lifeaftr | January Event: Setting Fire to the Sky

Entry tags:

January Event: Setting Fire to the Sky

JANUARY EVENT: SETTING FIRE TO THE SKY

Who: Everyone!
What: The sun dies, and the creatures of the night emerge from the depths
When: January 21st - January 28th
Where: Everywhere! Ensō, Monsun, Chol, and the Islets
Warnings: Character death, possible body horror and violence. Please mark any additional warnings as needed!

So We Can Take the World Back From the Heart-Attacked

The night of the 21st, the sun begins to dim. It dips in the horizon, sinks to nestle itself in the center of Chol like a star falling in slow motion, where it begins to smolder quietly - massive, smoking, and hot, like a massive egg. The night grows colder, the sky reduced to an inky black. The surface of the surrounding water is still but for the occasional ripple, the odd, strangely subdued wave, with not even the hollow lights of distant stars to glint off its reflective waves.

The Jormun gather around the sunken, dying sun with their scaled hands on their weapons, their expressions grim. They fan out across the island of Chol with arms in hand. Their fortifications have settled around the island's center in a dense ball of bristling weapons. They have been preparing for this. They are ready to fight.

Are you?

No island is safe. From the well-trodden mainland of Ensō and its islets to the stark dichotomy of Monsun to the craggy shores of Chol, all manner of strange things have begun to haul themselves, dripping, from the watery dark.

No more preparation. No more running.

From here on out, it is fight or die.

One Maniac At a Time, We Will Take It Back

As the Storyteller has promised, there is sanctuary in their temple on Ensō, which will keep out the worst of the creatures. It will not, however, protect characters from the cold and dark, and so they will have to keep themselves warm some other way.

The Jormun fight fiercely, but they do not fight alone. Aside from the help that the willing of your number have offered, you may glimpse the Storyteller battling alongside the rest in a flurry of strange, shifting animal shapes: a heavy-antlered reindeer, a shrieking owl with outstretched talons, a slavering grizzly bear with the Storyteller's signature tome strapped across a broad, furry back, to name but a few. Those creatures that the Storyteller defeats will burst into a flurry of paper and dark, spattering ink, rather than being felled in the conventional manner. How odd.

As this is an event with a high risk of death, the Storyteller will impose death penalties for one week only. However, deaths succumbed during the event will count towards the character's total.

Then I'll Raise You Like a Phoenix

Come the sunrise on the 28th, the sun will launch itself into the air with a victorious shriek, its wings trailing plumes of fire behind it. The phoenix takes flight, reborn from the ashes.

The shores of Chol are littered with corpses, both shadowy and scaled, along with an even smattering of crumpled paper and splotched inkstains. Despite the triumph of the fight, it did not come without its costs. The Jormun gather their dead and prepare to mourn them quietly. Those who perished in the fight will not see the sunrise from this unique perspective, watching the murk of the night tint to soft, milky yellow and pink, and then to a glorious new day.

Munin will greet the survivors with a mixture of solemnity and relief, thanking them profusely for their help. There is not much more that her people can offer you, at this point - they must grieve their dead, and she must return to the sea to prove that she has cemented her worth as a leader in the eyes of the other Jormun - but that does not mean that your stories will part forever.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] January 20th: Monthly Storytelling occurs as usual
[ ♆ ] January 21st: The dark arrives, the temperature drops further, and the first hostile creatures begin their assault
[ ♆ ] January 28th: The dark ends and the sun rises
[ ♆ ] January 30th: Those who perished are revived, suffering from a reduced death penalty

Event Specifics

[ ♆ ] If you have any questions, feel free to look over our OOC Info Post.
[ ♆ ] Feel free to make your own logs if necessary!
[ ♆ ] If your character perishes in this event, please let us know!
[ ♆ ] Item trades with the Jormun can be found on the OOC plotting post here! Even if you were only recently accepted, you are free to participate!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's okay. I'm not scary. I won't sting you.

[Stinging isn't a capability she has, but she looks to her extended hand and pulls it back to wipe off any residual rock or dirt that might have been stuck to it. That could feel like a sting, maybe? She's not sure.

The creature's description is terrifying enough. She can't imagine being face to face with one, like this kid clearly was. She tries to scan his face, his body-anything, but he's too hunched up for her to see any potential injuries with her own two eyes.]

Did it hurt you?

[A nod, a shuddering breath. He’s not going to die. Not again. He’s already died. It isn’t fair for him to have this, to be alive, only for it to be stolen away again. It isn’t fair. He already beat this. He already lived past his expiration date. Now he finally gets a second chance, and it’s being stolen out from under him?]

[It isn’t fair.]

A goat saved me. He had fire.

[It explains why he's alone over here, like a cat. The injury might have scared him-made him feel cold and alone. While she doesn't have the first aid expertise to offer any additional help, she makes a mental note to watch him for the next few hours. She's silent as she takes in his words about strange goats, attempting to stand on her tiptoes to get a better view of any blood that might stain his clothes right now. He seems shaken and it's hard to tell whether it's from fear or because he's still bleeding somewhere.

She can't remember what goats look like, but if she sees a weird animal wandering around, she'll give him some cat food. It's the least she can do for that good fire goat.

And because she's equipped with garbage and not fire, she drops her bag in front of her and starts to pull out her dirty little flower yukata.]

This won't sting you either. It's a treasure-you can cover up with this thing.

[A stare. Why’s she sticking around? He made her scared, last time they talked. Mocked her, teased her, terrified her with fictional stories about monsters that didn’t exist. Only it turns out there are monsters after all, huh? Bad ones and good ones both.]

[He’s pretty sure this isn’t a monster. Just...the kid with the cat and the gullible nature that was so easy to prey upon.]

[He peers at the thing warily, uncertain. He’s not hurt in any visible sense, though the cold still wracks his body. He really should consider a coat.]

What is it?

It was a dress. I think that's what it was.

[That's how she wore it, mimicking the overturned mannequins and whatever pictures remain plastered on the walls of that city. It's surprisingly long and it opens up like a robe-it needs a tie to be used as an outfit and that's lost at the bottom of her bag anyway. The dress is given a quick pat down to make sure none of her treasures are hiding in its sleeves before she holds it out to him.]

Now it's a blanket [Pause] Or a cape, if you're sad.

[She seems real. But so did Muffet, until she wasn't. Until her skin went strange and dark, and she melted into something else. They're supposed to be safe here, but he was supposed to be safe with her, too, and that didn't happen the way it was supposed to.]

[Still, he - he doesn't want to get near. Doesn't want to get close enough to touch.]

What if you're trying to forget?

[That question makes her falter and she pulls the dress back towards her. She can sympathize with that-a scary monster almost drags you into the darkness, that's a memory you'd want to push away.

And Ren's not the kind of person that thinks conquering your fears is best-at least not alone. If he wants to forget, she doesn't mind being a facilitator of that.]

You hide.

[She holds the dress above her head and lets it drop so it covers her whole body. Congratulations, you're talking to ghost Ren now. Cut a couple eye holes and it would be a great halloween costume.]

It does that too-this thing can help you forget.

[Is that all it takes to forget?]

[Did they need that electric current fixed to Mom’s brain at all, when it was always going to be that easy? Just cover up the pain, bandage the wound, amputate the injury, and let it be forgotten?]

[...can’t be. Can’t be that simple.]

Memories are stronger than that. Smarter than that.

[He's not wrong. There's only so much you can do when it's in your head, waiting to come out the second your mind wanders.

But it's comfortable. It's warm and nice and dark in a way that's not scary. She pulls up the front of the fabric, so he can see her face, instead of having to talk her dollar store ghost form.]

Do you want to try?

[Because she can't deny what he says. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't, but she always feels better when she's hiding.]

You can stay under here and I'll make sure no one sees you.

[Stupid. It's stupid that the offer makes him feel like he should cry. It's small and simple and silly, like a blanket fort on a stormy night. Pretending that if you can't see it, it can't hurt you. He's not so stupid that he'd assume that's the case. He's not. He's not stupid.]

[But it's still...it's better than being like this, surely. Scared. Cold.]

...it won't change anything. It won't change what's out there.

[That's the grown-up perspective. Stolen, no doubt, from the heads of people like Mom and Dad, who could simultaneously be so wise and so blind to the ghost in their own home.]

[It won't change anything-She remembers saying those exact words to Seto, once, when she needed to soothe him because he was scared.

Maybe she was a little scared too, back then.]

I know.

[Because it doesn't. The ghosts will be there, diseases will eat away at you and hiding can't solve that. Still, she points to her head-]

But it changes something-here?

[And then lowers her hand and places it over her heart.]

And here. It helps by doing that. It makes those things better for awhile.

[It makes you feel better. Wouldn't that be good? Wouldn't that be nice, compared to this - this trembling, this realization that you're just ordinary, and mortal, and scared? He's only been scared of one thing in his life, and it wasn't even really in his life; he died before he could conceptualize what it was to truly be afraid of something.]

[It was only after then that he learned how to fear being let go.]

[Always at the mercy of other people, and never in control of his own life. Not even now.]

[What's the point in pretending to be grown-up about it? When does that fix anything?]

...you promise?

[It's weird to be on the receiving end of that question and, for the first time, she understands the weight behind those words. If something goes wrong and he doesn't find comfort under the folds of this blanket, she's responsible for it. And yet-]

I promise.

[Because even if it doesn't, she'll find a way to make it work. She'll grab more blankets, find a better place to hide him, or take his hand so he can grasp onto something until the world feels okay again. In one quick motion, she pulls the blanket off her body and holds it out towards him.]

Do you want me to put this thing over you? I can 'tuck you in'.

You're not Mom.

[The words choke. She's not Mom. She's too small, and young, and Mom was safe and the most important, most significant person in his entire life, and she's just a kid. A kid, like him.]

...do you have one?

A mom?

[It's hard to grasp what he means-is that something only moms can do? The way his voice falters makes her wonder. She's done it often enough with her cat, fluffing blankets around his body during these cold nights. Maybe it's different with people.

She looks down to the dress, resigns to let it drape over him instead of folding the edges around him, when-]

People like me don't have things like that.

[She doesn't sound sad. It's matter of fact-sky's blue and little Rens don't have moms, but they have aunts and uncles.]

I won't tuck you in if it makes your heart sad.

Everyone has a mom.

[That seems to sharpen him somewhat. Unconsciously, he ends up clenching the edges of the dress, dragging it tighter around himself like a blanket, his focus now wholly devoted to peering at her with a fierce, unblinking intensity.]

Everyone has one. Sometimes moms don't have you - but you have them.

[I don't is what nearly follows that statement. There were no moms hidden under the white lab coats. They weren't supposed to have them, so it never occurred to her she could have one regardless-that some moms don't have you? But you have them?

It makes no sense and she meets his stare, like she's trying to get the answer by looking into his eyes. As usual, it doesn't work.

The only solace she can take from this weird line of questioning is that he's distracted from monsters and wrapped up in that blanket. So that's good??]

Is it [Pause] Do you find someone and say they're your 'mom'? Is that how it is?

Not just someone. My mom. Mine.

[How does she not know what a mom is? She’s - everyone has one. You can’t be born without one. Any if they forget you, it’s the worst feeling in the world, worse than anything, worse than anything at all. You can’t live without them. You can’t live without that broken memory holding you together.]

I’m her favorite. Everyone knows it. She loves me most, even if Dad pretends I’m not there.

[Look, she believes him. He's the favorite and his mom loves him the most of all in, what she assumes, is his family? Does he have a whole one? Just like in the stories?

Something about his declaration bothers her though. She knows what it's like to have someone ignore you, even when you're standing right beside them-how it hurts when they can't hear a thing you say.]

Did your Dad make you feel very lonely?

He and - my sister, too. They hate me.

[It's said sullenly, but even that can't fully score away the ache of longing pinned beneath, the specter of wistfulness; how badly and completely he wants it, wants them, wants them all to just see him and love him the way Mom does, and even Mom can only love him incompletely. Even Mom can only love him in pieces, in memories, in fragments, in dreams.]

[Even Mom forgets.]

They wanted me gone.

[She doesn't get it and without that understanding, she doesn't know what to say. Her heart aches knowing his family-they hated him? For no reason she can discern. All except for his mom, who loved him most of all. It would hurt to know that, to feel it, to see it in their eyes when they looked at him. It's sad. Too sad. Painfully sad because it's so different from the happy families she saw in storybooks and framed on the walls of destroyed houses. ]

Why?

'Cause Mom loved me. She loved me, and they wanted her to stop. They wanted her to love them instead, and forget all about me.

[As if love is a commodity. As if love is in short supply, and needs to be pieced out like dollar bills, like morsels to the starving. But if she stopped, if she stopped thinking about him, stopped loving him, then he really would be gone.]

[Just like he was, after they made her forget.]

[Ren doesn't know much about families outside of what she's learned on the fly from watching the elves and listening to people talk about the worlds they left behind, but that doesn't fit what she knows.

And it makes her sad. Because she doesn't know what to say to him or how to make it better. Doesn't get why part of his family wouldn't love him and want his mom to stop. She wants to tuck in the dress around him or cover him with another blanket so he feels extra hidden. Somehow, she doesn't think that's going to help.]

That's sad.

[She's not great at this, my friend.]

Do you want to hold my hand? You can squeeze it really tight.

[Will that help??? Maybe??]

[It's quiet, and small, and simple. Just...it's sad. She's right. It's sad, and there's no fixing it, really. The cut, the burn, the break - it was never in her brain or in her blood, but in her soul, and he was still alive once more, surging through her neurons with a triumphant cry, but not for long.]

[Not for long, at all.]

[An offer to hold a hand is about all he can expect a child to put forth. But it's enough, for him, it's more than enough, because it's another reminder.]

[A reminder that he's real.]

[He grabs it and squeezes without further instruction, screwing his eyes shut.]

I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive...

[The comforts she can offer him are so minimal and small compared to what the numerous others here could. She doesn't have the worlds to make him feel better-doesn't have anything beyond the treasures in her bag and hand she can't even claim is warm with the cold weather surrounding them. It's nothing and yet-

So she's grateful he took it. Happy to feel him squeeze it and tightens her grip in turn. It's okay is what she wants to say, but doesn't want to interrupt the mantra he's telling himself because it could be his way of hiding. She does that too, sometimes.

But if hands and dresses and treasures are all she has, then she'll do the best she can with them.

Using the trick Guzma taught her, she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, hoping that silent gesture might help. It's okay peanut. Just keep hiding.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

January Event: Setting Fire to the Sky

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject