thecrossinglogs | TEST DRIVE #2

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TEST DRIVE #2

TDM #2

Welcome to The Desert, wayward souls.
It's good to see you again.

The TDM is game canon and will be active FEB—APR. For further details about the setting, please reference our current setting page. All the information there is fair game for this TDM.

arrival

— BENEATH THE RIVER ( NEW CHARACTERS ONLY )
CW: claustrophobia, being buried alive
If your journey is starting here, you begin as all others have, and all others will: in The River.

You awake in the dark and the damp, with pressure all around you. In this case, however, it isn't water that surrounds you— but earth. Specifically, it is mud made from the sand of the desert and the standing water of the sparkling white salt flat that The River has become, and it behaves like quicksand. It has you here, and it doesn't want to let go.

You aren't in any direct danger; you may or may not notice that you don't need to breathe down here (or at all). But that may be difficult to appreciate in the moment: immediately on waking, you are seized by what was perhaps your last memory— or, at least, the somatic feeling of it. Panic, terror, pain; or (depending on the circumstances) maybe peace, or relief. It is the moment of your death as told by your body's visceral, emotional response, and it won't stop until you pull yourself out of the mud.

You are close to the surface. Even a bit of lucky thrashing might be enough for you to break through the sludge, and crack the shell of salt above. But The River will not release you easily; it will continue to suck you back down until you are able to fully pry yourself free— or someone else is able to lend you a hand.

— BEYOND THE RIVER ( EXISTING CHARACTERS ONLY )
If you arrived here from the Cavern, you'll find that the cave you came from opens up onto a rocky cliff face, not unlike the one you may have found yourself settled in before The Crossing. From here you can see the sprawl of the Desert ahead of you: the Oasis tucked against the base of the cliffs, the endless dunes, and the wide, white expanse of The River — though it hardly looks like one now.

There is no city to be found among these cliffs, though. They are steep and rocky, with dry, loose sand making finding and keeping traction difficult. There is a narrow, winding path to the Oasis below, but it will take time to hike, and the sun is already hot and oppressive above you.

Theoretically, there's a more direct route... if you're feeling bold. The cliffs are covered in jutting striations (as if, say, carved by a massive river, or maybe a River) that make halfway decent handholds and footholds for anyone hoping to climb their way down instead.

Just don't change your mind too much. If you turn back, you may find that the path behind has become impassable or now leads somewhere else entirely. You don't ever see it happening, but it's almost as if the cliffs are rearranging themselves whenever your back is turned.

shelter from the storm

— THE OASIS
The Oasis, as well as the rest of the surrounding Desert, is bustling with life. (Or do plants and animals have a Journey they need to complete, too?) It's a green, if not lush, patch surrounding a small lake of fresh water, partially shielded by the arms of the cliffs from the winds blowing across the dunes.

There are creatures besides you making their homes here: from small, skittering mammals to circling scavengers. If you look closely, though, you'll find it's a bit of a mishmash, as if an ecosystem appeared rather than developed... and, depending on where you're from, some of it might even be recognizable to you.

Those of you that came from the Cavern might appreciate the return of natural light, though you might be disappointed to discover that day and night don't always arrive at the cadences you might expect them to... In fact, they don't seem to follow any recognizable or even trackable pattern at all. Some noon suns stretch on forever; some sunsets speed run straight into dry, cold night.

If that were all the unpredictability the Desert had to offer, it might be tolerable enough... but the weather proves to be just as erratic. One day is clear and bright, with wide-open skies; the next brings dust clouds and lightning storms rolling in from the dunes. (And when today might be half as long as yesterday, those swings add up.)

Luckily for all of you, there have evidently been others here before you, just like in the Cavern. There is a collection of shelters lining the Oasis, no more than huts designed to keep everyone within as cool as possible. There's less space than there was in the Subterranean City, but that means some things are easier to find... The huts are decorated just like the city was before it, as if in layers with the odd familiar trinket from your home stashed in a drawer or under a mattress.

shifting sands

— THE DUNES
The Ferryman is holding vigil at The River, as they always are. They have positioned themselves (and their Lantern) so that their Light casts over the Oasis— but that aura can only cast so far.

The Lantern's Light might not be quite so obvious here as it was down in the Cavern, drowned out as it is by the desert sun, but you can still feel when you approach the edge of its protection, the way the sense of comfort and safety wanes. Beyond it are the rolling dunes of the Desert, where wraiths gather in great numbers.

Those who have been paying close attention will recognize that these are not the same wraiths you encountered in the Cavern. Or, at least, none of the wraiths you encountered in the Cavern are represented here.

These wraiths are not the violent, wailing beasts encountered by some during The Crossing. They are just the same as the wraiths originally found in the Cavern: silent, insubstantial, and always watching. The ones who have found the Oasis prowl the edge of the boundary; the others wander the dunes as if lost. Or, perhaps, searching.

If you, yourself, wander the dunes, you'll find them at best difficult to navigate— or, at worst, impossible. You may be swallowed by a sand storm, or lose sight of your landmarks when descending into a valley between the dunes. You might find yourself somewhere you never expected to be... Or, you might just need to send a message out to the others for help finding your way home.

code

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The early misery of heat and wind, after such a harrowing trip down the cliffs, is enough to drive Celehar towards the shelters not long after arriving at the oasis. He didn't even climb down the cliff, but even after resting at the edge of the River-turned-flats, the climb had left him physically weary, ready to retreat for a time.

And so he'd had the same thought as Nagito - the abrupt change in lighting and the young man's efforts to tuck himself away mean that Celehar has moved more than a few steps into the space by the time his eyes adjust and he registers the slumped shape in the corner.]

Oh - my apologies.

[That, too, he says, before he realizes that he must have interrupted his rest, already taking a few steps back towards the entrance and bowing his head slightly in apology.]

[When Nagito wakes there's a brief expression of flat assessment and calculation before he realizes where he is and what situation he's in (in the desert, dead) and relaxes again. The odds of Celehar attacking him seem pretty low, so he doesn't have any particular need to be ready to spring right now. Instead, he stretches. He hasn't tied off the sleeve of his hoodie, so it just flops over as he raises his arm. It seems like his flesh ends just a little below the eblow.]

You don't need to apologize on my account! It isn't as if this is my bedroom or anything. [Though he'll probably end up using it as temporary accommodations.] It's important to search every building thoroughly, after all.

[Between the passage of time and the nap, you could almost believe Nagito didn't have a loud, dramatic episode just a few hours ago with how he looks now.]

[Indeed, Celehar has nothing that might be mistaken for a weapon, and has lifted his hands in a more peaceful gesture. His attention catches on the sleeve, and the prosthetic - the concept is familiar from his time in Amalo, if not the intricacy of the replacement, so his attention slides over it, to instead focus on Nagito's face.

The voice is familiar, somewhat, from the crossing - it did echo, just as the others did. But Celehar doesn't ask.]

Is it? With the light, I had not thought to anticipate threats within them. Nevertheless - I did not mean to disturb your rest after so harrowing an ordeal.

Oh, I was thinking more about looking for information. But since this desert has animals, we probably shouldn't discount scorpions in bedsheets or shoes, either! [He says this so cheerfully. Nagito didn't take off his shoes and has no bedsheets, though, so these are purely theoretical suggestions.] Overcoming an ordeal like that can only make everyone reach even more strongly toward hope, so I have a good feeling about things!

Information can wait, until everyone has recovered.

[The undercurrent there, from Celehar's own experience and his observation of those coming out of it... even with the memory faded, he thinks that most came through it worn. Even this young man - before he turned on the beaming smile, the exhaustion had seemed clear to Celehar.

Then again, he's a stick in the mud. Perhaps that's simply his own world-weariness speaking. The youth that surround him may simply be more resilient than he.]

I hope you are right.

Ah - my apologies, mer. My name is Thara Celehar.

I'm Komaeda Nagito. [He bobs his head in a quick bow, then tugs the sleeve of his hoodie up to put his arm back on. The scarring at the end is neat and professional, but there are rougher, angrier scars above it. Nagito doesn't seem concerned by any of them.] Should I call you Thara-san or Celehar-san? There are so many worlds here, it's hard for someone like me to keep track.

Celehar.

[The casual nature of Nagito putting his arm back on takes Celehar aback, an emotion reflected in the subtle twitch of his ears. He is by no means an expert on the subject, but his impression of prosthetics is that there's a production of straps and buckles involved. This seems like a work of impressive maz, or clockwork, and his attention lingers on that - but the scars, too, catch his attention, stored away for the moment in his memory.]

And yourself? I believe it is obvious [Being one of the only elves here, and all] but I find many here to be strange, as well as strangers.

Komaeda. But I really don't mind either! There aren't many people from Japan here at all. [Just Naegi-sama and himself, as far as he knows. Nagito is clearly practiced in putting on his prosthetic arm, doing it without much thought. There's a liner with electrodes inside, slid on like a sock, and then the mechnical limb itself which slides on top and locks in with a few audible clicks. He wiggles his fingers, testing the connection.]

It's interesting how different everyone here is, don't you think? I wonder if having fewer reference points for everyone else's memories makes things easier when we're hearing them all.

[Judging from Celehar's understanding but uncomprehending nod at 'Japan,' he's almost certainly not an unusual-looking addition to that lineup. He takes a few steps back, closer towards the entrance, but watches in muted fascination as Nagito attaches the prosthetic and the fingers move. It truly is a marvel of clockwork.]

I wonder at that. [His voice is gravely as he speaks. It's hard to recall the events of the Crossing in enough clarity to make an estimation, but...] I do see it that our own memories would be... the primary force occupying our attention.

I have less of an understanding of "King of the Walls", for example. And someone calling your name isn't as important as if it was someone calling my name. [Less of an understanding, less important, but Nagito remembers a little bit of everything, except for his own lost memory. If he's bringing up Celehar's memory specifically just to see how he reacts, that's simply information gathering.]

[The memory is gone, now - he has, in some degree, a thought of what was given up, a memory of the request for a toll. But the emotion, the pain of it, is gone, leaving only the empty space where the grief once crushed him down. Celehar's attention shifts back towards Nagito's face, but for all the faint frown of consternation, there's none of the flinch or anger of a raw nerve being struck.]

No, I suppose it wouldn't be. [He pauses.] Have you spoken to Osmin Reiss?

[An interesting reaction--clearly Celehar understands what Nagito is implying by bringing up his name, but it doesn't bring any emotional reaction or outburst. The memory loss really is very clean! Now, as for Osmin Reiss...] Ah, Frieda-san? [Should he be calling her Reiss-san? Well, that's maybe not the point right now.] Yes, we've spoken before. We had a bit of a disagreement over the nature of giving up memories.

[They had an argument at the group meeting everyone had before the first Crossing. Nagito is in the "we don't deserve to give up some memories" camp. It's his camp, he pitched the tent himself.]

[Ah, yes - a meeting that Celehar attended, if only to give his piece about needing to give up memories, in his own quiet but insistent way. The memory has him pressing his lips together.

Perhaps it's irrelevant in the end, or at least not worth bringing the argument up - after all, Nagito clearly did give up a memory, in the end. And given the stubborn nature of those who did attempt the Crossing on their own, Celehar has to imagine they would have done so, whether swayed or not. But - Celehar can't help being a touch stubborn, himself.]

And has Crossing changed your mind?

No. [His smile is unflinching as he says it, and so is his confidence in his statement.] I think experiencing a Crossing helps my argument, if anything! Surely the others don't deserve to be subjected to all of our memories.

[At least, surely they don't all deserve that.]

[There's not really many places to settle in this little hut, but Celehar finds a small, wobbly stool, and lowers himself onto it with a breath out, settling in. Some instinct of his is clocking here, though he's not sure what - so he may as well follow it, and listen, as he has been trained.]

But the impact is lessened, as you said - lacking context for it all.

True, but there are exceptions, you know? [Nagito seems content to continue sitting on the floor to have this conversation.] I'm sure there are worlds beyond the imagining of someone like myself where this might not apply, but certainly some kinds of violence bother most people here. And then there are situations such as Mari-san and Sunny-kun, where they share a world and a voice as well.

[But then he shrugs, casual, as if this were only an academic exercise.] Of course, if it were simply a matter of overcoming adversity together, sharing awful memories would be good for everyone! But in the end the person who the memories mattered to loses them entirely. Spreading your misery to other people while getting escape it yourself, that's not hopeful behavior at all.

[And there's a difference between encouraging people to get involved in adverse situations in the name of hope and spreading despair. Nagito won't do the latter, even if he might be the only one who understands where and how he draws that line.]

It is not so dissimilar to dying.

[Celehar folds his hands, considering the state of them as he chooses his words carefully, the fabric of his long black coat swallowing him.]

The dying live through the pain and the suffering that leads to their death - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. But when they are gone, it is those left behind who carry that pain, still.

[He sighs.]

It is perhaps not fair. But it is dying - and we are still dying, in a way. And a burden borne for a friend... perhaps it is not so heavy as the one we must carry ourselves.

Do you think there's a limit to that? [Nagito leans in a little, eyes bright and curious.] Surely there are some things nobody else should have to bear for anyone but themselves.

There are. [Celehar concedes that, and looks up to see that bright-eyed expression, and watches Nagito in return. Maybe he senses the possibility of debate, because he doesn't back down from it.]

If this were our fate to bear the burden alone, would we not be alone, ourselves? I find it more likely that it is a kinship of circumstance that brings us together.

Or maybe it's a test. There are plenty of stories about having to prove worthy of the afterlife. Maybe we'll all be weighing our hearts against feathers at the end of all of this. [Though Nagito knows it's very unlikely Celehar's world happens to conveniently contain Egyptian myths, he thinks if nothing else it's a fitting metaphor for this conversation.] You said there are limits, but you didn't tell me what they are.

If it is a test, then did we not just endure the first?

[Ah - called out. Celehar sighs, resettling in his seat.]

A voice, while haunting, is not one of the things I would find too much. But to live the life of another... [He trails off.] To witness, to feel, the death of another. I would not foist that on one unwilling.

But not the last! [Or they'd be wherever they're going already, surely.] How long do you think we'll be able to avoid memories like those?

[He obviously considers it an inevitability, the same way he views a lot of terrible things as inevitabilities.]

I do not know.

[Celehar admits that - reluctantly, though not begrudgingly. He's known since he came face to face with the Ferryman that while he knows of ghosts and ghouls, he is just as lost as the rest.]

But there are many things that keep us tethered to life... not all of them painful.

That's true. Foisting good memories on the unwilling is a little different, though, right? Unless they're really intimate. That might be embarrassing! [Though Nagito seems entertained by the idea, at least in the abstract.] Still, maybe Ferryman-san will ask for a good memory next time, to even it out.

[Of all things that breaks Celehar's composure, his ears abruptly dropping down in a horrified realization. He very quickly masters his expression again, locking away whatever thought had just occurred to him - when he speaks again, he is doing his best at a neutral, unbothered tone.]

Whatever speculation we make, it will be supplanted by the truth of the matter, when we learn of the next Crossing. These are only possibilities, after all.

[The true problem with his fair skin is how terribly it shows the faintest hint of a flush.]

A! Shelter

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