lifeaftr | November Intro: Red Sun Rises Like an Early Warning

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November Intro: Red Sun Rises Like an Early Warning

INTRO LOG: NOVEMBER

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

The New Arrivals: Hold My Hand
When you wake, it will be to the lapping of waves, frothed with foam...pulling at your hair, your skin, your clothing. The sand is soft and wet beneath you, but it's several inches submerged. And the longer you stay here, the more obvious it will be that the water level of the ocean ringing this strip of island has begun to to rise, and not merely because the tide has started to come in.

And what's more? You can tell that something else about this entire situation is horribly, horribly wrong.

Perhaps you've lost some special power. Perhaps some piece of your memory is freshly and disconcertingly blank. Perhaps you've just discovered that one of your senses is missing, or that you've been rendered unable to speak, or you've been struck by a debilitating fatigue. Not only are you stranded in some unfamiliar place, stuck on a rapidly flooding beach, but you aren't even doing it in full possession of all your faculties.

For those who agreed to put themselves at a disadvantage for a stranger, these are your consequences. If you're unclear as to the handicap your character has been assigned, if any, please check your initial acceptance notice!

All new arrivals will additionally awake with knapsacks, their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can also be found in your acceptance notices!

For All: It's a Long Way Down
The water isn't a problem for the newest arrivals, either. It seems that the waters all over Ensō have started to rise, slowly at first, and then with a steadily increasing rate. At first, you might be forgiven for assuming the tide must simply be unusually high, or maybe that the island's begun to sink. But the longer it endures, the more obvious it becomes that neither is the case.

The water has begun to rise. Something is wrong with the island itself, or the being living on it, and now there is nothing preventing the water's inexorable approach as it steadily washes over and over the mainland. In fact, if you listen closely, you might even be able to hear a peculiar sound tearing over the cold rush of the coastal wind; something akin to a desolate wailing.

Either get to high ground - and quickly - or find out what's causing this. But either way, we suggest you hurry...because there are a great deal of newly arrived, very disoriented folk on the beach that could really, really use your help.

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that 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.

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!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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[The tome lies open in the dirt. There's the ragged edges of a torn-out page, possibly several, dug into the spine, and the jackal angles their head away from the perversion with another coarse, choked-out sound of dismay.]

[But something of her question seems to penetrate their consciousness, because eventually the Storyteller raises their head and looks directly at her, unblinking, their canid eyes glazed.]

I'm sorry. I'm...

[For what may be the first time in a very long time, words fail them.]

[Words fail them.]

[And they bow their head in shame.]

Does this have to do with the caves?

[Just saying the word makes her mouth dry with anxiety.]

[The jackal's head dips sharply, their eyes stitching shut with a breathy gust of air that almost counts for a sigh.]

None of this was meant to have happened. None of it. [One paw scores a line in the dirt in a brief, repetitive motion, and then another. It's plain from the dusted clawmarks driven into the soil that this is not the first time they've resorted to the anxious, distressed tic of movement.]

Hey, it's okay. We're all alive and out now, right? I'm definitely not mad. [Rattled by her experience, but really none the worse for wear.] I can't imagine too many people are anything but grateful that you could pull us out when shit got rough.

The scope of our failure -

[An abrupt halt of their words is uncharacteristic, particularly for them, the eternally loquacious, the perpetually verbal, with thousands of lifetimes of languages at their disposal. To say that they are at a loss for words would be incorrect.]

[It is not a loss of words. It is simply an inconsolable limitation of them. Incapable of fully communicating all that they must.]

[They revise their answer.]

The scope of my failure is...beyond what I have ever dreamed.

...So what's the part you aren't telling me? Unexpected consequence?

All of it. All of it was never meant to have happened.

[They tore the page from the book, as if by doing so that might eradicate the narrative that has been stitched into the island's subterranean depths. As if that might ease away the pain inflicted upon every living soul that journeyed there.]

[It will never be enough. The jackal's flanks heave once, twice.

All of it, sequelae that never should have come to pass.

[Seq...seque...fuck it.]

[Gobbet sighs and plops herself down beside the jackal. She tilts her head in thought and after a long silence, speaks her mind.]

It was pretty fucked up what happened down there, but I know I forgive you for it. You didn't know. You brought us back in the end. You could have sealed it off forever with us still inside and called it a day. Would have been rid of a whole island full of pests. But you keep taking care of us, best you can. So, thanks.

[Something about her speech, contrary to her intent, seems to lever itself deeply into the cavity of the jackal's chest, deep in the sparking center of them. A faint breeze stirs at the land surrounding, lifting the shreds of torn pages. They swirl like dead leaves in a gale, disconsolate.]

I never should have.

I never should have.

Look.

[Gobbet sighs, brushing the dirt from her hands on her pants. She leans forward and looks directly into the jackal's eyes. For once, she is not offering up a half-smile or a lazy grin. For once, she seems sincere. Her honesty will likely come across harshly, but she means them no ill will.]

Sinking the island isn't going to undo what was done. Regret's not going to do jack for you. Forgive yourself and learn a lesson for next time, it's all you can do now.

I'm not sinking...

[They trail off abruptly, and the wind whistling over their heads, snapping at the trees and sending the leaves fluttering out across the salt-soaked beaches, dies for a moment.]

...the water. Of course. Yes.

[Another slow, dragging breath of air, something ragged and slow and bracing and approximating a wheezing inhalation, and the jackal's paws press a little firmer into the dirt.]

I confess - I'd not realized.

Yeah, dwelling on mistakes kind of blocks out the rest of the world. It's a bad way to live, I.M.O. Like walking with your eyes shut in a busy street.

[Part of her wants to pat the jackal reassuringly. The other part of her feels like touching a god without being invited to do so is a good way to get cursed. Or at least bit. Gobbet sits on her hands to prevent temptation from winning out.]

You keep the water from swallowing up the island, don't you?

Yes.

[The word is nearly silent, almost breathless.]

I do. I must. [The jackal's head bows; for a moment, it may seem absurd to say it, but they seem acutely ashamed.] In my regret, I have neglected the present danger.

Is the water like. It's own entity? Or is the island just naturally below sea level?

Yes.

[An answer breathed to both questions, no less.]

I must...it requires active maintenance, at all times. If I allow my attention to slip, even for a second... [And the words drift away as they concentrate anew. It's time to start easing the floodwaters back.]

[Gobbet watches the jackal for a few moments without saying anything. Something in her gut tells her that if she asks for clarification, she'll only get more frustratingly vague answers. So instead, she pushes herself to her feet, dusting the dirt from her hands on her pants.]

Well, I'll leave you to it then. Just remember: Don't let one mistake turn into two. They have a habit of multiplying real fast if you let them.

[As she begins to take a step away, the ork pauses and looks over her shoulder. While she rarely takes things seriously, all matters involving gods and god-like entities are an exception to that rule. Again, she decides honesty is in order and speaks her mind.]

You're alright, ST. I know some of the others don't really trust you, but I do. And I like to think I've got a knack for only trusting the trustworthy.

[There is still guilt there. Guilt, yes - remorse, wholly and completely, weighing their head, laid flat across their shoulders like the heft and volume of lead. She calls them all right and counsels them with advice, as if anything they've done in their recent history deserves that.]

You did not deserve the death I forced upon you, Gobbet.

[But their focus has begun to sharpen anew, pressing at the tides rising at the sands It will take time, but within a manner of days, the island will once again be in balance.]

[All things begin anew, after all.]

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November Intro: Red Sun Rises Like an Early Warning

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