WEEK 2

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 2

[As one week changes to the next, the Titled will find themselves having vivid dreams. Very vivid. Perhaps too real to only be dreams. Lost memories? Could it be, then, that those who brought you here did something to your minds along with your bodies?

Whatever the case, everyone, no matter how deep their sleep, are awoken to the sound of creaking, groaning metal coming from the first floor. When they do go to investigate, they will find something surprising.

The set of the doors on the right have opened.

Even the Intercessor seems stunned. It has been an odd weekend for everyone. After all, in between finding items seemingly popping out of mid air, and a bloodied statue that belongs to seemingly no one, its all very...strange.

Somehow, one gets the feeling that those strange items won't be the last they see. Indeed, after the doors open, there's the worrying, foreboding feeling coming back once more. And if those feelings are connected to the strange occurrence on Saturday...it can only mean one thing.

There's really only one way to find out if that's the case. The powers that brought you here certainly aren't going to give anyone a straight answer.

So, Titled: welcome to Week 2.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]


((OoC: Welcome to Week 2! Remember to do your memory regains and your activity check!))

Comments

[bythewaves]

There is no reason to.

[ Maglor croons to them, digging through memory to his brother's lessons, scratching around curling horns ]

But I envy them their ignorance. Would that we could have the same!

[poorlovefool]

[He nods, understanding. The cows are happy just to be getting affection; that's one (1) thing they have in common, though not one he'd really thought about. Ignorance is bliss, huh. He probably wouldn't be in this melancholic mood if that weren't true.]

I never would've thought there was a way to bring a person back. It's stupid, right? I don't know how to deal with anything these fucking people are trying to say.

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor's hands are gentle but his eyes are very old and tired, his voice lilting with some dark memory ]

There are. But such things are the province of the darkest of arts. I would not wish any of those I loved to be bound so.

[ But what if? What if? Can the Halls of Mandos be breached? ]

[poorlovefool]

"Bound?" I don't get what you mean... are you saying it'd be like selling their soul to the devil?

[Because wow that doesn't sound good.]

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor considers the word carefully ]

That word is not familiar to me, but if I understand your meaning... tis less "selling" and more... enslaving. The Unhoused that the Necromancer took he twisted, violating our dead in the Marshes to become wraithforms of horror, to entrap the unwary. We speak still of the dangers of treating with the Unhoused, who might seek to steal the bodies of the living, for they long ever for the protection of flesh.

[poorlovefool]

[So it's been an utterly insane week and a half. After all he's seen in this short time, Eric was finally trying to be open minded to the idea of magic existing.

And this is what he gets. It is so unlucky that he's read enough fantasy junk to actually understand what this dude's saying, because that mental image is fucking terrifying.]

Gah... T-That's not saving him at all...

[He lets a pronoun slip, betraying that there's a someone on his mind right now. It's definitely enough to give one pause. Though, that note had certainly said it would, and for whatever mysterious reason it seemed to ring true. He'd believed from the moment he laid eyes on the note that he could save someone, and he's the type to trust the most in his gut impulse.

But seriously, can he just go back to not believing in this shit? He doesn't want to have to worry about whether a warm pineapple would turn people into zombies.]

[bythewaves]

You as well, eh?

[ Maglor smiles at him, bittersweet, and his voice drops low ]

Tis a cruel temptation, for my family are all lost to me, e'en though I cannot remember the exact circumstances. But I know also what sort of power dabbles in such things - have I not fought against Them these long years? To offer so, and to offer in apparent sincerity!

[poorlovefool]

[Good grief.]

I guess we've got some stuff in common then. My mom, my little brother Chris, and my dad all died at various points in my life... I don't remember what happened to Chris either.

[Granted he is not fighting any necromancers but he gets the point there anyway. It's an insult to their memory if he puts it like that.]

Maybe that's something else they're doing to us? T-They're messing with our heads!