The Mods of LifeAftr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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aftr_stories2018-02-19 08:51 pm
lifeaftr_mods) wrote in aftr_stories2018-02-19 08:51 pm
Entry tags:
- ;event: storytelling,
- dear evan hansen: connor murphy,
- final fantasy xv: ignis scientia,
- fragile dreams: ren,
- mass effect: commander shepard,
- voltron: keith kogane,
- ✖ captive prince: laurent,
- ✖ dangan ronpa: hinata hajime,
- ✖ disney: mickey mouse,
- ✖ kingdom hearts: xion,
- ✖ little witch academia: atsuko kagari,
- ✖ no.6: shion,
- ✖ original: yuka ichijou,
- ✖ tales of the abyss: asch the bloody,
- ✖ the adventure zone: lup,
- ✖ undertale: chara dreemurr,
- ✖ undertale: muffet
[MU] - FEBRUARY STORYTELLING / VOTING
Surprise, surprise, islanders: you're due for another lecture from your friendly neighborhood deity. An ocelot sits before the sprawling campfire on the beaches of Mu, grooming one paw - a paw that, on second glance, will prove to not be a paw at all, but a delicate cloven hoof.
"While I am not pleased with your intrusion," says the Storyteller, "it does not mean that nothing should come of it. You've doubtless glimpsed many things, most of which you were never meant to see. I suppose that's what some might call the wizard behind the curtain."
Some. Not all. They don't care to elaborate.
"Given that you're so interested in how the islands on this archipelago come to be, I will provide you with the choice," and here they stress the word with a calm switch of their spotted tail, "as to what sort of land you would prefer to brave next. I cannot promise safe travels, but I can guarantee the manner of materials those new lands may contain."
Four round dollops of sand wobble at the Storyteller's hooved feet, as though shaped by invisible hands, trembling, jellylike in the imaginary night breeze.
"The first...I have glimpsed flora and vegetation that may benefit you - for food, for medicinal purposes, for whatever you may see fit. The second bears something that I suspect can be used to fashion buildings, tools - an ore, of some sort. The third is...loud, terribly loud. A great many people live there, and they do not seem innately hostile. The fourth is full of noises, too, but of a different sort. I suspect a large number of beasts live there; perhaps tameable, perhaps docile, and perhaps not."
Their hooves have sunk into the sand, their amber gaze fixed and unblinking at some distant point on the horizon. Then, abruptly, they straighten, and the tension clenching their slim, felid frame eases.
"...cast your votes, if you wish. Whichever you choose, I will take us there."
It is time, once more, for you to tell a story. The setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams. This too is a dream, and the ink-black dark is illuminated only by the bonfire surrounded by log seats. And seated around the fire are your fellow islanders, many of whom doubtless know the drill by now.
One by one, you will each have the opportunity to share your stories, as stories possess a certain undeniable power. Newcomers can tell whatever tale they wish, but for those who have been in LifeAftr for at least one Storytelling, only stories of their time in LifeAftr will count down the road. The story need not be long, or conventional, or even verbal; as long as the Storyteller knows it has been told, it will qualify. Those of the nonverbal persuasion have, as of a request issued by Ren (catpiper), an alternative means of telling their stories if they so choose, in the form of the Chamber of Glyphs.
If you prefer to keep your mouth shut, that's always an option, though you're more liable to benefit if you do. Perhaps you'd rather not relive any of your history, varied and variegated as it must be. Or maybe you're something of a compulsive un-truther, prone to embellishments and long, fanciful tangents. As long as the core of the story is true to its spirit, you are free to spin your tale however you like.
So choose well.
"While I am not pleased with your intrusion," says the Storyteller, "it does not mean that nothing should come of it. You've doubtless glimpsed many things, most of which you were never meant to see. I suppose that's what some might call the wizard behind the curtain."
Some. Not all. They don't care to elaborate.
"Given that you're so interested in how the islands on this archipelago come to be, I will provide you with the choice," and here they stress the word with a calm switch of their spotted tail, "as to what sort of land you would prefer to brave next. I cannot promise safe travels, but I can guarantee the manner of materials those new lands may contain."
Four round dollops of sand wobble at the Storyteller's hooved feet, as though shaped by invisible hands, trembling, jellylike in the imaginary night breeze.
"The first...I have glimpsed flora and vegetation that may benefit you - for food, for medicinal purposes, for whatever you may see fit. The second bears something that I suspect can be used to fashion buildings, tools - an ore, of some sort. The third is...loud, terribly loud. A great many people live there, and they do not seem innately hostile. The fourth is full of noises, too, but of a different sort. I suspect a large number of beasts live there; perhaps tameable, perhaps docile, and perhaps not."
Their hooves have sunk into the sand, their amber gaze fixed and unblinking at some distant point on the horizon. Then, abruptly, they straighten, and the tension clenching their slim, felid frame eases.
"...cast your votes, if you wish. Whichever you choose, I will take us there."
It is time, once more, for you to tell a story. The setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams. This too is a dream, and the ink-black dark is illuminated only by the bonfire surrounded by log seats. And seated around the fire are your fellow islanders, many of whom doubtless know the drill by now.
One by one, you will each have the opportunity to share your stories, as stories possess a certain undeniable power. Newcomers can tell whatever tale they wish, but for those who have been in LifeAftr for at least one Storytelling, only stories of their time in LifeAftr will count down the road. The story need not be long, or conventional, or even verbal; as long as the Storyteller knows it has been told, it will qualify. Those of the nonverbal persuasion have, as of a request issued by Ren (
catpiper), an alternative means of telling their stories if they so choose, in the form of the Chamber of Glyphs.If you prefer to keep your mouth shut, that's always an option, though you're more liable to benefit if you do. Perhaps you'd rather not relive any of your history, varied and variegated as it must be. Or maybe you're something of a compulsive un-truther, prone to embellishments and long, fanciful tangents. As long as the core of the story is true to its spirit, you are free to spin your tale however you like.
So choose well.
no subject
A secret she will never, ever tell. Don't worry about it. Ren? Ren's a good secret keeper, apparently. Load her up with your catunny wisdom because she's delighted and excited and all kinds of thrilled when the bunny ears poke through.
This is the ideal-cat rabbit. Who would've thought?? Incredible.
She can't believe how kind they are-to favor animals that other people like. To find joy in being something that makes others happy.]
That's why your heart is good.
[But now-]
You should lay down and I'll draw around you.
[She will outline their body on the ground like she's starring in the world's weirdest episode of CSI.]
no subject
[It is a quandary they might pose to others, but not to her. Rarely ever, to hearts young themselves. The Storyteller simply inclines their head and moves to settle down, paws disappearing underneath the thick fur of their chest and long, winding tail splaying in a crescent across the ground.]
[Forensics away, dear.]
And what story are you hoping to tell with this, young Ren?
[Their tone is tolerant, amused.]
no subject
One about the pretty moon.
[Because their tail is sorta that shape.]
And the nice god playing under it. It's that kind of story.