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inthenightmods) wrote in
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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It's pretty sure she won't hurt it. Well, not for long, not the way she means. The Soldier fully expects this to hurt, but the Soldier heals quickly.
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"That's—" She stands quickly and shakes her head, despite his being turned away from her. "That's not why I— I can wait another day, it's fine."
That's not why she'd stopped to talk to him. Is it?
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The Soldier turns back to her, task complete and registering her sudden change of tone. It looks... a little confused. "If you're hungry now, I can help. I said that I would."
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"I know. And I am. I guess I'm just..." She crosses her arms and suddenly looks very much like the nineteen year old girl she is, despite the whole supernatural predator thing. "Scared."
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(What helps it when it's afraid? Sass.)
It says, with ultra-blandness in its tone and the most bland non-assassin-y expression it can muster, "I know, I am a little scary." It's trying to lighten the mood. Trying. It might not succeed but dammit it's trying.
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"Pretty sure I'm scarier." She somehow even manages to throw that tone right back at him with just a hint of something like a challenge mixed in for good measure.
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This is a dumb not-argument. But she sounds less tense. That makes it worth it.
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She says it easily enough but that nervousness comes flooding back as she lets her face shift into that of a vampire. Fangs elongating, the whites of her eyes turn red, the veins below her eyes turning black. And then she holds it there, watching him, waiting for whatever reaction may come and trying not to think about just how alone she is here.
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(Knew a guy once with his face all red and skinless and noseless. This don't hold a fuckin' candle to that. The Soldier can't even imagine that. But it does sound worse.)
"Okay," it says after a moment of considering a good response that won't make her tense and afraid again. "But I'd be scarier if I had all my tac gear. There's a mask and goggles. Makes me look like I don't have a face." That was pretty much the point, it thinks. It doesn't even remember wearing the mask, exactly, but it knows very clearly that it's standard mission attire. Not sure why the handlers didn't make it wear that shit on the last mission.
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Her face shifts back to normal and she's almost smiling as she responds, "I guess it's a good thing there aren't any werewolves here, they'd out-scare us both."
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Looking a bit nervous again, she explains quietly, "The only person I've fed from here is someone from back home. Or something like it anyway. I knew her family. But I haven't... from anyone who isn't used to it."
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But to start, she'll have to do this. With his help. Taking a deep breath, she nods and explains, "The bite hurts, but it isn't bad, just two small cuts. There's an odd pressure from the blood being pulled out, but I don't need much. It doesn't take long, then we just apply a bandage."
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"I heal quickly, it might not need the bandage," it says. Blood is usually drawn from the arm before or after missions, so that seems the most logical place for this, too. It rolls up its right sleeve, and offers her its arm. (The left, obviously, won't work. That there's made of metal.)
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Shifting slightly closer, she reaches out to gently take hold of his arm, holding the side of his hand and near the elbow to keep him steady. Glancing up at his face once more, making sure he hasn't changed his mind, she finally leans in, her face shifting to the one she'd shown him before just as she wraps her teeth around his wrist and bites down.
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The bite, weirdly, isn't nearly as bad as the hands. Pain is normal. Pain is familiar. It's being touched while in pain that's weird. Besides, it doesn't even really hurt that much.
So the Soldier stands patient and with carefully controlled breathing to let her have what she needs. Like a technician drawing blood to test or repairing the arm.
If she can taste differences in blood, the Soldier's has something extra that your typical human doesn't have. It tastes weirdly synthetic, a little alien, but powerful.
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A trickle of his blood runs down her chin as she pulls away, a strange aftertaste on her tongue that she can't quite place. Her face shifts back to normal as she wipes away the streak with the back of her hand and before giving another swipe with her sleeve to erase any trace of red.
"I know you said you heal fast," she tells him, fishing a sealed bandage from her jeans pocket and immediately unwrapping the bandage to peel the sheet from the adhesive, "but I'll feel better knowing you're taken care, just in case."
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"Was that enough." Not that it's not relaxing internally now that she's not holding onto its arm anymore, regardless. But it really didn't seem like very much.
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"You should check it later, and try not to get it wet," she instructs, tucking her hair behind an ear in an almost nervous gesture. "And... thank you. Really."
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It was less painful or awkward than severely uncomfortable, but helping Elena is a good thing to do, especially when it will heal from what she needs faster than most people. The Soldier can deal with being uncomfortable.
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"That means a lot. Really, I appreciate it more than I can say." It feels important that he know that, more than anyone else here. She isn't forcing him into this and she never would, so to have him volunteer so willingly is a gift she'll try her best to repay.
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Besides, she looks like she feels a little better, more relaxed somehow. That's worth dealing with a few minutes of someone touching him.
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But for now, she nods, more to herself than anything else, and then gestures out to the lake. "You should make another boat if you want," she suggests, the soft glow from all those little lights illuminating the water's surface. "You're pretty good at it."
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And, because now it has official permission, the Soldier dips its head to her, steps back once, and then turns to head over to the craft pile. It's done its duty, made (technician?) Elena feel better, and now it badly needs to recharge its ability to handle people. The paper boats help. So will not being touched for a while.
Hopefully that's not too rude.