aftr_ooc | A NEW WORLD COMING ( 024 )

A New World Coming

Hello, and welcome to LifeAftr! We're pleased that you're expressing an interest in the game. Here, you can test the waters, gauge how your character may fare in the world of LifeAftr, and even gain some in-game incentives, if you so choose.

In conjunction with our monthly Test Drive Meme, Reserves are now open! Applications will open on June 24th!

Two important notes:

1. LifeAftr's test drives take place on the island of Mu, which is always watching. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not

2. Due to the nature of Mu, threads in our test drive can not only be accepted as thread samples in your application, but are the game. You cannot choose who you are in this world. You cannot change fate. You cannot change fate. You cannot change fate.

In the meantime, feel free to refer to our usual rules regarding the TDM. All prompts are miniature versions of events that have transpired in the past. You may visit any of the links provided if you're interested in additional information.

And It's Just Around The Bend
The whole world is ending.

Beneath you, the first rays of a new sun slink across the ice-coated ground, sending whirls of steam curling up into the air. Everything will eventually be reborn to the way it was, much like the sun itself. At the very edges of the island, shadowy creatures that appear to have crept out of the darkest recesses of your mind mill about on the ocean shores, eager to avoid the burning eyes of the sun.

Of course, that's all happening a very, very long way down. Miles below you, in fact. The ground below is still cast in perpetual dark, while the sky itself is sunlit and dazzling.

As fingers of new light creep out across the horizon and ignite the air with a soft, daylit warmth, you find yourself sky high on one of many floating islands that shift and change within your presence. The landscape of these islands is extremely malleable, and not just in a general sense. Each island you make contact with will begin to "mold" itself to you, attempting to reformat its landscape to appear as a place that you desire to see again. Somewhere important. Somewhere comforting. A memory. While it cannot recreate people or exact circumstances, it can imitate landscapes and buildings, or make the nearest attempt to do so.

"Attempt" being the operative word. With the rapid change of these islands comes one key weakness - their instability. If you stay too long in one place, the island will start to blacken and twist. No matter how hard it strained to recreate your memories before, those familiar places will start to curdle over, crumbling like sand beneath the weight of your desires...and the weight of you. Chunks of the land fall away, blistered black and simmering like fistfuls of embers, burned through with a dark volcanic corruption. The more people standing on one piece of land, the faster this change will occur, leaving you with very little time to enjoy the sights as you race ahead to the nearest mana pool, your only access to the ground below.

In short, you'd better run. Run, while there is still ground beneath your feet.

The world is ending around you - and if you're not fast enough, you'll end alongside it, namely by plunging a long, long way down earth. If the fall doesn't kill you, the hungry, burning eyes of the dark shadows lumped below very well may.

There's A New Voice Calling
The Trial of Orpheus is a very particular practice performed by one group of LifeAftr's inhabitants, residing on the draconian civilization settled on the island of Ai'tuoh. Enacted only upon those who break one of Ai'tuoh's many laws, it requires those convicted to pass into the Standing Water - a slumbering city of lost souls.

A city you've just arrived in.

The first thing you’ll likely feel is the crushing, biting, bone-deep chill, paired with the sensation of falling down some great, fathomless abyss. No jolt or sudden impact awaits you, however. Instead, your fall will slow, even out, as though your personal gravity is reorienting itself, and you’ll find yourself blinking awake in...Ai'tuoh.

Or rather, in a very strange version of it - what can only be described as a dark, colorless mirror of the city of Ai'tuoh. The buildings loom darkly overhead, their edges strangely irresolving, as though being peered at through ripples of water.

If there is a way out, you don't know it. The means and direction are lost to you. But leave you must, for the longer you remain, the more tired you become. Thoughts begin to drift as you become lost to the ebbing waves of time; the longer you remain untethered, the more likely you are to succumb to an endless repose.

Your only hope is the connections you make with others. Be it emotional or physical, positive or negative, this journey requires you to remain part of a pair, talking, hand-holding, even carrying each other through the city as you seek out the means to escape. The pervading sense of exhaustion that grips your bones almost seems core to the city itself, and the longer you remain, the more that lethargy will sink into you. There will be nothing more tempting than simply lying down and closing your eyes...but you have to keep moving. Do you understand? You have to keep moving, because if you don't, there really won't be any saving you.

The most definitive way out is a bright strand of color that winds through the abyss, vibrant red and almost threadlike, gradually ascending upward into a glimmer of light. Find someone to connect to, hold onto that guiding thread tightly, and whatever you do, do not let go.

Or you risk sinking into that endless slumber, possibly for good.

You Can Hear It If You Try
Of course, if you'd prefer to relax within your dreams, the white-picketed community of Ziziphus may be precisely what you're looking for. An idyllic town located on a fairly remote island of LifeAftr, Ziziphus comes with all your modern amenities - electricity, cars, showers. Here, you can spend your evenings watching the television, tucking in your kids or playing drinking games with your roommates. And in the morning, it's time to meet the day, whether work, study, or housework awaits you. Why, it's the perfect picture of textbook suburbia, from the neat squares of well-manicured lawns to the incontrovertibly cheerful sound of the newspaper thwacking against the doorstep each morning.

Sorry - you've never had this job before? You don't have kids, or even want them? Of course you have, silly - you've been here for the last five years. You've gone to the same school since you became old enough to study. In fact...you've been living here your whole life.

Is that wrong? Of course it isn't. There's nothing wrong here. There's nothing wrong here. There's nothing wrong here.

Right?

Ziziphus is no peaceful neighborhood, of course, but rather an island that traps its visitors in a dream that seeks to provide a constant state of euphoria. Hence, your tragic past is no more. You are no warrior, no hero. It's time for you to take up the role that suits the most ideal fantasy you have of a fulfilling life. A successful businessperson, a busy student, a completely normal individual in a completely normal life. There's nothing wrong here.

If you think too hard about this eerily cheerful life, about how you technically shouldn't even know what "electricity" is, or about any of the inconsistencies that run counter to the life you thought you had...well, don't think too hard about it. Don't think about the creeping scent of rot that swarms up into your nostrils should those awful thoughts ever cross your mind. Don't start asking questions, posing innocent queries to the perfect smiles perpetually stamped across the faces of your friends and neighbors and children who carry out their daily routines with all the soulless efficiency of wind-up toys. Don't start thinking about how, if you dwell too much on the uncanny nature of this neighborhood, it starts to feel like you can't...quite...breathe...

Oh, god. You have to get out of here. You - you have to not think about it. You have to not think about it, so don't. So don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Everything, and everyone, is precisely as they should be.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Angel. The word rings in Aziraphale's head as he steps back into the church, the distant sound of it drawing his gaze to the large stained-glass window behind the altar. There, shining in the sun, is a white-haired angel, brandishing a sword.

He's always loved the way it looks in the mornings: It projects a rainbow of color out across the whole of the place, warm and happy and inviting.

Angel. What a thing to be called.

Stupid angel.]

Excuse...?

[He hears that voice again. It's Crowley. Crowley-the-demon, calling him, Aziraphale-the-angel, stupid. This happens more often than Aziraphale would like. It's accurate more often than Aziraphale would like.

A thunderclap crashes down on him, followed by the distinct, sharp sound of glass cracking in a thousand places.

He wakes up in the middle of throwing his arms over his head to protect himself and, in the process, smacks Crowley in the face.]

Oh — !

Ow. Watch it.

[It doesn't really hurt, the protest is automatic, as Crowley disappears the knife back to wherever it came from, safe in the knowledge that he doesn't need it anymore.

Because Aziraphale is okay, it's fine, and he has all this nervous energy that he's not sure what to do with now. So he just sort of kneels there, wondering what the fuck is going to happen next.]

Tell me you've got some kind of idea about what on Earth that was about?

[Aziraphale blinks at Crowley, drowsy and stunned, looking for all the world like a child who's been woken up on a school day.

He examines the vines. Peers at their surroundings. Feels the dirt under his hands.

And he goes deadpan.]

Nothing's ever been more self-explanatory, my dear.

[Mildly:]

I should've left you to rot.

[He doesn't mean that, but he's feeling anxious and the best way to handle that particular emotion is by being petty as all get out.]

Don't be rude.

[Here's the thing: Aziraphale feels drained. Literally. Probably because he literally was. He lifts an arm to look more closely at the now-dead vine dangling from it, hovers his free hand over the thing to see if he can sense any strange magic dissipating into the air.]

Were we... [Finding nothing, he shakes the vine away and begins dusting himself off.] Sharing a dream?

I'm a demon, I'm meant to be rude.

[This is an old, tired argument, but it's a comforting one in a way. Like a well-worn coat. As long as they're arguing, it means they're both fine.

Talking about sharing a dream is less fine. Crowley makes a face, shrugs.]

Seems like it, just don't go blaming me for the fact you were wearing jeans.

[That's not on him, he won't take the fall for that.]

[That brings a little half-smile to Aziraphale's face, which lasts only as long as it takes Crowley to mention the jeans.

Aziraphale doesn't understand, either.]

Humans like jeans.

Humans are weird.

[He's worn jeans before, but he's significantly less fussy about his appearance than Aziraphale. Or... he's fussy in a different way, since they both have their own quirks when it comes to dressing themselves.]

We should get out of here before these things have a second go at us.

...yes.

[To both of those. Honestly, Aziraphale can't believe he's still sitting in the dirt. He's clean before he's even fully on his feet, dusting his coat down once more for good measure.

Then, he offers Crowley a hand.

Crowley, who is also, suddenly, very tidy-looking.]

[While he appreciates the removal of any and all dirt and plant matter, Crowley does kind of wish Aziraphale wouldn't make him look tidy. A lot of effort goes into not looking tidy.

Still, he accepts the hand up, hauling himself to his feet.]

Whatever this place is, angel, it won't let me move around the way I want to. We'll have to walk.

[The way he wants meaning by telling the laws of physics to go fuck themselves, but that's neither here nor there.]

How long have you been here? I couldn't find you earlier.

[The question gives Aziraphale pause, bringing a thoughtful silence around them as they begin their walk.]

Well... funny thing is, I'm not sure. Not long, I don't think.

[But long enough to have missed Crowley.

(So it still could've been no time at all, really.)]

For me, the more pressing question is where is "here"?

Same for me, on both counts.

[But oh, this is actually kind of delightful. He has a slight upper hand here, what with the fact he has more intel than Aziraphale does, which is always a good way for things to be.

Maybe because Crowley is the one who's less inclined to lie and hide things. Not that he's bitter about the Adam thing. Probably.]

Apparently it's called Mu and there's a bunch of wankers parading about as gods. Figure it'll be a piece of cake to handle it once we find them.

[Especially now the two of them are here, they can probably take some false gods.]

"Moo"?

[That's what Aziraphale heard: Moo. Like the sound cows make. Which is puzzling enough on its own, except then —

False gods? He has so many questions. So many.]

...oh. Not m-o-o, likely.

[big shruggie]

I found some human kid who knew a bit about it all, that's what he said it was called. They're islands, something like that.

They either are islands or they're not, Crowley. It's not as though the definition of "island" is up to interpretation.

[Is he just being a smartass now? Maybe.]

I dunno, when I got here it was on these crumbling bits of earth way up in the air, would you call that islands?

[There it is, there's the tension in his jaw that gives away part of why he's so cranky.

He's rattled.]

I...

[Technically speaking, yes.

Yes, he would call those islands.]

Hm. Alright, well, it shouldn't be too difficult to find these so-called "gods."

[He's expecting the typical setup: Large statues, beautiful temples, some level of bedazzlement. A throne. He starts muttering to himself.]

Moo. Mu? Like the Greek letter...?

[Crowley makes a face at Aziraphale, although it's hard to tell exactly what for. He's just being fussy.]

That could be it, didn't that one come from something Egyptian?

[All six thousand years of human history is a lot to remember, okay.]

Very good.

[That earns Crowley a grin.]

Remember what it was the symbol for?

A NEW WORLD COMING ( 024 )

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