[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

Maka Albarn | OTA

[the_word_is]

[Memories in subthreads]

i. these doors open inward

[the_word_is]

[I screwed up.

Maka is younger, closer to thirteen than fifteen, with long pigtails and a long black jacket and heavy boots and a short plaid skirt. The building is cold and dark and old, a cathedral that stretches up into the dark distance. In Maka's hands, a massive scythe with a blade patterned in red and black and an oddly expressive eye where the shaft meets the blade.

Across from Maka, someone swinging a blade. (Crona, it's Crona, but Maka doesn't know that yet, not here on their first meeting). The other teen is taller than Maka, thin and pale and dressed in black and swaying as they fight.

Maka is good at this, but she's on the defensive by now, swinging her scythe and backing up towards the doors. Back, back, and every hit she makes on her opponent does absolutely nothing. The other teen just bleeds black blood and keeps on swinging.

Maka says nothing, but the scythe in her hands yells with the frustrated voice of a teenage boy who hasn't quite figured out how screwed they both are.]

What's the matter, Maka? Stop his momentum and start attacking back!

[But if I do that, Soul...

Maka thinks, her voice tense in the memory even if she isn't saying anything. There's too much going on to say anything, her breath is strained and sweat drips down her forehead.

A flicker, a memory within a memory, the sword hitting the scythe and Soul screaming.

I can't block his sword. The only thing I can do now is run away.

Their opponent smiles, wild eyed and sensing victory.

Maka stumbles, knocked off balance by a swipe of that black blade at her ankles, and her back hits the door with a thud. Hope, and she yells out her realization.]

Right! The exit! [She doesn't turn her back to her opponent, she can't or she's dead, so she slams her back into the heavy green wood. Once, twice, and it doesn't swing open.]

Why!?

[Their opponent raises that sword high, not smiling anymore.]

That wasn't very good, was it? [A mouth opens on the sword, and it

S̨̬̘̻̭̬̠̮̠̣̘͙͙̣͇͍ͅC̞͈̤̺̰̟̹̙͕͙̺͜R̷̵͏̥͍͈̭͇͎̗͎̮̳͕̱̥̩̼͉͙E̵̢̮̼̻͙̟̜͈̥̟̣̮͙̫̜̕͢͝Ą̧̱̗̖͕̰M͏̷̨̪̖̼̳̩͇̕S̴̵̨̹͇̙͘͝ ]

You have to keep a firm grasp on what's around you.

These doors open inward.

[Maka knows what's going to happen. They're going to die, she's going to die right here and Soul's going to die with her and--]

Maka! Guard!

But you'll--!!

[The blade comes down, glowing pink with wavelength.]

[souris_keteer]

[At first, Mickey watches with a bit of enthusiasm. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from this kind of fight, he does have his own scythe tucked away in his little hut. But within seconds it's clear this isn't something to cheer on or applaud. This is magical, terrifying, and it's not going to end well.

... Also, are the weapons talking?

We'll get to that later. As the blade comes down, Mickey reaches out, wanting to shield the poor girl - before remembering that this is a memory, so, yeah, she probably got out of this alive. He clutches his chest, exhaling deeply.]

Th-that was really scary...

[the_word_is]

[It’s been a while since then, but the intensity of the memory still catches Maka off guard. Her heart pounds like she’s in the middle of a fight, and her hands curl into fists. She’s not angry at the memory, no, she’s angry at someone who wasn’t even visible then, she’s angry at the person who caused this fight.

Maka puts a hand on Mickey’s shoulder and smiles reassuringly, then writes a note out on her whiteboard and shows it to the mouse. ]

We were okay. Crona’s one of my best friends now.

[souris_keteer]

[Mickey turns to see her, and is much more relieved to see the real, physical Maka.

... Though the words throw him off. He turns back, as if glancing back at the memory, before looking at her again.]

... Best friends? Really?

[the_word_is]

[She nods, firmly.]

Crona's a really good person. It just took a while for anyone to realize that.

[It's... more complicated than that, but there's a lot of history there, a lot of things too close to Maka's heart.]

[souris_keteer]

[As nice as Mickey is, he has a hard time imagining being besties with someone who came that close to killing you. But of course he won't argue it.]

If you say so. Appearances can be deceiving and all... plus, I have no right to judge anyone based on first impressions.

[Given his absolutely awful one to her royal highness.]

[the_word_is]

[Yeah, Mickey, she saw those memories. But that’s not what she’s thinking about when she nods.]

You’re a mouse.

[souris_keteer]

[Blink-blink.]

What does that have to do with anything?

[... Ah.]

... Oh, right, not every world has folks like me. So I already make an impression even wen I'm not doing anything.

[the_word_is]

[Maka nods, firmly. ]

[souris_keteer]

[he huffs a bit.]

That's kind of unfair... but I guess it can't really be helped.

ii. and it was all just a dream CW: body horror/plants where they should not be

[the_word_is]

[[ooc: THREAD HERE, a dreamscape event]

You are Maka Albarn, fourteen years old and your parents aren't around in every possible sense of the world, a mother moved back to Japan years ago with no forwarding address, a dad in jail after one too many run-ins with the law. Typical angry foster kid stuff, less a mess than some of them for sure. TJ and Amal have been good while you're at their house, friendly and supportive and not trying to hard to be "dads".

And then your life falls apart completely.]

iii. the word is courage

[the_word_is]

[She stands, shaking, her vision blurring. It's hard to breathe, her throat aches under the bruises from a stranglehold. Blood drips onto the stone beneath her feet from a wound in her stomach she can barely feel. She's barely standing, thrown into the rocks so many times she's just one massive bruise, exposed skin scraped and stinging.

The sky is red, clouds twisted into shapes like eyes. Her opponent stands in front of her, a hunched grey-skinned figure wrapped in strips of bandages. He's yelling in confusion, running his hands through his hair and flailing a little as he tries to comprehend what she's saying.]

Relieved?! You feel relieved?

I don't have this power because I wanted it.

Huh?

I felt like I had to master it to keep the grownups from criticizing me, but I guess I'm not very good at that kind of thing.

Are you... stupid? [The Kishin isn't screaming now, isn't flailing around or pointing or yelling. He's just staring, hunched over with the trailing ends of his scarves raised to attack, but not moving. Maka steadies herself, because she knows she can do it, she knows she can beat this guy without trying to use her powers, without anything other than herself. That's all she's ever needed.

Maka's friends call out encouragement, and that seems to disturb the creature. Asura turns to her again, wild eyed and upset and unpredictable.]

Stop! Don't look at me like that! What are you?

My name is Maka Albarn, I'm a scythemeister.

No! I don't care about your name! That isn't what I meant! Who are you?

I am me, no one else.

[Asura keeps ranting, yelling, and prepares himself for one last attack. It doesn't matter. Maka has something he doesn't. Maka has something held inside her for her whole life, something that keeps her moving forward, something the people around her see. And it isn't her powers, it isn't her soul perception or her anti-magic wavelength or her ability to spin a scythe. It's the fire inside her, she's heard it in Soul's amazed laughter and felt it in Black*Star's punch and seen it in Professor Stein's approving glances. It's--]

Shujaat.

Huh? What was that?

I don't know, [she says, even though she knows exactly what it is. It's written on a postcard she pulls out of her pocket and holds in one gloved hand. She curls her hand around it, makes a fist and looks across at the demon god who wanted to destroy her world.] Maybe it's a magic charm. Whatever it is, it's got nothing to do with you.

But it bothers me! Why would you do that? I don't like it! Stop it!

If I stop now, I'll never be able to face the people who supported me and fought alongside me. It's because of them that I'm here now. They gave me their courage, and I'm adding mine to that.

Add courage? What are you trying to do?

I'm going to put it all into this fist! [She says, solid and determined and ready. It doesn't matter if she's hurt, it doesn't matter who her opponent is. She's Maka Albarn.

The Kishin doesn't get it, he's rambling again, but it doesn't matter.

Maka takes a breath, and rushes forward, even as the Kishin tears the ground apart and lifts it into a mountain, even as he attacks her with his scarves and keeps yelling about how there's always going to be madness in the world and how Maka's fight is pointless.]

Hell if I care! [She yells, skidding to a stop in front of him and throwing everything she has into the punch. Years of training, months of fighting the apocalypse, the strength of her friends, the determination and courage and anger in her soul.

Her fist his his face and she feels it cave in, feels bone splintering as he's thrown backwards from the force.]

I'm fine! [He laughs, but Maka knows better. She knows better.]

A wimpy human like you who has nothing could never possibly defeat-- [His face starts to crack, crumbling from within as he begins to literally disintegrate in front of her.]

Oh come on, you talked about putting courage in your fist but that was just an ordinary punch!

Yeah, you're right. Courage isn't special. Everybody has it.

Oh. [And he smiles, even as he's falling apart and his soul is leaking out the fractured edges of his body.] Then it's just like madness.

[And the Kishin Asura, the Demon God of Fear, collapses into dust.]

[prettypurpleparlor]

[A difficult memory... but, in the end, a victorious one. Hopefully, that's some comfort to the poor girl, since she almost certainly didn't choose to share it.]

[Muffet smiles gently at Maka, her expression faintly nostalgic.]

You know, I can't recall if I told you, but the magic my people do comes in colors, one for each virtue. The color of a courageous soul, or magic born from courage, is orange.

[the_word_is]

[Maka grins at Muffet, victorious and riding high on the memory of that fight and the outcome.

(The sky is blue, motherfuckers!! Patti and Black*Star had both yelled afterwards, ignoring their own injuries and jumping around on broken boulders as they laughed at the clearing clouds. Soul had grinned and slapped his hand down on her shoulder, jokingly complaining about his dumbass meister always punching things.

Afterwards, Crona had hugged her and whispered I knew you could do it in strained, excited tones. Her Papa had hugged her too, giddy and thrilled despite his own injuries. Professor Stein had patted her on the head and said good job, now let's get you patched up and he'd looked as tired as she felt but he was so proud of her, of all of them. Death had looked like absolute shit, black cloak turned to tattered rags, but he gave them all a thumbs up and a cheerful good job! Especially you, Maka!)

Not even Muffet talking about magic can bring her down. She grins at the spider, gives her a thumbs up and a silent laugh. If courage is orange, she's practically glowing with it.

She pulls out her whiteboard. An orange marker.]

That's me! What color is your soul?

[prettypurpleparlor]

[She returns her cheerful expression in kind, glad to see there's at least one happier memory making an appearance tonight. It's nice to see that Maka's found a way to talk to people more easily, too.]

Monster souls aren't as varied in color as humans- we all come in shades of white. By nature, we're made of hope, love, and compassion, but with enough practice and effort a monster can learn to use any color. ...Although most of us don't have the time and energy to put all that effort into working with colors we aren't particularly good with.

I suppose it's a fair balance, in a way- humans are stronger, but we're more versatile. That said...

[Her tone is playful, light and teasing.]

I do have a particular favorite, as virtues go. Can you guess what color it is?

[the_word_is]

What are the virtues? [Maka’s world has a sense of morality tuned to the laws of a god, where living a good life means following his laws and breaking his laws is sin.]

Yours is purple, right?

[prettypurpleparlor]

Very clever, dearie- you've guessed correctly.

[Muffet giggles, knowing her pale lavender skin makes the association an easy one, and counts off the seven soul colors on her fingers as she answers.]

Purple for perseverance. Orange for bravery, of course, and cyan for patience. Then there's gold for justice, green for kindness, red for determination, and blue for integrity.

[the_word_is]

[Maka glances around the fire, trying to put colors to faces. She... she doesn’t know these people well enough for that. She doesn’t have enough friends here. Back home, it would have been easy.

Her smile falls, but her curiosity doesn’t.]

Are those all the virtues?

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Muffet is concerned at Maka's sudden drop in mood, but doesn't comment on it.]

As far as I'm aware, yes. I admit it's not my field of study- running a bakery involves relatively little advanced metaphysical theory- but I've only heard of human souls ever coming in those seven colors. Not that the color of your soul is the only virtue you can have, of course, people are always going to be more complex than a single trait. It's more the one that's strongest in you, the one that guides you in life the most.

[the_word_is]

That would make things easier. It takes a lot of study to understand someone's soul in my world. [Maka's working on it, and she's got the basics, but she's not quite at the level of someone like Professor Stein.]

[prettypurpleparlor]

To be fair, the color of a soul is hardly the only important thing about them, just one of the more obvious parts. I'm afraid you'd have to ask someone who actually studies that sort of thing for more detail on that, though.

What are souls like in your world?

[the_word_is]

[Maka holds up a hand ("wait a second") and steps back. A breath, eyes closed to focus, and her soul starts glowing. She's assuming Muffet can see it, but even someone without soul perception could feel the energy rippling off Maka, see the way the sand moves like a strong breeze just rose up with her as the center.]

[thisisourfuture]

[He says nothing until its finished, compared to their first meeting he looks slightly different. His eyes have an older quality to them. Hinata's mouth twitches at the corner and twists up.]

That was a really good punch. [His eyes spark, a glint of humor in them. Courage is all you need sometimes, huh?]

You're right, sometimes...that's all you ever needed.

[the_word_is]

[She grins, raising a fist in the air and flexing. A punch, and courage. Hell yes that's all you need.]