Piper 90: Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
Entry tags:
- #memshare,
- #rig logs,
- adora,
- alloran semitur-corass,
- bunnymund,
- catra,
- dan sagittarius,
- guts,
- kevin armstrong,
- nora valkyrie,
- remy lebeau,
- rogue,
- ronald mcdonald,
- ronan lynch,
- sam winchester,
- saturday,
- setsuna higashi,
- stacia novik,
- tenten,
- ✘ aleifr bjornsson,
- ✘ remus lupin,
- ✘ sirius black,
- ✘ steven universe
Invasion!
Who: The New Hires
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
no subject
[He seems very distanced from the society, even for an amnesiac, but they are as tiny and unintimidating as he only ever is without power. Whatever these rabbit people are, he's different from them.
Were they under his protection? Dread grows in the pit of his stomach. Did he fail them?
Abruptly the memory shifts. They're running - well, Bunny is running, fired off by an instinct, and Sam is carried along in his wake.
It's dark. It's the utter dark of underground. It's the dead dark opposite of the warm light of a moment ago.
It's cold. It's quiet. Not a breath of air moves - except for the breaths Bunny is heaving as he runs.
He pauses as his paws touch solid ice. The dimmest grey light is ahead, marking the end of the tunnel.
The dread in the pit of Bunny's stomach floods him.
Maybe he didn't remember this because he doesn't want to remember this.
He runs along anyway and emerges out of the tunnel to find the little city of rabbit-people frozen.
It is like the cold version of a village immolated in place by a pyroclastic flow. Some are encased in full ice, but others flash-froze from the temperature drop alone. The little rabbit people had just enough time to look alarmed, turn their faces to the crater-scar of some terrible attack on their home, before they were dead.
They had enough time to be afraid.
The ones on the edge even had time, judging by their frozen bodies mid-run, to suffer.
The light that shone from everywhere in the older memory is faded to the dimmest, greyest haze. In the city that was so lively a moment ago, nothing stirs - not even a bug, not even a leaf.
Nothing - except the one little rabbit person that emerged from the tunnel with Sam and Bunny.
He's not much larger than his dead kin. Certainly not to the tune of 6 feet. But he's got closer to the athletic stature of a hare, and by his black-striped grey fur, is whoever Bunny was when he lived this memory.
His hyperventilation from his flat-out run into the warren has left him too winded to scream. But he's trying.
Somehow, that sound is worse than screaming.
Next to him, unseen, Bunny is laboring to keep breathing evenly.]
Oh I . . . have to go through this twice then.
[He sounds distant, untethered as he says it.
As the memories start creeping back in to be his again.
His younger, smaller self has gotten his breath back, and is sobbing as loudly as he can, the disbelief and horror and impossible scale of his grief pouring out of him.]
no subject
[It makes sense to him. Humans are pack animals, after all. A community of some sort is just the normal way of things.]
[Still, with the warning, it doesn't surprise Sam when everything changes. When they're suddenly running along a tunnel in the full dark and there's a dread in the pit of his stomach that is and isn't his own.]
[Even so, what awaits them at the end of the tunnel is not what he's expecting in the least. The ice, the small frozen bodies. The fact that they knew, even if only for a split second, that something had gone terribly wrong. He closes his eyes, remembering what his brother had told him about the world Zachariah had shown him, the one where Sam had said yes to Lucifer but wasn't strong enough to push him back.]
[Except this is even worse because Bunny is obviously the only one left.]
[He lets all of that wash over and through him, giving himself a chance to breathe again before he moves, placing a hand on Bunny's shoulder. A reminder that he's not seeing this alone, that he's not there again all alone.]
no subject
But slowly the memories are creeping in, spreading from this moment, like a stain on paper - both forward, to what he's about to have to do, how he's about to become himself, and back - to everything that was lost to him.
Every name. But not every face.
He doesn't have to remember every face of the dead. They're all before him.
His past self staggers with directionless grief at the nearest body, then the next, and finally finds something to do in his awful, overwhelming horror. He begins calling names. No one answers to any of them.
But as he moves, overhead in the ice coating even the roof of the cavern, a narrow line of the golden light from before shines through the ice, tracking his progress through the field of death. It's not enough to melt anything. But it is a bright line of something different from the cold, dead endlessness of the destruction.
The grieving rabbit in the past hasn't noticed it yet. Bunny takes note of it now, but in a dead-eyed, wonderless stare, only noting it as - yeah - the logical thing to have been taking place while he was running out of names, and calling now, increasingly hopeless, for his mother.]
We should try to go.
[He manages to breathe it out to Sam, turns, lopes through the tunnel they entered.
He expected the tunnel to simply spit him back out on the field of the dead, but instead, it lets him pick his way on all fours through the darkness.]
I wish you hadn't had to see that.
no subject
[Which is why he turns and follows Bunny down the tunnel, keeping an eye on the much larger rabbit.]
It's a lot to take in. [Easy enough to admit that.] I'm assuming the light had something to do with how you went from about six inches tall to six foot?
no subject
[He doesn't immediately recognize what Sam's questioning, but when the light at the end of this tunnel turns out to be a return to the same terrible scene, he notices the light himself. He'd never noticed, back then, how the fractures in the ice on the roof of the Warren followed his tracks, the Light breaking through only initially where he ran.]
- the light. [Answers are slow to come, in his shock at this horror revisited, and in their natural slow return. But they are coming back.]
Yeah. The Light of Eos, she -
[Coming back slow enough, though, that he remembers mid-sentence why telling Sam would be a bad idea.]
- don't ask about it.
[It's abrupt, but hopefully Sam will forgive him. These aren't memories that lend themselves well not to being abrupt.
He turns to run again, pulling himself and Sam back into darkness, and this time, the light ahead has a green tinge.]
no subject
[All of which crosses his mind in half a moment, along with the memory of reading books on Greek mythology, learning everything he could. And while the memory isn't stronger than Bunny's, there's a moment where the scent of old books and libraries breaks through.]
Okay, yeah, fair.
[For the moment, at least. That's something that might change later, if they need to.]
no subject
The light in the Warren is back on, but towards the north end, graves upon graves are still bare mounds of dirt. No grass or flowers grown on the little hills yet. The river flows with clear water. Green moss has begun to grow on the walls again, but the trees are still black skeletons. The only flowers visible are growing beneath Aster's feet - he has his full height now - and from a massive pile of dirt before him.
Not only are there flowers upon the ten foot high dirt mound, they grow so fast that the petals fall from her like drops of water trickling from a spring. Vines grow continuously, winding like snakes through and out of the dirt, parting only momentarily to show the dark richness of the soil.
Beside her is a pillar of rock, fully twenty feet tall, that doesn't match the bare dirt in the warren at all. She is striated with bands of red and white and black and brown, every kind of stone that has ever formed together.
Bunny skids to a stop at the sight of them, as he catches on quickly to his past self arguing with the two formations, and this memory makes him skid to a stop again -]
Ah, no!
[He turns and bolts away from the vision of his past self arguing - desperately, by his tone - with earth features, but running only brings him right back to the same memory, this time close enough to catch snatches of the argument.
"- was WHY they all died, because they were all here in one place, don't you see? I am not safest here, I shouldn't even have to tell you so, Mother!"
The way he says 'Mother' to the dirt mound makes it sound like a title, not an actual reference to family ties, and the desperation in Aster's voice suggests that this Mother does, in fact, have authority over him.]
Strewth, not this one!
[Something about the memory has panicked Bunny. He turns and runs, but again, running only brings him and Sam right back to the same vision, this time, as the rock formation speaks -
"Yet you aren't any safer on my surface, even as you are now. I could thicken the ceiling - I could seal you off -"
"Grandmother, I can't live like that," Aster objects, his desperation only rising. "You can't understand. I will actually die if you seal me off. I can't live like that."
"But you could still die so easily anywhere else," objects a voice from the dirt mound.
"No. I've survived this long and I'm going to keep on doing it if you let me do it my way."
"But your life is not your own anymore," the rock objects.
Bunny turns to Sam, real panic suddenly in his expression.]
Sam, you can't know this. Get out of here, run!
[Running from the memory will only bring Sam back to hear it - Bunny suspects that, and Sam could confirm it by running, but he has to try to stop this problem from happening, and he's already tried running himself.]
no subject
[Of course, what's going on isn't that easy to outrun. Like when he'd gone with Bunny before, his running simply brought him straight back to the previous place. He grimaces, casting an apologetic look to Bunny.]
Looks like I'm stuck for the duration.
no subject
[The Bunny of the past shakes his head in denial. "No, that can't be true."
"You certainly can't leave until you accept that it is." Terra's voice shakes the very ground. There would be no blocking it out.
"No, a candle doesn't lose anything by lighting another," Aster objects. "She told me so Herself."
The vines growing from the mound of earth expand and contract like a frustrated sigh. "She was being poetic!" Gaia's voice seems to hum directly in the ear of all living things. There is no blocking Her out either. "Eos was not a candle. She was the Sun. She was a part of the Sun, here on Earth. And now she's extinguished. Thankfully, you are not."
"It's fortunate she Enlightened your people. If she hadn't -"
Aster doesn't actually physically shrink. But he does cave over just a bit, crouching suddenly as if under the actual physical weight of his sudden responsibility. "This cannot be happening."
"If you die, the flame She shared with you will go out. The sun will dim. I will freeze. All life on me will die."
Aster groans in horror. Bunny echoes himself.
He stares Sam directly in the eye.]
Sam. You cannot tell anyone this. [His voice is trembling with horror and barely restrained panic.] You cannot allow this to be known.
no subject
[He put his hands over his ears. He tried humming and singing the loudest rock song he could remember. But nothing could block out those voices, the words he could feel in his bones rather than his ears.]
[His hands drop away in shock as he realizes what the goddesses are saying, what it means. And he can only stare between them and Bunny for a moment before he takes a breath and lets it out slowly.]
Yeah. Yeah, no, I get why you really wouldn't want that out there. [Sam's quiet for a moment as he mulls over what this all means.] I won't promise that nobody will find out from me. There may be a day that somebody else knowing that bit of information is necessary for keeping you alive. But I can promise that nobody will ever hear it from my lips until and unless it is absolutely necessary.
no subject
In more than a thousand years that has never been necessary for anyone to know. It is not going to become necessary in however long we're here! It will not!
[He states it with the intensity of the strain it has been, keeping this to himself for that long.]
Don't you dare even think about it as something to speak of. I've kept myself alive this long. I'm not going to stop now.
no subject
['Worst case scenario' seems to trigger something in his mind, bringing up something new. The barrow changes to a hotel room, nearly unidentifiable in its blandness. One of thousands that Sam has been in during his life. Bland walls, bland furniture. Queen-sized bed with a much younger Sam in it.]
[The thing is, of course, that he's not alone in the bed. Sam can feel his shoulders tightening as the blonde woman changes in this dream, becomes a man and his own secret is laid bare.]
[He doesn't try to stop Bunny from listening. It wouldn't be fair when he couldn't avoid it himself.]
Well. [He crosses his arms, trying hard to look like this doesn't bother him.] I guess that's one way for my brain to make certain I don't give away the secret. Offer something in return.