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thecrossinglogs2025-01-18 12:15 pm
thecrossingmods) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-01-18 12:15 pm
THE CROSSING #1
THE CROSSING #1
It's time.
For more detail on the particulars of the event, be sure to refer to our info and planning post!
For more detail on the particulars of the event, be sure to refer to our info and planning post!
time to choose
— CALM BEFORE THE STORM
It likely isn’t a surprise, when The Ferryman speaks into your mind again. You’ve known The Crossing was coming, and for the past hours, days, or weeks (however you prefer to section your time in this place), you’ve been feeling it drawing closer.
You’ve felt the pull on your soul, guiding you to follow The River; you’ve felt the changes in the Cavern, and in yourself, a shift in atmosphere that seems to start in the humidity of the air and sinks deep down into your bones. You feel solid. More importantly, you feel vulnerable.
Those who want to pay the toll are invited to gather at The Ferryman’s point of vigil; those who don’t will at least have the draw of The Crossing to guide them.
If you have anything to say before the split, now is the time to do it.
— LIGHTS OUT
Because when the moment comes, it waits for no one.
The Lantern doesn't extinguish immediately. Those gathered with The Ferryman (and, perhaps, those gathered near The Ferryman) will see it: a precarious flickering of flame behind glass. The light shrinks, and with it comes a feeling of something else retreating, too — something that you may have understood was there without realizing it, or that you may have assumed was simply another aspect of the light itself.
The bubble of safety, you realize, is receding. And when The Lantern's Light finally goes out, so too does the shield keeping you separated from the wraiths prowling the tunnels.
The darkness closes in. The Cavern's glowing plants are now the only steady source of light in the entire chamber, which allows your eyes to adjust, but only so much; it becomes difficult to make out the faces of even those standing right beside you.
It's time, so says The Ferryman. Make your decision.
follow the leader
— PAYMENT COMES DUE
There is no pomp or ceremony associated with The Ferryman's toll collection. You need only to be willing, and ready.
The darkness seems to shroud The Ferryman more than it does the rest of you, somehow. You can't make out the features of their face, only hear their voice bidding you to step forward when you're ready. For any of you who might need a moment, The Ferryman will wait.
A mote of light appears in The Ferryman's palms as the toll is paid, growing in proportion to the number of memories it receives. It's small, but you can feel the influence of it: that protective bubble you felt recede when The Lantern extinguished grows again around the light, just enough to envelop the group gathered here.
Time to go, says The Ferryman. And even though you can't track their movements in the darkness, the light tracks it for you: over the lip of the land bridge, and down to the black River below.
Nowhere to go but forward. When you step off yourself (even if it takes a bit of psyching up to get there), you'll find that the drop is gentle, and that your steps suspend safely over the water.
Just don't get left behind.
— HEAR A VOICE THAT CAUSES YOU PAIN
And so, you journey.
You walk on the surface of The River as if it were a wide, black road. Ahead of you, that same mote of light follows in the steps of The Ferryman, illuminating the ripples they leave in the water as breadcrumbs for you to follow. The air above The River is cold, certainly, and sometimes the icy water might splash up onto your shoes or ankles — but The River is wide, and there's room enough to walk together, even if you can't see each other well. It's as comfortable as a journey like this might ever be.
But The Crossing is a trial. You didn't forget, did you?
It starts slow: sounds from the darkness that could be voices, unless it's been dark for so long that your ears are playing tricks on you? Shouts of anger, high-pitched laughter, cries of fury and despair.
Then there are words. They beckon to you from the darkness: some plaintive, some punitive. They want you to stop. They want you to stay. They want you gone. Most of the voices are unfamiliar to you, but at least one, you know very well.
You need to keep moving. If you lose sight of The Ferryman's steps, you run the risk of being lost in the Cavern forever. Or perhaps it's someone beside you who's on the edge of losing their focus, someone who needs you to help keep them on the path?
trust your gut
— FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE
The rest of you, left behind on the banks of The River, have only your wits, the contents of your pockets, and the pull of something beyond the darkness to help you on the journey. The darkness is smothering, but not completely impenetrable: you have the glow of the Cavern plants, the faint gleam of the toll group’s steps on the surface of The River, and anything you may have picked up before you got here.
You can travel together or alone, but you must move. The metaphysical pull on you is growing stronger and more insistent the longer you stay in one place, and the Cavern, before preternaturally silent and still, is beginning to stir.
The wraiths, once silent, shapeless, harmless shadows following you about the Cavern, have changed. Where before they were merely unsettling to look at, now they have become larger and more monstrous: sharp eyes and claws, wide eyes and mouths. Where before they were silent, seemingly both unable and unwilling to make any sound, now they wail: wordless cries of pain and anger giving away their positions in the darkness.
Some of them may even be familiar to you, once they get close enough; the wraiths that before had seemingly taken a liking to you, seeking you out and following you wherever you went, now seem dedicated to hunting you specifically.
What the wraiths want from you, it's hard to say. If they catch you, they will tear at you without strategy or direction, like a ravenous animal — or perhaps a terrified one.
Any injuries you sustain during this time, whether from the wraiths or otherwise, are just as real to you as they would have been when you were alive: you bleed, you break, and you feel every inch of the pain inflicted on you.
Nowhere to go but forward. If you follow the pull in your gut, you'll get to where you're going. One way or another.
on the other side
— A MOMENT OF RESPITE
Whichever trial you've chosen, there is, eventually, the end.
You feel it first in the atmosphere: a resettling of the off-kilterness that's been surrounding you. The air slowly becomes drier, and the darkness less punishing. The plants that line the walls of the Cavern become more and more rare, their light replaced by ambient light leaking in from somewhere above you.
For the group traveling with The Ferryman, the wide expanse of The River gradually becomes shallower and narrower, until it's hardly a trickle beneath your feet, winding through the cave system. For the group traveling on their own, there comes a point where the wraiths seem unwilling or unable to follow, their shrieks in the darkness growing further and further away.
You feel it next in yourself: a smoothing of your rough edges, aches and muscle pain and physical exhaustion melting away. For any injured on the journey, your wounds resolve themselves as if natural healing on fast-forward. Natural healing is not always the cleanest or the most comfortable, though; you might be left with scars, crooked fingers or noses, or some other lasting memory of what you risked to be here.
Lastly, once The River has narrowed enough and two groups have reunited again: The Lantern relights. The Ferryman, for all that they were nearly invisible to you in the darkness, seems just the same as they were before. You made it through, they tell you, with no small amount of warmth and pride. Let's take a load off.
You should rest. If you took anything from the Cavern to help you on your journey, you'll find that it's gone from your pockets — when did that happen? Did you set it down? It's been such a long journey, it could have been a lapse of memory.
A memory? Ah, there's something else gone too, isn't there? Willingly or otherwise. If you try to reach for it now, it's like dust in the breeze, or a dream upon waking. You know it was there once, but the harder you try to recall it back, the thinner the details get. Eventually, you might not remember even that there was something to forget.
Congratulations. The Crossing is complete.
Image credits: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + stock imagery unless otherwise noted
It likely isn’t a surprise, when The Ferryman speaks into your mind again. You’ve known The Crossing was coming, and for the past hours, days, or weeks (however you prefer to section your time in this place), you’ve been feeling it drawing closer.
You’ve felt the pull on your soul, guiding you to follow The River; you’ve felt the changes in the Cavern, and in yourself, a shift in atmosphere that seems to start in the humidity of the air and sinks deep down into your bones. You feel solid. More importantly, you feel vulnerable.
Those who want to pay the toll are invited to gather at The Ferryman’s point of vigil; those who don’t will at least have the draw of The Crossing to guide them.
If you have anything to say before the split, now is the time to do it.
— LIGHTS OUT
Because when the moment comes, it waits for no one.
The Lantern doesn't extinguish immediately. Those gathered with The Ferryman (and, perhaps, those gathered near The Ferryman) will see it: a precarious flickering of flame behind glass. The light shrinks, and with it comes a feeling of something else retreating, too — something that you may have understood was there without realizing it, or that you may have assumed was simply another aspect of the light itself.
The bubble of safety, you realize, is receding. And when The Lantern's Light finally goes out, so too does the shield keeping you separated from the wraiths prowling the tunnels.
The darkness closes in. The Cavern's glowing plants are now the only steady source of light in the entire chamber, which allows your eyes to adjust, but only so much; it becomes difficult to make out the faces of even those standing right beside you.
It's time, so says The Ferryman. Make your decision.
follow the leader
There is no pomp or ceremony associated with The Ferryman's toll collection. You need only to be willing, and ready.
The darkness seems to shroud The Ferryman more than it does the rest of you, somehow. You can't make out the features of their face, only hear their voice bidding you to step forward when you're ready. For any of you who might need a moment, The Ferryman will wait.
A mote of light appears in The Ferryman's palms as the toll is paid, growing in proportion to the number of memories it receives. It's small, but you can feel the influence of it: that protective bubble you felt recede when The Lantern extinguished grows again around the light, just enough to envelop the group gathered here.
Time to go, says The Ferryman. And even though you can't track their movements in the darkness, the light tracks it for you: over the lip of the land bridge, and down to the black River below.
Nowhere to go but forward. When you step off yourself (even if it takes a bit of psyching up to get there), you'll find that the drop is gentle, and that your steps suspend safely over the water.
Just don't get left behind.
— HEAR A VOICE THAT CAUSES YOU PAIN
And so, you journey.
You walk on the surface of The River as if it were a wide, black road. Ahead of you, that same mote of light follows in the steps of The Ferryman, illuminating the ripples they leave in the water as breadcrumbs for you to follow. The air above The River is cold, certainly, and sometimes the icy water might splash up onto your shoes or ankles — but The River is wide, and there's room enough to walk together, even if you can't see each other well. It's as comfortable as a journey like this might ever be.
But The Crossing is a trial. You didn't forget, did you?
It starts slow: sounds from the darkness that could be voices, unless it's been dark for so long that your ears are playing tricks on you? Shouts of anger, high-pitched laughter, cries of fury and despair.
Then there are words. They beckon to you from the darkness: some plaintive, some punitive. They want you to stop. They want you to stay. They want you gone. Most of the voices are unfamiliar to you, but at least one, you know very well.
You need to keep moving. If you lose sight of The Ferryman's steps, you run the risk of being lost in the Cavern forever. Or perhaps it's someone beside you who's on the edge of losing their focus, someone who needs you to help keep them on the path?
trust your gut
The rest of you, left behind on the banks of The River, have only your wits, the contents of your pockets, and the pull of something beyond the darkness to help you on the journey. The darkness is smothering, but not completely impenetrable: you have the glow of the Cavern plants, the faint gleam of the toll group’s steps on the surface of The River, and anything you may have picked up before you got here.
You can travel together or alone, but you must move. The metaphysical pull on you is growing stronger and more insistent the longer you stay in one place, and the Cavern, before preternaturally silent and still, is beginning to stir.
The wraiths, once silent, shapeless, harmless shadows following you about the Cavern, have changed. Where before they were merely unsettling to look at, now they have become larger and more monstrous: sharp eyes and claws, wide eyes and mouths. Where before they were silent, seemingly both unable and unwilling to make any sound, now they wail: wordless cries of pain and anger giving away their positions in the darkness.
Some of them may even be familiar to you, once they get close enough; the wraiths that before had seemingly taken a liking to you, seeking you out and following you wherever you went, now seem dedicated to hunting you specifically.
What the wraiths want from you, it's hard to say. If they catch you, they will tear at you without strategy or direction, like a ravenous animal — or perhaps a terrified one.
Any injuries you sustain during this time, whether from the wraiths or otherwise, are just as real to you as they would have been when you were alive: you bleed, you break, and you feel every inch of the pain inflicted on you.
Nowhere to go but forward. If you follow the pull in your gut, you'll get to where you're going. One way or another.
on the other side
Whichever trial you've chosen, there is, eventually, the end.
You feel it first in the atmosphere: a resettling of the off-kilterness that's been surrounding you. The air slowly becomes drier, and the darkness less punishing. The plants that line the walls of the Cavern become more and more rare, their light replaced by ambient light leaking in from somewhere above you.
For the group traveling with The Ferryman, the wide expanse of The River gradually becomes shallower and narrower, until it's hardly a trickle beneath your feet, winding through the cave system. For the group traveling on their own, there comes a point where the wraiths seem unwilling or unable to follow, their shrieks in the darkness growing further and further away.
You feel it next in yourself: a smoothing of your rough edges, aches and muscle pain and physical exhaustion melting away. For any injured on the journey, your wounds resolve themselves as if natural healing on fast-forward. Natural healing is not always the cleanest or the most comfortable, though; you might be left with scars, crooked fingers or noses, or some other lasting memory of what you risked to be here.
Lastly, once The River has narrowed enough and two groups have reunited again: The Lantern relights. The Ferryman, for all that they were nearly invisible to you in the darkness, seems just the same as they were before. You made it through, they tell you, with no small amount of warmth and pride. Let's take a load off.
You should rest. If you took anything from the Cavern to help you on your journey, you'll find that it's gone from your pockets — when did that happen? Did you set it down? It's been such a long journey, it could have been a lapse of memory.
A memory? Ah, there's something else gone too, isn't there? Willingly or otherwise. If you try to reach for it now, it's like dust in the breeze, or a dream upon waking. You know it was there once, but the harder you try to recall it back, the thinner the details get. Eventually, you might not remember even that there was something to forget.
Congratulations. The Crossing is complete.
Image credits: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + stock imagery unless otherwise noted
Sunny | OMORI | With the Ferryman!
Sunny wasn’t as surprised when the Ferryman’s voice summons them. He had almost been expecting it, with the news of the Crossing given to them beforehand.
Routine. Expectance. Regulation.
These were all things that Sunny valued - things that were now going to be broken. Leaving the room that he had staked in for the past month had been hard; not because he was attached to such a place, but it meant leaving behind that small shred of comfort he had attempted to gain back.
Solidity - vulnerability - was like waking from Headspace, forced from that indomitable shell that he had created back into his own frailty. He didn’t like that feeling - not one bit.
Somehow, the teen made it to where the group gathered with the Ferryman. The flickering of the lantern - and the subsequent plunge into darkness - sent him straight back to a nightmare he had been trapped in, his subconscious forcing him through good and bad, a whiplash threatening to reveal the Truth. Except this time, there was no Truth needed - there was simply that fear and vulnerability, that pouring of his heart urging him onward. To survive.
Such an ironic thing, when one was already dead.
[Payment Comes Due]
There is a split second when Sunny hesitates. Standing with the city to his back, the Ferryman in front of him, that indecisiveness roots him in place. He didn’t want to do any of this.
But… the Ferryman had been kind. They had promised to keep him safe.
Sunny wasn’t brave or strong. He couldn’t do this by himself. He knew he couldn’t.
One step forward, then another. Over and over until he stood in front of their guide, gaze almost pleading.
“P-please…” He couldn’t get the rest out, could only hope that they knew what he meant. Take it. I give it to you. I don’t want to remember.
That small mote of light in the Ferryman’s cupped hands grew. Ah, so ironic - that a memory that could cause him so much pain looked so beautiful.
[Hear a Voice That Causes You Pain] CW: worsening panic attacks, parental abandonment, emotional abuse, fear of drowning (mentioned)
The Light guides them.
It takes a few moments for Sunny to actually be able to walk on the River. It’s surface is dark, reflected only by the mote of light, and - even once he sees everyone else start to walk and not fall in - his heart doesn’t still its uneven beat. Like something long and dark might grasp at his legs, pull him down, and never let him go.
He certainly needs help.
There are some moments, as they continue, that Sunny almost believes this journey isn’t so bad. The Ferryman is keeping them safe, the wraiths aren’t anywhere near them, and he hasn’t drowned yet so… small victories?
That’s when the voices start.
He was no stranger to the taunting of his own mind, the laughter (crude though it may be) of unfamiliar tones, the mocking…
Except for the one voice he didn’t expect to hear.
’You are not my son. You believe you have any right to move forward after what you did?!’
That baritone, normally so calm, sharp as an axe’s swing. The teen hadn’t heard it for four years, not since that man had left. No, no, no, no…
He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to move forward, didn’t deserve to forget-
His heartbeat racing, Sunny covered his ears. A sensation like falling, despite standing still, the River a mirror to his own shadowed reflection. He couldn’t breathe - knew by now that it didn’t matter, but it did - as his lungs contracted painfully.
Help.
You don’t deserve it.
[The Other Side]
When the Ferryman’s lantern flickers to life again, Sunny can’t even be relieved.
A deep weariness encompasses him. So much so that he wanted to lay down and not move forward the rest of his time here.
Rest. Right.
Yet the shirt that Kel had gotten him and the Captain Spaceboy comic were both gone (at least he had kept his old clothes on underneath). Had he forgotten them? Left them back in his room? He could no longer recall…
what?
What had he been so afraid of? A tone, muddied like it was beneath water, before it faded. Oh, there was nothing at all that he missed then.
Yet, while others may have slept, Sunny stays up for as long as his own body will allow, drawing in his notebook. Forgetting that it was public, maybe not even caring, the images dark and indiscernible: a flame, long strands like kelp, an axe, a lone tree…
[Wildcard]
(Want something else? Feel free to plot in my DMs or on Plurk, or we can just wing it ^^)
The Other Side
Blood stains still cover his clothes by the time he gets up and starts looking for the other two- not the best sight but at the same time he has no other clothes and running around shirtless feels... tasteless in a place like that.
Why is he even trying that hard? For a moment, a short flash, he tells himself 'that's what he'd do' but the thought comes and goes with a blink, leaving Kel merely confused on where said feeling may even come from. It lingers, it almost hurts, but it slips away before he can even try to hold onto it.
Huh... weird. He pushes it to the side when he spots Sunny, though. Ah- one of the two, and he's still in one piece.]
There you are...
[He stops, crouching in front of Sunny and, at least for now, ignoring the notebook.]
See? Told you I'd come as well. How are you holding up, buddy?
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And then Kel’s voice hits his ears. Sunny’s sole gaze, haunted, focuses on his friend. Recognition sets in after a few seconds, followed by the start of a panic at the sight of blood on the other’s shirt.]
K-Kel…
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No. Thank you but no.
He raises his hands just a little, trying to focus too much on Sunny's almost aggressive movements against the paper.]
All in one piece, see? My clothes look way worse than me, promise! What about you? I heard you all had a rough time.
CW: mentions of blood
At least Kel would have the muscles to go Tarzan style. Sunny would just get pneumonia or something.Looking Kel over, it didn’t look like the other had any injuries. If that was the case… then who or what’s blood was-?
A sudden flash, blood on wood, the memory having Sunny turning a shade paler.
He couldn’t bring himself to ask, gaze wandering back down to his notebook… which was now scratched out. If Kel tried to meet his gaze, he was definitely avoidant. He didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.]
All… in one piece… [Physically maybe. The Ferryman had kept their word. Mentally was a whole other story.]
cw: mention of deep wounds
Perks of being dead: no pneumonia for the boyIt totally was Kel's blood, his wounds just... closed. But he had no interest in sharing any of that until everyone had another meeting, nor until he was more mentally stable as well.
As goodas he was at putting up a mask, the still very resh memory of being torn apart was... there. He couldn't push it to she side, not now, even if he did his best to keep track of Sunny's condition and swallow his own emotions.
The tense smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes at all.]
One piece is... a good start.
[Better than Kel, he pretty much left bits of his own body... behind. The teen couldn't help but shiver at the idea before sitting down in front of Sunny. Focus on what you can do for them, Kel.]
If you need to talk about anything I can listen, okay? ['Not' talking was what killed them both in the end, after all.] And if you need distractions I can... try to provide?
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or lack there of, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.]Mmmm. [A non-committal noise. Not sure if he would be able to say anything, Sunny’s gaze trailed back down to the mangled drawings. At least his eye patch had stayed? Since it was made from Kel’s shirt upon arrival, it hadn’t faded, but his new shirt… was no where to be seen. A hot splash of guilt settled in his stomach - Kel had worked really hard to get that shirt, and now Sunny was (thankfully) back to his old clothing.]
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Kel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself down. Anxiety was there, he couldn't hide it in any way, he could just... control it.]
Mh... [And here he thought he,Mari and Sunny were making some small progress. But he could understand the silence...] Do you want me to stay or leave you in peace for now? If you don't feel liek talking I can sit by. Or look at you write or draw, whatever you prefer... just- know we still got each other's back, mh?
[And thank god the eye patch was still there, orange and bright. They had to adapt with whatever they could find.... every time they stopped in a place, huh?]
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He… honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted. He knew he didn’t want to be alone, but also forcing Kel to sit here with him seemed… wrong. The other probably had to be beyond exhausted, right? And what about all that blood-
Nope. Can’t think about that.
The only signs of acknowledgement were small: the slightest inclination of his head, and one of his hands reached out for Kel’s shirt. A tiny tug - stay - and then he was letting go.
A bit of fear seemed to make it back into his countenance when Kel mentioned the drawings; Sunny’s gaze flitted down to the page… and all of them were scratched out. That fact seemed to relieve some of his tension.
Even if, if one looked hard enough, the outline of some of the entries were still visible.](no subject)
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Hear A Voice That Causes You Pain (You Knew this was Coming Sunny)
She didn't move faster than he would like, although she did try to keep them at pace with the rest of the group should he lag behind. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when they were walking across the water- surely this was as bad as it got?
She was wrong. Once the voices started, she tried to pick them out- only recognizing the one as their Father's. Surely Sunny heard the same lecture as her? When she had gotten injured he had been there as well... so the words she was hearing wouldn't hurt him?
How wrong she was. The longer she listened- she really tried not too but with the constant repeating of the phrases she found herself focusing harder- the more she could pick out little things. She froze- noticing that as she listened to her lecture, there was another set of phrases overlapping with hers. The same voice- their Father- and yet these are words she'd never heard before. And they tore at her heart... they must have been from after she'd...
No... I tore us apart... and Sunny... Whatever panic she might have felt was pushed down as she suddenly embraced him.
"Don't listen to him... it's not your fault... it never was..." I'm right here... and this time, I'm not leaving...
(Of course XD)
Sunny was afraid of many things. The past, their present, the unknown…
And normally Mari’s presence at his back, her long strands of hair floating into view as she embraced him, would have sent him into a panic.
If only because he didn’t deserve to be comforted. He didn’t deserve her kindness at all. He had—She couldn’t have known, and yet her words were a lifeline. Something he hung onto through their overlapped scoldings, one full of disappointment and the other abandon. His shaky hands reached up to grab hold of her arms, still wrapped around him.
“H-Help…” he could barely choke out the word. How wrong he was, to ask for help from his own sister, after he had- (and he knew this to be true, his father’s voice echoed it, skipping a few syllables, simply so the full Truth wasn’t there. Only for Sunny to know, like stabbing him through.
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She was torn between staying here with him, letting him breathe, but the longer they stayed the further they would be from the rest of the group. Still... she didn't rush. Standing there, embracing him and murmuring what comforting words she could remember, trying to use her voice to block out the words their father spoke... Her voice was soft, gentle as she whispered the question. "If its ok with you, I'm going to carry you ok? We can't get left behind, but only if you are ok with it..."
After all, thanks to the intervention of a few of their group, her and Sunny had been working towards getting back to what could be considered a normal relationship. But she wanted to work with him, let him choose when he would allow her to help. After all, a bridge had two sides...
I don’t have the icon for this T.T Needs to get on that
He wanted to refuse her offer but… he wouldn’t be able to walk by himself. He knew that. Not with the way his limbs were shaking. So he nodded against her shirt, climbing to piggyback against her like he had when they both were younger. His limbs hung almost loosely in contrast to where his arms gripped tight, like the energy was rapidly leaving.
He hated this. Hated that she had to take care of him, hated that he had to rely on her, when he didn’t deserve any of it.
Sunny’s thoughts truly were a whirlpool, spurred on only by their father’s harsh words and his own deceiving silence.]
CW: mention of potential drowning
Remember that time at the lake? We would all go swimming there... well... Hiro and Kel especially... [She couldn't see her brother's reactions to she took subtle body language changes as his way of communicating during her story.] You would always sit by the water and mostly read books... and the rest of us would occasionally play in the water... but that day... you had decided to come and try to play with the rest of us...
[A small smile appeared on her face and she continued forwards, every once in a while shifting Sunny so she wouldn't drop him.]
I was so proud of you... you took that step on your own... and even though things didn't go as planned... you still attempted... and that's what mattered. [She tried not to shudder at the fact that if she had been a moment later... well... she supposed they still ended up here anyways but she couldn't bear the thought of something happening to him.]
CW: arachnophobia mention
Sunny wasn’t sure when that had all changed. If it was before the Incident or after.
Her praise was misplaced though. Sure, he had worked up a shred of courage and climbed the stone they had used as a diving point, but what had forced him into the water - ultimately - was a spider he had noticed on his shoulder.
The dark body, with multiple legs and eyes staring at him, too close… it still made him shudder. He craned his head to make sure it hadn’t followed him here, either.
Another flinch, as their father’s voice echoed disappointment at Mari and that same hollow anger at Sunny.]
Re: CW: arachnophobia mention
I know it still seems scary... I was scared I would lose you... but ultimately... what's important is that you took that step. Even if it was small... you still made progress... and those little steps are what makes up life. We try new things, succeed, fail, discover we had a talent for something new...
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If only it had been a step of progress. Instead, it had turned out more a flop of failure.He found himself nodding automatically at her words. Not that he could agree with her, deep down, but an acknowledgment that he had heard.
If that was what had made up Life, Sunny wondered what she would say made up Death…?]
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Wrapped
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It's only after some time in the light that he pries himself to his aching feet, finally working his way past the bank of the river and observing the others around. Those who did not follow the Ferryman's light are a concern, but still feeling the echoes of the journey...
At first he leaves Sunny to himself, estimating that the boy may appreciate the quiet, but when he opens the notebook at long last and, past the pages of back-and-forth, sees the drawings there, he finally closes it again and makes a slow approach. The shoreline is difficult to avoid making sound on, and Celehar isn't trying to hide his presence as he angles himself not to come in on Sunny's blind spot. "May I join you?" he asks, quiet and gravelly as always.
Comfortable Silence buddy!
or maybe from the harsh, dark scratches that were starting to cover up the drawings themselves.Celehar’s approach might not have been silent, but it still took the elf’s voice reaching him (that comfortable cadence that spoke to a deeper level in Sunny himself) for the teen to look up. His sole eye was dark, darker than its natural color, but some recognition lit up at the sight of the other.
The teen nodded, silent, drawn more into himself than their last meeting but… it was an acceptance. Celehar’s presence was welcome, even now.
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He doesn't watch Sunny, remembering the near-silent nerves shown in front of the makeshift shrine, an interaction that was not so long ago and yet feels strangely removed from this current moment. Stillness has not always been his preferred method of processing the trials he's faced, but he maintains it here, waiting, just in case Sunny might break it himself.
But, given a few minutes (seconds? hours?) Celehar speaks up again, in his rough, solemn voice. "What are you drawing?"
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He froze a bit at the question though… not because it intruded. Simply because he had to look to see what he had scribbled - and then scratched out.
“Bad memories…” There was something in the way his gaze shifted away from the page, away from Celehar… they were things he would have rather not drawn. But his father’s voice in that cavern - saying what? Sunny couldn’t recall now, and that thought was almost terrifying and freeing in equal measures - had prompted a fixation on certain remembrances.
Instead, he turned to a new page, ignoring the scratched out pictures, and started doodling a black cat.
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He threaded his fingers together, looking down at his hands.
"Do you regret paying the toll?"
CW: brief implication of past suicidal ideation
The elf’s words gave him pause; he stopped half-way through coloring the cat on the page. Did he… regret it? If given any choice in the world, Sunny would have simply wanted to just stay in that room back in the city. To what purpose, aside from his own false sense of safety? But… the Ferryman had said that he could only move forward.
Sunny hated change, but still he continued to move. If that fact wasn’t true, even during those four years he had isolated himself in his room, then he could have taken another way out. Instead… he kept living.
Finally, Sunny shook his head gently. “No…” No, he didn’t regret Crossing. They had to - there was no other option. “It was scary… but Ferryman kept their promise.”
A full sentence, something he could surprisingly get out without a cough, dry as his throat was. They didn’t need water here, but the trek had left him parched anyway. He was still hesitant to drink from the inklings of the River, though.
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Instead, he finds himself letting the silence stretch not for the boy, but to ruminate on that answer. "You're right - if their word was ever in question, it's been proven fair now." Celehar didn't expect it to be a lie, but given the obstinance of some who made the long journey on their own...
"I am afraid the experience will be fraught, whatever path is taken. But..." he quiets again. "To act is no easy burden."
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Nothing new there.
‘To act is no easy burden,’ though… Celehar was right.
Sunny’s attempts at drawing switched to writing. He didn’t trust his voice beyond what he had said already. Writing was always easier.
They said we could only move forward. I wonder… what happened to the city?’
He didn’t expect Celehar to have those answers, but Sunny could help think of the small shrine the other had set up. Would it still be there, awaiting a new batch of arrivals? Or did nothing beyond their present exist?
Existentialism at its finest. Sunny’s thoughts ran deep when he couldn’t reach his surface level comforts.(no subject)
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