logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER

characters: everyone.
location: Everywhere
date/time: March 15
content: The World Eater arrives.
warnings: probable violence, gore, death; mark threads as needed

Everyone here was brought to Beacon for this one reason: to try and find a way to strike back at the thing that threatens to end the world entirely. You've spent the entire time learning, preparing, and for many, making this dead world your home. You've made friends with each other but also with the forest spirits, you've discovered much of the town's past and have set out to ensure its future.

This is the moment that every decision, and every person, shall finally come together, or be lost forever.

i feel the weather change

At the missile silo, Weaver and those helping her have been busy for over a week straight hammering scrap metal into place, wiring the controls to the launch system, and running new cables from the silo to Solis' lab to get the place set back up onto the Beacon power grid - a feat possible only because several batteries were recovered from the power station some time ago. Disassembled drone pieces lie scattered for easy repurposing, and networked tablets allow easy network chatter between the silo and anyone at the Helix Station who has offered to observe from the lake.

In the distance, those around the missile silo begin to hear an eerie droning hum. Weaver's eyes go wide and her ears lay back against her head. "It's here," she says with a shudder, then quickly bounds over to the control system. "That's the sound that the lighthouse used for the reset. If I don't need you down here, get up top, and get ready to fight."

At ground level above, the snarls and warbled growls of spirits call back, but immediately, there's rapid movement in the trees and some of those calls are cut short with a gurgle. Masked figures with green eyes dart through the brush, giving the silo a wide berth as they move in to fight, but those who would be allies must be outnumbered as aggressive forest spirits, both green-eyed and otherwise, break through into the clearing and seek out the people of Beacon. Their many-eyed leader has been kept occupied, but these ones are still looking to pick off every creature with a lantern. It's time to stand and fight before they make it to those still below, who are preparing to aim and launch the largest bomb Weaver has ever built. If this wasn't difficult enough, the green-eyed spirits are up to their usual tricks - you may find yourself suddenly fighting someone who looks just like your best friend, or perhaps your own animated, dismembered body - a cruel vision of what might soon come to pass. They are fast, they are ruthless, and only with the effects of the potions will you be able to shake off these horrible visuals, so make good use of them.

i hear the river say your name

Those at Helix notice it first - the droning hum that had first been noticed as a minor vibration in the hull swells in volume until it can be heard throughout the station. Thanks to the tablet network, they hear when those at the silo do that the sound is the speech of the World Eater - and it must be very, very close.

Inside the station there's little means to act directly against it; however, you'll find yourselves plenty occupied anyway. The little spirits (and the large corpse-wearer, shrouded in decaying bodies) that had previously been docile and had tucked themselves into hidden corners in the station scurry boldly out of hiding, with teeth and claws at the ready to devour and dismember anyone they find. And proximity to the World Eater once again has its effects - you may feel nauseous, disoriented, or despairing; you may find that it's hard to breathe, that your fingernails fall off their digits, or that sabotaging your fellows is the only way to survive. The potions help substantially, even if the effects aren't completely removed, so drink up, stand your ground, and keep an eye on those tablets to help let those at the silo know when to fire, and if they've succeeded.

Because eventually the creature itself is visible against the night sky over the lake, a void in the place where stars should be, and that means it's close enough to be targeted.

i watch the birds fly by

Soon, Beacon Square and the harbor as well as the general reaches of town become a dangerous place to be, but perhaps you feel you need to brave the run - to get supplies, to check on your friends, to flee and hide as spirits emerge to do the World Eater's bidding. There aren't many, thankfully - for those who care commanded by the many-eyed spirit are busy fighting those at the silo and the green-eyed allies, and nearly every friendly spirit seems to have gone missing. But alone and in the open without anyone to back you up if you need help is a frightening prospect, made even worse when you see the distant figure silhouetted over the lake, vastly taller than anything else you've seen since arriving.

The disruption from all the fighting must have delayed the launch, or perhaps something else went wrong. Just looking at the World Eater from a distance creates a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as it takes one long stride after another, drawing nearer to the town and singing that eerie song that drives the spirits to hunt you and to destroy everything you've built.

And then, suddenly, you hear something else. A counter-drone, a song like birds, like cicadas, like howling wolves and the strange whistle-warbles of the spirits, all merging into one. It's sung from every tree all around, and it drowns out that jarring hum of death.

The spirits so bent on drawing blood and viscera slow, and listen.

The World Eater slows, one foot raised into the air, then swings its head, seeking the source and finding it everywhere. And that's when it happens.

At the missile silo, Weaver has been successfully defended, but just barely. One of the spirits got to her before it could be killed, and a horrible gash has ripped through her clothing and the fur of her back. Her lantern is flickering desperately when she presses the button, and the makeshift missile roars and arcs into the sky.

From the square or the lakeshore, or for those watching monitors at Helix, the streak of vapor from the bomb's tail vanishes somewhere high above. And then moments later, it drops - landing not on the World Eater, but into the lake at its feet.

Rather than a blinding light, the tablet monitors go fully black as an intense roar and rush of water fills the audio channel, and the Helix Station shakes horribly, creaking and groaning as the rush of water from elsewhere in the lake strains every element of its construction. The noise and the confusing darkness persist for several minutes. It feels much longer.

But eventually, the darkness diminishes as stars shine through the mist and ongoing falling rain. There's still a tall column of water vapor in the air over the lake - it stays for nearly half an hour, slowly dissipating as powerful waves smash into the shore, triggering a small series of tsunamis that swallow the harbor and threaten, but never fully inundate, Bonfire Square.

The towering void has buckled where it stood, and only a few pitch-black spines jut out from the surface of the lake before they are slowly swallowed by its returning waters.

i see an emerald in the sky

When the spirits stop singing, the rain persists. Clouds billow up into the sky over the lake, and fall back down. The droplets are warm - warmer than the frigid air, than the ice and snow that surrounds the town.

The damage has been limited - most of the buildings still stand, for there were too few spirits that sought to attack, and those that did now sit in place or pace around curiously as if they hadn't just tried to tear out your intestines and dismantle The Invincible - which, actually, hasn't even seen a single scratch, as suits its optimistic name.

Many of Beacon's people may be injured, and many may be dead. But those whose lanterns still burn bright now find themselves in a slowly thawing world, as the deep and endless winter seems ready to launch into a new spring. Cautious and curious, spirits watch from the trees, then point out at the lake and chitter with excitement.

There is light in the water. It funnels upward from the foam left by the bomb, and with each ever-gentler wave, it touches the shore. And in a few tiny patches of sand, sheltered between rocks, green grasses begin to sprout.

QUICKNAV
comms	\|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	\|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This is what Rosinante gets for growing up under the care of an admiral, he realizes. It's not the first time he's had this revelation, but it's one of the most striking, when he hears that tired resignation in Soldat's voice. His and Sengoku's relationship was never the perfect father-son model other kids had, because Sengoku's first priority was always work, and it had to be. He had an entire world to shepherd along with only a handful of others. Rosinante took that to heart.

So after a moment of quiet reflection, he tries something else.

"It can wait," he says. "We fought hard to earn this victory. Maybe we should celebrate it for a while. We're all going to break before we can enjoy the results otherwise."

Maybe he'll even try his hand at organizing a small party with those who are left. Maybe set up a thank you for the spirits, who always tried to cheer them up with feasts and festivals - maybe it can go the other way for once.

Soldat should, honestly, be more used to going from battle to battle with nothing in between but electricity and cryofreeze... but it's been a long, long seventy years of fighting. And the uncertain future feels murkier and more tiring than the certainty of maintenance ever did.

Rosinante's change in direction is both a relief and something of an embarrassment. Being considered not up to a new mission is like a personal failing... but god, the idea of a break sounds nice. If just for a few days. Their smile is distinctly lop-sided. "Might have to ask around for how one really. Celebrates. A thing like this."

He laughs a little, relieved himself that the suggestion was taken well. The very idea is a relief, now that he's said it. They could all use some time to reset.

"Where I'm from it mostly involves a lot of drinking, food, dancing, and singing," he says, a fond smile settling onto his face. "That's something everyone agreed on, no matter what side of the law you fell on. When life is hard, you might as well live the good parts to the fullest, right?"

"Well. Most of that we can probably manage." They dredge up a little smile to accompany: "I've been teaching a few people how to dance right, even." They dish themselves out a bowl of stew, too, at the Pit's whiny prodding. "Just tell me when. Once. Once Pudding's back." Her lantern is at the lab; all they can do now is wait for the team there to put her back together. "Our little house'll get something together for it." Between Soldat, Pudding, and Misty, they could really make a good spread, they're sure of it.

"Yeah. I wouldn't want her to miss out on the chance to cook for everyone. With it warming back up, and if that light keeps coming back... Maybe we ought to do this outside. I wonder if I can drag that jukebox out."

It's big and heavy but hell, between him and Soldat they can probably manage it. He takes a more cautious bite of the stew, this time finding it a better temperature.

"I can go ahead and get some special stuff ordered through the portal, if you can think of anything you'd want, or that Pudding might want. Or - you know, we have some giant fish back where I'm from. Imagine a centerpiece bigger than the bonfire itself! That's the sort of thing we need," he says, grinning. For the first time in a long time, he misses home, just a tiny bit. Despite not wanting to go back, he misses the sea, he misses the food, and some of the customs. A giant barbecued fish just feels right for a big party. Maybe the people from Earth wouldn't agree, though.

"Rosinante. I have all the music from the jukebox on my tablet. And then some." No need to haul anything. They might need to convince the bird spirit in the tech shop to part with some speakers, but they're pretty sure that won't be too hard. "I'll have to look for a recipe book or something, though. I don't really remember any food except stuff from here."

Funny, this planning isn't exhausting. This planning is easy. Probably because it's a small goal, things they're used to planning for. "Won't say no to your fish, though. I'll figure out a sauce."

"Right, the tablets!"

He's done so well to stay on top of the technology here but there's always more to learn. He has a hard time imagining the tablet audio being loud enough to carry over the voices of a party, but Soldat must have something in mind with how matter-of-factly they state it.

So he'll let Soldat sort that out. Besides, he's happy to daydream about an immense seafood entree.

"I guess first step is getting the bonfire back into the square. I can start getting all those torches back here, since I'll need to go talk to Weaver about getting that fish through the portal anyway. And maybe I can get some cookbooks from home, too." Pudding would probably enjoy just seeing them, even if she's already an excellent cook. The little familiar touches like that are just nice.

They think a moment over a few bites of their own soup. "Okay. Okay, it's decided then. A part with a big fish. I'll. Talk to some of the spirits. See what I can get us for my tablet. And maybe decorations." They're not letting the spirits handle the food, but they know spirits enjoy decorating.

Then they pause, have another bite, and admit, "Tomorrow. Walking should be easier by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agrees with a nod, then holds his right hand up, moving his fingers stiffly. The sleeve slips down a bit, which makes the extent of the bandages more obvious.

"Tomorrow I can help with rearranging stuff. Those potions and whatever else Pudding and Kuai came up with are pretty great, I gotta say." He flexes his sore wrist experimentally, then has another bite of the stew, grateful he can at least grab onto the spoon with only a dull throb of pain.

Soldat makes a little bit of a face. "I haven't tried them. I heal faster anyway, and I." Didn't think of it, honestly. No one had shoved one at them, and they don't usually seek out medical attention. "Maybe I should. If it'll get me functional faster."

"There's plenty to go around, and like you say, it'll get everyone back to normal faster to just use the stuff."

And while he's a very patient person when patience is key, why not be ready to step back into action sooner? Sitting around and waiting to heal up when you want to keep busy just makes him frustrated.

"I've gotta thank those two for putting them together. They saved lives with those potions and medicines."

Well, and there's not very many of them left, and if everyone left has already taken what they need... Soldat might as well. If it even works given their metabolism-- it can't hurt to try, really. And then they can get back to patrols sooner. "Guess I'd better find some. Where did we stash the extras?"

"I left some with Law, just ask and he'll give you some. Or ask Pudding," he says with a shrug. "She'd know where all the rest are. Maybe check the kitchen storage?"

Which is not where he'd normally expect to put magical herbal healing potions, but she has all kinds of stuff in there as far as he's seen, so maybe it's just her own weird experiment room now.

Before long, he's finished the bowl of stew. He was hungry, and what can he say, his mouth fits more at once than most people here. He nudges the bowl aside, then lights a cigarette.

"Whole new world ahead of us now. I'm thinking I might get that sailboat out now that the ice is starting to melt. Want to help?"

Pudding's lantern hasn't been repaired yet, so... Soldat will check the kitchen storage and try to find Law, if there's nothing there. They're still working on their bowl, but eye the cigarette with the usual vague interest a moment between bites. "Probably a good idea. Might need to get across the lake sometime."

They chew on a bite of well-marinated beef from the stew. "If the world comes back to life. Will there be fish? Or do we need to steal some to. Repopulate?"

He catches that glance, and has no problem holding out the pack for Soldat to take one. He's running a little low on his supply, but reordering is simple enough.

Beyond just the ice melting, the boat will have to wait for the lake to become safe enough, but hopefully the little glimmer of light in the water means whatever those awful things that ate his last little craft (and him) will be hesitant to come close enough to the surface to contact it. Spirits and light don't seem to mix well, at least sometimes. Lots to think on.

Including, apparently, fishing stocks. He frowns. "I guess we'll have to wait and see. If they don't come back, maybe eventually we can get some through the portal if there gets to be enough light here for things not to just die."

Like his poor, poor snail did when he first showed up here.

They do love you sometimes, Rosi. Soldat slips one out, setting it to one side to light once they're done eating. "Someone will have to stay long enough to help with that," they point out. "To see. And then to research what to steal."

And it can't be them. Even if they stay (they probably will, that much isn't really in question, unless Misty somehow decides to move on), the idea of doing something that important themselves seems... wrong. So they finish lamely, "I don't. Know what everyone's doing."

"I don't either. It's personal decisions, I figure. I'd like to stay for a while here, learn from this place since it's all we really know we have, and the portals are here. Law's in no hurry to go anywhere else. Will... we've talked about it a little, but not in any serious way. I don't think he was ready to believe we'd pull it off."

And now that talk is due, once Will is feeling well enough. Does he want to leave right away, or can they both agree there are still important things to do here? He frowns around his cigarette, uncertain and yet unable to do anything but wait until he hears Will is feeling up to having company after that injury he took.

"I don't know about anyone else. It's up to them to decide for themselves."

Soldat finishes their stew up and picks up the unlit cigarette, rolling it between flesh fingers and staring at it a moment. "I don't really. Got anywhere else to go," they admit finally. "There's nothing for me back where I come from."

Which is, they suppose, at least one decision there. But it's not a final one. Do they stay in Beacon? Do they go to some other world with someone else? What's Misty going to do? Even if Misty stays, but she's the only one, will that be-- all right? Can they handle not having a dozen people and several dozen spirits to visit, to protect?

"I wonder how easy it will be to arrange to go back and forth. If Law and I go somewhere with Will, I'd like to keep the option open to return here. We could use this as a sort of... base of operations. There's a lot that's useful here. We might even be able to use your help."

There's a lot of speculation in all that. But he likes it in concept, because despite his home being worlds apart from this one, Beacon has a comforting familiarity to it now. And yet it's no place for someone to be stuck on their own if everyone decides to leave. Like Rosinante, Soldat ultimately needs people. They're both good at being alone, but that doesn't mean they should have to be.

Soldat's not even sure they're good at being alone, anymore. Empty buildings that should have people in them aren't-- right. They can't sleep in an empty house. They can't cook just for one. Not anymore. They'll go insane, literally, worse than they already are.

The idea of someone leaving but coming back is. Relief. It's relief. Even if Rosinante leaves, maybe they can stay in contact, at least. They jump on it. "A schedule for visits. Some means of keeping communication open between worlds. Targeting coordinates. We can talk to Weaver. See if she has ideas."

"Yeah. I bet she will. Might take her and Will a while to figure out all the details. I'll just have to hold him down if he tries to run off first."

Which, the idea of that makes him grin again. It's so nice to just be allowed to be happy. The challenges that lie ahead are ones they can face, now.

"And you'll have Clara around too, right? Kuai told me he was trying to help her understand ethics." He's being good, he's not going to snicker, but the way his eyes squint at the corners with his widening smile suggests he probably wants to. "She sounds like a tough student."

Soldat snorts a bit. A robot isn't the same, but they suppose she's better than nothing. And there might still be Misty. They don't know what she'll want to do. "Maybe I'll join the lessons. Pretty sure I don't have any more of a clue about ethics than Clara does." (Hey. What? I don't. I only have. Leftovers, I think. And what people here have taught me. Still not nothin'.)

Is that a joke? Dry humor? It's sometimes hard to know with Soldat, even now - for Rosinante knows they have more than a few things in common, occasionally including self-deprecation.

He considers for a moment, then shrugs. "You know, I bet he'd be happy to hear you asking him for some advice. Kuai's probably the most honest, and honorable, person I know. For what it's worth, though, I think you know more than you realize."

"Maybe. But I don't really know how much is left over from HYDRA, or from the war, or from before." They shake their head, apparently at least mostly serious here. "Maybe someone telling me about their understanding of ethics would help me sort it out."

"Well... I suppose I also don't mind, if you're actually interested," he says, a little bit sheepish at even offering. "I think my and Kuai's viewpoints probably have some differences, but nothing extreme. Where I'm from, or at least, in the Marines, we're taught to hold justice as our core value but people all have different interpretations of what that means. Some get deep into philosophical debates, but the rest of us find our own way to pursue it."

This is not something he had expected to talk much about anymore, so long after having left that life behind. He still thinks about it though, daily. But boring Law with Marine philosophy isn't something he wants to do, and he already knows Will has some core beliefs that are deeply different from his and so the two people he's around the most don't seem like great candidates for discussing morality.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

omg right pudding.. wow I blanked hard

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject