lifeaftr | Returning Island: Umui

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Returning Island: Umui

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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[They're knee-deep in the reddish sludge underfoot. Whatever it is, they're growing ever more entrenched into it. Above - above - they need to get out, they need to get free, because if they don't, then - ]

[Someone's shouting. If they register it, it doesn't show. Perhaps they assume that he isn't real. They're fighting against something they can't hope to win against, but that doesn't mean they won't try.]

[A spreading patch of blood appears at their shoulder, and they shudder as though injured. It seeps darkly, like the flesh there has been pierced by some invisible weapon. That forces them to stop fighting, if only out of sheer pain.]

[It's the only window Ichimatsu is likely to get right now.]

[He grits his teeth, tightens his grip; it's a visceral reaction to being ignored, which is only one step sideways from being rejected, but he keeps his temper in check because it's easy to see that they're not in their right mind. It's also the urgency picking up a bassline pulse in his blood. He doesn't know why he isn't sinking, but Drifter is, and all this hesitation over hurting them is pointless if those random wounds are just going to keep appearing on their own. He's out of time to use words.]

[So time to be the bad guy again. Fine. Ichimatsu growls, drops the Drifter's wrists, and gets behind them, crouching down to thrust his arms underneath their armpits and lock his elbows upward. It's half a restraint hold in case they start fighting again, half the best way he can think of to get forceful while minimizing the strain on them.]

[They're still sinking. Ichimatsu tugs upward, not immediately trying to pull them out, but trying to feel out how much upward pressure he can apply to at least stop their descent. And then, he all but snarls into their ears, his voice reedy with strain.]

Damn you, listen to me!

[Stop stop stop is a thready pulse in their ears, like words of a song spun into their blood. They can hear it. They can hear it. It's carving pieces out of them. It's cutting deeper into them. It'll bleed them try. Kill them, again and again and again and again and again until there is nothing left. It will do it because that is its nature, but perhaps it will do it because it wishes brutal vengeance upon them for thinking they could slay it at all.]

[Maybe they never succeeded. Maybe - ]

[Listen to me.]

[Their throat constricts. They're having trouble breathing. Something is preventing their downward sink but they can't see it. Whatever it is, they can't - ]

[They can't see it.]

[A god?]

[Maybe. Maybe she's come for them, at last. Maybe - ]

[They need to get up. They need to get up. Right now.]

[Thank fuck. He has no idea what did it, because he sure as hell doubts it was him, but something clearly breaks open in his friend's body language. He can't see their eyes from this angle, can't tell how much clarity is there exactly, but it's the subtle way they shift from deadweight into something carrying itself at least a little - and not fighting him this time, either.]

[Ichimatsu locks his muscles, keeps that upward tension. It's about all he's confident he can maintain with his pathetic amount of stamina. The Drifter isn't that heavy, but he doubts he'll be able to pull them all the way out on his own. So he keeps talking; calmer, but his voice still loud, tone still urgent.]

Are you gonna snap out of it or not, you damn Drifter? Pay attention to what's going on and stop fighting me. I thought you hated that kind of thing --

[He grunts, voice breaking off as he feels the physical muck and pull of the blood beneath them and tries to resist it.]

[The unendurable tension clenching them in place can't last forever. They can feel themself being powered back downward, slowly, but the one thing they can do, the one thing they have to do, is fight it. There is another force trying to keep them from sinking lower. Perhaps it, too, intends to hurt them.]

[They will have to prioritize ]

[They cough, practically retching. It's so incredibly painful, but everything for them is - ]

[The awful ringing buzz in their ears intensifies. For half a second, the weight of the thing that's clinging to them might just barely, barely be visible, like some sort of ghastly shade - leering out at them, tying them down.]

[Ichimatsu freezes.]

[what the hell is that.]

[He's seen some fucked up things before. Mostly in his own imagination. But whatever the hell just flashed in front of him like a whip of dark, tepid smoke was unreal; like something pulled straight from the worst nightmares he's had and woken up from with the taste of bile in his throat. Familiar and yet not. It's nothing truly core-rattling, but the abruptness of it catches him off guard; Ichimatsu jerks back, blanching, but his instincts keep him latched onto the Drifter and he doesn't let go, resulting in a more violent yank than he'd intended.]

[That - creature... with those tendrils, like roots, flowing around them. A pink eye searing with the color of Drifter's blood.]

H-hey... that thing...

Like I care, you piece of shit?! Fuck off!

[He's snarling and spitting like a feral cat. And then braces himself, pure spite fueling him as he starts trying to pull Drifter upward in earnest. He isn't dumb; whatever is going on here clearly has to do with his friend's mental state, and while he might not know what he caught a glimpse of, it's obviously the main component of whatever mental bog is sinking Drifter into a very literal pit. Maybe he'll pry later, but probably not.]

[Now he's just angry.]

[Wallowing he can excuse. That's a choice. Being forced into it by some tentacle bastard? That just pisses him off, and he won't allow his friend the indignity.]

And you! Wake up before I kick your ass already!

[Coughing. Spitting gobbets of their own blood into the sickening red tide underfoot. With a low, wrenching squelch they rip one booted foot from the mire of offal.]

[They still feel as though something's still clinging to them, trying to drag them further down, but their vision is starting to clear, if only slightly.]

[They can't respond. They don't have their sprite. They can barely track what's happening, or whether the person helping them is friend or foe.]

[But at least they're moving.]

[They retch and they struggle, and they bleed on him and they move. He's hurting them. And that's the only way he ever gets anything done, isn't it; the only way he ever claws success out of anything. Maybe he gives up on being gentle too quickly, or he's too set in his ways to try as hard as he thinks he does.]

[Oh well.]

[They're moving, and he'll worry about other things later. Apologize, if he has to. Right now, the angle he's pulling them at is no longer ideal, so he shifts himself. Grabs their wrist and ducks his head under their arm, pulling it tight across his shoulders, his other hand going around their back. Closer to the supportive way he forced them to walk with him, the last time they were both covered in flowers.]

[If they start sinking again in this position, it's liable to drown him, too. A yoke pinning him against the tide until the blood smothers him. It's not a concern.]

[He's done talking. He just pulls.]

[The support is appreciated. Finally they're recognizing it for what it is - support. It's doubtful that they'd be capable of clawing their way out from this on their own. But now they're being hauled up, and someone else is guiding them along. Their own blood drips wetly down their front in pink runnels, but they force their feet forward, step for staggering step.]

[Ichimatsu will probably feel a resistance as they try to power forward, as though something is chaining them back.]

[Their sword. They need...]

[They reach for it automatically, but they can only clutch at the handle when it ignites. They don't have much in the way of strength to swing it.]

[They're not fighting him anymore, but something still drags at them like a physical gunk. He can feel it. When push comes to shove, though, it doesn't change anything - he's noticed by now that Drifter doesn't have the little floating thing they use to communicate, so there's no point in asking. Single-minded stubbornness is something he's good at, too.]

[So he keeps forward.]

[Until he notices a shift in the Drifter's stance: their hand moving towards something, a burn of light that he can't quite see from this angle. But... he knows what it is, he realizes with a whirring click of the gears in his head. Or at least he has an idea. He's seen them fight their demons before, after all.]

[Guess he really is lucky that they didn't draw on him.]

[They're not doing anything with it, though, so Ichimatsu isn't sure whether they're hesitating or just lack the physical energy to follow through. Either way, that's what he's here for. He lets go of the arm around his shoulder and reaches across, setting his hand above theirs on the hilt and squeezing - not hard, not aggressively, but as a question.]

[He's no swordsman. But he's great at following along.]

[The blade hums to life with a low, buzzing tone. Their grasp on it is feeble, but then Ichimatsu's closes around it as well, and...]

[They have enough strength for this. For this. They have to. So they lift it, though it feels immeasurably heavy. Their speed is gone. Their agility, their ability to speed forward and take powerful shots before their opponent can dismantle them in turn - all of it is impeded. Being held down and chained back in this way is, in some respects, their worst enemy. Their only skill lies in their capacity to evade blows before they strike them down.]

[They have to cut themself free.]

[Their blade is harder to wield, for the fatigue and the resistance sapping at their limbs, but for the first time in their life, they are not alone in using it.]

[The Drifter must only take aim and start to cut through Judgment's grasp as it tethers them back.]

[Ichimatsu still knows fuck-all about what's going on. And make no mistake - he still doesn't really care, so long as things keep going this way. So the more Drifter seems to involve themself in their own rescue, drawing their blade with his help and angling it with distinct intent, the more Ichimatsu is content to follow their lead: he keeps his hand on the hilt, but lets them guide the blade, applying pressure only when and where they do. An extra reserve of strength, and nothing else. A weapon is an awkward thing to handle with too many bright ideas on where to swing it, after all.]

[Who the fuck knows what they're cutting. Doesn't care.]

[Actually, no. Now that he has a second to breathe, Ichimatsu can at least hazard a guess. His eyes flicker to where he'd seen that ghastly afterimage, his pupils hard and full of flint. And because he's pissed off with nowhere else to direct it, because it seems like his friend can't hear him anyway so he sees no reason not to be his worst self, Ichimatsu gutters out:]

Whoever you are, you asshole... I'll kill you.

[The last bond is severed, and they stagger free. They splash through the thick, rancid pool of red underfoot, leaning heavily against Ichimatsu for a support they hadn't realized they needed.]

[Their breath is heavy and labored. They shut their eyes, open them again.]

[They cannot remember...if he knows how to speak without words. So they simply gesture with their blade, as best as they can - that they need to move forward. That they need to run.]

[(Ichimatsu. When did he get here? Was he always...?)]

[(Perhaps he was.)]

[They need to get out. First and foremost.]

[They pull free with that sudden, jerking motion, and Ichimatsu has to redirect his attention to catch and keep their balance, his hand moving from the sword to grab their arm again. Whatever was tethering them to this bloody mire, they're obviously free - which means his bloodthirsty threats, however sincere, have to take a backseat.]

[He clicks his tongue. No, he doesn't understand sign language, but he's pretty much mastered the silent communication form of body language after twenty-odd years of living with his siblings.]

Tch... yeah, I hear you. Just lean on me, alright?

[Maybe it's pointless, but if they're communicating to him, then maybe they've finally noticed and can hear him. At the very least, they should be able to feel the vibration in his chest as he talks, and hopefully that's reassuring - but either way. He reads them loud and clear.]

[Time to get the fuck out.]

[Wasting no more time, Ichimatsu pulls them tighter against his side and starts hobbling forward, his feet dragging in the muck, trying to feel out the pace he should set.]

[Ordinarily, they'd say no. They'd insist they can travel on their own.]

[But plainly, this is not the case. This is not possible, and...and Ichimatsu has always been there. For them, and for others. He's always been there to assist them, even when they did not want it - and they never want it. They do not want it now.]

[They can feel it. Judgment's glaring eye leveled upon them. The inexorable slither of the extensions of itself feeling their way for the Drifter's ankles, to root them in place again.]

[They need to move.]

[So they move.]

[Cough after rasping cough wracks their lungs. They continue to move. Perhaps faster than they should, given how painful this progress is going to be, but they need to outrun the entity in pursuit. And it is in pursuit, and getting faster.]

[They need to get out, lest this all be for nothing.]

[Or, worse, lest Ichimatsu be ensnared alongside them.]

[He's pushing them too hard... they're gonna choke to death on their own blood at this rate. But he doesn't slow down, only picks up the pace even more, falling just short of a full-on sprint. He'll drag the Drifter if he has to - if it comes down to it, he'll even carry them, as much as he's sure they'd hate him for it. Pride is one thing; stupidity and stubbornness another.]

[Besides, he can feel it now too: the heavy creep of something snapping at their heels. Some sort of presence. It could be a phantom dredged up by anxiety, or it could be a warning from those felid scratches at his instincts; the two things are indistinguishable sometimes, and that doesn't change the fact that Ichimatsu usually listens to them either way. Mostly, he just trusts that when the Drifter says to run, then they need to run. So he runs.]

[But the angrier, ever-present part of him thinks: right now, the both of them are nothing but prey. Screw that.]

[While he can move fairly well, neither speed nor stamina are his strong suits, so he's panting a little bit as his next words come out in a rush:]

Keep your sword out.

[Their breath is ragged and slow, but they nod. Of course they're keeping their blade out. Even if the slog is painful, even if they must struggle forward without their sprite, without any aid but Ichimatsu's. They can barely run. They can barely move forward, but they can still feel it - Judgment creeping closer and closer still.]

[They ran. When it found them the first time, they ran. It was only thanks to divine intervention that they did not perish utterly on the spot.]

[The time in which that same intervention would have interceded has come and passed. Help is not coming for them now. The only help they have is his - and that will have to be enough.]

[Their blade drags a little in the reddish murk, trailing behind them and leaving a scarlet residue on the glowing blade. But they raise it slightly to indicate that they still have it, and are still holding it. Even if their grip wavers, and even if their pace is unsteady - they still have it in hand.]

[The pressure on their lungs threatens to boil out. They swallow it back. Again and again, they swallow it back.]

[He barely catches the nod, but relief cools some of the adrenaline pounding through his veins. They're aware, and they can hear him - that's good.]

[There's the briefest, strangest moment when the idea to play the hero flashes through his mind - a willowing and indistinct plan to grab their sword, shove them onwards, and turn to face the threat himself. He crushes it before it even fully forms. It's a stupid thought more suited to one of his older brothers; he's not heroic like that, and even if he were, Drifter needs him to do this more than they need him to be a sacrificial lamb. He doubts they can even make it out by themself, the way they are now.]

[They're always so strong. Despite the pink ichor that drowns them every waking moment, so much brighter and more physical than his own, psychological gunk, he's never met a more capable person in his life. Even now. He'd have given up and sunk a long time ago in whatever bog this is. The Drifter - they came close, but then they fought. Didn't matter if it was just themself, or him, or whatever. Fighting's the point.]

[.... but this is taking too long. With a frustrated groan, Ichimatsu suddenly doubles over.]

You're gonna hate me for this, but -

[He doesn't finish; lets his actions do the talking for him, violently tugging at the Drifter's arm to bring them across his back. If he manages to get them all the way around his shoulders in a fireman's carry, Ichimatsu will take off running again within the next step.]

[They struggle. Of course they do. But they can't continue to fight him and escape the Judgment at the same time. They're wasted away, emaciated and underweight and ravaged by an illness that was capable of scourging an entire planet. And in their state, even weaker than usual...they can hardly fight it very much at all.]

[They lose track of things for a few moments until finally they register that they're more or less on his back. They need to get off, need to run - ]

[They can't. If they tear themself away, they might doom them both.]

[They keep their sword out, but like this, they might damage him as well. They need their guns...guns they do not have. They have nothing but their sword and their cloak.]

[Their sword buzzes out. They can't risk it cutting into Ichimatsu, even like this.]

I said keep the damn sword out!

[He barks it in that breathless, bellowing way that only someone at their limit can, the tension straining his nerves into anger. As he thought, the Drifter barely weighs anything worth mentioning, so it's his own short height and lack of physical ability that's pushing him this far. But they're moving faster now, even with his occasionally staggering gait, and that's the improvement he was looking for.]

[The glow of the sword zipping away from his periphery, leaving them completely de-fanged, is not. And it's enough to get him to raise his voice at his ailing friend. Because he's pretty sure he knows why they did it.]

I'll be fine - just cover us, damn it!

[He can't see them shake their head. They can barely muster the energy for it anyway. Making him do the work is wrong, all wrong, even if he protests that he'll be fine - he won't be. They can feel Judgment snaking up behind them.]

[A soft, retching cough swells bile up in the back of their throat. They've gotten good at force-swallowing it back.]

[They need to get free - they need to get free and fight Judgment back so that he, at least, can escape. It's too late for them, they know, but Ichimatsu...]

[If they struggle, it will only slow them both down.]

[But they need to make their intentions apparent. So they start to push away.]

[How valiant.]

[This why he fuckin hates heroic bullshit.]

[As Drifter pushes away, Ichimatsu braces them down in return, adamantly unwilling to let them wriggle off of him. Which, sure, using brute force works... but if he's got to make his point another way, then he'll do it. Though heavy breaths punctuate his voice, it comes out razor-sharp regardless.]

Enough of the self-sacrificing bullshit! If you're gonna be like that, then I'll just give up right here, too. Is that fine with you?!

[And he means it. His footsteps slow, just a little bit, from full sprint to a hard jog. It's like some nightmare where no matter how hard he runs, he doesn't get anywhere. Something's got to give. That's the only option at this point - to his mind.]

[Because it's not his mind that matters right now, is it?]

[They freeze on the spot, sagging against him. His reprimand works. They might be doomed, but that's no reason to drag him down with them, even if they've been doing nothing but that. They can't communicate what they want to him. Can't do anything but either obey or tear themself away.]

[And if they do not do the former, they may potentially doom him with the latter.]

[What choice is there? They will not compromise his safety, even if their own already is.]

[Fine, friend. You win.]

[They go limp. He wins. It's not a great feeling, even as he doubles down and picks up his pace again in response, but Ichimatsu already knows that being a manipulative asshole is one of the few things he's good at - may as well use it for good, or something.]

[Maybe he'll apologize later. Probably not.]

[How about just surviving for now.]

[... he's pretty close to his limit, though. His breathing is starting to get loud, dragging out a bit of his voice with every exhale, and he's not sure how much more stamina he's got. He gulps down a deep breath and says again, in bursts --]

Now take - the damn - sword out, or just --

[He turns the palm near their head towards them, his fingers making a hurried grabbing motion.]

-- let me help, you stubborn bastard!

Returning Island: Umui

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