aftr_stories | [MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

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[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

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.

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Me too.

[He must understand how astounding that is. She thinks he might, as a guy that seems to get her feelings when she wants to hide under beds or behind logs. At least this is a discussion that doesn't make her fingers tremble or her voice shake. She sounds amazed, more than anything.]

Everyone says 'hello' and 'are you hungry?' and 'are you okay?'. They ask you things like that.

[...it is, isn't it?]

[It's kind of a shock, the first time you step outside of it. He was lucky; he got years to acclimatize. Years to pretend he was something other than a freak. He got to act and play like he had a normal life, like he went to a normal school before shipping off to college.]

[So he asks, entirely too serious to be serious, eyebrows lifted:]

And, uh...are you hungry?

[He might not be serious, but she thinks it over before answering, maybe taking it entirely too seriously in turn. And, well. It's a dream. She's not particularly hungry here. Between the elves and Guzma, she's set as far as meals go.]

I have a snack in my shoes.

[But she's not wearing any shoes. Where could they be?? A mystery.]

Are you hungry? Do you want that snack when we wake up?

[In the shoes she isn't wearing? Yeah, okay. That's fair. He huffs softly, part snort and part laugh, and something in his chest eases by increments.]

[Kids. They should never feel the way he remembers feeling.]

Nah, kid. It's okay. Mostly I'm glad you're okay. Y'know?

[She does know, if only because she's looking at him the same way. He's lived for a long time, so there must be something good in him that she lacks-whether it's in his heart or body or some combination of the two. It's difficult not to worry about him though.]

I'm okay. This kind of thing makes me happy.

[She squeezes his hand again, for just a second.]

Is this something you like too?

[Something he likes?]

[God, when was...the last time someone even asked him that? When was the last time he allowed circumstances to align so that someone felt like they could? He...has to think about that one, for a minute. For a really long minute.]

[Eventually, though, he squeezes her hand back, an incremental increase in pressure, along with almost a smile.]

...music.

I like music.

[The gentle squeeze is enough to ease her worries and seeing his face relax-that's nice.

It shouldn't surprise her there's another trait they have in common-music. She likes to hum little melodies to herself and can only imagine he likes to do the same. It's the method she's most familiar with and it doesn't occur to her there are other ways to enjoy music.]

You can sing right now-I'll listen to your song.

[SHE'S EXCITED]

I don’t...I don’t know any...

[Old melodies he picked out on the mess of instruments he hoarded over time, now lost in a bitter rush of gasoline like the rest of the compartmentalized pieces of a life that wasn’t really his at at all. Snippets of songs he heard on the radio, worked out by ear, and played over and over until he could play them by memory.]

[But that was kind of a long time ago.]

I haven’t played in a while.

Edited 2018-01-11 23:26 (UTC)

[Played.

She knows instruments, in the vaguest sense of the word, and a few come to mind now. Their names are lost to her, but she remembers seeing old toys in homes. In books. They're supposed to make music if you know how to play them. She didn't come across many that weren't intended to be toys from the beginning. The few she did were rusted, destroyed and unable to make any kind of noise.]

You know how to sing with your hands?

[And to demonstrate, she uses her free to pretend like she's wiggling her fingers over piano keys.]

That's the kind of music you like?

[Educate this dumbass, Tim.]

["Sing with your hands." That's...god, it's cute. It's the kind of thing he'd expect a kid to say, equipped with just enough words to get the meaning across but without having learned the specifics. How the hell she's managed to hold onto a childhood when it feels like his was utterly ripped away early on might just be indicative of her own ability to see things in a far brighter light than he ever could.]

Playing instruments, yeah. Stuff like guitars, or banjos. Y'know...they've got strings, and stuff?

[He mimes strumming a guitar with one hand, albeit feeling faintly ridiculous as he does it.]

[Placing the name with the actual instrument is difficult-with strings? It's a fuzzy memory and she copies his movement to see if muscle memory can make up where she so clearly lacks. It doesn't work. Nothing definitive is popping up.]

I can find strings.

[That's step one. Probably. Maybe he can play with those taped against a tree? Or something else? She's trying.]

Can you play with that?

It, uh...wouldn't sound real great.

[Damn. Maybe he should ask the Storyteller for something...]

[Stupid, right? Stupid. The focus is on survival here, not playing an instrument that he hasn't had time to sit down and play in months. Who's to say he'd even remember it? It probably wouldn't last very long, with the elements being as they are; the wood would get warped, the strings would fall out of tune, and there'd be no point. Who'd even wanna listen to some dumbass who doesn't know how to play properly, who hasn't played in months, who's years out of a music theory major he never got around to completing?]

[Who, aside from maybe...a kid, who doesn't know any better?]

Tell you what. I'll see if I can ask for one down the line, and I can show you.

Okay!

[Is it possible for one person to be excited? Clearly it is. She's practically bursting with happiness.

Also she might rob someone's home. Not great, but she's doing her best to assist this guy. It's something that makes him happy and she's going to Find It. Her treasure hunting skills will be put to the ultimate test or she'll help him in the form of magic wishes to get this banjo-guitar-whatever with strings. Whichever comes first.]

Can you play for Seto too? He would like that. It would make him very happy.

Don't think I know a Seto. He here with you?

[He means more "here" on the island than in a vaguer sense, but she talks about him like he is here. There's no reason to believe that he wouldn't be. Lots of kids are here, after all - assuming he is a kid.]

[Truth be told, Tim is making a lot of terrible assumptions here.]

He's here, but he hasn't found me yet.

[A thorough exploration of Enso forced her to realize that he wasn't on this island, so her faith rests in other ones. He could appear with them any day now. He absolutely has to.]

When he does, we'll come find you.

[And they'll lowkey stare at Tim until he pulls out his banjo.]

[That, uh.]

[That smells like denial. That rings like Jay insisting, trussed up and snarling on Tim’s living room floor, that Tim must know where Jessica is - must know, despite all evidence to the contrary.]

[Maybe that’s a false analogy. She’s just a kid.]

If you’ve never seen him, how can you be sure?

Because that's how it is.

[They were together and they will be again. He said he would find her and he always does, so she'll wait. It doesn't matter that she can't feel his heart or share dreams with him-not for one second.]

I can tell that kind of thing. I'll feel his heart soon. Then you can play that pretty music for him.

[So he isn’t here. He isn’t, but she keeps telling herself that he will be. Whether it’s childish optimism or simple hope or naïveté, at this point, he can’t really say.]

[How cruel a person does he have to be, to rupture that?]

Is that something you know, or something you hope?

[This is a daily struggle for her and his question is met with silence. She knows. She hopes. Both are there and they typically sorta merge into some weird hybrid emotion where she knows he's here because he has to be.

But it makes her wonder-how could he not understand that? How does he not get that the person that saves you holds a special place in your heart? Surely someone helped him escape from the lab, from the doctors-it's not a place you leave without help. Without someone to guide you away.

And so her answer comes out strange-a question in its own right.]

Someone saved you from that scary place you grew up-that's how we can be free now.

[Because he's an adult. Already at an age she knows she'll never reach. Maybe that's because someone saved him when he was young. Maybe he doesn't understand what it's like to know, because he already has that. Doesn't understand why she needs to know he's here.

And it's almost nice, to speak with someone so openly about this. Because he understands so much to begin with.]

Are they here with you?

[Surely someone helped him. Surely someone saved him.]

[It's the kind of thing a kid would believe. It's a perfectly innocent question, and his heart creases at the edges. Are they here with you? God, he hopes not. He burned that place down to get away from It, to get away from all of it, but mostly - just from It.]

[Are they here with you?]

[A shiver tracks the length of his spine, and he can't quite suppress it quickly enough.]

No, kid. I didn't really...

[He is a liar.]

[Or maybe he doesn't want to admit to someone he just met that he's got a history of arson.]

I just kinda had to wait it out.

[Wait it out doesn't even compute. It's not something you wait out-you either fulfill your goal or you die and that's how it is for people like them. But there's a reason he's an adult now-maybe it's because he has a strong heart. It gave him the ability to wait and survive. Arson doesn't cross her mind? That's probably a good thing.

He didn't need someone to save him. Maybe if she had a bit of his strength, she could've lived to be an adult too. And it brings to light why he doesn't understand the need to hold onto someone as tightly as she does. This man solved his own issues and she latched onto the first person she could and dragged him into a problem that wasn't his.

But still, she-]

You're very strong. You did a good job.

[Now he gets to be free 5ever and she squeezes his hand again. ]

I'm happy you got away. Now you'll be happy for a long time.

[He is a liar.]

[It's what he does. It means she doesn't look at him scared, like she should. Means she can smile and act like he was strong and brave, and not a coward hiding in the corner and under the bed, stealing blades out of the pencil sharpeners at art time and boxes of matches for the kitchen stoves and the lighter from the nurse who smoked during lunches, who threw the thing out before it was wholly spent and didn't watch closely enough for a little boy who went rummaging in through the garbage after.]

[It means she can act like he can be happy, when he can barely remember the years spent in college when happiness felt like less of an unattainable goal, and more like an actual standard.]

Well, so'll you, yeah?

[Nice change of subject there, Tim. Very graceful.]

[He doesn't say any variation of the yeah, I'm happy she was waiting to hear. It's something she notices, makes her fall silent for a moment, but his question to her is a reminder that-

She gets to live among others. She's able to hold hands with people who don't look at her as a tool and free from the grasp of a bitter ghost she couldn't run from. It may not be a long life, but for once it's her own and when Seto finds her, he can share in that happiness too. Even when she dies, she knows that warm, joyous feeling will remain in her heart. Will make her smile even when the pills stop working.

It's so nice here.]

Yes. I'm-

[And since he didn't say it, she'll just add him in anyway.]

This is a good place for people like us.

[Maybe she's a liar too.]

[That'd be a cruel thing to say to a child. An insult, when it's less of a willful lie, less of a malicious drape over the words that ought to be said, than it is a hopeless hope, one that they both know is hopeless but will be happily perpetuated nonetheless.]

[Not a lie, then. Denial, maybe.]

Hope it stays like that for a long time, yeah?

For Seto and everyone-I know it will.

[For once she wants to pretend this island full of kind-hearted people is something that might last. Where kids like Tim can escape after they're through waiting out tests and grow up to be adults. Where kids like Seto can be with people who will hold their hand and call them pumpkin.

For kids like her, who can enjoy the blessings this island offers for the short time they have remaining.

But she doesn't want to think about that right now. She's content enough to shut her eyes and think about Seto's smile and how warm this guy's hand is, even in a dream.

Everything's okay.]

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[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

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