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- !event,
- akashi kaoru,
- akihiko sanada,
- akira kurusu,
- arsene lupin,
- balthazar,
- cairngorm,
- caramia,
- charlotte,
- crow,
- dave strider,
- dextera,
- eijirou kirishima,
- ekko,
- elizabeth,
- emma,
- estelle bright,
- goro akechi,
- gran,
- guren ichinose,
- henry,
- ignis scientia,
- izuku midoriya,
- john egbert,
- joshua bright,
- kei nanjo,
- keith,
- kenny mccormick,
- kyle broflovski,
- kyrie,
- maribelle,
- minato arisato,
- misaki yata,
- mitsuru kirijo,
- momo yaoyorozu,
- momosuke yamaoka,
- morag ladair,
- nagito komaeda,
- namine,
- noctis lucis caelum,
- nyx ulric,
- ochako uraraka,
- okuyasu nijimura,
- ouni,
- rex,
- riku nanase,
- rin okumura,
- ryo asuka,
- ryoji mochizuki,
- saruhiko fushimi,
- shiho sannomiya,
- shouto todoroki,
- tenya iida,
- terezi pyrope,
- terra,
- terra branford,
- tonbokiri,
- vriska serket,
- yusuke kitagawa,
- yuuya sakazaki
Intro Log.
 | |
Pussy's in the well. Who put her in? Little Johnny Thin. Who pulled her out? Little Tommy Stout. What a naughty boy was that, To try to drown poor pussy cat, Who never did him any harm, But killed all the mice in the farmer's barn. | |
Welcome to Awash's first intro log, everyone! Please review the FAQ and rules before playing. Characters have all woken at the bottom of the well in the middle of the town (which seems a lot bigger on the inside, somehow), and it looks like they'll have to put in some work to get out. | |
ou wake in knee-deep water, cold as ice and stagnant, in a space that is far too echoey and spacious. It feels like a massive cave, but looking up... there's only one small, circular opening that shows grey sky and shines any sort of light.
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It's for that reason that when she finds herself suddenly attacked, her new friend is quick in hand to parry.
Maybe his blade didn't hit her, and maybe he is talking now, but it feels natural to fight. And with so little else to work with, what instincts provide is all she's got. He apologizes, but the girl keeps her own sword up, stance battle-ready. ]
Who are you?
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...Keith.
[Is the most obvious and least helpful answer, so the one he goes with, of course. He watches from behind his mask before adding,] Who are you?
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Discomfort pulls a knot between her brows and a frown at her cheeks, but for all her uneasiness, Keith isn't attacking. Her sword lowers, slow and slight — the universal sign for I'll put down mine if you put down yours. ]
I don't know. ... I can't remember anything.
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[He echoes helpfully. That's weird right? Keith lowers his sword as well, just as happy not to wind up in combat if it can be avoided at the moment when he knows next to nothing about where he is or what's going on. Half a moment of hesitation and he reaches his nonsword hand up to touch at the side of his mask, disengaging it and letting it fade out into nothing, revealing his very human looking face.]
Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?
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The flicker as the mask disappears brings her gaze back up to his face, but—just like all the others—he's a stranger to her. With a sigh, she shrugs her shoulders, shaking her head. ]
I can't remember anything before waking up in the well... the more I try to think about it, the more my head hurts. But... It doesn't feel like a blow. [ She knows she would know what a physical injury should feel like, or at least she thinks she does, but this seems different. ] I don't know how to explain it.
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[That's it. That's his best job at optimism.]
My friend lost a whole year of memories before. I think a lot of it eventually came back. [He'll just leave out the part about PTSD and flashbacks. Optimism!]
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[ Even if comfort is not softly given, it helps. Knowing that it happens to other people... that there could be a cause, it gives shape to a fog that otherwise overwhelms her. ]
I want to know what happened to me... even if it's bad.
[ The PTSD flashbacks will come in time. But until then: ]
What about this place? Do you recognize it?
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[All the wondering. The worst case scenarios. But Keith turns his attention to her other question.
A shake of his head and he looks around once more as if desperately hoping to see some sign of something familiar, or some reason that he's here.]
No. Not at all. And considering the last thing I remember was being in a space ship and not on a planet, I can't even begin to figure out how the heck I got here.
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[ The girl finally takes the moment to properly put her sword away — the area around them is quiet, and he doesn't mean any harm to her. Even if she can't remember, they're all here the same way... ]
... And what's a space ship?
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[Oh right. Swords. Keith takes his cue from her and immediately there's a flare of light around his sword as it transforms itself back into a small dagger, which he tucks away into its sheath behind his back.
She's not the first person to be confused by the whole space ship thing.]
It's like a ship... but for space. [But he's still not great at clarifying.] Outerspace. Traveling among the stars from planet to planet? That sort of thing.
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That's impossible. [ Incredulous, but not accusative. ] How could anything be that powerful?
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[A shrug of his shoulders.] Lots of other civilizations are so advanced they make humans look like amateurs though.
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[ This is blowing her mind — it seems so far beyond what reality should be able to hold. In that surprise, though, she can feel something else, but she doesn't know what. It makes her uneasy. ]
Like... what? What else is there?
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[Yes? Maybe? ...it's probably not nice to spring all this on a woman with amnesia, yet here he is. Not stopping. Just...]
There's a lot. Interdimensional travel -- that one's a mistake, by the way. Wormholes that can take you from one part of the galaxy to the other side in the blink of an eye. [A pause and he adds, frowning.] And war. That's been going on for ten thousand years. Entire planetary systems conquered and destroyed or enslaved. And that's why I have to get back.
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No longer holding her sword, her hand absently plays with the pendant hanging at her neck. It isn't a comfort, and it does nothing for the pain plaguing her mind, or the anxiety she feels. ]
That's so long... how can a war last so long?
[ She's starting to look a little pale. ]
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[But Voltron, the Blade of Marmora, the growing coalition if resistance fighters... They're all finally fighting back, fighting together.
He watches her hand toy with the necklace, not sure if he's making her uncomfortable with the fairly serious topic.]
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[ She pivots slightly, turning to lean against the decrepit house. In the brief silence, she doesn't look at Keith — it's much easier for him to watch her, and notice the details.
The pendant she plays with looks old, more than anything — a hewn gemstone, gold metalwork, but neither seemingly bent into any meaningful shape. The gold clips in her hair, by comparison, are much more deliberate in craftsmanship.
In her pallor, if he looks closely, there seems to be faint marks against her forehead: a slight redness, band-like, as if something small and rigid had been pressed there too firmly for too long. At her temple — and with a twin, at the other — the indent is taller, deeper, with a redness that belies scabbing over an incision.
Weird.
The girl exhales a sigh, shaking her head. ]
Power and conquest... [ With another shake, she turns again to look at Keith, still curious. ] Where are you in the war?
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Instead he goes with,]
You okay?
[But oh. The question.] Fighting to stop the Galra Empire, free the places under their control, stop them from enslaving anymore. ...more specifically, last I remember, I wad mid-battle.
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But he asked her a question, too. ]
I don't know. Something about it feels familiar... but the more I try to figure it out, the harder it gets.
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But mostly scrappy teenagers.]
Something about what I'm talking about? Maybe you've experienced something similar then. If there's something blocking your memories, it might be getting in the way the more you try. But... it means the memories are still there, probably.
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Something... blocking my memories?
[ She frowns, turning her head — glancing towards the well, at the center of town. (Hey, at least she has a strong sense of direction.) ]
The others kept saying it might have been an injury...
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[It's not untrue; he has his paranoid moments, distrustful more often than he trusts.]
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Your friend... what did he do to get his memory back?
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[Or gives him terrible flashbacks to the trauma. ...and now Keith is worrying about Shiro because he's really good at worrying about Shiro. Oh well.]
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[ That's not a lot to work with, but that's still more than nothing. The challenge comes with figuring out what familiar situations might be.
It's a concrete direction. That's what she needs right now.
With a nod, she straightens, giving another glance around. ]
None of this is familiar. But it's not familiar to anybody, right? Nobody knows how we got here or where we are.
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