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 )

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[When Tim's out of sight, she patiently waits on that floor for about a minute. Maybe two. The point is, she did her best, and as the room starts to empty out with the most of the patrons heading home or to whatever other venues are going on in this small town, she starts to explore.

It's not a big space, so she really just hobbles around to the stage, sits on the edge, gets bored, pops back down, gets back up, hurries off the side and-

Well, the age honored tradition of etching your name into walls and floors when someone isn't looking seems to be a habit she's fully embraced. On the side of the stage, she writes a quick 'Ren' and doodles a small cat face next to it. Right into the wall. Incredible.

And that bit of vandalism ends just as Tim comes back into view. She wasn't doing anything, don't look at her pen? It's fine.]

It's okay because you came back. [That's the important part!! She doesn't have to be alone.] This place is fun, so it didn't feel like a long time.

[Honestly, if he notices it, he doesn't find it very objectionable. A name signed by a cat face is far less offensive than most of the shit he tends to see coloring the walls of venues like this one; which is to say, it's vastly preferable to yet another iteration of TRAVIS SUCKS COCK, or whatever the kids think it's funny to scribble onto the walls these days.]

Yeah? What were you doing?

[He, uh...notices the pen now.]

I wrote my name so you wouldn't forget.

[Because this might be the last time they can have a one on one conversation like this! He's a busy musician, living his best music life, and while she plans to come to every single show until her dying day, gobbling up every CD with her allowance money like the heathen she is, she doesn't know if he'll have time to speak to her. Names are easy to forget, Tim!!! Don't 4get hers. ]

["Ren," with a cat face.]

[It's...cute, really. God, she really is young. She was perfectly content to just wander down the streets all on her own? Where are her parents? Did they allow this? Jesus christ.]

Ren, huh? That's your name?

[She's fine. It's whatever. All she cares about is this band-that's the entire focus of her young life anyway. Who needs parents?? She can take rides from strangers and get midnight cake. This is the best life.]

Yes, it has three letters, like 'Tim' so you won't forget.

[She distinctly remembers drawing two characters for her name, instead of using three letters, but this is Alabama and that's a dumb thought. Three letters it is.]

It's easy.

[It’s easy. He can remember. He can remember just fine, because this isn’t a universe where Timothy Wright has woken with weeks bled out of his skull, blinking against the pressure of a headache comprised of everything he can’t remember. This isn’t a universe where Timothy Wright occasionally squints because he cannot remember his own name. This isn’t that universe.]

[So why does he feel like he should write the name down somewhere, in case he forgets?]

[A shake of his head. It doesn’t matter.]

Pretty name. [Is that...is that all he meant to say? No - ]

You ready to go?

[It's hard for her to believe it's pretty. It's just a name-one she was given from some people-

Who she doesn't see anymore? She's going to a different home, maybe? This is going to be a rough car ride that's for sure. It's easy to find her way home from the sidewalks, almost like second nature, but now that she has to think up directions without being about to rely on chalk cats, it gets tough.

But, oh well! Time to go! She starts walking towards the door, ready for their incredible adventure.]

Yes, we'll go 'home'. To that place.

[Thank god. Tim waves his bandmates farewell, fishing his keys from the pocket of his jeans. He holds the door open for her and starts scouring the parking lot and its wash of orange streetlights for his car.]

[He flicks the button, and a car chirps somewhat distantly. He thrusts his hands back into his pockets and begins to walk.]

What's your address?

[Well, he had to go and ask that. Somehow it didn't occur to her that he would. Like she thought there would be some time-maybe she could fiddle with the car radio first and find a nice song. What's your address? Uh.]

It's a house over there.

[She points vaguely in the direction her house is definitely in, quickly moving towards the sound the chirping car. She seems super excited to go for a ride and not too concerned about this whole address thing, so let's go!!]

Do you...know your address?

[He's starting to sound concerned. Is he about to let a strange girl into his car and drive her to a house he's no longer sure even exists? This is serial killer behavior. This is - ]

[~~Maybe because he is a killer.~~]

[He shakes the thought aside like dusting cobwebs off a shelf. It doesn't ripple off him easily; it clings, like an oil-slick to skin.]

[She knows it by the way the houses look on her block, the color of the mailbox and by the ridiculous amount of drawings on the sidewalk in front of it. Not so much the actual address. It's always been like that. Even if she can't recall her home fully at this time, she's confident it'll come to her as they drive-hope he filled up at the gas station beforehand.]

Not the numbers or the words. [So, no.] But I'll know it's my house when I see the flowers in the yard.

[Oh boy.]

[He really hopes he's not potentially setting himself up to be detained by trying to do the right thing. He crooks the car door open and peers inside, clears the assorted detritus from the passenger seat with a hasty sweep of his arm before stepping back and holding the door out for her.]

All right. I...guess we'll just have to keep an eye out.

[God willing.]

[This is awesome.

She practically jumps into the passenger's side, immediately sitting on her knees in a very unsafe position to get a glimpse of the backseat to see what's going on behind the scenes. Is there music stuff? Papers? Old soda cans? She's gotta know. While he's worried about dealing with the law, she's fighting back surges of excitement because she's in Tim's car. Who else can say that? Well, probably his bandmates. But no one else-she's so lucky.

Safety is priority number 2, clearly, as she spins back around, ignoring the seatbelt in favor of looking around somemore. Glancing between the seats, at the cupholder, even opening the glove compartment box to see what treasures that holds. Not that she's gonna keep them-she's just checking for posterity.]

Do you like to drive? Do you listen to music? Do you speed?

[There is, perhaps, a slight overhaul of garbage in the back seat: plastic bags and crumpled-up receipts, used-up water bottles and crushed soda cans. A pile of instruments in cases. An orphaned maraca underneath the front seat. It's a disaster zone.]

Uh...not really, yes, and no, never.

[He starts the car up with the stutter of a chugging motor, then stops.]

Seatbelt?

[Naturally the maraca is what she finds, accidentally kicking it when she's getting herself situated and it stops her, mid belt buckling, because that's more important than safety. Is the regret setting in? Should've let her walk home. His car wouldn't be under such scrutiny if he had.

She gives it a little shake, in case he didn't hear her buckle click-now they're ready to go.]

Do you listen to your music in the car?

[Do they have a secret CD? A track she's never heard? Please show her.]

I, uh. I don't really listen to my music, actually.

[Heresy? Maybe. He just hears it enough when they're practicing and performing, so he doesn't need to really hear - more of it, so much. He double-checks to ensure she's secured.]

I'm just gonna drive 'till you see where you live. Okay?

Okay.

[Maybe the planets will align, the correct path will open up to him in a blaze of glory and he can free himself of the hell sitting in the passenger seat. She offers vague directions like maybe this way and that way and by a gold star and turn by the pink cat.

All the while humming her favorite song by his band, occasionally shaking the little maraca. Move aside HGTV-they're the real house hunters now.]

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Exploration Event: Neverwere

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