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]

And? Neither of us are wishing for an end to war or poverty or all the things we could wish for that would benefit the whole world. We're both selfish, and that's alright.

cw brief zombie body horror gag

[in_a_bottle]

[She sniffs and rubs her eyes. One ends up pointed in the wrong direction and she has to shut it again and nudge the eyeball back into place.]

I guess you're right. I can't think of many people who would wish for something for the whole world. Maybe Madoka-chan.

[goatsongs]

[not the worst body horror he's seen tbh]

Maybe Sieg, and that'd be more because he doesn't care about himself than anything else. I'd yell at him to love himself more.

[in_a_bottle]

I worry about that guy, too. Though I'm glad he has such a firm resolve.

[goatsongs]

I don't know what I was expecting from this competition, but it wasn't half the competitors bringing out Fussy Parent Chuuya.

[in_a_bottle]

I'd rather have that than some people.

[goatsongs]

...You don't mind?

[If he fusses at her like a parent. It's hard to talk about feelings, but not minding him worrying about her is a start.]

[in_a_bottle]

I didn't see a lot of my own parents for a few years before I died. It was mostly just work, work, work. You have to be fully devoted if you want to make it in this business.

So... you know, I don't think I do mind.

[goatsongs]

[There's no reason that Chuuya should be tearing up when he hugs Ai again. No reason at all.

Maybe if he doesn't acknowledge it, Ai won't bring it up either.]

[in_a_bottle]

[Ai takes a sharp, surprised breath. She looks around, shuts her eyes, and hugs him again.]

What do we do now?

[goatsongs]

We wait. We send messages to the living - we just got that offering bowl in the back, I don't know if it works yet but I've sent nine letters today.

[And he was working on more, but. Well, Ai won't need hers.]

We take care of ourselves as best we can.

[in_a_bottle]

We didn't get anything, but maybe it takes a while. Or maybe they'll all just arrive now.

[goatsongs]

When I say 'just got it' I mean 'today', so. You wouldn't have gotten anything.

[in_a_bottle]

So if someone kills next week, then we'll know, I guess.

[goatsongs]

Or if they send replies... which we also get at the start of the wek, so.

[in_a_bottle]

You've got a whole system going.

[goatsongs]

Patience brings some letters sometimes. And the French toast Sieg made me.

[It was delicious.]

[in_a_bottle]

He made you something?

[goatsongs]

It was delicious. And Madoka drew me a picture.

[in_a_bottle]

Madoka-chan's gone through so much... Luna-san spreading those rumours all too happily, curse or not, and that first week, someone with Equivalent Exchange carved a happy face into her hand and --

-- that piece of garbage, that was him too, wasn't it?

[goatsongs]

Must've been.

[...hm.]

Luna's been trying to eliminate the gods. I don't think she gave you reason to be suspicious of Ruin for no reason. If Newt said he was doing a favor to someone else to kill you...

[It probably wasn't Ruin.]

[in_a_bottle]

...I knew she was way too happy for that to just be a curse. Why? Why any of this?

[goatsongs]

I don't know.

[Luna has her reasons, but while Chuuya can appreciate eliminating the gods, he can't accept any strategy that involves hurting Ai.]

[in_a_bottle]

If I hear anything even close to "who cares, it's not real..."

[goatsongs]

I'm not going to say that. Nobody knows as well as I do that dying leaves marks even if you're still around.

[In Ai's case, they're physical. But in Chuuya's case, in Dazai's case, in Takiji's case, in Oda's case, in-]

It matters.