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

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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 )

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I know. [Problem is, they don't care. Would run him through without qualm as Tim begged for them to stop if that's what it would take to make him heal.

But such frantic thoughts freeze as Tim's finger brush over their ear in a clumsy gesture-much like the rest of them. We can go, he says, words slurred with pain. Wherever you- if you want to. It's okay, Chara. We're right here.

You must stay determined.

In their last days, she- both of them, became fond of such motions. Brushing hair away from feverish skin as if they could brush away their illness, too; push aside any distress they were feeling. It's a mother's touch, tears staining the fur of her cheeks. A father's touch, voice gravelly from lack of sleep.

Not a human touch. Not- not a touch they expected or necessarily wanted, but they sniff and swallow and turn their head to press their cheek into his plam anyway, just for a moment. This is all just a bad dream...]

Lup. [Chara chokes out. Sitting upright, they catch his hand before it falls, slowly resting it against the ground.] Her friend Magnus, he's- he could carry you.

[Easily, they're certain.]

[There's no amount of apologies that will soothe this, that will smooth away that they, once again, have had to take care of him. Pick him up and dust him off after his failures caught up with him. Small hands catching his own, lowering his arm to the grass. It's sticky, warm to the touch, softened with the soup of his insides and his rot.]

[The magic of this world that cracked him open like a geode and bled him out and left a child, a child who has far too much to contend with on any given day and even more so now, to pick up the pieces. As always.]

Okay.

[I thought you'd have learned by now; there is very little I would not do for you.]

[It's more words than he's capable of, at the moment. Try and be a comfort, when you're not in the position to be comforting. When you've been opened across the middle and your lungs are slabs of half-drowned meat, wheezing in the collapsing cavity of your chest.]

He's...he's strong. Could do it.

I'm sure he can. Just- rest, Tim. For a few minutes. [They're not about to leave him on his own, not for a second- even if that means letting him hear their voice quietly crack as they speak of his injuries to Lup, as they quietly admit to needing help.

They're sorry, Tim. They're not strong enough, or experienced enough, to handle this one on their own. Almost in apology, they let their hand drop to his, curling their fingers over his palm.

They're not strong enough, or experienced enough- but they're here. They're staying right here, Tim. They won't go away.]

'M sorry.

[For making you see this. Making you live through this. No one should have to - god, he only had to watch it the one time, played in repeat, and it tore him apart by the seams, ripped him asunder as he screamed his soul out in dark hotel rooms and pressed the butts of his palms to his eyes with heat leaking out from behind clenched lids, and he wasn't the one doing it he wasn't the one who pulled that trigger and if he could barely endure the one how much stronger must they be than him to have lived through all they have and here he is making them live through more.]

[What a sorry, wasteful thing to say.]

You're a good kid. [He's trying to move his mouth to form something more than that, and doesn't quite manage it.] 'Kay.

[They're a little too preoccupied to respond to the first word. Lup's voice is only slightly muffled by a tightly clenched fist; too close not to be distinguishable. Is he conscious?

Sort of, they think. Aware of their presence; aware enough to apologize for- this. For being an inconvenience, for- whatever it is Tim feels he needs to be sorry for. You're a good kid, he says, and Chara has to close their eyes, lowering the stone away from their lips. You're not supposed to argue with injured people; something they've never felt the urge to comply with before. Even for him, when they'd come across him battling the effects of an overdose.

And yet it's different now. Chara almost feels- foolish, to allow themself to be gripped with a fear of hurting him, just by...breathing wrong, or something. He's not that fragile.]

...There's nothing to apologize for. [They want to- reach over. Fiddle with his jacket until they're sure he's covered properly, find something he can rest his head on. Instead, they squeeze his hand.

Neither of them is particularly good at being honest, but they do hope he understands that their words, this time, are genuine.] Didn't I just tell you to rest?

I'm already lying down.

[Has to fight back the urge to...laugh, at that one, because he's pretty sure that instinct can't be his. He doesn't laugh, typically. When he does, it's always weary, empty, uncommitted. You're not pointing a gun at me, either, says a man whose jacket is once again soaking in red, draped down across his front, and a ragged sound of a hoarse rasp of bitter amusement.]

[Who does that belong to? It was from before he even knew that a Castle in the Mist could exist, let alone that he would find himself in the midst of it.]

Don't be smart. [They try and fail to smile, too tense for even that much.] Lup says if you don't "chill", she'll have Magnus punch you once you're well again.

And then I'd have to kill him. I don't want to do that, Tim. Lup and Magnus undoubtedly wouldn't appreciate it, either. [So maybe chill and avoid this unfortunate juncture.]

[Witty remarks about death and dying. This is the closest they come to a rapport. The parts of his brain that would ordinarily be gearing up to issue some kind of smart retort have dedicate themselves to informing him, repeatedly and with great enthusiasm, just how much he should be dying, even if he isn't really dying.]

[The blood loss has made him dizzy. Giddy with longing and with an ache, marrow-deep, something removed from the conch of his opened rib cage. Though that could simply be the way he's begun to decouple from himself, ever so slightly, the euphoria of numbness seeing to it that he drifts a few inches to the left and no longer needs to feel it in full force.]

[Remember the taste of the words on his tongue: Love you too.]

[Or maybe that's just the taste of liquid iron, flooding his lungs.]

Y'know, you're...you're really something.

[A squeeze in his chest.]

[Know this: saying it aloud will ease that pressure, if only incrementally.]

Someone who - p-picks people like me up off the ground.

Don't.

[An immediate, thoughtless response. Something that doesn't so much wear into a pained note as begins within it, entirely submerged. They are not a demon capable of picking people up off the ground. They aren't- not like--]
They weren't a demon people picked up, either. Just restrained, when necessary.

...Lup is coming. [They eventually continue, voice quiet.] She and Magnus will be capable of assisting you, not me.

[They're not Sans, Tim. There's no sudden ability to find when pushed hard enough, no urge to carry entire first-aid kits in their ribcage, just in case. All they have are knives and bandages; things not often intended for use on other people.

Even Tim wasn't deluded enough to think they were that capable of kindness.]

Edited 2018-07-25 11:40 (UTC)

What do you think you've been doing?

[It's a cracked whisper, pained and faint, but everything else is so drenched in the silence that he's not sure it matters. There are distant noises - distant shouts, angry cries. People waking up with too many strange things playing havoc with the placement of their limbs.]

[Right here, everything else is drowned out. He can't hear over the rush of blood to his head - over the focus he needs to eke out to concentrate on forming the right words.]

I'm just calling the right people.

[That's really all there is to it, Tim. Stop trying to read into it. Stop wasting energy you don't have to waste. They'd knock him out to stop him from continuing to experience this talking if they weren't afraid the additional trauma really would kill him.]

You need to rest, Tim. Not argue with me.

[He's fading fast - not in the permanent sense (it never is), but in the sort of way that lapses his concentration, that makes it difficult to pick apart the silhouettes that no longer sharpen into shapes he can recognize. Red against the blur of Chara's face.]

...'kay.

[Just for a minute. Just for a minute.]

[He just needs to - ]

'M proud of you.

[A sharp intake of breath- and silence. They're certain he doesn't notice; Tim's expression is still pained, but his fingers go lax around their hand. He's out of it, not to be woken until Lup and Magnus' arrival. He deserves that much. Doesn't need to see this. Doesn't need to feel it.

M'proud of you.

It's not fair. It's not fair, for him to say things like this. To fall asleep before they can even gather the words to respond. It's cheating. Tim is-- cheating.]

Idiot. [Chara mutters quietly. They stare down at him, lips pursed. Their chest

Hurts.

But all they can do right now is- hold his hand a little tighter. And wait.]

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May Intro: We're Going Down, Down

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