The Crossing Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecrossingmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
no subject
That's it, Sunny-kun. Just like that!
[Walking slowly forward, he never stopped making sure he never walked too far from Sunny. As they walked slowly, Makoto brimmed with excited energy, feeling so proud of his friend.]
You're doing so good, Sunny-kun!
no subject
Still, the pure encouragement with which Makoto’s voice was brimming with had Sunny taking another step.
Grateful for the darkness, as his ears burned in embarrassment. It… wasn’t something to be praised, right? Sunny wasn’t doing anything more than taking a few steps. Anyone else could do that, and yet…
It was progress. Sunny normally wouldn’t have gone anywhere near a body of water as big as this. But the fact that Makoto was being kind enough to support him…
He became painfully aware of the fact that they were moving slower than the light, getting further from it. All because of Sunny. His fault. His voice came out in a whisper.]
S-sorry…
no subject
There's nothing to be sorry about, Sunny-kun! You are scared, right? It takes a lot to face those fears. And so soon! I'm not just saying these things as empty platitudes. You're doing great.
[If the light left without them, then Makoto would just have to lead Sunny to safety himself. He wasn't going anywhere without him]
I won't leave you behind. So don't be worried. I'll stay with you for as long as you need me!
[He continues walking, gently humming when they stopped talking. He really was so proud of Sunny.]
Just one step at a time, okay? It'll be over before you know it!
CW: brief flashback to death (Makoto is so kind T.T <3)
A dark room. The moon’s reflection glinting off metal. Pain.
-a tremble ran through him, but Sunny held on all the tighter to Makoto’s grasp.
One step at a time. Right. He could do that.
As Makoto began to hum-]
W-what song…?
[Something to distract him would be good. So his mind wasn’t on the way his feet hit the water beneath them, ripples extending outward.]
And your Sunny is so lovable!
Oh nothing special, just a-!
[As the memories flicker through his mind, he stops his words as he remembers the owner of the song. It was one of Sayaka's older songs, one of her first ones, before she became the SHSL Pop sensation. With a sad smile that was hidden in the darkness, Makoto finished his words.]
...A song a dear friend used to sing.
[He couldn't help but wonder if Sayaka had to cross like this too.]
no subject
Trailing behind Makoto for a few more silent steps, his whisper came out apologetic again.]
…didn’t… hear it… before… S-sorry…
[He had just caused Makoto to remember something unpleasant hadn’t he? Guilt churched in Sunny’s stomach. He truly was awful.]
no subject
What are you sorry about, Sunny-kun? You just asked a totally normal question. I don't mind.
[Sure it hurt to think of her but it would hurt more to ignore her presence in his life. And death.]
Never feel ashamed to ask me anything. Even if it's hard, know that I will never reject you.
[Offering a warm smile to the darkness around where he knew Sunny was, he turned back and continued humming the song. This time louder so Sunny could start humming along if he listened hard enough.]
no subject
…It was all his fault.
Makoto’s well-meaning words caused Sunny to freeze, his footsteps stopping abruptly. It wasn’t because of the water now.
How could Makoto put such faith in him? It was only because…] …you don’t know…
[Right, if Makoto knew the truth, he wouldn’t want to be near Sunny. No matter what the other teen promised, it would all fade if he found out…]
no subject
[Makoto stops walking at the abrupt stop, and turns again to look at Sunny's location. Did he say something wrong?]
I don't know what, Sunny-kun?
no subject
And yet those very feelings had the words that Sunny wanted to say clog up in his throat.
‘I’m bad.’
‘You shouldn’t trust me.’
‘I’ve done something awful.’
None of those words could escape him. His thoughts were held back like a steel trap, the force with which almost made him nauseous.
Instead, Sunny forced himself to take a step forward.] N-nothing… [Makoto knew nothing. Sunny would say nothing. He was determined to keep it that way. Until the kiln of his sins would crack under enough pressure.]
no subject
If you're sure, Sunny-kun...Then let's go.
[Turning back around, Makoto resumed humming as they walked, trying to ignore the darkness that pressed around them.
At least until he heard a familiar giggle.]
no subject
As they strove to continue forward, the silence pressed in on him. What could he even say? He wished he could write in his notebook - that would be easier - but the dark just made it too impossible… Makoto’s continued humming put him a bit at ease, like music cutting through a scary part in a game.
And then, a giggle cut through the dark. It wasn’t one that he recognized, but Sunny froze all the same, his grip tightening on Makoto’s shirt.]
no subject
...Sunny-kun, we need to get out of here.
[He was shaking but his voice hardened in determination. If Junko was here to torment him, then he needed to get Sunny back to his sister. If he needed to fight, he needed Sunny safe.]
no subject
The shakiness he could feel from Makoto, coupled with the other’s strong voice, had his fear coming back. For Makoto to be afraid of something… it had to be bad.]
Ferryman… will protect… [His own voice was trembling, even as he agreed.]
no subject
...Sunny-kun, I'm going to start walking faster. Keep hold of me.
[With those words, he starts walking again and slowly increases his pace as they go, sweating as the giggles turned into gleeful words.]
Leaving me so soon, Naegi-kun? But we could have so much fun together!
no subject
But that voice… Sunny looked back and still couldn’t see anyone. That made his heart beat faster, fear starting to pump through him… especially when he could feel Makoto’s own hands start to sweat.
This… person knew Makoto? That was the only explanation that he could think of. They knew his name, and Makoto seemed unnerved by them being here. What… what could Sunny do to help?
He wasn’t brave or strong. Maybe for the first time, he wished he had a knife here. To fight, to flee… he wasn’t sure why. Just that it would have made him feel more secure.]
M-Makoto…
no subject
[Despite his own fear, Makoto's voice didn't tremble, feeling his own protectiveness rise at Sunny's hesitant voice. They would be fine. Even if Junko was here, Makoto would protect Sunny. Nothing would happen to him while Makoto still had a soul left.]
Just a little longer, Sunny-kun. You're doing great.
Look at you go, Naegi-kun~ Sounding so heroic!
[He bit his lip to stop a rising snarl at her words. He had to keep it together for Sunny-kun. Then he could chase his demons.]
no subject
He gave Makoto’s sleeve a quick squeeze, trying to be reassuring. Trying… and probably failing.
Sunny could at least agree with one thing - Makoto did seem pretty heroic in this moment. He was brave and strong and kind… even while facing something scary.
How much longer could this go on? They hadn’t gotten that far behind, had they? Though they could have… and it would be…]
All… my fault…
no subject
It's not. And don't worry, we'll get to Ferryman-san. We just have to hold on.
I can't wait to see your precious hope get extinguished once you realize no one's going to save you~
[Makoto nearly spits out some words back but instead increased his pace. They would be fine. He would protect Sunny. He would not lose him.]
no subject
At least, outwardly.
He also decided that he didn’t like this voice. It wasn’t being very kind towards Makoto.]
Mean… [Sunny’s frustrated mutter was directed at that voice.] Go away…
no subject
...I'm sorry, Sunny-kun. It's my fault she's here. But she won't get you. I won't let her.
[He wished he could grip Sunny's hand but instead defiantly starting humming again, this time louder, in an attempt to drown out the sounds.]
Follow my voice. Don't let go, no matter what.
no subject
Not when his own awful memory was yet to come. They all had to give up something…]Not… your fault…
[His hand gripped tighter, determined now. Even if he was scared, even if the unknown presence’s mocking was mean, Sunny would hang on. He had to, for Makoto’s sake too.]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Snt4PGh-JKI (Link to Makoto's singing voice)
YES <3
Sunny couldn’t sing, but… it started soft, just barely a tap of his finger against where Makoto’s hand clasped his. A few more moments of listening, several more taps, and he found the harmony beneath the a cappella tone.
Sunny knew music. He loved it. He hated it. A beat drilled discordantly next to his own heartbeat, existing alongside it. Like a second being.
It made him sick but… he didn’t want Makoto to have to go through this alone.]
Re: YES <3
Instead, he sung louder and walked faster, even gently swinging their joined connection slightly as they walked.]
Really? Singing her song? After she framed you for murder? How disgustingly hopeful!
[But Makoto ignored those words and continued singing as he remembered the times he had heard Sayaka sing. Especially when it was at school. Those times outshined any of the bad events in the Killing game.]
(no subject)