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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[If you would like to talk to Rastus during the event, he can be found near the pile of stones, enchanting fresh rocks and shooing away the Postmaster General, who doesn't seem to understand that these are not rocks for keeping. Sorry, PG. Skedaddle!]

I.

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.

Edited 2019-09-07 00:27 (UTC)

SEPTEMBER 6

[ kol doesn't know anyone who has gone — disappeared, died, whatever it is here. the weekly bulletin with the massive list of names rings no bells, but he still comes down to the harbour to see the water's edge. the display is simply beautiful.

with a few magically lit stones in his pockets, he has no intentions to set the glowing rocks in a paper boat and send it on its merry way. why would he? who would it be for? none of his family would've set a paper boat off for him in the wake of his two deaths… and there's no one for him to mourn.

it doesn't matter what kol thinks, the forest spirits believe him to be eligible for a boat. despite his refusals, they manage to force a blue paper boat in his hands, neatly folded with sharp corners. one slips a marker into the pocket of his jeans. ]

[ they refuse to listen, heads bowed as they get back to work in their expert folding.

with a sigh, kol leaves them and spots someone who is without a paper boat. ]

[ they didn't.

kol will continue to hand off the paper boats (blue, pink, neatly folded, slightly crinkled) the spirits force in his hands for the duration of his stay. he won't be letting a boat go until tomorrow. ]

SEPTEMBER 7

[ they find him. forcing a boat kindly into his hands, the forest spirits look at him and then peer out at the water. did they know he kept passing their boats off all of yesterday? surely not! they were too busy with their heads down and fingers folding…

one grips kol's hand and begins to gently lead him toward the water's edge. ]

can

[ it doesn't. it takes him to the water and points toward the surface.

or kol nods toward someone near him and says to the spirit: ]

[ s.o.s. someone save him! ]

[ his forest spirit friend watches him from afar as it puts his hands back to crafting another set of beautifully folded boats. kol peers over his shoulder at it, finding that it peers at him with its antennae up and unmoving.

alright, he'll play along.

with his yellow square boat in his hand and a pen in the other, kol peers down at the golden lit water. it'd be easy to not take this seriously. couldn't he simply place it in the water and let it drift off? does the boat need to have any meaning to it? he could do it. imagining himself simply discarding the boat in the water and walking away is easy, but making himself do it is an entirely different story.

despite thinking he can simply pop it on the water's surface and let it drift, he doesn't. staring at it for a moment, kol takes his pen and begins to write.

kol mikaelson.

it isn't for the man who stands before the water's edge in beacon, but the boy he once was. the witch, the magic, the human long, long lost — the kol mikaelson who didn't have blood cravings humming beneath his skin in this very moment. ]

[ ooc: september 7 prompt b is open to one person to be there when he finally sets his own boat free. please rope kol into sending boats with your character! the spirits are going to be watching him and he'll be trolling them in return, because what is emotional vulnerability? any qs, feel free to hmu @

bogans! ]

Kuai is simply standing by the lake watching the small lighted boats as they sail away to eventually become waterlogged and sink. It's oddly serene, though his mood is morose rather than uplifted. Idly he wonders if the rocks will continue to glow when they're at the bottom of the lake.

"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.

The Soldier is still filling in the red on this star when the question comes. It pauses a moment, not looking back either but gauging distance and potential threat out of the corner of its eye. Then it shrugs, shoulder glinting in the dim light of their lanterns. "I don't know. It's just there." But it does seem to work for a signature of sorts. Nobody else is wandering around with stars on their shoulders, or anywhere else for that matter.

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.

1.

[It really is beautiful out here, isn't it? And the sendoff, like little paper lanterns down a river, is one that resonates strongly with him. Sure, he does as he often chooses to do and hangs back for a while, watching the others. Seeing who participates and who doesn't.

But it doesn't take long before he's drawn to the pile of craft supplies. He selects a few in colors he lies and sits himself down by the water with the lantern at his side.

There's a problem, though - as you might find when you hear the hiss of air through his teeth. He was trying to cut paper but now there's blood splattered across the sail and his thumb is in his mouth. Ow. Clumsy idiot.]

Do you happen to have a bandage?

2.

[Rosinante settles for two boats. Simple, maybe a little misfolded, for he never cared much for art or origami except those made by other people. In each he places a glowing stone, sets them in the water, shoos off a curious spirit who sniffs too close. Pauses, seemingly unsure if he wants to let go of them or not.]

3.

[But that's done. He's sent his wishes out into the darkness and now sits on the shore, knees tucked to his chest and arms around them. Nothing to do but watch and mourn -

Until one of the spirits, a chunky little thing with stubby legs and useless, stubby wings, piles onto his shoulders from behind and grabs his hat in its teeth. Before he can grab back, it bolts, panting, toward the pile of crafts, and Rosinante quickly staggers to his feet, slips, and falls belly-down on the sand and pebbles.]

Shit - help me chase that thing down!

[Whoever you are. It looks to be headed for the pile of crafts and probably either wants to use his hat to make something of its own, or maybe is just trying to lead him back to build more boats but damnit, his hat!]

Kuai is still wearing all his armor, still diligently tucking all those knives into every conceivable space even though he's only had to fight once since he's been here. Old habits die hard for warriors who've trained their whole life for combat.

"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."

Potential threat. But not acting threatening, and the spirits nearby don't seem perturbed. So the Soldier keeps the metal arm ready for defense, but otherwise doesn't stop from completing its little red star on the little paper boat. Kuai will get a similar sort of feel from the Soldier, despite the relative peacefulness of folding paper and drawing stars: predator, well-trained, alert, no wasted movement.

"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?"

[surprise! Mr. Big Shot Emperor isn't too good for this. On the contrary, his country has whole festivals dedicated to lanterns, this is right up his alley. Except that, it isn't exactly clear to him that this is a memorial thing, but if the spirits are all up in this, so will he be.]

A Do You Know What Time It Is?

[At first, Cao Pi just watches what other people are doing, what the spirits themselves are doing. It's all extremely familiar and yet the purpose doesn't quite match up. The New Year is months away on the other side of winter, so it can't be the Spring Lantern festival. It is, however, around the time of year for another festival that is most certainly not about the dead.]

It's about a week early for the Moon Festival. [he says idly to whoever is standing nearest to him.] What I wouldn't give for a moon cake right now, though.

[now that he said that out loud, god does he want moon cakes]

B Classics of Poetry

[eventually Cao Pi gives in and comes up with an idea for his lantern-boat. They're not supposed to be square you heathens, they should be round, so his becomes a cylinder of paper on its floating base. The markers are close enough to ink brushes than he can deign to be seen using one to write a phrase on the outside: may we be brought together as Chang'e and her lover in Chinese, before plopping a stone inside and setting it adrift. The Moon Festival is for lovers, after all, and right now he misses his Zhenji more than anything.

Huh. What a strange sense of relief to send that lantern away...

Whether others witness him with his boat, before or after, it may be somewhat obvious that he's present when he begins quietly singing a poem of his homeland, in his native tongue. Not one of his own, but an old classic. He's not trying to draw attention but it is, perhaps, one of few sounds around the beach at the moment.]

C The Party's Over

[Cao Pi is actually standing just inside the trees at the end of the path, observing what's left of the lanterns and whatever the spirits are still up to, when the sound begins all around him. In spite of himself he lets out an amazed gasp.]

...do you hear that?

[he might just tear up a little in joy at the sound. Crickets!! Oh blessed crickets!! Mostly though he's shocked and wants to be sure he's not going crazy.]

[Quentin shuffles a little ways away from everyone else. He didn't lose anyone here a short while ago and he doesn't feel like he has the right to intrude on other people's grief. In the near-silent somberness of it all, but the boats are pretty and even the slightest hint of light is a welcomed sight.

He keeps to the outskirts of the event, just looking on and quietly marveling at the sight of boats being set carefully in to the water, even by the forest spirits, and the whole wonder of them crowding out the darkness for a little bit as they sail across the lake.

Sitting down, back against a tree, he watches them all and thinks about his own dead.]

[But the forest spirits are curious spirits and a few manage to make their way over to the tree Quentin has placed himself under and he stares at them, a little open-mouthed and wondering and also, just that hint of fear because didn't one the ones who's been here a while, mention that the spirits attacked everyone.

The bravest of the spirits comes closer, though, close enough to make a musical sound at him and sniff the air around him. Fumbling his ocarina out of his pocket, Quentin tries to say 'hi' back and the result is... well, it is, because now there's two of them and they thrill softly back, moving as if they're aware of how scared Quentin might be. Moving slowly and carefully as they get close enough to touch, but when Quentin holds a hand out - like you would to a squirrel or a duck, they move away. Just out of arms reach, but they stay close.

Quentin keeps his playing soft and very quiet, so he doesn't disturb the ceremony, but he keeps trying to talk to the spirits, or at the very least, not piss them off.]

Edited 2019-09-07 14:22 (UTC)

[ Despite the fact that Scarlett was one of the many who could no doubt benefit from some magically induced peace? If anyone actually expected her to embrace arts and crafts, let alone be seen publically grieving? They clearly hadn't met the woman.

That won't stop her from being seen near the lake as people send their boats off. She might not be on board with getting involved in all this, but she could see that other people might need this sort of thing. While some might be content to believe that everything was going to be okay? Scarlett was of the belief that optimism was for soon to be dead people.

She doesn't creep around the shore, leaving everyone to do whatever they need without somebody gawking at them. Instead she finds a spot where the trees meet the shore, settling in with a knife an a bundle of medium-sized branches as she works on making what appears to be spears. ]

[Nearing the end of the second day of all this, when the spirits are starting to disperse and the pile of glowing stones has dwindled, the Soldier approaches Rastus. Slowly. It has build up enough calm, hopefully, because it's going to ask for something.

It stands well out of reach, both for its own security and that of Rastus, and holds up one of the remaining glowing stones in one hand-- not the metal one. It stands at attention and looks at the ground, not at Rastus. The request doesn't sound like a question, but it obviously is one.]

Can I keep one.

Edited 2019-09-07 16:18 (UTC)

i;; a little night music.

[ daylight can be found at the edge of the water for most of the event, his expression both thoughtful and sorrowful as he released boat after boat after boat into the waters. as he watches them drift off into the eternal night, he begins to, of all things, sing: ]

There are loved ones in your glory. / Whose dear forms you'll soon miss. / When you leave us and end your story. / Will you leave us sorrow or bliss...?

[ daylight has a surprisingly good voice for the song he sings the whole song as he continues to release boats out into the harbor's waters, watching them eventually vanish from view with a sad yet wistful expression. ]

ii;;; takes a certain clever touch.

[ daylight, at some point, ends up helping some spirits make their boats. while initially scared because of is height and size, the spirits are quick to warm up towards day when they see he's more than happy to help them out in making their own customised boats to release into the harbour.

when daylight notices someone who isn't a spirit is nearby, he perks up and raises his servo, gesturing for them to come closer if they want.

if one does opt to get close to daylight, they might see he has a pile of boats nestled next to him besides the gaggle of spirits hovering around him. his share, apparently, and, interestingly enough, they already have names written on them: auntie laura costol. uncle leeds. mr. winters. mom and dad. erin's loved ones... ]

Need help with making some boats? It looks like it's my duty right now for these fellas so I can squeeze you in if you want.

iii;;; something to remember them by.

[ it's the near end of the festival when daylight realises something terrible.

well- it must be something terrible with how he suddenly appears by someone's side, looking panicked and nervous. especially if they're about to release a boat out in the harbour or are making a boat. ]

Hey- Sorry to ask but- Can I check the paper you're using? Is it a sketch of a woman with silver hair? Black hair? Is it? Is it?

[ daylight seems almost frantic now the more he speaks, his optics wide and blanched with fear as he tried to get a good look of the paper/the boat the person happens to be holding in their hands. ]

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]

The language isn't familiar to him so he takes the name at face value.

"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."

I have not been as homesick as I am right now.

[how dare you bring up moon cakes.]

_{[It speaks to how monotonous a place like Beacon can be that he keeps showing up to these gatherings irregardless of whether he sees benefit in them or not. He wears his swords over armor, a precaution he's taken since the Lighthouse Keeper's return when he knows spirits are going to be amassing, but he's a little surprised by the numbers that actually trickle in from the forest.

Hadn't they spent a grim day butchering each other not along ago? And yet they come, cautious and contrite, like chastised children who know they've done wrong and are afraid of more punishment.

Their nervousness strikes an achingly familiar nerve. They'd lost control. Killed without meaning to. Raged in a state not unlike losing oneself to darkness. How he could not recognize that brand of uncertainty that comes with not knowing how you fit back into the flow of things? Or even if people will have you back, after what you'd done.

A thorny mix of guilt and empathy has him turning to the lone spirit that tentatively chirps at him where it busies itself with paper and a paint tray with some dried up old color chips. It gestures at the paper. An offer to join in? He shakes his head in a no, but watches a while as it rubs clawed fingers over colors and transfer them to the paper in a random configuration of dots. They are strange creatures, aren't they.

Before he can second guess--]}

Here. You can do more with it, you know.

_{[What does M.K. know about art? Nothing. But he can take scrap paper and draw a curved line, using the pad of his index finger in a bit of paint like the spirit. Another curved line connects the two halves of a misshapen crescent moon.

Whether it's the recognizable shape or the advanced painting technique, the spirit trills in delight and applauds, scrabbling for more color to copy his movements. Then it looks at him with the clear, hopeful expectation for another demonstration. Oh, damn... What's simple that hits the sweet spot between his lack of drawing skill and the spirits' language barrier? After a moment's thought, switches to the color blue and begins a different shape.

By the time he's done, the spirit is back to enthusiastically drawing on its lantern paper. Reaching for a rag, he moves to wipe the evidence from his fingers before someone can see him and turns-- And stops, realizing he's too late on that count.]}

There's something in the back of the Soldier's brain that says, Holy cow. And it's staring. Definitely staring. Because that's ice. The guy just made goddamn ice on the palm of his goddamn hand.

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.

[The Soldier had waited until Rosinante has set his boat in the water, leaving the crafting supplies free again, before it came down to the water to start one itself. The spirits like when it makes boats and sends them out with their little lights. So does the Soldier, to be honest. So every time its patrol takes it close to the harbor, here it is, making another one.

Lucky for Rosinante, that means the Soldier is already crouching by the paper when the spirit comes running. There's a command to follow: help that person get the spirit. The metal hand lashes out, catches the spirit by one of its stubby little legs, and hoists it into the air.

Without a word, but with a stern expression that says "I am disappointed in you," it holds out its flesh hand to the up-side-down creature for the stolen hat.]

[The spirit squirms wildly for a moment and squeals with the hat between its teeth, then gives up and goes limp once it realizes it's caught firmly, with no real chance of escape. Still, it gives a snort of defiance at that look, and jerks its head away from the man's hand in a futile game of keep-away.

Meanwhile, Rosinante gets back up and gives chase, but slows his stride once he sees the forest spirit has been caught. With one hand around the handle of his lantern, he scrubs dirt and sand off his shirt as he makes his way over.]

Thanks. The little things won't leave me alone.

[The guy was fast, and what he can see of that cool robot arm looks really impressive. If he ever somehow hacks off a limb, he wants a replacement like that. Rather than gawk, though, he reaches for his hat - and again, the spirit twists and contorts itself to try and keep the hat away from both of them.]

[A singer, too! Every time he comes across Daylight, Rosinante learns something surprising and new. He pauses with a half-made boat in his hand and turns in his seat to listen, then resumes working on folding paper while the tune continues on. It's a fitting backdrop for his own slow construction project, for the sendoff of the two people he truly mourns.

When finally it seems to have come to an end, Rosinante turns to face him again and lets the finished boat with its accompanying glowing rock settle in the sand beside his crossed legs.]

That was beautiful. I didn't know you could sing.

[BECAUSE THEY'RE AWESOME]

It is interesting, isn't it? That the spirits should choose this, over everything else, at this particular month.

Do you have a favorite flavor?

Maybe they want attention.

[Unlike with humans, the Soldier has absolutely no problem flipping the spirit over again and setting it on its knee, then using his non-metal hand to stroke the back of its head, like one might a cat.

Even if it gets its hand bitten, or something, it might be enough distraction for blondie to get his hat back.]

They haven't been bothering me.

[Of course, the Soldier also doesn't react in amusing ways when bothered. It also has a hair trigger for shooting people, and they can probably tell that.]

You're lucky. Though I'll take bothering over what they did to us last month.

[It was a different type, the tall slender ones - not tall compared to him, of course, but taller than the rest. He recognizes some of the ones here from the party, which is refreshing. It's good to know that despite the earlier violence, some of these creatures are still peaceful.

The stumpy, round little fellow is new to him but it seems to relax under the petting, and Rosinante crouches down in a squat so he can try to look it in the face.]

Give my hat back, please?

[He has yet to master the ocarina, but they do understand common speech, and with a sideways glance at his captor, and then at Rosinante, it rolls its shoulders and lets go with its teeth. Satisfied, Rosinante stands back up as he places the hat on his head, then rests his hands on his hips as he peers down at the two of them. Particularly the human one, since the spirit has closed its eyes while its toothy face now forms itself into a grin.]

Thanks. I'm Rosinante, by the way. You must have come off the most recent ferry, right?

[The Soldier keeps petting, half in approval for the spirit giving up the hat and half just because... it wants to, and the spirit seems to like it. It's almost as soothing as making the boats, actually.]

Soldat.

[If Rosinante speaks Russian, it translates to "soldier", but said Soldier is using it as a name for now. Something to give civilians when they want to call it something.]

And yes. I did. You've been here longer?

[On Sept 6 it had unnerved Jason a bit how close the spirits seemed to watch him and as the day had progressed they'd even started to...not really swarm him, but definitely pay closer attention to him than they were some of the others. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but he hadn't quite expected THAT aspect of being a demigod to follow him here.

On Sept 7, he's a little more used to it and does his best to ignore it. Well, not ignore it, but maybe try to figure out if this was the kind of attraction that was going to get him murdered or just that they found his scent appealing. He wasn't sure which he would prefer right now because both were kind of uncomfortable. Probably not being murdered was good.

It's because of this internal debate and being watched by spirits that he hadn't exactly been paying attention to what the non-spirits were doing. Two or three spirits trail behind him as he approaches the water's edge. They stay close and Jason looks over to see if he can convince them to back up a bit which is about the time Kol calls him out for not launching a boat.]

I was getting there.

[He turns to see Kol, remembering him from the meeting earlier, and notices Kol seems to have his own spirit-y companion.]

Are you trying to get some privacy? They seem a bit pushy about this whole thing.

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Page 1 of 19

EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

RASTUS

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier | OTA

kol mikaelson | ota

1

no subject

Rosinante | OTA

no subject

no subject

Cao Pi | open

Quentin Coldwater | The Magicians

Scarlett Harker | OTA

no subject

daylight vis lornlit. | original. | ota.

no subject

A

➤ closed to Riku | 6th

no subject

3

no subject

i.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sept 7 - a