The Mods of LifeAftr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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aftr_stories2018-10-19 08:54 pm
lifeaftr_mods) wrote in aftr_stories2018-10-19 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
- ;event: storytelling,
- dear evan hansen: connor murphy,
- final fantasy xv: ardyn izunia,
- final fantasy xv: ignis scientia,
- fragile dreams: ren,
- hollow knight: the knight,
- hyper light drifter: the drifter,
- marble hornets: tim wright,
- mass effect: legion,
- red vs. blue: agent washington,
- the league: jules dagger samari,
- voltron: keith kogane,
- voltron: takashi shirogane,
- ✖ captive prince: damianos,
- ✖ captive prince: laurent,
- ✖ ffxv: gladiolus amicitia,
- ✖ ffxv: prompto argentum,
- ✖ hollow knight: troupe master grimm,
- ✖ hyper light drifter: the guardian,
- ✖ no.6: shion,
- ✖ pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- ✖ persona 5: ann takamaki
[MU] - FEELING LIKE A GHOST (PART II)
"No, no...no!"
The Storyteller's voice cuts through the inkdrop-dark, frantic and scrambling. A distant blot of campfire gutters in the far distance - far from where you are. The disorientation of the week preceding this one has translated into Mu, and everything is hopelessly out of place. The Storyteller sounds muffled, clearly addressing someone or something else, their voice cushioned by the uniform, void-like night.
"Stop it. Stop it! I wasn't gone for very long at all. You can't behave for two weeks? You have to make it all...all...wrong? I can't keep this up - not with what I've had to do since returning - !"
Gradually, however, the shadowy campsite solidifies into being. Or...a semblance of it does, in any case. Four glistening pyres rear out from the shadows, each glowing a different color. The strange material that domes them almost resembles worked steel, forming different patterns against their multicolored backdrops.
"Will you let them at least make the choice I left to gave them?" When there is no response, they sigh. "If you can hear me...I can't make it clearer than that, at the moment. Pick one. Pick one, quickly, and try to get out before it decides to make things worse! Just add a stick to whichever one looks best to you!"
Unfortunately, whether you abstain from voting or make your choice, that's not all there is to this night...
Tonight's Storytelling, further warped by Mu's capricious nature, will likely feel familiar to those of you who were with us in December of the year prior. Only this time, you don't get much choice in what kind of story you're telling...or, indeed, any choice in the matter at all. As you wake by the Storytelling campfire, Mu shifts to form three separate events from your character's present - which is to say, within one full year of their current canonpoint - 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.
While the initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams, things will be far more similar to the memory share that occurred in December. All memories must be from within one year of your character's canonpoint. For questions, please refer to our OOC event post!
Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. The memory does not need to be willingly recalled in essence in order for Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.
Just like the last time this happened, all memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation. So at least there's that!
The Storyteller's voice cuts through the inkdrop-dark, frantic and scrambling. A distant blot of campfire gutters in the far distance - far from where you are. The disorientation of the week preceding this one has translated into Mu, and everything is hopelessly out of place. The Storyteller sounds muffled, clearly addressing someone or something else, their voice cushioned by the uniform, void-like night.
"Stop it. Stop it! I wasn't gone for very long at all. You can't behave for two weeks? You have to make it all...all...wrong? I can't keep this up - not with what I've had to do since returning - !"
Gradually, however, the shadowy campsite solidifies into being. Or...a semblance of it does, in any case. Four glistening pyres rear out from the shadows, each glowing a different color. The strange material that domes them almost resembles worked steel, forming different patterns against their multicolored backdrops.
[ ♆ ] The first glows a deep crimson, kicking scarlet embers into the dream-night air. Its pit sphere portrays a crowd of people in silhouette, heads bowed in genuflection - paying homage to some looping, many-coiled shape in the sky above.Beside each pyre is heaped a pile of sticks, colored to correspond to their respective flames. The Storyteller sounds agitated when they manage to speak again:
[ ♆ ] The second glows a deep orange. Its pit sphere is worked into the shape of a looming mountain, with what might be some sort of village or ruin sprawled at its base.
[ ♆ ] The third's flames are a rich green. Its designs are most abstract; the starburst patterns that swirl across the metallic composition of its fire pit sphere could be explosions, maybe...or something else entirely.
[ ♆ ] The fourth pyre is one bearing host to golden flames, amber sparks sprayed out from behind the shape of a set of scales nestled among a flurry of birdlike shapes.
"Will you let them at least make the choice I left to gave them?" When there is no response, they sigh. "If you can hear me...I can't make it clearer than that, at the moment. Pick one. Pick one, quickly, and try to get out before it decides to make things worse! Just add a stick to whichever one looks best to you!"
Unfortunately, whether you abstain from voting or make your choice, that's not all there is to this night...
Tonight's Storytelling, further warped by Mu's capricious nature, will likely feel familiar to those of you who were with us in December of the year prior. Only this time, you don't get much choice in what kind of story you're telling...or, indeed, any choice in the matter at all. As you wake by the Storytelling campfire, Mu shifts to form three separate events from your character's present - which is to say, within one full year of their current canonpoint - 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.
While the initial setting will be familiar for oldcomers, and newcomers will recognize it from the introduction they received in their dreams, things will be far more similar to the memory share that occurred in December. All memories must be from within one year of your character's canonpoint. For questions, please refer to our OOC event post!
Even those who prefer not to voice their stories aloud are not safe this time around. The memory does not need to be willingly recalled in essence in order for Mu will shift to accommodate it in full.
Just like the last time this happened, all memories will be worth two offerings each, as if in compensation. So at least there's that!
OOC || VOTING
OPTION 1
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+1
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OPTION 2
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+1
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OPTION 3
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Re: OPTION 3
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OPTION 4
Re: OPTION 4
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OOC || FORM
Remember that for this event only, the memory must be from the timeframe of one year from your character's current canonpoint, in either direction. Also, please be advised that we will not be accepting handwaved non-compulsory AC this time - you must include a write-up of your memory on the post for it to count for double the offerings!
no subject
Character Name: The Drifter
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three!
Offering(s): All here!
no subject
Character Name: the Knight
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three
Offering(s): here!
no subject
Character Name: Ardyn Izunia
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: three
Offering(s): here!
no subject
Character Name: damianos
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: 3
Offering(s): boop
no subject
Character Name: Keith Kogane
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three!
Offering(s): All here.
no subject
Character Name: Gladiolus Amicitia
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: 3
Offering(s): Now that I'm done crying I can link this
no subject
Character Name: Laurent
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: 2
Offering(s): yikes
no subject
Character Name: Tim Wright
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three!
Offering(s): All here!
no subject
Character Name: The Guardian
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Two
Offering(s): Here.
no subject
Character Name: Troupe Master Grimm
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Two
Offering(s): Here.
no subject
Character Name: Legion
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: 2
Offering(s): Here
no subject
Character Name: Agent Washington
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three
Offering(s): if you were church
no subject
Character Name: Ignis Scientia
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: Three
Offering(s): Here
no subject
Character Name: connor murphy
Character Journal:
Number of Memories: 3
Offering(s): apparently i was so annoyed after finishing these i forgot to submit them
(no subject)
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Re: OOC || FORM
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IC || MEMORY SHARE
the drifter | ota
a ; the sentinels will find me and switch me off this time
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b ; i was ever chasing fireflies
c ; every calling cost made to your heart
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the Knight | OTA
i. birth
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ii. life
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iii. death
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Extremely late backtag, because I didn't want to miss this opportunity for Pain.
Troupe Master Grimm | OTA
Shadow and Fire
Nightmares
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Ardyn Izunia | ota | ffxv spoilers
I. in this twilight how dare you speak of grace
II. and for every king that died they would crown another
III. omnis lacrima
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Prompto | OTA
A: Episode Prompto/Chapter 13 spoilers
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Legion | OTA
A: Destroy ending
B: Sometimes the Geth are fucking dicks
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Gladiolus Amicitia | OTA
I came by today to see you....
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For the heirs to come, be brave
I'm strong on the surface Not all the way through
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damianos | ota | but seriously read the warnings
α ❧ all that i've compromised
[not here]
[here now, OTA]
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β ❧ i've got to keep it down tonight
γ ❧ i was a king under your control
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tim wright | ota
i. sat indoors feeling alone and full of decay
ii. adding up all the pain left in your brain
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iii. it's just another black day
TWO, TWO RESPONSES, AH AH AH.
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Jules Dagger Samari - Open (read warnings first)
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The Guardian | OTA
One Small Kindness
Jugement
ann takamaki | ota
A: the awakening
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agent washington | ota
i. in my dreams i meet the ghosts of all the people who've come and gone
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ii. i was staring at the barrel of a gun
iii. memories they seem to show up so quick
Ignis Scientia | OTA
Lost in the darkness, hoping for a sign
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Instead there is only silence. Can't you hear my screams?
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Lost in the darkness, try to find your way home
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connor murphy | ota
i. the newsreel is rolling, words are at an all time cheap
ii. the more they are talking, the less it means to me
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of course it was going to be this one
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iii. a terrifying feeling creeping in without a sound
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Asgore | ota
i: an ending
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ii: the heroine appears
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iii: it's the end
Shion | No.6
i: I killed for you
ii: I died for you
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iii: But Still...
Chara | OTA
i. And I thought maybe we could SAVE ourselves
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ii. but they shot us down
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Héctor | OTA
sleep with the angels
be sure thy sins
cw: allusions of alzheimer's
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kravitz | ota
i. you're asking why it's so dark tonight / i don't know why
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ii. all your words and closeness / keep you here and human / whispering tonight
iii. would you ever stop and listen? would you open up your eyes?
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CT | OTA
something borrowed, something blue
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beau | ota
i. they beat the bitter of war / where nobody won / we were just casualties
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ii. but if i let it out / vibrations in the throat can convey more than just sound
Mollymauk | OTA
the start of a wonderful friendship and lies
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hupperdook r&r
nott the brave ( ota )
i. and the weak need to be led
ii. and the tender i'll carry to their bed
iii. and it's a pale and cold affair
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Guzma | OTA
i.
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ii.
Chip Abaroa | OTA
Something Something Gen Z
Fateful Meetings (cw: eye gore)
Ginko | OTA
a
Erika Fisher | OTA
a - cw for brief body horror
Edward Elric | OTA
Booze and Brawls
Rei Ayanami | OTA
AUDIO ONLY
CHILDREN'S SESSION IN PROGRESS
Keith Kogane | OTA
Garfle Warfle what the hell [S7 spoilers]
Keith slides into view his feet and legs wrapped in glowing shackles. His last drawing is still up on the board. He sighs as he's turned to face the podium in front of him. Lance protests about the time and he ignores him. He doesn't want to trapped here for all eternity with Lance.
Bob, the green alien gestures widely to the other side of the room while the downtrodden Paladins of Voltron look on. "Looks like our other team is gonna have an opportunity to steal." Keith keeps staring to the side. Someone else can say something. "What other team?" Hunk asks like he'd thought he would.
Ridiculous music plays as the violet symbol of the Galra empire flares to life on the blank display behind the podiums on the other side of the room. Flat displays of four people rise up and become real. Zarkon a tall imposing figure of a Galra in red armor, his witch Haggar clad in her familiar black robes, their son Lotor with his arms crossed over his chest, and some twerp Keith doesn't know. He's more than ready to fight all of them as Lance leans over the podium and utters a shocked. "Zarkon? No way!" Hunk scrubs at his eyes. "This can't be happening."
Keith doesn't have to glance over at his team to know they're all in various states of shock. They're shackled and unable to fight back if Zarkon closes the distance between them. He clenches his fist. He'll give him a fight with what he has.
Bob drifts over to the newly revealed team. "Hello there." Zarkon almost sounds cheerful. What the fuck. "Hello Bob."]
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Resumed Duel [Spoilers for s7]
[All the season s7 spoilers I guess.] They will come from anywhere.
laurent | ota
[Throughout it all, Laurent is unusually distracted- he doesn’t even seem to register when Damen flickers to life at the center of the campfire, and stares into space throughout the Soulgemmed March Disaster. Maybe he’s tired, but it’s likelier that the past week hasn’t been kind to him. Maybe someone should. Let him know about this?]
i. will there be nothing left
How stupid can you get?
Surely you could not have been stupid enough to think salvation awaited at the end of the road. Surely, you could not have thought you could wrest Miki Morikawa and Hoshiko Ohka unharmed from this place.
You will make one final choice. You will call the elevator up. Towards a shot at finding the one whom you hate so dearly and tearing them asunder with your own hands.
However. You will sentence the two of them to their deaths.
[Beyond the screen, the entrance of an elevator becomes visible. The three pull out their communication devices- on closer inspection, these are handheld mirrors- and several voices come through in a panicked chorus. ]
Don’t do it, Jackass! - You cannot stop here, you need to finish this!!- [the astute could pick out Laurent’s voice, but it’s easily lost among the others:]Abstaining.-
-Grow a pair and go. Otherwise, you've wasted all of our time twice.
[The three magi- bicker. They fight, and Pokey attempts to leave the other two but is physically hauled back by Mettaton. Even the small Asriel tries to fluff himself up and snarl- but there is a moment where a look passes between them, and Pokey mouths something to the other two, and you come to the realisation that they’ve come to an agreement. This fight is just for show, to stall the watcher until Mettaton rushes the elevator with Pokey and Asriel in tow, hoping to take their enemy by surprise.
Surprise kind of doesn’t work with elevators, though. It jams mid-descent, plunging its occupants into darkness, and the scene switches to a well-lit room crowded with magi. From every mirror in the room there is a furious scream.]
All you had to do was follow the rules! I gave you a chance to follow orders and save one of them, but look what you've gone and done!!
But a choice is a choice. If you thought abstaining from the vote would save them... If you thought you could rescue them...You're all more naive than I thought! There were precisely six votes for Miki Morikawa and three votes for Hoshiko Ohka. That makes Miki Morikawa the declared survivor... However, since you disobeyed the terms of our agreement, I'm afraid that there are no survivors. I will conduct the experiment on both girls.
[The room dissolves into chaos. Asriel’s voice issues from one of the mirrors, thin and despairing: We thought... we thought we had a chance-
Why did you go?
What did you do.
Hatsu-san told us to /stop/, there was no chance to take after that!]
What happens when you introduce a false grief seed to a magical host body? I wonder, I wonder... Let's find out together, shall we?
[A girl stands before two of her prisoners, holding up a misshapen gemstone to a mirror. The two bound girls are strapped to operation tables, struggling against their restrains. The girl with the gem steps beside one of her prisoners and sweeps their fringe back, revealing another dull gem set on the prisoner’s forehead. The other captive screams something. Unperturbed, Kagaku Yamashita touches the Grief Seed to her captive’s Soul Gem and pushes it in.]
[At that moment the vision breaks with the sound of shattering glass.It ends with a disturbing, violent outburst of energy- though not corporeal, you might feel as if it could really hurt you. Whatever happens next, you know that something awful and irrevocable has been done. ]
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ii. when tomorrow comes at last
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Newt Geiszler - OTA (warnings for minor blood and mindfuckery via alien hivemind)
i - 'Cause we used to fight like cats and dogs.
Of course he does.
Smug asshole, with his "desperate to be right" and "kaiju grrrroupie" and the way the "r" rolls off Hermann's tongue is incredibly annoying in its sheer Bavarian-ness no matter how much Hermann tries to push the British rhetoric. And Newt snaps back at him, because of course he does, because he can't help it, because it's Hermann.
"It is going to work, Hermann, and I'll tell you something else." Newt sucks in a breath, pointing a finger at Hermann, as if it could get the words through his thick skull. "Fortune favors the brave, dude."
It does; they're not going to get anything done sitting here behind numbers or the "handwriting of God" or whatever dumb thing Hermann called it earlier. He's got to push forward. He has to try something else, or they'll run out of time.
But Hermann only looks at him like he's simple, like he's crazy, like he's ridiculous-"You heard them. They won't give you the equipment and even if they did--" He spins away, pivoting with his cane, and Newt almost itches to throw something after him, "--you'd kill yourself!" Hermann marches back to his side and Newt can feel the exasperation in his bones by now; why does he always look at the worst outcome when he could look at the best one, which is what Newt presents as he spreads his arms, annoyed--
"Or I'd be a rockstar!"
ii - images in my head playing like a tragedy
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Foster van Denend | OTA
Who's This Asshole
His wrists are strapped to a table (a ritual circle under each cuff) and he's laughing.
The well-dressed man remains seated. His hair is actually even curlier than Foster's, but styled back neatly, and black where Foster's is blond. He looks like he hasn't slept an hour in his life. Those aren't bags under his eyes. They're entire baggage claims.
"History?" Foster is drooling. Saliva hangs wet from his chin, a thin, bubble-studded string. Neither of them comment on it. His eyelids drop to half-mast, still bright with mirth. "Why?"
"Family. History." The man crosses his arms.
"Mmmmm."
"I need your family history." He speaks in a very carefully, pointedly enunciated way, but still sounds so dissatisfied with Foster's bullshit that it raises the very real question of why he's trying.
"You said that. But I don't know any more. I can tell you mum was from South Africa. You know about South Africa, right? Haha. Afrikaner. White South African. My dad was the black one. Is? Was? Is. From... Boston. Or is it Chicago? New York? Anyway. That's what I remember. You can unpack that, I'll wait." Foster is upbeat in a way that borders on cheerful.
"Well, that's something, at least. Thank you for finally cooperating. The fact that you don't remember more is actually helpful in itself--more so than nothing, at least." Foster's liveliness (and egotism) seem directly proportionate this man's exhaustion and displeasure--if the energies in the room could be any more opposed, the combined result would probably result in some kind of murder.
"You can generally count on me not to remember things, if it helps."
"Good to know, but I will need to check on a case-to-case basis." He sits back.
Foster laughs again. This time it's obvious--he's laughing at the man, shamelessly.
"I'm not counting on a win. I mean, any outcome is actually possible and they all feel equally likely to me. But in the interest of moving forward, assuming I lose is the most practical, because I don't need to be prepared for any of the others, it's actually sort of impossible from where I'm sitting." The sudden coherence is almost jarring. Is his unhelpfulness intentional, or is reason the unusual condition? Could this be his idea of being helpful?
The man unscrews the top of a thermos and takes a drink from it, like he expects the contents to replenish his sanity. Maybe they do.
"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this. Maybe you could try putting some of that to my questions."
"Probably not." Foster wears a bright smile, as sunny and guileless as indifference can get.
The man leans forward, expression hardening. It is possible to look both resolute and tired, as it turns out. "Here's the thing. I cannot guarantee if we're going to win or lose. But, if you hadn't realized, it's my job to do this was well as I can, and I don't need you getting in the way of that because of some fatalistic bullshit."
"I'm not trying to cause a loss. Believe me, you'd know if I would." Ha ha.
"Yeah, here's the thing. Laughing at all my questions instead of answering them counts as getting in the way."
"It's not really my fault if you're asking futile questions.... or absurd ones." He's briefly distracted from humour.
"I'm not sure you quite understand your situation. It is not your right to decide which of my questions are 'absurd'; your job here is to answer them to the best of your ability."
Foster only raises his eyebrows.
"Who here knows how to navigate a courtroom. Who here knows what information may come up. It's not you. The jury doesn't give a shit whether you consider yourself human or not. And guess what, I can't predict what you're going to think is a pointless thing to ask you."
Foster contemplates that, his eyelids at half mast again. A helpful smile. "Have you tried?"
"Frankly, no, and I don't intend to. I'll go through my questions, and you'll answer them to the best of your ability. And if you can't answer, fucking say so." He drinks from his thermos again--more like takes a swig from it, really.
"Hmmmm." Foster's gaze wanders.
At that, the man stands, placing his hands flat on the table to lean directly into Foster's face. "You answer my questions. Or you tell me if you cannot. That's how this is going to work."
Foster's look becomes... neutral. He makes eye contact, but this time, he does not smile. He is, just briefly, focused on the man in front of him.
Look, It's Ginko! Sort of....?