lifeaftr | May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

INTRO LOG: MAY

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: May 4th and onward
Where: Ensō...and above
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Floating Islet: And Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging
While new arrivals may generally be expected at this time of the month, one factor that has continuously failed to maintain consistency is their point of arrival. And indeed, it appears that this month has once again exceeded even the Storyteller's expectations as to where arrivals may take their first steps on this world.

Those who were with us in February will most certainly remember the floating islands hovering far, far above the mainland. While they currently remain inaccessible, they are still steadily floating overhead, shifting appearance as if made of the clouds themselves. And so while waking up on top of the world may be a surprise, at the very least new arrivals will have a bird's eye view of Ensō to enjoy for a time...until they take notice of a rather sinking sensation.

In fact, that sensation would be the island itself, starting to sink out of the sky.

So that's nice.

On a crash course for the ground at F6, the Storyteller will eventually slow the island's progress to the ground below, though a rather profound impact is, simply put, inevitable. Characters with the ability of flight will find the island skimming low enough to reach on their own. Others may wish to utilize their resourcefulness to find an alternate means down.

Or, perhaps, you'll simply deal with whatever awaits you at the crash site.

F6 and Beyond: In An Earlier Round
Thankfully, the Storyteller's intervention will ensure that no one still on the not-so-floating island upon impact will escape with minor injuries at worst, the island itself crumbling to pieces and taking down more than a few thick trees. The pieces of the island will very quickly begin to blacken, crumbling underfoot as the floating island turns to dust. Anyone still aboard may wish to make a very quick departure.

The ripples of this impact, however, are far more significant than two pieces of land bumping up against one another.

Previously, visitors to the floating islands may have experienced some...oddities, during their time above the clouds. For the next few days, these oddities will spread across Ensō itself, leading to some rather awkward scenarios:

[ ♆ ] Some may find their weapons are... behaving oddly, though all are still functional. Weapons, in this instance, may also include fisticuffs, if the intent is to use your fists as a weapon.

[ ♆ ] Equally as irritating are those who find themselves coming down with a severe case of NPCitus: periods of time in which they find themselves incapable of saying more than one or two lines of the same, repetitive dialogue.

[ ♆ ] Equal parts nostalgic and irritating for some are the instances of lag (walking forwards, only to find oneself back where they started), Swimmer's Ear (incapable of movement unless swimming through the air), and clipping (suddenly stuck halfway through the nearest rock are all common, regrettable side-effects).

[ ♆ ] Other unfortunate side-effects may also transpire, as varied and wild as one's imagination.

Though many of these may be hindering or even dangerous in the right situations, they are, for the most part, passive. The Storyteller will assure anyone who asks that these oddities will disappear in the next few days.

You are free to create or utilize glitches you are particularly fond of, though keep in mind that any potential content warnings should be mentioned in your toplevel! You may peruse some of the past glitches here, or create your own along those lines! And a special thanks to our local Donn-mun, Jake (

venesection), for the first glitch on the list!

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

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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's a lot he should say to that - would, if he had the wherewithal to form words that didn't scrape up against his vocal cords, because you never really realize how much of your body is constantly working, how many organs are grinding up against each other to perform literally every function that keeps you alive, until half of them are on the verge are spilling right on out of you. It's at that point that even speaking becomes a trial in and of itself, when the thick walls of meat and muscle and skin have been stripped away and leave a seething morass of glistening pink.]

[Each breath has started to gurgle.]

C -

[That's the furthest he gets.]

[Shouto is panicking, sitting here in a state of shock and dismay, and if Tim just up and dies here, that'd be a...a hell of a thing to inflict upon a kid who, by all accounts, has been through more than enough.]

[The sound that breaks past the cut edge of his gritted teeth is hoarse and agonized when he braces his good hand into the grass, flexes his undamaged palm, and viciously presses it into the ground, levering himself onto his side so he can cough out a spray of clotted blood and stomach acid instead of suffocating on it.]

[The good is that he's no longer being smothered by his own bodily fluids.]

[The bad news is that the rest of him has, predictably, started to tumble out of the gaping opening in his middle.]

[Trying to calm down was - it was almost successful. He had been so close to pushing aside all of the fear and panic to focus. He had been so close to clear his head, to focus on helping.

And then things go from bad to worse. Tim's guts are barely recognizable but undeniable - there's nothing else that would be falling out of him, even though everything is so mangled and destroyed they barely look like organs.

And it's all his fault.

If he hadn't tried to help, hadn't tried to help Tim move, he wouldn't be spilling out like this. He wouldn't be in even more pain.

(He would be dying anyways, but if Shouto hadn't tried to help would he be suffering as much as he is now?)

He reaches out, stomach churning at the feeling of - well. The feeling of Tim's stomach. Putting everything back where they belong won't help, won't change anything, but he doesn't know what else to do.]

[There's no easy goddamn way to articulate anything of what he wants to relay. Things like: Relax. I'm not dying. If I were dying, I'd already be dead. Things like: I've probably had worse. Don't worry about it. Things like: It's not your fault.]

[Or the other thing: It's not on you to fix this.]

[But there's a hand trying to...oh god, trying to force the reddened lips of uncurled flesh back into the cracked-open eggshell of his abdomen, and the sound he makes is strangled and unavoidable, his ruined hand snapping up to clamp onto Shouto's shoulder, pinioning it with a split-second arched-finger injection of pure, agonized adrenaline - the sound of someone screaming, compressed down into one spasmodic motion.]

'S - okay. [And his grip slides away, much like his stare, once boiling molten with the searing fucking white-cloud phosphorous of static pain that is his side, now falling rapidly out of focus.]

[Words, half-mumbled, but nonetheless sincere:]

'M not dying.

What?

[He's at least no so far gone in the panic he doesn't notice Tim talking. The tunnel widens, just a bit, and he's startled enough by Tim claiming he's not dying he pulls back.

Just a little, because even if Tim says he's not dying - even if, despite falling to pieces he can talk, when it shouldn't be possible at all - he doesn't believe that. The damage is so extensive and so impossible that he won't just get better.

But, fine. It's not okay but it's enough of a reassurance to get Shouto to focus.]

We still need to get you somewhere safer.

[His hand is covered in blood, but he's not bothered by it. He doesn't notice it at all, yet.]

[That’s the point he’s relying on, actually: the fact that the damage is so complete and so severe that there’s no way he should still be conscious. But he is, even if he’s pretty sure he’s never had to think through this kind of pain, this visceral fucking end result of being disembowled by a floating island that decided to crash land in the center of Ensō.]

[But Shouto’s not wrong, either. He’d nod if he could, buddy.]

Th...islet. It does st-stuff to people.

[He tries gesturing with his good hand, but it’s shaking too hard.]

[He’s making a mess. Getting himself all over the kid’s hands and clothes. For some reason, that strikes him as particularly egregious.]

[God. Just- fucking god. At least Tim is talking, now, is aware of what's going on around him.

The jittery buzzing under his skin seems to slip away, and he wipes the blood on his hand off on his pants. He's quiet, for a moment, trying to come up with a plan of action. He's sure he could support Tim's weight, but he's not sure he could carry him...

And walking seems out of the question.]

So if we get you away from the islet, you'll get better.

[He pulls back into a crouch, taking a deep breath. Now that there's a plan of action, vague as it is, he can claw back some focus. He can figure out what to do. He's been trained for maybe not this, but he's been trained to help.]

How do we do that?

[How do we do that?]

[He’s a rust-red oily smear across the grass and across the front of Shouto’s pants, a dark starfish of splotched maroon where he wiped the blood from his hand. He should be figuring this out. Pulling himself upright. Not dumping his sizable weight onto the shoulders of a fucking kid who’s having a hard enough time keeping to together as it is.]

[The liquid gurgle in his lungs when he breathes isn’t a good sign. None of this is.]

I can - move. Just need to... [Block it up. Keep the rest of him from slopping onto the grass.] M’pack. Do I...where’s it?

[Lying a few feet away, in fact. Just out of his line of sight.]

May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject