lifeaftr | August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

Entry tags:

August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

AUGUST AFTERMATH: MAKE ME OKAY

Who: Everyone!
What: After the harrowing events of mid-month, it's time to process what you've been through
When: August 24th and onward
Where: Ensō and/or Nastrandir
Warnings: Discussions of violence, injury, forcibly altered mindsets via magical influence, and character deaths. Other than that, tag as you go!

Nastrandir: Can I Fight When I Don't Know How
The morning of August 24th, the day after a Storytelling that was notably later than usual, you will wake to the restoration of your average selves, barring any extenuating circumstances due to recent deaths. The dead will rise again on Ensō, at the Storyteller's Temple, while everyone else will simply wake where they last laid themselves to rest. There's nothing left to do but, perhaps, try to come to terms with all that's just happened.

You've probably witnessed some terrible things, over the past few days. There's a very good chance that you were the one doing the terrible things. Whether you were responsible for the slaughter of a fellow adventurer, watched the fray from the distance, or suffered the spontaneous combustion that seized everyone who hadn't managed to shake away their false memories in time, it's at least all over now. Or...mostly.

Any stray sirens that haven't been smashed by the event's end are still shrilling away, though their dangerous effects seem to have been rendered inert without the aid of the broken merotome spilling its memories into everyone else's heads. Likewise, a handful of automatons still wander the island of Nastrandir. Those that have not succumbed to mud and rust and irreparable damage are still capable of firing upon hostiles. Anyone who may have fought by their side before will discover that they're now far less friendly, and will treat former members of the Red Team just the same as they would with any other intruder: with deadly fire.

So you can pick yourselves up off the ground and clean up what remains, or you can say to yourselves: Fuck That, and instead head back to Ensō. Or you could elect to keep exploring Nastrandir, if you're truly a glutton for punishment.

Ensō: Am I Bleeding From the Neck Down
On Ensō and its accompanying islets, it's begun to rain.

It's not a genuine downpour, but more of a gentle, melancholy drizzle. The rain is cool and likely refreshing, particularly if one is just coming away from the humidity of Nastrandir.

Potentially as a form of apology, anyone who goes digging through their belongings will discover that one of the following has ended up in their packs:

[ ♆ ] If you were a member of the Red Team, you will discover that you now own a rather awkwardly-shaped object, about three feet in length. A set of written instructions will inform you that this is known as a redsword, and that, upon placed upon any wet area or body of water, will drain and dry it out over the course of five minutes. This item is single-use, and only works for a ten-foot radius.

[ ♆ ] If you were a member of the Blue Team, you will discover that you now own some very fetching footwear. A set of written instructions will inform you that these are called skip-skops, and can be used to walk on water or wet land without sinking or getting wet. Standard limitations when crossing between islands or attempting to go beyond LifeAftr's limits will still apply. This item is single-use, and will dissolve after one hour total.

[ ♆ ] If you were Neutral, you will discover that you now own, er, this. A set of written instructions will inform you that this object is called a furball, and that it works as a sort of miniature, diminished version of the sirens you spent all that time destroying on Nastrandir. Once planted, it will rapidly grow into a tall, screaming tree full of lorby-like creatures that automatically causes all natural animals in the vicinity to become aggressive for one hour, maximum. This item is single-use.

It's not much, but it might make some of the hell that you suffered through over the past few days worth it! Almost, anyway. In the meantime...relax, lick your wounds, and try and forgive yourselves for what's happened.

Please remember to let us know if your character perished in this event! Remember also that death penalties will be reduced following this event; characters will only need to contend with them for a week, and participation in Non-Compulsory AC will not be necessary in removing them.

If you're interested, the following links may prove handy:

[ ♆ ] OOC Event Info and Plotting Post
[ ♆ ] Nastrandir's Intro
[ ♆ ] Nastrandir's Locations Page
[ ♆ ] Search Requests Page
[ ♆ ] Deaths Page

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You were shot a lot. You were shot to death. I--are we even having this conversation right now? Did dying fuck up your memories?

[Which is an absolutely terrifying prospect given he knows Wash as the guy who remembers everything. He had Epsilon. He is memory. The key.]

Uh, sure, the Meta shot me once. But that was before the E.M.P. went off, and you were in it, so...

[The certainty in his tone starts to melt away as he straightens up, frowning.]

Wasn't that...what happened...?

Nnnnn...I...yyyyeah, that happened, but that's not the...most recent event.

[Church stands, wary, uncertain.]

Hey, Wash? Do you know where you are right now?

Sure, yeah. I'm on...what's the place. The island. That one.

[Okay, right now it's proving a little difficult to remember, but that's probably not a big deal, right? It's probably fine. He just needs to concentrate, and it'll be fine...]

The one that Kimball said we could use. Off the grid.

[It's good right up until Kimball.]

Who the hell is Kimball? Wash, you're on an island, but you're...shit, you don't remember anything, do you? Don't you remember? With the...cottages, and Tex and Maine and Carolina and the tigerlily?

With Tex? Tex is dead, Church. Don't you remember?

[He rubs at his throat again. For some reason, it feels like maybe he's pretty thirsty. Like he needs water. It just...really fucking aches there.]

Tex is here--oh my god. Death fucked with your head. Your head got fucked with over there, and now it's fucked with more. You don't remember anything.

Hey. Hey. I'm not the one who doesn't remember where he comes from, here. You didn't even want to admit you were the Alpha, last I checked.

[Death, he says. Yeah, sure. Except - he didn't die. He didn't die. He'd...remember if something like that happened. Right?]

Do you wanna go there right now, huh? We've had this conversation. We've had a lot of conversations. This isn't home. Does anything about this place scream home to you? I mean, sure, I guess if you've seen one tropical deserted island you've seen them all, but c'mon!

No, we...we went here. We...the guys, Carolina, we were done with all of it. Kimball got us somewhere to go so that we'd get a break from it.

[The words are lacking in conviction. Again, Wash reaches up to rub at his throat.]

...Washington. [The use of full 'name' feels more...serious. Grounding. Church is cautious and...wary, even frightened. He's ginger and slow in his approach, not only because that seems right to do with Wash in general and especially when he seems confused and lost, but also because Church feels like he's gonna rabbit at any sudden motion.

He takes Wash arms, a hand on each bicep, gentle. Being gentle is...hard, sometimes.]

You're confused right now. I dunno how to fix it. But it can be dangerous, so maybe...I should...show you where we live? And maybe some people here that know you [deliberately not saying friends he's not sure Wash allows himself to have something like friends] can talk to you and maybe it'll help spark a memory.

[This is weird. This is weird, and wrong, and he's sure that Church is dead, but he remembers that they weren't really talking about it, either. Caboose didn't want to think about it. About the fact that Church was gone. That Epsilon was...]

[This isn't...Epsilon.]

[There's a fog in his head. He just doesn't know how to clear it, and there's a weird sincerity going on here that he doesn't know how to deflect, so he just focuses on trying to breathe through the snow in his skull.]

I remember. I'm...I know I remember. Why don't you?

Do you remember what I did to you?

Wash. [His hands tighten a little.] Do you remember what I did?

You...saved me. You saved me from the Meta.

[No. No, that's the wrong Church. Try again.]

No. You - you saved all of us from Hargrove's forces. You sacrificed yourself so you could run the Meta's armor. You said goodbye to all of us. Caboose...

[No. No, how's that the wrong thing too?]

Said goodbye, huh? Nah, that doesn't sound like me. I did kinda save your ass from the Meta, though. I'll gladly take that one.

Come...c'mon, Wash, let's...I can come back here later, you...it sounds like you should rest. Maybe if you give it some time, it'll come back to you?

Epsilon. You...you're the one who should be dead.

[He doesn't sound entirely certain of himself, but that's...he knows that's how it's supposed to be. That was the last thing they did before the island. Hargrove. The Meta. Tucker.]

I'm not Epsilon.

And yeah. I should be dead.

[Maybe if he's calm and simple about this, this will be easier. Nothing about either of them is ever calm or simple.]

Why aren't...

[Why isn't Church dead? Church is never dead, right? He's always...fine. He always comes back. That was the hard thing about Caboose. About convincing him that it was for real, this time. Because every version of him was, wasn't it? So why -]

[His breathing's getting harder, sharper, and his vision starts fuzzing...]

Fuck. I don't -

Oooookay let's just sit here by the pool, and catch our breath. [He has zero problems at this point physically dragging Wash over to do just that if it defuses the situation, whatever this situation is.]

Just breathe, okay? Nice and slow and deep. How's it go, uh, in through the nose, out the mouth? Don't think about how fucked up my overall life and afterlife is, man, it'll only confuse you more.

[Wash is hardly in any position to dig in his heels. He's having enough trouble drawing breath, let alone struggling against being steered along to wherever Church wants him to go.]

It hurts.

[He tries to gesture at his throat, as if that might communicate that the act of breathing itself hurts, but then another subsequent spike of pain arrests him mid-thought.]

Oh. Shit. Uh.

[He's pretty sure he didn't shoot Wash in the throat, but who knows what happens when one gets resurrected on craphole island? He settles Wash down to the ground and hooks his hands under the helmet.]

Gonna take this off, we'll see what's going on.

[He's not a doctor oh god but he knows a doctor maybe he should get on the stones that are no longer stones necessarily and...call Faust? He eases the helmet off, trying very, very hard to clear the image of what was left when he last...saw Wash, alive or dead.]

You get hurt, uh, after waking up? Breathe anything weird? [Would he even know in this state?]

No...no, I was fine. I was fine.

[He fumbles with the catches on the helmet, thumbing at the release and then slowly, carefully, pulling it off.]

[He looks fine. The visible part of his neck looks fine. There's no evidence of any kind of injury that would have been induced by emptying an entire magazine into another man's face. He looks, physically, fine.]

You weren't. You weren't fine. Wash, you weren't fucking fine. This is fine! You're fine now, just--

You don't...you don't remember things right now.

Just breathe. Do you...have any reaction if I talk about heretics on an island or people coming from the water? None of that rings a bell? Have you heard any weird sirens or seen any flashing lights?

No. I mean -

[People coming from the water. Why does that sound familiar?]

I haven't heard anything. I mean, I haven't been hearing things. Everything just doesn't line up. It's like... [Like all the pieces got jarred out of place, and he can't quite figure out where they're supposed to come together.]

Do you want me to get a doctor? An actual doctor, not Doc. Cuz if you die this time, it is not gonna be my fault.

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