. Soldat looks briefly startled, flesh hand going to their middle. How long had they been out, since they ran out of snacks? (You didn't even bring snacks, you dumbass.) Frowning, they pat a couple pockets, but don't come up with anything.

Feeling stupid, and suddenly very tired, they say, "You. Wouldn't have had to. I'm not. I'm fine. Just looking."