logsinthenight | That One With the Meeting [OPEN]

characters: Cao Pi and OPEN!!!
location: the town hall
date/time: appx moonrise Sept. 2, for a couple of hours
content: Cao Pi proposed a meeting for everyone to talk about what ideas they have for organizing, protecting the town, and safely exploring their confines. This is that meeting. Newcomers are welcome as well! Assume characters have heard about it through the grapevine, but especially on Sept. 1 as Cao Pi makes the rounds and tells people this is happening. He will have a moment to orate but after that the floor is open, threadjacking is encouraged, and whatever comes of this is a complete free-for-all!
warnings: probably some discussion of character death. lmk if I need to edit this.

Despite the fact that Will Ingram's messages providing further information were yet to come, Cao Pi had made a public promise and he would hold himself to it, carrying out his meeting as described. At moonrise on the 2nd, he is already present in the town hall, hoping to see not just those who told him they would be there, but also some of the unfortunate newcomers freshly thrown into this situation. He had done his best to prowl around the Invincible and the bonfire, mentioning that the meeting would happen, but he still had to rely on word of mouth to do its work.

When he decides there are enough people present to begin, the Lord of Wei steps up before the assembly, clearing his throat importantly. "For better or worse," he begins, "we are a community. A town, if we are not a country. The hints and cryptic comments from the Lighthouse Keeper have suggested that we have a job to do, but we're still waiting on information as to what it is and why - why us, why the dead stolen from their worlds or their respective afterlives. But the recent mission to connect the Keeper to the network our tablets can access has shown a number of weaknesses that may hamper our ability to do any job, let alone the one which will keep us all from being permanently obliterated." Is that harsh? Too bad. He doesn't care. "We know a few things for certain. One, that we must carry out the purpose which the Keeper understands and encourages. Two, if we fail in any way, she will kill us all by ordering the spirits to destroy us. Three, the spirits deep in the forest are not just her weapon against us, but they have their own will and may attack or destroy anyone who simply wanders out too far. Our explorations have uncovered a number of things but not everything, by far. If you are new or simply haven't kept up on the recent developments, the record is here." He holds out a hand to the logbooks kept there in the town hall.

"I've asked you here to discuss the issues facing us in Beacon, and to offer up any ideas for how to solve those issues. There are quite a few of them, some that even I, perhaps, haven't considered yet. Please be orderly and take your turns, but I should like to hear from everyone. Whether you have questions, or have an idea you wish to share, please. Speak up. We will all be better for the sharing of ideas and discussion of pros and cons, rather than just waiting and hoping that someone will take charge and give us orders."

With that, he steps aside, inviting anyone and everyone to come up and speak. Or simply rise from their seat and speak. The floor is open, Beacon, use it to say things that you might not want anyone connected to the network to overhear. Sass the Keeper, gush about the Postmaster, whatever you want. Hopefully by the end of it all, someone might have some plans that can be brought about. For his part, Cao Pi is not putting himself up as any sort of authority or the one actually in charge, he literally is only there as organizer and moderator and nothing else. At least, so his cool half-smirk and perfect manners would suggest...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Winters? He--uhm, he was on the list on people who. Died? In the news letter?

[Which would explain so much, if the leader died and recently but still. Nothing was really being decided. No leadership. No common goal or committee to make one. Nothing.

Scowling down in to his tablet and making more notes about things that someone, anyone needed to take a look at - why was there no map of this place? Why was there no central list of everyone here and what they might bring to the table? No one who would welcome new people like him and that only made sure that everyone got different information about this place, and maybe not all of it was all that accurate.]

I talked to a guy on the network? He said no one really trusts each other here. But, uhm, we don't actually have to? All we have to do is work together? Agree on what we want from this place and work-- and work on getting there?

[ she didn't really know winters as well as the others, but she knows that he's been a lot of help to the residents. still, davina can tell what he's thinking about—it's not at all surprising, but of course, she can understand why he's concerned. she herself has trust issues brought about by the way she died; and being stuck in an afterlife with complete strangers, it's not exactly helpful. ]

We're not exactly sure what we want from this place, either. [ now that kol is here, what she wants is to get him back to world of the living. the others, she's not entirely sure if they have similar sentiments. ] Safety, maybe? [ but they're sort of safe, aren't they? ] Or perhaps a general understanding of what's going on.

[ like their life in this place—it doesn't make sense to a witch like her. ]

We? Is that, like, the royal 'we'?

[Quentin looks up again, looking her over, and she's still very, very pretty. Dark hair cascading down her back and wide, pretty eyes. And suddenly he misses Julia fiercely. She would have known how to whip all of these people in to shape, with her kindness and a swift kick in the ass, if she needed to. She never did to a whole lot.

Licking his lips, Quentin quirks an eyebrow and shrugs.] Not that it matters much here, though, does it? My friend Eliot- [he stops to nod his head at Eliot, standing tall in the middle of the room, talking loudly.] was a king once. [Aaand back to business.] Well, we're trying not to die again? So, there's that going on. But. Why isn't anyone asking the real questions? Why isn't anyone asking about our... [side eyeing her a little before he goes on] magic. Or powers. Several people have them.

[ that's a weird question, isn't it? after all, davina is simply referring to a general "we", a handful of individuals who also have no idea how to deal with this place. but then, it sort of makes sense when he follows up about his friend, her gaze flickering at the loud guy trying to rope everyone in—a king. right.

like he said, not that it matters in this place.

his next remark piques her curiosity though, an eyebrow lifting. ] Magic, [ she repeats it in the same tone as he's said the word. ] Or powers. [ and he's said "our", meaning that he's capable of using it too, right? ] I'm guessing you mean using it for the town's protection?

Yeah, protection and to search the forest? I mean, sure, it's possible to set up wards and keep dangerous things out, or- uh, there are shields for immediate danger.

[And he's just saying way too much to someone he doesn't know and didn't that Ambrose guy say that it wasn't a good idea to trust people here too much? It's been one paranoid conversation after another and Quentin, who likes cloaks and daggers as much as the next person, is getting so tired of it.]

Most of what we do is, not really that useful? Here. Or, it takes more power than we could safe generate for now. But. Yeah. Protection. And exploration. And you? Can you-- do stuff?

[Lame, Coldwater and he hunches in to the seat. Fuck it, he wants to know and really, stuff it's the worst thing to call it.]

[ davina looks back at the ongoing talk before them, pretending she doesn't notice how he sinks lower in his seat, seemingly embarrassed by the question.

there's no point in hiding her own powers, tbh. not when she's already used it in the open, especially during the incident with the forest spirits. but there are still a few things that she hides from most of the residents of the beacon, including how the auditorium is completely warded, at least against most creatures she's familiar with.

she pulls a bottle of salt from her bag and creates a little circle on the floor, muttering a quiet spell. if quentin is observing what she's doing, he'll see a tiny spirit cross the circle's threshold but is unable to get out. a little boundary spell to demonstrate the answer to his question. ]

[He is watching, because there's really not much else going on but people arguing about where to start and not actually doing anything and also, because she really is very pretty, and watching her takes his mind off of other things. Like missing home and that hard truth sitting in the pit of his stomach about being dead.

So, Quentin watches her pour salt, watches her lips move almost soundlessly and watches the small creature trying and failing to get out. He quirks an eyebrow and gives Davina a crocked smile when she's done.]

Magic?

[And smiling like a kid with a secret, Quentin moves his fingers through a series of quick tuts, twisting his pinky fingers around each other before shoving his hand out. There'a shower of sparks, dull and barely giving off light but it's multicolored and looks like tiny bursts of fireworks just above the palm of his hand.]

Magic.

[ his is a different kind of magic, davina thinks as she watches the hand gestures, the shower of sparks that glitter despite the dimness of the room. a bit more fanciful, but magic nonetheless, tendrils of power pricking her skin gently. he doesn't seem like a witch, however; perhaps something different, like every other person in town who has some kind of an ability.

she offers him a smile before she breaks the circle she's created, releasing the poor creature used to demonstrate her ability. it skitters away as quickly as it can on its tiny legs. ] Not sure how useful it could be to the town, but I suppose it can keep specific creatures or individuals out. [ the right spell just has to be casted, is all. ] I doubt it's usefulness during expeditions, though.

[ since it requires preparation for a better boundary spell. ]

[Watching the critter rush off, hiding under chairs and dodging legs until it's too far away to follow, Quentin clears his throat. He's still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing - they're dead. All of them. And instead of some approximation of heaven or hell, or even just the bustling waiting room of the overburdened Underworld, they get this. Perpetual darkness and strangers.]

You can't make it portable? Like, uh, maybe if-- what if someone was just carrying the stuff around with them? Would that, maybe, repel something?

[Quentin had no idea, their kind of magic did have potions and herbs and rituals, some more obscure than others, some demanding more than most were willing to pay to get a shaky kind of result. But nothing like this, which looks like a shield, but maybe it isn't?]

Can it keep out those things? The spirits?

That One With the Meeting [OPEN]

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