logsinthenight | 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It might.

[Rosinante has noticed, of course - that tendency to give statements rather than ask questions. An odd quirk, and it makes him wonder just what sort of soldier the man had been. Sniper, assassin - yes, he'd said all that, but his tone coupled with the metal arm adds to the robotic effect, like he was a tool to be used by his superiors and not an individual.

He's not here to question the techniques of other militaries, but it puts a bad taste in his mouth.]

You said you'd read back on the network, though, right? So you've seen one or two. They used to come in paper form only. The Keeper writes them, so now that she's on the network, so are they.

They didn't seem that specific.

[Though there were a few things that were weirdly specific, it recalls. The thing with the tablet. And the man taking in a plant spirit. But that makes a more interesting point, and the Soldier frowns just a little.]

How does the keeper know everything to write. She is stuck in the lighthouse.

[It has been on the lookout for electronic surveillance, but hasn't seen anything...]

[Good, he'd picked up on that little mystery quickly.]

She says the forest spirits bring her the news. Rastus writes her letters, and they deliver them. But if it doesn't feel like it adds up to you then you're not alone. There's a lot that's fishy about what she says and does.

About a lot of this.

[Of course, the Soldier is paranoid as all hell about a lot of things. While at the same time stupidly passive about others. It's a weird sort of existence.]

Did you see her? When you were connecting the lighthouse to the network.

Sort of. Just her silhouette in front of the beacon. Not enough to really go off of. I don't think I'd recognize her if she walked through town.

[Not that she can, if the lighthouse is effectively her lantern, and that's a claim he does believe.]

But she's sure chatty now that she has network access. Probably got lonely out there.

Not as chatty as some of you people.

[Oops did it say that out loud. (Of course it did. The Soldier only rarely says things out loud that it doesn't mean to.)]

I have been reading. Everyone writes a lot.

[It would be overwhelming if the Soldier wasn't hungry for information and things to pass the time. It is, however, rather baffling, that so many people are saying so many things, just out in the open like that.]

That they do. You're not complaining, are you?

[There's a smirk at the corner of his lipstick-painted lips. The others do talk and talk - and Rosinante too sometimes, fair is fair. There's a lot of information to work through and when none of them are familiar with their surroundings or circumstances, collaboration is beneficial.

But at the same time, he of all people recognizes the benefit of silence. He spent years without saying hardly a single word. There's a lot to gain from listening to others. Ultimately, though, he's found that information is best gained when others like and trust him, and here, that means willingly sharing what he's found. There's nobody here to spy on, no conflicting governments or factions - yet, and hopefully it stays that way. But habits die hard, and a lifetime of infiltration and espionage training dies harder, if it ever does at all.]

[Not exactly complaining, but. The Soldier pauses to think a moment, unknowingly on the same train of thought as Rosinante. So it says, a thoughtful almost-question,]

How do they all trust enough to give that much away.

Most people have a lot of trust in others to begin with. And here, nobody's going to get far acting on their own. Gotta work together, and that means sharing what we discover, and helping each other figure this place out.

[The personal stuff can be held back, unless and until it becomes relevant. That life is over now anyway, and Rosinante welcomes the new start.

Maybe Soldat will see it that way too, eventually. He sees elements of himself in the man, but more than that he sees elements of the kids Doflamingo had taken in. Scared, alone, traumatized. Trained and given goals and purpose, even if that purpose was singular and violent.]

It's different, I get that. I don't know what you've been through, but this is different from where you came from. You can be a new person, if that's what you want. I don't think anyone here minds, so long as we make it through alive.

[Oops someone said the P-word. Thankfully the Soldier is comfortable enough with the conversation and its position at the moment not to actively freak out, but it's suddenly a little less comfortable. What pops out of its mouth is automatic:]

I am not a person.

[Can't be a new person if you were never a person to begin with. Also, it's almost tempted to make one of those network posts to inform everyone to stop calling it a person, that shit gets it in trouble and also panic. (Almost.)]

[Oookay, unexpected reply there. His eyebrows arch up under his bangs in surprise at the firmness of such an unusual statement.]

Sorry. My mistake. Then... what are you?

[What an odd question to have to ask, but this place and its - residents, apparently, if not all people - are full of surprises.]

[Yeah, sorry, Rosinante. It's a pretty random hang-up.]

The Asset. Property of HYDRA. Code name Winter Soldier.

[Eventually it'll get some personhood back. But it's only been a week.]

Right.

[He had said some of that earlier. Property of Hydra and all that, whatever it means. It just didn't strike Rosinante as a thing that would rule out personhood.

Well, he doesn't know the guy. It's not his place or his intention to correct him or anything like that. Not a person? Okay buddy. You do you. So he frowns slightly, but nods as he takes a draw from his cigarette. We'll just let this one go.]

Anyway, most others here are people as far as I know, and the point was, they trust each other because they don't have a reason not to, and because it's probably helpful to all of us. Up to you if you want to join in, or just sit back and keep reading and listening. They're always going to have more to say, after all.

[You're the Soldier's favorite right now, Rosinante, for not making a big deal out of this. Actually helps that little bit of discomfort even out again. The Soldier nods.]

I'll reply if I see a need to. So far there hasn't been much need to.

[Nothing that a brainwashed assassin could really add to any conversations.]

But I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.

EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject