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logsinthenight2019-09-06 04:19 pm
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Entry tags:
EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

EVENT LOG:
FOR EVERYTHING A REASON
characters: everyone.
location: the harbor.
date/time: september 6-7.
content: characters and forest spirits send off paper lantern boats in honor of those who have died..
warnings: character death
a somber kind of serenity.
When you arrive at the harbor, there are already boats in the water, and the lighthouse's red beam flares in slow pulses over the lake. The moon's a bright first quarter and the stars are out in force today, all reflected on the glassy surface of the water. It's uncharacteristically calm, this weather, so take advantage.
Rastus is down at the water's edge, tending to a large mound of pebbles that looks not unlike a miniature bonfire from a distance. The stones are all ordinary, having been collected from the beach, except Rastus has enchanted them to glow with a soft, yellow light. The enchantment will only last a week, but that's ample time for this little ceremony to send off those lost over the past two months. Or to send off something less literal, perhaps.
Next to the pile of stones is an array of craft materials—just the basic supplies like paper, markers, glue, and scissors, but more than enough to accommodate everyone in attendance. A handful of forest spirits (some you may recognize from the party!) are standing nearby to assist in paper-folding or boat-crafting if you're out of your depth there. They, along with Rastus, urge you to join in. This memorial is as much about you as it is anyone we've lost, after all. The boats can look like or represent anything you like.
Releasing boats lit with pebbles out onto the water will fill you will a sense of peace. It's a somber kind of serenity, but it's a relief nonetheless, whether you're mourning the loss of a friend or letting go of some other part of yourself. You're welcome to release as many boats as you like, too. It's not like there's a shortage of rocks around here, and even if the craft materials run low, there's plenty of other stuff around town that could be used in a pinch.
The forest spirits are in attendance, as well. Some are helping with the crafting, yes, but most are taking part themselves, building their own little boats to send out over the water. Their crafting involves more of a hands-on approach: Chomping and tearing and crinkling into unique shapes and textures. They stand out from the townsfolks' designs on the beach, but once the boats drift far enough into the surf, it's impossible to tell which vessels belong to which group. Feel free to NPC your own forest spirits for this event and refer to the OOC info post if you have questions about how they might behave.
On the final night of the event, a sound starts up along the treeline, one you haven't heard in some time, perhaps. Crickets. Cicadas. Katydids and beetles and the shrill hum of a mosquito in your ear. It seems insects have returned to Beacon from... wherever they were hiding, and the night air is now vibrant with their music. No more eerie silence back in town, where the sounds of the lake are snuffed out by the trees. It sounds almost like a real forest now.
And it will stay that way after this event ends, too. Maybe you were enjoying the time away from bugs or maybe you were longing for some sign that, yes, this world was alive once, but either way, the insects are here to stay. Well, until winter, at least.
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Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier | OTA
For lack of anything better to do, between occasional tasks for its handlers or other people that wind up temporarily in its orbit, the Soldier makes regular patrols around the cleared areas of Beacon, two or three times a day-- or a night, or indeterminate amount of time until it gets hungry enough for a meal or tired enough for a nap. That brings it down to the harbor early, pausing to stare for a long moment at the spirits.
The spirits aren't human. They aren't handlers or techs or targets. They just are. So when one comes up to pat at the Soldier's boot and scamper down to the water and back, obviously trying to lead it down to the pile of glowing stones and paper, it follows, bemused rather than alarmed. Three little spirits-- one dog-sized but mousy-looking, one a creature that looks like a miniature horse with paws instead of hooves, and one almost human-like but too small and spindly to be considered a threat-- show the Soldier how the boat is made and what they want done with it.
Defined tasks with a pleasant outcome that seem to make the spirits happier, with no actual conversation required. This is surprisingly soothing. So while it continues its patrol around the village, every time it swings back around to the harbor, the Soldier stops to send another little glowing rock out onto the water. It almost smiles. Almost. At the very least, it looks more at ease each time it kneels by the water and carefully folds paper, and doesn't twitch too badly when actual people approach.
Each little boat is marked simply with a red star, like the one on his metal shoulder.
II.
The Soldier hadn't even realized the unnatural nature of the silence until the insects come back. When it first hears a sound, it stops, looking around warily... but finally places the sound as "cricket". Interesting. More data required.
So it lingers by the edge of the forest between patrols just to listen, once or twice with one of the spirits from the lake-shore sitting at its feet. During one of its pauses, it can even be found with its tablet out, attempting to find an app that will record the sounds.
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"What does the star signify?" He doesn't turn to look at the Soldier, but he's close enough that it's probably who he's talking to.
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The Soldier is not exactly known for being artistic. This is about as creative as it's been allowed to be outside of tactics in a long time.
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"No meaning? Hm. Just like everything here. It seems fitting." It's appropriate actually. Nothing makes sense, nothing has meaning.
He goes to grab another sheet of paper, diligently folding a boat of his own. "I'm Grandmaster Kuai Liang."
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"Soldat," it answers. If Kuai speaks Russian, it will translate to "soldier", but it's intentionally meant as a name. Of sorts. A cover name, one that won't get the Soldier in trouble or make it start to think it might be a person. A safe thing to give civilians (or potential threats) who want something to call it.
Then, because it's curious, and the people here do seem to like to talk, the Soldier asks, "Why is having no meaning fitting?"
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"I thought upon arriving here after death that there would be some purpose to this place. Some meaning to it. A reason for this place having brought us all together. But the longer I am here the less certain that seems. It feels arbitrary, and meaningless."
He holds the glowing rock in his hand for a moment, closing his fist around it. There's a brief second where his hand glows with a blueish hue and the temperature around him chills, and when he opens his hand again the stone is surrounded by ice; the soft amber glow now a dull blue. Without taking his eyes off it he continues, "It's as if we are searching for answers to a puzzle without even knowing how many pieces there are."
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The Soldier-- as someone who has been frozen solid and thawed more times than it can count-- isn't sure whether to be fascinated or terrified. (Let's not be silly; of course it's both.) "What did you just do."
Maybe the Soldier will get back to philosophy in a minute. First things first, find out what the fuck is going on with ice-man here.
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"I froze it." He's still watching the lake rather than the man next to him, but eventually he turns to face him. Holding his hand out palm upright his fingers are quickly enveloped in a swirling blue mist that coalesces into a small ice orb. He lets it sit there for a second before he crushes it and lets the pieces fall to the ground.
"I used to be called Sub-Zero. In a time before here."
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The Soldier watches the pieces of ice fall with a blank expression. "How much can you freeze." Because. Well. The Soldier has been frozen a lot. And now it's got that whole thing going on in the background where its brain is warring between wanting to find out first-hand because cryo is fucking familiar, and wanting to back the fuck away and maybe shoot the guy. The only outward signs are the very intense way it's staring at Kuai's hand and how the plates in its metal left are are starting to click together and whir softly.
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i
She has no idea what time it is, though it doesn't seem to matter much with so many people still about, including one whom she recognizes from her first days here. After a moment of debate, she approaches quietly, kneeling down again when she's close but not too close.
"Hi."
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After it finishes with the little square boat, anyway. It is currently marking the edge of the paper with its now-signature little red star, matching the one on the metal shoulder. It's made a few of these so far, and while it doesn't entirely understand the point of the ceremony, it makes the spirits happy, and makes a peaceful feeling to watch them bob along.
And because civilians like conversation, and it's feeling up to it, it asks, "Are you well?"
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"I'm okay," she answers without hesitation, and after a moment she's surprised to realize that it's true. She feels... lighter somehow, and she hadn't even realized it until that moment. Watching him make that little star, she asks in turn, "How are you doing?"
She hasn't seen him since that first day, keeping mostly to herself while learning what she could of this place. Now she regrets that time lost between them.
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Which sounds ridiculous, but you know what, it doesn't care right now.
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"I made one of them too earlier." Glancing out toward the water, she can't tell which it is anymore, the darkness playing with her vision despite the glowing light within each boat. "Is yours for anyone in particular?"
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When it started doing this, the spirits had shown him what to do. No one had actually explained what they were doing it for.
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"Back home, my friends and I did a ceremony like this," she begins, watching the water so he can process the information without her seeing any reactions. It seems like a good thing to do, to give him that space. "We had paper lanterns then that we lit so they'd float into the air. We each lit one as a memorial, to remember people we'd lost."
She looks down at her knees then, at the little stones on the ground and the edge of the water that moves so slightly. "I lit one for my parents, my aunt Jenna, all the people my friends had lost... And for myself. For everything I'd lost, and everything I could never be. And that's why I did it tonight, too. It's meant to help us heal by acknowledging that loss and trying to let it go so we can move on from it."
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Does that mean it should stop making the little boats? It doesn't have anyone to acknowledge. (Hahahahaha. Haha. Ha. Yeah, pal. Nobody at all.)
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insert wildcard
Which turns, after a half-hour, into origami. It's slow going, something she hasn't done since she was a kid, but...pleasant. Poor lighting, nothing even to fold on, but she thinks of it as a challenge.
A familiar face on the periphery, she would guess retreating from a released boat, catches attention. He seems to err on the side of quiet. Rather than call out, she drums up a smile and waves a fox-red square of paper in his direction.
"Hey, you."
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The past day or so hasn't been one of those times, because between other tasks, it's had the little boats.
At her voice it changes the angle of its path to intercept without missing a step. "Handler Misty." There's not a smile, the Soldier still doesn't smile. But there's a slight relaxing of expression and shoulders, and the metal arm makes a brief rippling of plates as if saying hi, too. She's a good handler, hasn't even tried to hurt anyone yet, not even the Soldier itself. It's nice. Helps that the whole little boats thing makes it feel more calm, too.
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"Paying respects, or just passing by?" She asks, dividing focus between him and the paper she's working between her hands. He's solemn enough and active enough she could imagine a case for either; and it's her best bet for small talk. A stone's throw from 'how are you'.
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"Just making little boats," the Soldier answers. "I don't have any respects to pay." Thankfully Elena already gave it permission to keep going when it learned the real reason for all this, so Misty doesn't have to deal with its confusion and dismay at the discovery.
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A hand extends toward him, and when it opens there sits something paper and vaguely canine-shaped on her palm.
"For the next boat." Or him! Whichever.
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"Or for luck? I'm saying it's lucky, as of now."
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