Your past is always close behind

[letsplayamod]

[The last thing you recall is likely your own death. Whether it was fast or slow, it's over now. And you're... where are you?

One moment, you were among the living. The next - you may be one of the unfortunate ones who actually died. In which case, you've found yourself flowing in the lazy rivers of the river Styx, unfathomably deep underground. Just for a moment, mind you. It's not long before your consciousness is yanked from the waters by some scary monsters, shoved into a healed body, and pushed through a portal.

Or, maybe you were caught red-handed and sentenced to your doom. But, instead of a proper death, you were whisked down into the Veins of Tartarus. And there's really only one place that could lead to.

Welcome to Tartarus.

Here, you are stranded. Lone platforms of unearthly stone float amidst a sea of stars and galaxies. None of it is familiar, some of the constellations are even in shapes of Typhon or a few gods you haven't met. Even stranger, occasionally, you might hear a voice that could be your own. Voicing a fear. A disgust. A regret.

Looks like this is a prison after all. But it's also... calm here. Maybe you can breathe, for now.]

[In Tartarus, the 'dead' have been revived, healed of injuries, and imprisoned. You don't need to eat or drink here. You still have all of your abilities and god powers, as well.]

Comments

Week 2

[letsplayamod]

[Welcome, Crito and Sayo/Beatrice.]

[psychonductor]

[Crito awakes with a start. They rapidly check their body is all in one piece, before getting to their feet.]

Huh! So that's how it feels for other people.

[Crito, who spent their whole life in the underworld, finds themself taken by the novelty of a new afterlife.

Looking around, they let out a low whistle.]

This place is looking pret-ty sparse. Anyone out there?

[letsplayamod]

[Crito's question echoes out into the yawning void. Nothing replies.

At least, not yet.]

[tripartites]

[ well. it might not be the most comforting answer, crito.

but strangely, after a time, a few golden butterflies shine and flutter in the distance. ]

Week 3

[letsplayamod]

[Welcome, Alex and Wendy.]

cw near drowning mention

[rockymountaindie]

[ He's in the water, for a moment. He's almost died in the water before, you know. It was- well, it's not important now. Because he's dead again.

He has just enough time to think, think, think, this is nicer—before something snatches him up. Always just a mouse a cat has by the tail.

Alex gasps back to life for the second time. "Life", as you will. He stumbles through a portal to his knees, trembling. His hands tap all over his body, looking for holes. He felt it. He felt it go right through him, again and again, before it was instant, but this...


Regardless. This is different. This is new.

This is...not Death as he knows it.

Alex kneels there for a time. He thinks he hears something.

You can't go back. You can't help her. You...

He kneels there. For a time. For what feels like a long time. ]

[phototraces]

[Control was never an option.

Someone is in front of Alex. Someone who definitely can see him but is just slumped against a wall. Wendy.

She's been awake for a few moments but she doesn't move. She... doesn't deserve a chance to say sorry...

But she speaks.]

...Alex.

???

[letsplayamod]

[In the depths of that moment in a vast expanse of time, or maybe none at all, Alex could be mistake if he thought he'd heard something.]

--ursed Athena! Still, she prevents my victory!

[Except that doesn't sound like it's coming from Alex's head. It's distant, but he can hear it.

Everyone can.]

[tripartites]

[ after a time—minutes? hours? it feels impossible to say. after alex and wendy have found one another and spoken, a few glowing golden butterflies wink into sight. they slowly flutter away in the same direction, as if trying to lead the two—or simply hold their attention for a few moments. ]

Week 4

[letsplayamod]

[Welcome, Hoshino Ai and Snow White.]

???

[letsplayamod]

[A short time after the new arrivals, there's distant sounds of an interaction. And, like the last time, everyone can hear it. But it's hard to discern from where. Fading in and out almost as if it's coming from inside your own head.]

...--are not yielding. Time and again, you have failed even to--

How dare you speak of my efforts in vain! I have only begun to rain havoc upon them! They shall see--

[It's Typhon. Typhon and... A voice you do not recognize.]

[rockymountaindie]

[ !!! ]

It's the other one. The- what's it mean, he's failed? Everyone keeps goin' along with him, but that's...that's not the goal?

[ alex is honestly just going to talk to himself about this- is the voice like... can he tell if it's masculine, feminine, young, old, what, anything else he can get? ]

[atu709]

[ If Snow White does not receive a Happily Ever After, then Snow White's story isn't over. There is no death that can come for her.

She calmly, too calmly, reaches into a hole in her stomach and removes a blade, a dagger that no one ever found on her. The blade is frosted over by ice, which melts to simple condensation as she stares at it. Looks at her reflection.

She laughs. The laughs turn to screams. The screams to sobs.

So long as her story lives on, Snow White will never truly die. ]

[rockymountaindie]

[ Snow's cries echo and carry in the empty Tartarus. It's become hard to track days, so this and only this is how Alex knows a week has passed.

He walks slowly, like weights drag his feet. He could just let her cry. Keep his distance.

But that's not the kind of person he is.

Alex stops a few feet away from her. He... Well, he tries to wait for her sobs to calm, but...they won't, will they? ]

[letsplayamod]

[Somewhere, distantly in the void of stars and time. Even here, down in the dark depths, Snow White will hear the soft call of a bird.]

Week 5

[letsplayamod]

[Welcome, Aglaea, MuMo, Misane and Ivilezlei.]

the afterparty to the afterparty, as it were

[tripartites]

[ it might be hard to say how long it took for you to come to your senses in this dismal place. but wherever you find yourself, whether you’re alone or you’ve encountered another in the void already, the flickering and almost hallucinatory sight of glowing, golden butterflies will enter your sight. the witch’s illusion whispers its invitation. a few of the butterflies will coalesce and turn into an ornate envelope, trimmed in gold leaf and sealed with wax. inside, on heavy high-quality paper, an elegantly handwritten message greets the reader: ]

Welcome to Tartarus, my fellow fallen gods. Was your island getaway a pleasant one?

I, Bᴇᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴇ the Endless Witch, am pleased to extend you an invitation to my tea party. Should you choose to attend, you need only accept the scene before you as it unfolds. I hope that this refuge will be enjoyable, despite our present circumstances.

Your participation in the tea party hinges on certain strict conditions. The Golden Magic will not harm you, so above all, I must insist that you do not deny the truth of your five senses. Furthermore, violence against your fellow guests will not be tolerated within my parlor. In either event, violating either of these two rules will result, at minimum, in exile from my territory and the loss of the sanctuary I offer. Abide by these simple requests. That is all I require from you.

Should you refuse my invitation, then I wish you well regardless. My sincerest wish, in such an event, is that you may change your mind.

I await you all in my small slice of the Golden Land. The butterflies will show you the way.

Bᴇᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴇ the Golden

[ should the new arrival accept the invitation’s premise, even if only silently to themselves, the letter and envelope will once more scatter into a cloud of golden butterflies. following their path will eventually lead to a walled structure on the stone platform, and the butterflies will appear to land on a door before winking out of existence. the door has clearly been defaced with marks signifying the room’s new master. its surface bears a near-obliterated relief of typhon’s face, encircled by the roughly etched shape of a butterfly.

inside, the illusion is in force, strengthened by each new participant and the lack of outside observers. the room appears as a richly furnished parlor, centered around a long table with comfortable leather chairs. golden butterflies flit here and there in the room, and music drifts from a record player against the far wall, the setup half-encircled by large cushions on the floor. the table is piled with a tea tray and an array of baked goods, along with a few decks of cards and whatever board games happen to be in progress. a long, low bookshelf is stuffed to the brim with mystery novels. a liquor cabinet sits unlocked near a fine wood-surfaced minibar, an antique tea cart and a pair of stools. the cabinet seems to always manage to have a bottle of something familiar and desirable sitting towards the back. the closet seems to have whatever board, card or tile game someone could want, regardless of its time or place of origin.

many of your fellow dead gods may be there when you enter, as if nothing happened to them in the first place. naturally, yasuda sayo—or is she beatrice in this moment, or someone else altogether? it really can be difficult to tell—plays hostess, greeting new guests, offering refreshments and playing games. the dead may have no need of food or drink, but it certainly helps to ease the endless boredom of the void outside, does it not?

welcome to the witch’s tea party.

why not enjoy yourself? as for the dead who have been here longer... well, are you making the best of it?

either way, sayo seems to be enjoying herself. though, seeing that some of these new faces have joined the ranks of the dead may well change that. ]

[tailoredfate]

[In the brief haze between death and... this next stage of death, there are still a few thoughts that manage to cross Aglaea's mind. One, that this is far from the field of white flowers that Stelle had described on her journey with Castorice, and two-

Ah, two, she thinks that Mnestia might be coming for her for dying twice, for letting her powers slip through her fingers yet again. The golden butterflies...

The golden butterflies aren't only a symbol of Mnestia. It's this thought that manages to ground Aglaea as she's forced into her own form again, and she follows the trail to the door. She smiles when she sees the way Typhon's image has been defaced, and with little hesitation, pushes open the door.

... It's no bar room, but her new surroundings do get a soft laugh out of Aglaea.]

Well. You certainly seem like you've been busy here, Beatrice.

[necromants]

[Ivilezlei arrives late. But then, of course he does; he's had plenty to sort through on his own and even more to try to come to terms with within those memories finally returned to him. He isn't particularly interested in this tea party, but that doesn't stop him from coming anyway. Might as well, right? There has to be some reason to keep moving, he thinks.

(Granted, that reason for Zvei was recovering his memories. That reason for Ivilezlei was to follow Szyi's dreams of helping Ize-Vti. What is he supposed to do now, the shattered remains of a man who wanted to do better, and a man willing to do far, far worse to reclaim what was stolen from him?

And that's to say nothing of Seymour, who is even further beyond his reach now. Maybe someone better will be able to bring him some measure of comfort.)

So he sits at one of the tables staring off into space, not particularly interested in socializing or eating, instead just... thinking. His expression is once again completely blank, the usual smile long gone.]

[cannotunravel]

...I kind of wish the rule against violence wasn't there.

[Ah, Misane is here. She doesn't seem happy in the slightest -- and how would she be happy, obviously? This is pretty rough. Dying was absolutely horrible, and from time to time she touches her chest like she expects there to be a bleeding wound there.

She's busy staring at the golden butterflies because yeah, she's dissociating. Joining the ranks of the people who do that!]

[atu709]

[ dissociating is a fine response to death, snow thinks, but she has done quite enough of it. she must take command, if only of herself.

so she arrives at the tea party in... perhaps oddly high spirits, considering the state she's been in the last month. which is to say that she's in a halfway-decent mood.

four of them. four new arrivals. my, but the living have been busy, haven't they? she wonders what riled them up so badly.

the one living person who could knock her completely out of her Coping isn't here, so it's fine. she doesn't know what she would do either way. but there's something freeing about it just being four people who likely hate her, rather than the one who certainly does and whose opinion she properly values.

it's a bit of a farce in general, her attending a tea party. but then again, what greater farce is there than a tea party in hell? ]

Historically princesses and witches don't make for very good company, you know.

???

[letsplayamod]

Not much longer. I cannot wait, and she would see me reduced to nothing!

[It's Typhon again. His voice drifting in echoes cross the vast nothingness. Somehow, even if it shouldn't, it sounds closer.]

I will regain my strength... and it will all be mine...

[tailoredfate]

[Ha. She's not sure if Typhon can see or hear them, since this is just his voice, but still, Aglaea speaks mostly to herself aloud.]

"Regain my strength".... so we were right, then. That Typhon's threats were mostly hot air.

[necromants]

[Ivilezlei's been wandering aimlessly, never stopping to rest and staying away from the others generally, but this... He comes to a halt at this, eyes flicking skywards as though maybe he'll see Typhon again, though of course there's no such luck(?).]

I wonder... Do you feel the same way I did?

[Helpless, desperate. Will it consume Typhon the way it consumed Zvei?]

[atu709]

[ with all the grace and beauty she can muster, snow white flips off the void. ]

... Nope, doesn't feel satisfying. Damn.