divus | 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."

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Change your hairstyle.

[He frowns, but not because he's opposed to the dare, just, like,]

...How? There's not a lot you can do with this.

[He runs his hands through his hair to muss it up a little, like now the sort-of part is on the other side, but ??? it's just doing what it do.]

Wait, here.

[He mushes it together into a fauxhawk. There. It vaguely stays.]

Now I can look super cool while dodging Chuuya's potshots.

[She lets out a breath that sounds something like a laugh.]

That will do, though I would have provided more instruction if you needed it.

And I'm sure Patience would provide protection from Chuuya's wrath.

Maybe she can help with that, but even she couldn't make him look cool.

... I'll admit that I'm not sure what our standard for "cool" is at this point.

[There are so many of them with so many different hairstyles and their only arbiter is... uh. Patience? Chuuya being Chuuya??]

I'm sure Patience would do her best.

[Is this a love triangle.]

[it's a harem]

Good luck to her. If she's happy then I'm happy.

Edited 2019-03-26 05:29 (UTC)

[That's oddly cute??]

... Patience may be the most skilled of all the gods.

[The secret is thirst.]

She sure is. Could've won this whole competition if she wanted to.

She certainly had the influence for it, if our information was to be believed.

[She is totally fine with Patience taking over the world, apparently.]

It's too bad, I wouldn't have minded her coming out on top.

[better her than, idk, disorder]

[Well, we know that Patience tops. And Chuuya holds grudges for 3,000 years.]

And if she is not as neutral as we believed?

[It isn't accusatory, or particularly negative, but rather intrigued and searching for possibilities. There are so many possibilities, despite their location, somehow.]

[I mean? both of those are obvious?]

Then I'd be pissed because she lied to me.

But I trust her.

[As foolish as that might be.]

There are certainly different ways of trusting people.

[She probably shouldn't talk, considering the bridges she's burned and the things she's turned her back on. But here she is. Still here, god only knows why.]

I'm not surprised yours and mine aren't the same.

[shock. gasp.]

(no subject)

artificialhighness - 2019-03-27 05:44 (UTC) - Expand

goatsongs - 2019-03-27 20:59 (UTC) - Expand

artificialhighness - 2019-03-27 21:17 (UTC) - Expand

goatsongs - 2019-03-29 05:53 (UTC) - Expand

Because I care so much about your opinion. Patience already thinks I'm plenty cool, for the record.

Long as you're making her happy, that's the important thing.

[Chuuya may think Newt is garbage, but Patience can kiss garbage if she wants to.]

Oh, don't you worry about that. I am.

[He winks.]

Great, keep doing that.

[And Chuuya turns his attention to other people, for once not rising to the obvious bait.

It's like he actually wants Patience to be happy or something?]

Hah, you wanna be my stylist? Go for it.

[But he rolls his eyes re: Chuuya.]

He's tiny. I can take him.

I think changing your hair color may help with the novelty.

[She flashes him another brief smile.]

I've no doubt. But as we must all deal with each other for a little longer, it may be easiest to find other solutions.

["Other solutions" is flexible, of course.]

You wanna team up again? It'd be just like old times.

Have we not been a team since we arrived here, Newt?

[She did already offer to be a shield, so to speak.]

Hah, that's true, that's true. My bad. With all the warm welcomes I've gotten, it's hard to remember I've got someone on my side.

No matter the attitudes, none of us may go anywhere, and there is little we can do to each other that would have any purpose.

[That, and most of the really impulsive people aren't here. She gives him a half-smile.]

Give it time.

[Time is all they have, after all.]

It might not have lasting effects, but getting punched repeatedly still fucking hurts.

[He's BITTER.]

Truth or dare?