lifeaftr | October Aftermath: Crystal Clear

October Aftermath: Crystal Clear

Who: All!
What: You're back, for better or worse. Time to recover.
When: Backdated to the 24th and beyond.
Where: The Monkey Compound, Islets, etc.
Warnings: Mark as you go.

No matter where you are on the morning of the 24th, things will very abruptly go dark.

Unless you're dead. In which case, things are already dark. And you do not see this.

For the rest of you, however, the Storyteller appears only briefly. Gone is their seemingly indifferent nature; as the rabbit hops too and throe, the pages of their tome flick back and forth in an erratic pattern, stopping on a blank page for only a moment, before continuing on. Despite the pages always turning in the one direction, there seems to be no end to them, not at all.

"I'll keep this brief, for the moment. All of you have now been removed from the caverns below," A haggard sigh- and a reluctant addition. "Those of you still alive.

"Your efforts have allowed me access to what lies below. I have sealed off the entrances- from now, the responsibility of cleaning up the mess is upon me."

And that appears to be it. Darkness returns, along with the sensation of lying upon the sand. Birds call out from the jungle, joining the rhythmic shift of the waves. No matter where you were on the island; underground, or above, you awaken upon the shoreline near the Storyteller's temple, along with the rest of the survivors.

"For what it is worth, I am truly sorry."

[[If you have yet to do so, make sure you confirm your character's death here!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The Batter stares back. His "heart", hun?

To him, his own death meant nothing. The Batter could be revived with Jokers and he could revive his Add-Ons with his own ability. As long as the Puppeteer allowed him to stand, he'd keep standing up. That seemed to be the case here...sort of. The Batter could tell right away what the consequence for his death was this time.

Long story short, death didn't stick here. And that...

...was not worth talking about. His heart didn't matter. He was fine.]

It's fine.

[That monotone way he speaks makes it easy to hide away what he was feeling. Perhaps that in itself was a blessing.]

[By the way she smiles, it's clear that's the response she was hoping for. No physical issues, nothing's wrong with his heart and he looks no worse for wear. She can't tell if there's anything beyond that, or if he's lying, but right now she can take solace in the fact he's alive.]

You can tell me if it starts to hurt.

[And what help could she possibly offer? A plate of nothing with a side of useless to top it off. A literal helping hand is all she has at her disposal, but she's offering it up to whoever she can.]

Does the ocean make you happy?

[The Batter isn't lying, per say. It's just not a topic he liked talking about so he won't. And Ren is right, he's fine. The purifier's death was inconsequential.]

It is new.

[So not necessarily 'happy' but curious. The idea of an seemly unlimited expansion of a liquid was not a concept the Batter was unfamiliar with but the Element of Plastic was different then water. Less artificial.

More real.]

[Coming from someone who lived in a world without flowers, Ren shouldn't be surprised the ocean is new to him. She's seen large bodies of water before, stuck behind dams, but the ocean is a whole other beast. It's huge. She can see where it would capture his attention and it leaves her wondering-]

Did you see the treasures?

[This girl and her treasures.]

No. Are there some?

[All he can see is blue and it kind of hurts the Batter's eyes. Oh the interesting issues that crop up when your world has a very limited color pallet and this one doesn't.]

[SHE'S TRYING TO SHARE. At least it's not corpse candy this time.]

Yes, I can show you how to find them. They're very pretty.

[Maybe this will get some kind of reaction out of him. She can't imagine how it wouldn't. The first time she saw the pretty objects wash up on shore, she felt her heart practically bust out of her chest. A whole beach, littered with pretty rocks and shells.

She drops her bag to the ground and ambles over to shallow part.]

You can see them right here.

[Thank you for not sharing corpse candy with him.

The Batter, for a lack of anything to do right now, follows her into the shallows. The water is cold but it doesn't seem to bother him much. And what he sees are...

Rocks and something else. He hasn't seen shells before, or at least examined them up close.]

What are these?

[Pointing out the shells in particular.]

Seashells.

[Her barefoot self doesn't seem to mind the water, even as it soaks the bottom part of her pants. She does this often enough and leans over to dig under the ones the batter points out, scraping into the sand to get the better ones she knows are hiding underneath.

Lo and behold, she manages to find a couple pretty shells. She even washes them in the ocean water before holding them up to him. None of the grit, all the glint-look at these things.]

You can keep these. They're for you.

[The Batter can feel the water start to seep into his shoes after awhile. The sun is shining and all in all, it was a very nice day. He could feel the warmth on his skin and the breeze in his hair.

And he can't feel a single thing, positive or negative, about it. All the purifier knew was that he didn't want to be here. And why--]

Okay.

[He reaches out to take them. The Batter isn't smiling like usual but he isn't saying no or asking more questions.]

[Like the afternoon flower adventure they had all those months ago, the second she plops those seashells into his hand, she waits-

and waits-

and again, nothing. No smile-not even a small quirk of the lips. His face is devoid of any trace of emotion and she can't understand why.]

It doesn't make you happy?

[Ah.

The Batter didn't express emotion. It wasn't like the feelings and thoughts that others could experience were a complete unknown to the man, it was just that he himself personally didn't feel the same. Happiness, joy, anger, hate...it was like a feather touch whenever he experienced those moments and then they faded into the nothingness that made up his soul.

He was sure he loved and was loved in turn, once upon a time, but the Batter could not remember it.

And they were about to repeat the same conversation that they had when Ren introduced him to flowers. He still had that flower she gave him but it soon withered away because he wasn't sure what to do with it. The Batter wasn't sure how to feel about that either. But that was becoming a reoccurring theme lately.]

No. [An elaboration would probably be nice.] I don't feel anything.

[Not for flowers or seashells. That was something that belonged to memories far off and a place beyond the rainbow.]

Edited 2017-11-27 06:26 (UTC)

[Nothing.

It's certainly not a lie and if it is, it's a good one. There's no hint of a smile or anything else that would indicate some kind of happiness. It's just him, and that's fine, but she doesn't understand how he can't find meaning in this. She plucks one of the seashells from his hand and flips it upside down to see if that makes a difference. It's shinier? Does that make you happy, Batter??? She continues on, flipping the rest of the shells in the palm of his hand and when she's done, looks up at him.]

You can still have them.

[The flower hadn't done much, but the shells might. They won't die. They don't lose their smell. He can look at them at any point and they'll remain the same, relatively. One day they might do something for him. This is like a treasure upgrade, Batter.

Her attention goes back to the shallow waters and she kicks some of the sand with her foot.]

I'll find a special one for you. One with pretty colors.

[The Batter watches Ren turn the seashells in his hand, waiting for something that he can't give. As far as the purifier remembers he's been like this. Pretty flowers and seashells won't bring it back. A change of heart would not stop the flow of a disease-riddled world and the only salvation the Batter could bring.

It would not save him. Nothing but the end could, an end he could not be given here.

And as a result, he felt less and less real as the days went by. "I'm here.", feeling the words out once he stepped into Hugo's room for the last time.

"Look. He has your eyes."

"They are full of fear."]

...it will not change anything.

[You cannot change a windup toy's feelings Ren. It's impossible.]

[Those words make her pause in her little search, looking up to him instead of concentrating on how far her toes are digging in the sand. It will not change anything he says, but she thinks it might. For a man who doesn't understand flowers and happiness, it might. For a man that allowed her to watch him sleep all night-who gave her the first glimpse of what it was like to see people wake up. To see a chance at a different life-

Well, she'll search all day until she finds a good shell. If it doesn't change anything now, that's fine. It might one day.]

That's okay if it doesn't.

[And she's looking back to the water, kneeling and digging in the ground, oblivious to how it's soaking her clothes.]

It's a good treasure for your bag. It'll make it look pretty on the inside.

[There's a moment where the Batter feels an almost childish urge to protest. He had before when another child had insisted he was a demon. But this time feels...different.

The Batter tugs at something wrapped around his wrist that only he can feel. Ren can't see what he does, his perspective. As far as the purifier was aware she saw him as a human. What would Ren think, knowing a monster was standing right behind her? Someone who killed a child much younger then her and could easily kill her right now?

Something twists in his stomach and he grips his wrist tightly. They're still here, those broken strings, but the Puppeteer wasn't. And the Batter was never meant to answer the question "What now?".

So he doesn't respond. It's better that way. It has to be.]

[The silent approval(?) is all this gremlin needs to refocus her efforts to the sand under her feet. He's not leaving-just holding his arm in a strange way that makes her wonder if he's hurt after all. Though she doesn't say anything about it, her eyes flicker up to him often as she digs and digs and digs.

And eventually, she begins to hum to herself. She doesn't need to fill the silence-doesn't find it uncomfortable or lonely to stay that way, but she's happy. The little tune is a testament to that.

As the time goes on, she flits back and forth between the shallow waters and the shore. The little pile of colorful shells growing bigger and bigger until her fingers prune to the point they feel weird and she has to stop.]

Do you like these colors?

[There's a tune and it reminds him of a certain music box. A tune that once echoed in a small room that hid many other rooms inside. Hid a little boy away from the death that he knew was coming and created himself. The Batter didn't know why Hugo made him the way he did. He couldn't understand and simply moved forward.

He didn't hate the child. He...]

It reminds me of the rainbow.

[A lot of things did.]

[It's a response she didn't expect. For the answers he could have offered-a 'yes' or 'no' or 'it doesn't matter', to hear one like this is a pleasant surprise. And one she doesn't take for granted.

It's one that proves she was right to dig through the sand to make this pile for him. The rainbow. It has to be a good memory. Even she can recall the way the colors glittered in the sky after a rainstorm and how happy it made her.]

Now your bag can be a rainbow. It can be like that.

[It's....

The Batter wouldn't call it a good memory, but it's one of the few he can clearly remember right as the world began to decay. In certain places in the Room, it rained once in awhile. It was probably due to how Hugo felt at the time. He had gone outside because there was nothing to do at the time and even then the need for a purpose clawed at the Batter's heart. He had not been given his mission yet, at this point.

But the storm that had passed was clearing and he saw the rainbow that formed. A second of 'what was'. Once again. The calm after the storm, the moment where the old gave away to the new. The tendrils of the rising sun reminded the Batter of the Queen's hair, something he only half-remembered nowadays and was slowly eroding away like his sense of self had long ago.

Purity was subjective but the Batter had seen it once before. He saw it in a child's smile and imagination, a woman's warm love. There was nothing more pure then that. But it all crumbled away. The Queen was only able to dream sweet dreams now and Hugo had been put to sleep by the Batter himself. And he...he was suppose to be....

The Batter was supposed to be dead and gone. He cannot survive like this for long. He was not meant to survive. Some stories were never meant to have sequels. The Batter had his purpose and finished it. Once someone had finished playing with a toy they put it away for good. He was do͞҉n̸͘͢e̶̛.

But the purifier grips his wrist even harder and doesn't say any of this. He can't.]

If it could be like that.

[But the Batter highly doubts it.]

[Empathy or not, she can tell something is wrong. There's something strange about the way he's speaking now. It's far beyond the typical responses she normally gets from him. Whether it's a pain in his arm that won't stop aching or something hidden in the depths of his heart, to a place even her power can't reach, there's something different now.

If it could be like that.

Her eyes stay trained on his arm, wondering what's in these multi-colored shells he's seeing that she isn't. Wondering what he isn't voicing, why his arm hurts, why he won't just tell her because she can't feel anything like she used to with Seto and-

There isn't a part of her that knows how to help-how to muster up enough words to express the importance of why can't it? to a man that would likely answer with silence.

If Seto were here, he could do it. She's certain of that. He could solve any problem in front of him. Do what looks impossible. Save people from their pain in a way that was uniquely his own. A way that would easily get this man to open up about whatever pain is bothering him, if there's even one to begin with. Seto could smile, could fight, could-

But it doesn't stop her from thinking about the one issue at hand she can solve. And she won't be deterred from that.

If it could be like that, is what he said, and the only thing she can think to do is show him that it can.

She moves to stand between the shells and him, holding out both her hands, palms up. It's a demonstration he doesn't need, but she wants to get the point across. Hold out your hands, pal. ]

You should do this.

[There's a storm that's passed, a rainbow made out of the destruction. A child laughs at the spectacle, dancing in the puddles on the ground and willing something into nothing. Hugo had both of their powers, the Queen's creation and the Batter's destruction. Although given that they were born from him, it was the other way around.

But Hugo was more like his mother. He created and created until he could do no more. And then the world along with himself decayed due to inevitability. Then it was the Batter's turn.

The only thing that remain afterwords was himself. Thanks to this place, the Batter alone survived the destruction wrought by his own hands. The Puppeteer helped, every single one did. They gave him the way forward, the answers to the puzzles hindering his way and strings to pull his broken body up when he fell in battle. But they were no longer with him.

The Batter was alone with his own thoughts. And as more and more days passed by he felt his mind twist and bend upon himself. The Batter was rapidly losing his sense of self, the parts that he had not deliberately cast aside. If you wanted to fight, you deadened everything about yourself. He had not needed any of 'himself'.

And now he no longer felt real but more and more like the puppet still waiting in the toy store for a child that would no longer come. He was alone, with himself for company. And the Batter...he couldn't---

The thoughts grind to a halt for a brief, beautiful moment and he looks at Ren. The Batter still isn't expressing anything but this time around it looks like he's deliberately trying not to. He doesn't know what she's going to do - the Batter was observant but not a mind reader and some of Ren's thought processes escaped him. But it was probably something positive, something meant to try and help him feel better.

The man's grip on his wrist slackens slowly before he lets go completely. There's nothing physically wrong with him, even if the Batter was wearing a long sleeve underneath his baseball uniform, there's no sign of blood or anything to indicate he's hurt. All of this is just in his head.

But he still reaches out, one hand and then the other. And then...

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow way up high,
And the dream that you dare to, why oh, why can't I?

Can't I...?

He draws back, out of Ren's reach.]

I can't.

[He just can't.]

[There was another man who lost the will to reach out long ago and solidifies the point in her mind, that it's definitely Seto who should be here, with his hands outstretched towards this guy. Because Seto could make him see there's a rainbow and it's easy to obtain.

But in her own childish way, she can be stubborn and her hands don't fall back to her side. They stay up, the way they are, and the only thing she does is hold them higher to show how simple the action is.]

It won't hurt. You can hold them out like this-

[Won't hurt like whatever invisible entity affixed itself to his hand. Not like what's making him draw away from her like he's scared, though she has a feeling he fears little around him. The other people on the island held so much courage in them, traversing through dangerous caves like it was nothing. Staying down below even when word of monsters spread. A terrifying realization that made her realize she wasn't half as strong as the people around her.

And they didn't come back, because they were brave. They didn't fear monsters like she did. Some might have died because they were too courageous and found no reason to stop exploring. Others hid down there and were lost for a long time. Some came out, weary but uninjured. Some were injured. But the common denominator among them all, the guy in front of her included, is that they were brave. Are brave. They didn't run back to the camp or try to leave those monsters behind. They fought. Like Seto would have.

And it's why she almost asks-

What about me is scary?

Enough to make him recoil from her the way Seto had all those months ago. But that's not the point. She doesn't need him to touch her-to come near her-she just has to make him see.]

You can do it. You're brave. That's something people like you can do.

[Especially if someone like her can manage this easy task. She takes a step back from him, flexing her fingers to show it doesn't hurt, and holds them up again.

Hold out your hands you bean.]

[No, Seto can't help him. What the Batter wants is beyond the rainbow.

You'd lose him for good if he came to help with that.

But it's true that the Batter doesn't fear much. Perhaps that was a positive in a sea of negatives when it came to fighting but it left the man blind to the fears others may experience. He was not an optimist, however, so it would be likely that he'd be useless in comforting others. The last two times the Batter had...

It ended poorly, to say the least.

And Ren says he's brave and the Batter has to fight off a sudden, unknown urge to laugh. Something rusted and old clawing its way out of his throat and bringing light to all the times the Batter had laughed and pushed away from himself.

It's not bravery Ren. It's holding onto a purpose, because once you let go of it you lose your reason to exist. And once that's gone, once you have no self and nothing but your thoughts and eroding memories and nothing but time...you end it. He can't put a word to what that end is but the Batter knows he wants it. A final snap of his story closing.

...but here he is still. But here he is and even if the Batter isn't 'here' like he was with Hugo, he still continued to exist. He still continued to move and exist in front of a girl who was showing nothing but kindness over festering wounds she did not know how to heal. The Batter has no idea of what Ren's life experiences were beyond her interest in sleep and waking up. He didn't really know anything about her or the others here.

Yet irony is clear as day. The Batter was being comforted by a child. It's...hard. He can't explain it, except by thinking back.

"From now on, there will be no more darkness."

Was that what she was trying to offer, without the use of violence?]

...I'll try.

[And bridge the gap, for once. The Batter holds out his hands.]

Edited 2017-12-09 04:45 (UTC)

[With that, she looks content. She couldn't-wouldn't-have blamed him if he was too scared to hold his hands up. She would've found another way to express what she wants because she gets being afraid more than anything else in this world. But he makes an attempt for her and does a good job.

A great job.

Could she have done the same, in his position? If the roles were reversed, would she have trusted him enough to hold out her hands? She can't be sure. But-

Her own hands lower and she kneels by the pile on the ground, scooping up as many shells as she can between her two hands. It's not a huge pile and she manages to get most of them in the first attempt.

What follows isn't a magic trick or a healing spell. There isn't anything special in what she's doing. In fact, it's identical to what she had done earlier, when she dropped the first seashell into his hand. When she tried to show him the ocean's special treasure hidden under mounds of sand. Only this time, there's a method to her seashell madness and it becomes apparent by the time the second shell touches his palm.

If he lets her, she continues on until the supply in her grubby hands runs out. The final result will look pathetic, honestly, but an attempt was made. She did her best, really. The full seashell color scale isn't available to her. It would take more than a day to find the variety needed for a true rainbow, but she hopes the image comes across. It's clear as day to her-the red tinted shells lined up by his fingertips and the darker colors further down, lined up by his palms.]

Now you can see it all the time. If you hold your hands up-

[He can see a literal seashell rainbow right in his hands. Who's the dumbest child on the island?? This girl. Kill her batter.]

You can find this rainbow whenever you want. It can-[What'd he say?]-'be like that'?

[There isn't much that can physically hurt the Batter.

Between his ability to heal himself, Luck Tickets and Jokers and the Add-Ons, the only real way the Batter would die before his quest was completed would be the Puppeteer giving up before it ended. And they didn't.

And once the world ended there was nothing to regret.

And yet his heart was being seized by something, twisted and pulled no matter how many times the Batter told himself he was fine. He was fine, he could continue, he could move on. He could press down on everything and keep it away because it was easier to do so rather then sort through the pieces.

He looks down at his hands and the seashells in them. Ren is right, she can't capture the full colors of the rainbow with them but the idea comes across. Maybe crayons would help, putting lines of colors across each shell and they could line them all up with the idealization of a child's imagination and

They scream "Pity us!" as the world crumbles to pieces in his hands, as he sees it rot and the desire for white wells up within the ████ and he needs to help. He needs help. H--

No. Stop. Please stop. He's not sure what kind of expression he's making.]

...I don't know.

[The Batter really doesn't know.]

October Aftermath: Crystal Clear

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cw for mild suicidal ideation

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