THE GRAVEYARD

[divus]

THE LANDING

You’re having an out of body experience. That’s how it starts, dying. There isn’t any pain anymore, and for a moment, not much of anything else. Your thoughts are a dim hum in the back of your brain, the tips of your fingers seem miles away. Despite that, you find yourself moving, moving, moving from the last place you were in your own body and forward, until you reach a door that you haven’t seen since the beginning of the game. A door that wouldn’t open. A door cold to the touch and seeping with mist. It opens before you, and as if of someone else’s design you walk through it. As it closes behind you, you get the distinct feeling that if you turned around, you’d find it vanished.

What takes up most of your attention, however, is the tolling of church bells. They clang in rhythmic, almost maddening persistence--seems you’re just going to have to try and ignore them, as they show no signs of slowing or stopping, wherever they are.

Once the cacophony becomes easier to manage, the bong, bong, bonging evening out to a pulse inside your ears, you realize that where you are seems to be a world that's incomplete. The floor is nothing but a landing of invisible matter, a spooled red carpet leading you to a few rows of pews and a lone confessional.

You will notice, immediately ahead of you, a cute little mailbox fit for a suburban home. It bids you welcome, though the cheery paint job is a bit muted in this dark place.

Simple and neat furnishings dot the edges of where the landing seems to be: railings mark the unseen edges and draperies and sconces float in the void, giving an illusion of walls. Be careful, however, because they can easily be fallen through if leaned against. Fortunately, someone seems to have kept that in consideration, as a helpful sign warns just this.

On one side of the confessional, a room with bookshelves, a writing table, and pens and paper has been provided: a minimalist study for when you need a bit of privacy to think. On the other side, a wing of dorm-sized, lockable bedrooms provide another bit of space to oneself. There may not be enough for everyone, but nobody really has to sleep--so just take turns!

To the left of the pews, it looks like a miniature bar has been crafted with a small but decent selection of drinks. There's a small television seated on the counter, but it only seems to ever work two times a week: the week's opening announcement on Monday mornings, and Saturdays, tuning in at the beginning of the trial and tuning back out again at its conclusion. There's also a piano to one side of the bar, allowing anyone to provide musical accompaniment to their drinking.

Perhaps most interestingly, an ornate black doorway at the far end of the room leads to a curving hallway that ultimately leads to what appears to be a temple. It's similar to the altar room they'll remember from the living side, but there are no power inscriptions, and the only furnishings are wavering, grayscale candles on the walls that never seem to burn low and great sculptures of leaping rams. The two black-marble statues meet in the center, curved horns joined above a platform, decorated with nothing but a lone offering bowl. The dark marble of the item is cracked, but it seems like it'll still get the job done. Try sending something, if you wish!

Maybe this place is meant to be more. But for now, Patience is the only notable figure you have to place your attention on, and she comes forward to welcome you immediately.

"Welcome to my dominion," she greets in her usual, cheerful candor, and points at your hand, where you hold your godly token. "Now that you've been eliminated, I'll take that back and return it on your behalf. Don't worry, though, I'm not leaving you empty handed."

OOC NOTES

Hello, eliminated competitors, and welcome to the graveyard. Although it isn't much to look at, now, this area will be growing and expanding in time with the help of your characters' actions and participation in weekly events. What they unlock will have an impact on the living side, overarching plot elements, and ways to communicate between both planes!

When it seems like there isn't much to do, there's always one option left: gathering information. So sit back, enjoy the afterlife, and put on your thinking cap!

full navigation.

locations ♦ taken ♦ profiles ♦ weekly curfew ♦ murder proposals
ic rulebook ♦ temple offerings ♦ private convos

Comments

[goatsongs]

He didn't sign the note, but I thought it might be him who made me French toast.

[The smile on Chuuya's face is gentle and fond. The smile that doesn't come up when talking about alcohol, or even poetry, but just about the kids he's called his.]

Madoka and Ray have written me too.

[hymned]

That's good. I'd offered to try to help him with it, but unfortunately I'm not much good with words either, much less any actual cooking.

[ He's more likely to set the stove on fire. Otherwise he ends up accidentally fussing and lecturing even via letter-- don't laugh at him... ]

I can't say I've spoken with either of the other two much, but Madoka's a good girl, I think. And Ray... well, I get the feeling he's resourceful enough to not need too much fussing over.

[ Unlike certain others he'll certainly be doing so for. ]

[goatsongs]

Ray's smart, but he's the least likely one to let people fuss over him when he needs it.

[Even Sieg is more likely to allow people to take care of him.]

[hymned]

Yeah. He's got that sort of independence to him that makes me pretty sure that even if he got it, he wouldn't know what to do with it.

[ It almost sounds as if Julius is speaking from experience, considering the wry shift of his tone, but. ]

But then again, he's really not who I'm most worried about.

[goatsongs]

It's the job of an older brother to look after his younger brothers.

[There's no question whether Chuuya's speaking from experience.]

If any of mine were here I'd have tried to punch a god on the first day for involving them.

[hymned]

[ ... the corner of his mouth quirks just a little at that. ]

One of the only reasons I didn't try was that I knew he wouldn't appreciate it.

[ But he sighs after, deep and exhausted. ]

Honestly, I just hope he doesn't try anything reckless. He's done it before, to try to protect me, but...

[goatsongs]

Do you have other siblings, or is it just you two? I'm the oldest of five. -And the most reckless one, heh.

[That's not a good thing, Chuuya...]

[hymned]

No, it's just the two of us. It's- always, been just the two of us.

[ There's a slight pause, a slight hesitancy there, but... it sounds truthful? ]

I'm afraid it might be my fault he ended up so dependent on me, but then again, looking back... I'm still not sure what I would have done differently, even if that was the case.

[goatsongs]

That's not so bad. Younger siblings should rely on their older brothers, and kids should outlive their parents. That's the way things should be.

[Weird, then, that Chuuya can't look at Julius anymore.]

[hymned]

[ He has enough tact to not really pry, but... ]

You'd think, right.

You might be a little surprised, then, how poorly our family tends to adhere to such sentiments.

[ Julius you were just saying it was only the two of you.

... Maybe he still wasn't lying. ]

[goatsongs]

...You were already dead when you got here, too?

[Since they clearly outlived their parents, and they had no other siblings...]

[hymned]

What? No- no, of course not. Not yet, at least.

[ A small, wry, almost helpless laugh. Hm, maybe he's not quite as okay with dying as he'd made it seem in the first week, when he'd been Strung Red with Itachi. ]

Though I'm not sure whether I would have been able to give you the same answer if the gods here had waited maybe a few weeks or so to make their offer.

[goatsongs]

Don't 'of course not' to the already dead guy.

[He's a transmigrated spirit, but he still remembers dying, more or less.]

Anything you can do about it?

[hymned]

I've been a dead man walking from the moment the signs first showed and the symptoms started creeping in. There was maybe one thing, but it was a long shot even if possible at all. You might not believe me even if I explained it.

[ A slightly apologetic shrug, though. ]

It must be different for you. If I'd- gone, then even if the gods retrieved the same soul then it'd likely be a very different person standing before you now.

[goatsongs]

I've got nothing better to do than listen to your supposedly unbelievable explanation.

[and then tell Julius he's dumb.]

[hymned]

Long story short, reach the land of Canaan, make a wish to solve a problem spanning worlds and dimensions, hope that the side effects of said wish also neutralize what was happening to me.

[ Wow, that's unfair??? What's he being called dumb for now??? ]

[goatsongs]

Canaan, that's - somewhere in the Mediterranean, yeah? Can't be much more than half a day by plane from where I live.

[...well.]

[hymned]

... I think you and I might be from very different worlds, Mr. Nakahara.

Or do the words 'Origin's Trial' hold meaning where you come from as well?

[goatsongs]

Nnno. Wrong Canaan, I guess.

[it was a thought.]

[hymned]

Just possibly.

[ another soft laugh, but it's not unkind. ]

... If it really was that easy, maybe we'd have been spared a lot of trouble over the past years.

[goatsongs]

Sounds like it.

...If you went to another world, would you get better? Or not get worse, I guess.

[hymned]

[ There are so, so many things he could say to that, given how the universe of Xillia functions. Given the nature of what exactly it is eating away at his body and soul.

But in the end all he says is: ]

I doubt running away from it now would accomplish much. It's only a matter of time, really. You could say it's something that runs in the family, but regardless of whatever it roots from, the nature of it is as an inherently degenerative process.

[ A pause, and then, deliberately light and offhand, despite the measured weight of his words: ]

... Besides, where I come from, all worlds besides the Prime are inevitably doomed regardless. It would be only the most fleeting of dreams in the end, especially if Origin's Trial is left unattended to.

To allow oneself to shirk that responsibility... is selfish at best, and callous otherwise.

[goatsongs]

Alright. I was going to say you and your brother could be library aides after this, but I get it.

[Chuuya is not the softest of people, as Dazai would tell you - but he can't just listen to someone say they're going to die and not try to fix it.]

Good luck.

[hymned]

As far as I'm convinced, luck hasn't ever saved any of us, so I'd rather not rely on it.

That said, it'd be rude not to thank you for the sentiment regardless. Here's hoping, right.

[goatsongs]

Here's hoping.

...was that your wish?

[To survive, to clear this Trial thing, whatever.]