lifeaftr | Exploration Event: Neverwere

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Exploration Event: Neverwere

EXPLORATION EVENT: NEVERWERE

Who: Everyone!
What: Your wildest dreams come true!
When: May 15th to May 18th
Where: Ziziphus, those still on Ensō...and Mu
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Then Know That My Life Was Just a Killer Dream
You can find most of the information you need in the OOC info post! In the meantime, feel free to use this log as a catch-all for your dream worlds, as well as detailing your efforts to free one another. Whether they're on Ziziphus or Ensō at the time of the dreams' capture, your character is free to access as many dreams as you like, as the interlocking mental landscape allows for that sort of crossing over apropos of nothing. And time, of course, is very fluid in dreams - many days, months, and years can transpire in a matter of mere minutes.

Will you fight your way free from Ziziphus's vines or Mu's thrall, or are you content to die in your sleep?

Remember to let us know if your character dies during this event!

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] May 15th: The vines make their move, ensnaring characters in ideal fantasy worlds
[ ♆ ] May 17th: The Storyteller will make contact with those they can, as well as issue information and a potential solution
[ ♆ ] May 18th: Those that have not freed themselves from the vines or from Mu will suffer a death

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[For some reason, the suddenness of being accosted makes him jump - a bleeding edge or paranoia leaking into the head of someone who’s never had to look over his shoulder. He recognizes her, of course. Who wouldn’t, with that silvery hair of hers? But something else nags underneath, something he can’t or won’t put a name to.]

[He smiles faintly, opting to ignore. Can’t be that important, whatever it is. He shrugs, wipes his hands on his jeans, and nods.]

That’s, uh...that’s me. Hi, um - hi?

[Somewhere in this Alabamareality, she has disappointed parents who probably tried to teach her not to sneak up on people like that. Probably.

Being face to face with him feels like a dream. They aren't a huge band-they don't play shows that sell out or have audiences that span across huge concert domes, but it's cool she gets to talk to him like this and-]

Can you write 'Tim' on this pick?

[The coveted item is carefully taken out of her pocket, held towards him in the palm of her hand.]

That way it'll be a treasure.

Are you...asking for my...uh. Autograph?

[Yeah, give him a sec, here. He's not autograph-worthy, is he? He never...he never has been. It simply never occurred to him that this could be the case. He's struck silent for several long moments as he looks from the pick to her earnest, eager face, and then...]

[Well, he. He can't exactly say "no," now, can he?]

...sure. Yeah. Okay. Um. Do you have a - let me get a -

[He's. Gonna hunt for a pen now.]

[For some reason, she didn't think no would come out of his mouth. It never felt like an option on the table and because of that, she's prepared to empty the contents of her modern au garbage bag on the ground and wow, how lucky! There's a glittery gel pen, among other things. Look at all this garbage.

But hey, there you go Tim. A pen. And she doesn't seem to mind all her junk on the dirty ground. Her eyes are on him and little pick she wants signed.]

I always try to see your shows.

[For months? Years? What a mystery.]

On the days I can't, I'll look at this and it'll feel like I'm here.

You...you do?

[They have a fan? A - consistent fan? Oh god, that's like something that legitimate bands have.]

[Still, the kid is young. Is she here by herself? Did her parents bring her? Did she sneak out? There's a million questions lining up at the edge of his tongue with no neat way to ask, so he settles instead for accepting the gel pen, swiping at his hand a few times to get the ink running, and scribbling a shaky, sloppy T.W. across the pick.]

You, uh...your parents bring you here, kiddo?

[That's a good q, Tim and one that should be easy to answer with a quick they drive me here or they work nearby, but none of them sound like the truth, somehow.

How does she get here? She ran today-from the school? It's not that far away, is it? Weird. Somehow aunt and uncle come to mind before parents and all she can do is answer with a-]

I think so? They have to.

[She answers without much thought and the confusion on her face disappears as she verbalizes it. That's totally what happens.]

They know it's important to see you. I like to hear your music.

[She thinks so? Tim pauses, pen still poised over pick, to scrutinize her with a mixture of open bemusement and apparent concern.]

How’d they - do they not know you’re here? [My god this isn’t okay. He can’t be condoning the running away of little girls from parents to watch things like concerts. Oh jesus.]

Kid, please tell me they know you’re here.

[Teenage rebellion is normal and this is one of the safer places to run off to. Either way, someone's aware because she knows they're having roast for dinner. Which she could only find out from talking to-parents? An aunt? An uncle? Old man Alabama?]

They know.

[Her answer is meant to appease him, while she tries to ignore the gap in her memory and the gross smell-this is fine.]

I'll bring someone with me next time. Then we'll watch you together.

[The lack of specificity is bothering him, to be sure, but at least she answers, and...okay. Good. She's here alone, and she won't be here alone next time, and that's the important thing. Tim blows out a soft huff of a sigh in evident relief, and hands her pen and pick.]

[Surely that's...the end of it. Right?]

Okay. Good. We always play safe spaces, but...probably shouldn't hang around places like this all on your own. Yeah?

[Who cares about parents and guardians when she's got his autograph?? Pen and pick back in her grubby little fingers, she starts to shove all the items from the floor into her bag without much thought. What's even in here? Who knows.]

This is your favorite place to play, isn't it? I've seen you here a lot.

[P....robably.]

W - uh. We...no?

[No, right? He glances up, surveying the area, squinting, trying to figure out if they've actually played this joint before. He genuinely can't remember. Surely they don't get booked for that many gigs? Or maybe his memory is just...shit? Has it always been shit?]

[After a moment, it occurs to him that he's been frowning at the middle distance for entirely too long, and should probably think of something to say.]

I guess it, uh, all kinda blends together after a while.

[Maybe it does, who is she to say? She would've thought the band liked it in this area, given the times she's seen them happily play their sets, but maybe she's mistaken. It's not like her memory's clear right now. She must be tired from all that running around.]

Are you going to play here tomorrow?

I, uh -

[He...wow. He doesn't know his own band's schedule. That's pretty crappy of him, huh? He scratches his nose in an attempt to stall the inevitable admission that he doesn't actually know, shooting a look in Jay's direction as though quietly beseeching his help.]

[Jay doesn't notice, and help never comes.]

I don't think so, kiddo. Sorry.

[That's disappointing. Asking seemed like the best method to figure out their band schedule, instead of using-what? A bulletin board? A weird rock? Just showing up and hoping for the best?

That sucks.]

I want to see you again. [Weh] Are you going to play here in June?

I’ll see if I can work something out. The guys that own this place probably wouldn’t mind it.

[God help him, he has literally no idea if they’re playing in June at all. Why the hell can’t he remember his own band’s damn schedule?]

You...need a ride home or something, buddy?

[The whole point of her asking about June was because she has a specific date in mind-the 19th. It's weird. She fully expected him to say yes, to have it be on or near that day, because she associates it so strongly with him. She thought it was because they played that day every year. Weird.]

It's okay. I can walk under the lights so nothing scary will get me. I'm going to get cake first.

[Which is on the way? Maybe? It's fine. There's a grocery store, somewhere.]

I'll bring some back to this place, so you can eat it when you play again.

[What's better than stale cake?? Nothing.]

Seriously?

[She wants to walk home, alone, in the middle of the night in Alabama? The thought looks, very reasonably, like it fills him with utter horror. Leaving aside the non sequitur of cake - cake? - he stares at the kid, looking...more than a little bit aghast.]

You - you don't have anyone you can walk home with? Nothing like that?

I think everyone's asleep.

[Or not with her, in any case. Coming here despite knowing she has to walk home alone shows her dedication to the band, obviously. Remember her and give her front row seats at the bigger venues.]

So it's okay. I know how to listen for weird noises and run very fast.

Kid, there’s no way I’m letting you walk home alone in the summer in Alabama.

[Seriously, fuck this!!! He’s not gonna let this kid hoof it while people try to shoot beer cans off of fence posts, which is a thing he knows for a fact tends to happen on Friday nights. It is Friday, right? Hell if he knows.]

I will drive you home myself if you don’t have anyone else. Okay?

[She would be foolish to turn down a ride a second time from someone she idolizes so much. It means she can't make a late night grocery store stop, but that's fine. If he's going to be with her, that's worth more than a slice of dessert.]

Okay, we'll go together. I'm good at finding my way home, so it won't take a long time.

[Especially if they're driving. She lives...around? Yeah, she's confident she'll find it going at mach vehicle speed.]

Good. Good, okay. Just...gimme a minute, and I'll finish packing up.

[The assurance that he'll be making sure their tiniest fan gets home safe loosens a coil of something taut around his chest, an invisible line garroted over his lungs.]

I'll be right back, okay?

[He's gonna turn his back on her and she's gonna get distracted by something shiny, that's the honest truth. That trash can is looking mighty full and there's something glittering in it. Could be glass, could also be a treasure.

But first-]

I can help you 'pack' up. That's something I can do.

[Ah. Well. That's...Tim glances at one of the amps, and figures that it's maybe two-thirds the kid's height. While the mental image of her trying to hoist one all on her own is something to behold, he's pretty sure she'd end up hurting herself.]

Most of these instruments are...pretty heavy and stuff. It's okay. You just...you can sit tight and we'll finish up real quick, okay?

[She's tough!! She's strong!! She can pitch like the wind!!

But it's also a good thing he keeps her away from the expensive music equipment. She can't pick that up and a strong desire to help doesn't make her physically stronger, so.

Fine, she'll wait.]

Okay, I'll sit here.

Thanks, kid.

[It’s not until he’s boosting an amp into the back of Gladio’s car that it occurs to him that he’d been far more persistent than might be typical or even fucking required of him. It’s not necessarily his business that the kid likes walking home from concerts. So why’s he give a damn?]

[Chara, he tells himself. It’s the same instinct that drove him to them. Has to be.]

[He takes brisk inventory, claps Jay companionably on the shoulder, and heads back to his tiniest fan.]

Sorry. Didn’t think it’d take long.

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