lifeaftr | August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

Entry tags:

August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

INTRO LOG: AUGUST

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

Our lucky new adventurers join the archipelago on a new chapter of our journey, with the new island of Nastrandir playing host to their arrival. With the events of last month leaving many questions in those more settled in LifeAftr, all will find they soon have…other things to think about.

New arrivals may awake at either of the locations listed below. Or they may wander!

A4: Show Me Distraction
In comparison to the warm welcome characters experienced on Io, the land of Nastrindir is not at all promising. The strip of coast hosting the mana pool is a scoop of rock and cliff, and rather unforgiving. To the east, however, it looks as though nearby wetlands leave the horizon lost in a foggy haze. The mana pool is generally a comforting, reliable constant on any island...generally. There looks to be something wrong with this one. The rocks surrounding it are blackened, various spots across their surface almost glass-like under the summer sun. After a brief inspection, most will probably gather that the pool has been set on fire in times past.

More annoying still is the tampering that's occured within the pool. The pool is partially obstructed, due to a blockage of tumbled rocks and boulders that seem to have fallen from the surrounding rocky landscape and toppled into the raised plinth. The choking of the mana water will make return trips to Ensō…inconvenient, to say the least. The rocks are an annoyance that will need to be removed before anyone will be travelling anywhere.

Also of note are the old statues that stand at opposing sides of the mana pool. In their prime, they may have towered a good fifteen or twenty feet tall. Now, however, one has been tipped onto its side, and there are large, crumbled chunks taken out of the other. Both look blackened, much like the mana pool, as though they were also set on fire at some point in their history. Whatever they may have meant to depict has been lost to time...but the parts of them that have survived look to represent smooth, rounded coils of something or another.

It might feel, to the particularly wary or those prone to paranoia, like these statues are watching you. Like they're representative of something else that might have its eye on you, even now.

Or they might not! It could be all in your head. What's way more important is the local flora in the vicinity. The parts of the land that have soil are currently host to some delightful plants that are known, colloquially, as candyplants. And, yes - they're exactly what they sound like.

Candyplants are odd plants that are not unlike a melon vine, except that their fruits take the form of giant candies. The candyfruit is quite edible, though much higher in sugar content than your more bog standard varieties of fruits and vegetables. The variation in the shapes and sizes and flavors is tremendous - some are shaped like fruit, and will have a very similar taste to the fruit they represent. The only exceptions are the ones that look rather like overgrown candy corn, which taste like...marshmallows, for some reason. But they still taste sweet, and they're still full of some of the nutrients you'd expect to find in ordinary fruit!

While candyplants are somewhat less sugary than their real candy equivalents, it's still not recommended that you gorge on them overmuch. They're probably pretty bad for your teeth, if you have any. Candyplants do keep for quite some time, though - particularly if dried, packed in jars, or otherwise preserved.

Candyplants grow in temperate areas near quantities of fresh water - which Nastrandir has in abundance. Most of them grow in shaded, open areas along the ground, like melons; plants that bear smaller candyfruits may instead behave like grapes and other climbing vines, especially when they would be otherwise crowded out by other ground plants. The plants and fruits are quite harmless, though the sweet, sugary smell that tends to linger around areas of rampant growth during hot weather can cause one hell of migraine.

B4: Snakes Are Biting at My Heels
Those who arrive a little ways away from the mana pool or find themselves daring enough to start exploring will end up on the B4 square, which is closer to the swampy environment more characteristic of Nastrandir's inland. The further east one progresses, the wetter and softer the ground underfoot will get, until you're slogging thigh-deep in freshwater algae and muck. It's pretty dirty work, but it's probably more advisable that you go roaming into the wetlands rather than sticking around in the rockier regions. - especially because those regions happen to be occupied.

That feeling of paranoia that may or may not have settled on the back of your neck on A4 will turn out to be justified. Flickers of motion in the corner of your eye, the sensation of something watching you, the clattering of pebbles and rocks sliding down the sloping inclines on Nastrandir's craggy landscape - all signs indicative that something else frequents this region.

And something does. Something large, scaly, and very hungry.

Rocobra have now been unlocked in the bestiary!

The spiny protrusions on this creature's long, sinuous body will make it quite difficult to distinguish from its surroundings; these beasts tend to disguise themselves as the surrounding mountain rock where they live. Mild chameleonic properties allow this predator to blend almost seamlessly in with a rocky environment of almost any texture and color. And, given the size of them, it's very possible you won't realize that you're stuck in one's coils until it's too late.

With thick, scaly hides, large jaws, and venomous teeth, the rocobra is deadly fast despite its significant bulk. Even at their smallest, the rocobra is often as thick as a tree trunk in girth, and can range from thirty to sixty feet in length. Rocobra specialize in draping themselves in a circle, concealing themselves among their surroundings, and waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander somewhere in their coils before drawing tight around them to constrict them into a slow and painful death, so they might be devoured.

The good news is that rocobra only ever hunt and live in solitude; it is highly unlikely you'll find more than one in any one area. Most cannot spit venom, but can deal a paralyzing strike with massive fangs that are just as likely to impale you as they are to poison you. The good news is that they do have a weakness, and that weakness is numbers - when there is more than one target for the rocobra to focus on, it can get hopelessly confused over who it should be striking first, and can be easily distracted and led along by a well-coordinated team or pair. It's advised that you strike it at the mouth, if possible, as those scales can be awfully hard to penetrate.

While the danger rocobra present is very real, that doesn't mean they're completely useless. Rocobra can potentially be harvested for venom, meat, or their tough, scaly hides.

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 runs through him like an uncomfortable fluttering of wings, the uncertainty of how to handle this, handle Aziraphale. Crowley wants to help, more than anything, but this is so outside their familiar back and forth that he's not sure what's wanted, what's acceptable.

And the harsh words from Azirapahle not two days ago are fresh in his mind, adding an extra dimension of discomfort to this.]

Might be. [His voice has gone soft in that way he pretends it isn't capable of doing.] You want to find somewhere to take a nap? I can keep an eye out.

[This island might be better than the last one, but Crowley doesn't know if it's safe. And while that wouldn't have previously been a concern, they're much more vulnerable now.]

[And again:] I don't know.

[But he does, and the answer is no. Not now, not yet. It feels too much like asking to be alone again. He puts the device back, rubs at his eyes, composes himself in a way that leads to him sitting up a bit straighter. There. Fine. Somewhat back to normal.]

Why don't we review what we've learned so far? Compare notes.

[Just like old times.]

[In a moment of bravery and something like compassion, Crowley closes that tiny bit of distance, just enough to press his shoulder against Aziraphale's.

They sat like this on a bus for Oxford that went to London, and it was fine.]

We're cut off, seems like we both got that memo. Humans aren't the only sentient mortals in the — whatever it's called. Multiverse? [That's what Michael called it, he thinks.] There's only one place here that has alcohol and it's blackberry whiskey, so I'll just go right ahead and discorporate us both now, shall I?

[There's no wine. Anywhere!]

[It is fine. It's grounding.

More than that, it's welcome.

He leans, just a fraction, and listens.]

But blackberry whiskey sounds lovely.

[Physical contact. Right. Fine. He can do this. Crowley almost tells himself not to breathe, before he realizes that's a function he has to do, now. That's unfortunate.]

Oh, sure, at first. Wait until we're a week in and you're thinking about a nice refreshing Riesling but all you've got is blackberry whiskey.

[He could go for a Riesling right now. Or anything.]

Haven't seen a sign of hot water anywhere, we might as well have gone back to the real old days. Think I could get away with spending most of my time as a serpent? Serpents don't have to take cold baths.

[Crowley doesn't care about this as much as he's pretending to, but he figures the familiarity of this — him grumbling about something, will be familiar and reassuring.]

[He doesn't have to wait until they're a week in; thanks to Crowley, Aziraphale's thinking about it now. Halfheartedly, he glares. But it's not at Crowley — it's at... some unidentified point in the far distance. It might be at the forces of the Universe.

But then he sneaks a sideways look at the demon, brow furrowed.]

I suppose you could. You'd make a fashionable accessory.

[This is Aziraphale, assuming that Crowley will just have to be.

Carried.

Everywhere.

By him, specifically.

Um.]

...you know, lest you scare the children. Can't have you slithering around unsupervised, someone might assume you're related to one of those swamp-things and try to kill you.

[There go his eyebrows again, jerking up towards his hairline. It's been years since he's even taken that form, though he has a faint memory of sunning himself in the window of the bookshop sometime in the 1950s, which might've been the last time Aziraphale saw him as the serpent.

He makes a sound that could be amused, before rolling his eyes.]

I'm not some pet. [He won't be carried around. The indignity.] Anyway, I'd like to see someone try to kill me.

[He might be more squishy and vulnerable in human form, but a big snake is still a big snake.]

There aren't just humans here, Crowley.

[A big snake is a big snake, yes, but a big snake without scales like the one he encountered earlier is still an extremely vulnerable snake.]

I've encountered beings who use magic different from ours. Creatures with... weapons. I even met another demon. We must be very careful.

[He knows, he knows.

This would be so much nicer if they were going over information in the bookshop, or at a nice little cafe somewhere. Crowley sighs, finally gives in to the urge to take off his glasses so he can rub at his eyes. Rather than put them back on, he folds them up and hooks them in the front of his shirt.]

Michael, was it? Or is there another demon running around I've got to worry about?

[I's not we, because Crowley's already decided if there's a demon around that isn't willing to play nice, he's going to have to kill them. He isn't fond of violence, but he won't risk anyone hurting Aziraphale.]

[The last reaction anyone would expect from Aziraphale upon the discussion of a demon who isn't Crowley is a smile, but there's a smile.

He's pleased about the glasses, too. Or the now-lack-of.]

Michael, yes! You met him? Did you two hit it off as I expected?

[Oh.

He doesn't like whatever emotion that stirs up in him. He looks at Aziraphale's smile and fights the way he wants to frown in response. It should be a good thing that the other demon here isn't someone like Hastur or Dagon, so why does he feel some kind of unpleasant way about it?

It's fine, surely. Maybe Aziraphale really is just keen on the idea of Crowley making friends.]

He's alright, very helpful, not sure if I trust him though. Can't trust a demon.

[Present company excluded, obviously.]

[There's a point, but —

Aziraphale drops his voice low, nearly a whisper.]

He's full of love.

[He doesn't giggle, exactly, but there's a hint of one between each of his words. Until. Well. Until he remembers the thing he'd packed away during his discussion with Michael, the thing that made him realize why he said the two demons would get along so well. That little box.

Aziraphale dare not open it.

So he falters, but only for a moment.]

— which is not to say I would trust him, but it's a mark in his decency column.

[That just makes it worse. Crowley can't help but think of their discussion in Tadfield, about love, the way it felt, the fact Crowley couldn't feel it. But sure, Michael's full of love.

He regrets taking his glasses off, now. He didn't think they were going to start talking about love, of all things, let alone love from a demon.]

Well, good for him. [ Humans love all the time and still do terrible things. It doesn't mean anything.] Should still be careful. At least he doesn't seem to know about all the holiness business. I told him a bit about holy water, but not hellfire, so you'll be alright.

[Just in case. He's struck with the urge to pace, but he fights it down, drums his fingers on his knee instead.]

I, um.

[Oh. Oh, there's a sinking feeling. Aziraphale's stomach drops to his feet, knots up, makes him feel vaguely queasy. He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, presses his lips into a thin and worried line.]

I may have... told him a little bit about... what we did. [And then, in a rush of words, Aziraphale starts falling all over himself:] I was very drunk when I showed up, and I'd just spoken to a white rabbit, and I can't for certain say I wasn't at some point convinced that I was dreaming about Alice in Wonderland — I could sense his demonic energy but it was so different, and he doesn't even report to — I mean, the whole structure, the whole basis of his world... please don't be upset. It just... came out.

[Crowley's gaze, which had been very carefully focused on anything that wasn't Aziraphale, snaps over to the angel, eyes narrowed, expression tight. He has to pull back a bit, away from Aziraphale, otherwise he's worried he'll grab him and shake him.]

You jusssst told a demon about what we did?

[His heart is pounding so hard in his chest, he can feel it in his throat. The feeling isn't so much anger as it is panic. Belated panic, but panic nonetheless. It's not as if he can change anything now, can't go back in time and stop Azirapahle from blurting out whatever he did. And it's not like it mattered, hopefully. Michael isn't about to tattle to Beelzebub.

That doesn't help, really.]

What if it'd been one of my lot? Even ssssome low level demon is a threat if they find out. [Fuck, he's hissing and he can't stop. He feels like he's in the bookshop all over again, watching it burn.] I won't — you can't —

[The words stick in his throat. I won't lose you again, you can't do that to me.

Crowley gets up, not to storm off, but he needs to pace, at least. Work out some of this cloying panic.]

[Aziraphale flinches away. Between the look Crowley gives him, and the hissing, and his body language once he's on his feet — scared isn't the word for it. Crowley could never scare him.

But it's very close.]

But it wasn't one of your lot! It wasn't — and, if anything, I daresay we may be safer here than we were back home. If this isn't our world, if there's no... Heaven nor Hell in this place, what have we to fear?

[Aside from actual, honest-to-God monsters.

And the fact that those monsters could kill either of them, probably easily, now, and the lingering question of what would happen were they to discorporate, and and and.]

Sure it's not ideal, but. We've got each other. That's something to start with.

[Crowley loses a word to a hiss, snaps his mouth shut and takes a brief second to breathe, trying to regain a little composure.]

Nowhere is safe, Aziraphale, don't you get that? We don't get to be safe.

[It was stupid of him to ever think otherwise, when everything about their life would speak to the opposite. He'd entertained the idea for one entire afternoon, that maybe they could be... something other than a demon and an angel. Something other than hereditary enemies.

But it was stupid. God won't let him be happy, that would defeat the purpose of making him Fall in the first place.]

[Aziraphale goes quiet, stung. He stares at Crowley, really stares, like he's trying to look straight through him.

Then, with jaw set, he says:] No one does.

[They're special, but they're not.]

But they make the best of what they do get, don't they? And they learn not to let their fear take over. Even if they go about it the hard way. Even if they're stupid enough that it takes them almost losing everything to figure it out.

[Does that sound familiar? It should.]

Let's not do this again, Crowley.

[He wants to argue that it's different, that humans don't have to worry on the same scale that Crowley and Aziraphale exist on, but the words cut right through him and he can't say anything for a long moment.

Can't even look at Aziraphale, actually, suddenly terrified of what he might see. If there's something there that might show he means all those words, that he's talking about what Crowley has been hoping he'd talk about for centuries. But he can't bear it, if he let's hope crawl up into him it'll kill him when he has to cut it out again.

His fingers twitch, wanting to reach for his glasses, put that barrier back up, except it'd be so, so obvious now. As if he isn't already pitifully obvious.

When he finally finds his voice, it's tight.]

Do what, Aziraphale?

[He has to ask, even if he's scared of the answer.]

[He wants to say you know what, but Crowley doesn't, does he?

Aziraphale swallows, feeling strange. Nervous, almost. Queasy? Still?

— and sad.

And sorry.]

I never should've pushed you away like I did. Or said some of the things I said.

[All the tension drains out of Crowley like blood from a wound. He goes still, shoulders sinking and carefully plucks his sunglasses from his shirt to put them back on as casually as he can manage.

It's not particularly effective, but it's better than shoving them on the way he wanted to do thirty seconds ago.]

S'fine, you were scared, I get it. [At the end of the day, when Crowley digs deep into himself, he knows that Aziraphale cares about him, that's never been the question. The shape of it that care has been the question. Whether it was more powerful than his fear of Heaven, of Hell, of repercussions. And Crowley can't blame him for being cautious.

He's always had so much more to lose.] Think we both said things we didn't mean, yeah?

[When I'm off in the stars, I won't even think about you.]

[Crowley's careful placement of his sunglasses has the same effect as shoving them on would have. Aziraphale feels, suddenly, distanced from him. Blocked off.

It makes him bristle.]

I'm trying to say I'm sorry.

[Not make excuses. Not make Crowley get it.

He's just trying to, for the first time, apologize.]

[It would be so, so easy to sneer back at him with I forgive you in that same holier-than-thou tone. Make a mockery of the words that Aziraphale threw in his face, but Crowley isn't angry enough to be quite that cruel. Those sorts of purposeful injuries are more Aziraphale's thing.]

It's — [He breathes in, lets it out slowly.] Apology accepted, if you really think you have to give one.

[There. Done. Can they move on now? Maybe he'll feel less like his heart is trying to crawl out of his throat once they move on.]

[Crowley's response gives Aziraphale no sense of comfort whatsoever. No sense of finality. No closure. He almost feels like Crowley doesn't even mean it, but he's too tired to chase him about it. He's too tired to keep arguing.

So he simply looks at Crowley, then looks down at his own clasped hands. When he speaks again, it's to the ground.]

We'll have to find a place to stay.

[It's not the answer Aziraphale wanted, and it twists unpleasantly, but Crowley's not in the mood to rectify it. Maybe if this had come back at the bookshop while he was wine buzzed and warm, after a nice lunch at The Ritz, Crowley could've been careful and receptive and appreciative of the apology. But he's tired, he's cranky, he feels miserable all over again, some of the exhaustion from the past eleven years finally seeping in after the giddiness of survival had banished it, briefly.

He wants to sleep for a decade.]

Back to civilization, then?

[Not that there's much civilization on the island, but there's got to be something more than just this library and Denny. Crowley hasn't had the opportunity to properly explore.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject