Event Eleven.

[awashmods]

"Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing To remember for years -- To remember with tears!"

he day is normal. It's a bit chillier than it's been, the nip of fall in the air, but as the new people in the Town settle in... things have gotten peaceful. And yet. When everyone goes out to greet their neighbors, to hug their friends, to shake hands or make eye contact or who knows what -- they'll realize very, very quickly that nothing about today is normal at all, actually. Hopefully nobody minds a little extra sharing today. Welcome to Awash's eleventh event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to start your own posts or logs for this event as well. If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!

Comments

[promissum]

Hm... what a strange form of torture.

[Would he turn around if Fenrich was asking? Artina? Emizel? Probably. He could hold out longer for some of them than others, but the temptation... Unless he'd made a promise.]

What was the result of that?

[troubadamsel]

I heard the voice of my best friend, screaming for help... that's when I turned. In that moment, I was able to see everyone else again - but not who I wanted to see. It was just a harsh reminder of how little control we have. Many failed that test... we lost so much color as a result. It was a huge step-back.

As great as my grief was... it was nothing compared to the others. The Blues weren't allowed to eat, they nearly starved to death.

[promissum]

So this town was trying to test your resolve. Being reminded of your closest comrades, hearing them call for your help...

That's still difficult. You don't have to compare your suffering in terms of other people's. I likely would've turned if I heard Fenrich begging for help.

[Though he can't imagine the proud werewolf begging him to do anything except feast on human blood.]

[troubadamsel]

[She appreciates the sympathy, dude.]

... Unfortunately, our time here hasn't only been emotional and physical suffering. Do you know what a siren is?

[promissum]

Hm... The ones that sing to crash boats? I didn't spend most of my time around the ocean.

[troubadamsel]

Oh, they do much more than that. Their song lured many of us to the sea, where they captured and treat as livestock. The rest of us mounted a mission to rescue them... we succeeded, but not without costs.

[granted, death is just a pause button here, but still.]

[promissum]

People have died? What happens to them?

[He's cut off from the Netherworld, so it can't be that]

[troubadamsel]

Well... from what I've been made to understand... After a certain period of time... They come back to life, as if it never happened.

[promissum]

... As... their current selves?

[ Thanks, he hates it. ]

[troubadamsel]

Yes. Not as Prinnys or anything else. Just themselves.

[promissum]

That... That shouldn't be possible!

[troubadamsel]

You're telling me! And yet it happened!

[promissum]

This place must be cut off from a proper afterlife. [There's no other explanation here.]

[troubadamsel]

In a strange way, it does make a certain amount of sense. See, there are people from the same world, but a different point in time.

[promissum]

[peoplediewhentheyarekilled.jpg]

So this is some kind of strange pocket existence? [He's not thrilled.]

[troubadamsel]

It would have to be, otherwise the timelines would be wrecked.

[promissum]

Do people remember what happens here when they leave? I suppose that would be difficult to test...

[troubadamsel]

I suspect not, but I have nothing to really confirm it. This place is... locked away, from all realms, it feels.