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

Yes! YES! Thank you, merciful deity of the dreamscape! With a renewed sense of hope and his fighting spirit reignited, Faust leaps back from the doorway and reaches into the eldritch unknown within his coat, grasping for his giant weapon! He may not be able to cut through the creature's foul bindings, but his weapon of choice was specifically built to channel his ki! Without enough focus, he'll be able to slice right through their tainted mass and-!

"...wuh?"

-and there is an anthropomorphic plant inside the clinic. A very alarmed, concerned-looking anthropomorphic plant, gently cradling their freshly-singed tendrils. Ginko is on his feet, the half-troll's voice hoarse to his patented doctoral hearing, and they're staring at him like...like he just...
Oh. Ooooh no.
He's done it again, hasn't he?

"...a-ah, that...that's perfectly alright! No...no harm done...ahahaha..."

Faust all but wrenches his eyehole away from the plantoid and pulls his cup back out, hurriedly drinking the remainder of the contents down to buy himself enough time to conjure up a vaguely appropriate response to...all of this. Maybe if he chugs his tea down hard enough, he'll choke on it and save himself from the shame of the unprofessional display he just put on.

Well, nobody is dead or dismembered, and only one person is hurt, so Ginko supposes he should be grateful for that.

And at least Epsilon probably doesn't have to keep wondering whether Ginko needs space from him after what happened. The instant Faust disengages, Ginko is on his way to Epsilon's side. He'll just... deal with this while Faust is busy trying to drink his shame away, then they can sort this out. "Let me see - how deep is it?"

He's so taken aback by the bag-headed giant's reaction to his apology that he ends up with the conclusion that the best reply is not to speak to him again.

In context, it's easy to do. As relieved as Epsilon would like to be about the speed with which Ginko responds, he's extremely unenthusiastic about its cause--not to mention the sight of just how deeply these same vines bruised Ginko's throat just days ago.

His grip on the steaming vine tightens, his fingers pressing into the still-hot splits in its wood.

Which turn out to be a few inches deep, and wet with sap and oils.

"I'm not sure--but Ginko, your neck."

Faust almost doesn't notice the interactions happening between Ginko and this peculiar newcomer, but his cup is depleted of its herbal deliciousness far too quickly for his liking, and...honestly? He's quite surprised with the familiarity these two are showing one another, sincere concern bared so freely that the good doctor begins to worry if he's now audience to the kind of intimacy that he absolutely should not be audience to. Perhaps he should...give them some privacy.
He'll politely turn away and start to silently shuffle away from the two, eyehole carefully scanning the room for Mini, just in case he has to intercept any of the familiar's attempts at mischief.

"Hey-- don't do that, you might make it worse." He sets his hands on Epsilon's, aiming to pull his fingers gently away from the splits in the vine, or at least loosen his grip. And he is very gentle about it; he knows Epsilon isn't quite so fragile as he looks, but his hands in particular always seem so small and delicate next to Ginko's own. Especially considering his own inhuman strength, he feels like he's got to be careful.

He can't fully ignore Epsilon's comment, though, can he. Shit. He glances up at him and manages a small smile as he examines the fissures in his vine. "It's already healing. I'm alright."

...Of course, that's only going to be so convincing when his voice is still hoarse and the bruises are still visible and Epsilon is still Epsilon. They'll need to talk about it in more depth later, that much is for sure - but not while Ginko is looking over Epsilon's much fresher injury. And just pushing the topic back to that probably won't work very well.

One of his ears flicks at the sound of movement, and he turns to see Faust apparently trying to sneak off. Ah, perfect. That should be cleared up anyway - properly, not just with Faust stumbling over himself and then trying to leave the room.

"Uh-- Faust, this is Epsilon. He's a friend from that last world I mentioned."

Epsilon's frown leaves deep furrows in the bark around his mouth and eyes, a strange visual effect--he knows exactly what Ginko is doing because he would also rather not focus on his own injury. Although he certainly understands Ginko's motive is a bit different, there is an equal argument that the shared nature of its origin means Ginko's injuries are much more Epsilon's business than his own is Ginko's.

It may be for the better that Ginko diverts the topic back to Faust's presence, or the two of them would no doubt have their hands all over each other, arguing about whose injury demands more attention right now.

His frown fades and the corners of his mouth rise into a faint, thin, sad smile. His long lashes make it hard to tell if it reaches his eyes.

"I'm sorry about the surprise. We're all on edge, perhaps."

Ah, it appears he has been busted. Looks like his time is up, and he must now face the music.
Narrowly avoiding tripping up on the errant scalpel from earlier, Faust turns to properly address Ginko's compatriot, fixing his tie and straightening his stance until the top of his bag hits the ceiling. Make eye contact, and whatever you do, do not look at the tendrils, Faust...

"Pardon me for my earlier outburst, young Epsilon. I am Doctor Faust - I'm the deputy medical director here at the clinic, as well as..."

A physician? A surgeon? A cleric? He's many things, but perhaps after all that's happened, what he should really be introducing himself as is-

"-Ginko's friend. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Could I offer you something for...the, uhm, burning?"

He's too busy internally cringing at his awkward attempts at salvaging this to really acknowledge the fact he just openly declared his friendship with the young half-troll, especially considering what Ginko evidently considers as proof of friendship. Better to not think about that for now. Definitely.

So far, so good. Ginko's ears give a faint, surprised flick at being outright referred to as Faust's friend. It's not an unpleasant surprise, but he rarely expects people to consider him a friend at all - particularly not after as short a time as he's known Faust. One of those things that he half-expects he should have gotten used to by now, and yet.

It doesn't hurt that Faust conveniently put attention back on what Ginko is most concerned with here. He realizes that his hand is still on Epsilon's, and quickly releases his grip in favor of turning to look at that vine again. "I don't think we've got burn ointment here that would help wood much - but there might be something to be done. As long as you don't keep touching it."

"It doesn't hurt much, actually." Epsilon manages to sound apologetic for that, which he is. Both his role in... uh, setting things off and for not feeling pain in the way a human would. Not to mention the trouble his newly damaged vine presents them, medically.

"It wouldn't really make sense for a robot to be debilitated by damage." Which is why Ginko's injuries are more concerning, by the way. He catches the troll's tiny gesture of surprise, but doesn't comment on it out of courtesy.

"But thank you for the apology..." He lets go of the vine, but the end of it coils around his forearm instead, ending at his wrist. "... and if its any consolation, it may heal on its own, given time. Trees are surprisingly resilient."

Hold up.

"...forgive me for intruding, but...you're a synthetic, young Epsilon?"

There are absolutely far more important things to be worrying about right now, and yet the one detail he focuses in on is Epsilon's apparent robotic nature...despite literally looking like he stepped right out of a fey realm. Come to think of it, such a comparison wouldn't be wholly uncalled for regarding Ginko, either...
Wait. This Epsilon fellow is Ginko's 'friend from the last world'...then...his injuries, the plant tendrils...!
Regardless of what kind of answer he receives to his inquiry, the good doctor is left effectively gawking beneath his bag from the realisation of just who he is talking to. To say Ginko's reluctance to talk about this was completely justified feels like an understatement, at this point.

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't do something about it if we can," Ginko gripes quietly. But at least Epsilon has stopped touching the split; that'll have to be good enough for the moment.

Besides, he doesn't want to interrupt right now, given what Faust just asked. He tucks his hands into his pockets and watches Epsilon quietly.

".... please, just Epsilon. 'Young' would imply I age, which I do not. Not in that way, at any rate." He smiles, faintly. Possibly ruefully; possibly just with a touch of self-awareness. As with many of his expressions, this smile is ambiguous, which is... not an accident.

However--

"I think I would qualify as 'a synthetic,' yes. Or I did. I'm more the exact opposite now."

There's a dry undertone.

Yes, he's a robot. Yes, he's a tree. Yes, he has a sense of humour.

...not only is Faust's question effectively left unanswered, but he is now burdened with even more questions about this...organic...synthetic...person. A particularly snarky part of the good doctor's brain cannot resist pointing out that the complete ambiguity of Epsilon's 'answer' may as well be a perfect antithesis to Legion's almost obsessive amount of flat honesty.
Regardless, the sheer vagueness of the current situation grasps Faust with such an intensity that even the very bag upon his head scrunches up in bafflement, betraying his real facial expression underneath.

"...I'll spare you the details: I am capable of healing magic, but it only works on organic material. If you are suggesting you are a hybrid of sorts, I fear I genuinely do not know how effective my abilities would be - if at all."

Considering the tendril's reaction to his more invasive form of ki infusion, it's very likely the reaction will be subdued enough to be rendered borderline useless. Or worse, it may bungle up Epsilon's sensitive systems and cause unpredictable amounts of damage.
In summary - it's not worth it. Doctor's professional opinion.

Well, technically, he did answer. He was synthetic, and now he's very much organic. Really, it's exactly the kind of fully accurate but potentially frustratingly ambiguous answer Faust should probably get used to if he plans to hang around Epsilon or Ginko.

So far as he knows, Epsilon is entirely organic now - but that's not really his to answer. So, instead, he just adds, "If you aren't sure, we might want to err on the side of caution. Just keeping the split part of the vine bound together should help if we can't do anything else."

Yes, he knows Epsilon already said it may heal on his own. No, he does not want to risk leaving it totally untreated.

Epsilon had thought he was being clear, and truthfully, he is still certain of that fact. Humans miss things in ways that robots don't, however, and this isn't the first time he's used less direct language (less blunt, less "robotic") and been misinterpreted due to some mistake of attention on the other person's part.

"I'm organic material," Epsilon repeats patiently. "At one time I was what you would call 'a synthetic' and what I would call a robot, but my material composition was replaced completely months ago. There is very little difference to it except that my AI can no longer be accessed or altered and memory is no longer stored on a removable drive." He pauses.

"If your magic works on trees, it should work on me. But I'd rather you not try."

Oh. He was originally a robot, but was then synthesised into this...mostly-organic nymph-like form?
...Faust is far too technologically inept for this subject, if he's being completely honest. So he's just going to solemnly nod like he fully understands the implications of what is being said - which he absolutely does not, but he is missing out a healthy chunk of context as well, so your mileage may vary - and kneel down to pick up the abandoned scalpel on the floor.
Yes, it may be a little insensitive to wield that with which he attacked Epsilon with seconds prior, but someone's likely going to trip up on it at some point if he forgets about it. Or worse, Mini could get a hold of it...!

"That's fine - I wouldn't be comfortable administering such experimental treatment, either. That said, could I at least offer you a bandage for your troubles? I fully trust in your resilience, but...have you been affected by spiritual-based...damage, before, Epsilon?"

Because that's what you've just become victim of, thanks to Faust's newfound inability to think first before acting, and he has a hunch that nobody in this room has any idea how extensive or complicated the damage actually is. Unfortunately, Faust is a people doctor, not a tree doctor (or roboticist), so he's far less qualified to even hazard a guess as to what diagnosis to give, especially when compared to Epsilon himself or even Ginko.

Epsilon smiles wanly.

"Probably not the way you mean, but it would be dishonest to say 'no' without additional information."

He makes eye contact with Ginko and holds it for a solid second, giving him at least some warning that this might get uncomfortable. The difficulty of explaining the legacy of hate that has been passed onto him is that he is absolutely certain its nature is not spiritual... and not at all certain that it hasn't taken on spiritual properties in his transitions between worlds.

His smile turns rueful, in an amused helplessness kind of way.

"A bandage would be appreciated, though."

The good doctor takes notice of the pointed look sent Ginko's way, and immediately acknowledges the potential implications behind it by giving Epsilon an almost imperceptible nod before addressing them proper.

"Please don't feel obligated to share anything you're not comfortable with sharing - I only wish to ensure that you are as happy and healthy as possible, as with all denizens of this corner of...'reality'. Tell me as little or as much as you want, Epsilon. As for the bandage...ah, young Ginko! Could you please fetch the bandage roll for me? It's on the uppermost shelf in the storage, they should have a sharp, herbal aroma, you can't miss them."

Yes, he could just produce the roll out of his coat. Yes, he knows Ginko knows that. He also knows Ginko is smart enough to know Faust is giving him an out, however temporary. It's his decision if he chooses to take it or not, but it's reassuring to see that Epsilon at least trusts the half-troll with whatever they're about to discuss. Even if it's clearly going to be some degree of unpleasant.

He knows what that look means, alright, though he only responds with a single thump of his tail against the ground. Whether Epsilon chooses to go into it or not, he knows what to expect.

What he does not expect, though, is for Faust to try to send him off. Ginko appreciates the attempt at taking his comfort into account, but... it's not like this is a topic that he and Epsilon haven't already been over in some depth. He raises his eyebrows slightly, considering for a moment whether there's any way to be considerate in giving his answer.

"You have some on you, right? I'll step out if Epsilon wants me to, but otherwise I should be fine here."

Yeah that's about the closest he's got.

Epsilon's unhelpful addition to this exchange is a huff of restrained laughter, which he doesn't bother to hide. The act of 'hiding' it would have been strictly performative anyway, but he has no reason to feign a reaction like that.

"It's not a very cheery topic... perhaps we can save it for another time. The best I can describe it without detail is that it's a bit like being possessed, were it possible to be possessed by the emotions of others. It's something I brought with me from my version of Earth, unwittingly."

He pauses. "In any case, I have no idea if bandaging a vine will help it heal. The oil of this tree species has medical use, however, so it would be better to take advantage of that while you can."

...well okay then, that's...okay, sure. The good doctor hasn't touched a possession case since...since...too long, let's just go with 'too long'. Point is, that's not something they're here to deal with right now. So Faust reaches into his coat, produces the previously mentioned roll of bandages...and makes all of one steps forward towards Epsilon, cup brandished in one hand and bandages in the other. Time to crack down and...get to...work...?

"...right then, I'll just...uh..."

And it's about here that Faust really, REALLY stops to take a look at how this entire situation as a whole has unfolded thus far:
A half-troll half-human marred with prominent strangulation wounds shuffling around awkwardly, trying to pretend he hasn't already proven to anyone with a functioning nervous system that he's trying and failing not to experience strong emotions for his 'friend'.
A half-nymph half-robot with prehensile vines extending out from their body, one of which with a small chunk thoroughly barbecued and freshly-dripping with weird tree juice, apologising for getting injured to begin with and offering to have their oils harvested for use in a medical institution.
And a nine-foot-something actually-fully-human doctor frozen mid-motion with a roll of bandages in one hand and an empty cup in the other, fully prepared to harvest the half-nymph half-robot's oils - of which the doctor is completely responsible for the exposure of, by the way - before wrapping it up in a wholly doomed attempt at preventing infection or whatever it is Epsilon can even catch that's bad for them.

............................................................

"...h...ha...hahaha-!"

This is so, *so* stupid.

"-ha...haHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH-!!!"

This is easily one of the most ridiculous situations the good doctor has ever found himself in. After all the stress and the worry and the fear it's just...good grief. Good bloody grief. He can't *not* find this absolutely hysterical.
It's all the good doctor can do to not double over entirely, howling with sincere, honest-to-god laughter that reverberates off of the walls and carries itself far outside into the wilderness, levity flooding the entire room and cleansing Faust of any and all negativity he's put himself through in the past five minutes. He has to drop his cup to the floor and place his free hand upon his head, just to prevent his bag from slipping too far off from the constant bouncing it is now going through. Somewhere in the office, Mini is probably rolling on their back and pounding the floorboards with their tiny fists.

"-w...pffff, w-what ARE doing w-with ourselves?! AH-HAH! HAHAHAHA-!"

Laughter, truly, is the best medicine.

Ginko really, really doesn't know how to feel about the idea of harvesting Epsilon's body fluids for medical use, but-- he guesses it probably won't make his condition any worse? So there's probably no reason to stop Faust from going ahead--

Or this could happen. Ginko startles and takes a step toward Faust, his hands raised slightly. Without knowing Faust's thought process, this is just... bizarre and kind of alarming. Which makes it worrying. "--Are you alright?!"

Epsilon's blink is slow, not so much alarmed as not completely certain of whether this situation is supposed to be alarming.

His eyes dart to Ginko, in part hoping to get a better idea from him, but it's immediately clear that Ginko is at least as uncertain as Epsilon is, if not more. He doesn't know Faust well enough. Ginko isn't sure, either.

His vine begins to pull back, a slow slithering out of Faust's grasp, his head lifted and expression cautious.

And he hates--hates--that his fears are as much for Faust's welfare as the possibility of needing to act in self defence.

To his credit, the good doctor acknowledges how this must look, and holds his free hand up in a motion meant to be placating. It takes a few seconds longer for him to get the last dying vestiges of cackles and chuckles out, but once they've been dealt with...

"...oh, please do forgive me, both of you...I just...realised I was about to milk a nymph's open wound with this, dainty little cup, And I-"

An idea hits him. To better show everyone in the room that he is, in fact, genuinely okay, Faust places his bandage-grasping hand over his bag as if to pinch his nose...and subtly pushes up. Hoping nobody catches onto the fact he's not actually doing it unconsciously, the paper veil rises far enough that Faust's mouth can be clearly seen when he continues speaking - as can the wide, genuine smile upon his lips.

"-and...and it sounds just like a line out of a terrible horror novel, and when I thought of it like that, I just...oh good lord, I'm so sorry if I frightened either of you. This entire meeting has been remarkably unconventional, even by my standards!"

It's a pity he may be the only one in the room who thinks this whole event hasn't been anything less than completely eldritch in how literally otherworldly it has been. And he comes from a world where hordes of genocidal killing machines run rampant in the wilds!

August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

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I really need an icon of this face, but I'm too tired to get it off his old account

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Wait it's been OVER A WEEK?! I thought it was like? FIVE DAYS?

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