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

TALK TO JULIUS

[hymned]

landing option a;
[ so you know how he said he wouldn't torture newt with bad piano playing.

yeah that was a lie. sort of. in all honesty, he's not actually terrible, just noticeably out of practice, his movements a little awkward and stiff (especially in the left hand, for some reason...) as he runs his ways through basic scales and runs. he's not playing anything complicated or overly involved, to be sure, but...

maybe you might catch him attempting a simple melody or two, but at other times it seems he's just content to idle away there, his thoughts entirely elsewhere. ]

landing option b;
[ julius is hanging out at the edges of the room. and by edges of the room, i quite literally mean, edges of the room. he's picked a spot where there's a bit of the gap in the draperies and railing and is seated on the invisible floor, where his legs go over the edge of an even more invisible apparent cliff to just... dangle in the eternal void, i guess.

he seems vaguely lost in thought (this is a trend, maybe), his weight leaning back against his hands, but is he really. does he just have a death wish. what the fuck, julius, come back from the edge. ]

byob;
[ this is the wild card option. byob in this case stands for bring your own bad decisions. let's go-- ]

B

[goatsongs]

Planning on finding out what happens if you fall into the void?

[That would make Julius' seat make sense! Otherwise it's stupid.]

[hymned]

[ casually: ]

Oh, I already know, so you don't need to worry about that.

[goatsongs]

Apparently it's not bad enough for you to sit somewhere else.

[So that's interesting, he guesses?]

[hymned]

I suggested the warning sign, didn't I?

[ that's not an answer, julius. he sort of does a one armed shrug at the rest of the room, though. ]

Besides, I've never much been a man of faith, anyways.

[goatsongs]

I'm not one either, but churches aren't bad.

[They remind him of his grandparents.]

...So what happens if you fall?

[hymned]

Nothing very permanent, I'm sure you can guess. So unfortunately, I'm pretty sure it's not actually that great an idea for disposing of any undesirables.

[ rip the dream of yeeting newt into the greater great beyond 2k19. could still yeet him though.

he hums a little, distantly. ]

... Elympios wasn't much for faith in general, really. A few of the old traditions might've been kept, but it was Rieze Maxia who really did the spirit worship thing.

[goatsongs]

Too bad, I was thinking I could push Newt off.

[an undesirable.]

My grandparents were believers. This doesn't look that different from their church, except for the whole void thing.

[hymned]

Oh, you still could. Don't let me stop you.

[ even though he's the one closer to the 'ground', it almost feels more like he's perching somehow... ]

I'm going to assume you're including the bells in that, too. ... But your grandparents, huh. I guess if this reminds you of them, I can't really criticize you for it.

[goatsongs]

The bells weren't going constantly at their church because they actually had respect for people's ears.

[This is a low bar, church-wise.]

...But other than that, yeah, it feels pretty similar.

[hymned]

Hm. I owe a lot to my own grandfather, I suppose, even if he has his eccentricities.

[ but, regarding the bells again, ]

Do you think Patience actually likes it this way, or was going for a certain aesthetic?

[goatsongs]

Aesthetic. It fits the robes and the masks and shit.

[Since Julius isn't particularly concerned about falling off, Chuuya sits down beside him, legs hanging over the edge.]

Sincerity's wearing jeans under the robes like a normal person.

[hymned]

Didn't she say she liked the mask theming? I might be wrong. It's been a little while since we all arrived here, after all.

[ wth it's week 5 already. can we go back in time to w1 please. ]

These bells are still a lot more unfortunate than any of the other things the gods here have done for the aesthetic, though. Can't say I ever really saw what might've been under all the pomp and circumstance, so hearing that... actually makes this all seem a little quaint, actually.

a

[in_a_bottle]

[Ai makes a face and walks over, trying her best to ignore the bells.]

Are you new to this?

[hymned]

[ he grins a little sheepishly, but at least he wasn't trying to play anything with actual dynamics? imagine how bad that would sound with the bells. ]

I suppose you could say that? It might be more accurate to say that the memories are too old than too new, though.

[in_a_bottle]

Out of practice, you mean? That's something only a lot of work can fix, but it's not like we have room to do much else in here.

[hymned]

Just about. I haven't really had the time for anything like this since I was a kid, so maybe I should apologize preemptively for the sake of your ears.

There's not much to do here, though, you're right. It was even worse a little while ago when none of this even existed.

[in_a_bottle]

My ears are suffering already. [bells,] I don't know how you manage.

[hymned]

[ in wry deadpan: ] Maybe I've just been here long enough that it's already caused permanent hearing damage.

[in_a_bottle]

Do you think they're trying to torture us for failing them?

[hymned]

... I feel like at least some of them might be a little more... creative, than constantly tolling bells.

[in_a_bottle]

That's true. Though some of them were decent people, others... definitely explained why this always defaulted to murder.

[hymned]

Do you really think they had that much of an influence on the actions of those here? Even Ruin seemed surprisingly passive without people reaching out to her first.

[in_a_bottle]

Everyone here was chosen for a reason. The gods could suggest things, but wouldn't they want people they could sway in the first place?

[hymned]

That's true. But then again, we all received our choice of three when they made the invitation, didn't they?

I suppose by now everyone probably knows who my chosen patron was, given the nature of questions at trial, but despite his reputation, both Piety and Fortune made me their offers as well. What should that say about me, really?