EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

[inthenightmods]

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.

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

Comments

Mary | OTA

[withsadness]

a. [Mary doesn't know how to make paper boats. She knows how to draw, of course, and spends a good deal of time personalizing a little picture for every one of her dearly departed friends. She loves them, she misses them, she's sorry that they died again, and that they haven't come back. She should cry, probably, or could cry, maybe, but that's not how she's feeling, exactly. Because it's more angry than sad.

They've left her.

But it isn't their fault, is it? They didn't do it on purpose. Mary sits with a quill-covered spirit roughly her own size, maybe a bit smaller, and watches it gnash at its paper with its pointed teeth. Without blinking, she mimics the action, and shoves one of her drawings into her mouth.]

b. [Either she gets tired of eating paper or has decided that her mashed-up paper creations don't suit her needs the way that she'd like them to, because eventually she leaves the company of her forest spirit friends and comes up to you, holding up one of her drawings of a lost member of their company.]

I need to make it a boat.

[This is her version of asking for help. Mary's just assuming that she's gonna get it. Look at her big sad eyes!]

c. [Standing quietly at the edge of the dark water, illuminated by the multitude of glowing pebbles, Mary says nothing for a long time. It's not until she notices someone's close by, and maybe not leaving, that she suddenly says what's on her mind.]

Where do you think they'll go?

a;

[silvercrusader]

[He sent out a few boats of his own, but they weren't for anyone here. The names on them are strange, foreign, and he hopes to god he got the spelling right. He hidden one carefully, sending it out swiftly, but that's neither here nor there. He only notices her on the way pack, climbing up the bank, dodging some of the larger spirits.

Mary's sitting with one. He doesn't like that, but he can't tell her what to do. He can, however, intervene when he sees her jamming paper into her mouth, jesus--]

Oye, oye-- don't put it in your mouth!

[withsadness]

[What're you gonna do about it, Pol? Because she looks over at him but absolutely keeps chewing. Great!]

[silvercrusader]

You're gonna get sick! Damn it--

[If he knew her slightly better, know that he would not have many qualms about shoving a finger in her mouth and removing that drawing like she's a baby. But alas, he does not, and also the thought of that is kind of gross? Ew, spit.

So he just kind of grimaces. Gross, gurl!]

[withsadness]

[Mary says something muffled behind the crinkles of way too much paper, and then carefully draws it out into her hands. Damp, crumpled, but maybe not totally sopping thanks to the wax protection of her crayons.]

It's okay, I wasn't gonna swallow it.

[She examines her...creation? Then she looks over at what the spirit has done. Hm...they're quite different. Maybe she doesn't have the right teeth. But she tries to curve up the edges of her mess.]

I thought I could make it a flower that can sail away.

[silvercrusader]

[He sprawls next to her, far away from that spirit, and glances down at her wet creation.]

You want me to give it a shot? Bet I could make something that'd float.

[withsadness]

Yes!

[She'd love that, in fact, and eagerly turns toward him, offering her crumpled, soggy mess of a drawing.]

[silvercrusader]

[Hm. It's a rough start to work with, but he'll do his best, carefully (if slightly clumsily) folding paper over.]

I used to do this for my sister, y'know. When she was your age. She never had the patience to do this shiiiituff. Stuff.

[That doesn't mean he's good at it. But he's willing to do it, so maybe that's all that matters.]

How old are you, kiddo?

[withsadness]

I dunno.

[She doesn't really...actually know. She just gives her best estimate as she watches him fold the paper with clear excitement.]

Nine!

b.

[worthallthis]

[Sad eyes aren't even necessary, kiddo. The Soldier is just coming back to the shoreline on its regular patrol, and seeing the cute, sad girl from before has it already angling vaguely her direction in case she feels like talking again. Or needs something.

And it's in luck, she does need something. The Soldier doesn't smile, but its expression is still softer than its wont.]

Of course. I've made a few boats. I can help.

[withsadness]

[Oh, good! Mary smiles with visible relief as she hands him her drawing. It's nice to see Soldat again, anyway.]

I want to make sure it can travel very, very well! That way, maybe it will find somewhere nice.

[worthallthis]

I'm sure it'll go far.

[The Soldier accepts her drawing, examines it with a kind of detached curiosity, then finds a spot with decently flat ground (it has a favorite spot, in fact, which is great for folding things on) to kneel down and start the work. It's pretty obvious the Soldier has made a few of these, since the motions are well-practiced. It mostly uses its right hand, the non-metal one.]

[withsadness]

[Following him to the spot in question, she sits down on her knees to watch his work with intense scrutiny. She's not sure that she'll remember any of the process, but it's still amazing to watch how his hand works. Of course, her gaze does flicker to the metal one that doesn't quite participate to the same extent, and it makes her curious.]

What happened to your arm, Soldat?

[worthallthis]

[It obligingly makes sure its actions are slow and clear, in case she does want to try it herself next time.]

It's always been like that.

[It thinks. Probably. It sure doesn't remember getting a flesh arm replaced with a metal one. That would be memorable. (And probably awful.)]

[withsadness]

Really...?

[That seems odd. People don't just have things like that, right? But then, who is she to judge? Maybe he has always been like that.]

I've always been like this, too, so that's okay.

[worthallthis]

[Nice of her to say that, anyway. The Soldier makes another careful fold and says, maybe possibly teasing a little bit,]

At least you're cute. A metal arm isn't.

[Kids are okay to be a little less Soldier-y around. It's made this decision now.]

[withsadness]

What do you mean? I think it's cute!

[She thinks it's cute!!!]

c

[callada]

[His boats drift off with the others; he can still see them as he makes his way to Mary's side and then sits on the shore next to her so as not to tower so dramatically overhead.]

Dunno. Lakes don't usually have much of a current, but it depends on how big they are. If we ever see these boats again, we'll learn something about the way the water works here. If there's a source, or an exit, or how wide it is.

[Not the most poetic answer, nor a fanciful one. Nothing about ghosts and lost loved ones and spirits going to some great beyond, because he doesn't believe in talking down to children. She's bright, and she deserves to understand real things.]

[withsadness]

...the lights will go out, and they'll all be in the dark.

[After a quiet moment, she looks away from the boats, turning toward him.]

What will happen if there's an exit?

[callada]

Depends on where it goes. Depends on if this place follows the rules water follows in my world. It might not. But most lakes have several sources, like the river over there, and they have at least one exit too. That's why they don't just get deeper forever and overflow. The water has to go somewhere. Out to another river, which might go to an ocean. We could follow it.

[But why? Well, he'll let her ask if she wonders about that, but it's a logical question to leap to. Why bother, if it's all dark, and those titanic monsters will just come to swallow the light anyway?

And if this lake doesn't follow the rules he knows so well, what then?]

[withsadness]

[Why, indeed. She does ask--sort of.]

Do you want to leave?

[callada]

Not permanently.

[He responds quickly, hoping to keep her from being too worried about that.]

Not when we clearly need to work together to survive. But I don't know what else is out there. What if there were other people here once, in other cities around the lake? What if there still are?

[withsadness]

You think so?

[Mary wonders, but not in the same way. Not in the way that she considers there's any proper point in it.]

I don't think there's anybody out there. I think it's all just dark.

[callada]

Won't know if we don't go look.

[And he's itching to be out on the water, if he's honest with himself. The darkness makes everything feel so small but he knows this world is bigger than what the tablet map shows. It has to be.]

I guess that makes these little paper boats our advance message to anyone else who might be out there. Like a "we're here too" to the rest of the world. Did you send any out?

[withsadness]

Mm-hmm.

[Mary nods.]

A drawing for each one of my friends. I got help on folding them into boats.