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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
no subject
...
I wish I could believe that. We Eldians may not deserve to live, but I can't help but wish for it regardless. My people... in their ignorance, they were so kind to me...
[She gets too choked up to continue, thinking of all the people she knew, seeing their smiling faces in front of her mind's eye. None of them deserved to be eaten by titans. While she still understands her ancestor's choices, wasn't the outcome far too cruel?]
no subject
He glanced back at Yona's voice with a silent apology. I'm sorry Yona. He closed his eyes and ignored the ache in his chest as he turned away and focused on Frieda.]
There's nothing wrong with wishing for your people's happiness. Regardless of what they did in the past, I don't believe they deserve to die, especially those who don't share the sins of their ancestors.
[It was too cruel, both for her people and for Frieda who had to carry the burden of those forgotten sins in their place. It may have been the path with the least bloodshed but it also trapped them in a prison of their own making. While he understood her ancestor's reasoning he didn't agree with it. If it had been a temporary measure until things calmed down enough in order to find a better solution, perhaps, but to keep their people ignorant for generations and doom their innocent descendants to the same fate was either incredibly shortsighted, or they willingly condemned future generations for a crime they never committed, which he couldn't condone, no matter how terrible their crimes.]
no subject
His words vindicate her heartbreak. Even after death freed her from her ancestor's will, the years guarding the memories of the world made her lose her identity to such a degree that is still feels almost blasphemous to doubt his vow of non-retaliation. Hearing Soo Won cast doubt on it makes her feel that perhaps her feelings are justified after all.]
...
Thank you for saying that. I wish... I wish I could have acted differently.
[Her voice is drenched in grief and remorse. Despite things having been as they were, she doesn't feel that she can absolve herself of responsibility, and it torments her. There's no absolution from what she did to her people - except that provided by the Crossing. If she's strong enough to walk through this pain, perhaps she'll be able to find relief in the absence of these memories.]
(cw: more akatsuki no yona spoilers)
As do I...I don't regret killing King Il but I do regret losing Hak and Yona. More than I thought I would. I thought I could discard them. My father taught me to view everything as a game board and to discard the unnecessary pieces. Hesitation could lead to ruin but still, I couldn't. But I realized that too late. Even with their support which I never could have hoped for, it could never be the same. I couldn't comfort Yona when we though Hak was lost to the flood and Hak would never again be at my side.
no subject
Our loved ones are what makes the world beautiful and life worth living, aren't they? Often, we only realise that after losing them.
[At least in that regard, she was lucky - her family stood by her side until the end (and she desperately hopes that they were able to run away while she held up her accuser, their titans clashing in an uneven match of strength).]
But they survived, didn't they? Both Hak and Yona. And even though you lost their trust, they still extended their hands as allies, for the sake of your homeland. That means they must still have seen some good in you.
[It doesn't undo the sharp severance of the trio's once-close bonds, but it still holds meaning, at least in Frieda's eyes.]
no subject
I wish they didn't. I couldn't dare to hope for their understanding after what I did to them but they were at my side like I always wanted. Yet at the same time they were forever out of reach. It was unsettling.
no subject
...
Perhaps, that was your punishment.
[There's no spite or mockery in her voice. After all, if having his loved ones by his side yet estranged was his punishment, then hers was to know the horrible truth of her world while her loved ones surrounded her in blissful ignorance.]
Rather than receive it here in the afterlife, we already lived it.
no subject
Heh, it's a fitting punishment.
[And it seems it followed him to the afterlife as well and he gazed in the direction of Hak and Yona's voices with longing. Still, broken was better than not having them at his side at all. He was tired. Maybe he could just stop here, for a while at least, and he hesitantly took a step towards the voices without realizing it.]
no subject
You mustn't follow them. Leaving these memories behind is our trial.
[But how hard it is! Her countryman, too keeps calling out in a mix of despair and anger, and the urge to once more try to reason with him is strong.]
Being eaten without even understanding their ancestors' sins isn't atonement! If you won't protect the people of the Walls, I will take the powers of the Founder and end the royal bloodline!
...
no subject
Haven't we both suffered through enough trials? I'm tired. There's nothing left for me to fight for so why can't I rest?
[It wasn't supposed to be like this. All of the memories and feelings he took to his grave should have ended when he died. He never thought he would have to confront them in death.]
no subject
[If he turned into a wraith, would he not be doomed to linger? Might he not chase the voices of his lost loves one to the pools in the catacombs after their echo subsides at the end of the Crossing? Granted, that's merely an unstable hypothesis, but the prospect is no less awful.
Imagining him, who shares so much in common with her, faded into a spectre, makes her hold on to him more strongly - and right then, the sound of a lightning strike rings out from the darkness: The sound of her adversary's transformation into a titan. She tenses, half expecting to see the large, monstrous form emerge from the shadows.]
Soo Won, stay with me! Yona and Hak are still alive - you're only chasing their shadows!
no subject
Wouldn't shadows be better than not having them at all? I don't want Hak and Yona to follow me here. They can't. Kouka needs them...and I want them to be happy, even if it's without me.
[His resistance weakened as his voice grew quieter.]
I can't stand the thought of them dying but I can't let go of them either. So what choice other than their anger do I have?
no subject
[If, rather than the man who ended her life, she heard her parents' and siblings' voices calling out from the darkness, would she not want to hold on to their echoes too? But hypocritical as it is of her, she starts to pull him in the direction of the Ferryman's receding light.]
But I can't leave you behind. I'm sorry, but I-- I can't stand the thought!
[It's preposterous, she knows - who is she to get in between him and his dearest loved ones? But, having run out of rational arguments, she can only express her own feelings at this point.]
no subject
Why can't you stand it? I wouldn't hesitate to cut you down if you stood in the way of my goals just like I heartlessly trampled the two people I treasure most! So why?
no subject
[Oh - now she's betrayed herself, hasn't she? But admitting that she sees herself in him would hardly be a convincing reason, given how miserable they both are, and she quickly pivots, holding on to him decisively.]
Do you think Yona and Hak would want you to get lost in the darkness? I act on their behalf!
[Her conviction resounds in her words. After what he told her about them and their integrity of character, she truly does believe that those two would be aggrieved if they knew that Soo Won became a lost wraith in the afterlife.]
no subject
His shoulders drooped as his resistance faded. His chest ached as he turned away from Hak and Yona's voices.]
No, they wouldn't.
[He couldn't bring himself to fight against that. Well played. He felt a bit of bitterness at Frieda exploiting his weakness, even if she was right. He buried his frustration and pain behind his iron will as he started to walk toward the receding light, although there was a sharp hint in his voice.]
Lets go.
no subject
Exhaling in relief, she hurries to keep up with him, a quiet shadow by his side that doesn't reach out to take his hand, but is ready to latch on to him again the moment he wavers - not that she expects him to, given the resolve in his stride.
But she saw the pain in his expression. It must be incredibly difficult for him, and while it's not a loved one she's turning her back on, she still also struggles to accept the outcome of her confrontation with her countryman, a man who begged her for help and desperately tried to reason with the unrelenting will she inherited.
Much as it aggrieves her that she couldn't withstand her ancestor's ghost and save her people, she at least won't have to blame herself for having failed to save Soo Won.]
do you want to wrap this one up soon?
🎀
They may not speak more as the procession completes its journey to where the river trickles away and becomes a rivulet, but their unexpected commonalities may have irrevocably changed the way they see each other.]