[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

[hellawrath]

There's an exhaustion sitting heavily in her limbs, a tiredness of living and of dying over and over again, of being forgotten, of guilt and self-disgust, and she lets her head sink until her cheek rests on the crown of their head. Distantly, she realizes with some surprise how small the child in her arms really is, how thin, how undone. They're so good at making themself seem mature, self-controlled and self-reliant and dangerous, a spring-coiled knife. She'd been fooled by that to some degree too, even though she remembers what it's like to never let yourself show fear or doubt, to make yourself tall and confident so no one can hurt you or your twin.

Not really a twin, in their case. But a Partner, a second skin, a twin in Determination and anger. There'd been a family before that but they died choking on their own blood for a cause, for the future of their world and that had been it, severed from every bond that would have ever had a chance at giving them happiness and safety to balance their growing wrath. It's horrible and wrong and what made them become a demon-- Lup squeezes her eyes shut against a surge of hatred that isn't her own at all and rubs gently soothing circles into their back, more tears flowing quietly. It's okay and I'm here stick in her throat, she tries a lonesome "I know" but it seems pointless too and she's silent after that.

Time's weird in dreams so who knows how long they really sit like this. But eventually the trembling subsides and she finds a path around all the painful-familiar emotions in her head towards thoughts of morning, of the future. "Hey, Chara? If you're up for it, I... I wanna try it again some day. I think there's--- there's better music in us." A note of duty and devotion maybe, a desire for the best of everyone, that she only heard faintly under all their horrors. That's the one she'd like to practice.

[achievementhunter]

Her words are hollow; a singular attempt that doesn't so much fall on deaf ears as it just falls; fails to fill in the silence that follows as they both attempt to regain what they'd lost in those seconds- composure, the fortitude to keep standing, however or whatever she wanted to call it, Chara wasn't going to argue.

Her cheek presses against the top of their head and the heat in their eyes builds as they remember the last time someone had held them like this- several months at least but probably more, so much time lost between now and that October that they can't tell if it's only been seven months or a year or five since Wade nuzzled his cheek against theirs and quietly told them it was okay, you saved me, kid. You're my hero.

And for all the world they can't help, collapsed in her arms as they are, but feel every inch of that agonizing loneliness at the blinding nostalgia for the second family they'd managed to lose, before they'd even had the time to consider them as such. Sans is gone. Wade might as well be gone. Rin was never here in the first place.

It's just them, and Frisk, and Tim. Three people who should never be left on their own, but it's all they have. It's enough, simply because it must be.

Quietly, Lup's voice intrudes on their thoughts, refocuses them as they shift across her front, sniff against a runny nose and open their eyes to red that is too familiar and hurts, but they won't close their eyes to it again, not right now. She wants to do this again; she wants to try- for a better song. Similarities that don't hurt, and they find that their pessimism doesn't truly stop them from the hope that somehow, there is something in them that might, if only barely, replicate the burning sense that there is still something worth having faith in.

She uses their name and they don't even notice, because like Frisk and Tim, it doesn't sound foreign when she says it.

"I wouldn't be averse to that." Chara eventually responds; and as they do, they pull away. Release her robes and sit upright, eyes red-rimmed and exhaustion clear, but it takes very little, right now, for her to see the mask rebuilding. Too determined to do anything but, even now.

"...But I would appreciate-- if you would keep this from Frisk, for the time being. My--"

...

"My Partner has enough to consider as is."

[hellawrath]

They pull away and she's almost reluctant to let them go, to increase the distance between them. But they're willing to try again and that's all the reassurance she needs to know that, despite everything, there's still hope in the both of them. Seeing them regain their composure, she can't help but mirror it, expression drawn and hollow but less raw, more controlled. They're still themselves and that means holding their heads up high, facing whatever comes next.

The echo of her black curtained prison is gone, torn away by the whirlwind of new yet familiar memories and impressions. So maybe it was a kind of comfort after all.

Frisk, they say, and she barely notices because it feels like she's known that name all along. Boy, this is all... it's a lot. It's gonna take some sorting. And how much of her is in that blood red soul now? Are they gonna look at Taako and feel, just a little, like he's-- like he's more important than anything in the world? Are they gonna dream of alien worlds? Will they find something besides this leaden exhaustion and guilt-- It's too much to think about and she's so tired. She wipes her sleeve across her eyes one last time and nods.

"For sure. Wasn't really gonna try and... and share this with anybody anyway." It's definitely not hers to lay on their Partner. Could she even tell Taako? Where would she even start? But that's something to figure out when she wakes up. God, she can't wait to see him. She glances away and realizes with some surprise that the two of them aren't alone in the world, there's a fire in the distance, the shapes of people milling about in its light. It feels weirdly daunting, far away, and for once she doesn't mind the isolation.

"D'you wanna just, stay here? Until we wake up?" She really doesn't think she could deal with any more memories right now, her own or other people's. And hey, if they're made to see anything else of each other, it's not like it's gonna be an invasion of privacy.

[achievementhunter]

It's important, that she does let go. She gives them space and it is, at this point, sorely needed- the distant figures of others around the campfires still too close for their liking, even if they're far too tired to do anything about it. For once, the fumes of their being feel like they've gone out entirely- for once, it feels like something in them has pulled the proverbial brakes, knows enough to stop them from trying to muster the energy to stand when it's a pointless endeavor in the first place.

Something inside them, no matter how temporary it may be, stops. And in the morning, they may very well be all the better for it; more capable of pulling together the effort to go through the motions of the day without cracking with a single, unconscious influence of someone just as inclined to act, but with the experience to bend, just slightly, to the need to slow down.

"Sure." They don't coat their response in flowery verbiage, for once; now that she's agreed to keep this from Frisk, the guise drops. Something else to pull back together when they have the time and energy for it.

"...Lup?"

[hellawrath]

When they say her name, her gaze returns to them instantly, meandering restless thoughts focussed on them once more. She looks at their small frame drained of all that usual poise, sees this violated, angry, impossibly tired child and knows with sudden, overwhelming certainty that she'd do anything for them. She'd keep them safe and die for them, stop them if they ever needed it, be whatever they need her to be. All those things she'd do for Taako, or any other part of her family. As always, it feels good to be sure of something. Empowering, reassuring, to remember the strength that sits at the core of her being. And they're part of that core, now. Her exhausted expression regains some of its warmth as she meets their eyes.

"Yeah?"

[achievementhunter]

Slowly, they meet her gaze again. And it's a quiet uncertainty that they haven't felt in some time- a twisting, innate sense that they could share anything with her in this moment without judgement, that they want to, and it's a sensation so foreign and so, painfully familiar that they spend a moment just breathing, slowly closing their eyes against the sting and heat.

And for a moment, they have the wildest urge to- simply speak. Tell her something; about their day thus far. About Frisk and what had already happened, what will happen. About Tim, and the burning clench that accompanies the thought of both.

About...about their favorite book. Or that they really liked the gardens, enough so that they'd bear with the sun if they absolutely had to.

They just feel like telling her something, because a part of them is aware she'll listen. An eager over-enthusiasm to divulge simply because they have the option to, because the option's there.

They feel comfortable. And they feel safe.




"Thank you. For trusting me."

[hellawrath]

They're thanking her, for trusting them. This child, who'd rather die again than admit a vulnerability, who'll bare their razor-sharp smile and wit at anyone who looks at them funny, who puts so much of their willpower into being closed off and untouchable that the exhaustion of it is enough to make two people wanna sleep for a hundred years, they're thanking her for trusting them. It's so buck wild she's quiet for a second, one ear briefly turning back in surprise.

But it may also be one of the best things she's ever heard. It means they don't regret it. It means, despite exposing their own pain and feeling hers, it was-- worthwhile. It was good. She knows exactly how she feels about that. Her ears sink to a comfortable angle, and she smiles.

"Thank you for showing me." Now, with just a little distance to the overwhelming rush of horrors and misery, she can say that with certainty, too. They gave her something that hurt, so much, but something that is precious. They gave her understanding. A comfort, a confidant that she didn't know was possible. Her voice is soft, full of affection, like she's holding this moment with velvet gloves.

"It's-- it means a lot to me. Like you." In this moment, knowing her soul, she thinks they might even have to believe that.

[achievementhunter]

If they knew how much she'd taken from such a simple statement, maybe they wouldn't have said it at all. As it stands, she... assumes, to an extent. Extends her appreciation and compares it to their own, willing them not to contest that.

In this, one context, they won't. For the one, rare instance of feeling that someone has seen and understood entirely- beyond what Frisk could, beyond what Tim could, taken in the very worst they had to offer and found things in it that could almost be called a comfort, they can hold their tongue with...with ease.

Because at this moment, knowing her soul, they might even have to believe that. Their lips curve into a crooked smile as Chara drops their gaze, comfortable enough in her presence to not keep a constant eye on her, for the time being. Maybe that's not much, but

Just the ability to sit quietly for a while is

Nice.