lifeaftr | June Intro: Let's Sea How Far We've Come

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June Intro: Let's Sea How Far We've Come

INTRO LOG: JUNE

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr as the island of Ziziphus begins to crumble
When: June 4th and onward
Where: Ziziphus and Ensō...and Monsun
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Ziziphus: At The Start Of The End Of The World
Since Bliss's destruction, the extensive root network they've threaded throughout every inch of the island of Ziziphus has begun to crumble. June 4th marks the beginning of the inevitable collapse of the island as it starts to sink into the sea...coincidentally coinciding with the arrival of LifeAftr's newest adventurers. Between the dead trees surrounding Bliss's empty husk, great cracks in the earth start to widen, the dead god's absent root system leaving vast gaps underground which simply cannot support the life above.

It almost sounds like thunder rupturing from the ground itself, wild tremors preceding each vicious boom until gaping chasms lay between venturing parties and the safety of the mana pool - only water waits below, for those unlucky enough to lose their footing.

And if the immense pull of mile wide chunks of landmass sinking beneath the waves isn't enough to suck you down, the heavy rain of debris from Ziziphus's rapidly destabilizing edges will certainly help. Want to avoid a watery grave? What you need to do is simple:

Escape.

Sorry, newbies. If you showed up on Ziziphus, you're in for a very athletic entrance to LifeAftr.

Monsun: Just Like Every Other Morning Before
Adventurers aren't the only creatures on Ziziphus attempting to outrun its collapse. Creatures great and small, from the largest spindlank to the smallest tigerlily will be heading south in an attempt to escape the worst of the quakes. Unlike offshore adventurers, however, these poor creatures don't have a mana pool waiting for them to escape through. Their extinction, it seems, is imminent.

Unless you have something to say about it.

Already exhausted from their attempts to get through to and then actively dispose of their fellow god, the Storyteller will break their traditional manner of communication to announce a potential solution to this problem with a single broadcast to the Stones of Far Speech in a strained, weary tone:

"The mana pools on Monsun are now open. If you are willing, save what you can."

True to their word, characters will discover that the island of Monsun will be accessible once more for a short period of time. From prey to predator, obstruction to catastrophe - multiple species of flora and fauna can still be preserved, should you choose to do so.

Be wary of the psychological effects of both sides of the island. Those who are new to our setting and wish to explore, the island of Monsun has a peculiar side effect to its stark divide: the eastern half is rich in resources, but brings out the very worst of you, while the western half is a tumultuous wasteland that accentuates your best qualities. More information on said island can be found on its entry on the Locations page, or its introductory info post.

Due to these efforts, the Storyteller will not be available for contact from the 4th to the 18th of June. Item Requests will also be unavailable at this time. They will, however, make a rather strained announcement to ensure all are aware that access to both Ziziphus and Monsun will cease on June 10th.

Ensō: I Wonder What It Means If It's Gone
The native fauna of Ziziphus aren't the only ones on the move, it seems. Those who wander the shores of Ensō will be delighted to witness the appearance of creatures akin to both turtles and dugongs drifting through the waters, gravitating around the island's eastern coast, rapidly gaining in numbers over the following days.

Kaleidoshells have been unlocked in the bestiary!

With spring close to ending in the archipelago, these peaceful creatures are looking to make good use of their natural nesting areas; hope you're open to sharing the beach for a little while. While a few braver individuals will make their way to the shores between C4 and D1 to begin digging nests, the vast majority won't be coming to shore quite yet.

They do, however, make a very fine sight around the waters of Ensō, especially in the evening. Luminescent, their rainbow patterns glow underwater, drifting mood lights for the increasingly warmer evening breeze.

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

[It's a shock to find anyone who isn't shelled in armor. Chorus had been a wreck; bombarded with chemicals and toxic fumes and filled with children of civilians who picked up weapons out of necessity, who grew up in armor, grew up learning to be ready to pick up their weapons at a moment's notice; because when the other side of a war can pulverize your buildings with tank fire in the blink of an eye, without so much as a warning siren, sometimes all you have is your armor and some luck with angles to keep you from being reduced to steaming chunks of meat.]

[This guy might not be in armor, but he's still pretty clearly a kid. Pretty clearly unarmed. Which might be hard to handle, when some fuckass in full power armor stops a few feet away, regarding him with an expression of utter puzzlement that may as well be unreadable beneath his helmet.]

What the hell are you doing?

[. . . Right, cool. Master Chief is here to murder him. This might as well happen. When has anything not this level of absurdity happened in his time on this godforsaken island.]

What does it look like I'm doing? I'm fucking cooking.

[If only.]

You're cooking. [It's said flatly, with the kind of tone he'd usually reserve for informing the Reds that stealing his tank and using it to blow holes in their own base is not fucking conducive to getting actual shit done.]

[He hasn't been here long enough yet. He can tamp down his annoyance, albeit briefly - enough to redirect it into something useful.]

...you live here?

Some people need to eat. [SHRUG] Define "here."

[He doesn't elaborate on why he'd need a definition, because he's just not in the mood to do the nice person act. He just wants to dry his fish and get off this fucking island.]

This island, this planet - whatever information you have, I need to know. Now.

[He's being about as personable as a blunt object to the face, which he presumes is a product of frustration and the stress of waking up without his team. It hasn't come to his attention that there are additional factors at work here.]

No, yes, the rabbit is real and if they're not a god then they're damn good at pretending to be one.

[Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Connor is aware that this person must be new and therefore he should be nicer. Unfortunately, he just can't. He does not have the spoons to be more forthcoming than this.

His own paranoia will probably kick in at some point, but the apathy kicked in first and he literally cannot find fucks to give about other people right now.]

That wasn't what I asked.

[He got the dream, same as everyone. And he got a lot of other dreams too. Some of them - ]

[Some of them don't bode thinking about. Not now, not ever if he can help it. Especially not in the face of some kid he doesn't know, who seems more interested in mouthing off than being useful.]

I said whatever information you have.

Or what, you're gonna shoot me? Go right the fuck ahead.

[He doesn't even manage to sound like he cares? About that? Usually he at least manages the small amount of irony that makes his nihilism a joke.]

I answered your question the same way you asked it. Be more specific if you want something specific, I don't have enough fucks left to tell you the entire history of this place from start to finish.

[Would he, at his lowest point, have done it? Shot an unarmed kid, who's done nothing but run his mouth? He put a bullet through South's skull at the commitment of logic as she growled at him, disbelieving, what're you gonna do? Shoot me - ]

[Wash exhales, and lets his weapon swing down to his side.]

No. I'm not gonna shoot an unarmed civilian. Especially if you're - what are you, seventeen?

. . . Nineteen. [Now that they know what month it is for certain, he knows that his birthday is at the end of the month and he doesn't mind rounding up for this.] I'm also not unarmed, but it's nice of you to assume that.

[Slowly enough that it's clear what he's doing, Connor reaches up under the oversized jacket he wears and unhooks his hatchet from the harness. There's another one in the bag that's half hidden behind his racks of drying fish, but he's not about to reveal all his tricks.

It's worth noting that his harness, which is briefly visible, does not contain a mechanism for covering the blade of the hatchet.]

Guns are great, but ammo doesn't last forever.

[You think guns are the only thing I've got?]

[Wash merely hums a disinterested sort of scoff to that. Better for the opposite party to think him less of a threat than he is, simply by default.]

Thanks for telling me. [It was axe that killed her. C.T. According to the post-mission reports.]

[It was Agent Texas, and it was an axe that killed her. Armor can only help you through so much.]

The last planet I was on, most of the kids there lost their parents to war, or worse. That why you're out here on your own?

[Connor snorts.]

Don't I fucking wish. No, I'm here because I'm dead - this isn't the afterlife before you ask, but it is mine.

[Normally he'd punctuate a statement like that with sarcastic jazz hands or something. On Monsun, he just sets his hatchet down next to him and throws another piece of firewood onto the fire.]

[He supposes he wouldn't be surprised, if that turned out to be the case. If he finally ended up succumbing to one thing or another. His mortality was on a timer since he agreed to uncap alien skulls for the UNSC, and it's only ever a matter of time before that number runs out.]

And you think that makes you invincible?

[It's not funny, really. It's not, but Connor laughs anyway. It's bitter and helpless, because if only. If only that's what it was.]

I think I'm invincible because I can't fucking die. I keep trying and I'm still here. Still alive.

[Were he not on Monsun, he'd know that there's reasons why he shouldn't just give the fuck up. There's people who care about him. The dream on Ziziphus had shown him that if he'd just - he could be happy. He could, if he could just find the fucking light switch in his brain that would make him remember that life isn't just being imprisoned by your own goddamn brain.

Here, he can't think of a single reason to be alive. He just wants to stop existing, wants to be free of this hellish afterlife he doesn't even want.]

You could shoot me and at this point I'd probably thank you.

I'm not that person anymore.

[He snarls it, angrier than he means it, more direct than he means it, the words that he doesn't intend to spit out souring beneath his tongue because he remembers the way she didn't believe he could do it, and that was just enough shoot gasoline in through his finger and pull the trigger and put a bullet in her goddamn skull and it was so fucking unfitting it was no kind of end for her for South Dakota who had the heart of a helljumper and should have gone out with a grenade in both hands and a grin full of blood screaming at Insurrectionist stumpfucks to suck her cock when she pulled the pins and set them all on fire - ]

[He doesn't shoot civilians.]

[Just old teammates.]

[He's breathing heavy. Shakes his head, once, twice, but the fog doesn't clear.]

So you'll have to find some other killer to do it.

It wouldn't matter if you did. The Storyteller just brings us back when we die, like we're fucking Barbies that they can keep smashing together until we break. [Connor picks at the polish on his nails. They're plain black and more ragged than he usually lets them get here because he's been idly picking at them the entire time he's been ashore.] You - you need to go.

[He can't leave yet. He still has things to do, but he's also - he's used to this. He knows how to deal with the magnification of his worst qualities because that's what his own brain does to him on a daily basis.]

If you stay here, on this half of the island, it just gets worse.

What just gets worse?

[The promise of an answer of some kind is at least pretty fucking welcome, no matter how unsettling the kid's words are. Yeah, that's exactly the kind of thing he needs to hear - the fact that he can't die, that he has never been able to die, even when it would have most suited him. Walked into Freelancer command with three things that needed doing, and he failed in every single fucking one of them.]

[He should've burned in more ways than one, and now it turns out that he literally can't. Supposedly.]

Your worst self. [Connor taps his temple.] Everything you never wanted to become, everything you try to convince yourself you aren't - you need to go to the desert.

[Your worst self.]

[He already knows his worst self. Already lives it, when he has to. He scowls beneath the helmet, tipping his visor to track the edge of the water. Presumably he could just follow that, until he reaches the desert - it's buried in the sand.]

So you figured you'd take the risk anyway, huh?

The options were I want to highkey die for a few hours while this [He gestures to his fish racks.] finishes, or my fish goes bad and I don't eat for the next three days.

[He shrugs. If he thought about it for a few seconds, he'd remember to mention the monsters waiting on the other half of the island, but this is about as helpful as he can manage.]

My ship barely made it through the coral reef, I wasn't about to try and sail it to the other half of the island.

You sailed here.

[That's more along the lines of the information he was actually searching for, and he pretty much bumped into it by accident during an antagonizing conversation with a teenager.]

...why? [He's learned the function of the mana pools by now, so the fact that someone would ostensibly avoid their use isn't entirely clear from the outset.]

Monsun appeared while I was going somewhere else and I'd already hit the coral reef, so I decided to stop and take care of the fish, at least.

[SHRUG. Now that he's here, though, he's probably going to reset by heading over to the desert and then collect some stuff to toss onto his boat and take back to Ensō. Eventually.]

And it's not at any risk of actually sinking, or anything like that? Getting torn apart by earthquakes?

[Guess who just got off Ziziphus and is very not pleased about it.]

As far as I know, the gods of this island are still alive, so no. It'll disappear, eventually, but not for at least a month.

[A month is about right, isn't it? Sometimes more, but never less.]

The only island that doesn't disappear is Ensō. It's the Storyteller's domain.

[The...right. The central one. He's still parsing the texture of his dreams. Separating what happened from what didn't. The mental image is indistinct and inexact, but it's there: a rabbit, discussing at apparent length the way things work around here.]

[Think of Connecticut. Then don't.]

You've been here for a while. [It's not a question. More an observation, ventured aloud.] Long enough to, as you tell it, die.

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cw: connor being connor

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cw: oh here's the actual suicidal ideation

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