[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

i have no self control. >:C cw: abuse

[holdmyhand]

[ it's horrific. Nothing like the last one she saw. Nothing like what she was expecting. Nothing she could have been prepared for.

Even the sounds are brought to life. The trophy is thrown, and Luna finds her hands covering her ears-- the sounds. They're like torture. His feelings sink into her skin, absorb into her bones. She's...she's afraid. He's going to hit Guzma. He's going to -- he's going to use something to--

She flinches at his voice, perhaps the scariest of all the sounds from this memory. Are you even paying attention? Her throat closes up. She wants to call for help. What is this? What's happening? Guzma is terrified. She focuses long enough to see the tears budding in the corners of his eyes, and wants to help him, but her whole body trembles with oppressive and terrible fear. Even reaching out for him is ineffective.

The club is brought out, and Luna's knees give out. She recalls meeting this man herself and thinking very little of him. Thinking so little of his house, and wondering idly who the little trophies belonged to. Why the clubs were dented. Why the bed was left untouched, and coated in a fine layer of sad dust. The reason looms over Guzma like the monster that it is, and Luna's eyes shut tightly. Her breathing quickens. Is she hyperventilating? The sickening crack makes her want to vomit. It's...it's Goli. She looks up long enough to see that it's Goli, and that sound is so unnatural and painful, and just make it stop. Make it stop.

She curls up. Unable to watch the rest, won't make herself do it. Hears the noises, ignores them. Someone cries out. A door slams open-- or shut?

Silence. It's the most welcome sound she's heard since this ride started. The sound of nothing. And you'd best believe that she's not moving. Curled up tightly, she just needs to breathe. Focus. It's okay. It's okay. Whatever that was, it isn't real, and it's okay. And since it's okay, there's no reason to be afraid. And Since there's no reason to be afraid, there's no reason to cry.

None at all. She presses her eyes into her arm to fight off that burning sensation. It's just a trick of the island. Storyteller hasn't been feeling well, maybe. ]

[yallstupid]

[If Luna is expecting any comfort, she is sorely mistaken...and will receive nothing of the sort. As the memory shifts and changes back to the sandy beach, the crackling fire, she will notice than a dark, towering figure looms over her, casting his jagged shadow over the little girl. It's none other than Guzma himself, and he doesn't seem at all turned by her tears, her fear, her compassion for him. In fact, it only furthers to sour his expression. Another one.

Another one to bear witness to it all.

It wasn't meant for her. It wasn't meant for anyone to see. That sort of agonizing memory was to be buried away forever, down in the darkest, deepest pit of his mind, away from anyone, and everyone. And to have it exposed for all to see? Guzma wants nothing more than to wake. To wake, and fling himself at the Storyteller, grasp their neck in his hands and twist. The other memories were frustrating enough...but this?

He exhales, like a dragon snorting smoke through its nostrils, looking down at the cowering child at his feet. He's still, and silent, only approaching a step or two his words coming from between grit teeth - a snarl.]

Get out, when you're done. [It's dismissive, and meant to be so. Guzma doesn't want peoples' pity, or their compassion. He doesn't want their excuses, or their comfort. He doesn't want any of it, other than for them to forget everything they saw.]

[holdmyhand]

[ his cold words sting...his insensitivity to her young mind trying to wrap itself around what happened is...hard to get behind. Her hands push on the ground to give her some ease while trying to stand up, and...god, she's a mess. Another reminder that crying will benefit no one. Guzma snarls so bitterly that she feels herself straighten up a bit.

She doesn't deserve that. Feelings rush back to her-- standing in front of him while a Yungoos lay captive at the feet of one of his grunts. I'm not here to see you. And he...laughed at her, with the same feeling that he just told her to leave. A shield, drawn up high, that only echoes in his ears when it's touched. He won't let himself feel anything. Nothing has changed.

And she wants to be upset. She wants to cry and be angry at his father-- who says things like that to their kids? Who'd lay a hand on their precious child like that-- and who'd go so far as to use a--

She swallows. It's gross...it feels gross, and she doesn't know how to handle it. ]

You promised. [ she murmurs it softly. Not asking questions. A hand falls into her pocket to reveal a flat, small blue tinged stone. Their promises. His half promise...which still counts. She can't make it better. She can't ask him to detail anything like that, and she knows that following that angry little quip he made would be an assortment of yelling...and Luna's not going to push him there. Not today. ]

You promised you'd...come home. D-don't...don't forget.

[ she glares up at him as best she can, and it's quite clear that she has questions, but...as long as he makes it back home, she'd wait. Maybe he'd never wanna talk about it, and that's okay, too.

It's just figuring out where to file that memory. How to make it stop repeating in her mind. ]

cw: mild self harm

[yallstupid]

[Their eyes meet, and Guzma...he feels nothing. He feels nothing but anger. Each grimy tear staining her face reminds him that his secrets were broadcast for all to see - his pain, his suffering, his descent into the sort of broken, fractured man he has become today. A runaway, a misfit, an unwanted and deranged child that clubbed his own fa--...clubbed a man to the point of drawing blood. Would he have killed that man, if left unchecked? It's likely. It's very likely, and Guzma hates himself for it.

Hates that he cares. Hates that he doesn't care. He hates being reminded. He put that time behind it, hide it away in the depths of his very soul, behind time and a hundred thousand walls.

She wasn't supposed to see it, and nor was he. He never, ever wanted to relive that day. He never wanted to go back to that house...why did he go back? For his mom? Because of what happened in Ultra Space, with that other girl, and that demented broad? That didn't seem right. It didn't seem right, and he felt like a stranger in that house... Never again. He'd have to make his peace and never set foot on that ground again. It's not his home. It's never been a home at all.

You promised - the words crackle on his skin and send Guzma reeling. You promised you'd come home. Don't forget.

He promised. He promised and he wants to bite back, take it back, tell her to piss off and...and what? He knows what, and Guzma squeezes his eyes shut as he grips his hands into his hair, fingers curling into the white strands, nails digging into his scalp. He lets out a low, agonized noise and shakes his head furiously, taking a few steps back and away from the girl, turns his back on her.]

RRRGHH--! WHY WON'T YOU GET IT?! I'M MESSED UP! I'M MESSED UP AND I COULD BEAT YOU DOWN SO STINKING EASY IT AIN'T EVEN FUNNY! YOU SEEN WHAT I DID, YOU SEEN WHAT KINDA MONSTER I AM!! WHY THE HECK DO YOU WANT ME TO COME BACK ALL'A TIME?! ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHING?! DO YOU WANT ME TO HURT YOU?! BECAUSE I CAN! I CAN, LUNA!!

[He can, and it's terrifying. It's terrifying, how easily he could hurt her, if he was angry enough. It's why he forbade her to go to Monsun, if she could help it. If ever...if ever they found each other in that awful forest, for any reason, he could so easily hurt her, and not stop himself.

He lost control of his body and mind once, he's not willing to repeat.]

I don't get what y'all see in me that I don't!! And I hate it! I hate how y'all think I'm so good when I'm not! I'm not and I know it - I can't change!! Trash is still trash no matter how y'try to rearrange it!

[holdmyhand]

[ his voice goes up. He's yelling now, screaming at her, feelings intertwined in absolute rage and self deprecation. She can't help but cringe. His hands sink into his hair and a hand reaches out for them before he absolutely lets loose. What is she supposed to do? What does she say to him? What can you say? He...t-to his dad...

...of course it's scary. Of course he's scary, but there's someone nice in there who makes mushrooms slightly more edible, and someone who loves his pokemon without fail, and...where is he? Which one's the right one? ]

Don't yell at me! [ she retorts with some anger. Bitter. Maybe a mob boss always stays a mob boss. Maybe his goons were liars, and he is just as weak and monstrous as he claims. A man who stole a pokemon from a preschooler. Who clubbed his-- that man to the point of breaking the clubs. Maybe he's as bad as he says. Luna's angry, fist shaking-- she just wants to punch him in the nose and scream back. After all, she's just worried!

...and she is worried. Scared. Is this the same guy? Who is this man?Who's she really worried for-- herself, or Guzma?

She scowls and turns her face away. It's not good. None of it is. ]

Some trash can be treasure. [ she thinks of Ren, who found, amongst a pile of rotting food in an abandoned market in a world she'd never understand...a small, plastic flower clip. And she was so excited-- she babbled about it to Luna with vigor...even though it was ordinary. Even though it was so plain, and small, and...it didn't have a point. It was just her treasure. Luna bites her lip. A genuinely good person-- that's what Ren is, because Luna's struggling to see the curbside appeal. ]

If you're such trash, why do so many other people love you?! Idiot!! [ she's yelling back now. ] I can't make you see it. I can't make you see how much people care about you-- even if they could be hurt they still care! I still care! Because you're you!! Why do you have t-to... [ she chokes on her words. Eyes are hot. Heart is pounding. ] ...b-be so mean?! No one here has ever asked you to change...have they?! That's wrong, and...!! [ she can't talk well now, the tears are in full stream, and she's so angry that she just has to keep talking-- she has so much more to say besides a choked sob. Besides an infuriated growl. ]

N-no one hates you for who you were...th-they love you for who y-you are...!

[ she sucks in a breath and then screams at him. As loud as she can. ]

IDIOT!!

[ does it hurt to hear the truth? She keeps her eyes shut tightly, arms trembling. Body shaking. You want to be a monster? Here's your chance. She huffs out a breath of air, exhausted at the amount of air that just left her lungs. Don't yell at a kid, Guzma. She doesn't know how to be an adult about it.

She's just a kid, after all. ]

[yallstupid]

[She yells back, tells him not to scream at her, and Guzma sets his teeth together, jaw clenched and muscles tense. His pulse pounds in his ears, and he's sure there's a vein throbbing somewhere, pumping blood to his face and making him look red - like some sort of fiery devil. That's what he is, that's what he does - he yells. He yells and is scary, angry, and bad. Big Bad Guzma...it's not just a title for show, it's the truth. He opens his mouth, ready to combat her thinking, to tell her to shut up and get out of his head, but...but she goes on.

Some trash can be treasure.

He remembers the same girl - did he ever really learn her name? Maybe, but he's forgotten by now, or just can't think straight at all. But he does remember the young girl and her love for seemingly useless things - things he'd so easily discard, or toss aside. Broken things, things with missing pieces, empty dolls, with their stuffing pulled out...and nothing left inside. He says nothing, and turns away again, away from her, hands shoved into his pockets. He says nothing, because he believes that to be true, but he doesn't want to associate himself with that - with treasure. It goes against everything he was told about himself, from childhood. What's right anymore?

People love him, that's true, too. Those idiots he took in - his grunts; his brothers and sisters, they may have been afraid of him when he was upset, but they all adored him, didn't they? There was always one - the one who loved to make those fluffy pancakes and sweet berry cakes, who'd always try her new recipes on him. Because she knew how much he loved sweets - and she'd always get so happy any time he cleaned his plate, or asked for more.

And then there was Plumeria, who had been with him through it all - his right hand, his admin, his second in command. The big sister of Team Skull, and his best friend. She knew how to talk to him, how to deal with him, and how to calm him down when he was about to blow his top. She could put him in his place, and he'd even allow it - because he trusted her so much. If she was the sister of team skull, then she was his sister as well, and he couldn't have been more happy to call her that.

He turns, looks back, uncertainly, when Luna goes on. I care. I still care. The anger seems to roll off him, slowly, as he's brought back down from his crazed high. The silence that persists, as she goes on and on, is dense, and heavy, but Guzma doesn't interrupt - he listens to it all, lets it soak in, and...and--]

G-Go away... [It's a tired, broken gasp of air, forced out from his lungs like a cough. It sounds wet, too, and Guzma tenses his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. Heat burns behind his lids; he wants to wake up. He wants to wake up and...and do what? Run away? Run away, like he did before? Take the emergency exit out of here? It's cowardly, but--] Just leave me alone.

[He needs to think.]

[holdmyhand]

[ she's been biting her lip since she called him an idiot. That wasn't a nice thing to say, and she starts deflating just a bit. Wants to apologize, but moving her lips is hard. This whole experience is hard on her brain, and knowing how to properly process it all is...well, it's hard. He's thinking about things, and when he turns away, she confirms he's...probably not thinking about nice things.

It's hard to think about nice things, sometimes. But...not impossible.

He wants her to leave, and she'd grant him his wish. He reminds her a bit...of Gladion, being that she'd seen more of Gladion before she came here. Very one-track minded. Needed alone time, and she was more than happy to let him do as he pleased. He knew what he was doing. She knew what she had to do. It's different, here. He doesn't know what he's doing...and Luna doesn't know what she's doing, either.

Her voice is soft, like a whisper. Lost without answers, she clenches her fists. ]

O-okay.

[ he's become so important that leaving is harder than staying. Is he like Gladion? Does he need space? Will he remember to come home? Does she need to vocally burn into his skin the reminder that people love him? She wishes it could be easier. That she could shut her eyes and not see a child, cowering beneath his fa--...another man, waiting to be beaten. A pokemon who would give their everything to keep that child alive and safe. She wonders if he thinks she pities him. If she wants to apologize. But in honesty, Luna doesn't know what to do. No apology could strip any layer of that heavy burden from him, but all she wants to do is apologize. All she wants to do is tell him that things will be okay, and that even if he's bigger than her, she wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, if she could help it. She'd have her companions beside her to make sure that wouldn't happen.

In a situation like this, her mom would hug her, and pet the back of her head. Back when she was small. Back when dad was around. Long, tan fingers would run through Luna's soft, black hair comfortingly. There, there. The voice of the angels cooled her hot tempers and any sadness. I'm here now, everything is okay. He...never had that, and Luna withdraws her hands to her sides, pressed tightly into her body.

She swallows thickly and shuffles backwards a step. Opens her mouth to speak. But what do you say? Nothing. Say nothing, and...remember to smile later, when he comes home. Remember what her mother did. Remember the patience in her voice, and the softness of her hands. Luna walks away from him.

Don't forget. ]