logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

Entry tags:

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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[upon hearing the apology, daylight looks up at him. there's no denying that daylight is clearly... surprised: his brow is furrowed, his frown puzzled. almost like he's not used to people saying that if they found out about the statuses of his parents.

but then he relaxes and his smile is sad but- touched yet resigned. ]

Thank you. I- I'm used to it by now. I mean- I have to be. [ he pauses, trying to figure out what he can say without making this an uncomfortable case of oversharing and to provide some proper context to not leave his friend hanging. ] They were both long gone before I was old enough to form memories of my own. Dad and than mom.

Is that... common, where you're from?

[Might as well ask, since Daylight sounds perhaps wistful but not upset.

It's certainly not unusual where he's from, for extremely unpleasant reasons involving violence and slavery. Many children grow up with their parents, but many are orphaned. His situation is unusual for its own reasons, but not because his parents died when he was a child. That part is more common than it should be. It's why his role as a Marine protecting villages and islands of peaceful townsfolk had been so important.

But there's so much he doesn't know about Daylight's world. Maybe he'll be alright with talking about it.]

Common? You mean- [ them being dead?, is something he can't bring himself to say. daylight knows it's all but a fact for his life, an unfortunate turn of events that he couldn't control and had no part of but- still-

so he ducks his helm instead, buying some time to think of how he should answer that. ] ... No. Not really. Dad's passing was an accident. He- He chose to save others over himself when something happened.

And Mom didn't have the best health. It kind of caught up with her in the end because she worked so hard to help others. [ he feels like that's the politest and the least depressing way to summarise his parents'- his parents' absence. yeah, he decides as he looks back up at rosinante and tries to smile. ] I still got to know them, at least! Stories from my aunties and uncles and archive footage and things they wrote. I got a good idea of them from that despite everything.

I see.

[And he manages a smile to match Daylight's attitude. If the guy doesn't want to dwell on something like that, he won't force it. He's right to remember the good parts, the few things he does know of them from the rest of his family.]

I'm glad you had people like that, though. Aunts and uncles and others to tell you about them. They won't be forgotten as long as you keep those memories alive, and that's what's important, right?

[ daylight nods in agreement, looking thoughtful and pleased that someone gets it. ]

Yeah. If we take the time to remember them, they're still around, in a sense. [ he frowns now, but not because of sorrow but by his own forgetfulness. he tilts his helm to the side and he looks deep in thought. as if trying to remember something important. ] Mom once said, 'The quickest way to be rid of a person is through death. The surest way is obscurity.'

[ ... ]

That's why I'm glad this festival is happening. It's sad and it hurts to do this but- [ he pauses, taking a deep breath to keep himself from getting too worked up. ] -it's important. I'm happy that we're all taking the time to say goodbye and thank you to everyone.

[ them and the spirits. daylight has seen the way the spirits have been acting throughout the activities: contrite and sad, nervous but willing to try. he's determined to show that to them in return. ]

Yeah.

[That's all he'd ever asked for. Not to be cared for, not to be loved. Not to be looked up to, or praised for anything he had or hadn't done. Early life had taught him quickly that he was insignificant. That life was fragile, and that perhaps he didn't deserve it.

But he fought for it anyway, and he existed, and if one person remembered him then that was enough. His one selfish wish, even though he wasn't entitled to anything at all.]

I only made two boats. I don't remember my parents as well as I wish I did. But I have so much to thank them for.

[It's hard to volunteer anything about himself at all, especially anything like this. But perhaps he owes it to them.]

[ daylight looks at rosinante the entire time he speaks. his expression is thoughtful and commiserating, no doubt understanding the desire to know more about the ones who brought you into the world. and really know them, too. not just their names or collection of faint memories and descriptions of what they looked like when they were still around.

he's- he's surprised rosinante offered this piece of his past to daylight, honestly. perhaps that's why day makes his impulsive but sincere offer to him after a moment's silence: ]

Would it be alright- Would it be alright if I sang a song for them? [ though he feels like he doesn't need to clarify, daylight just wants to make sure the offer is clear, feeling suddenly very shy yet determined. ] Your parents, I mean. In festivals like these back at home, when I was still on Earth with my auntie and uncle, we have songs for family that are loved and lost, remembered and rejoiced.

[He's quiet a moment, then nods.]

I'd like that. They would like that, if they could listen.

[Probably. He barely remembers his mother. Knows he holds memories of his father in higher regard than the man might have deserved, for in reality, no man is the saint that a child might picture them to be. But his parents had given everything to make sure he would have a good life. Not an easy one, not like they might have imagined once, but Rosinante can't stomach thinking of who he might be now had they not made those sacrifices.

Well. He died anyway, he reminds himself. But that's his fault, not theirs, and he's satisfied all the same.]

Thank you. [ daylight nods in response, smiling a bit. then he turns his attention back to the waters, watching the paper lanterns gently float away down the lake and out into the great unknown.

with the image of those little lights - so much like the redlite stars from home, he now realises with a pang from his chassis - now fading from view, daylight takes a breath and sings.

it's not normal singing, however. instead of singing the human tongue that he was using earlier, daylight sings in the galateion fashion: sounds more than anything else to the ears of those not accustomed to galaetions' music and culture that was almost wiped out, time and again.

daylight emits twinkling harmonies and deep vibrations, strumming beats and echoing notes. some noises that daylight makes can almost come across as instruments with how brassy or melodic they are but they're not. not quite.

not with how daylight somehow layers the sounds over one another over time, slowly but surely creating an almost song. the song being about the feelings your creators leave after their departure. about the strange space that they occupy in both memories and dreams when they're no longer there. about how you, their creation and their legacy and more, are left to fill in the gaps with said memories and dreams, blurring lines about what could be real or not. ]

[As the song unfolds, he finds himself initially listening with rapt attention, and then just staring out at the water and letting the harmonies sink in. It's music like nothing he's ever heard before, neither vocal as he understands it nor instrumental but somehow both. And it's beautiful.

They really would love this. What little he remembers of them tells him this as if it's fact. Both his mother and father had been so open to new things, so loving of all forms of life, and they would have surely been amazed to know that out there in the universe were people made of metal who can show their appreciation for the world through song.

There are tears welling at the corners of his eyes, and he carefully blots them out with his sleeve. No point looking unaffected, so at least he can try not to smear his makeup.]

That was beautiful. What's it called?

[ daylight needs a second to compose himself when he finishes singing the lullament, his frame buzzing a little bit and the charge or arc energy seen briefly through the gaps of the armour he wears. it takes his processors and vocoder a while to realign itself with the concept of speaking the human tongue, especially after singing such a complex and layered song. ]

-It's hard to explain the title. Galateion can't be outright translated, I think. [ when trying to decipher the language, you often had to pick your battles and choose whether you wanted the outright translation or the layered significance. no in-between so reading things aloud in human tongue - any human tongue, honestly - was a feat.

but daylight does his best. he hums, the tone thoughtful, as he tries to remember how this song was described by others in the past. ] I think the best title I've heard this song being called is What Now Remains After Them. A sort of... contemplation for one's creato... one's parents, if they passed away. Especially before you got to really know them.

[Fitting, then. Perfectly so. His memories of his mother are fleeting and vague at best. Fragments of a lullaby, hands in his hair, holding him to comfort him from his brother's occasional bullying before everything fell apart. The most vivid memory that remains is her in bed under that ratty blanket, skin pale and sunken. Her coughing had kept them up at night for a little while.

Somehow, it's still better than thinking about his last memories of his father. He shakes his head as if to drive those thoughts away and focuses instead on his breathing and the tang of smoke from the cigarette in his teeth. He's ever thankful Sengoku taught him basic meditation to pull him out of those thoughts, even if adulthood and addiction had altered his practice of the techniques.]

Galateion, then. It's interesting, what translates here and what just doesn't. Strange anything translates at all, I guess. I'm just glad that we all mostly understand each other.

It- [ daylight pauses, feeling a flicker of frustration in him at his inability to find the proper words to express himself. it's amazing how this frustrates him the most in little moments like these. the moments he wants to make his words matter but they seem to slip him by.

but he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself, knowing good things come to those who are willing to try, as his dad used to say. ] -It definitely makes talking about stuff kind of hard. Feels... weird, at times, to try and explain things, knowing it's strange and different to the one you're talking to, while it's something so normal back home. Makes you feel like... an island, I guess? A whole and still alone.

But, despite it all, I'm glad we can talk. I'm glad we met. [ daylight looks up at rosinante and a big smile spreads across daylight's face, his expression earnest and sincere. ] It makes everything here a lot easier, knowing you have friends to rely on and think about.

[Rosinante returns the smile. Partly because he means it, for the strange robot is someone he does appreciate. They can bond over being the tallest ones here, but more importantly, for some reason Daylight trusts him and he doesn't want to lose that too quickly. It feels good to be liked. He's not used to it. And that therefore makes up the other reason he smiles: because he wants to look like he also regards Daylight as a friend, even though he normally would reserve that word for someone he's far closer to and has known for far longer.

Sometimes he wonders if he'd grown up around other children if he'd have social skills instead of social tactics, but they amount to the same thing in the end, don't they?]

It's true. We can't even see our way across town in all this darkness. We have to rely on each other a lot more than I'd bet most people are used to doing, so having people you know are helpful is important. Well, helpful, and... Sympathetic, I guess. There's something to be said for that, too.

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EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

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