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

If they return. If that's what you want to do.

[Not like she would strong arm him- okay, maybe she might, a little (or a lot at times), in some circumstances- but it is only one option. There are others. Move around, try to jog his memory. Ask others if they are suffering the same.]

If...right. Hard to have a military schedule on a, on an abandoned desert island.

[The nervous chuckle escapes him before he can stop it. It's - it's just a really, really good thing that Carolina is the one person who he doesn't terribly mind, if she sees him like this. She's seen him at his lowest before. Back in the Project. And...and after.]

[It's getting hard to remember. Again, he massages at his throat.]

You don't have to...stay. If you don't want to.

It's a Church and Tex.

[As if that explains everything right there. She can't say that she knows what either of them are up to that well. It's still a bit weird to think about, considering who and what they were and are, and with Epsilon...

But they could be together, or separate, doing who the hell knew what. Hell, maybe Church shot himself in the metaphorical foot and is trapped down a well. She wouldn't put anything past this place.

Green eyes do turn, hold, and pin him with a look.]

I know. But I do.

[He's not very good at masking the relief that comes from that assertion. It's Carolina. She's an unshakable fucking rock. Always has been. Or at least - what his memories, and what his instincts supply suggest as much.]

...thanks.

[A low, shaky breath. Part of a smile. He's far from his baseline security, but having her here makes it, however incrementally, easier.]

[There's a little nudge, shoulder against his armoured arm.

It's true. He wasn't good at hiding it, but Carolina's also not going to draw attention to it. No doubt it's troubling enough, what he's going through. To forget everything... At least she had come back with her memories, or most of them. She had no idea how she had left in the first place.]

Don't mention it. Come on. You've got a change of clothes there, if you want to get out of your armour.

[Get out of his armor. Feels like a second skin to him, and yet he should probably get out of it at some point, right? If she says so - he remembers, distinctly, de-armoring in locker rooms on the Mother of Invention, wearing ordinary civvies around the ship, taking off his helmet. Remembers just as clearly staying shelled in it for months on end.]

...right.

[It's a doubled sensation, and not one he can entirely grasp.]

I'll...do that.

You can keep it on, if you want.

[Although she would have to explain some of the aspects of this place to him about it. It's not impossible to keep charged, but it takes more work than some of the places that they've been. Of course, a bit less comfortable too in their residences.]

But it might be a little... cozy.

No, it's fine. I should, uh...I'll see what I've got. In there.

[Blink. Try and gauge which room is his by sight alone, and ultimately fail to come up with anything conclusive.]

...which one's mine?

[She knows that he has a variety of items that he has collected, both on his own and leftovers from others when they left. It's not like there is anything that screams out who belongs to which room, at least not with the doors closed, and so long as he hasn't moved his since she was there.

She gives a nod towards one of them.]

That one, last I knew.

...thanks.

I'll, uh. I'll be back, I guess.

[He lived in pretty spartan conditions, all things considered, but the wardrobe makes it pretty apparent that this is the right one. All those cats and camo patternings, along with a shirt that reads NOT A COP in bold letterings - that twitches some faint familiarity in the back of his head. Yeah, that's his room, all right.]

[Just feels weird to have a room at all, in the first place.]

[But it's better than nothing.]

I'll be outside on the steps.

[She'll give him his time and his space. No doubt it will be strange to walk in to a space that should clearly be his, but that he doesn't remember at all. Maybe it will jog some memories?]

[He comes out wearing something absurd - something that would be more comical if it weren't stirring a trail of painful associations.]

...C.T. gave me this. I mean, I think she did. I remember that she did.

[Her head turns towards him, and it is all that she can do to keep a straight face. It's... something else. Yet she does recall the pile of clothing that had arrived, and the lack of taste in many of the items. Perhaps from that time?]

... it wasn't me.

[After all, the two of them had been close. Unless Wash had picked it out himself, she could see CT finding it and giving it to him. Wash did have a cat thing.]

But see? You remember.

Vaguely. I don't know how long ago it was.

[And he's not sure he should be asking for a timetable here.]

But...yeah. I think it was her. I don't know, but I think it was.

[She might be able to give an approximate timeline, if asked. Or at least a guess, as Carolina knew that CT had been here before she arrived and had gone by the time that she left. Either Wash had picked it out for himself, or CT had. Carolina certainly wouldn't have.]

Considering who the cat enthusiasts are.

You think it was a joke? I mean, you wouldn't...I wouldn't know, but I guess if someone were to know out of the two of us, it'd be me, right?

[He's rambling. He's - god, it's like he's a rookie all over again. Doesn't know how to shut his goddamn mouth.]

Joke. Mutual comradery.

[She shrugs, giving a wayward smile. Could be a bit of both, honesty. A twisted sense of humour? There was a need for clothing, as it isn't like they can go to the store and buy what they wanted.]

Something like that.

[He stares down at the ridiculous sweater, then shoves his hands into his pockets. That's weird. Having pockets. He's gone so long sheathed in armor - has too many memories of walking around skinned in it - that it's a strange compulsion. Muscle memory. Picks up what he doesn't.]

My head still hurts.

[She still feels naked, even now, despite wearing clothing. It's not armour, as if that would protect them all, even though it doesn't always. It's still that sense of safety and security though, another layer that makes it harder to take them down. So she understands what he's saying even though he's not saying anything.]

Might have zonked it, or might be an after effect of whatever's happening.

Maybe. I don't...suppose you have any painkillers, do you?

[He keeps tracing at his neck with his hand, cupping at an injury that doesn't exist - entry and exit wounds that haven't happened yet.]

Surprisingly, I do.

[She had woken up to a first aid kit next to her, and she had barely used it to date. A few things here and there that she needed. Scissors, mainly, as she hadn't actually taken too much damage since she had arrived.]

I can go get 'em.

...that'd be nice, actually.

[God, his head's killing him. So is his neck. Everything else, the parts of him that he'd assume would be sore, feel fine. He doesn't feel like he's just run a marathon. He doesn't feel like he's groaning through the muscle soreness he'd anticipate after...what? Death and resurrection?]

[But, hey. It's death. What's he know?]

There's back at my camp.

[As she rises, hand pausing for a moment, before giving his shoulder a light squeeze.]

You're good waiting here?

Yeah. Yeah, I should be good.

[How hard can just be sitting in one place be? He runs a hand along the smooth wood of the building exterior, then nods, mostly to assure himself.]

It'll be fine.

[She gives him a pointed look, that seems to say, are you trying to jinx it? Carolina nods though, turning.]

Give me ten, and I'll be back.

[It's not super far away, but she will still boot it over.]

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