[MU] - NOVEMBER STORYTELLING

[lifeaftr_mods]

It's beginning to become an awful habit, turning the beginning of these nights into an information session.

Still. It is rather effective.

Borzoi may not usually come in pitch black; but then, most canines do not have the pitch black of their eyes. The Storyteller sits patiently by the fire as you, dear adventurer, do what the dream asks of you. Settle opposite, and listen.

"I can only imagine that you are as ready to leave this island as ever. Whilst we have yet to find a permanent solution, I believe there is potential for a new chapter to begin on stranger shores." In a rather rare display of indulgence, the Storyteller opts to sprawl out on their side, long tail thumping against the ground. "This is, of course, voluntary. In a few days I will be capable of transporting those who wish it to these new shores- however, coming back will be decidedly more difficult.

"These lands do not belong to me. It will be your first interaction with the avatars of the islands; gods whose domain is inherently the land they have chosen to call home. As any guest is expected to do, you will be subjected to their rules- please do attempt to be polite."

They're not going to tack Ardyn, Jaune, Lup, and Newt onto the end of that sentence-- but they're definitely saying that wholly for their sake.

"I feel that it is worth mentioning that these lands have their own laws- you may find that they have an influence beyond what you have experienced thus far. I can assure, at the least, that these influences are not inherently dangerous. But take it into consideration, should you wish to join those intent on being the forward party."

A final wag of their tail, and the Borzoi pushes back into a sitting position.

"I will be here for the remainder of this dream, to address any questions you may have. Please use this time wisely."

---

It is time, once more, for you to tell a story. The setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams. This too is a dream, and the ink-black dark is illuminated only by the bonfire surrounded by log seats. And seated around the fire are your fellow islanders, many of whom doubtless know the drill by now.

One by one, you will each have the opportunity to share your stories, as stories possess a certain undeniable power. Newcomers can tell whatever tale they wish, but for those who have been in LifeAftr for at least one Storytelling, only stories of their time in LifeAftr will count down the road. The story need not be long, or conventional, or even verbal; as long as the Storyteller knows it has been told, it will qualify.

If you prefer to keep your mouth shut, that's always an option, though you're more liable to benefit if you do. Perhaps you'd rather not relive any of your history, varied and variegated as it must be. Or maybe you're something of a compulsive un-truther, prone to embellishments and long, fanciful tangents. As long as the core of the story is true to its spirit, you are free to spin your tale however you like.

So choose well.

Comments

THE STORYTELLER

[lifeaftr_mods]

True to their word, the Storyteller will remain, seated at a fireplace separated from all others. Unless someone else chooses to intrude, your conversation will be private.

Needless to say, they are free to be approached at will.

on the 20th, after her ressurection

[foreverafter]

...

[ she looks at the storyteller as if she desires a need to be acknowledged. No leg, a makeshift crutch, and anger, somewhere in there. ]

[story_teller]

[Whether she desires a need to be acknowledged or not, the Storyteller makes absolutely no motion that they've noticed her at all - or, in the case that they have, that they care.]

[unpurify]

[Hey Storyteller, it's your favorite guy.]

How many islands are there?

[Trying to get some more information then usual, considering how last time in the caves ended.]

[story_teller]

[Oh and don't they just look so happy to see him.

Which, in this instances, means they face him with the same neutrality as always.]

Many. Their availability to you all is affected by many things; the changing of the tides, the weather. The amiability of the avatars who reside there, to having strangers on their shores.

exploration negotiations | public!! come threadjack!!

[crosslaced]

[Did you think that list was all the shitkickers here, Storyteller? Because you missed one, and it's his turn tonight.

For someone who isn't, Laurent does a great job of sounding like a Good Samaritan. Now that the others aren't available to stir shit, this blonde is turning over to address the god-dog; and he’s making it public. Just a concerned guy over here looking out for his islandmates, not at all implying that you're full of shit.]

Storyteller. Considering the last time you’ve transported us into an area you know little about, I can't help but be worried. A lot of us died in those caves…. perhaps you forgot, since you haven't mentioned it?

Ah- [He looks down to the sand in deference.] I suppose it’s a small thing to a god.

[Nothing to see here, just pointing out someone’s suspect track record.]

But I still worry for the others, especially the vulnerable. If something like last month happens again….. Can you provide something like a boat instead?

[scourgingstars]

What an excellent idea.

[you wanna fight, ST, two can play this game]

I concur, a viable escape route would be a brilliant idea should things decide to take a turn for the worse. Heavens forbid we should be left stranded with some other unknowable and unplanned-for danger.

Again.

[souris_keteer]

[Before he gets into questions, one must be polite, after all. Mickey tips his hat.]

Good evening, Storyteller. How are you doin' today?

[story_teller]

I am as well as I am able.

[The borzoi bows their slender muzzle in a mirror to Mickey's respectful gesture.]

There is a great deal that could be better. But then, there is a great deal that could be worse. And of yourself?

[prettypurpleparlor]

Good evening to you, Storyteller.

[Muffet approaches quietly, greeting them with her usual little curtsey, polite as ever.]

Since you're here, might I ask you a few questions?

[story_teller]

Good evening, Muffet.

[A mutual, first name basis. Truly, the air of politeness she has never failed to bring is a welcome reprieve. Their tail wags as she genuflects, bowing their head in turn.]

Your questions remain as welcome as ever.

[catpiper]

[It's tiring to be thrown into these new dangers-monkeys, disease ridden caves and weird monsters that look nothing like ghosts, but sure attack like them. And yet, it's bearable. Because there are people here to rely on, to look at, to hold hands with and it makes her want to stay.

I can only imagine that you are as ready to leave this island as ever and there's a selfish part of her that wants to say to them she doesn't. Ever.

But she can't be that selfish. Not when Seto is lost somewhere and the mention of a new island makes her wonder-]

Is Seto on that island? Do you know that kind of thing?

[And then-]

Is it a scary place?

[story_teller]

[For her, a dog will not do. Not at all. They know this. There is a dreamlike shift of the bonfire, as a great curtain of smoke and light billowing upward in a gust of wind; when it settles, the rabbit with which Ren is much more familiar has taken the borzoi's place. The Storyteller cleans their ears opposite her, seeming quite comfortable.]

Dear girl - would I know where Seto was, I'd guide him to you in a heartbeat.

[It is their regretful, roundabout way of saying: no.]

This is an unknown place. For many, that is synonymous with 'scary'. Fear is not so terrible a thing. Without it, we can't be brave.

[Then they pause, and soften their voice.]

I believe your bravery exceeds most.

[greatcleavage]

"...I honestly feel like an idiot, at this point."

This conversation was, he knew perfectly well, pointless. It would accomplish nothing. It would probably make things worse, honestly. But Roy was so frustrated, bitter, and angry that he couldn't help himself, facing down the Storyteller with his arms folded.

"I have been legitimately defending you, and I can't do it any more. We've crossed the line from 'trust' to 'we have no other choice'. So..."

He sighed, spread his arms, and said, "Is there any hope, at all? Is there any reason we should feel like anything more than pawns on a checkerboard? Do we have any gods-damned agency in the slightest bit? Or is the only reason we're here instead of golems and puppets the simple fact that the suffering of mortal souls is hilarious?"

[story_teller]

"You like to make a lot of assumptions, don't you?"

[encircling]

[ She has just the beginnings of thoughts, things she wants to discuss with the Storyteller... so perhaps if she speaks with them, it'll come together.

She takes a seat opposite them. ]

Hello again, Storyteller.

[story_teller]

Well met, Mira. [Her company is acknowledged with a slow wag of their tail.]

I imagine that you have some questions.

[aurabble]

[He hadn't told his own story. If his fears were correct, either of them, then there was no reason to. Either Weiss had died, or she was gone. There was no longer anything for him here. But he has to ask before he makes a decision Sitting opposite of them, the firelight reflected none of the animosity he normally threw in their direction. His face was blank, voice equally without inflection.]

Weiss. Is she still here?

[story_teller]

[The Storyteller, when they speak, is gentle, and their tone is mournful.]

I'm afraid she is no longer on the island. There was nothing I could do, once I realized it. [For that, sir...]

[They are sorry.]

[the_word_is]

Of course she approaches.

Maka isn't going to be rude, she's been raised too well for that. On the other hand, she doesn't exactly know what to do or how to be polite to this god in particular, so she approaches with a curtsy, and a nervous smile and a wave.

[story_teller]

It is always interesting, to witness these mortals present themselves before them for the first time. Often, these first impressions are already accompanied by an understanding of their stories- but it is the current story, the defiant lift of a chin, the challenge in the depths of their eyes, or the less certain curtsy that truly encapsulates who they are.

To her polite attempt at a greeting, the Storyteller bows their head. Perhaps, if their form had allowed for it, they would have smiled at her.

“Please, sit. I hope this island has provided a very different environment for you these past few weeks, Maka Albarn.”

[thisisourfuture]

[He has his own story to tell but he feels that can wait until after he's talked to the Storyteller. Hinata seats himself near the god. His voice breaks the silence in a quieter tone.]

...I'm sorry I didn't try to find you after the caves. I needed to think things over. [What to say. What is important to cover.]

But if you're ready, I'd like to ask you a few questions.

[hellawrath]

Oh, she's way past being impolite.

Lup has been waiting for this, ever since she was spat back out on the surface with the barest of apologies and nothing, absolutely fuck all to hold onto during the agony of waiting for Taako's return. Not even the slightest idea of how long she would have to bear it.

And no words on their ordeal now, either. It's not really surprising, but it stokes her ire anyway. And she doesn't give a single solitary fuck that it must seem insignificant to a god. She's not insignificant, and she knows it. So she approaches the uncharacteristically black dog, stripped of any artifical casualness. Her voice is even and tempered and cuts like glass.

First things first.

"I'm never going to forgive you. You know that, right?"

[ohnehalfte]

Newt is incredibly guarded throughout all of that, unable to help the slight twist of his mouth into a scowl at that comment about being polite. But his arms stay folded and he stays seated for all of that, surprisingly quiet. Maybe it's the hangover from yesterday. Whatever it is, it certainly doesn't temper the wary, definitely hostile expression he's got on his face, no matter how much he might try to stay cool. When he finally does speak, there's a deadpan to his tone.

"So. It's a choice this time, huh? You're not just gonna..." He extracts a hand briefly to wave it vaguely in the air before tucking it back in. "...toss us into the unknown whether we want to be tossed or not and hope for the best?"

[ishotyouuu]

The Storyteller isn't the only one who can be shadowy and cryptic. Suddenly they'll find the space beside them occupied by a familiar man clothed in red and black as he sinks down beside the fire with a soft, almost tired sigh. He doesn't acknowledge them, doesn't even look their way-- merely stares into the fire with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he speaks.

"Heh. Pretty sure this is what that great philosophers would've called a proper clusterfuck, yeah?"

His voice is carefully neutral.