May Intro: I'll Be Scrolling Through Your Shrine

[lifeaftr_mods]

INTRO LOG: MAY

Who: New arrivals, and you!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: May 4th and onward
Where: Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

With potentially odd dreams connecting you to people you've never met, in addition to the dream-lecture only recently received from a horned rabbit, LifeAftr surely doesn't need to try to be disconcerting upon arrival - and yet, it somehow continues to go the extra mile. While new arrivals will find themselves upon the now (mostly) safe shores of Ensō, there is one, small problem with where, precisely, they've happened to appear.

Chamber of Glyphs: It Was Written On Your Wall
Within the temple of the Storyteller, one may find a very special room. Betwixt the reality of waking and dreams, the Chamber of Glyphs appears to hold many unique features that allow it to appear wherever one may seek it, both in waking and sleep.

It is not, however, a good room to arrive within. Those seeking out the newest members of LifeAftr's adventuring party - and those who are simply looking to draw - will be greeted, upon entering the Chamber of Glyphs, with the most alarming sight. The small pile of backpacks, unattended, might be the first thing you notice, as well as the fact that they all seem to be adorned with names of those you might not know. Or the names of those that you do, but haven't seen in some time. Perhaps you met them in a dream...

And those of you who are newly arrived, you'll be able to see them searching. Unable to break the barrier between you with sound, you might feel the urge to wave your hands for attention, attracting searching eyes to the walls. Walls that you are now a part of. Hopefully this reduction to the second dimension is only temporary. Those who took part in April's Test Drive Meme may have the benefit of familiarity, for what is etched onto the walls of the Chamber are never lacking life, regardless of the matter used to draw, paint, or sketch those contents.

With maneuverability somewhat akin to a sidescroller - always left or right, up and down, but never outward - the variety of scenes, animals, places, objects, and more are simply all the more to your advantage. Leap to the vantage point necessary to be noticed, as your fellow adventurers may be able to help you out of this predicament with a simple offer of their hand to tug you off the wall. It's an easy solution to your predicament, at least! All they need to do is take your hand to free you from your two-dimensional containment.

If it proves more difficult...well, at the least they know you're there to point out thanks to a very tired Storyteller, who will be certain to let anyone in the vicinity know that you're in need of help within the Chamber of Glyphs, before one of the many, many monsters that have been scribbled onto stone lay claim to you instead.

What kind of monsters, you ask? All of them, of course.

Ensō: Rain Hell
But maybe you don't wake up written on the walls! Maybe you're just relieved to get unstuck from those walls and need a breath of fresh air. Or maybe you don't have any reason to go poking around in search of new arrivals at all. That does not mean, however, that you won't be encountering a new arrival of your own in the interim.

The sky is clouded over and gray, despite the sun overhead and the generally warm weather. The nights are filmed over with a screen of pale dust. This has little to do with the forecast and more to do with the volcanic eruption that occurred just a few weeks prior, on another island in the archipelago. You don't need to worry about the nature of the ash still drifting on the wind currents - aside from the more standard obstruction of sight and airways, it is, at this point, more or less perfectly ordinary. Though if you've got some fragile lungs, you might want to stay out of it as much as possible.

More important is the creature that the hazy cast of ash and dust has coaxed out of hiding. Perhaps you've heard of it in folklore: resplendent with dark gray, furry wings, and glistening red eyes. Or, perhaps, you're less fortunate, and you've no cultural experience regarding the strange monster known colloquially only as...Mothman. At over seven feet tall and with a wingspan of about fifteen feet, the Mothman makes for far more fearsome a sight than it does a threat. For all intents and purposes, despite the devilish red of its glowing eyes and its large, hairy stature, the Mothman is ultimately quite harmless. It does, however, tend to inspire paranoia in fear in the hearts and minds of those it encounters. And this smokescreen in the air has created the perfect environment for it to hunt.

It doesn't want your flesh, or your bones, or anything so base. It only wants your mind, in a sense; your fear and whatever primal terror it may ignite by preying on your paranoia. It will stalk you, rustling the leaves behind you, snapping twigs to your left, allowing you a glimpse of bright crimson eyes before dispersing into the surrounding, ashy murk. The good news is that once it has you scared, it has no intention of sticking around - and its wings makes it incredibly fast, when it wants to be. Anyone who attempts to attack it directly will discover just how speedy it can be, assuming that the air from its wingbeats don't end up pinning you flat to the ground from the sheer force.

The Mothman can be killed, most likely...but there are a lot of you, and only one cryptid for an entire island. It's not likely to want to stay in one place if it feels it's outnumbered, or that it's about to be attacked by someone who isn't so easily stricken by the fear and suspicion it endeavors to ignite. Those who wish to escape it can at least take heart in the fact that the Mothman abhors open spaces, largely preferring the sanctuary of woodland and greenery; all one has to do is reach Ensō's shores to be largely safe from its influence.

Though you could try killing it too, of course. If you wanted.

---

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 )

Comments

klaus hargreeves ( mostly ota )

[fourgasm]

i. chamber of glyphs (cw: there will probably be ptsd symptoms in this one yall)

[Klaus thinks that maybe, when someone named the concept of "claustrophobia", they may not have had this exact scenario in mind. But right now? He kind of almost misses the motel room closet.

Duct tape bondage included, actually.

The one benefit of not having his mouth taped shut, though, is that Klaus can at least attempt to drown out the feeling of his brain screaming at top volume (he needs to get out, he needs to breathe, he needs to excise the image of a stone slab against the pitch dark and sobbing and anger and twisting and bleeding and shaking) by using his inability to shut up ever as an anchor to focus on.]

Whose, uh, fine home is this? Gotta say, the decor is to die for, wouldn't be out of place in a catalog, honest.

[Yep, just. Keep talking to yourself, clamber onto this ledge, how are these bowling shoes still so slippery when they're two dimensional, how does that make sense, what is friction doing right now.

Klaus trips a few times in his ascent, but he makes it. Not gracefully, but it's done.

He takes a shaky breath and squints out of the wall. He thinks he sees movement...]

HEY! FIVE! I don't want to call any names, but if that's you, you really FUCKED ME OVER on this one!

[Because obviously this is just, you know, what happens when you get teleported into a wall, probably.

Fortunately for Five or anyone who was just mistaken for him, none of Klaus' yelling can actually be heard outside of the wall. Just a silently shouting little painting desperate for attention.]

ii. closed to ben

[Well, okay, that was, uh, great. Klaus is feeling really fine and dandy after all that. If he's breathing a little heavier than normal, that's probably his (and everyone's) imagination.

He's collected the knapsack with his name on it. It's been a while since he's had to backpack literally all of his belongings, mostly because his backpacks kept getting stolen. He really wishes he did shove that burrito in his pants or something, then at least he'd have more than this... pity rock candy, which he's currently picking at like it might be the last meal for a while. He's practiced at that sort of thing.

And there's a... little jug-thing that's decided to follow after him. It has the intelligence of a Roomba, or so Klaus guesses having never met a Roomba, only it's got the basic makeup of an urn or something. The major difference being that it has legs and also is very, very attached to him.

Which is nice, because he's used to being followed anyway. It's comforting, in a way. At least, when it comes down to it, this little urn thing loves him.]

I am the worst at naming things. Why couldn't you just come with a name prepackaged in? Like a Beanie Baby.

[This is extremely important and not totally a deflection from what Klaus is actually doing: double-checking all the leftover knapsacks' names stitched onto them. If there's any trace of a "Hargreeves" or a number or something, he needs to find it. He is not doing... whatever this is alone.

And Ben hasn't shown his beautiful face, which is only a little distressing.]

What about... Delilah. No, terrible. Just not evocative at all.

[The Hotpot doesn't seem that worried about the naming process, as it follows Klaus dutifully, stopping only when he stops to squint at a bag in the dark, patiently waiting for him to finish before continuing on.]

Wait, wait, wait. Perfect name incoming: Urnest.

[Klaus glances back at the pot, grinning at it like an idiot, while it just sits, unaffected. That sort of seems like acceptance, in a way. In the way that every other identical non-reaction seemed like rejection. It's amazing how humans can just see what they want to see in objects.

Ironically, at the same time, this particular human seems to have not noticed what he's been looking for from the next bag over: his brother's name clearly emblazoned into the front.]

iii. ensō

[The ash in the air is only slightly familiar, in the sense that it reminds Klaus very much, simultaneously, of 1. the moments before he jumped through time and space to arrive here, while the world was being destroyed by giant flaming moon rocks, and 2. hotboxing in his ex's bathroom. He does not remember which ex it was, which is probably a good thing, honestly. He'd rather it be a nebulous memory of a thing that happened and was somewhat enjoyable, rather than the most likely alternatives.

However, the former is starting to overtake the latter, because this smoke and ash doesn't have any good side effects. Really, all it's doing is giving him a smoker's cough, and somehow making him wish he had a cigarette despite the fact he's choking slightly, and brains are just weird, aren't they.

Thankfully, seems like there's life here outside of the weird little chamber full of cave drawings. Klaus spots someone and walks toward them, one arm over his nose and mouth and the other hailing them down. It's hard to see that many details with the leftovers of a wildfire or whatever in the air, so he's not that... discerning about who he's gonna walk up to.]

Hey, this is going to sound completely insane, but you wouldn't have to have any spare smokes would you? I'm — ["not picky," he's about to say. And then remembers he's supposed to be, ugh, sober now. He sighs before he finishes the sentence.] — partial to the nicotine variety. Not that I'd... rule anything out.

[Okay, it's a compromise. Be proud of him.]

ii.

[evergonnahaunt]

[Ben's been looking for Klaus for what seems like forever, but has probably been like ten minutes. Maybe? He's got a really bad grasp of time, having been dead for long enough that time's lost all meaning and he doesn't even know exactly how long he's been dead. Klaus doesn't tell Ben when the year changes, so Ben only ever knows that it's a new year when he manages to see the date on a newspaper or something. He doesn't actually remember what year he died, at this point, so he couldn't calculate even if he did have a better grasp of what year it is.

It doesn't matter. He can actually see Klaus now and some kind of. Ben actually doesn't know what the thing following Klaus around is, but it's fine. He can just - oh. Ben's vaguely aware that he's alive? At least he assumes the dream they had happened? But he hasn't fully grasped the consequences of being alive, so it hasn't occured to him that he can't just. Peel himself out of the wall, as usual. Because he's alive, and that's a ghost power.

So he does the next best thing, waving his arms around and trying to get Klaus' attention. He's also yelling, but given the limitations of his newfound 2D form it's just a lot of mouth movement with no sound.]

iii

[journalname]

[The figure's hulking, but the reply is mild enough.]

Oh, like tobacco? Gosh, I don't know if anything like that grows around here. [More importantly, though:] Are you feeling alright?

[The dust bothers Asgore some, but honestly more for war-related reasons than anything to do with his lungs, ha ha]

iii

[sandsister]

Don't think so.

[If Two is perturbed by anything happening around her, it doesn't show in her cheerful voice. The smoke and ash is bizarre. The weird rabbit in a dream giving her the rundown that they're the local god around these parts is even weirder, but priority number one is finding Cent, her sisters, her kids-She can deal with the rest later.

The bar of soap, some oats, a hand drill, a weird sleep bottle-that's all the contents she pulls out. Showing this guy each one. Nothing to smoke here, buddy.]

This isn't how I would pack for a vacation, but it's still pretty nice stuff. Feels like a welcome gift.

iii.

[yeenaw]

[Although it's not the one responsible for all of this god damned awful ash, there's a small campfire quietly smoking away at the edge of a small clearing in the trees. The air here is just a touch cleaner, it seems - whether because of the proximity to the temple or simply the thick canopy of leaves overhead, who knows - and next to the fire sits Arthur, who looks up at Klaus's call.]

[He's tense at first, because historically, people coming up to his fire rarely ends well. Neither does him going up to other folks' campfires. He eyes Klaus warily, hand planted on his knee where he's got his gun holstered up on his hip. Trying to figure out if this stranger is looking to give him trouble, since... well, he's already in it, looks like.]

[At his question, though, Arthur actually relaxes a little. Raises his hand and coughs into it, something sounding close to a smoker's cough of its own, and shakes his head. Addiction is a hell of a thing.]

Why? You tryin' to suffocate yourself?

iii yo

[lesbeau]

[Huh, so that guy looks like a lunatic. It's pretty much the default setting for anyone here, really-- she's had that exact thought easily once every two weeks. But this guy especially looks like he just fell charred out of an explosion and is stumbling around in the aftermath. Cool.

She blinks once, squinting just a bit before responding, as if that's gonna make any goddamn sense.]

No. Do you see a market or whatever?

[She has done so many things to find drugs here, buddy, you can't just stop at asking.]

What do you need it for, just freakin' out?

i. PTSD symptoms??? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard keeps thinking she knows what will happen on Enso whenever new arrivals come. She keeps finding, every time, that she is wrong. It would be funny if it weren't always some kind of danger that these people are in. She doesn't go the the Chamber of Glyphs that often, mostly telling her stories orally, but something compels her to come into it tonight.

Her instincts are further validated when the Storyteller, tired, harried, and looking like they need a nap, advises that well. There are people trapped on the walls. No no no, not inside the wall, on the wall. The pictures. The pictures, Shepard, they are trapped in the second dimension.

This place is fucked up. Anyway. She walks along the wall, looking at the figures moving and running to see if anyone needs a helping hand. She spots a man shouting silently from the wall and approaches.]

Hey there. Need some help getting out?

connor | ota, will match

[yourattention]

a. i picked up a pen, i wrote my own deliverance

[Connor is actually in the temple to draw, because he's peripherally aware that fourteen year old him was incredibly ornery and did not goddamn do storytelling so. He just wants to make sure the Storyteller gets something? From him? As an apology or something.

He inspects the pile of backpacks once he enters because that only means one thing and he's immediately on the alert once he realizes that something's amiss. Arter all when you're running in the walls and there's nobody around, all you want is for somebody to find you. So you know. He's come to get you.]

b. love the mothman (won't you love him?)

Shut up. You're not real.

[The words come from above, in a tree. It's fairly easy to tell where from, once you look up, because Connor is visibly sitting in a tree. He seems to be talking to someone, which is a little weird because there's clearly no one else up in the tree with him.]

Unlike you, trees are real. What do you - we're sitting in a tree. Nevermind. I'm ignoring you now.

b because, why not

[technicallytechnically]

[(muffled mouth sounds)] and [(vague noises)] sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—

[Hi, this... weird looking girl overheard this conversation, or at least part of it, and instantly inserted herself into it. She doesn't know what's going on but Jester is here to, I don't know, mediate I guess. Or at least assume she is while she inevitably makes everything worse? Who knows.]

Hey, are you talking to the Traveler? You shouldn't be rude to him, he'll really fuck you up.

[I mean, if anyone knows what talking to thin air is all about, it's Jester who does it on the regular. Obviously it's the Traveler listening in. Or another god. Maybe the Storyteller? Boooooo.]

Or if not, I have some pamphlets if you want to be talking to him! He's probably way nicer than [(muffled mouth noises, with feeling)]!

[Would you believe she's older than you, Connor.]

B

[forwearemany]

(When Legion hears a voice in the trees, their head snaps up, flaps flaring wide.)

Connor.

We were informed you had left.

(The camere like shutters around their eye close slightly. Narrowed eye?

Perhaps they are experiencing doubts as to his reality. It isn't entirely like them, but they're more than a little paranoid due to the influence of a certain cryptid.)

This data is incorrect?

ben | ota, will match

[evergonnahaunt]

a. nevermind about the shape i'm in

[He's been trying to avoid using his powers when he encounters . . . monsters? He guesses they're monsters, but they don't listen to him and he's never met monsters that don't listen to him at all. These ones definitely aren't related to the ones he's used to. Still, Ben's actively avoiding using his powers against the Spindlank he's currently up against because he doesn't like using his powers.

This would be a lot easier if someone would come save him.]

b. move your body when the sunlight dies (cw: body horror)

[As Ben struggles to fight against the Spindlank, though, he realizes that this isn't going to happen without using his powers. He doesn't have a weapon besides his own body and this thing is like ten feet tall.

Taking a deep breath, Ben pulls back the edge of the portal and lets it widen enough for the tentacles to burst from it. It hurts, his inner organs being rearranged slightly to let this happen and the way that for some reason the portal won't widen enough and that burns because the thing that lives under his skin knows that it should be able to reach farther.

It wants to seek something else out, find another monster and rip that to shreds too, but Ben physically cannot handle that, has to beg it to stop reaching at not even a quarter of the full range. The commotion calls another Spindlank up, though, and the tentacles rip that one apart too, gleeful and wild. That's the limit of what he can take, though, and the portal shudders uncertainly. The tentacles retreat and Ben wobbles before leaning against the invisible wall trapping him and letting it hold him up.

Opening the portal and letting things through has always hurt, but it's not supposed to be so difficult. It's almost like his body can't physically handle the portal bring the size he's used to being able to support. Whether that's a consequence of being alive or some other kind of screwy fuck up that comes from being in a body that's much older than he remembers being is anybody's guess. This is an unfortunate uncharted territory.

He'd really like to be rescued from inside this wall now, thanks.]

c. everybody hide your body from the mothman

[Ben's lost sight of Klaus, thanks to the ash and haze, and he's alone. It's . . . he doesn't like it. He's always been able to find someone. Even when he died, Klaus was there. Someone was there. Someone's always there, so it's not just him and the things that live under his skin.

Normally Ben would just . . . fade out and fade back in to find Klaus, but he can't do that because he's alive and not a ghost. Being alive also means that things like ash matter because now Ben has to do living people things like breathe and he's only been breathing for something like a day. It's a struggle and honestly Ben doesn't understand how people??? Cope??? With breathing???? It's hard and he hates it.

Was it this difficult to breathe, when he was alive? Ben's pretty sure it wasn't. He feels like being alive was a lot easier, the last time he did it.

Eventually, Ben just sits down and pulls his shirt up to keep the ash out of his nose and mouth. He digs through the bag that had his name on it, looking for something to more permanently filter the air. There's not really anything useful in there, but he does find a bag of candy which distracts him from his current situation.

You can find him casually eating rock candy like a gremlin, because secretly he's still like fifteen in a thirty year old body and he doesn't eat candy that often so you know. Living people eat, right? He's eating. He's a functional living person who has made the executive decision that his brother isn't totally useless and can probably take care of himself for a few hours.

. . . He has mountains of evidence that actually, the opposite? Is true? But it's also just occured to Ben that for the first time in a long time he doesn't have to hover around Klaus because other people can see him.]

b

[eudaimonikos]

[Well! That was pretty rad!

Michael hasn't quite come to the conclusion that these pictures in the wall are alive just yet. This is his first time discovering the Chamber of Glyphs at all, and the only one of these bags he's seen before was his own. Maybe some people left theirs here, or else this is where they're kept in anticipation of new arrivals, or something?

He doesn't give the bag thing a whole lot of thought, honestly, because the magic picture show is interesting! He's watching Ben closely now, waiting for him to maybe do something else neat. Hey there!]

c

[sandsister]

Oh, heeeeeey! Hey, Ben!

[From the haze, there's a bright blue mass just waving away. Can he see her? She's sure he will eventually. Not that it matters-her voice is pretty loud. Breathing might be difficult for him and, well, it's actually pretty rough for her too, though it doesn't show on her face. It's not like the ash can hurt her. She's pretty sure about that. Unless it's like, gross dragon ash she's breathing in and that might be a possibility? It's probably not. And you know what? That's something One can figure out, whenever they meet up. She's gotta be around here somewhere.

And while this kid might not be Cent, it's still nice to see a familiar face.]

Woah, looks like you found something good.

tim wright | ota | i'll match your formatting

[postictal]

i. mothman ; god knows what is real and what is fake

[How can something so familiar manage to dig into the point between his shoulder blades and fuck him up so completely?]

[It's not what he knows. He knows it's not, because this thing has eyes and wings and he knows this because he's glimpsed them around the corner. Not the thing, the faceless thing that stalks his dreams and inhabits his waking moments, even now, not his little strand of nightmare. It's just something new that's hounding and haunting him. It chases down his spine. Strands him behind a tree, pinning him in one spot where he knows if he tries to get free, it'll only rip him to pieces.]

[Breathe. Breathe. Breathe until it all fades away, makes it a little easier.]

[Eyes shut. Breathe. Heart rabbiting in his chest. Words stop in his lungs. Fumble for his Stone with nerve-numb fingertips, feel it slip and hit the ground, slick with sweat. Drop down, paw about at the leaf litter in desperate search - ]

[The act leaves him doubled over, crouched on the ground, eyes wide as he tries to stave away the encroaching feeling of terror that he knows will leave him rooted to the spot for longer than is welcome, or ideal.]

[He needs to move.]

[He needs to move.]

[Or someone else needs to move him for him.]

ii. denny ; no surprise we're so easily bored

[But on the plus side - Denny is fully operational once again. Tim, when he isn't being waylaid by a cryptid that's managed to crit-fail him into panicked submission, has taken the time to restock the place.]

[He's busy doing maintenance things, for the most part - things like putting cups and plates back on shelves, popping in with newly washed carrots and potatoes to peel them and leave them for someone better at cooking to deal with, wiping down tables, and so on and so forth. He's very intent on his work, though he'll stop and look up to say hello if you're interested in chatting.]

[Mostly he just wants to forget these past couple weeks happened, if that's okay.]

i. time to get Tim into ASMR- ten hours cryptid unskippable

[achievementhunter]

[Hey Timothy, have you ever considered taking a nap? Listening to Marley, chilling in some, vague form?

Perhaps one day, Chara would stop entering his life at the very worst of moments- today is not that day. It doesn’t appear to be Frisk’s day, either, the grip on their hand tight enough to leave the tips of Chara’s fingers an ugly purple-red, but they’re grateful for it, nonetheless. It’s easier, to be the calm one. Easier, when they don’t have time to succumb to whatever nerves are rapidly fraying at the edges.

They’re in charge. So they’re in charge. Keeping their head high as they cross the clearing, no matter how tight Frisk’s grip gets. Following the sound of wheezing breaths that circle round a tree, and lead to the crumpled form of a man they’d been looking for.

They’ve both been looking for.]

We simply must stop meeting like this, Timothy.

[Chara; that’s Chara, pressed and composed. Frisk is composed too, but in the way that they rarely aren’t - eyes distant, downcast, not on Tim. Not on anywhere at all, really. When Chara speaks, their fingers shift, turning whiter and then red again as they adjust the tightness of their grip.

Frisk swallows. Presses their lips together and offers, quietly:]

It’s us.

[Sup?]

Chara | OTA

[achievementhunter]

[It could almost be another day.

They wake the same way that they always do. The hammock lends a sense of support to their form, covered by a thick layer of jackets and jumpers to form a mattress. Frisk, as polite and respectful of their need for space when conscious, never manages the same in their sleep, eventually uncoiling into a sprawled out shape that, once again, makes itself known to Chara with a limp hand thrown over their cheek. As consciousness seeps in, that would grow more irritating- a few minutes would be all Chara needed to decide to get up, to start the day. Wander to their garden for a few hours before bothering to tend to anything else that might require their attention. People, islands, savage creatures. Books and tea. It really could be just another day.

Except they wake up feeling cold.

A month ago, the weather had just started taking a more pleasant turn. Gone were mornings of being forced awake merely due to being overheated. Early starts were natural for both of them, but coming to of their own will beat over an immediate need to trek towards the waterfall to tackle badly kempt levels of hydration. The weather was pleasant-- not cold. It wasn’t late enough in the year for it to be cold.

In their life, changes meant something. Change was never too small, never insignificant. It’s cold. When they open their eyes, it’s to the level gaze of their Partner. Something is wrong.

They find Timothy first.

It’s a requirement.

And from there, they take off on their own. Checking on their mountain garden, wandering to the elf camp. Walking the length of the beach, half in hope of finding those they know-- and half with the consciously repressed tension of meetings that haven’t happened in a very, long time.

In their life, changes meant something. One was never truly in control of them.

They’ll deal with the consequences regardless.]

garden

[lightlessfuture]

[ They've always found it easy to lose themselves in work, especially pleasant work. Gone are the days when all they could do was fight or wander, reading the words of the dead over and over, pondering the scrawled journals written in languages from places they've never been.

They have new purpose, new task. So when their teacher is nowhere to be found, doesn't show up in the garden like they used to - the Knight simply continues their patient work. The flowers need care, and the garden needs weeding. Even if everyone were to disappear from this place besides them, the plants would still need to be tended.

So they do. Every morning, they make the trek up to the mountain garden. Today is no different from any other day, in that regard.

They're weeding, when they hear movement. They don't turn to look, though. Whoever it is will make themselves known soon enough. ]

Michael | OTA

[eudaimonikos]

a: everything is fine

[Michael - once he figures out what the deal with the Chamber of Glyphs is - figures that his duty here is pretty obvious. He is well-accustomed to the whole "welcoming people to another world" thing. Sure, he's got a little less control here. They're already going to be freaked out over the cartoon monsters in there. But they deserve a friendly, unflappable face.

So he'll spend a while pacing up and down the walls, offering a hand to any lost people he sees.]

Hi, I'm Michael. Welcome to the islands - watch your step. [Coming out of a wall seems a little precarious maybe?]

b: enter the mothman

[Michael, as it happens, isn't quite so easily overcome by the creature's aura of fear and paranoia.

The paranoia's one thing. Anxiety gnaws at his gut as he stalks through the woods, posture rigid and hands curled into fists. But even with his new bodily needs, even with the limits on his powers, isn't he still a demon? He refuses to be afraid of some thing in the woods that couldn't even really kill him! It's his job to see to exactly this sort of problem.

Not...not with violence, perhaps. He'll think about that if he ever actually catches it.]

Hey! Is this some kind of a joke to you?

[He follows the flashes of movement he can see, too intent on making this thing stop to be dissuaded by its aura. There was a time when he was the thing lurking in the background, giving people stomachaches. It isn't funny.]

b

[sandsister]

[It's when she's alone that paranoia blooms. When she doesn't have Cent by her side, telling her all kinds of amazing facts, or the kids asking her a million different question, it gets quiet and when that quiet comes-

She thinks about her sisters, their childhood together, the weird blurry way the pieces fit together. She thinks about what their parents were like. Thinks about whether or not she's doing right by the kids she's adopted, if Cent liked dinner last night, if One was getting enough fresh air and-

She has the same feeling now, wandering through the woods. Something is watching her and she can't shake a fear she knows she shouldn't feel. Cent's gotta be around her and as long as he's nearby, she's got nothing to be scared of and-

Someone's voice cuts through her thoughts, making her immediately pull out her big ole sword, but it's just a person??]

Hey, are you okay?

Asgore | OTA

[journalname]

[Asgore was already off-kilter before the eruption. Afterwards...it's strange. He remembers being his younger self so clearly, a remnant of a time he hasn't looked back on for centuries. There was so much more hope back then. He sees now how hard everyone in the castle was working to help him become a good king. How could anyone have predicted it would all end in this?

Ordinarily, he goes out to welcome the newcomers. So he tries. He walks up and down the beaches of Enso and Nuidan, and even ventures a short trip back to Cahypdo. But there's no one.

After a while, he turns back towards home. It doesn't matter anyway; no doubt far more qualified people have already taken up that task. Maybe Toriel is there. He's wondered more often, of late, how her rule in the Underground he left behind is going. Perhaps she's discovered whatever mysterious force freed Muffet's Underground? Maybe they don't even need him to go back and help at all.

...he's been here enough times to recognize his own mood. As much as he would like to just go back to his house, it would likely be better if he did not. So he walks the beaches of Enso some more, this time working to catch the slowly drifting volcanic ash in one of the pots he's managed to acquire. It is excellent for plants. Doubtless his garden is currently getting plenty, but he'd like to hold onto some of it as well. For the future.]

[yeenaw]

[He thought he'd been sold that false bill of goods on what hell was like, until he realized that the air was filled with ash. And that his eternal punishment apparently involved his sickness following him here.]

[All of that's just fine - no less than he deserves, to be honest. What Arthur can't seem to get around is this terrible nag at the back of his senses, something awful and skittish that keeps him out of the trees. He wonders if this is how Dutch felt those last days, with some nonsensical feeling like there's eyes on him everywhere. Sweating, Arthur stumbles out from the thick forest into the cool, salted air of a shoreline. God damn, no wonder Dutch went crazy.]

[Then Arthur bolts straight and thinks - he's going crazy. There's no other explanation for that huge... furry, thing just down the beach, half-bent with something in its hands. Cursing under his breath, Arthur scrambles for his gun; it's still wet, he doesn't think it'd fire right yet, but what else can he do except run like hell?]

[A short wave of coughing rattles through him. He'd never make it. So he plays his card first, unholstering his gun and raising his voice over the quiet surf.]

Hey, you! Big feller!

Kate Collins | openish

[patternseeker]

• chamber of glyphs [closed to kiriya]

[ There's a moment, as she reaches out and lets the Pattern embrace her, where Kate feels complete - maybe this is enlightenment. Maybe every religion in the world has been yearning for the Pattern. Maybe... but none of that matters. Humans have left behind their own patterns, scoring the air and the earth with their stories, their lives, their connections. Kate glimpsed the Pattern's world in the moments (days? years? hours...?) before returning to the observatory, making one last recording, and becoming part of it.

A moment. Eternity. Both. Neither.

And then she opens her eyes and sees a new place, with people and drawings moving around — the Pattern is nowhere to be found, but she isn't afraid. Maybe this is its home world. Maybe everyone here is like her, touched by the Pattern's Light. Maybe she's... she's stuck in the wall— maybe because this is part of her growth.

In any case, she puts her palm against what should be air and pushes. Strains. All but growls. She is more than human now, she is part Pattern, she has liquid light in her veins and survived an air strike of VX nerve gas and witnessed the unraveling of time and space and is alive and better for it all.

But now some invisible wall has her trapped. Great.

She bangs her palms against it. Why won't it shatter? If she thinks hard enough, maybe she can bend the laws of physics and escape.

Kiriya will find her frowning out into the room. ]


• ensō [open to 2, first come first served]

A new world, and I can't even see the sky.

[ Kate sighs, frustrated. Her knapsack is a comforting weight against her back as she stares at the overcast sky in the hopes that she can will the clouds to part. At the very least, it should clear up by night, right? Anyway, she'll wander around the big island before she decides to claim herself some shelter.

Once she settles in her shack (Island 5, Shack #1 for those playing along at home) she can be found periodically going outside and shaking her head at the sky. Sometimes she'll look over her shoulder thanks to a snapped twig or some rustling bushes. How frustrating. Predators will make things difficult. ]

Maybe a fire will keep them away.

[ She mumbles to herself and cautiously sets about gathering wood and kindling. ]



[ ooc: if you want something more specific either now or later, hmu o/ punnyinpink @ plurk or PM to this journal. ]

Chamber

[truthkills]

[Kiriya, being the nosy bastard that he is, can't help but investigate the chamber, especially not when he's been informed that new people are there. And oh, look, there is a person. A person in the wall, that's new.]

Hey, 'sup?

[Clearly he is approaching this with the appropriate amount of concern.]

Jonathan Sims | The Magnus Archives | OTA

[the_archivist]

Chamber of Glyphs
[In his dreams, the Archivist can only watch. He drinks in the nightmares, night after night, the stories and the fear while those dreamers scream and suffer and stare with pleading eyes and he watches and is watched, The Eye drawing him ever closer.

And it is the same here. He watches as the shapes move, and as the people outside walk and talk, and stare at the ever changing images around them. It is a dream, so he watches, and it takes longer than it should before he realises that this dream is different. He does not know these people. They have not dripped their stories from honied lips to him and he should not be seeing what he is seeing.

He reaches out towards them, but his way is blocked, like there's a pane of glass between him them. He tries to push through, to bang against it, but the barrier does not give.]


Ensō
[The dust sticks to the roof of his mouth and makes his tongue feel thick and clumsy. Thoughts about The Buried play heavily on his mind; he remembers vividly the story of the Dustbowl, the storm that had choked throats with dirt. And of course it reminds him of the coffin, trapped in Forever-Deep-Below-Creation with Daisy, the earth pressing in from all sides.

But it is not there. And he can breathe.

It takes a while before the creeping sense of being watched registers. The feeling of being watched is his every moment now, to the point where it is almost a comfort. He's not sure what that says about him. Nothing good probably.

But the feeling grows, along with the prickle of paranoia down the back of his neck. He knows the way it settles into his stomach, disrupts his thoughts until all he can think of is rooting out the problem. He remembers it, the Not-Sasha. He remembers the feeling of being hunted.

He knows how this works.

He keeps moving, trying to find a place where he can stop and try to See, finally coming to a clearing with enough space that anything will have to cross it to reach him. He stands in the centre of it, turning to try to catch sight of whatever is hunting him.]

You might as well show yourself.

chamber of glyphs

[lightlessfuture]

[ The Knight is used to the images on the walls being mobile, leaping and fighting and forever reenacting their stories.

They're not so used to the images attempting to reach out. That's not usually what happens. Not understanding why at first, and with a child's curiosity, they attempt to mirror his movements. Not quite touching his hand yet. ]

Nari Reno | OTA

[everylittlesecret]

Art Time

[It's very unfortunate for those who arrive within the walls that Nari is far more interested in sketching out what's going on with the moving pictures than trying to help. After all, she doesn't think anything bad is going on at first till the monsters show up. Huh.

Drawing time will be set aside to see if interacting with the wall is a thing. As in holding her hand out as seeing if someone will grab it so she can pull them out.]

Whoa. This is some rad kind of interactive art exhibit, ain't it.

Mothmaaaaaan

[Fear should be felt. Fear should be heeded. If fear was a factor in this. Nari is standing there as still as a statue.

Till she lets out a squeal of delight at the creature she's seeing. Like a teen girl at a concert aimed at that age range.]

Oh. My. God. Is that the Mothman?

[She's far too delighted at this predicament. Her best friend loves Mothman. It's hard not to be for her.]

mothboi

[serrata]

[ Yuuri doesn't need an outside influence to be jumpy and paranoid, so it's hard for her to tell she's being influenced at all. It's not exactly fun, but having her nerves sharpened to a razor edge isn't exactly new.

So when she hears Nari squeal, she just barely has enough control over herself to not jump clean out of her skin and she hurries over as fast as she can, concern clear as day all over her face. ]

What? What happened – are you alright?!

[ She's spooked enough that apparently 'a squeal of delight' is something that warrants concern. ]

yukio okumura | ota

[reflash]

1. don't fear the mothman: monkey compound
[Yukio spent too much time being a scared little kid last month. He won't do that again, brushes off the memory like a bad taste in his mouth, leaves his house (it needs some work, he'll figure something out) and goes out to explore.

He doesn't get very far. The area around the former monkey compound is a jungle of strange plants, and Yukio spends maybe more time than he should looking for familiar greenery, anything useful. He's staying alert, helped by his forked snake-like tongue and too many eyes scattered across his skin, but he can't see everything. It's dangerous, being out here, with his back exposed. Something could sneak up on him.

He doesn't recognize the wave of sudden paranoia as having an external source, not at first. At first it's just the unsettled feeling of being in a new place, of experiencing something extremely weird recently, of not having any real allies yet. But then it grows, spiraling into something that can't be shoved down and ignored. And then he sees motion, processes the movements of a stranger sneaking upon him. He turns, raising his bow and aiming the energy arrow at the person behind him.]

Back away. [It's a clear threat, even if he knows he's being irrational right now.]

2. throw leaves at the problem: infirmary
[The ash in the air is too much for him. It coats his tongue and wrecks his enhanced sense of smell. He sucks it into his lungs with every breath and coughs out grey phlegm.

But he's found the "infirmary", which is in an incredibly inconvenient location. It needs a mana pool if it's going to be of any use. Still, he's poking around the building for a while, trying to determine if anyone's actually maintaining or stocking anything. Then he can be found outside, gathering up mango leaves and fruit and taking stock of the surrounding areas.]

2

[hurricane_clown]

[There are a couple of residents who frequent the infirmary, for one reason or another.

One is Faust, of course. Whether Yukio knows the doctor or not is unknown and (almost) totally irrelevant to this encounter.

Another is Karako.

Less than four feet of grey-skinned, knife-bedecked Troll with another foot or two of painted horns on his head, he has absolutely no medical training and had never heard the word 'doctor' until he arrived on the islands. As far as he's concerned, it means someone who heals people and wears bags on their head.

No, he visits the infirmary regularly because he enjoys the novelty of a building he can come and go to as he pleases.

Which is what he's doing when Yukio finds the place.

At the sound of footsteps, he immediately scrambles for a place to hide--

But, well, it's not a very good hiding place.

His horns are... well.

They're not hidden at all.]

Héctor | OTA

[vagabone]

[It's that time again. The time of month that the new arrivals starting showing up. The regularly scheduled delivery of fresh kidnapees. Other than that, it's not so different from any other day on the island. Generally, he doesn't wander the jungle unless necessary, it's more trouble than it's worth. But every time he does, something seems to find him in seconds. Something huge and dark, hovering and flickering away whenever he tries to look closely at it. Isn't that interesting.

He's more puzzled than nervous, unlike everyone else. It's far from the creepiest thing around, and it hasn't done anything. At some point, it happens to show up in front of a witness and he has to ask--]

Okay, I'm not the only one seeing that, right?

[Wouldn't be the first time.]

[a_shadow]

[ Tex didn't, but she gets the idea she knows what he's talking about. ]

I saw it, earlier. It...seems to know when you've spotted it.

Toriel | OTA

[goat_mom]

A.

[Oh, this is a most strange situation... not that strange situations are uncommon in this world, based on how she was a child not too long ago. She hadn't known such a thing was possible, so at this point, anything seems possible.

She's alarmed at first by the knapsacks strewn across the ground, and even more alarmed to see people on the walls, waving and trying to shout and... on the verge of being eaten by monsters? That won't do. Toriel lends her aid to whoever needs it by trying to rescue people from the walls, holding out her paw for them to grab.

It seems like the most logical choice, besides blasting the monsters with flame, so she tries to be welcoming and reassuring to the people trapped, smiling gently as she holds out her paw.]

B.

[Something is trying to kill her. Of that much, she is sure. There's a growing fear in the back of her mind as she walks around Ensō, a sense that something is watching her. She hasn't felt like this in a thousand years - uncertain of herself, uncertain of her safety. A knowledge that the only thing she knows is that she's in danger.

As a twig snaps behind her, she lifts her paw, where a roaring flame forms in it, lighting up her face.]

Who is there? Show yourself at once.

genji shimada | ota

[assoverelbow]

[Seems things are turning around, for as much as Genji has any idea what's going on here. He's managed to make his way out of the wall, which...Okay. That happened. He doesn't know how it happened, but it did, and now he's out and in the gloomy night.

He doesn't stand out as much as he could. With the lights dimmed, he's just a shadow in the blackness of night. Not the only shadow running around, it seems, but Genji is much less spooky.

Probably.

The paranoia doesn't bother him much - though it seems like he's gotten lucky.]

Do not be afraid.

[Yes, you, specifically.]

It seems our friend's bark is worse than his bite.

[He's still going to chill in the shadows - it's appropriately dramatic this way.]

[flower_of_innocence]

[She's not usually out this late, but she'd gone a little too far looking for supplies and underestimated how much time it would take to get back to the mana pool, and now she's gotten turned around in the dark and gosh, Guzma's going to be livid...

She's not paying much attention to where she's going until a massive black shadow swoops past overhead, causing her to clutch Nebby close to her chest and drop to her knees to avoid being snatched up. If she's low to the ground, that thing can't reach her. Right?

Wrong. Branches snap behind her and she's on her feet and sprinting through the trees as fast as her little legs can take her. Lillie has no fight mode in situations like these. It's pure flight. But this feeling in her chest, tight and burning, is worse than being "spooked". It's terror. It's certainty that she will be harmed if she does not run, anywhere, any direction, now.

That said, she can't run forever, even if her stamina is nothing to scoff at, and once she is certain the only sounds she can hear are the ones of blood rushing in her ears and her own crashing through the underbrush, she skids to a halt, wheezing. Except, of course, there is another shadow in the night. And it's talking to her. Lillie doesn't register a single word, just the sounds of someone talking, and instinctively she turns part way to shield Nebby from whatever this is.]

S-Stay away! [Yelling while out of breath is a nonsense activity that she does not recommend.] Please, I really mean it!

Pyrrha Nikos | OTA

[tokenflavortownie]

[Today could almost be considered normal, even with the certain oddities happening in the chamber of glyphs. People seemed to be arriving for the first time, the volcano on the other island had already erupted, so it seemed, at first, that there was nothing Pyrrha needed to be concerned about.

She hoped for that much, but this day was full of surprises. For one, a new monster was joining the arrivals to the island. Secondly, it won't leave her alone.

At least that's what her mind tells her. The quiet, cold fear, clawing at all of her instincts as a Huntress that she has become the hunted. This sort of paranoia was hard on anyone, but Pyrrha had the worst excuse to be paranoid: actual reasons.

Like she kept seeing the damn thing, all over the island.]

Why... is it following me. [She says aloud, to nobody in particular. Her voice both tired and nervous. Her eyes scanning the nearby treeline for any sign of those eyes...] What did I do to deserve a Mothman? And how do I apologize?