lifeaftr | June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

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June Aftermath: Magic Lantern Strange

JUNE AFTERMATH: MAGIC LANTERN STRANGE

Who: Everyone!
What: A celebration!
When: Evening of June 21st, and well into morning
Where: Ensō, E3 and E4
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Slide the Light Off You
As promised, the evening of the 21st finds the Jormun hosting a party on Ensō's largest beachfront. Near immediately, it should be clear that they've spared absolutely no expense when it comes to showing their story-walker brethren a good time.

Of course, they may also be...showing off a little.

The stalls and comfortable seating supplied around multiple firepits appears to be a mishmash of Jormun built contraptions and items requested from the Storyteller- many may be delighted to see the variety of beach cushions and blankets, items the Jormun will be happy to let their story-walker friends take home at the end of the festivities. A veritable smorgasbord of food and drink is also readily available, from the kid-friendly options of brrshavak (a spicy drink with a taste akin to liquified chili pepper) and molkavarr (a rich chocolaty broth) to the alcoholic rakvrhak (a rich wine that tastes oddly plumlike). Do be warned, however, that the last is incredibly potent.

Large slabs of driftwood have been laid out to form impromptu tables, bristling with the Jormun's culinary expertise: fried squid, seaweed wraps, spicy pickled kelp, kebabs of roasted eel, hard-boiled snapling eggs, and so on. The vegetables and meats of the sea have been laid out for all to enjoy, so tuck in!

Throughout the evening the air will be filled with the sound of music, with multiple Jormun eager to show off their skill in instrumentation. Conch-shell horns, carved driftwood flutes, urchin-needle harps, and countless more contraptions engineered by a deep sea-dwelling people fill the air with the most peculiar but nonetheless not unpleasant sound. Most of the bands will be set up in the shallow waters, however, as their instruments are not made to be used in open air - try playing them above the surface of the water at your own risk.

Of course, there's plenty more to entertain even the most difficult of people.

You're Living the Strobe Light
Those interested in proving their strength and skill will be encouraged to enter one of the many tournaments across the shoreline. The tournaments vary, featuring such challenges as play fights with the schlacknorkcvic to prove who is the greatest warrior, timed events to see who can stay on a bucking tigershark for the longest, and even a tourney of brovonkosshk, a board game somewhat similar to chess. Don't see anything you're interested in? Make your own. If you can think it, the Jormun will happily accommodate it - impromptu challenges are the highlight of such evenings, after all, though the Jormun won't be taking any responsibility for the first poor soul that decides to usher in a drinking contest.

A small variety of walker games are also available. Jormun children are more than eager to play such games as hide-and-seek or red light, green light, while Connor Murphy will be bringing his Cards Against Humanity deck, for those ready to completely screw with the idea of a fourth wall. There's even a game of Spin the Bottle... except the bottle is being spun overhead like a mace. Being hit by said bottle requires you to do a stupidly ridiculous task, so perhaps it's best to avoid that particular adaptation...

And of course, there's the lightshow.

As mentioned previously, the main show of the evening is the show of brssticca: bursts of magical light beneath the water that will put any fireworks show to shame. The lights are safe to wade and swim through, do keep in mind that the phosphorescent algae tends to cling to the skin. And should you reach into those spiraling, fluorescent nebulae of patterns beneath the surface, some of the configurations of light may abruptly shatter like broken glass.

Additionally, skilled Jormun will be happy to assist those who care to dress up for the event with intricate applications of shellivthiss - a style of waterproof body paint that is not only bright, but luminescent. Something the Jormun may forget to mention, however, is how similar shellivthiss is to henna; should you decide to get all dolled up, except to shine bright light a diamond for weeks to come.

Lastly, those who wanted to bring their own adventures are welcome to as well! Supplying some dope roast? Bringing those sweet, sweet greens? Have some alcohol to supply? All is welcomed by the Jormun - and undoubtedly, your fellow adventurers as well.

You May Find Some Peace
Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the OOC Event Post, which has details regarding the event timeline!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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[He barely knows how to play this instrument, let alone an actual song from it, but he's done enough to crush her little dreams thus far, hasn't he? He stares at the instrument that he doesn't so much as know a name to, laying slack in his lap, and...]

[It takes him a few moments of careful picking, sorting the chords out by ear, but eventually he manages a simple progression.]

[The song probably isn't familiar to her, but he remembers hearing it on the radio now and then.]

[For a second, she wonders if he'll do it.

But then he starts to pick at it, play a few notes and she starts to hear the base of some kind of melody. It's catchy and within a few seconds, she's humming along to a song. Tim might pick up her own quiet lyrics at various points while playing, like dope treasure water and cool sideburns and prophecy cats.

Hell yeah.]

[He hasn’t figured out much besides the refrain, so he loops it a couple times until the music peters out and loses its momentum.]

You could look into becoming a lyricist. [Maybe he’s joking. Maybe not.]

[Don't encourage her!! Only the most underground of indie bands would hire her for lyrics and they'd never make it to the big leagues. She's holding this imaginary band down.

Not that she knows what that word means, but she can decipher lyrics and lyricist go hand in hand. That works.]

Can I be a 'lyricist' when you play? Can we do that together?

Sure, if you want. It means I write the music, and you write the words that go to it.

[Why is he talking like they're starting a band. They are not starting a band. He will not, under any circumstances, be performing on the islands in the way he did in that dreamworld. That is not him, and it is not happening.]

[They already have music class together, so why not add this new level of excitement? It's another way she can spend time with him and singing-

Well, she loves to sing.]

I can't write all the words I know, but I'll sing them. It'll be like that.

Get someone to write them down for you, maybe. Have a brainstorm session.

[He won't pretend he's any good at that kind of thing - off-the-cuff composition, putting words to paper. He's not that guy. Jay was that guy, in the false memory he doesn't belong to and doesn't dwell on. Maybe that's what script supervisor translated into, in his mind: a lyricist.]

[Spelling isn't exactly her forte, but there are smart people all over the place to rely on. Someone's bound to know the words she can't figure out on her own, even if most people write differently than her to begin with. ]

I can ask-

[Someone at camp? They all know spells. Makes sense spelling would be up their ally too.]

Taako's very smart. I think he can spell too. He might 'brainstorm' with me.

That's the spirit.

[First he gives her a flute, then he teaches her that writing words to songs is an actual occupation. The elves probably hate his guts pretty fucking thoroughly by now. Or they should.]

[He clears his throat slightly, dropping his stare back to the instrument in his lap.]

You been...okay? Since...uh, since that whole thing with the dreams?

[He owes them big time. She's gaining new hobbies at lightspeed, but at what cost?? Everyone's sleep?? Tragedia.

Her ideal reality was essentially island: the definitive edition. All she did was return to the source of that world. Outside of the altercation with someone she treasured and causing another she cared about to relive terrible memories, for the sake of saving her-it wasn't great. And she's been hesitant to go near one person since then, but-]

Yes, I'm okay. I'm still very happy. [Pause] Are you happy too? Right now?

Those dreams didn't bother you?

[Maybe it's different, if she's a kid. Maybe she knows how to bounce back. Or maybe she's capable of the same thing he is; smoothing a mantle of something considerably more composed than one is in principle over the screaming existential mass beneath.]

[God, but he hopes not.]

No. It doesn't change anything.

[She's still sick! She's still gonna lose her family someday! A terrifying thought that was nonexistent in the dream and hard to ignore in reality, though she's sure trying.]

It was a place to hide and now it's gone. That's all.

[So, like, you know. It's whatever. She learned some new songs, was an elf for awhile and got to break some windows. Not a bad ride.]

[Maybe it’s just...easier, when you’re that young. You can dismiss things as temporary. It’s like playing a game of Anywhere But Here, and eventually you return to reality: there is no Anywhere. There’s only Here.]

[A brief respite. A place to hide. And then...nothing.]

You got off Ziziphus all right and everything?

[...dumb. Dumb question. Clearly she did, because she’s here now.]

Seto helped me. And I can run and hide. I know how to do that.

[No need to worry about her and whatever daily escapades she goes on. It's fine. She's not going to loiter anywhere dangerous for more than .01 seconds, if she can help it.]

Does your arm still hurt? Are you okay?

My -

[He’ll admit it: it takes him a minute. She’s probably just returning the favor, but that doesn’t mean he’s not grateful that she’s making the effort. If he was actually good at expressing that, maybe she’d even get that impression.]

Yeah, it’s...that was months ago, kid. It’s fine.

[The injury being months ago doesn't mean it healed correctly or that he doesn't feel a lingering pain from it. The experiments would hurt, sometimes, long after they had finished.

But he's strong. There probably isn't much that could keep him down for long.]

If it hurts again, you can say that kind of thing to me. 'Ren, my arm hurts' and 'Ren, my heart is tired'-I'll help you.

[Help how?????? That's the mystery to the special, unlimited time offer. It probably involves trash, though. That's fine.]

Oh yeah? How you gonna do that?

[He sounds almost - ]

[Well, no. He would have to possess a sense of humor to be amused. He’d have to be the sort of person who can laugh at anything, and not make it a strained endeavor.]

[Way to call her tf out, Tim. She takes this job seriously, even if her answer is dumb.]

I'll hold your hand and hide you and count out your medicine for you.

[One, two, three-she can count. And then call someone on The LupNet for actual help if he needs it.]

Then I can tuck you in and you can sleep until you feel better.

[That's how it is, then. You take your pills, and they're multipurpose - fix everything, from dislocated shoulders to broken legs to gagging your own blood out from the back of your throat.]

That'll fix it all right up, huh?

[Tuck you in.]

[She says it like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like he'd know exactly how that is.]

It makes it easier. It hurts less.

[It's not a cure. It helps. She can't claim to do much, but looking after this kindhearted man who escaped his fate is something she wants to do. He has Chara and their sibling-she's just offering her unique backup services in their absence or if he feels lonely.]

When someone's heart reaches yours, it feels better. I'll try to do that for you.

Probably best you don't try that.

[The memory is still too raw, whenever he revisits it: two souls brought into collusion, the tenor of Chara's thoughts crashing up against his own with meteoric impact and leaving them both straining, burning alive beneath the nuclear weight of two tones of twisting, spooling, unbearable - ]

[He glances out at the waves, one hand curling into a fist over his chest, as though that might shield his heart.]

My heart's kinda on the heavier side.

[Heavier is an association she understands in an instant. It's heavier because he was hurt. Because he was alone. Because he was stuck in a lab, a hospital, for years and years, until he escaped. Until he was strong enough to find a way out and continue living.

Even if he still has to rely on the pills she hoped he didn't need to see a future that looks so bright when she stares at him. She's felt the weight of hopelessness and anger in the scientists-heard the seething pain of a man she feared and understands what heavy means. How the negativity and anger and sadness can force you down. Drown you.

She holds out both hands, fully expecting him to not take them, but offering it all the same.]

That's okay. That kind of thing can make you very sad and hurt a lot-I know about things like that.

[But when someone's there to hold your hand when your vision fails. When they're by your side, no matter how sick you get. When they don't give up on you, even when you run and run-it's better. Feels warmer. Heals the bits and pieces of her she didn't notice were breaking up, until he grabbed her hand.

Until she put flowers in her hair.

Until he let her be someone else.

Until they made flower crowns together.

Until they blew bubbles until the sun went down.

Until he said her heart was pretty.

Until he became her anchor.]

I want to reach you.

[How do you explain this to a child, when he couldn't have understood it when he was her age? Maybe because she's smarter than he was at that point; it isn't hard to be. But all the same - that bleedover of the nightmares in his head to someone else's isn't something he'd wish on anyone else.]

It's not something anyone should get near, kid. It's like if you get...sick. Really sick, and it spreads.

[It's not a perfect metaphor by far, but how else is he supposed to explain it?]

It shouldn't spread.

[She wants to say it doesn't matter. If it's the same kind of disease coursing through her body, then it won't change anything. She can't fathom any illness beyond the one that destroyed her world. But the way he's talking-it must be something else. Worse? Something that attacks your heart and makes it heavy instead of messed up.]

Does it hurt you?

[Does it matter?]

[He shrugs, a vague lift of his shoulders. The water here should scare him, but it doesn't. It's too abstracted by its suspected additional properties, the way it constrains them and fritzes their electronics beyond repair. It's not like choking in nameless rivers, clawing to reach the surface only to vomit up mouthfuls of your own blood.]

I've lived with it for my entire life. I can keep living with it.

[But he'll die before he willingly, knowingly spreads it - It - to someone else.]

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