lifeaftr | 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

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.]

All right.

[He'll just...sit here in the meantime. His grasp of linear time isn't that great to begin with. He doesn't mind waiting.]

[Really, it's not much more than a blink of an eye.]

[It's not like he can get in to trouble anyway... Although she doesn't actually let that thought go any further. She might return to a statue, or a frog, or any number of circumstances that her mind can't even think up.

But she does book it, returning in under the ten minutes, small package in one hand, that she holds out to him.]

Thanks.

[He hasn't moved very much in the interim, though his sitting position has officially transitioned into a "perpetually massaging his temples" position. He takes it, shakes out a few painkillers, swallows them dry.]

God, it's like a nail in the head.

[It does have Carolina looking at his head, as if there might actually be a nail sticking in there that she had somehow missed. It would be a rather strange nail, as she would have noticed the blood from the wound, but in a place where plants grow on your skin, who is to say.

She takes a silent seat next to him, elbows resting on her own knees as she temples her fingers, resting her chin in turn on them.]

I couldn't keep track of everyone. If I had- [Well, maybe he wouldn't be in this position.]

...that's not your fault. There was too much going on.

[Even missing half his memories, and what feels like half of his brain tissue, he knows, remembers, that no one's harder on Carolina than she is on herself.]

[It feels like he knows someone who'd make an innuendo at that thought, but he doesn't remember who...or why.]

[There was, and yet there is only a few of them here. Less than back at home. And, if she's being honest, she might be kicking herself over it.]

See? You're already remember what's in my head.

I remember that you tend to push yourself.

[Even vague memories are enough to know that it's - it's Carolina. It's the woman who was number one on the leaderboard until she wasn't, who pushed herself so intensely and fought so hard that it was unreal to him that she could keep going.]

[He remembers Carolina because she was the tether that kept them fighting, most days.]

... Sometimes.

[All the time... Although she hasn't pushed herself until her suit shut down recently. That counts for something, right?

There's that shift, to give a light nudge on his shoulder.]

But you've always got my back, even if I don't always see it.

Even if I don't remember it either, huh?

[His smile is uneven, a wry, pained twist to one side of his mouth.]

I guess that's the best we can do.

[A pause.]

We'll figure something out if and when the time comes.

[She's not entirely certain. A few hours, a day, a week? Is it something about this place? Either way, she'd track down anyone or anything that could possibly help if it doesn't.]

...yeah. Okay.

[That's the most they can do. The most anyone can do. Wait for his memories to come back? Wait. Don't confront the psychological panic that starts to arise from the mere thought that this might not happen. Doesn't matter. Worry about it if it comes to that.]

[Figure it out if the time comes. Not when.]

You wanna go rest, or?

[She's not certain how much rest he would actually get, but running around with a headache isn't exactly her idea of a good time. Would she do it? If the situation called for it, certainly.]

Yeah. Yeah, I think I probably should.

[Maybe that'll finally ease the worst of the ache that's gathered around his temples, mantled itself over his throat.]

Good. Keep me updated.

[And yes, that is a command, although Carolina would camp out around the little building anyway. Things don't usually go sideways quite so quickly after an event, but one never knows.]

Sure. Sure thing, boss.

[The words are automatic, just like how readily he agrees to an order that wasn't technically an order, but might as well have been. It's easy to listen to her. She makes herself easy to listen to.]

[He heads back in.]

August Aftermath: Make Me Okay

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