[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

[lifeaftr_mods]

Something is wrong.

This may not very well be obvious, at first. The Storyteller is not present to put forth yet another diatribe, informative or apologetic, and the backdrop of guttering flame and sandy campfire is as present as ever...albeit briefly.



Those who tell their stories will start to notice something...odd taking place. Indeed, no matter how they intend to begin their tale, the land of Mu will immediately start to warp to accommodate it, or something utterly unlike it, until storytellers and listeners alike may find themselves in an exact recreation of a seemingly random memory, in the most stark and painstaking of detail. There is no altering the memory, nor is there any preventing it once it's begun to play - you will simply have to witness memories that are not your own this go around.

Furthermore, stories that take place in worlds other than LifeAftr will be, frankly, inevitable. Those memories, too, will be recreated, to be relived by the teller and lived by the listener.

---

It is time, once more, for you to tell a story...with a slight twist! This is, in fact, our first player plot, as provided by Dragon! The initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams.

Yet for this Storytelling only, people can imagine whatever stories they wish, from both their homes and their time on LifeAftr, as long as they don't mind the fact that others will be reliving those stories in the form of an impromptu memory share.

Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. If the memory is recalled in essence, Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.

There is, however, a benefit to this: those who venture memories to be relived will receive both a befuddled apology from the Storyteller, who will assert that this was most definitely not meant to happen (they're the Storyteller, not the Rememberer!), as well as a tired promise that the relived memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation.

Not that it counts for much, probably.

Comments

[hyperlit]

[...]

[Again, they must wonder...why. Why would she want to do such a thing? What benefit would that yield, for her? They are not contagious, they know, but they are not generally a creature that people wish to hold onto, and be near. Their memories, the phantom sting of flung stones and chittering outrage, is a solemn reminder of that.]

[But then...]

[But then, she has called them "pretty."]
[But then, she has showed them how to weave flowers into chains.]
[But then, she is extraordinary, in so many ways.]

[The Drifter nods, and holds out their hand.]

[Yes.]

[catpiper]

[The second they reach out to her, she looks to their hand like it's a treasure she desperately wants to smuggle into her bag. That's how happy she is.

It had been something childish she found out early on. On days where she could play for particularly long periods of time, because her stomach was full and she had energy to burn in spades. Those rare days she would amble around, looking at everything she could find. Playing with anything she could get her hands on. Sometimes making little nonsensical games of her own with only her hands because she couldn't find a treasure before dark.

And that little half 'c' reminds her something from those days. She saw it in old books where people posed for invisible cameras and discovered she could do it too. Maybe during a riveting game of shadow puppets.]

I think it's like this-

[She holds their hand for a moment, squeezes it once because it's okay and begins to use them as a model for this diabolical game. If they allow, she'll shape their entire hand into a 'c' and gently push their thumb down. And then she makes the gesture with her own hand, pressing it against theirs if they let her get that far.

THE END RESULT?? IT'S A HEART ♡]

Two smiles can make that kind of thing.

[A term like arc or c might be more accurate, but heck. They talk in smiles and she can too. NOW SHE CAN MAYBE SHOW THEM OTHER SHAPES LIKE SQUARE AND TRIANGLE. NICE.]

Two smiles make a circle too, but I like this one best.

[hyperlit]

[The Drifter does not have access to the colloquial slang of "the cutest shit I've ever seen in my goddamn life," but if they did, it would apply. It would apply to exactly this. They let her shape their hands as she wishes, watching bemusedly as she cups everything with a careful precision, and then...]

[It's a heart.]

[Two smiles make...a heart.]

[It's arrestingly simple. It's simple, and in its simplicity, it strips all the excess away.]

2 halves

[Two smiles, one from each party, to form...]

1 whole

[catpiper]

The song says that.

[Not in the same way Drifter had, but it's a sentiment she agrees with-hearts and all. Two hands, two smiles, two hearts-it's better like this. Way better. And she had to change their special hand smile into half of this heart, but she hopes they're still happy. That maybe this fun game managed to push away thoughts about their death for a minute. Maybe they'll think about this all night, like she will, and wake in the morning with their fingers in a 'c' shape.

She hopes.

Hand still against theirs, she admires the shadow it makes on the ground, and sorta half sings-]

We are two in one

[Addition is great!! MATH IS POWER!]

Those are the words. I think they liked hearts too.

[Maybe! Who the heck knows. She doesn't!! Who even taught her that song?? A mystery.]

[hyperlit]

[They don't know the words. They're not very good at songs, or music in general - she remembers, after all, how they had to substitute nice-looking flowers and symbols for musical words, because they lacked the voice to sing along.]

[They don't know the words, but they would like, they think, to learn them, even if they cannot sing them aloud.]

[We are two in one.]

[Two halves, of one whole. Like two smiles, forming a heart.]

can teach the words?

[catpiper]

Yes, that's something I can do.

[Of course she can teach them. It's easy enough to sing the words and all it takes is repetition on their end. They'll need to do hum the melody over and over again until it sticks. She's more than happy to help with that.

And she knows a way to assist them. They used a special series of drawings the first time they sang together and she sorta remembers which. She lets go of their hand, kneels down to the ground and starts moving her finger through the dirt as she sings. Which is, oddly enough, the one thing she isn't horrible at.

✿☆✿☆✿☽✿☽✿○✿○✿☆✿○✿☆✿☼✿☁

The terrible doodles look similar, but she attempts to differentiate them with moons, stars, and clouds between the flowers. That's probably how...it works. She did her best.]

Oh round white moon
Oh how beautiful your light is tonight
How truly precious you can be
I look into your eyes and softly touch your hand
Farewell love and tomorrow we will meet again

[THERE'S A SECOND VERSE BUT GOSH. She looks up to see if they've got this part down. This is her favorite song and she wants to teach them the right way!!]

[hyperlit]

[Slowly, they start to issue the words out across the HUD on their sprite. They cannot sing the way she can, but they can remember the words. They will ensure to commit them to memory, as best as they can, so that they may write them down in the waking world.]

[Or, if they forget, maybe she will teach them again, if it is not too much trouble.]

oh round white moon
oh how beautiful your light is tonight
how truly precious you can be
i look into your eyes and softly touch your hand
farewell love
and tomorrow we will meet again

this is where we pretend i didnt mess up the lyrics like five tags ago ok?? ok

[catpiper]

[She is so freaking proud of them and continues to make her dumb flower doodles in the ground, pretending like that helps in some manner. And if not, it's just fun. Flower sun flower cloud.

These are probably the lyrics they were waiting for and then the song abruptly ends. It likely had more to it, but this is what remains after so many years of being alone. No one could really teach her the rest, if there was more.]

Oh twinkling star above, how beautiful yet lonesome.
As sad and lonesome as I am
I reach out, for your hand, We are two and one
Farewell my love until we meet again

ITS FINE....ITS FINE

[hyperlit]

oh twinkling star above
how beautiful yet lonesome
as sad and lonesome as i am

[Oh...oh.]

[Lonesome, and then lonesome no longer. No wonder she likes that song, so. It is not only quite beautiful, but it - it is indicative of what the world here has allowed them. Two halves, joining to make a whole. Two and one.]

["Farewell," though.]

[They were never very good at those.]

not good at farewell

[catpiper]

[That's how the song goes, is what she almost says. As if the lyrics were impossible to change because someone uttered them once. Their problem with farewell flies over her head . She doesn't get why or the underlying meaning behind what they're saying. She takes the problem literally-maybe it's too many letters? It might be hard to type(??).

Because unlike Drifter, that word comes naturally to her. She said goodbye to the other kids, to some ghosts and even to Seto, once. Not always with words, but she would look at them and think farewell. Goodbye.

And one day, she's going to have to say it to Drifter too.]

Your heart can say that kind of thing on its own. You don't have to write that long word.

[#problemsolver]

[hyperlit]

[Your heart is meant to say those things on its own. Their heart is weak and failing - can they still say a goodbye that someone will hear and translate and be able to understand? They have failed to bid proper goodbyes where they are owed. They may fail again. The nature of death robs one of the premonition of when a goodbye would be best. Even when it is an inevitability, death is...always sudden.]

[Sudden and inescapable.]

[The Drifter’s hand rests over their chest, briefly, before they can muster a response.]

how

[catpiper]

[The how of it beyond her. To explain that complex thought in words makes her pause and fiddle with the fake petals on her barrette, like the small bit of plastic can answer for her. It can't, clearly, because the silence continues on.]

It's-

[Another pause. Frustration begins to show on her face and she looks at her own hands, places one over her heart, and lowers them again.]

I don't know the words and-

[She can't show them, like she could with Seto. There's no way to force her feelings into them.]

I can't show Drifter.

[Hard knock life. But as she sorts through her thoughts, an idea strikes her. One that might show them how it works, in a small way.]

Maybe I can make your heart do it now.

[ARE YOU READY BEAN??? She's got a terrible plan.]

[hyperlit]

[They cannot claim to have even the remotest understanding of what it is she is implying. But they do have one thing in their favor:]

[Trust.]

[Their heart, after all, is already so fragile and so tired. It continues to beat because it is a resilient creature, even as the pink-tinted sickness eats away at its veins and saps it dry. A little more cannot hurt it any further than it is already hurting. And, in the end, how could someone as gentle as Ren be a detriment to heart as wearied as theirs?]

[There is almost no hesitation, when they nod.]

ok

[catpiper]

[It won't do much. She already knows that. But to a child who knows so few words to describe what they want, who relied heavily on powers that no longer exist in full to fill in the gaps where she couldn't, this is all she can think of.

So-

She gives them a hug, if they let her get that far. It's not something she does often. It looks more like an attempt to hide given the way she presses her face into the front of their shirt and clutches part of their cape.]

Is it warm?

[And will this child explain herself? Of course not. Because she is a fool.]

[hyperlit]

[It's...startling.]

[They'd not expected it. They'd not anticipated that sort of complete embrace, that folding of arms around their middle and the way her fingertips fist into the fabric of their cloak and the front of her face buries into their tunic and it is both startling and...new.]

[Is it warm?]

[...yes.]

[Yes.]

[It is a stirring of a warmth and of gratitude and uncertainty and a great concatenation of things to which they cannot think to put a name, so vibrant is the maelstrom and so unknown is the sensation, but it is enough that they might slowly, gently, rest one gloved hand to the back of her head in an awkward sort of pat.]

yes
it is

[catpiper]

[She had meant to move away after they answered. As a way to show them how your heart can say goodbye by taking away that warmth. She didn't expect them to hug back or do anything.

But they pat the back of her head in a way that's reminds of her all the things she loves about this island. Kind people who take her hand. Who remind her she's not alone with gentle touches and nice words. She raises her head to get a view of the text and-

She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to say goodbye to anyone. Doesn't want them to say goodbye to her.

A dumb thought that ends as quickly as it starts. Wishing doesn't change anything and she knows that by now.

This is something she can change. Any desire she had to show them how it happens-it's gone with that one touch.]

I think maybe-[Pause]-I changed my mind so-

[Sorry Driftybean. If they don't push her away, she's going to keep a tight hold on them. They've got themself +1 literal child urchin.]

I want it to stay warm.

[hyperlit]

[There is...little.]

[There is so little that she could ask for that they would not do for her. This child, intent and vibrant and full of a strange warmth and life, who loves flowers and can braid them into crowns, who loves cats and insists upon their status as good omens, who gives them sticks in case their unbreakable sword should ever break, and now, who does this.]

[People do not touch them. People do not willingly grab onto a sick and dying creature with a tint of skin like theirs. People do not look at them and see something worth engaging for all but the bare minimum.]

[But there are still people like her. People like her, and like Guzma, and like the Guardian, and like so many infinite others on this island, of all places. There are people who are kind, simply because they can be.]

[It is a strangeness they've not yet the means of coming to terms with.]

[With time, maybe they shall.]

ok

[It's a simple answer, but they mean it.]

[Stay as long as you need to, Ren. Dream or reality, they will be here.]

[catpiper]

[The second ok registers-the moment where they seem to forgive her backpedaling from the task she had set out to do, she just stays there. Fingers curled into their red cape, face pressed against their shirt in a poor attempt to try and hear their heart beat since-

They're alive here.

And maybe as they keep living on, they'll remember her as the person that taught them to feel warm with a hug and how to shape hearts with their hands. She doesn't want to be associated with goodbyes. Never wants to make that offer again to people who are kind-who pat her head and play with her. Even if it's inevitable, she never-

She's going to take them up on that silent offer and quietly remain there until they wake from the dream.]