lifeaftr | June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

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June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

JUNE EVENT: CHAOS, CHAOS!

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: It's just a little chaos...
When: June 17th - June 22nd
Where: Primarily Io, though also across Ensō and the islets if applicable
Warnings: Violence, possible body horror, potential anxiety and dysmorphia associated with body-swapping

Who Keeps Spinning the World Around?

The morning of June 17th, you'll probably notice things are amiss rather quickly. Your hands aren't your hands, or you're no longer in a squishy human flesh shape, or worse. Maybe your Lawful Good persona has plummeted into an outright Chaotic Evil one. Or maybe you wake up with a brand new power in your hands! Whatever the case is, no explanation is going to be immediately forthcoming, from Eleu or the Storyteller or anyone else. You'll have to figure out this mess on your own.

Adjust to your new circumstances, master your new powers, and do what you can to make it through the next few days...because they're going to be some very interesting ones, for certain.

Catch Me If You Can!

Come June 20th, whether you're back to normal selves or not, Eleu has a job for you. A request, even. They're going to need your help to take care of this little problem and put a stop to all this absolute madness.

Those interested in helping can get in touch with any of the honeybees buzzing anxiously about Io, and they will redirect you to the Honeycomb, which has now been provided with several barrels of Honeycomb Sledgehammers for your use. You don't have to take one if you don't need it, but they make a very powerful weapon. Additionally, Eleu will take care to assure that, in exchange for your help, you may keep the Sledgehammer, if you so choose.

Those interested in assisting may access our boss fight at its top-level below. This is a single thread with no order, but anyone may participate, regardless of their current state of being. Don't worry about how you contribute, or tag speed. Anyone who's concerned about being left out is welcome to reach out to us to handwave or backtag their involvement, if necessary!

The Clown Box is going to put up a fight, though. And it's not going to be pretty.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] June 17th: Chaos begins!
[ ♆ ] June 21st: On the eve of the final battle, Storytelling commences.
[ ♆ ] June 22nd: Characters confront the Clown Box, and all parties return to normal.
[ ♆ ] June 25th: All parties become privy to the final outcome involving the Clown Box.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yeah, that's... that's about what he expected. Kravitz is breathing harder than he means to, a nervous seize in his chest while he waits for Tim to come down, holding the bucket near his head like it's some kind of flail.]

Sorry, I'm-- very sorry, but I figured this was better than the alternative.

[He'll hold out a hand to try helping him up, though. If it makes any difference.]

Alt...ernative?

[He glances up, his expression screwed up in the midst of cough after spluttering cough. His skin's damp enough to minimize the ache, though that might just be the shock of the cold.]

[Kravitz has a hand out to him.]

[He takes it.]

What alternative?

You burning to death, I imagine.

[He'll try to bring him up gently, but without looking overly worried about the experience, even though he sure is feeling some kind of way and dislikes it greatly.]

The water likely wasn't pleasant, but on a scale of the two, this was less likely to kill you immediately.

[Kravitz isn't sure Tim has the energy to make jokes about death saving his life or refusing to let him cross, but he's anticipating it regardless.]

This isn't burning me alive. [Yet.] It just hurts. I dunno if it...maybe needs me alive to k-keep burning.

[The words peter off the longer he says them aloud - possibly because he realizes a) how fucked up it is that he's just going around saying this shit like it's not big deal, and b) how applicable that metaphor is to his fucking life.]

[Can't die. Can't be killed. Not while It still has a use for him.]

[He shakes wet hair from his eyes.]

But, uh - th-thanks, I guess.

[That's an even more gruesome thought, but it would make... sense, through it all. He won't say that though, with the full knowledge he's kind of done enough damage here.]

Right. My apologies for trying to, er, take control of the situation, I suppose. I recall when I first was granted many of my abilities, I was very confused about how to really use them. It's a finesse that takes a long time to learn, but I know you have not been granted that kind of time.

[Not that that's anything Tim doesn't know, most likely.]

Perhaps you can ride this out at the bathhouse? What with all the water.

Assuming I don't set anything on fire.

[Didn't all this trouble start because wouldn't stop messing with Io? He doesn't know. He gave the Box a tape, and that was enough to get it to leave him the hell alone. Should've known better than to think that would be the end of it.]

I d-don't think this is mine. It's not me.

[If it was his, it'd be burning him alive.]

They may not be originally. But for now, they are. I doubt this is something you can completely solve, and with luck we will not be dealing with it much longer. But I would like it if you survived that long.

[Probably a selfish way to think about it, but he also doesn't want to tell Tim to do anything about now.]

So, if there is anything I can do, I would like to.

What's it matter to you if I survive?

[He doesn't have to clean up after, right? He'll burn to death, sure, and that'll suck, but it'll be faster than the flowers, and does Kravitz think this is the first time Tim's had to contend with the possibility that he might be burned alive? He was setting shit on fire before he was even eighteen.]

[Ready to burn if it burned too.]

Because it isn't just.

[Oh, here we go, even if he's trying to pick his words so Tim doesn't burst into flames again.]

I'm a bounty hunter, but I'm more importantly a judge of the punishment for the crime. My primary objective is just to make sure the balance is restored- the dead stay dead, the living do not meddle with that. It brings me no joy to murder desperate people who are backed into a corner.

[And he doesn't. He didn't kill Lucas despite coming within an inch of destroying the world. He just needed Maureen to come back with him.]

Suddenly having a power thrust upon you that you cannot control that strikes you down? It's simply not fair. No one should die like that.

[Laugh. Don't laugh. Laughter isn't his instinct, and he knows it isn't his instinct because he doesn't laugh at things on reflex. But he wants to. God, he wants to. Wants to burst into laughter burst into flames burst into laughter at the simplicity of it the irony of it the cosmic cruelty of what Kravitz is saying to him right now.]

[His eyes are watering. They sting. He coughs, shutting them. He's still soaking wet. No one'll notice if he starts. Does it matter if Kravitz notices, anyway? When has he cared who sees him like this? A wreck, shivering and trying not to sob. Hundreds of thousands have seen him like this, and not cared.]

[Without meaning to, Tim's shoulders have drawn up around him as he tries and fails to choke back a hitch in his throat, a cough that turns into a sob.]

Th-that's just my entire life. Everyone I've ever -

[Everyone you've ever known.]

[And this, right here, is why Kravitz is so militant at his job. It is so impossibly rare that someone is truly evil, trying to destroy the innocent in the name of power. More often his dealings are with the victim- the soul he has to pull back from the trauma of dying again and again, from the pain of a soul getting stretched and torn between worlds. He is the jury and often executioner of his Lady's judgement, but in tandem, he finds himself the pallbearer, the last hands standing at the end of the line.

He knows. He knows so badly the type of horror that can come from being beaten around by the universe, and that's why his job is so important. The world isn't fair. The universe is not just. So he makes himself it's attendant, the janitor of the cases that fall by the wayside. They matter. This is why the rules matter.]

That doesn't mean it was right, or deserved.

[Because he knows right, and he can tell just from this it damn well wasn't.]

I am sorry that no one was there to stop whatever force held power over you. There should have been someone there managing that entire situation, and it should never have been expected that just anyone pulled in could fix it. I say this with the confidence of a man who has seen thousands of cases, despite not intimately knowing yours.

Managing - ?

[The word chokes halfway. Don't laugh. Don't fucking laugh, but god if that isn't maybe the worst idea he's ever heard. It sounds too much like what Alex thought he could be, what Alex thought he was doing. Managing it. Keeping it under control.]

It's not fucking manageable. Y-you think that, that every anomaly out there in the universe just pulls up to some official building and signs itself in for surveillance? Some fucking - case. What the hell are you talking about.

Of course they don't.

[Maybe it's because he's trying to be composed, or maybe he's just been challenged too many times on this particular point, but his words are sharper-- and probably with more genuine feeling than Tim has seen from him before.]

I'm not an idiot, nor a hopeful fool. I've been doing this for a thousand years. The universe does not keep itself in check, but it has rules for it to be sustained. Do you know how easy it is to break the world? It's fragile. The balance of life and death is incredibly delicate, and that is why the universe employs servants to make sure it stays stable.

[He doesn't know if he's ever explained this to someone, but well, circumstances. It's never been relevant.]

Keeping the world running is no small task, and that's why when I hear things like this, where someone obviously gave little care to letting some horror wander about amassing power! It's not right. It's work, work to specifically stop what has apparently happened to you from occurring. Of course it isn't easy! But this is why it's vital.

Y-you listen. No one let this thing happen. It just happened. It just bleeds into the fucking universe and takes whatever It wants and no one can stop It.

[The words are getting louder. They're getting louder, and the flames are - hot. Even despite the soaking quality of his clothes, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead, the sodden ground around his feet, there's the hiss of steam as the bluish fire flares ever higher, burning at the moisture and crackling at his clothes. Bites at his skin. Hurts like his grit teeth.]

No one can do anything about It but try and forget and th-that isn't even enough, so you don't ever, ever think that it's something fucking fixable - you understand me?

[The flames roar.]

[Maybe that's just the blood pounding in his ears. Can't hear anything - are you even listening to yourself?]

[What is he doing?]

[Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, oh god shut up you brought It up you brought It up now It's coming It's coming and it's your fault - ]

No.

[It's quiet, barely audible over the hiss of the fire roaring up along his shoulders, sparking down his fingertips, spitting sparks onto the ground. But he's gone still, as though rooted to the spot.]

No, no, no, no, no -

[You did this. Your fault, Tim. You brought it up.]

[Everything that's happened is your fault.]

[He should have known this would happen. This is the problem with passion, the way he so often falls to it; always have to be a right. Always have to be a structure. He swears he can hear Anbaki giving him shit in the back of his brain for it now. But that's not important when the man in front of him is back to being on fire, and without thinking, he just reaches out and grabs his shoulders.

Oh, this is going to hurt.]

Tim! Listen to me! It is well within your right to be scared and not believe me, but however long you are here you will not be found! And if whatever great beast arrives here, we will handle that ultimatum when it comes. Please--

[He won't let go, even if it burns and he wishes he was more himself and less mortal.]

Please listen to me. Listen to someone.

[In another minute, Tim's shouting inarticulately. Give it a minute further, and that shouting has words.]

Get off me get off me get off me get off me get OFF ME -

[He's not listening. He can't listen. He can't listen to anything but the heat biting at his ears and the flames are starting to sear his skin, burning into the hands of someone who's gripped his shoulders. He can't do this. He can't be grabbed like that'll fix it not like this he can't do this.]

[He needs to get to the water. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like the water, but if he doesn't, he burns.]

[Maybe he should.]

[Kravitz is used to his actions having consequences, but nothing has gone quite this badly in a long time. Maybe it's because he usually is trying to kill the people he's talking to, but that's not important right now. Tim's panic is seizing into his heart and he lets go quickly, hands shaking not just from the pain of the flames and the blistering skin on his palms. All he can do is something, something, something, and as much as it feels like a cop out he knows dousing him worked before. It's a better alternative to pushing him off a cliff, at least.

He doesn't approach once he's tossed another bucket of water over them though; he retreats, a few steps back with his hands up. He's scared, but not of Tim- because Tim is scared, angry, panicked, and those feelings are making it hard to not simply run. Maybe this is why Ren hides so much. He'll have to work on that.

But he won't leave yet until he knows the other man is alive, even if he knows he isn't helping this situation further.]

[The water does it, at least for a moment. It also shuts him up, because he inhales a mouthful of it between the shouting that almost, but doesn't quite, break into a mess of sobs. Instead he just breaks down coughing, which is arguably the better outcome of the two.]

[The fires fizzle out to a dull coal-glow limning the skin of his arms. The skin is reddened in places, black and glistening in others. He can feel it: on his back, down his spine, at the base of his neck.]

[It's going to scar.]

[There's nothing for him to do but cough up the fluid in his lungs, and try to shut his eyes against the influx of tears pressing at the backs of his lids.]

[He keeps a bit of a distance, this time; no touch, he's learned that, and at least he isn't on fire anymore. But there's not much he can do here, and he hates that feeling of helplessness, of a job left unfinished even in a world he has no jurisdiction over. Still, it allows them both a moment to breathe, and he can't possibly leave without--]

I'm sorry. Please, I-- let me know if you need to ask the Stoyteller about your injuries. I will front whatever costs, of course, and uhm... not bother you further.

[He might just do it anyway without prompting, because lord, what else can he do?]

I don't - need -

[Help. No, that's a lie - clearly he does need help. Angry, reddened welts now crawl up over parts of his forearms. Probably snake all the way up to his shoulders, along his spine. Layered over the crisscrosses of pale scar tissue that he never lets anyone see.]

[He doesn't have a satisfying end to that sentence. That's fine. He can barely concentrate on stringing the words together.]

I don't need - your help.

[As much as he wants to argue, there's just no point for all that now. He's hurt. The least he can do is not make it worse.]

Please... be gentle to yourself, then. And perhaps stay close to a water source. I do not mean you any harm.

[But his presence here obviously isn't helping, so he'll look to leave-- and hopefully direct someone more qualified towards his presence that can actually stop him from hurting himself going forward.]

[Gentle? Be gentle? How about Tim gently sets himself on fucking fire? Again?]

Go...f-fuck yourself.

[That's about all he can manage before he turns away, starts moving for the ocean. He might as well stay close to the water while he can. That's gonna be the only preventative measure he can really take here.]

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June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

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