August Intro: You Think...You Wink...You Do A Double Blink...

[lifeaftr_mods]

INTRO LOG: AUGUST

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr.
When: August 3rd
Where: Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Part I: Get Wrekt
You rouse to a splash of sea salt drying on your skin. A haze of glass-white sand glitters in your vision, dappled by lush palms and thick, curling foliage that disappears into a jungle of deep jade. From behind, crackling wood and sawing rope groan from a mangled life raft ran ashore. A petering wash of tide over pebbled sand fills your ears as you struggle to gain your bearings in a vast portrait of tropical color…

No...no, no, that’s not precisely how this story starts.

Why don't we start over?

You rouse to a splash of sea salt, spraying across yourself and the wooden floor beneath you as it breaks across the edge of the platform. The light as it dances across the sea is blinding, dappling white spots across your vision as you slowly come back to consciousness and realize that - this is not where you last remember being.

The middle of the ocean is likely not a place most recall being at all. As you struggle to fully comprehend the new scenario in which you have found yourself, three things become quickly apparent. The raft you find yourself upon barely constitutes as something that should float, never mind a boat. In the distance, perhaps a few hours away at most, a large island beckons to you, a wide strip of beach surrounded by cliffs making it very clear where the most fortuitous of directions shall be.

Lastly, of course, you’re not alone. Hopefully your new companion(s) are just as keen to get ashore before nightfall as you, or voyaging together will not be the most positive experience. At your side you will find a knapsack, one to every member of your raft party, and upon inspecting its contents, you will discover any rewards you may have accrued - as well as a few other items to give you a fighting chance.

A note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme: those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

Part II: Choose Your Own Adventure

By fortune (or misfortune, as it were), you eventually find your feet meeting sand, blessed shore to stagger upon as you shake off your newly found sea-legs. There are those that may find this place familiar, as though it appeared in a dream, though the expanse of shore certainly seems larger. The beach stretches off into the distance on both sides, curving around sharp ridges and cliffs, mist obscuring the view the farther along it goes.

So here you are. You’ve found land. Company. Supplies. The sun is now beginning to trek rather low upon the horizon…spending the night outside in such an unfamiliar land is unappealing at best and outright dangerous at the worst.

There is one silver lining in the midst of this mess. Directly ahead, the beach curves up a gentle slope until it meets forest, some manner of building visible through the trees. Further exploration of this area will reveal a dilapidated building of sorts; the architecture is indiscernible to even the most skilled eye. Despite looking as if it has seen better days, there are areas that offer some form of shelter...and who knows what else. Just because it appears uninhabited doesn’t mean you won’t wind up pleasantly, or unpleasantly, surprised.



So what shall you do from here, traveller? There is land to be explored, strangers to meet, friends to reunite with. Supplies to inspect and plenty of questions in need of being said aloud. Choose your path, make haste, and above all else: survive. And whatever you will, take heart.

Your story is about to begin anew.

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Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[shatteredlenses]

Too big, to be quite honest. Especially since they tend to hang out in packs. Some were very nearly as tall as I am and around three times as wide, if not more. It took quite a few blows from even Gladio's greatsword to crack those shells.

[As much as he likes crab claws, Ignis would very much not mind it if he never sees ones that size again.]

A clam bake, yes.

[Ignis turns a grin his way, already thinking of what he could put together for them.]

We don't need a lot for a decent clam bake, which is good considering our supply situation. Still, some condensed milk, salt, and some coconut, and I can put together quite a meal with them, no questions asked.

[justribbing]

[ Sans reassesses Ignis, takes in his height and tries to imagine what a crab that size would look like, and shakes his head with a low chuckle. ]

Yep. That's big.

[ Greatsword, though? ]

Gladio? Friend of yours? Hope you don't mind me sayin' so, but you yourself don't look like much of a fighter.

[ At least, not the type that swings around a big weapon. This he asks, as he looks around for something -- like a fragment of stone -- to chip away at the tangle of fibers that keep the mollusks rooted to the rock. ]

[shatteredlenses]

Quite big and quite crabby as the case may be.

[Ignis...no. Stop.]

Yes, Gladio is indeed a friend of mine. He's much larger than I am which is fitting for one who swings around such a big weapon all the time. I do fight, but the weapons I wield are much smaller.

[He pauses as he listens to the sounds of Sans' search. After a moment, he reaches under his sleeve and pulls a throwing dagger free from a hidden sheath. Since they were just talking about freeing the mussels, it doesn't take a lot of thought to figure out what Sans is looking for.]

Will this help?

[justribbing]

Heh heh heh, your sense of humor's claws for celebration in my book, pal.

[ can't stop won't stop ]

[ There's a sudden shift -- just Sans startling reflexively at the sight of a sharp thing in a human hand -- but no gasp, no hiss of breath that Sans doesn't have lungs for anyway, he just plucks the throwing dagger from his hand.

His fingers, such as they are, probably feel unusually thin, hard, and... cool, but the touch is too brief for much more than that momentary impression. A moment later, and Sans is (somewhat inexpertly) resuming the task of freeing molluscs from the rock. ]

Thanks, yeah. This works great.

So, uh. Carrying these around... I'm gonna guess you ain't just a cook?

[shatteredlenses]

It's such a joy to hear I won't have to worry about you punishing me should I continue.

[By their punning powers combined...

Ignis' amused expression falls a little as Sans takes the blade from him. It's not so much because of the touch, since his gloves all but cancel out the hard and cool aspects of it. It's the start the bothers him and then the thinness of the fingers that brush his. Someone needs to get a meal into this poor guy. Preferably more than one.]

Come now, don't all good chefs carry blades with them?

[Fortunately, this is a joke and not a deflection so Ignis continues without much pause.]

I've been the caretaker of a very important person most of my life. Gladio assists me in that. As such, it's important we be armed at all times.

[As said important person is here and they are trying to keep the fact that he is royalty a secret, Ignis applies a nice little deflection now when it won't be quite as obvious.]

The skull is an important symbol of my home and the flames are a pun off my own name. 'Ignis' means fire.

[justribbing]

[ Ignis, you might just be Sans's favorite of the new people he's met. With their powers combined, they'll be... punstoppable.

Sans humors him with a chuckle at the joke, but the two of them know better than that -- if he's anything like Sanji, cooking knives were never to be used for any other reason than the preparation of food. And this, well. It's obviously the sort of thing meant for cutting people. ]

Hope your Veep didn't end up washed up here with the rest of us.

[ The skeleton begins putting aside the mussels he's managed to free, slowly working his way through the cluster of slick, dark shells and the tangle of connective fibres. He only pauses to look at the knife itself. He hadn't noticed the design until he began talking about it. Huh. ]

Latin, right? [ Go figure, his doctorate came in handy. ] You don't seem down in the dumps enough for a home that advertises its skullking. But really, why a skull? Thought humans thought that kinda stuff too macabre for their tastes?

[shatteredlenses]

[They are quite the pair of pundits in this particular field, are they not?

Oddly enough, when Sans mentions his hopes for the fate of Ignis' 'Veep,' a fond and amused expression crosses the advisor's face. Considering Noctis is stuck alone in the Crystal back home, being here actually is better for him as strange as that may seem.]

Latin? If that is a language on your world, I'm afraid it isn't one on ours. At least, it's not one I've ever heard of. What we speak is called Lucian.

[It's bastardized Latin. Ignis just doesn't know that.]

Perhaps it is for other places, but death isn't something we tiptoe around in Lucis. Both the skulls and the color black are important reminders of all that the royal family has sacrificed to allow us to live in peace.

[As he speaks, Ignis turns so the back of his shirt and the skull on it becomes visible. The necklace he's wearing also has a skull pendent on it.]

There is a scourge that plagues our world and as each Lucian king dies, their soul and power wait within the Crystal until the day comes enough power is gathered to allow the Chosen King to rid our world of what plagues it. We owe them great respect for their service to us both in life and death.

[justribbing]

[ Guilty as charged. Send them both to the pungeon to serve a life sentence. ]

Lucian.

[ Sans doesn't question it, just says the word like he's tasting how it sounds. Hey, when you're aware of the many worlds interpretation of quantum physics, anything's possible. Even a world where Latin is instead Lucian.

Lucis. A kingdom with a royal family that sacrifices much for the peace of their people. As the skeleton speaks, he eyes off the symbols as he starts observing a pattern.

Guess all'a that's something like a uniform. Pretty cool. ]

Sounds noble, heh heh. We gotta king, too.

[ Apparently Sans has finished collecting, as there's a scuff as he sits himself back down, and in a few moments he's prodding at Ignis's arm with the blunt end of the handle of that dagger. ]

But he's more of a big softie type of guy. Sooner sit you down for tea and tend his flowers than, uh, anything like that.

[ Some of this sounds real damn familiar, though. ]

Brr.

[ He scrubs his phalanges across the dome of his skull, to the soft scrape of bone on bone. ]

...Geez, you just reminded me of somethin'. Wicked sense of deja vu, know what I mean?

[shatteredlenses]

[It is, in fact, a uniform, though Crownsguard uniforms are hardly what one would call stereotypical. Since the Guard works mostly to defend people, it's beneficial for them to blend in with the crowd. Blending in becomes a lot easier when your uniform doesn't match that of your fellows completely, and instead is styled in a way fitting you yet still sharing themes that make your position in the Guard clear if someone knows what to look for.

Listening to Sans speak of his king brings a soft, nostalgic look to Ignis' face.]

If we had not been at war, I suspect our king would have been the same. He willingly gave everything he was to protect his son and his people. Given the choice, though, I believe he would have been much happier walking among them than having to sit within the Citadel sacrificing his life's energy to power the wall protecting them.

[Regis was such a complex individual. Ignis knew of few others who carried so much love and kindness within themselves, yet all of that was hidden beneath an exterior sharpened to a killing edge by fate and tragedy.

Clear concern crosses Ignis' face when Sans mentions feeling such a strong sense of deja vu.]

I do, though, I dearly hope that feeling doesn't mean your king met the same fate as ours did.

[justribbing]

Nah.




[ There are minutes. Long minutes, with just the rushing tide to fill them with their frothy whispers. ]

This? Might be your first stop since really leavin' home, y'know?

[ And he doesn't mean just skipping town. He means being far, far, far from home, looking up at the night sky and wondering if one of those shining specks of light in the velvet black might be where you came from. ]

Not for everybody, pal. And at one of these, some of us got sick.

[ He remembers the smell of petrichor mixing with the odor of tainted magic, of sickness in more monstrous terms, of sweating dark oils that dry bone and dust was never meant to secrete. Of feverishly listening to whatever a good friend would tell him, just to take their minds off the illness that was killing them.

And then, with feathers and light, they were suddenly well again. ]

Doesn't matter. We got better.

[shatteredlenses]

It matters.

[Despite the fact that the words slip out without Ignis' permission, the intensity in them makes it clear he's not the kind of person who is going to allow others to belittle their pain. It doesn't matter if they got better after a while. They still suffered until then.

There's so much he wants to ask about this other world Sans' was to and about the illness, but the pause before his fellow started talking about it makes it clear that this is something very personal to him. The deflection that comes at the end is something achingly familiar to Ignis. Perhaps that is why he reacted so strongly.

Ignis wants to know more, but now isn't the time. They've just met and the world is chaos around them. Perhaps later his new friend will feel more comfortable speaking of it.]

You've put so much muscle into freeing these mussels. It would be awful shellish of me to just leave them laying around now, wouldn't it. Shall we see what I can whip up with them?

[justribbing]

[ Momentarily taken aback by Ignis's fervent conviction, Sans finds himself thankful for the invitation that follows. The guy's giving him an out on that one, huh? That's considerate. He'd be surprised by that, too, if not for the fact that this guy seems to have 'consideration' down to an art.

Heh. He's definitely the type who'd work for a Veep like his own royal family.

Still.

Sans can't help but think maybe he'd touched a nerve with this guy. Maybe -- for reasons other than his capability and his consideration, and the blindness -- he's worth keeping an eye socket on. ]

Yeah. [ Sans says that again, with a touch more sincerity. ] Yeah, pal. Let's see what you can do.

C'mon, I gotcha.

[ And those very thin, hard, cool phalanges seek to take him by the elbow. ]