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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
2/2
King of the Walls!
...
[She swallows and lowers her eyes. Hopefully, she'll be able to just endure if quietly.]
Re: 1/2 and 2/2, hope its ok I put both replies here
King of the Walls?
She glanced over to see her friends reaction, which caused her to grasp the girl's hand and give a reassuring squeeze.]
"You ok?"
Of course (this is the standard, really)! ♡
Yes. It's just... these voices are hard to listen to, aren't they?
[Most of them were stress-inducing even without any context - the man threatening murder and the manically giggling girl, to name only two, sounded even less composed than the desperate man calling for her.]
Ah! Good to know! :)
[She grasped Freida's hand a bit tighter.]
But we can get through it! If I got through mine then you can get through yours!
[She looked at her friend, taking both hands in her own to convey her feelings.]
So... please let me know if there is anyway I can help... ok? [She wanted to help Freida as much as she had been helped.]
no subject
But the man didn't shut up.]
I beg you, stop the titans attacking the Walls! The people of the Walls are innocent!
...
I'm sorry, Mari, but you can't help me. What I've done is something nobody can repair.
no subject
I might not know anything about a Wall or what a Titan is... but we've all made mistakes... [She tried not to wince thinking about her own once again. Now was the time to help Freida, like she had helped her.] That's what it means to be human. It might be something that you can't fix, but you can learn from it and move forwards.
no subject
[She knew that she was starting to get unfairly terse with Mari, who had no way of knowing the scope and severity of her deeds, but the pressure of the man's urgent pleas were getting to her.]
How is getting eaten for something they don't even understand atonement?
...
I, too, got eaten by a titan, because I was unable to stop them.
[Granted, for her, it had played out differently than for her people, but this was what had happened.]
It's what we Eldians deserve for doing the same to the other human races.
no subject
That's true... The scope is vastly different... but you shouldn't have to suffer for mistakes you or others made... I might not understand, but at the end of the day. You're still my friend, regardless of what you did...
CW: War Crimes
I'm still your friend? Can you really say that? I may have been friendly to you, but does that make up for all the suffering I caused to others? Why shouldn't I suffer the consequences of what we Eldians have done?
[Realising that she wasn't even giving her a chance to understand the full situation, she volunteered the information she'd been holding back:]
Among the people of our world, we alone can take on monstrous titan forms, and we overran and enslaved the whole continent like that. So many people were killed, mutilated, raped and enslaved! We built our empire on their backs, for two-thousand years, until my ancestor put an end to it - and when the world came to take its revenge on us in our exile, I-- I did nothing to prevent it, because that'd only have led to even more deaths! Do you understand?
Re: CW: War Crimes
If it was me who did all that... I would most likely be saying the same things...
It seemed almost as if Mari was going to step away- but instead she stepped towards the other girl, pulling her in for a hug.]
"Even still... you bore that pain on your own... you did what you thought was right in the moment... and even then... repentance comes in difference forms- in the different ways that people perceive it..."
[She might not be perfect... none of them were... but still, everyone had their own sins. Their own pain that they caused others... Mari was sure- she too had caused others pain- regardless of whether she meant to or not.]
"I might be naive... I might not understand the scope of what you or your ancestors caused... but still... you did the best that you could with what you were given... taking lives and saving them... they both are burdens that no one person should have to deal with..."
no subject
Mari...
[She couldn't bring herself to hug her back. In this moment, she felt like a twisted version of Mari - outwardly, a kind and caring older sister like her, but in reality something much more sinister, barely even human anymore until the end of her life, a vessel for a horrible power and an ancestral will much stronger than her. Her voice sounded choked up when she finally responded.]
You... you're right. No one person should have to decide over so many lives.
[She really meant that. It simply wasn't right. And yet, she still felt conflicted, even now that King Karl wasn't steering her mind anymore. After all, her people would doubtlessly have refused to sacrifice themselves, had they not been kept in ignorance, and their resistance would have bred more war, more deaths, more suffering.
Even so, did they deserves this end? She simply couldn't bring herself to agree with it.]
no subject
No they- you shouldn't have to. That's why we are here now. If you'll let us, help relieve some of that burden.
[She knew that the others in their group were kind and caring individuals as well, and surely would be more than happy to help assist Freida.]
It'll take time... but then again, it seems we have quite a while till our journey ends... so let's try to make the best of it, ok?
no subject
How would you make the best of something like this... of having died with so much blood on your hands? Ever since I inherited the truth of my world, I've been trying to repent for my people's deeds, but... the end, it was just too cruel.
[Or was it? Given the breach of Wall Maria, she knew that there'd have been a terrible death toll among her people, but hadn't she been among the first to die?]
The man who took my life in his titan form, the one who is calling, inherited my powers and knowledge, but he won't be able to use the former. If only... if only he could save everyone...
[It was a futile wish, she knew that, yet she couldn't help but express it. From the darkness, the man called:]
Over the generations, my Attack Titan has always defied the will of the Founder! It can something that even the Founder can't do: It can see the future.
no subject
In the end all we can do is hope. Pray that future generations will learn from the mistakes of the past and look towards a brighter future… We can only do what we can in the time we were given after all…
[She hoped she was saying the right words. After all, this was much bigger than her small town mentality.]
no subject
My people didn't learn over the course of two-thousand years. They only became peaceful after they had their memories taken from them. Now that I failed to safeguard that knowledge, there are only two outcomes... either the Walls will fall, and nothing will remain, or my people will survive and bring suffering over the world again.
...
I want them to live, but it's too selfish. That's why my ancestor passed his will on to his successors. That's why I didn't stop the titans when they came for us.
no subject
That might be true… but new paths can also open up. And what one person considers selfish is what another considers selfless… You’ve done all you can for your world, now you have to trust that those left behind will persevere, just as you did.
no subject
In the end, the future would be written by the survivors - and maybe the man who inherited her memories would be among them.]
...
Letting go of it all is hard. I wish I could have done better by everybody. However, you're right... I can't do anything for any of them anymore.
no subject
[If anything, this Crossing had shown her just how important it was to lean on others for support. In her daily life, she had shouldered all the burdens that she could, pretended they didn't exist... but now, she could rely on others as well.]
no subject
Frieda still mightn't feel deserving of Mari's support, but with the other girl remaining unwavering by her side, she finally took her hand. If they held on to each other, perhaps they'd be able to make it through this journey together - or at least through this first Crossing.]