lifeaftr | January Undercurrent: Growing Pains

January Undercurrent: Growing Pains

JANUARY UNDERCURRENT

Who: Everyone!
What: Hey bud, how's it growing?
When: January 3rd to January 20th
Where: Everywhere!
Warnings: This event has a potential for body horror and character death; please mark anything as it comes up!

A Notion Growing Inside Me

Those of you who weren't with us the last time Umui entered the archipelago didn't have to contend with the lethal illness known as the Overgrowth personally, but anyone who remembers it probably doesn't remember it fondly. Fortunately, this isn't quite the same strain of the illness that you had to contend with the last time. It's not unrelentingly and uncompromisingly fatal, for one! That's always nice.

For those that need a primer on the Overgrowth, it is best described as a sickness that overcomes you with floral growth both inside and outside your body that can only be cured by expressions of emotional honesty. Expressions of truths, affections, and admissions of things that you have hidden from yourselves or from others were critical in dispensing of the illness. These could be as simple as admissions of past sins or the revealing of secrets, or as grandiose and overt as confessions of guilt or love. That general idea will remain more or less the key means of curing this strain as well, though the stakes fortunately aren't as high this go around! Which is to say, if you fail to have any grand emotional epiphanies by the time this event ends, you aren't doomed to suffer a character death; symptoms will simply dissipate come January 20th.

So what's this sickness going to be like in this particular instance, then? We're so glad you asked!

You can go the standard route, of course. Adventurers' first brush with the illness saw the following afflicted upon them:

[ ♆ ] Stage One: Germination. Initial symptoms involve fever, coughing fits, numbness to nerves and extremities, and general joint stiffness. Difficulty breathing or performing other basic functions will often occur. Fatigue, difficulty sleeping, and intense weakness or dizzy spells are also liable to occur as the flowers begin to harvest nutrients from the body. This will also generate extreme thirst and periods of intense nausea. Tremors and the sensation of something "itching" from inside are also common. The end of Stage One is usually marked by the act of vomiting or coughing up flower petals or spores, along with a not-insignificant amount of blood.

[ ♆ ] Stage Two: Budding. The floral growths spread more completely inside the body, and begin to grow on the skin or exterior. Difficulty performing basic functions will increase as, for example, airways become obstructed and flowers grow around joints and pinch them still. The site of affliction also yields rashes, blisters, and blood sores as the flowers sprout from the skin. The rate of vomiting or coughing up floral growths will increase dramatically. Flowers often bloom quickly, and very painfully. Numbness in affected areas will increase, oftentimes rendering parts of the body completely inert - a pair of legs claimed completely by blooms, for example, will no longer work.

This was followed by Stage Three: Bloom, which resulted in character death. However, this strain will not advance to this style of Stage Three. All symptoms will disperse by the time Umui resurfaces.

This strain is also rather more erratic, which can make emotional repression more of an inconvenience than a horrifying circumstance. For those who would rather not play around with intense sickness (or who have already endured this once before), you have the option to go that route if you like! With this variant of the Overgrowth, one can become, for example, so embarrassed that they hiccup up a flower. A vicious denial of their feelings may cause them to spontaneously erupt into a rash of dandelion puffballs, seemingly immediately. You might end up walking around with a bouquet for an arm for a few hours. Perhaps mortifying, but certainly not fatal! Isn't that nice?

Unless, of course, you want it to be...

I Can't Fight It Much Longer

Now, while the Bloom Stage isn't present in this strain, it has mutated its progression into a rather nasty end stage. Those of you who succumb a little too readily to this illness, who don't fight off the emotional repression quickly, who don't admit those difficult truths to yourself or confess to whatever you're bottling up, you'll be faced with a potentially horrifying transformation. Potentially, because it is your choice whether or not you see fit to commit your character to that fate - as stated above, this option might simply skip over your character entirely, and the worst they'll have to deal with are cartoonishly over-the-top effects that disperse in due time.

But maybe not all of you will be so lucky. Some of you might discover for yourselves how this particular variant of the Overgrowth has mutated.

We call this mutation Stage Three: Outbreak.

In this final Stage, those beautiful blooms wither and harden into a fungus-like carapace as the illness grows into the victim's brain and shuts down virtually all higher functions. This can sometimes render them almost wholly recognizable, but not always - oftentimes, it's very obvious who this person once was. The victim is reduced to a carrier of the virus, which causes them to act the way you'd expect most viruses to act: becoming intent on spreading. Advanced brain functions such as speech, rational thought, and so on tend to shut off and become wholly inaccessible.

Now that the victim's body is no longer fighting the Overgrowth, the illness lends them increased speed, strength, and durability, making them dangerous foes indeed. They will usually seek to infect others by whatever means necessary - usually via biting or exuding breathable spores - but in some cases, they will simply reduce to base instincts, and just outright attempt to attack and kill whoever is closest.

Unfortunately, at this point, there is no hope of a cure; it's hard to make someone be emotionally honest when they're capable of little more than blunt, animal instinct. At this point, you can either wait for the Stage Three symptoms to disperse come Umui's return, or take manners into your own hands. You can probably guess what that might entail.

If you decide to put your Overgrown friends out of their misery, this will count as a character death. If it comes to that, be sure to let us know on the Deaths page! Death penalties, however, will not be reduced for this event.

Try to Get Through It

Of course, there's a lot going on in the background as well. You're free to use this log as a catch-all for the duration of January's Undercurrent Event, as well as any of the other minor events listed on our Monthly Rundown post. And, of course, you are always free to create your own individual logs and posts as needed.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them over on the Questions header on our Rundown post!

January Timeline

[ ♆ ] January 1st: "This Sucks" begins and lasts until January 10th
[ ♆ ] January 3rd: "Growing Pains" begins and lasts until January 20th
[ ♆ ] January 11th: "No Water is Safe" begins and lasts until January 19th
[ ♆ ] January 20th: Umui returns to the archipelago
[ ♆ ] January 21st: "Impawsible Geometries" begins and lasts until January 31st

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He should've seen this coming. 'Course it was gonna happen. Happened the first time, and it's happening now. He starts seeing things again, and usually it's people he knows. And Ren...well, she's gone. Gone off to wherever she was going to end up. He doesn't know. He can't remember.]

[Tim's fetched up against the wall of the shack, cracks his eyes open, and almost laughs. It's a strange, hitching sound in the back of his throat. Not the least bit surprised.]

There. What'd I say? Gonna be the death of me.

[It's painful to watch him react like this. It always is. The weird, strangled noise that comes out of his mouth and words that make it seem like he's not really here.

She needs to get him back inside, somewhere safe, before she gets too exhausted and numb to help. It's only a matter of time before that happens. Those buttercups are tightening around her arm already.]

I won't hurt you. I'm not scary.

[Reaching for his arm is out of the question. She can't grab or pull him to the shack, so she inches her fingers forward to tap at the back of his hand instead.]

It's okay. You'll be okay this time.

[Feels real. But sometimes things do, when you're on the edge like this. Tim makes a faint, wet sound in the back of his throat, almost like a cough. Almost, though not quite. He doesn't have the energy for that just now.]

Nah, 's...you're fine. Just wish you were real.

[His eyes close.]

Wish any of you kids were real.

[There's nothing she can do about the loss of the kids. His family isn't around, as far as she knows, and searching for them seems like it would cause more hurt. They'll come back-they promised. Especially for Tim, who even now wishes they were real.

She stops her incessant tapping, slowly wrapping her fingers around his hand instead. She'll let him pull away, if he wants. He doesn't usually like to do this but-

She's hoping he might feel it. That she's real because this disease plays tricks on the mind and she can't watch him succumb to it again.]

I found my way back. That's what happened.

[In some roundabout way that she can't recall, she's sure that's what occurred.]

You should go inside. I'll help you.

[God, she feels so real. Anything can, if you're desperate enough. His fingers have already gone numb in places. That's probably what this is, right? Some phantom feeling still bleeding in from the parts of him that still have sensation. Doesn't make any sense that it'd be anything else. Doesn't make any sense, because he can't bring himself to hope that something so stupidly impossible would happen? That shit doesn't happen. Not to him.]

[He only ever loses people. He doesn't get them back. That's not how it works.]

I think I'm better off as fertilizer, kiddo.

[The blasé way he says it is yet another indication that he's uncertain about the reality of this encounter. He probably wouldn't be so glib about the prospect of his own death otherwise.]

Always was better off dead.

[He doesn't pull away-that's a relief. A short lived one, when those words fall out of his mouth. It's the late stages of the disease, by the looks of it. She doesn't know how long this illness has ravaged the island, but it's hard-so hard-to listen to his words. It's the truth as he sees it, maybe, in a morbid sense. One she can't wrap her head around and-

Her grip tightens around his hand, loosening and tightening in tandem with her heart's rapid beat.

As fertilizer, he says-

Like the seconds they spent together were meaningless, like her disappearance means those experiences are gone, like it didn't matter-like he doesn't matter to her.]

You're not-that's not how it is. That's not how it's supposed to be. Don't say that mean stuff. Let's-we can go inside. I'm still not very strong, but I can help you do that.

I can be as mean to me as I want. You know that.

[Does she? Well, she's not real. Doesn't matter. He shouldn't be talking to his hallucinations. That's never a good plan, because someone might just happen by in the middle of the conversation. It's really just delaying things. Wasting his strength on talking to people that don't exist. That aren't here.]

I don't wanna bleed on the floors. Or the bed. It's...

[The last thing that Chara and Frisk did for him.]

I'm trying to keep it clean. They'd want that.

[There are some things that will never change and this is one of them. The cynical attitude Tim has towards himself, even when they reach this point. Even when it's between his feelings and survival and-

Maybe this is the truth anyway. She doesn't know if he sees her as real-it doesn't sound like it. He usually watches it around her-at least a bit more than this.

But he doesn't want to bleed in the house. His home. Their home. Because they'll come back and she gets it. She really does, but that brings them back to square one and the only thing she can think to do is-

Bring a hand up to his hair, slowly and carefully, to smooth it down. Maybe he'll realize she's real then, but even if he doesn't-]

You should talk. You should say all that stuff in your heart and then you won't bleed at all.

Say 'em to nobody?

[Would that even work? It's all sealed up in his chest, locked down like a fucking vault. Everything he's ever done. Everything he's ever been a part of. Every person he's ever hurt, just by existing. He doesn't even have to do anything.]

[It's been years, and none of it's come back to haunt him yet, except in the strictly mnemonic sense. It hasn't showed up in the corner of his eyes. It hasn't dogged his footsteps. But he thinks that It probably doesn't have to. He saw It on Monsun, once - and real or not, that was enough.]

[His eyes flutter half-open. Someone's stroking his hair. It feels kind of nice, actually. He's...not sure why it feels so real.]

Sorry, kid. Like this place too much to fuck it up with nightmares.

[There's desperation in her voice, as she reaches up to pinch the hand stroking his hair. It's getting numb from something crawling through her skin, and she doesn't want to stop. It helped her once. He did this when she awful and her heart ached. It was nice and-

It might help. It could work. It might be something she can do here.]

You can't feel my heart? At all?

[It doesn't matter then, if he thinks she isn't real. She hasn't been for who knows how long and while she might be back-

It doesn't make up for the wasted time. For leaving to begin with, even if she never meant to.]

I don't want you to die, so it's okay if you think I'm not real. You can say things and this stuff will stop hurting you.

I don't feel anybody's heart. Not usually. The kids were a...there were an exception. Always were to most things.

[And the first time, it was accidental. Brutal. And then he just kept making it worst, kept digging things deeper, kept digging himself deeper, like he could rip through the earth straight through to hell. End up rock bottom and still bury himself further down.]

[Straight through to hell. Ha.]

Be a lot better for everyone if I could. Just...have it all stop.

[It's difficult to figure out if he's obliging her request by talking or if he's trying to avoid it all together.

And it won't be better for the people who remain. The ones who rely on Denny, the people who rely on him-maybe she relies on him a bit too much because the thought of him vanishing too-

The thought of him being gone, disappearing like the elves, like Guzma-

She can't think about it for long.]

It wouldn't be. If you weren't here-if you were gone too.

I would miss you a lot. My heart would heart.

[But she's just a ghost to him and in the grand scheme of things, her words don't mean much. But she has to say it because that loss has become pervasive and constant and she can't turn her head without another person leaving and-]

It's not better.

I miss you too.

[Maybe she's an element of his self-preservation. Not that he has a thing like that, but...who knows. Maybe she is. Fuck. He can't tell anymore.]

Too many things I've done. Hurt people just by being here. I'm - [His throat convulses. He starts to cough, rolls onto his side to spit a wad of petals and clotted blood into the dirt. His fingers curl into the earth and grass, and he coils up on the spot a little.]

- a disease.

[He's a cure. That's the first retort she desperately wants to make, as he pulls free of her grip to retch on the ground. Blood, petals-

It's the same as before.

And it's nervewracking, to touch him like this. She never knows how's he going to take it, but right now-

He doesn't think she's real anyway and convincing him otherwise is an issue she doesn't want to push. Not when he's in this state.

She presses her hand against his back though, patting it gently. There there.]

You're not. You're not like that at all. To me-you make me feel better. That's like 'medicine'-that's what you are.

[A choking, faint sound peels out from his throat - almost like a laugh, until it becomes apparent that it isn't anything of the sort. It's more akin to a sob, hitching and garbled.]

Can't lie to me. Or - guess y'can. 'M a liar.

Always have been.

[Even to himself, it seems. He keeps trying to convince himself that there's someone left, anyone, that still gives a damn. And he knows that there shouldn't be. He made himself important by virtue of where he placed himself, what he did - not for who he is. What he is.]

[And it shouldn't be for that, anyway. Not for him.]

[It hasn't been a lie-their time together, the ways he's tried to make her happy, the fact he always tries, even as he denies doing anything of the sort over and over again.

It sounds like he's crying and she wants to pull some blankets over his body to tuck him in, to make it feel like a hug. Maybe wrap her arms around him too because there's a deep sort of hurt fueling him and-

She fiddles with her fingers, trying to keep that numbing sensation at bay for a few more minutes.]

We should go somewhere-we can go back to camp. It's only-

It's just me and Uncle Kravitz now. It's very quiet. You can lay there and I'll take care of you. It's okay.

I don't think Kravitz wants to deal with me like this.

[He's fucked with Kravitz enough for the time being, he's pretty sure. They can only barely have civil discussions these days. He's pretty sure that's his fault.]

'Sides. Figure the flowers could use a little help. 'S what they wanted - me to take care of 'em.

[They. Chara.]

[Someone has to take care of these flowers.]

[Kravitz wouldn't mind-she knows that. He's by far one of the kindest people one the island and he respects death enough to ensure Tim's comfort while she tries to cure him.

While she makes every effort to cure him.

But she's not strong enough to move someone against their will nor does she want to. He seems adamant about remaining here, at his house, and she-

Gets it.]

You can't take care of them if you don't get better.

Make great fertilizer, though, right?

[Shouldn't be making shitty jokes like this. But morbid humor is really the only kind he's got to his name. He wets his lips, taste sap and copper. That's enough to set off his gag reflex all over again, and he has to curl over on his side to retch sluices of blood and petals into the dirt.]

What're you doing here, kid? You went home. Or...somewhere.

No.

[Jokes fly over her head at the best of times and the morbid way he refers to himself as fertilizer over and over is-

Painful. She doesn't know any magic words to make him see how wrong that is. All she has are her feelings and knowing that she's going to lose him, that Chara might lose their family before they return, that there's always a chance Tim might not come back from death and all she wants is for him to understand-

She wants to cry. Tries hard to stop the tears from welling her eyes because it won't help. It's not going to save him or change anything. She just has to keep trying.]

This is home. I didn't-I wasn't anywhere and then I came back here and everyone was-

[Gone. Sick. Dying.]

Don't leave too.

[Is he even talking to a hallucination?]

[Some part of him twinges vaguely at the possibility that he isn't, that she's really here, and it twitches like a poked nerve. But so much of him is raw and scraped bare at this point - he can barely muster the ability to respond, let alone process what that might mean.]

Wasn't anywhere...

[He swallows, even though it hurts.]

Sounds nice.

[Nice isn't how she would describe the experience in any sense of the word. Losing that time and not knowing what transpired, what happened, missing out on her last opportunities to see people-

There was nothing nice about it.

She hates it. The fact it happened and there's nothing she can do to stop it from occurring again.]

I think it was very lonely. It feels that way now.

[She can only hope her lost family and friends aren't trapped in that same, bizarre void.]

I don't want you to feel that way.

'M always that way.

[Now more than ever. Kids're gone. All he's got left is the expectation that he keep things as they left them. Maybe forever. Maybe this is his purgatory - to always gain and then lose people. To get close but always see it snatched away.]

[Or maybe not. Maybe that's just him. His own inability to allow himself to connect. Not that he should. No. He shouldn't.]

[Maybe this is for the best. This might be the best way to get him to talk and to keep the flowers from spreading over him. Despite his wishes, she can't let him become fertilizer. It hurts too much to think about.

And hearing he's lonely-

Reminds her of something Murasaki-chan once said to her, so long ago. Back when he gave her ESP Kitty.]

It's okay to feel lonely. That kind of thing-it's very hard to not feel that way.

[But she wishes he didn't. Wishes she could find a way to stop it, no matter how impossible it is.]

Do you want to hold hands?

I'm always alone.

[Why am I the only one that's still here? I don't wanna be by myself again.]

[But that's how it is, with him. That's how it was at home. That's how it is here, now. There's no escaping from it. He's accepted it, even though he'd thought - he'd let himself believe for a moment that he could. He'd befriended impossible children, children who had broken the rules of pretty much everything.]

[But that wasn't enough.]

[He can't even be upset about it. They're better off without him. Most people are. If they're lucky, they ended up somewhere...better than this.]

[He licks the blood from the corner of his mouth, spits.]

Sure. Let's hold hands with a hallucination. You're pretty much the nicest one I've ever had. Thanks for that.

January Undercurrent: Growing Pains

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cw: blasé suicide ideation

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cw: emetophobia, blood

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cw: emetophobia, blood

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cw: suicide ideation

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