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THE GRAVEYARD
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."
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!
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!
WEEK 5, SUNDAY
Someone brought this for everyone to share. Can a big, strong man pleeeaaase help me out?
CHUUYA
:)
no subject
[He'll try not to drink it all at once.]
JULIUS
I didn't know you were such an avid writer. :P
any info on who killed Bart, or the killer we missed this week?
no subject
[ contrary to his tone and words, though, he takes the lasagna and note very carefully. ]
UN-DEAD?
[Jude receives fresh mabo tofu, and a note:]
Jude,
You're one of the most amazing people I know, and an even better friend. I wish I could have protected you, the way you will for me.
- Ludger
[He also receives a stack of blank paper, a pen, and a letter:]
I don't know why I got my letters back on napkins, so take these if you want to write...
Jude-kun, you always protected me. I'm sorry, that I messed up, and I wasn't able to protect you in return. You don't have to worry about Cheri. I'll take your place as his guardian, so that nothing happens to him.
To be honest, I'm a little scared.
But more than that, I'm extra determined to make it to the end. I'm going to try to find a god that, when they win, will be able to grant everyone's wishes - or at least more people than just their followers. I'll see if I can get Cheri to win anyway but....
Please continue to have faith in me. And please let me know if there's anything I can do for you.
- Senri
[Ray receives two entire books on Italy's art and architecture, a stack of blank paper, a pen from the study, and a letter:]
I don't know how much there is to do there, or if these will get to you intact - but I thought I'd give it a shot. You probably read way faster than I do, but hopefully it'll keep you entertained for at least a little while when you're not badgering people.
I got my letters back on napkins, so I sent you paper too. Just in case something happens - this is going to be so annoying - but you should send copies of your letters to me to people you trust too. Fortune made it sound like I'll only get your letters back at the end of the week on Friday.
[this part is scribbled out, but haphazardly.]
I don't know how to do this without you. I tried to do what you would do, but it didn't work. That's why there was the two of us, because you'd know how to use everything we had at our disposal, or come up with plans ahead of time. I don't know how to work like that. It feels stupid, that I didn't plan because I thought you'd always be here.Your code was somehow too hard, still. We found one person, but we missed yours... I'm not completely hopeless, but I'm still not happy. I have to be without you for a week, at least, so I'm going to try to take care of myself until then. If you can tell me anything about what the other side is like, please let me know. If you need anything, let me know.
I'm not giving up.
But I miss you so much.
- Senri
[Zoe receives a homemade strawberry parfait, a stack of blank paper, a pen, and a letter:]
Hopelessly Devoted-ing someone even in the thick of it all - that's the super awesome and strong Zo that I know!
.... sorry, it was way too close with that one. I'm glad that we found out what happened to you, but... It goes without saying that I'd give anything for you to still be here. You know that. I'm sure you do. I still have to find out what happened to Ray-kun but... I'm sorry. I don't know how to stop wanting to say I'm sorry.
I hope there's another guitar over there. Let me know if there isn't, I'll try to find one for you.
I'll see you again soon. At the end, and we'll be able to get over all of this. But... you know I'll miss you until the end too.
no subject
no subject
[She's all but shoving it at him. But, like, in a flirty way, somehow?]
no subject
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He shifts his grip on it a little once he's got a hold of it, readjusting it briefly so it's settled comfortably in his arms. ]
Is there any place in specific you want this? It's occurring to me now that I don't think any of us thought to put in a kitchen or dining area when we were renovating which... may or may not have been an oversight, but.
[ considering that they don't need to eat, but. i mean there's the minibar but. ]