Returning Island: Umui

[lifeaftr_mods]

RETURNING ISLAND: UMUI

Who: Everyone!
What: Umui returns to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: January 20th, and onward
Where: It'd almost be beautiful, if you didn't know it could kill you
Warnings: Please mark if anything comes up!

I Found a Plot of Weeds Instead
Perhaps some of you remember the island of Umui...its mysteries, its dangers, its eerie quiet. Almost everything here was both overgrown and Overgrown - remnants of an old civilization were buried beneath layers of the flowers that eventually killed them. And travelers got to unpack and hunt down whatever clues they could find about just what happened to the people out here, until the answer became all too obvious.

When Umui resurfaces on January 20th, you might be startled to discover that everything has become even more overgrown than before. No, really - almost every landmark and building has been rendered more or less totally unrecognizable. It looks very much as though centuries of growth has now overcome this entire area, as though you've left it like this for a period of millennia and not merely a period of months. The buildings have been utterly buried beneath grasses and flowers, and if there were any of those automatons left lying about, they're probably buried pretty deep under the ground too. It's not recommended that you go digging too deep. You probably don't want to awaken any old strains of the Overgrowth, right? You already dealt with that earlier in the month! And that's the good news in all this. As long as you don't go digging too deeply into the island, you won't have any fear of encountering the Overgrowth again.

Well, unless you're after something or someone in particular. Some of you might remember robotic entity that several of you worked together to save. They're probably underneath all this stuff somewhere, right? Still deactivated, but...maybe there's something you can do to save them...?

If anyone has questions about what you might find if you poking around Umui's landscape, you're free to ask them here! It's worth noting, however, that except for the flora, this place is almost completely devoid of other life. Nothing sentient lives here...anymore.

Buried Deep Underneath the Tree
That doesn't mean Umui is bereft of any of quirks entirely, however. While you might recognize some of the flowers poking up from the humps of moss and greenery, a certain type of bloom is definitely new...and definitely not one of your standard types of flowers, either. If anyone thinks to ask one of the gods about these flowers, they will receive an assurance that they are not innately dangerous - but they are innately linked to the dream island of Mu. They glow with a strange, vaguely ethereal light, and if you get too close, they'll waft some thick spores of pollen in your direction.

These spores have all sorts of ways of latching their effects into you. Whether they get breezed into your mechanical parts, inhaled, ingested, if they land in your eyes, whatever the case - pretty soon, they're going to start working their magic. And once they do, you'll soon find yourself feeling inexplicably and incredibly tired. Inexorably, you'll find yourself settling down for a nap, regardless of whether you're not one for sleeping, or even if you're one who requires it. The moment you close your eyes, you'll find yourself entering a dream state on Mu, and one that is linked with all other dreaming entities. This means that it's highly possible that your dreams will be bleeding into other people's, or that you may end up wandering into another's dreams. It's very probable, in fact.

The dream-state you enter may vary in depth. You might end up completely beholden to Mu's wishes, or you might find yourself in a vaguely lucid, almost "sleepwalking" state, where in the following effects are "projections" visible to the waking world. Most likely, you'll all be bumping up against one another's heads within Mu's vast and comfortable shores. Whichever of these it is, once you're caught within Mu's grasp, you'll find that it's a trove of memories that await you - your memories. You may find yourself re-enacting them or simply watching from afar...but the same may be said for others who might stumble upon your mind. Perhaps they find themselves in place of another character, or watching invisibly from the sidelines. Either way, Mu tries to make each instance as close to the real thing as possible. When it has completed, it may either restart itself, or simply fade entirely.

Should you be affected by Umui's pollen, any one or more of the following will occur:

[ ♆ ] True Bliss: Mu recreates a memory or a time in which you were truly happy. This may be as simple or as grandiose as you may like, but it had to have really happened.

[ ♆ ] True Judgment: Mu recreates a memory or a time in which you felt exceptionally guilty. And no matter what you do, you'll find that it is impossible to change. Try as you might, you can only ever witness the same end result that has stricken you with so much guilt. And the same can be said for whoever might have gotten caught in this instance, and is watching it happen...

[ ♆ ] True Peace: Mu recreates a memory or a time in which you felt the most at peace, whether with some aspect of yourself or the circumstances around you. Perhaps this sense of peace bleeds into your own consciousness as you witness or act it, or perhaps it only serves to unsettle you...or maybe it affects those who go wandering into your dreams.

[ ♆ ] True Balance: Mu selects a memory or a time in your life...and warps it so that it is experienced in the opposite manner that it was initially. For example: that happy memory of you rescuing a bunch of kittens from a burning building? When you experience it this time, it will be in a relentlessly negative light - you absolute monster, traumatizing those kittens by carrying them through the fire like that! You should have been more careful! What if the fire was your fault all along? That horrible memory in which you slaughtered a bunch of innocent people? Well, it was all for the best, wasn't it? It was good that you did this. You have nothing to be sorry for. There's a bright side to everything - even this.

[ ♆ ] True Fate: Mu creates what it understands to be your final destiny, whether it be the place where our story ends, or the circumstances under which you perish. Perhaps this is something that is known to you, or to others. And perhaps it isn't.

You may pay witness to any one or more of these dream-states at a time. Perhaps you visit the island five times and receive the same "effect" each time, or perhaps you visit only once but find yourself looping through all five "effects" in the same space. The memories may vary, as well; for example, you might experience the "True Bliss" effect three times, and experience three separate happy memories each time. The choice of what your character experiences is up to you! While there are no inherent risks to this dream-state, it should be worth noting that your body will not be immune to entropy should you stay in it too long. Your body may suffer from hunger or thirst, or require recharging at a mana pool. For the most part, however, the only things you have to fear are the, uh, trauma that this might inflict. Or the trauma of other people seeing some of your most private memories.

Where My Friends Plot to Bury Me
Of course, there's a lot going on in the background as well. Characters are not required to go to Umui; you're free to explore any other minor events listed on our Monthly Rundown post. You are also always free to create your own individual logs and posts as needed!

Also remember that if you died this month, to fill out the corresponding form over on our Deaths page!

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

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

ren | ota

[catpiper]

True Bliss

[Stepping foot on Umui is the last thing she wanted to do. She got more than her fill of the island during their initial arrival last year and it's silly to even think about wandering there.

But she has a reason. A couple of them. A few of them and she finds part of it-

Within moments of falling asleep.

A fire's suddenly burning in front of her and anyone who recognizes the island's Camp Base be able to distinguish the odd assortment of tents and equipment that belong there. There are voices everywhere, even if it's impossible distinguish the words coming out of their mouths. It all blends together around this fire and everyone seems-

Pretty happy.

Taako, Lup, Magnus and Kravitz are here, fully on their bullshit, and this simple scene is just that. A dinner that happened far too many times to count and she's sitting there just listening, smile wide on her face as they scoop some kinda soup into the bowl in her hands. A bowl she can't seem to sit still with, as she scoots over from person to person to sit by them for one, two, three seconds before moving around the circle, joining in with her own brand of nonsense. She leans against people, hides under blankets draped around their body or just shoves herself under their arms so she can stay close, rapidly talking about all the while about whatever shenanigans she got into that day and-

She doesn't mind staying here. At least for awhile.]

True Judgement cw: claustrophobia, suicidal ideation

[It's loud.

It's really loud and she can't see anything. Can barely hear any sound over the whirring of the machine and some kind of disturbance around her. She could move her hands a little, if she wanted, but there's no point. She knows from experience that she'll only hit some glass and-

She came here because Shin said to-because she always listens to him and she knows that Seto is in this building too, outside these doors, somewhere nearby-She knows, because she felt his heart and whispered help me in the camera recording her every move and-

She knows it was wrong. That this is wrong. That she was wrong to step foot in this place, knowing what's to come. What Shin's plan was and how all she had to do was hide to stop it. All she had to do was not come here to stop.

All she had to do was maybe die to stop it.

But she was afraid-always afraid of him. Disobedience and going against the project weren't an option, but-

As her sight leaves, she knows the machine activated. Knows she messed up by letting that fear control her and relying on this small boy to save her, when she could just-

She knows what's going to happen and how her failed body necessary for this project and she still showed up here.

She still got in and-

The large glass pod she's in lowers out of an even larger machine opens up and she can't see anything-her eyes are open and she can feel her hand raise to meet the air now that the panel's off and-

It's only temporary. She knows that. Can hear someone breathing nearby and understands it can't be Shin-that it might be that boy, but-

The dream abruptly starts over and she's stuck in a pod again.]

True Fate cw: death

[The ground under her body is soft and she doesn't remember coming here. There was building-a place she had taken shelter in after leaving Seto, once she knew-

Once she knew it was going to end like this. When she realized how she had to space out her medicine to survive and how it became harder and harder to wake up in time for the next pill.

She clutches the ground-some kind of grass or moss. Maybe she ended up in the woods that had been nearby. She's pretty sure the ghosts aren't here and-

She's thirsty. Hungry. Too exhausted to even open her eyes, though she tries. Tries to get her bearings and push herself up to find something to eat or to fill her stomach with whatever dirty water is nearby and-

It's pointless to even look for it. It won't matter-not when it takes all her willpower to get her eyes to flutter open.

Get them open to see the beautiful, round moon in the sky. The twinkling stars. The bright, sparkling lights she wants to keep looking at forever and ever and maybe-

This is the kindest thing her world can offer. A peaceful ending after all is said and done and-

Seto won't find her here, she's sure. She thinks. I's really hard to think suddenly, as that ever present exhaustion creeps up on her again and she knows it's might be the last time she ever opens her eyes.

Knows it definitely is and-

The true Ren doesn't look surprised at all, as she watches this scene unfold. Just stares at her lifeless corpse, looking the same age as she is now and-

Hopes this dream ends really soon.]

true fate :3c

[deathfindsaway]

[He doesn't quite remember falling asleep, but Kravitz has gotten much better at identifying Mu's trickery over the years. The visions he's seen are just that- visions- and as long as he doesn't fall fully into it, he won't be consumed. But last time he could move like this, find the crevices in dreams, people needed saving from them. It's more than enough incentive to get him to find seams between his mind and others, to find his way through twists and turns to find another resident of the island.

And of course, he finds one. Or well, two. One, at first, when he just sees her body on the ground and begins to run, and then a second as the standing Ren becomes apparent. He's not sure if she can see him coming in, a bit behind her but largely off to her left, but he thinks it best not to scare her if he can. Might as well make it like he isn't sneaking up or anything.]

... Ren. That-- you needn't keep watching this.

true judgment

[postictal]

[He doesn't know whose dream this is, at first - just that he's in a dream, given how many times he's ended up wandering in some abstract landscape. A good chunk of the time, he just assumes most things aren't real. This isn't real. He doesn't recognize any of it.]

[But then he recognizes her. A machine he doesn't know, and she's being kept in some sort of container - but it's transparent, and he can see her.]

[He's out of place. An interloper on this dreamscape that isn't his. But whatever's happening, it doesn't look good, so he does what he's gotten very, very good at over the years, what Chara had told him themself he was just spectacular at.]

[He starts fucking things up.]

Ren?

[Maybe he can break it...break the machine. Maybe that can get her out of that pod, whatever the hell it is. He doesn't wanna just shatter it, not with her still inside.]

true bliss

[demonpuppy]

[Chip never really had much occasion to linger near here for long, in the waking world. They've wandered nearby, but they aren't the type to go wandering into someone else's house even if the door is left wide open. And even now they linger at the edges, watching the friendly atmosphere rather than invite themself into where they won't be wanted.]

[But even still the warmth of the scene brings a smile to their face, and when Ren's eyes happen to lock with Chip's own in a chance glance, they wave shyly and start to step away. This is her place, not theirs.]

true bliss

[onegreeneye]

[There's something about these places - these islands, the peninsula Ginko found himself on before. They seem to throw one danger after another at those brought there, put them in positions they could never expect to have to contend with, but...

Ginko keeps his distance as the memory unfolds in front of him. He knows she probably shouldn't stay here for too long; nothing good can come of getting stuck in a dream.

But it doesn't feel like it's his to intrude on, not so soon.

true fate

[vagabone]

[The true Ren is not the only one watching. For once, he looks exactly like the ghost he is, softly glowing gold and transparent. He kneels next to her, unaware a different Ren is not far away, and strokes her hair gently. Or... attempts to. His ghostly hand passes right through, prompting him to sigh.]

Oh, Renita...

[It doesn't matter that this is most likely a dream. Dreams are never just dreams, when it's Mu. He knows better than to dismiss it.

Same old story. Different setting, different characters. He's know so many ageless children, living on borrowed time. The aching sorrow in his bones is too, too familiar. He knows this scene by heart, he wishes he didn't. No children should have to face death, the Final sort or the regular sort, and yet he's never been able to change a thing.

And this isn't even the first time the island has made her sick. He leans closer, a sad smile on his face.]

Ren, can you hear me?

Ardyn Lucis Caelum | ota

[scourgingstars]

[a; true bliss]

[The gradually crumbling stone of the ruins was beginning to look overgrown not unlike Umui itself; however long ago they had been built, the simple march of time had begun to reclaim them. A man with dark hair scanned over the stone steps with dark blue eyes as if evaluating whether they would break before leading a golden-haired woman along them--towards the larger structure itself. The pair of them were dressed simply, in clothes that could charitably be called 'archaic'; her with a bright red traveling cloak, and his a little more worn and off-white.]

[This place is incredible, she said in a light tone, colored by fascination and some excitement. How old do you think these ruins are?]

[I haven't the slightest. When he spoke, it was clear who he was; Ardyn's voice wasn't one easily mistaken for anyone else's. Neither who made them, nor when nor why. His own words were even and straightforward, not for a lack of interest but more that he simply was a straightforward person.]

[With the light conversation hanging in the air, the two stepped into the mausoleum--and the Ardyn of the present, a man in black with cold yellow eyes and blighted-violet hair moved to follow.]

[b; true fate]

[Around them spread a massive city beneath the dark of night--an unnatural darkness, the sky a sickly sort of black with no trace of moon or stars. The only light came from the city itself; dead and empty, the lights seeming almost a mere formality more than anything else.]

[Two men stood in the street, facing each other in a ruined capital in an empty world. The natural conclusion, of course: the chosen king, savior to the star--and the fallen daemon, prisoner of fate. Of the pair of them, it was Ardyn and not the black-haired youth who spoke first:]

[The once helpless and hapless prince. Is he now ready to claim his crown? Full of mocking sarcasm, he walked as though he hadn't a care in the world, and as he turned did a scarlet blade appear in his hand.]

[Don't let us down.]

[The swords clashed, and as the two knocked each other away something else could be heard. From beside any observer Ardyn spoke again, a second one watching the proceedings in some disinterest. This one was more than likely the 'real' one, differentiated only by the fact that he wore a simple black hat.]

You may want to step back a bit.

[No sooner did he say that did some debris collapse in a cloud of dust, the two facing off once more.]

['Let the games begin.'
'No. Now they end.']

[Blades of scarlet and silver reappeared in a flash, and the night was lit in chaotic blasts of magic, light, and metal as the first and last kings of Lucis clashed.]

[c; wildcard]

[catch him around umui in general if you like, i'm easy]

a; dabs

[philoxenia]

[ How she ended up here, she's not sure.

To be fair, Mira doesn't realize she's stumbled into someone's memoryscape. She knows only that it's a quiet, peaceful scene, and she's naturally curious. A little apprehensive, but curious more than anything. She's focused on not falling as she makes her way through the ruins when-- ]

Oh-- I'm sorry.

[ The two move past with no indication they've heard her, and she's left blinking as she watches them go. And the third--she doesn't notice him, yet, but aside from the bracer on her left arm... She should look terribly familiar, Ardyn. ]

[b; true fate]

[shatteredlenses]

Is this how Bahamut wills it to end?

[The realistic recreation of this fated meeting is wasted on Ignis for the most part. He can hear the battle echoing in the empty, ruined city, but he cannot see the way the two clash amongst the rubble. He doesn't have the same hard won experience as the version of himself that walked through these streets only a short time before either, so he does the only thing he can--the thing he's done so often in the years since he came to the island--he follows Ardyn's voice. His Ardyn's voice.]

I suppose, if I am fair, it is poetic, but poetry means little to a handful of survivors stranded on a ruined planet.

a.

[agathokakological]

[Crowley himself wouldn't have recognized either of them, and certainly not as dream images until they're moving through him like a ghost. As the true Ardyn follows, Crowley barely moves, sure that this version of him will pass through as well, and he waves a hand out in front of him almost comically.]

You there-- spooky guy. Can you see me?

Crowley | OTA

[agathokakological]

i.

[A new island meant new dangers, and Crowley, ever testing the limits of the powers this realm allowed him to keep, has decided that on the off-chance there is something rather dangerous on this new island, he wanted to be equipped with the fangs to face it.

Literally.

Crowley wasn't really that fond of being a serpent, all low and crawling at your feet and such. It seemed beneath him, these days, but precautions were precautions, and if nothing else, maybe it would stir up a bit of trouble fun for a while. Let there be a legend of a giant snake keeping watch of Umui... it's been a while since Crowley felt like anyone feared him, anyway.

Slithering through the wasteland, he was surprised to not encounter any other life. When hearing a tree branch crack behind him, he coils around and hisses defensively. A voice, like an itching echo of whispers that one more feels than hears, follows the hiss.]

What do you want??


ii.

[Crowley didn't know what it was, just that Aziraphale kept feeding it, so it kept coming around. It was dog-shaped, except that it had seven limbs (Of course it did, an even number would have been too much to ask), six eyes (One of which was on the back of his head, meaning there was absolutely no angle Crowley could stand at where this thing wasn't staring straight at him), and it's tongue was almost constantly hanging out of it's mouth just slightly, as if it didn't quite fit. Crowley hated it.

It couldn't even walk right, wobbling around his garden, jerking and shaking in it's movements. It was harmless, but it was annoying, and it shit everywhere. Crowley would have made sure to scare it off for good, except surprisingly it's loads of excrement seemed to make his plants grow, something he'd been unable to achieve with his normal methods.]

Listen here, fertilizer. Stay out of my sight and we won't have any problems today, hear me?



iii.

[Wildcard option; feel free to catch Crowley outside of his place on the islets, hanging around Denny, or ping me on plurk dukevendetta and pitch me something else entirely!]

ii

[forwearemany]

(Isle 2, as far as Rannoch was concerned, was his domain. And Legion, as it so happened, was his favorite toy.

And right now, he was having a pretty damn good day, following his favorite toy around his domain, getting plenty of pets and lots of entertainment.

Legion, on the other hand, was feeling a bit melancholy, a bit unwilling to stay in the house that was so empty, while simultaneously a bit unsure of where else to go. Rannoch at least, was a comfort as they wandered. They passed by the house of their neighbor Aziraphale, and his housemate...

At which point, Rannoch jumped. Not the sort of graceful leap a cat might make when trying to get somewhere or trying to attack something, but a straight up jump into the air, back arched and tail out like a startled housecat.

This, in turn, sent Legion backing up, headflaps flaring. They let out an alarmed burst of Geth chatter as the Tigerlily suddenly turned and leapt at Legion, clinging and attempting to climb up their body like they were some kind of tree. The robot, in turn, flailed and staggered but did not go down, perhaps surprising given that they were now supporting the weight of a wholeass tiger.

And what was the cause of this sudden spectacle? A certain very bizarre but very harmless little wobbledog, apparently.)

i.

[salutosinedelectat]

[ New islands, new dangers. After what had happened just about a week ago, the angel wasn't really into walking around and potentially getting sick again. Not after almost...

But new islands meant new areas. Possibly new gods, considering that each of them seemed to have one of those reigning over them. Maybe more resources. He did consider not going, this time, but curiosity got the best of him - it's best to know what they're dealing with, anyway, anda peek wouldn't hurt, he thought. Should he encounter anything strange, he could just turn around and go through the mana pool again.

Well, as soon as he steps foot on that island, he almost does just that. Not that he sees anything particularly strange or worrisome, but the feeling he gets - there's just something...wrong here. This both discourages him and feeds into his curiosity, so, map in hand (politely borrowed from the library), he moves along the wasteland.

Not expecting Crowley to be in such a form, for a second he thinks he's found an aggressive animal or monster once more, freezing up as the serpent rises and bears its fangs at him. But then, that voice. So he blinks, before pointedly asking: ]

What on Earth are you doing?

i

[yourattention]

A burger and friends who mind their own biz.

[In the grand scheme of things, like the really really grand scheme of the bullshit that Connor's life has become, a giant talking snake ranks maybe fifteenth in the list of "things he doesn't want to deal with but this is happening now." He's looking for something, maybe, but he's not sure what the hell it is or where it is because this is bad. Something is wrong with Umui.]

Am I hallucinating? This is a new one.

i

[mockiri]

[Okay, so- she's terrified, naturally. That's a giant snake. His goal is 100% accomplished with this tiny bird child who inconveniently failed her stealth check stepped on the wrong twig while trying to sneak past. Helplessly she drops as he turns on her, scrambling backwards, but with very few options she does the best that she can to make herself seem not worth the trouble: she draws her dagger, practically a toothpick in comparison, and she hisses back exactly the way he'd done.

See how you like it...!]

tim wright | ota | i'll match your formatting

[postictal]

i. true bliss ; goodbye to all the plans that we made

Who knows why he set foot back here? Maybe it was out of spite. Maybe it was out of the hopes that this time, the Overgrowth really will kill him.

In either case, that's not what happens. What happens instead is that Tim gets a whiff of some of that pollen and promptly passes out. It's not the worst-case scenario. He sorely needed the sleep anyway, is the thing. This is better.

It's better, too, because this would have to be the happiest that he can ever remember being. Anyone who wanders into his dream will find themselves confronted by a shadowy memory. There, in a clearing powdered with snow and with more than a few artfully crafted ice sculptures, there's laughter.

"And now it is your turn to make a statement, mister Wright," a child is saying airily. "It is time to conduct your first dab. I believe in you."

And that's exactly what he does. Timothy Wright dabs, much to the mingled despair and delight of the small crowd that notices. Someone whistles. Some clap. The child laughs - "By golly! Good show, old chum!"

And Tim grins a bit when he says, offhand: "Love you too, kid."

That's the thing, too.

He really means it.

The child's expression falters -

And the memory fades.

ii. true judgment ; atlas can rest his weary bones
cw: blood, spoilers for marble hornets

[A man lies coughing.]

[A man lies coughing on the ground, almost retching with hoarse, hacking wheezes. The house he's in is empty, all but deserted, but he's still obviously in a great deal of pain. He manages to pick himself up, panting - and not two feet away, there's a defaced mirror on the wall. The black letters splashed across it display a furious, taunting mantra: YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT. He moves toward it. His expression quickly drops, and he turns away - ]

[And lands on the ground again, as though space has just twisted and warped beneath him. He lands on his hands and knees on a crinkly floor of paper. Pages lie scattered across the ground, black with frenzied writing. Some have familiar accusations: YOUR FAULT. Most have a symbol scrawled over them - a circle with an X through it.]

[Again, Tim picks himself up - and stops dead.]

[There's a man slumped against the wall. His skin is ashen. His head is lolled lifelessly to one side. One hand lies limp and loose over his midsection, stained red - so much red that it's begun to leak down his shirt, down his jeans, and onto the pages beneath him, too.]

[Tim's breath catches.]

[He opens his mouth to scream something, maybe the man's name, and - ]

iii. true peace ; no burdens, no further debts to be paid

[This memory is quieter than either of the two. It's also nothing special. It's just Tim, sat down among an array of brightly colored bottles. Then he picks one up.]

"Can't decide on which color. Never done this before. Plus, I've really only got the one hand, so."

[He sits back and lets everyone, child or anthropomorphic mouse or enthusiastic teenager, have a go at painting his nails. Maybe you could too, if you interacted with this memory at much length.]

iii

[demonpuppy]

[Chip is incredibly careful while they apply the polish, pulling the brush down slowly in an attempt to keep it from running off Tim's nails. It's not too successful--the slower pace means that there's that many more chances for little wobbles to get color onto Tim's skin, and more than a few drips flood into his cuticles. But it's not too bad for a kid's first attempt.]

...guess I'm still not very good at this stuff.

[...well. 'First'.]

the drifter | ota | i'll match your format!

[hyperlit]

i. true balance ; my head won't threaten my intentions

[In the wake of their death and their subsequent resurrection, the Drifter has not been swayed in their efforts to explore new (and old) places in the slightest. They are a good deal slower and more prone to fatigue than usual, however, so it's perhaps not the least bit surprising when they eventually settle to the ground and shut their eyes...for a bit longer than normal.]

[This dream is a familiar one, for them.]

[The Drifter coughs, hoarsely. They're standing in what can only be assumed to be a sea of blood, crimson and glittering. They stiffen, abruptly, as though approached by some invisible foe - and then their sword hums to life and they slash at the empty air. This gets them to their feet, but they don't remain stationary for long. They stare at the space behind them, as though there is something watching them - ]

[Before running like a coward.]

[They trip or they fall or they stumble. It is as thought something grabbed them but there is nothing there to run from because they are seeing things and there is nothing behind them.]

[Just as there is nothing latching onto them. They land on their knees, start to tear at their cloak as though caught in some sort of web or tangle of tendrils. But there is nothing. There is nothing. There is nothing.]

[They reach for the sky, desperately. As if there might be some holy light that will burn away the tendrils of nothing that cling to them - ]

[But there is nothing there.]

ii. true fate ; and you expect that i'll be patient

[A figure lies slumped against the stone. A dark smear of pink-red runs down the length of it, as though the poor thing collapsed upon it and slid down to sit halfway against the ground. They're sprawled inelegantly, but anyone who knows the Drifter will likely recognize them on sight. Their crimson cloak is stained with their blood. Their companion sprite bobs anxiously beside them, chiming the repetitive cross-shape that indicates that they're injured. Badly.]

[They don't move.]

[They continue to not move. For a very long time, they don't move at all.]

[Their sprite stops chirping frantically. Gradually, it drops down to the ground beside them, its light flickering feebly until at last, that too goes dead. The weather and rain and entropy dims the luster of the Drifter's cloak. Their tunic and apparel start to grow progressively more tattered. Their skin grows stained with decay, until eventually there isn't a trace of blue skin there at all.]

[Only their helm remains intact, kept at an angle askew over bones that grow progressively older and darker with age.]

[The rain sluices down.]

[Soon, the only spots of color are the flowers that start to take root around and on the corpse; a delicate array of blooms, not so very unlike the Overgrowth.]

[And they lie still.]

iii. true bliss ; though it's great, it is already fading

[On a floating island, far above the land of Ensō, the grass is a rich green and crystalline waters run in a soft, peaceful burble. It is in this little slice of world, this practically edenic corner of peace, that two figures regard each other. One is the Drifter's, obvious and distinct. The second is, perhaps, just as distinct - small and horned and dark-eyed.]

[Then they start to dart, to and fro, frisking this way and that. It might look like the shadows of combat, at first. But it isn't.]

[They're playing, the both of them.]

[It's a small moment. But it is one of the few in which the Drifter was, for once, truly happy.]

i

[forwearemany]

(Legion is not among those who currently seek to avoid Umui. It is a potentially valuable source of materials, and even once they find that those materials are largely gone, they have other concerns that draw them.

They have been temporarily waylaid, however, drawn into the world of dreams.

The crimson sea is a striking difference from the expected terrain. They bend down, stick their hand into the fluid ...

The sound of splashing attracts their attention, and they look up to see-)

Drifter?

(They take off after them, but do not catch up until their ally falls.

They are struggling. And yet, instead of approaching, they hesitate. Does the Drifter desire their assistance? Will they accept it? Will attempting to help simply cause them to put themself in more danger?

Despite their doubts, they cannot achieve consensus for any option but to try.

Slowly they approach, and offer their hand.)

Drifter?

Ginko | OTA

[onegreeneye]

After Umui’s first appearance, Ginko couldn’t blame anyone for choosing to stay away from it when it re-emerges - but, for him, personally… he might as well. Apparently keeping his distance didn’t actually keep the Overgrowth away, anyway, and if he gets it again... well, at this point, what are a few more spilled secrets. Fine.

1a - True Judgement; cw: potential discussion of child abuse/suicidal ideation

The silence seems, somehow, to stretch on forever, filling and overflowing the room. It bears down on a young boy with unkempt white hair, and his single, bright green eye stays fixed on the floor, unable to bring himself to look at the man across from him.

“...I see.” As much as the silence may have weighed on Ginko, hearing Suguro speak again doesn’t bring any real relief. His voice holds steady, and Ginko’s fists clutch at the shabby fabric of his kimono. “We’ll have to close the mountain for a while.”

It takes some work for Ginko to respond; at first, the words catch in his throat, his voice weak and quiet even when he does speak. “Has… the ‘nature’ left it? What will happen to the mountain now?”

He almost doesn’t want to know the answer. If the fear still nagging at him after what he did is right-- if he’s killed the mountain, then--

“What you met was nature.”

For the first time, Ginko looks up, his eye wide - he’s too surprised even to be relieved, even though he knows he should be, as Suguro speaks. “If the flowers above ground are the mountain’s god, then those beings were the roots. If they took the god’s life into their hands, then it must only be a matter of time before a new god appears.”

There’s no time for Ginko to take that in, for whatever hope it may provide to settle in, before Suguro speaks again. “Now, it’s time you got ready to leave. I can’t forgive you for what you did.”

There’s no anger in his voice. It’s still quiet and steady, his tone as straightforward as ever as his words bury themselves in Ginko’s chest with a familiar, cold weight. “I never want to see your face again.”

1b - True Peace; cw: potential discussion of child abuse/suicidal ideation

“But… make sure you don’t forget. In this world, every person and place has a right to exist.”

Ginko’s gaze is still fixed on Suguro, and he finds himself going somehow stiller than he already had been, until he’s barely breathing. There’s still a painful knot sinking in his chest, but, if only for the moment, his now-former mentor’s words pull his attention away.

He’d expected the conversation to be over now; he would leave, and that would be it. For all the apprenticeships he’s started and failed, whether he was dismissed, driven away, or simply left behind, something about this is… new.

Suguro is still looking steadily at him, and Ginko finds himself staring back. For once, he wants to hear the rest, instead of just bracing himself against it. “It’s true for you, too. Nature itself allowed you to come back. The entire world, as a whole, is your home.”

There’s not much more to be said after that, and time blurs together as Suguro gathers what supplies he can spare for Ginko, and Ginko departs for good. Hours might as well be minutes, and minutes don’t mean anything as he walks, and walks, and the mountain draws away into the distance. It’s not until the sun starts to set, evening and night settling over the landscape around him, that he slows to a stop, standing solitary in a field that stretches out for almost as far as he can see in every direction, and speaks softly to nobody but himself. “I guess I’ll stop here for the night.”

He lays down carefully in the soft grass, setting his pack down by his side, and stares up at the sky, surrounded by life, though none of it may be human. He can hear the soft chirping of insects, see the gentle lights and indistinct forms of mushi drifting through the air.

Ginko sets a hand lightly over where his left eye would have once been, where he knows another mushi is settled into the socket - the only constant presence he can remember. He closes his good eye, and he listens to the world around him. And, there, he goes to sleep, more soundly and securely than ever before.

2 - True Bliss

“Alright… fine.”

He’s sitting in a simply but comfortably-furnished room - an inn, where a friend has gotten on good terms with the owner. It’s warm, the first time he’s been anywhere warm in some time, and there’s a gentle relief rising in his chest. He glances up at the teenage girl sitting across from him; her feathers and wings, and the talon-like state of her arms, are still strange to see, but he’s gotten used to seeing Heather like this, at the same time that he’s adapted to the fur and stones covering his own body. For the moment, at least, their physical states are far from being at the forefront of his mind.

“Let’s just say that you were being a… ‘rancid turd’.” He can’t quite keep the amusement from his tone as he quotes her, and maybe that’s a good thing. “And that it’s been completely forgiven. How’s that sound to you?”

He watches Heather carefully, not quite willing to look away - and he lets out a breath he didn’t quite know he was holding as she smiles, as tentative as his own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds… that sounds okay.”

He’s starting to relax again, for the first time in a while - enough so for the pain in his shoulder, the deep ache of a wound that hasn’t quite healed the way it should (centered around a spot that those he knows now may recognize, where a crescent bite wound left a deep scar), to be noticeable again, and it’s a relief for that to weigh on him more than anything else.

There’s not much time, though, for his attention to drift before the door bursts open, and a dark-haired boy with black fur running down his arms and glass-blue horns on his forehead steps in, brandishing a platter of tea and pastries, with his tail flicking behind him with pride. “See, toldja I’d bring back some goodies! Granny made these scones this morning, and they’re… ah, yeah, cranberry-orange.”

That warm fondness and relief fills Ginko’s chest all over again as Heather sits upright to reply, and the rest of the conversation blurs together, the words exchanged barely mattering as they eat; he just takes in the warm atmosphere, and the kids’ enthusiasm, and… he feels alright. As much as he could expect under the circumstances, and maybe more.

(( OOC: As the headers suggest, 1a and 1b are parts of the same memory; when tagging one or both of those prompts, please specify in the subject line whether you’re interacting with a, b, or both! As usual, if you want to plot something else out, hit me up over PM, on the game discord, or at omixgirl10 ! ))

1b

[ichininyaanshi]

Well... that guy sure seemed like an asshole.

That's about all Ichimatsu can gather from the scene; he doesn't really understand anything about the mountains, or flowers, or nature. Being part of it, whatever. Maybe it's because he's a city kid. More likely, there's just more going on than he has context for, but that's alright. By this point, in this world, it's easy to accept that people have way more going on than he's ever even imagined as possible.

He does know assholes, though. Thus his assessment: that guy is a dickhead. He might be softening the blow there near the end, but to Ichimatsu's outsider eyes, he's still rejecting and kicking a kid out. That kind of shit messes people up. In this particular case, Ichimatsu doesn't even want to know the context. Ginko did something shitty? Whatever, so does everyone. His eyes stay on Suguro long after Ginko turns and walks away, committing the guy's face to memory. He'll never have reason to think about him again, but Ichimatsu has plenty of room in his heart for pointless grudges of all kinds.

After a while, he turns and trudges after Ginko. Shadows him from behind for a while, saying nothing. As time blurs together, pulling the light in the sky into dark blues, and as Ginko settles down to rest, Ichimatsu finally closes the distance - and it's only to seat himself in the grass a good distance away, watching Ginko get comfortable.

If he notices that the other man has begun to fall asleep, it doesn't stop him from finally piping up.

"You're taking that 'nature is your home' thing seriously, huh?"

Keith | OTA

[thermalwind]

['I’m hard wired to check out anything odd. It was my job to do that back home.'

'It isn't your job here. But thank you for your concern.'

'It isn’t. It’s the only way I know how to be.'

Umui.

The island holds so many memories and all of them feel like jagged shards that could cut him if he lets them. He can't afford that. Not now, not ever. Striding straight into hell is the job that lets him feel like he isn't wrapped up in strings and blind folded.

He still doesn't consider himself a hero. He's going places to discover the dangers and keep people safe. It's much for them as it is to spare his heart the inevitable scarring.

When he's knocked unconscious he struggles with it, fighting to cover his mouth but in the end he falls down into another place of so many memories...]

I was a man that I'll never be again - [True Judgment]

[His left arm aches, the dull throb hard to ignore as he peels away the bloody bandages. In front of him Ember continues to crackle and blaze in the firepit, the small camp ringed in tall grass seems almost peaceful.

But his chest feels tight and guilt threatens to drown him. A tall man with white armor edged in black with a handsome face gently bats his hand away from the bandages. The scar across his nose and the concern in grey eyes might help others recognize Shiro.

'Let me help. What happened?'

His voice is low and soothing threatening to quell the storm raging inside Keith. He looks shades younger than the man observing the scene with a tired and mournful look on his face. His shoulders are narrower, he's physically smaller, built more like a dagger to the sword of a man people have come to know and see here.

He looks more human with rounder ears, pupils that aren't slitted, and lacking claws. This younger Keith lets his hands be batted away and drags the first aid kit closer. 'The last island had a group of people who punished anyone who showed emotions, was different...the list was a book long, Shiro. I had to use a spear's edge to get out of my bindings when we escaped.'

A cut snakes from his wrist to the middle of his forearm. The older Keith turns to look at the intruder and sighs. The guilt flowing from this memory is like a living thing tugging at the viewer like hands to drag someone down into the deep.]

We never escape this place messing with us. Do we? [Guilt tinges his words, the shadow of what his younger self is feeling in his slouched body, head hanging and hair falling into his yellow and violet eyes.]

Tonight i'm gonna star all of your leads - [True Peace]

[The water is deep and dark beyond the glow of the pendant around his neck. It's oddly soothing to sink down into the blackness, only idly swishing his tail back and forth as he continues to descend. His black hair streams upwards like ink injected into the water and accented with streaks of red and gold among the jet black.

He draws his knife from the sheathe against his back and swings it to the side as it flares with purple light, becoming a sword. Tranquility and a sense of purpose hang in the air mixed with the dull ache of loss.

It might invade if given a chance to as the memory of Keith plunges down into the lightless depths of the ocean with his sword and pendant lighting the way.]

I like to push it and push it until my luck is over - [True Fate]

['Good luck Paladins! We'll watch the ship while you're gone.'

The cheerful vaguely british tones make him smile on his way down the sleek white hall lit up with lines of blue. Keith reaches up and toggles on his com link. "I know you will. We'll be as safe as we can be."

He steps out into the hangar. It's a wide space that is so vast he almost can't see the ceiling. Like the hallway the Atlas hangar is sleek with square berths and sections for the ships parked inside. Keith strides down the length of the hangar, moving around what looks like Earth fighter jets. He passes mechanical lions raising themselves up as their pilots direct their actions.

The lions snarl and his smile grows wider. His long hair is braided and tucked into his suit, safely out of sight. 'Coran send us the location data.' He says as he strides up into the open mouth of the largest of the five colored lions. He hums to himself as he enters the cockpit and drops into the chair, the displays lighting up before he even grips the controls.

His mind is wrapped in the storm that makes him feel young and ancient at the same time. He taps his com again, switching in to a private line. 'Hey, Shiro. I'm ready to go. Moving Black into position. What's the status of our cargo?'

He gently taps the controls and the massive lion raises itself up and folds its red wings close to its body as it walks to the center of its hangar space. He flips channels. 'Everyone ready to take on cargo?' The chorus of replies lets him internally tick off each member of his team.

'Hunk? Run us through it again.'

'Right, you need to position the charges at the positions I marked on the map. If we have to do it at all.'

Lance sighs in the coms. 'It's a druid research facility. Something is going to try to kill us again and we'll be blowing it up again. We might as well just do it and get it over with.' He can't disagree with him but he will let them work themselves out as he does one more systems check. It can't hurt and he is a cautious man.

'Keith! Aren't you going to weigh in? Or are you going to keep whispering sweet nothings to your husband?' On second thought he might gently throttle Lance. 'The explosives are a last resort. We need to know exactly what is in there and deal with it. Yes, something will probably try to kill us. We're Paladins.'

Pidge finally pipes up. 'Yeah, when you kept your Lion you signed up to get yelled at, shot at, beat up-'

'We get the point. Thank you, Pidge.' Allura this time, sounding sleepy. Keith sympathized. He and Shiro had gotten to sleep only a few varga ago.]

true judgment

[galrarm]

... No, we don't.

[ It's strange to watch a memory of yourself and the person most important to you. But his eyes linger on those bandages, and when the ghost of Keith past speaks, he lets out a breath. Gently, he takes Keith's hand in his own. ]

But we don't have to face it alone.

Chip Abaroa | OTA

[demonpuppy]

Chip hadn't intended to come to Umui at all again--not after what happened last time. But Erika had gone to check things out, and she still hadn't returned and wouldn't pick up, and...

They don't make good decisions.

TRUE PEACE

The rain is heavy, not a torrent but enough to soak clothes through pretty quick if you're not careful. The wide fields of Nuidan make for a peaceful view, and underneath the shelter of an apple orchard are three figures, one large and gangly and the other two much smaller. The white masks of the vessel siblings remain impassive as always as they tilt upward to watch the falling rain, but Chip's expression is one of rare contentment. It had been a long walk to get to the trees once it had really started to come down, and they'd been very thankful for the Hollow Knight's cape for mobile shelter. But now the three of them had found a place to rest properly--and with snacks to spare.

Chip doesn't bother to break the illusion of the memory--there isn't much conversation to be held right now. The weariness keeps them calm enough that simply shifting to lean slightly against Hollow or reaching to point out some distant animals to Knight is more than enough. They won't be so greedy as to ask for more than this.

TRUE JUDGEMENT

It's a fairly small shop, only some shelves on the walls with books and a few odd-looking baubles in paper cases out in front of the shop counter. Behind it (and you) is a door to a larger store room, where the clearly more valuable merchandise is kept--and a bit less behind it are two people. One is a large man of darker complexion, currently bearing a gauze pad over his right eye and bent over a spreadsheet of some kind. The other is Chip, sitting on a stool and slowly working their way through a multiplication sheet. There are a few more worksheets beside them, spread out somewhat haphazardly and only a few of them filled out.

The silence as the two work only lasts for a minute or so before the door to the shop opens. A police officer walks in, looking down at a stack of papers as he steps in. "Hey, sorry to show up like this. But there's a couple things I forgot to get you to sign and--f--!!" He catches himself and steps back out long enough to let out a muffled explicative before closing the door behind him. "Your eye."

Grant looks up, his momentarily blank with something that could be panic or confusion before he shakes it off and replies. "Offi--uh, Yuji, hey. There was...an accident."

Yuji frowns at that, looking from Grant to Chip and back again with a serious expression, and Chip tenses up. "What kind of accident, exactly? Is there something I should know?"

"I didn't hurt him! I'd never hurt Grant, don't say that!!" Chip's sudden outburst startles both Grant and Yuji and they look blankly at them, obviously thrown off. Grant steps over to kneel down and put his hands gently on Chip's shoulders, and they quickly duck their head with shame. "I-I'm sorry--"

"Chip...no one's accusing you." Behind Grant, Yuji's expression twists up into an odd mix of concern and guilt, and Grant himself clearly looks worried. But it's from behind you, rather than in front, that a sniffle comes--and it's about then that you might notice a second Chip crouched against the wall of the storeroom next to the door, knees pulled to their chest and obviously trying very hard to not cry.

JUDGEMENT,

[bitch4bitch]

Ah, shit.

If anything was gonna make her regret coming to check the island out again, it'd be this, far more so than her own dreams. Erika turns to find Chip - the real, present-day one - and goes to crouch down in front of them, bracing her hands on her knees.

"...Hey. You okay?"

ASGORE | ota

[journalname]

a. true fate; cw: suicide

[This is not all that happened. This is just the very end.

It's getting dark. Sunset is casting its last thick gold rays, but they shimmer strangely, like the whole scene takes place on the edge of a soap bubble.

Asgore has fallen to one knee. His breathing is labored, and one hand is pressed tightly over his chest. White dust trickles in thin streams through his fingers. The child standing before him is familiar to some, perhaps - it's them, Frisk. There is a knife in their hand, and a heart-shaped locket glinting on their chest. Perhaps there's a bit of char on the edges of their sweater, but they don't seem winded. They don't even seem surprised. It's a little hard to tell what might be going through their mind.

Take my soul, Asgore pleads, head hung low. But they refuse.

We could be like a family, Asgore promises, looking on them for a moment with hope in his eyes. But that, too, dies quickly. It's just a fantasy, isn't it?

You have the same feeling of hope in your eyes, he says, talking now without an obvious point, going off-script. Frisk's brows furrow, but even as he looks at them Asgore doesn't seem to see them. Take my soul, he says again, and though his voice is mild as ever, this time it isn't a question. Before they have a chance to say anything, the scarlet of his trident manifests in his hand, only lasting long enough for him to plunge it - for once unhesitatingly - into his own chest.

Your freedom is what my son...what Asriel would have wanted. Asgore's smile doesn't fade even as his body collapses in on itself, falling into nothing more than a little pile of silvery dust. The white upside-down heart of his soul hovers in place where his chest once was, just like the souls of the other humans had, if only for a moment. It casts a wavering white light over Frisk's face. Maybe, in real life, they'd cried. Maybe they'd been angry. But Asgore didn't live to see, and so in his memory they simply stand there.

The real Asgore watches from the sidelines, hands folded in front of himself. This is not the first time he's relived this memory since it happened. It...it feels like it happened a long time ago. Having someone else around, though - he never wanted that.]

I'm sorry. You should not have seen that.

(( full dialogue is here if you want it ))

ii. true bliss; past

[This memory is a simple and quiet one. Asgore is sitting on a large chair in a room with silver walls. There's a younger boss monster sitting in his lap, and he is reading him a story.

Some people may recognize Toriel, sitting in the chair opposite the pair, knitting. More may recognize Chara, seated near the fire and working intently on a knitting project of their own. When the story is over, the children will likely run off to play together. Asgore might get back to the business of running a kingdom; more likely, he will sit and talk with his wife for a few hours.

It's not the only image he's sidestepped. There are others around here, layered over top of one another. Asgore in the garden, showing Chara how to use their worn dagger to remove the root systems of weeds; Asgore and Asriel walking through a cavern lit by glittering blue crystals, greeting other monsters as they go; Asgore wrapping his arms around Toriel as the two of them nuzzle noses, with a faint echo of a loudly embarrassed Asriel in the background.

He just keeps walking, arms folded with his claws digging into his shirtsleeves, eyes on the ground.]

iii. true bliss; future

[This room doesn't belong with the other memories at all. It's cavernous, yes, but not literally a cavern; just a white, sterile sort of space, lined with pods that are sliding open, one by one. None of them seem hurt, but some fall to the ground anyway, like people who haven't been on their feet in a long time. Asgore's pod seems just barely large enough for him, and he accidentally bangs his horns against the cover in his hurry to escape it.

All through the room, people are coming together in loud, happy reunions. Asgore greets several people: a little round robot he picks up off the floor, a teenage girl with bright green hair, a stonefaced man who probably just walked out of the Matrix. Rin Tohsaka. Throughout it all, there's one recurring refrain:

You really are alive.

Towards the end of the memory, the past-Asgore draws close to a teenage girl with turquoise hair. They hug, Asgore careful in his movements, and then start talking about the future. I will come along with you and make sure the Risen are alright. Perhaps I will help them find another place to live, afterwards...although they do not seem to like me much.

They just don't understand. The girl smiles sadly for a moment. You - did you reconsider, going back?

Perhaps I am still reconsidering. Rin and I are still going to go and break the Barrier, of course. But I...I do not know if I will stay to see anyone.

As long as you're, uh, you know, thinking about it? At the very least, there's...people who'd wanna know you're still alive.

I suppose that's true. But this isn't a sad memory, or it's not supposed to be. Let's move past all of that - he smiles again, reaching out to lightly lay a big paw on her shoulder. You know, I may know a few places where you could find a unicorn!]

iv. wildcard

[Find him around Umui or wherever!]

ii

[postictal]

[A happy family inside New Home. He knows too many of the details of this without having to see it. He doesn't know how he ended up here, either, and he's not sure if leaving is as simple as walking through the exit.]

[It still feels like an intrusion, a violation of a private moment. Tim's settled for packing himself into the furthest, darkest corner of the scene he can find, sat down with his knees drawn up to his chest and his head bowed, like that might shut out the peaceful scene unraveling in front of him.]

[Overall, it's not a very good attempt. New Home is too warmly lit and too bright to accommodate someone who desperately wants to keep himself hidden.]

Erika Fisher | OTA

[bitch4bitch]

A - True Peace

Sometimes, Erika pities werewolves that don’t have dogs.

For one thing, it’s a lot easier to remember to make your home dogproof and keep it that way when it actually needs to be for more than one night a month. For another… well, humans are social animals to begin with, right? And so are wolves, and most of the other animals that the ever-evolving lycanthropic curse pulls its “inspiration” from, canine or not - including hyenas. She doesn't know about other werewolves, but she's not really wired to be alone.

And, even if she had roommates, it’s not like they’d be able to understand her on these nights.

It’s the night of the full moon, with rain pattering on her apartment’s window, and Erika is curled up on a pile of blankets in front of her couch - the actual furniture clearly wasn’t made for anything like the bear-sized, furry creature she’s turned into - while some show that she probably wouldn’t be paying attention to even on a night when she was more equipped to focus drones on the television. The only hint, at first, that she’s not alone is a little puff of sandy fur against her side, too light to blend into her own brown, spotted pelt.

Snooch sits suddenly upright at a peal of thunder, letting out a noise of complaint, and Erika bumps her nose against his weird, beady-eyed little face with a snort. It’s not enough to keep him from whining again - yes, she knows, he hates thunder, there’s not much she can do about it - but it’s enough for him to settle back down.

B - True Bliss

At six years old, Erika is far from clear on how her dad got permission to bring her here - she knows he's kind of like the park's police, and that, every time they come here, he tells her again and again to "behave, or we won't be able to do this anymore". But that's about it.

What matters is that, on the nights when she's going to be a dog, she and her dad get the park to themselves.

As soon as she’s changed, Erika hurls herself out onto the grass, yipping and howling with excitement before she remembers her dad’s warning and pulls it back to an excited little whine. Can’t be too loud, but there are no rules about how fast she can run, and she goes tearing over the grass at full speed.

She can hear her dad jogging after her, fumbling to pull on the thick gloves he always wears on these nights; he always says he knows she won’t bite him, but he has to be careful in case “something happens”. She waits until she hears him finish pulling those gloves on to wheel around and fling herself at her dad at full force, knocking him back with her already-considerable weight.

He laughs and rolls her off of him, holding onto her big thumbed paws while she barks and wiggles in the grass.

Some distance away, Erika - fully humanoid and fully-grown - stands with her arms crossed, watching the scene play out with an uncharacteristic flatness to her expression.

C - True Balance; cw for some violence/blood

Punching her classmate in the face was far from premeditated. It didn’t even really matter what it was that he said, and it might not have even happened if her teacher weren’t a little late getting to class that day.

It's just the flip of a switch, in the fraction of a second before she moves; she was just going to sit there and ignore him, maybe jabbing back with some witty comment that might have gotten some snickering from the other girls, but, instead, she jumps to her feet and drives her fist into his jaw.

What the fuck was she thinking.

There are a couple laughs, more startled than amused, as the boy whose name she doesn't even remember staggers back and falls to the floor with a yelp, but they don't last long. He clasps his hands over his mouth, and blood dribbles between his fingers, and near-silence falls over the room, broken only by a couple murmurs, confused and surprised and scared, from around the room.

Everyone here was primed to be scared of her, she knew that, it was all she'd been trying to avoid for years. So why--

Something is about to break. Somethings, the silence settled over the room and something greater - everything she's been working for, every moment that she's bitten back a sound that might be too animal or even too aggressive, every carefully calculated laugh and gesture and word, is about to go crashing down.

She doesn't apologize, though that wouldn't be much help now. And she doesn't run. She stands there, frozen, as the boy sitting on the floor cries and someone shouts for the teacher and everything falls apart.

(( OOC: As usual, if you want to do something outside these prompts/outside the dreamscape, hit me up over PM, on the game discord, or at omixgirl10 !! ))

Castor | OTA | mind the warnings please!

[littlemhigan]

B L I S S [Spoilers for Stormblood, CW for blood]

The air is dry and a little cool, but the sun, even setting as it is, is strong enough to ward away chill. In the distance, tall mountains glow an almost unearthly red in the waning light. There’s a cacophony of voices nearby - close, but not immediate...below?

Ah.

Below is an entire city, torn apart by battle and only starting to put itself together. People mill about it’s streets and allies like colourful ants, lighting torches and singing songs of victory. It smells of salt and sulfur and ozone and sweat and blood.

A woman hums. Castor sits nearby on the battlements overlooking the city, resting herself against the still-warm brick. There are bags under her eyes and streaks of blood in her short hair but the smile she gives the city below her is one of unquestionable joy.



J U D G E M E N T [Spoilers for Heavensward, CW for blood and Death.]

Bells ring and they are maddeningly loud. Cold wind bites, leaving flushed skin and chapped lips and bells are still ringing.

A handful of people huddle together on what looks like a landing miles in the sky; a tall woman, a man in dark mail, a dark haired man in blue...and Castor, hair long and wild, seemingly in the process of screaming herself hoarse. At the centre of their huddle is a body, clad in a knight’s mail with silver hair, a distinctive nose and his face forever frozen in a tired, bloodied smile.

The bells are still ringing.

The group vanishes, leaving Castor alone on her knees to look up in time to see a streak of white-hot light shoot towards her, to see the silver-haired man raise his shield to stop it.

To watch that shield shatter under the strain and the man be gutted by the blow meant for her.

The bells are still ringing.

He dies quickly, asking only that she smile - “A smile better suits a hero.”

Bells ring and they are maddeningly loud.



P E A C E [MAJOR spoilers for Shadowbringers, CW for contemplations of mortality/impending death]

This world was built for giants. From stairs to handrails to doorknobs to benches, things here seem impossibly tall, and a few glimpses of the skyline beyond here imply this deserted metropolis is impossibly big, with white stone buildings towering into the distance.

There’s no sky; sunlight filters down here through a haze of water, cloaking this impossible city in a gentle blue-green light that seems both comforting and disconcerting - this city, in it’s strange perfection, lies on the bottom of the ocean.

Castor is nearby, looking out into the city from a doorway made for something several times her height. She looks sickly, almost like a ghost of herself, with the colour gone from her normally golden skin, and the weakness in her posture. Her eyes though. Her eyes are clear and bright and locked onto the largest building in the area - a citadel that stands impressive and imposing, forboding, almost, amongst it’s peers.

Maybe the look in her eyes is a familiar one, or maybe it’s Mu’s influence but the fact is thus: She’s looking at the place she expects to die.

Peace

[thermalwind]

The watery light pins him in place for a few long seconds. Keith closes his eyes and breathes through the panic. Bit by bit it recedes until he can put it away. This isn't Standing Water. Whatever this is, it's a memory.

The city is clear, detailed, and vast. Street lights cast a soft warm glow that reminds him painfully of Earth. He turns his head and almost jumps. "Castor!" Keith blinks and stares at her. He knows the look. He's worn it a few times. He's seen it on the faces of friends and allies. Enemies he has cut down.

She's pale and seemingly weak. Keith reaches out, his voice measured. "Castor?" When was this? What was this? "Hey. What's happening here?"

yukio | ota

[reflash]

bliss
[A much smaller, far more human-looking Yukio sits on the couch, politely waiting with a picture book in his lap as he waits for Rin and their dad. He could read it himself, he's five and already reading chapter books, but it's always better when Father Fujimoto reads to them both.

Yukio hears Rin squealing in laughter, and hears his dad too, that familiar amused voice saying now, Rin, calm down a little bit, Yukio's waiting for us. Yukio wiggles a little bit more into the couch, getting comfortable as his dad comes around the corner of the door, a familiar white-haired, robed figure, with a big grin and with Rin flung over his shoulder.

Look what I caught, Yukio, he says, and Rin laughs and kicks his feet and wiggles, and Yukio smiles, quiet and soft and really happy as his dad comes to sit beside him. Rin plops himself in Shiro's lap, wiggling and bouncing because he never sits still for more than two seconds at a time, and Yukio snuggles up against Shiro's side, where his dad ruffles his hair and wraps his arm around him. All right, let's see what book you have.]

judgement
[Yukio, age sixteen, human and with a broken arm in a sling and bone-deep exhaustion set into every line of his body as he walks through the snow, dazed and lost until he comes to a stop on a familiar bridge looking up at a familiar shop.

His bag falls off his shoulder, thumps onto the snow with a soft sound. He's too tired to pick it up again. But he's not too tired to step forward, to walk up those familiar stairs and just... maybe it will do something. He's chasing vaguely after that feeling from years ago, some kind of peace and he doesn't think he'll find it again.

He whirls around, like he heard something, and then behind him, up a few more stairs and at the door of the house is a familiar figure, a blonde girl bundled up in layers, and she stares at him, startled.]

Yuki-chan?

Shiemi-san... [He somehow wasn't expecting to see her here.]

What's wrong? At this hour... oh! Did you run out of supplies? I can--

No, no. [He raises his good hand, stalling her words as they come rushing out.] That's not it...

Come to think of it, this happened two years ago too. Remember? [She's chatting, smiling. He's stalling out, doesn't know what to say.] I asked if you didn't want to go home and you said--

Yeah. [He interrupts her, and she makes a little startled noise.] I don't want to go home.

[She freezes.]

Oh... really? But it's cold out... so come inside.

[She leads him inside, and he follows, and there's a split somehow, the Yukio in the memory following her and the Yukio as he is now staying in one place, frozen.

No. Don't go. But he doesn't say anything. He knows what happens next. He lived through this, he knows what happens next. He doesn't want to go inside. He doesn't want to see this.]

judgement

[vagabone]

[Catch him blinking in confusion. Okay, Yukio used to look human too, that's not the part that's throwing him. Ginko and Héctor himself used to be ordinary humans too... well, he'd still call himself a normal human guy. Death didn't change that.

But the way the present day Yukio looks... apparently it's not just Héctor he can't stand being nice to him. Unless there's more to this story...? Surely there must be to make the guy so ding dang nervous? Does he really want to open this can of worms??]

You okay?

[...why does he always ask stupid questions, when will he learn.]

héctor | ota

[vagabone]

True Fate - cw poisoning, death

[He's dead, that's a given. Everyone knows he is, it's impossible to miss the fact that he's a skeleton. But only two people know how and why... until now. He stands beside his own living self, helpless to stop this unhappy memory of his own murder playing out.

Two men are having an argument in a cheap hotel room, small, cramped and lit by gas lamps. It's not difficult to tell the slightly taller, scrawny one is a very much alive Héctor. His sort of skeleton always resemble their living selves.

The flesh-and-blood Héctor is distracted by his songbook for a moment... but he snaps it shut decisively and stuffs it into the suitcase too. So young. Barely twenty-one, only a few days since his birthday. He snaps the suitcase closed, picking it up and turning to the door in one fluid motion. Enough. Not one more night in yet another shitty hotel, missing his own bed and his girls. He can't stand it anymore.

His friend throws his hands up behind his back, still trying to change Héctor's mind...] You want to give up now? When we're this close to reaching our dream?

[He turns around just long enough to answer, scorn in his voice.] This was your dream. You'll manage.

I can't do this without your songs, Héctor!

[The other man grabs hold of Héctor's suitcase before he can open the door, and Héctor yanks it back, distain turning to actual anger. He's almost never said no to Ernesto, give him this one thing--]

I'm going home, Ernesto! Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up.

[And that's that. He's going out the door, maybe never to see his friend again. But it is what it is, he can't keep living this way.

There's genuine fury on Ernesto's face. If only Héctor had not turned around so soon. Everything could have gone differently... Ernesto regains his composure, slipping on the mask, completely calm. Even smiling a little, false friendliness in his tone.]

Oh, I could never hate you. If you must go, then... then I'm sending you off with a toast!

[The young Héctor is halfway out the door, staring into the night, longing... but it would be such a relief to walk away and still have his friend. He can't remember a time when Ernesto wasn't around, they've always been together. So... he turns back for that drink. One for each of them.]

To our friendship! I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo. Salud!

[Both men leave, walking together to the train station, telling jokes and relieving old memories the whole way... until Héctor starts to stumble. To bend over, clutching his stomach and dropping his things. Whatever's up with him, it seems to be so painful he can't shout for help. Can't say a word. He's doubled over, retching for a moment (not something he'd tell a kid about, if he's even aware later), and when he tries to take other step, he goes down. Hard. There's an unpleasant crack as his face hits the pavement...

And there his memory ends. The golden ghost of Héctor sags, shoulders slumping, and for once has nothing to say.]

True Bliss

[The next memory is a happier one, simple and sweet. A family of skeletons clatter about in a workshop, making shoes. They've done this most of their lives and continued it into their afterlives, working together for so long that they hardly need to talk about the work itself. It just flows along as they chatter about other things, warm and comfortable with each other. The very best family there ever was in Héctor's opinion, whether he knows them or not.

In a moment, the skeleton himself is shuffling in, barely lifting his feet. He's tired. So, so tired, but he made it. He survived the final death, he woke up, he's on his feet. Imelda is hovering behind him, just in case he loses his balance. He manages not to, settling into a chair as she hands him a pillow and a blanket. Time to get cozy!

He looks so, so happy. Genuinely so, a look of contentment on his face that's nothing like his usual manic goofy grins, way beyond his little fond smiles at Enso folk. It's a dream come true. Being with the Riveras. Listening to them talk and work and bask in their warmth. Learn who the three new faces are as they introduce themselves (Rosita, Victoria, Julio, finally he knows their names) and ask if he's doing alright, then if he needs anything. (No, no, he doesn't, this is more than he deserves...) His smile doesn't fade as he wraps himself in the blanket and eventually falls asleep to the sounds of work and family.

It'll all turn out alright in the end, see.]

fate

[reflash]

[This is not his place. He shouldn't be here, but here he is, and he quite literally doesn't have the words to say. So he stands off to the side, and hopes that Héctor doesn't notice him.]