graveyard

[mygod]

Graveyard

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the town

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post one

Welcome to Deda

So, you're dead. Sucks!

Except you might not feel dead—after what feels like a long brush with dreamless sleep, you wake up in a quaint hole: a coffin in an uncovered grave, blanketed in fog. Entombed with you are any personal items (unless they're trial evidence, sorry), and a strange feeling of... lightness? Whatever corruption was in your blood seems to have cleared away with your death, and your injuries are healed, besides any cool scars and lingering aches.

Once you make your way out, a quiet, verdant graveyard (literal) awaits you. You could take a look around the various locations, but the same fog that greeted you surrounds this place, keeping you from venturing too far outside of the town limits.

Still, you may as well get yourself situated. You're not done yet.

Welcome to the graveyard! Here's a quick primer:

You are dead. However, characters are healed of their critical injuries; they may keep any scars or lingering pains that you like. Additionally, they are no longer corrupted. The monstrous force inside you has subsided; this means characters will no longer have powers, etc.

● Setting ● The graveyard has the overall look and feel of a small New England town from the '90s; characters can travel any of the Graveyard Locations, fenced in by fog and forests. But the fog makes this place otherworldly, and strangely permeable. Maybe you can influence your surroundings?

● Living Watch ● Where there are screens, you can view the living side. This includes televisions at the bar, Heaven's Night, and in the apartment lobby—you may even spot a passing glimpse of them in a mirror or glass of water. Only public gatherings like mingles, trial, etc, can be seen and heard this way.

● Items ● Personal inventory transfers over to the graveyard, including items that may be stolen during trial. The only items that stay on the living side are ones that are voluntarily given away. Thursday victims will receive their items in their rooms on Sunday, after Execution. Those who arrive any other day will have their items in their grave with them.

● Injuries and Death ● Characters can still be injured and die here. While characters do not stay dead, please let the mods know if it does happen, so we can inform you of how it works.

● Audiences ● You can audience Death in person, but none of the other NPCs are currently available. You can ignore the note section and go to the apartment penthouse directly to visit, or meet him wherever.

● Effects and Events ● Weekly effects still hit the graveyard, and you may use items on the living unless otherwise noted. Mini-events will go up at the same time as their living counterparts. CYOAs are still available for our sweet deda.

● OOC Notes ● Alluding to the fact that the graveyard exists OOCly is okay, but please keep details of what it looks like, what happens here, plot, et cetera, to yourselves. Feel free to ask the mods if you're not sure about anything!

scawwy mygod
gy locations ✦ locations ✦ statuses ✦ ic profiles
Audiences ✦ reporting ✦ private conversations
murder proposals ✦ rulebook

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FULL NAVIGATION

Comments

[tactic]

[ NOOOOOOO if seagull poop gets on Aventurine's very expensive clothes he will lose it.

In the midst of seagull attack, he's going to clamber in through the window with no regard to whether or not he gets cut by any remaining glass. He'll even break the larger pieces on his way in with either his hands or shoulders.

Once he's inside, he'll reach for Nona to help her in, but this time he'll be a bit more careful in making sure she gets inside without getting cut up too bad. ]

[segnale]

[swinging her crossbow around in an attempt to wave the seagulls off!]

Aaaaah, leave us alone!

[but yeah once aventurine he's in she's running over to climb into the building too]

[mygod]

[ if i were being realistic, these seagulls would be SO full of poop. but since aventurine will definitely be getting cut up a little on the way inside, they can both safely avoid bird droppings for now. maybe not glass, though. there's quite a bit of broken glass on the ground, which is made of dull wood, treated just enough to avoid rotting in the moist atmosphere of the lakeside.

but the birds don't follow them inside, so they're safe for now. the interior is... dingy. the light filters in poorly through the dirty windows, and the smell is stale, musty in the way that a shut-up, lived-in space can be. the salt air from the broken window doesn't seem to help much, barely penetrating the atmosphere.

there are a few rooms; the one they're in is some sort of shared living space, and there is a bedroom for what would presumably be lighthouse keepers to the side. there's also a door. ]

[tactic]

[ (chris hemsworth voice) we should split up

Aventurine will check on his cuts later... Now that they're safely away from birds, he looks around the room they're in. ]

... It's not very impressive.

[ Like, what was he expecting? He'll start walking the perimeter of the room they just broke into to see if there's anything notable in here. ]

[segnale]

Are you all right, Aventurine?

[but nona also elects to ignore any glass cuts of her own for now.]

Hm... Well, might as well get exploring! Maybe it'll be more impressive later.

['tis an adventure...

she goes to the door and tries to open it.]

[mygod]

[ can you both please care a little more about getting cut on glass three seconds into a break-in. seagulls are not sanitary.

aventurine can walk the perimeter, it's not like, a massively huge space. if anything, it feels sort of small, like it'd be uncomfortable more than one person to live here. his foot taps against something solid though, which skids a little across the wood: when it spins to a stop, it looks like a scrimshaw.

the door that nona is trying is locked quite tight, and it's actually the only metal door in the house. it does look like it accepts a key, at least, though obviously you don't have one in your possession. ]

[tactic]

I'm fine, Nona. Don't worry about me.

[ i had to google scrimshaw

But okay, neat. He's going to pick this up with his bloody, cut up hand to take a closer look at it. ]

[segnale]

You better not be acting tough, mister...

[hmmMMMM a locked door]

Let me know if you see a key anywhere! This door's locked too, but no window to bust up this time.

[heads towards the bedroom]

[mygod]

[ STOP BLEEDING

aventurine gazes upon the scrimshaw... oooo it's a toof...... or at least that same, bone-like ivory material. it's almost pretty, in a macabre sort of way, considering what it's made of. there's an etching in the surface of it, with turquoise and gold ink dipped into the grooves to help it stand out even more against the off-white canvas of bone: an abstract pattern, like the waves and ripples of sand. looking at it brings him a sense of... peace. it's probably fine in this weird, dingy watch house.

nona can go to the bedroom. it's cramped, but there are two beds and a number of photos put up on the walls. it feels lived-in. in a way, it's at once comfortable and lonely—who does her mind drift to, with feelings like those? ]

[tactic]

[ Actually, he is very attracted to this scrimshaw because it looks so nice and he likes nice trinkets like this. Very ooh ahh pretty.

He pockets it for now. ]

I'll keep an eye out.

[ He's going to do one final sweep of this room before meeting up with Nona in the bedroom. ]

[segnale]

[honestly, in a bedroom, she thinks of home, and when she thinks of home, she thinks of her mother. but maybe that's her own loneliness, knowing that if she ever gets to return, ever gets to see her own bedroom again, it won't really be "hers" anymore.

she goes to look at the photos.]

[mygod]

[ he feels better after having pocketed the scrimshaw! it's nice. what a nice thing he's found. it feels very solid and weighty in his pocket, like a friend.

in the bedroom, he'll experience the same sort of feelings as nona: something about the space just inspires a mix of loneliness and comfort. who comes to mind, now?

speaking of, for nona, on this side of the room... they are pictures of nona and her friends. they're happy photos, mostly smiles; the reason her mother isn't in any of them is perhaps because she's the one taking the pictures. there is a wrongness about them, because she won't remember actually being there for any of these moments, but—is that so bad? a girl named nona out there who could be happy?

there's more on the shelves, and from here it's easier to see a nook that leads into the kitchen, with a back door. ]

[tactic]

[ This tooth is his only friend now.

He pauses in the bedroom as the strange feelings wash over him. Instantly, he thinks of his big sister, which is an agonizing thought, so he tries to push it aside as he makes his way toward Nona. ]

I couldn't find a key in the main room, but...

[ His voice trails off here as his gaze moves to the photos on the wall. Is he going to be seeing something different here... ]

[segnale]

Well, we'll just have to keep looking.

[but her voice is distant as she replies to aventurine, her smile not quite all there. her gaze sweeps over the photos, until she frowns a little.

lasting happiness—a future with her loved ones—is something that's escaped every iteration of "nona". if this place has its way, maybe she won't be any different, despite what she told her other self. i'll be happy, i'll make others happy.

she goes to the kitchen.]

[mygod]

[ aventurine can check out the photos hanging up around the other bed, the one opposite of where nona had been standing. and sure enough, the photos are different. they aren't of him, though—there's pictures of his sister, and she's happy too. there's some where she looks a little older than he remembers. the people in the background have the same eyes as him, but he's not there.

why isn't he in any of them? maybe he was holding the camera? except he doesn't remember taking these. the air in this room is starting to feel very heavy, like the salt from the sea is weighing it down.

nona can continue into the kitchen. there is no happiness to be found here; it reeks of rotting seafood; there are flies swarming the counter, licking at the bones of fish and empty, broken-open shells of lobsters. their carapaces, flaking and torn open. at the very least, the birds don't seem to have swarmed this side of the watch house, so there's nothing at the windows or door.

by now, both of them feel a strange, permeating feeling that follows beyond the bedroom of the house: loneliness. ]

[tactic]

[ Unfortunately, Aventurine's mental strength is that of a wet paper napkin. He balks at the photos, staring at them with narrowed eyes. The distress that he's feeling at seeing something completely impossible is only worsened by the growing feeling of loneliness that weighs down on him, and he reaches for the photos with a shaking hand.

Can he take these photos... ]

[segnale]

[AVENTURINE

great news nona is used to loneliness and unlike aventurine apparently her mental strength is not that of a wet paper napkin so she will try and persist, but this sucks!! terrible adventure!!!

she wrinkles her nose at the kitchen, but continues looking around as she covers her face. nothing in here besides the gross shit?]

[mygod]

[ the collage itself, the whole collective of his absence, seems to be there to remind aventurine that he doesn't belong in any of these photos. they're not his pictures. doesn't he get that he's not meant to be with her, not even in a single frame?

does he understand that?



but he can take a photo. yayyy photo! if nothing else, he has his this and his neat lil tooth friend to keep him company.

there doesn't seem to be anything in the kitchen besides some gross shit, though there are some bottles of booze. actually, there's a lot of booze. she can have some, it might take the edge off of how shitty this house is. if you would like to feel COMPELLED to drink, you may have this as a treat, but i will not force this upon you jan

[tactic]

[ bursts into tears yay photo!

Just kidding, he's going to keep it together because it would be so uncool to have a breakdown right here and now. He's careful not to get any blood on the photo that he takes, one of his smiling sister, and he pockets that too.

After a couple of deep breaths meant to center himself, he'll follow Nona into the kitchen and immediately avoid the disgusting counter, even pinching at his nose to keep from breathing in the foul smell. What! The fuck! ]

Let's not hang around here for too long.

[segnale]

[nona becomes an alcoholic in front of aventurine

no she will just stare awkwardly at this oddly mesmerizing booze.]

Yeah... I really don't like this place so far.

[she goes back into the bedroom to get away from this smell and to check out the shelves.]

[mygod]

[ the booze... it calls to you... it actually is pretty hard to resist a drink right now, for both of them. the vibes of this place is nonfunctional alcoholism, baby.

nona will find the shelves for both beds are mostly filled with miscellaneous books on seafaring, marine mythology, and for some reason, canada. but there is also a small journal.

for aventurine, he has the option of checking the back door, or doing another once-over of the main living area. or drinking. he may also gaze upon the scrimshaw for strength. ]

[tactic]

[ Maybe he'll come back for the booze, but right now, he will check out the back door! happy pride month everybody.

He's going to make sure there aren't any rabid freak seagulls around by looking out the window before unlocking the door (assumes it was locked otherwise so sorry window) and turning the handle to open it. ]

[segnale]

[CANADA? i see. she will read the journal.]

[mygod]

[ both of you need to be stopped

the rabid seagulls are still concentrated at the window, as though they're waiting for them to crawl out the exact same way. so he can safely check outside. there is a wooden rowboat, various supply crates with an axe haphazardly laid across one, and a body tangled up in seaweed.

the bedroom still feels comfortable, even if it kicked off the Depression, so she can read and be cozy for a second. except the journal is aventurine's, actually. judging from the photos by the bed of his sister, this must be his side of the room. the notes outline his past: the people he's killed, the lies he's told, the very picture of a damaged man who is hiding the truth of who he is. he talks about nona and what a threat she is, what with the monster inside her. it doesn't make any rational sense, of course—this is the first time he's been here too.

but to nona, she'll find this eeriely convincing. the handwriting is his—the photos are all people who bear a striking resemblance to him.

does she even know where he is right now? what he's doing? she gets the feeling that maybe she should figure that out. ]

[tactic]

[ oh something so fucky is going on right now.

He takes note of the rowboat and the closes my eyes axe... And then when his eyes land on the body, he pauses.

It takes a second for him to start approaching, and when he does, he's cautious and careful. In fact, as he passes by the crates, he takes hold of the axe. Just in case.

He stops only a few feet away... Whose body is this. ]