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

[Sunny finds Celehar standing at the edge of the Lantern’s light, looking outwards into the desert. Looking at the Wraiths. He’s too far away to hear the elf’s words, but something like worry knots itself between his ribs.

Almost automatically, without further thought, he makes his way towards the other, grabbing the back of the man’s jacket. A gentle tug - like he could somehow convince Celehar to stay.]

Not… safe… [He coughed - the air was so much drier here, and sand could easily aggravate his worn throat when the wind blew the wrong way.]

[The footsteps and the sound of shifting sand claim his attention first, Celehar's ears twitching with the susurrus of grains sliding down the dunes. By the time Sunny has charged up to him, he was starting to turn, and staggers slightly at the tug to his coat of office, his expression sliding into surprise as he looks at the young man. That's the last thing he expected, let alone from Sunny - Othalo Need, or Mer Yusuke, perhaps, but not him.]

Mer Sunny? What do you mean is not safe?

[He steadies, the hand fisted in the back of his jacket meaning he instead has to glance over his shoulder to look, rather than turning to face him fully.]

[It was very unlike him, wasn’t it? Sunny wasn’t strong and certainly couldn’t make anyone do anything. He hadn’t even been able to stop Kel from attempting the Crossing alone…

The teen’s gaze worriedly centers on the Wraiths, a shiver running through him. Shaking his head, he repeats.] Not safe… Wraiths…

[He knew Celehar had a different relationship with death and those-dead than he did. Maybe it was the ghostly visages of the Wraiths, coupled with the fact that his friend had come back covered in blood that had him less than trusting.]

[Ah.

Celehar sees how it looks, now - wandering the edge of the dunes, like a wraith himself. He gives in to the tugging, taking a step back down the edge, in the direction of Sunny's pull. It's little more than symbolic, given the relative distances involved here, but enough to signal his intentions.]

The light holds them back, still. I did not mean to walk beyond it, only...

[Hm. How to articulate it?]

I begin to wonder if they are as uniform in their affliction as they seem.

[Sunny’s grip relaxes when Celehar takes that step backwards… and then the teen grows awkward about the touch. His hand releases the other’s jacket, tips of his ears burning in embarrassment.

Hopefully he hadn’t offended Celehar somehow.

Apparently not, as the elf continues. Sunny tilts his head at that. ‘Uniform’ as in…] that… the same…? [Was Celehar wondering if the wraiths were individuals themselves, or ground down to some singular mechanic?]

[With his jacket released, Celehar can take the moment to turn towards Sunny. Despite the wind doing its best to wreck his braid, the hair is contained enough that his expression can be seen - solemn as always, but not angry.

He mulls over the implied question, searching for a better way to phrase it.]

If pieces still remain - like the voices we heard. They might still hold their names, somewhere in the depths of their memories.

[Celehar’s explanation had the puzzle pieces clicking somewhat in place. Sunny nodded, even as he looked worriedly back at the floating specters.]

…you… want to talk…?

[It wasn’t just the idea that made him nervous; Celehar’s thoughts unleashed a whole slew of questions Sunny had been trying very hard not to think about.

What were the wraiths? Where had they come from? Why were they here? They certainly seemed like ghosts - the idea not making Sunny any more comfortable - but… there was just so much they didn’t know.

Maybe the Ferryman would know, but Sunny was kind of scared to bring the question to them.]

[Celehar turns his attention back towards the drifting Wraiths.]

I am, and was, a Prelate of Ulis, but in truth my Calling is not to serve as a priest, though I - did so for a time.

[He pauses - there's a hitch of emotion he expected to be there, some pang of something, that no longer strikes at his chest when he speaks about the time before he came to the palace. It is bittersweet, to be sure, but not painful - the sensation is akin to stepping out into what he believes is a black pit, only for his foot to meet solid ground.

He rallies himself, to continue, leaving the strange feeling be for now.]

A Witness sees the dead to their rest. I can no longer speak to them as I once did, but given the voices in the Crossing... I cannot help but wonder if there might be a way.

[Sunny takes in Celehar’s words, listening patiently, turning the idea over in his head.

The thought that the Wraiths might be unsettled in their spirits… that they might be searching for rest and Celehar could provide that…

It sends a conflicting shiver through him. If he was a wraith, wouldn’t he want just that? Even now, didn’t Sunny want someone to help him? ~~Even if he didn’t deserve it.~~

But the Wraiths - or the idea of such - still scared him. Still, the tend bent down, one finger scribbling in the sand.]

Maybe reading?

[Celehar looks over to Sunny as the young man bends to scratch out an answer in the sand, puzzling over it as he does.]

To them? I admit, it had not occurred to me. I have nothing to read to them. Nor would I think to be described as restful.

[He asks to clarify, looking to Sunny's face rather than the ground as he waits for an answer. As for the comment, well - it bothers him, to have others wince now and then at his voice as they did during his life, but he knows what he sounds like - certainly he does not expect to be thought of as soothing to listen to.]

[Uh oh… this was why communication was important… and why Sunny more often than not couldn’t follow the standard rhyme and reason of it.

Misunderstanding #1. He’d better fix that.

With the tips of his ears burning in embarrassment, he scattered the sand he had written in, attempting to be more clear.]

Maybe they can read? You could communicate that way, if your voice doesn’t reach.

[Well. That is an interesting thought. Celehar is from a place where literacy isn't guaranteed - certainly more common, and taught among the noble and wealthy, but not universal - so his expression reflects some musing surprise, before morphing to thoughtful practicality.]

I wonder. They show so little interest in anything else...

[Another thought, more scribbling in the sand.]

They’re interested in us. But I don’t know why.

[Celehar doesn't particularly want to disturb Sunny again, but... well. He's seen fools get themselves killed underestimating the dangers.]

When the dead become malicious spirits, it is not often clear why, but they often seek something from the living, and attempt to harm them, in the process. Some will drain their will - others, seek to rend their flesh. Others... learn cruelty. [Celehar's ears pin back at the memory of his own death, but he marshalls.] Perhaps they know only that they are missing something.

[The warning was certainly meant in good faith - that didn’t stop Sunny from taking a few steps back, almost like he could hide behind the elf for protection. His hands shook as he looked out at the Wraiths again.

One breath, another, then Sunny was bending down to write in the sand again:]

What makes you human?

[Something that had been asked of him, in another place in his mind. Maybe, whatever had been taken from these creatures was simply that - and maybe, the thought making Sunny’s heart beat faster in fear, that thing could be taken from them as well.]

[The pedantic note is that Celehar isn't human, but explaining that isn't the point - he focuses instead on the substance of Sunny's message, the 'personhood' of it. But that brings out a wry smile in him, there and gone again.]

The endless debate of philosophers and theologians, I'm afraid. There must be something to a soul, however. Even the dead remember their names, when they can be brought. It is returning that self that quiets the dead once more.

[Sunny lets out a sigh. He was certain no philosopher, so why did his brain have to make him mull over such questions…?

Celehar’s words strike something in Sunny, and the teen stands up suddenly.]

We… could ask… [In his haste to convey what the lightbulb in his brain had revealed, Sunny was having a hard time articulating the words. His eyebrows scrunched together and the corners of his mouth tilted down in a slight frown.] ‘Names’… their names…

[He pointed out to the wraiths. Maybe they could ask the ghost’s name, and if they remembered, then that was something…?]

[Celehar looks dow at the boy, in surprise. There are logistical questions of it, ones that he'd discovered in the catacombs, but that is secondary to Sunny's sudden enthusasm. It's the most decisive Celehar has yet seen him.]

You would join me?

[He doesn't mean to cast doubt, but given he was being used as a bulwark against the shades not so long ago...]

[Maybe it sounded a bit like doubt, and - if so - Sunny wouldn’t have blamed Celehar.

If he had to pick someone reliable, Sunny wouldn’t even choose himself.

His gaze wanders back out to the Wraiths, and he has to force himself to take a calming breath but…]

I-I’ll… try…

[That’s the most he can promise.]

I... am not used to the company.

[He says the words, a raspy admission, and only belatedly realizes how they must sound to this uncertain young man - and so clears his throat before explaining further.]

Witnessing as I do is a skill that was rare, in my home, so I often had none to share the work with, until recently. But the company would be well received.

[Sunny understood better than most - even if he did feel a slight pang of unwantedness before Celehar elaborated. He had many things that he didn’t - couldn’t - share with others too.]

I… want to… [He stepped closer, a determination to try in his gaze. And, admittedly, some part of him was curious - facing your fears was supposed to make things easier, right? What if watching Celehar do his… witnessing… would help Sunny’s own fear of the Wraiths?]

Then shall we?

[Celehar steps once more towards the crest of the Dune, towards the boundary beyond which the light can no longer be felt. There's no time like the present, after all - it may transpire that nothing comes of it, but better to do so.]

If you would write for them.

[Another nod - Sunny tried to look at determined and not scared as he could - and he was following behind Celehar. It helped that the other man was so much taller, so he felt like he had a physical safety barrier, even as they crossed that boundary.]

I’ll… write… [He held up his notebook. He could write in the sand, if need be, but this way the information would be shared with everyone else. That was the smart thing to do, right?]

[Celehar nods, picking out one of the shades to approach. In so doing he moves slowly and carefully - almost certainly not necessary, given the shades' simple habit of lingering and staring at best, drifting after them for a time. Knowing what they have now learned of the Crossing and the dangers to those who attempt it outside of the light, the fact of catching these remnants' attention ought perhaps to feel more threatening, but if he finds them so, Celehar doesn't let it show.

He only steps forward, enough that he stands between them and Sunny, the first to attract the ghostly figure's attention, should it come to that. He searches for the hint of features, of recognition, but finding none he says to Sunny,]

Whatever message you think best, then.

[Sunny is glad that Celehar seems to ooze some sort of confidence - or was it comfort? - as they walked forward. It put him at ease somewhat… even if he still felt a little nervous.

Following behind the taller man, he was glad when they came to a stop with some distance between them and the Wraiths, a physical barrier of sorts between them and potential danger.

The teen deliberated for a few moments as Celehar gave him the go-ahead. The simpler the better, he thinks, when starting out.]

Hi

[Or… maybe it was too simple, as he waited for Celehar and the Wraith’s reaction, fidgeting in place.]

Dunes

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