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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[The scene opens on an unfamiliar place, a hall that appears to be made entirely of a strange purple stone, carved and polished to smoothness. The architecture is distinctly inhuman, high and vaulting and curving in odd ways, only to leave inexplicable gaps at places that seem like they should be covered... and at almost every gap, and on up into the heights of the towering structure, are beautifully intricate spiderwebs.]

[That might clue you in to exactly who this memory belongs to, even before you catch sight of Muffet, standing at the front door of the hall and chatting pleasantly with another, much smaller spider monster.]

[She appears much the same as she does in LifeAftr, neatly-dressed and well-mannered, though a very practiced eye might be able to catch the signs of wear on her clothing that don't appear on her outfit in the present day- ribbons tied carefully to hide frayed edges, shoes polished thoroughly to hide old scratches, the hem of her capelet mended with exacting precision to repair ragged patches. At a glance, you'd never be able to tell how carefully thrifty her charmingly fashionable outfit actually was.]

[The other spider monster is apparently a relative of hers, from how they address each other, despite being only about the size of a housecat compared to her human-sized form. Their conversation seems like idle talk, the kind of day-to-day things that any family might discuss, but there's a certain background tension in the air, as though everyone is waiting on some important news that hasn't yet arrived.]

[And then, with the sound of sharp-heeled boots tapping on the stone, it does.]

[The monster who walks up to Muffet looks for all the world like a tall, flamboyantly handsome human man- just one who happens to be made entirely out of metal. Those from more technologically advanced worlds will likely be able to recognize him as some sort of robot, a very well-made one, as though some brilliant engineer had decided the world was in desperate need of a mechanical David Bowie. He walks up to her quickly, looking deeply troubled.]

["Miss Muffet...?" "Ah, yes- I'm terribly sorry, I don't think we've met before?" "I- I'm so sorry, it's- I have some bad news. I wasn't sure who to come to, but they told me that the spider clans in the Ruins were under your protection, and... You've heard the rumor by now, that there's a human loose in the Underground again?"]

[Muffet's expression instantly goes grim as she catches the implication. "How many."]

["Everyone."]

Liar.

[The voice sounds like Muffet, but it doesn't appear to come from anywhere inside the memory, and no one in the scene reacts to it.]

[Muffet frantically pulls out a cell phone and brings up a contacts page, only to grimace as the call fails to go through. "Of all the times for the line to be down... I told them I could find enough money to replace that ancient piece of-" She cuts herself off midsentence with a sharp shake of her head and immediately turns to the other spider monster, rattling off a swift series of instructions to check on other people and try to contact anyone they can in the Ruins via an older backup method, finding out what their people need and if anyone else is in danger. They nod and rush off to do as she says. She smiles gratefully at them- and then, as soon as they're out of sight, her face drops back into the grimly set expression it held before as she turns to the other monster and demands:]

["Tell me everything that happened."]

[He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "Are you sure you want to hear this...? It's not-"]

["Everything."]

[He nods solemnly, giving in at her clear refusal to be sheltered, and begins to describe an impressively brutal series of murders, spider monsters and other residents of the Ruins killed one by one in horribly cruel, gruesome ways, all at the hands of this new human threat.]

Liar.

[If Muffet's sourceless voice is correct, then he's a truly impressive actor- the man gives every impression of being entirely sincere, someone frightened and horrified by the things he's seen. By the end he looks as though he's about to start crying.]

[Muffet, in the memory, simply remains stone-faced as she listens to him describe the fates of her loved ones, almost as though she's carved out of the same purple gemstone as the hall around her. "Thank you for telling me, sir. In the end, it's better to know," her expression softens briefly with a gentle smile, as she attempts to reassure him. "There's a chance some of them might have still escaped, we'll find anyone who needs family support and take them in." She speaks with the firm confidence of a leader prepared to look after her people- only a slight tightening of her grip on the useless phone betrays any concern about she intends to provide for a sudden influx of traumatized survivors when their finances are already short.]

["There isn't time to- you don't understand," he shakes his head fearfully and clarifies. "The human got past the Royal Guard somehow, they're still out there and I saw them heading this way. I'm not a fighter, but I've got plenty of money and I know a couple mercenaries live up near the Core- if I put out a bounty on a human soul, one that was big enough, then it'd be a fair trade for asking them to risk their lives to protect us like that, right?" He finishes explaining his plan with a shaky smile, the expression a heartwrenching combination of nervous and hopeful.]

[Muffet's quietly sorrowful expression would likely be answer enough even before she replies:]

["If they've gotten this far, this fast then there won't be enough time to evacuate. Not for everyone, not if we'd have to get to the Core and back."]

[She doesn't say who exactly would be left in the path of danger, but from the brief glance she casts back at the hall of webs, Muffet's opinion on the matter is clear- even one more of her people lost would be far too many. Seeming to make up her mind she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and turns to the metal monster with a sweetly cheerful smile.]

["I suppose I've some business to attend to here, anyway. Now, just how big a bounty did you say you were going to be giving me, again?"]

[Her dedication to taking customers for as much as they're worth even under difficult conditions is almost impressive- kind of a shame the moment is once again narrated by her apparently thoroughly unimpressed self:]

Hook, line, and sinker. Are you entirely certain that you're a spider and not a fish?

[Her tone is coldly bitter as the scene shifts to show the inside of the hall, a vast chasm of purple rock too deep and too high to either the floor or the ceiling. Across the gap is strung the most stunningly complex work of webbing yet: a broad and sturdy bridge made entirely of finely-woven silk.]

[Muffet stands in a smaller web, positioned to form a platform just above it, and listens to a step of approaching footsteps slowly come to a stop, caught fast on the trap she'd left for the next person to cross the silk bridge. They're dressed differently, but to those who've met them before, the human child stuck in her web is unmistakably Frisk- or perhaps Kidwun, if you know them by that name, instead.]

[Her expression is briefly uneasy as she peers down at them, as though wondering how someone who looked so harmless could be the threat she'd been warned about- but she casts the thought aside and straightens her posture, letting loose an affectedly sinister little laugh.]

They're a child you idiot, stop and think for a moment- that's what it means when humans are that small, they're not like us. For angels' sakes, they're even wearing a striped shirt- you have five eyes, how are you so blind?

[They turn at the sound of her laughter, and she steps forward to introduce herself.]

[She plays the part of the frightening monster well, posing dramatically and going straight into a menacing little monologue with all the cheerful viciousness of an actress who's always wanted to be the villain- but anyone who knows her, or who takes a second look, will be able to see how frightened she is. Gesturing flamboyantly to hide the way her hands shake, strutting back and forth to cover her nervous energy, smiling wider and wider in case the fear starts to show.]

[Frisk seems to dodge her magical attacks with an easy fluidity, standing calmly behind the little glowing heart of their self letting it drift neatly out of the way each time. Their timing and precision is almost... rehearsed. As though, somehow, they've done all this before. As this child somehow matches her move for move, calling on their own captive soul to stand firm against her magic without ever moving to strike back, the realization may begin to dawn:]

[Human society tells stories of horrible monsters, lurking in the dark. But to a society of monsters, the horror stories people tell are about humans.]

[This story, however, seems bound and determined to end a better way.]

How hard would it have been to find out they were innocent, you idiot girl? You could have taken two seconds to try speaking to them, to just talk to them like another person. None of this needed to happen!

[Muffet's aggressive heckling of her past self abruptly goes from verbal to physical, the spider lady that her fellow castaways will recognize as the current version somehow stepping into her own memory by the power of sheer outrage. She tries to put her body between Frisk and her own attacks, only for everything to pass through her as if she's not even there.]

[As the fight comes to a lull and the other spider from earlier dashes in with an urgent message, she stalks forward and reaches out, apparently intent on outright throttling her oblivious past self with her bare hands- only to snarl wordlessly in pure frustration as her counterpart fades away before she can touch her, the memory coming to a close as she reads the message and apologizes to Frisk, realizing at last that they've committed no crimes against her people.]

Too little, too late...

[It's unclear whether she's referring to her apology to the child or to her failure to strangle her memory.]

[It's not an easy one to watch and hear, that's for sure. Losing so many loved ones, blindly throwing yourself into battle... His chest tightens, hoping that she's not going to a horrible decision she will regret. And when the Real Muffet begins shouting, he worries that will be the case.

... But the child lives, and there's apologies, and Mickey exhales deeply in relief.]

I don't think it was either one... that could've ended worse.

Yes, it could have.

[Muffet sighs quietly, the anger abruptly draining out of her and leaving only deep, deep weariness.]

And I am, of course, relieved that it never came to that. But it was only sheer luck that it didn't... and no matter how it ended, it needn't have ever begun in the first place. All I would have had to do was stop and think for a moment, question what he told me- but I didn't.

And they were the one to suffer for it, not I. As though that poor child didn't have more than enough to deal with, even without me adding to it.

[He faces her, sad but hopeful.]

You made a mistake, we all make those. You were really worried about the people you care about... I think a lot of folks would've done the same thing in your shoes. I don't think the kiddo blamed you one bit.

You are a good person, Muffet. Everyone knows that.

[Muffet smiles gently at him, still weary but genuinely fond despite it.]

I can't say whether or not they blamed me at all, but I do know that they were nothing but kind to me even so- never the sort to hold a grudge, it seems. Which is... admirable, yes, but it still leaves me a bit worried about them. In a better world, they wouldn't have so much to forgive people for.

As for being a good person... I'm not entirely certain that good is something you are so much as something you choose, if that makes sense. At that time, in that moment, I made the wrong choice. And no, it isn't the end, and it doesn't mean that I don't have the chance to do better in the future- but I can't just pretend I wasn't at fault and let myself avoid learning from it, either.

But it does help, to hear that you think that of me.

[Big Smile!!!]

Why, of course I do, Muffet! I'll always think you're a good person, no matter what! We're pals! I'll always believe in you, and I'll always trust you.

[...okay, this is actually a surprisingly effective tactic, in that she would now rather stick her hand in a blender than disappoint him. It would probably be less painful.]

I think that kind of thing is how we all manage to be good in the end- we support each other as best we can, and try to help each other figure out what the right choice is when we have trouble finding the way.

But if you're looking for good people, dearie, I think all you might really need is a mirror.

[precious cinnamon roll is a powerful effect.]

Heh heh! I try my best... and that's all we should ever really ask of anyone.

Quite right. Just know that your efforts are appreciated, should you ever doubt that fact.

Heh heh! You got me, and I got you. No doubt about that.

After all, that's what friends are for.

[As a robot, Crow can almost understand the lies that the other robot in this memory speaks. Most of the humans may be dead, but there are still stories and books that speak of their cruelty, including the fact that they were their own undoing.

Even so...]

So what the heck did that guy have against a kid like that?

[The robot in her memory, he means. There had to be some reason why he wanted this kid dead that he would seek someone out to do his dirty work for him, and despite having never spoken to this spider girl before, he can't help but be curious.]

Nothing.

[Her voice is quiet, but her tone is bitter.]

Absolutely nothing at all.

[Muffet straightens up with a sigh, pulling herself together and letting go of her old grudge in order to explain more clearly:]

I doubt he actually cared much at all about them as a person- what he wanted was their soul. You heard, specifically, that he mentioned setting a bounty on a human soul? I know other worlds don't seem to deal with them as much, but for us souls are a very real and present thing. That's what that little light in front of them was, the one I had caught in my web.

A monster who claims a human soul and takes it for their own can gain incredible power. In theory, a human who claims a monster soul can do the same, but that's so much more difficult that it's never been done. If I'd brought him their soul, he could have used it to escape past the Barrier, the magical seal that trapped our people underneath the mountain.

... Huh. Why is there a dumb Barrier-thing keeping you from leaving the mountain?

It's a rather long story, but the short version is that a very long time ago monsterkind and humanity went to war with each other and monsters lost very badly. The survivors were sealed beneath Mt. Ebott with a magical spell- anyone can come into the Underground, but only someone with a human soul and a monster soul can leave, and it would take the power of a full seven human souls to break the Barrier completely.

[Muffet answers in the calm, steady cadence of someone repeating facts she'd learned in history class at a young age.]

...If you meant 'why did they think it was a good idea to seal people under a mountain in the first place', your guess is as good as mine. This was all long before my time.

Well I don't know about this war or anything, but the humans sound like jerks for doing something like that.

I can't dispute that, although I won't blame all of humanity for those humans in particular. Both of our species have done some thoroughly shameful things, over the ages.

Oh yeah? Like what? 'Cause for a spider lady, you don't seem all that bad in comparison to some things I've seen before.

[Muffet doesn't raise an eyebrow at that, because she doesn't actually have eyebrows, but she makes an equivalent expression.]

I'll take that as a compliment, then. Leaving aside the poor child you just saw, who nearly wound up being killed for their soul more than a few times as they made their way through the Underground, I know there were at least six humans before them who weren't so lucky. All of them fell into the Underground long before my time, I admit, but the point stands.

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[MU] - DECEMBER STORYTELLING / MEMORY SHARE

I. One of the seven deadly sins

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I think we can call this wrapped, unless you want to add more?

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