lifeaftr | August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

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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

[Carolina gives a small pat on the tigerlily's head, before giving a little push to have the cat stalk off a little. While she never would have thought of herself as a pet person, she does actually enjoy its company.]

Wash. You're not fine. Take a seat.

[Suggestion, command, order... Either way, her gaze is pointed and as much as they all tend to be emotionally constipated, it's clear something is up.]

[It's easy to take orders. It's Carolina. Closest thing he had to a C.O., back in Freelancer. She was...she is...the person he remembers clearest, for some reason. Like he's seen her most, in recent days. Even if he's sure that he hasn't - ]

[Has he?]

[He starts to sink slowly, almost dazedly, to the ground.]

Carolina...what're you doing here?

[Well, she had meant maybe on something, but that works as well, as she squats in turn.]

Meaning what, exactly?

[As that sentence of his could be read in any number of ways, especially with how he is acting. Arguably, she had come here to check on everyone, but she's not entirely sure that is what he is getting at. There is a flick of her chin upwards, towards his helmet.]

Remove it.

[The fact that it's issued like a command causes him to respond almost immediately - reaching beneath the chin, thumbing at the releases, sliding it off with the soft hiss of a venting pressure seal.]

[Underneath, he looks...fine. Normal, even. Sleepless as ever, scarred as ever, his hair a tousled, blindingly blonde mess, but he doesn't look injured.]

[He looks fantastic for a man whose face was caved in by a full magazine, just a few days ago.]

I didn't see you before. Before all...this.

[There's no obvious sign of any injury, although Carolina knows that it doesn't mean that something didn't happen. Not all wounds are visible to the naked eye. That hard stare lingers, a furrow in her forehead, eyes slightly narrowed, before sharply exhaling.

A hand runs through her own red strands, rocking slightly back on her heels.]

... you do remember where you are, right? This place?

'Course I do. It's the island. The island - Kimball set us up, and everything.

[He sounds completely assured of this. It doesn't occur to him that he'd be wrong. This is an island, and the first memory to present itself concerning an island is that one. Why wouldn't it be correct?]

[For a moment, there is a a flash of relief, as he knows he is on the island.

But... But then he speaks and no, no that's not right at all. But why? Had he left and returned with no memories? He'd be the one who she would turn to with questions about this place, yet that's not possible. ]

Kimball had nothing to do with this, Wash.

...I mean, she'd have to. Right? She put us here. She said we'd...that was the deal.

[This doesn't make any sense. Her words, sure, those are confusing enough, but even worse is her expression. Like someone's died. That's never a good thing.]

...Carolina? You...okay?

You don't remember anything about the Storyteller?

[Starting with something about this place that you learn on arrival, not that you learn too much. They're as cheap with answers as Carolina is with emotions. Still, it is something, as the two islands are as different as islands come. Well, somewhat. They had gotten in to shenanigans back home too, or some of them had.]

I.

[He's about to say no, but the words sound familiar. That's not good. If it's familiar, he should remember. He should remember. He should...]

Remind me?

This place is an island- plenty of islands, but not ours. LifeAftr.

[Green eyes flickering across his face, looking for any hint of recognition, or any hint of anything. Had he gotten a concussion?]

The Storyteller is the deity that rules here.

[His brow furrows. It doesn't sound...out of place. It sounds right, even. He remembers this place. Vaguely, but he...remembers it. Or he remembers the sound of it.]

I should remember this, shouldn't I?

Probably, and there's likely some reason you're not.

[Not that this information helps him in the least, but it would explain some things anyway. Out of their group, he had been here the longest, knew the most, might even be able to explain things if the situation were reversed. Right now, Carolina's trying to put the puzzle pieces together.]

I woke up in some sort of temple. At least, that's...what I think it was. It looked like a temple?

[The Storyteller's Temple, actually. Not that he recognized it right away.]

Temple?

[There is a pause at that, something nibbling on the back of her mind that she just can't bring forward. Like an elusive word, it refuses to form on her tongue, stuck and stubborn.]

What exactly did it look like?

Uh.

[He closes his eyes, trying to shape up the picture. For some reason, the act increases the pressure of the headache he hadn't realized was building behind his eyes.]

Kind of...ruined-looking. There was an altar in the middle? There was a door, and it was open, so I just walked on out.

Well, there are a variety of temples.

[So that doesn't really aide too much, other than confirming that he appeared to be in one. Did they all have alters though? She thought that the Storyteller's did, but the rest? She knew the location of some, having explored, but she is by no means an expert.]

You don't remember- you'd been acting strange, because of this place, no doubt.

[Him and plenty of others.]

Strange...how?

[Stranger than he has been now? How more or less like himself is he acting right now?]

People were choosing sides, one or the other, with no rhyme or reason.

[Most, anyway. Carolina had come across some who hadn't been frenzied enough to pick one team over the other. Clearly it was one of those things with this place.]

Choosing sides on what? A fight? Is that why I -

[He stops before he completes the sentence. Reaches up to scratch at the underside of his throat, which itches and aches in a way he can't fully enunciate to himself.]

Why can't I remember?

[She wishes that she has an easy answer, but easy has rarely been anything that they can be called. Perhaps some times they make life harder on themselves, and sometime life just gets back at them, for all she knows.

She runs a hand through her hair, hating her lack of answers.]

It... may be temporary. This place isn't exactly normal, even by our standards.

[There's a swell of sour-tasting panic in the back of his throat, clinging there like static. He swallows, hard, trying to force it down. Is he losing his mind - losing his memory? Losing it all again?]

I'm not forgetting everything again. I...I can't do that again.

Hey. Hey.

[There's a hand that aims for his shoulder, to give a hard squeeze, to draw him back from that path to return to the present. Ground him here and now.]

We don't know that this actually is that yet, Wash.

[Her hand's on his shoulder, a grounding pressure that forces him to breathe, to try and just - and just slow it all down for a second.]

I've lost something. I've definitely... [He rubs at his throat, at the burning sensation eating away at his neck.]

I'm not remembering what I should.

And we'll figure it out. Whatever has happened.

[Even if she has to talk to every person and being in the island to get an answer.]

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