August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

[lifeaftr_mods]

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 )

Comments

[vagabone]

[It's a strain to look up, without so much as a neck, and Asgore stepping closer just makes the angle worse. Dude's a giant. Possibly even taller than Faust the circus freak.]

Uh, I'm not sure. I'd say go to the Denny, but I think I'd get everyone screaming.

[journalname]

Oh, I'm sure that is not true.

[Asgore crouches down, which...doesn't entirely help, but at least he's a bit shorter?]

Everyone knows that you are not a threat.

[vagabone]

Not because I'm a threat, because I'm missing my... everything.

[Not a guilt trip! No. Asgore doesn't need more guilt. Hastily:] It doesn't hurt or anything, it's fine, but they won't know that.

[journalname]

I...did not suppose it would hurt...

[Asgore's familiar with skeleton monsters who can separate their bones with no real trouble; that had honestly never occurred to him.]

I am sorry this has happened to you. You should not be the one to suffer for this.

[vagabone]

No, no. I'm not suffering.

[He's going to keep on saying that until the end of time, true or not. And... damn, he wants to shrug. He settles for crossing his eyes like a goober instead.]

I'm just bored. Big difference between suffering and boredom.

[journalname]

Well, it still cannot be pleasant.

[Asgore can keep on apologizing just as long!]

Is there anywhere else I could take you?

[vagabone]

[Can't rub his chin either. Or hold on to his hat. Yeesh, that good ol' pile of straw better not be gone forever.]

Well... What are you up to today? You could take me along. [He suggests, in a vaguely anxious way. Does any sensible person want an obnoxious blabbermouth skull companion, really. Asgore is only going to say yes from pity.]

[journalname]

I was...only planning on gardening.

[And then sitting inside alone, stewing in guilt. But we don't need to describe the entire schedule.]

Of course you can come if you like. I do not suppose it is very exciting to watch.

[vagabone]

[Sheer persistence and acting like things is normal will surely convince the big guy everything is okay. Right?]

Oh, that's fine. I don't do much exciting anyway. Feed the cat. Play cards. Cook or something, whatever comes up.

[...All of which requires hands.]

[journalname]

Very well.

[Asgore is, perhaps, not the most eager to hang out with the man he murdered all day. But it's really the least he can do. He'd do anything Hector asked of him, now.]

Let me draw some water, first. I will need it for the plants.

[vagabone]

[Has to be done. Can't let King Goat thing he's hated now. It was self defense, and you can't murder a dead guy who comes right back...]

No problem.

[journalname]

[You certainly can murder a dead guy who comes right back, Asgore's done it!

He nods and goes to draw the water. It's quick work, for him; the provided buckets are not a great weight to him even when full, and he can easily heft one in a single paw. When he's got it, he leans down again to look Hector over anxiously. It's not that carrying him will be any difficulty, it's just...he feels like Hector might crumble to dust the second he touches him.]

Shall I...pick you up? [well yes obviously, but he needs explicit permission right now]

[vagabone]

[It gives him enough time to reconsider. Maybe this is too much to ask. Maybe he's being just plain mean.

Maybe he's a wishywashy old fool.]

...no, you don't really have to if you don't want.

[journalname]

No, no, it is quite alright.

[It's not, but Asgore's an old fool who can't say no to people on the best of days.]

[vagabone]

No, you don't look...

[The big guy does not look okay in the slightest. And he, Héctor, is once again the asshole. Nothing new there.]

Sorry, amigo.

[journalname]

Please do not apologize to me.

[Oh, no, he's ruined it. But knowing Hector isn't happy being out here alone, Asgore can't in good conscience leave him there.]

Come, it is quite alright.

[vagabone]

You first.

[Why must everything be so difficult? For a moment he looks tired and then it's gone.]

It wasn't your fault. I was hurting people myself. Everyone was, so. You don't owe me anything.

[journalname]

I could have done more to...to resist it, or something like that. Others were able to stop themselves. I just...

[He was happier that way. Even being a murderer, even so full of hate, he had a family around him and he wanted them. He's sure that's why.]

[vagabone]

I couldn't resist it either. You heard me.

[He'll never, ever be able to resist getting to her. He can't. He won't. It's the one thing he can never do.]

[journalname]

Perhaps you could have, had you lived.

[Asgore had much more time to break free of the spell himself. He didn't. If Crowley hadn't come after him, talked to him, walked him back to Enso, he wouldn't have.]

[vagabone]

No. No, I know I wouldn't have. I know myself enough to be sure. I... thought they had my daughter.

[And. Well. Explains a lot, doesn't it?]

tw: suicidal ideation, child death mention

[journalname]

[...oh.

Asgore rears back on his heels, face immediately dropping. His daughter. Of course Asgore hadn't taken Hector's child, but...but that's only luck, isn't it? He easily could have, if things were different. If their worlds were the same - if the child climbed the mountain - he would have.

He should have let Hector kill him. It would have been deserved.]

...I see...

[vagabone]

Hey, hey. Take it easy.

[Somehow, despite the subject matter, he manages to sound soothing.]

She's fine, in real life. She's still alive. About to turn a hundred years old... which is really impressive for, uh, humans. She's okay.

[journalname]

Oh.

[Asgore looks less horrified at that, although he still sounds like he's sort of mentally checking out. Any other time, perhaps, he could have managed this conversation just fine. Now - well, he was thinking of his children on Nastrandir too, even if he didn't realize it at the time.

He isn't going to mention it. Hector would feel sorry for him, and he does not deserve that.]

How wonderful.

[vagabone]

[A pause. A long pause. His eyes are closed. It's easier to pretend the rest of his body is there if he doesn't have to see its absence...

He doesn't have the faintest idea what's going on inside Asgore's head, what exactly he keeps stepping in, what the right thing to say could possibly be... and that's the worst.]

Look, why don't we try this again tomorrow? A fresh start, every day is a brand new day, and all that.