thecrossinglogs | TEST DRIVE #2

Entry tags:

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

Do you think we can still sustain sun damage?

[Whether they can or not, she feels the heat and the natural impulse to find shade. With Need having taken her outerwear off, her eyes briefly linger on the damage to her clothing. She finds herself quietly grateful that her own dress and thin robe didn't manifest as shredded as they must have been by the Attack Titan's teeth.

Opening her mouth to - to do what, again express her condolences, she isn't sure herself -, she holds back. Need can't remember her death anymore, can she? She shouldn't remind her, much as she thinks that she has cause to be proud of her sacrifice.]

I'm going to guess no. Did you notice? When we're not Crossing, we can't physically be hurt. It just doesn't happen. But discomfort, seems like that's still a possibility.

[Need sheds her knee-length wool tunic too, appearing oblivious to Frieda's gaze. She's got a kind of quilted vest on underneath it, over an undyed long-sleeved shirt. The padding of the vest suggests a figure that's ever so slightly better-endowed than she actually is.]

[Frieda smiles ever-so-faintly, following Need's example and taking her robe off. Under such a sweltering sun, every layer makes a difference!]

I'll take this discomfort over the pain I felt when I awoke at the bottom of the river. For a time, I feared that that state would be my eternity.

[A suitable fate, surely, for Eldian royalty.]

[Need gives a theatrical little shake of her head.]

Eternity's too long for anything.

So, what's the weather you're used to like?

It's moderate. We have four seasons, with hot summers and cold snowy winters, especially in the north.

[Despite the harsh winters, the northermost part of the Walls is safest, because the titans come from the south - but then, it's not like they'd be able to breach the Walls (Not to her recollection, not after the Crossing.)]

We have fields and forests, rivers and lakes, even mountains. Despite everything, I think it's beautiful.

Not a particularly small place, then?

[She casts a passing look back that turns into stopping to take a longer look, and sighs.]

I see. This is going to be one of those.

[The path behind them isn't the path they'd just walked. It's steeper and more curved, bending around a rock formation out of sight rather than vanishing into a cave.]

The Walls are big enough to house and sustain about a million people.

[The "sustain" part is important - with no way to venture outside without being devoured by the lurking titans, the Walls' fields, orchards, herds and bodies of water are all the more vital to the survival of its inhabitants. If a plague were to strike the harvest or livestock, it'd be a disaster.

At what Needs says next, Frieda follows her gaze and goes wide-eyed at the sight of the changed cliffs.]

...

We aren't supposed to head back, I suppose.

[She can't suppress a shiver. Does that mean that if anyone had fallen behind and gotten lost in the darkness, they'd be doomed to forever wander the cavern?]

[Need immediately thinks, population control. A million people make a lot more very quickly, and a few boom years could set them up for starvation. The system had only been in place for a century, she reminds herself. No time at all.

Regardless:]

Guess not.

There's a few people I haven't seen since before we gathered to cross. I hope they're not still back there.

[Frieda didn't live to see it - mercifully, one could argue -, but after the breach of Wall Maria on the day of her death, the refugees streaming into Wall Rose would cause such a strain on the limited resources that a thousand of them would be sent back on an ostensible (and blatantly impossible) retaking mission. As such, Need's considerations are painfully relevant.

For better or worse, Frieda's attention catches on her comment, expression growing more concerned.]

Who is missing?

[She mentally goes through everyone she saw after the Crossing - Celehar, Soo Won, Mari, Sunny, Kel, Daniil, Makoto, Nagito, Yosuke... did they lose anyone?]

[idk if people who were on the tdm but didn't app were here, so! a hiatused character and a drop.]

One of them I never spoke to, just saw early on from a distance. Skinny individual with a lazy eye and a blank look. I knew the Shepard, that soldier with the darker skin, at least a little. She was with me while those two scrappy teen boys tried diving back into the River.

[Having only met her in passing, Need has fundamentally misunderstood Commander Shepard's name. She's not great with names anyway.]

[The first person's description doesn't ring a bell, but at the second, she frowns. By her count, there's just a handful of women and girls here compared to roughly twice as many men and boys, so she remembers each of them well.]

I met her too, just briefly, in the settlement in the cliffs. She showed me a military recruitment poster from her world.

[She scans the steep, sunbleached cliffs that now look nigh-unclimbable. Would a soldier have gotten lost in the Crossing? Out of them all, wouldn't she have had about the best chances? She wasn't in the Ferryman's group...]

...

I hope she's either ahead of us, or will find a path here.

It's been hard to see just who was with or near us with the Lantern dimmed, but by now it should be easy.

[Need also surveys the cliffs, and turns to look ahead at the small procession of people making their way down.]

...Maybe I should teach some of you kids a really loud whistle. Then we could whistle back and forth if we can't see each other, and really badly annoy anyone closer by.

[Frieda's smile is a little strained, her worry for Shepherd lingering, but it's genuine nonetheless.]

That's a good idea! Or maybe we could ask the Ferryman for horns or other instruments that carry sound across a distance, at least for those who cannot whistle.

Though honestly there's some who wouldn't use either thing. That poor little Prelate, for one.

[Given that Celehar, being a clergyman, is the only person besides Need (an elder and order sister) and Daniil (a doctor) whom Frieda looks at as an authority figure of sorts, the other woman's diminutive impression of him takes her by surprise.]

...

You think Prelate Celehar couldn't blow a horn?

[How come?? Certainly, the elf seems thin and harried and not exactly in the full bloom of strength and health, but she's confident that he'd be able to manage that much!]

[Need chuckles.]

Could? Sure. He's got some kind of throat affliction, not a lung one. Would? He's very concerned with dignity and not looking foolish.

[having picked him up and carried him, she does think of him as small. Still, despite the words there's a definite affection to her tone.]

I'm sure he could make it look dignified! It'd just take a little practice.

[Alas, if he'd refuse those first undignified attempts, there'd be no helping it... and with Sunny, too, set to object to the suggestion, given his weak overall constitution, it seems like they won't become a group of proficient hornblowers any time soon.]

But we can think about such measures once we've settled in, I suppose. First, we need to make sure everybody is accounted for and tended to. At least a couple of us sustained injuries. They seem to have healed already, but...

[Trailing off, she shakes her head. While Yusuke more or less shrugged his wounds off, she worries about Daniil, who seemed much worse for the wear and whom she assisted on the ascent from towards the daylight.]

I wonder what the injuries mean. These bodies aren't real flesh and blood, after all... are they made from spirit-motes? Does being hurt mean the same thing that losing spirit-motes does?

...Not that I'm that familiar with spirit injuries, I have to say.

I'm afraid I don't know what a spirit-mote is. Are you saying that the injuries might have diminished their souls?

[If so, that's concerning! Certainly a matter to be raised, both with the toll-adverse and with the Ferryman.]

They're the particles that make up a soul in Velgarth, as cells make up a body, but not so differentiated and interdependent. Soul damage... [She purses her lips and considers. Need's suffered some over millennia, particularly during the Cataclysm, but she's been pretty good at keeping intact considering. Certainly better than some. It's just hard to evaluate in oneself.] You pick up replacements and heal it, understand, but you're not the same. Memory starts to wash out or be lost altogether. Emotions are experienced differently. Lose enough of yourself and your personality changes, starts flattening out.

The worst case I saw was with a man who was called Black Flames in life. [Need he had a name-] In life he was a man. A terrible man, he stoked racial insecurities and played on that to get into power, kept it, disregard for laws and ethics, genocidal ambitions and so on, but he was a human being. He had things he cared about, he could genuinely inspire loyalty, he was... very popular with some broad demographics because he could actually appeal to them. And when he died he'd set something up. A refuge for his spirit to keep it from passing on and could plant him into the body of a blood relative, and he'd left plenty of descendants so those were plentiful. Then he'd take over, crush the host's soul, and live again until he died and returned to his refuge.

But this damaged him a piece at a time. After two thousand years of that [she makes a little twitch of her eyebrows, acknowledging, yes, I'm old] Black Flames was a cannibalistic beast with few motivations beyond the base, sadistic beyond all reason, who only suckered in a few handfuls of grasping sycophants and was substantially less intelligent. He thought in stereotyped paths and reacted in predictable ways, and he couldn't properly grasp that he had changed and why he wasn't as successful.

...Now I don't think we're in for that, that's a specific kind of damage, to be dying and inhabiting that refuge and destroying other souls over a long period, and to have started out as a genocidal dictator. And we may not be spirit motes at all, it takes a massive amount of work to get them to appear this much like flesh.

[The longer she listens, the more tense Frieda becomes. The Black Flames' tale is all too familiar, down to the 2,000 years time frame - that's how long the Eldian Empire oppressed the world until her ancestor put an end to it, and this man's rule, from its initial form down to its degradation into unjustifiable sadism, sounds every bit like the imperial reign.]

...

He passed his spirit on like my ancestor passed his will on.

[It's not the same, she knows that, but hearing what the Black Flames did described as take over, crush the host's soul, and live again sends a chill down her spine. Is that what happened to her..? No, no. Her ancestor merely wanted to chain down the immense power safeguarded by his bloodline. His intentions weren't selfish, she knows that. (So then why did he flee into exile, leaving part of his people behind to atone? Why did he ask for a century of peace, knowing that the judgement day would come after the end of his life?)

She forcibly puts those thoughts aside - she can't overlay her own problems over what Need is telling her.]

I certainly hope that this isn't what's happening to us. It seems irreconcilable with the Ferryman's stated mission.

[But of course, that once more raises the other question she's heard repeated in quiet murmurs among the group: Can they trust the Ferryman?]

It's a similar concept, yes.

[Need is keeping the degree of distaste that she has for Frieda' ancestor to herself. It absolutely is influenced by her dislike of the entity who had been Ma'ar, Mage of Black Flames and Emperor of Predain, but she's aware that the situation is at least a little more nuanced, even if there's a lot she doesn't get.]

Well. It's irreconcilable if you assume it's happening to those who Cross with them. If it's what's happening to those who make their own way and get attacked by wraiths, then - the main problem is not telling us beforehand that that's the risk.

[She goes quiet for a moment, reflecting on Daniil and Yusuke's injuries and the unnaturally fast way they healed. There's no telling, really, what damage might have been left behind - not unless those two can sense a difference and will share with the rest of them (something they might feel inhibited from doing, for a host of possible reasons, all of them understandable to her). But with how incremental this soul damage appears, chances are that none of them might notice anything amiss until much, much later.]

...

I'll raise the matter with the Ferryman. If nothing else, we deserve to understand the full extent of the risk we expose ourselves to when we decide to 'cross' on our own.

[Of course, for those who already got hurt, it may be too little too late.]

It might not be that. It doesn't look nearly as much like bleeding as whatever's happening here, I have to say. Even if a spirit manages to look like a living person it only goes so far. I also don't know what the wraiths would be, in this scenario.

[But it's certainly what comes to mind, knowing that they are already dead.]

Probably a good idea. I'm reluctant to just tell everyone this spirit-motes theory without a bit more information.

Yes, let's keep it to ourselves until we know more.

[It's comforting to have somebody here who's witnessed a comparable amount of history as herself, someone with whom she can casually talk about things that happened centuries, if not millennia ago... though as they continue their descent into the desert, she can't help but wonder:]

Did you hear of the Black Flames' tale, or bear witness to it yourself?

[Whether to all of it, or only to the man's eventual fall.]

TEST DRIVE #2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)