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thecrossinglogs2025-04-19 09:44 am
thecrossingmods) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-04-19 09:44 am
THE CROSSING #2
THE CROSSING #2
It's that time again.
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!
always keep moving
— CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON
The Desert is sprawling. If you've ever gotten turned around in the rolling dunes, it may have once felt endless. But in the weeks and days before the descent of The Crossing, something appears on the horizon: first a dark smudge of storm clouds, not unlike the others that have rolled through before, then growing — wider, darker, and more threatening.
You feel it, too. For some of you the feeling is new; for others it's a reminder of a trial you've been through before. It's a weight in your body, a solidity of your self, a vulnerability to whatever is approaching.
The storm overtakes the oasis. As the first drops of rain begin to fall, The Ferryman speaks in your mind.
It's time. Those who are prepared to pay the toll are instructed to gather on the bank of The River. As for the rest of you... we hope you have a plan.
taking refuge
— THE RIVER OF MUD
The storm hits hard and fast. Even as you gather around The Ferryman, the rain grows from spitting droplets to a desert monsoon. The Ferryman's protection only goes so far: even if you're promised safety from danger, you'll still have to cope with the cold, the wind, and the water.
As before, The Lantern's Light grows dark. As before, The Ferryman gathers memories one by one, consolidated into a mote of light in their palm that becomes the new center point for the growing temporary bubble of safety. But this time— what it was too dark to notice in the Cavern before— you realize that The Ferryman themselves is changing, too. Their form fades as the light in their hands grows, becoming as fuzzy and insubstantial as mist... not unlike the wraiths, outside of The Crossing.
The sparkling white salt flat before you begins to melt and grow murky, exposing the sticky, grasping mud beneath. The Ferryman glides out over the roiling muck of The River, and so do you, your steps as light as if there were still a crust of salt to separate you from the mud before.
You must keep moving, though. Linger too long, and you'll start to sink... and the mud might not let go, this time.
— A HAVEN FROM THE WANTS AND ILLS OF LIFE
The journey is arduous, and the storm is unrelenting. The Ferryman, unfamiliar as they might be in this form, leads confidently through the blur of lightning, wind, and rain. As before, the mote of light created from your memories follows in their footsteps, illuminating the path to follow along the wide expanse of The River.
Even with The Ferryman's protection, it is exhausting work. It's as mentally taxing as it is physically draining. As such, when the path forward begins to shudder and shift, it may come as a reprieve. The wall of wind and rain finally breaks, the Desert around you replaced by... somewhere else. A place you may recognize, or may not.
Whatever stress or fear you may have been feeling from your journey wanes, replaced by feelings of calm, peace, or joy. If the place you are in is unfamiliar, the feelings are muted, as if they don't quite belong to you... but surely this is better than returning to the monsoon? Perhaps you can rest a while. Play a game, recover in shelter, or take a meditative walk through a maze. What's a few minutes, anyway? Time hardly means anything anymore.
Just don't forget: if you linger too long in any one place, the mud of The River will start to suck you down. It's best to stay alert— and to keep an eye on those traveling with you, as well.
storm chasers
— SWEPT AWAY
The Desert isn't designed to weather a storm like this one. Beyond the pounding rain and cracking lightning, those of you who have decided to travel without The Ferryman must also navigate the environment itself. Flash floods sweep through lower-lying places in the dunes, where the sand isn't able to absorb water quickly enough. Creatures that may have been docile before are now panicked, and might impede your progress, or even lash out themselves.
And, of course, there are the wraiths.
They're easier to spot this time around, across the rolling dunes. It's easier to make out just how much they've changed as well: the claws, the teeth, the exaggerated proportions... and the unmistakable pain and fury in every movement, in every shriek and wail.
You are vulnerable to any and all injury during this time, whether from the wraiths, the wildlife, or the elements. As long as you follow your gut, you'll know where to go — but we hope you have a strategy, all the same.
— AN EYE IN THE STORM
At least in the Cavern, you had cover. Nooks and crannies, branching tunnels, rocky outcroppings... But out here, beneath the wide-open sky of the Desert, there's very little in terms of shelter. The odd plateau, or cave entrance, or inexplicable feature might grant you some reprieve, but there's always more sand to cross in-between.
On occasion, however, you may spot a strange sort of wraith watching you at a distance. Some of you may even recognize it: an eerie, dissembling creature that some have dubbed the Smart Wraith. Its form, like the others, has solidified into something grotesque and painful, as if its body has been plucked like clay by a particularly spiteful child. Unlike the others, though, it does not attack, or even approach. It simply watches, as it always have.
If you have the presence of mind to notice, however, you may find that there are occasional reprieves from wraith attacks, especially across longer stretches of dunes. They're brief, but often crucially timed (such as when someone is significantly injured, or when a flood has just rolled through), and always correspond to a moment when The Wraith can be found watching from some far-flung vantage point.
It's odd, certainly. But do you have the luxury of looking a gift horse in the mouth?
stormbreak
— CLEARING SKIES
Eventually, the storm calms. Your body lightens. The atmosphere realigns.
The Crossing ends.
The thick, sucking mud of The River has become shallow and waterlogged. It's easy to wade through now, if a touch... unpleasant. Fibrous plants and reeds line the sloped banks, inexplicably dotted with bright orange flowers. Light is low, though the sky has cleared, as if wherever you are now lingers in perpetual dusk.
If you were traveling with The Ferryman, the mirages that dogged your journey finally fade and stay gone. If you were traveling on your own, any wounds you sustained heal rapidly on their own. As before, the healing is natural, but on fast-forward, and thus may not always resolve perfectly.
For both groups, memories bleed away from you - perhaps literally, perhaps not. Anything you found in the Desert, unless given to you by The Ferryman, is gone from your pockets.
When you look again, The Ferryman appears just the same as they were before The Crossing began. Let's take a break, they say. It's been a long journey.
It certainly has.
Image credits: 1, 2 + OMORI'S STORY, and stock imagery unless otherwise noted
The Desert is sprawling. If you've ever gotten turned around in the rolling dunes, it may have once felt endless. But in the weeks and days before the descent of The Crossing, something appears on the horizon: first a dark smudge of storm clouds, not unlike the others that have rolled through before, then growing — wider, darker, and more threatening.
You feel it, too. For some of you the feeling is new; for others it's a reminder of a trial you've been through before. It's a weight in your body, a solidity of your self, a vulnerability to whatever is approaching.
The storm overtakes the oasis. As the first drops of rain begin to fall, The Ferryman speaks in your mind.
It's time. Those who are prepared to pay the toll are instructed to gather on the bank of The River. As for the rest of you... we hope you have a plan.
taking refuge
The storm hits hard and fast. Even as you gather around The Ferryman, the rain grows from spitting droplets to a desert monsoon. The Ferryman's protection only goes so far: even if you're promised safety from danger, you'll still have to cope with the cold, the wind, and the water.
As before, The Lantern's Light grows dark. As before, The Ferryman gathers memories one by one, consolidated into a mote of light in their palm that becomes the new center point for the growing temporary bubble of safety. But this time— what it was too dark to notice in the Cavern before— you realize that The Ferryman themselves is changing, too. Their form fades as the light in their hands grows, becoming as fuzzy and insubstantial as mist... not unlike the wraiths, outside of The Crossing.
The sparkling white salt flat before you begins to melt and grow murky, exposing the sticky, grasping mud beneath. The Ferryman glides out over the roiling muck of The River, and so do you, your steps as light as if there were still a crust of salt to separate you from the mud before.
You must keep moving, though. Linger too long, and you'll start to sink... and the mud might not let go, this time.
— A HAVEN FROM THE WANTS AND ILLS OF LIFE
The journey is arduous, and the storm is unrelenting. The Ferryman, unfamiliar as they might be in this form, leads confidently through the blur of lightning, wind, and rain. As before, the mote of light created from your memories follows in their footsteps, illuminating the path to follow along the wide expanse of The River.
Even with The Ferryman's protection, it is exhausting work. It's as mentally taxing as it is physically draining. As such, when the path forward begins to shudder and shift, it may come as a reprieve. The wall of wind and rain finally breaks, the Desert around you replaced by... somewhere else. A place you may recognize, or may not.
Whatever stress or fear you may have been feeling from your journey wanes, replaced by feelings of calm, peace, or joy. If the place you are in is unfamiliar, the feelings are muted, as if they don't quite belong to you... but surely this is better than returning to the monsoon? Perhaps you can rest a while. Play a game, recover in shelter, or take a meditative walk through a maze. What's a few minutes, anyway? Time hardly means anything anymore.
Just don't forget: if you linger too long in any one place, the mud of The River will start to suck you down. It's best to stay alert— and to keep an eye on those traveling with you, as well.
storm chasers
The Desert isn't designed to weather a storm like this one. Beyond the pounding rain and cracking lightning, those of you who have decided to travel without The Ferryman must also navigate the environment itself. Flash floods sweep through lower-lying places in the dunes, where the sand isn't able to absorb water quickly enough. Creatures that may have been docile before are now panicked, and might impede your progress, or even lash out themselves.
And, of course, there are the wraiths.
They're easier to spot this time around, across the rolling dunes. It's easier to make out just how much they've changed as well: the claws, the teeth, the exaggerated proportions... and the unmistakable pain and fury in every movement, in every shriek and wail.
You are vulnerable to any and all injury during this time, whether from the wraiths, the wildlife, or the elements. As long as you follow your gut, you'll know where to go — but we hope you have a strategy, all the same.
— AN EYE IN THE STORM
At least in the Cavern, you had cover. Nooks and crannies, branching tunnels, rocky outcroppings... But out here, beneath the wide-open sky of the Desert, there's very little in terms of shelter. The odd plateau, or cave entrance, or inexplicable feature might grant you some reprieve, but there's always more sand to cross in-between.
On occasion, however, you may spot a strange sort of wraith watching you at a distance. Some of you may even recognize it: an eerie, dissembling creature that some have dubbed the Smart Wraith. Its form, like the others, has solidified into something grotesque and painful, as if its body has been plucked like clay by a particularly spiteful child. Unlike the others, though, it does not attack, or even approach. It simply watches, as it always have.
If you have the presence of mind to notice, however, you may find that there are occasional reprieves from wraith attacks, especially across longer stretches of dunes. They're brief, but often crucially timed (such as when someone is significantly injured, or when a flood has just rolled through), and always correspond to a moment when The Wraith can be found watching from some far-flung vantage point.
It's odd, certainly. But do you have the luxury of looking a gift horse in the mouth?
stormbreak
Eventually, the storm calms. Your body lightens. The atmosphere realigns.
The Crossing ends.
The thick, sucking mud of The River has become shallow and waterlogged. It's easy to wade through now, if a touch... unpleasant. Fibrous plants and reeds line the sloped banks, inexplicably dotted with bright orange flowers. Light is low, though the sky has cleared, as if wherever you are now lingers in perpetual dusk.
If you were traveling with The Ferryman, the mirages that dogged your journey finally fade and stay gone. If you were traveling on your own, any wounds you sustained heal rapidly on their own. As before, the healing is natural, but on fast-forward, and thus may not always resolve perfectly.
For both groups, memories bleed away from you - perhaps literally, perhaps not. Anything you found in the Desert, unless given to you by The Ferryman, is gone from your pockets.
When you look again, The Ferryman appears just the same as they were before The Crossing began. Let's take a break, they say. It's been a long journey.
It certainly has.
Image credits: 1, 2 + OMORI'S STORY, and stock imagery unless otherwise noted
They do! ♡
[She smiles at him, wet as she is.]
These are the fields surrounding my home. We're safe here.
[From where they are, in the middle of the golden acres, with farmhouses and trees in the middle distance, the threat of the titans outside the Walls seems far away.]
no subject
Even if being outdoors wasn’t something he was completely used to anymore, this place was calming.]
Look around…? [A suggestion, though a bit hesitant. If Frieda wanted to rest, Sunny would be glad to just lay down in the grass and do just that. But… if she hadn’t been here for a while… maybe she would want to look around? He wouldn’t mind seeing more.]
no subject
[She may feel that somebody from a world with phones and comics must find the plain outdoors boring, but little does she know that even without taking Sunny's past few years as a shut-in into consideration, Faraway Town wasn't quite that pastoral! With the sun shining down on them, she'll let him take his time inspecting the grains, field flowers, or anything else that may catch his attention.]
no subject
Sunny doesn’t correct her - the small glimpse of Headspace wasn’t really where he came from, but it was a place that was important to him. A place that he could make happen… normally.
In fact, it raised a good point. If Kel and Mari’s memories hadn’t been here to show the real world, everyone might have thought that Sunny came from Headspace itself and… that was a thought better left for a rainy day (not a torrential downpour)…]
…So… much…! [Still, that doesn’t mean Sunny can’t appreciate the fields around him, especially because it’s Frieda’s home. The outdoors was sometimes scary, but he saw no evidence of spiders among the wheat (even though he looked carefully before approaching, just in case).
It was nice here. Basil would have…
The fields fade to a single room, lit by moonlight. Heart pounding, lungs tight, limbs straining to get away… away… away…
Sunny flinches, taking a step back from the pretty flower he had been admiring, and instantly his panicked gaze seeks out Frieda.]
no subject
Sunny, what... what's wrong?
[She knows that it's not for nothing, not out of the blue - the last time, he panicked because she brought up instruments, something that has very bad connotations for him because of something that happened, so there must be a reason this time, too. She puts a reassuring hand on his shoulders as she tries to spot what startled him so.]
I feel bad XD Frieda always seems to get the knee-jerk reactions. He just trusts her <3
He couldn’t just declare it was nothing. Not with how he had reacted, not with the way he had sought out her gaze. Sunny shivered despite the afternoon sun warming his clothing.
What… could he even say? He couldn’t talk about, didn’t want to, and if she asked like last time…
Her hand on his shoulder was a centering weight, reminding him to breathe. In four beats, out four beats, repeat. Focusing on the sky was easier than closing his eye (closing them meant darkness, meant he would see the outline of that room behind his eyelids), so he looked up, simply breathing until he Calmed Down. Until his heartbeat returned to normal and his limbs didn’t feel like they would shake.]
S-sorry… [The apology was still shaky though, unsure and sad. It really was a pretty place. It just seemed that, no matter where he went, reminders were always there.
It was why it had been easier to stay in his room for four years and make up a place that was similar and detached, somewhere that he could be in comfort and not be reminded of…]
That's good and well! ♡
You don't have to apologise. But won't you tell me what's wrong?
[The concern is evident on her face. She doesn't want to press him - that didn't go well at any point so far -, but she also can't just blithely ignore his moments of panic.]
Does something here bring up bad memories? If you tell me what it is, I can take you away from it.
[Within reason - they are in the acres, so if he hates grains, they're out of luck! But something tells her that that's not it, nor the open blue sky mirrored in his upturned eyes.]
no subject
Frieda’s concern was evident, and her patience appreciated. Even if Sunny wasn’t sure how to articulate the what and why.
His sole gaze shifts back to the flower, and the mumble that he lets out is hesitant.]
…reminds me… of someone…
[At least he can still stand flowers. After the initial flash and calming down, he seems to be less effected by it.]
no subject
Someone who upset you? Or someone whom you upset?
[Sunny, it'd be so much easier to support you if only you talked about what's troubling you.]
That inner thought had me craugh XD
B-both… I think…
[No, he knows, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Being around Basil had been the strangest back-and-forth with what was left of his emotions. How else could he describe seeing a good friend, remembering all of that, and then-
Ending up here.
It was the closest to the Truth as he could get, but even then his heartbeat sped up. Like he wasn’t allowed to talk about this.]
Sorry Sunny, these incidents keep piling up..!
...
Sunny, if you don't give me more information, I can't advise you. I can't tell you how I would feel or act in your place, or help you understand where the other person might have been coming from.
[Granted, he didn't ask her to do any of that. Maybe he doesn't want her to, and that's his right. But can he really stand being so deeply troubled and never opening up to anybody? Come to think of anybody--]
If not me, then won't you at least tell Mari or Kel? Or was the other person one of them?
[She couldn't possibly ignore how strangely he sometimes behaves around even his sister and close friend, especially the former - but he still loves them both, that much is evident. So isn't it worth working on this?]
She’s doing great! It forces him to stop ignoring stuff for sure
Oh no.
He shook his head. No telling Kel or Mari or… anyone. He couldn’t. Surely, if Frieda was getting tired of dealing with him now, then she would hate him if he told her…
And that fact… it…
Sunny sat down, legs hugged close and staring at one of the flowers. He wanted to hide. He wanted the pressure inside of him to go away. But… he couldn’t run again. That would just cause problems for everyone.
(And what if, this time, they decided to just leave him behind? It’s what he deserves. It’s what he’s most afraid of.)]
Can’t… they knew… so would hurt… too…
[Kel and Mari knew Basil. Sunny knew Basil. Basil knew them all. And all talking about it would do was open up wounds old and new.
But Basil… what must Basil be feeling? The magnitude of it, the sudden realization, that Sunny had ended up here after-
His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and fearful.]
It’s… my fault… again…
♡
Sitting down too, albeit in a more open posture with her legs on one side of her, she smiles at him.]
Sunny, look at me. Alright? I know you don't want to cause Mari or Kel any pain, but don't you think you're underestimating how strong they are? They want to support you, I know that. If you try to bear everything on your own, you keep them shut out. Wouldn't it worry you if they did that to you?
[And they may well be doing it - alas, she knows that being older makes one want to do exactly what one tells the younger ones not to do. After all, they're stronger and wiser and more resilient!]
If you still don't want to remind them of what happened, then why not tell me? I don't know the other person, so I wouldn't be in the same conflict as them. Right?
[Whether he outright shakes his head or merely hesitates, she lets out a gentle sigh.]
I'm not going to force you, Sunny. I won't be disappointed or take it personally, either. But how do you want to move on from this if you don't confide in anyone? And if you're worried that I'm going to judge you... I'm not in a position to judge anyone. You remember what I did back home, don't you?
[Briefly, her smile wavers, overshadowed by her own guilt, even without the memory of her death and the painful confrontation that preceded it.]
CW: brief implications of a fight, panic, dissociation
Expand your mind, Sunny!
He couldn’t. But… her words were right. He would be worried if Kel or Mari or any of the other people he was coming to care(?) for here held him at arms length. But… he also knew it wasn’t his right to push. Maybe they just didn’t want to be around him. It must be exhausting for them, too, that whiplash that Sunny was constantly being pushing back and forth between.
The slightest nod, as his gaze trails to the flower again. The word he says next is a note, almost too soft to hear.] …try…
[Sunny then sits and stares at the flower. Frieda might think he is avoiding talking but… it’s hard. Thinking back on that night. The pain, the fear (for himself and his friend), the way his heart had pounded.
It’s almost too much. But… it’s sunny here. His namesake. It’s warm and safe and Frieda is sitting across from him, kind and helpful.]
We… fought… [Pushing, shoving, limbs grabbing for shaky hands, his feet tripping over themselves, Something stopping him from running] I… did something… bad… [A long time ago. Just a while ago. Four whole years ago defined in a heartbeat.] I just…
[want to save you…
…̶͕͂c̴̭̀a̶͇̍n̶͎̋’̶̟͠t̵͔́ ̸̤̊g̶̹͝o̸̭͝ ̶̥͌b̷͖̋â̴͓c̸̜̄k̴̹̈́…̷̖͋ ̸͙͝t̴͔̄ơ̷͔ ̸̩͝h̴̟̀ow̶͕̉ ̵̜̏į̴͛ṫ̷̙ ̷͓̍w̶̼̎a̵͛͜s̸̫̈́…̶̼͐ ̵̯̏c̴̨̀a̴͖̓ń̸̟ ̵̟̍ẃ̸ͅe̴̬͗?̵͖̐ ̵̨͋]
…help… [Though if the word is meant for Sunny or someone else, he isn’t sure. His heartbeat had been too loud and rushed, his lungs clenched by an unseen hand, that glint-
he knew. he knew when he had first opened the door, when it had been unlocked now yet previously barred them, knew he should be wary and yet-
There isn’t much of an outside change this time. Sunny doesn’t run, doesn’t realized he’s stopped breathing (that he’s holding a breath too stagnant and heavy despite the fact they no longer need to). He’s pale - maybe moreso because of the afternoon sun - and staring. Just staring at the flower, staring through it, staring past the roots to someone and somewhen else.]
no subject
But as he explains what happened, little by little, things quickly take a turn for the worse. She can see his eyes lose focus, beads of sweat appearing on his pale face as his hands clench up. She pushed him too hard once again, and for a second, she chides herself - shouldn't she know by now that he simply can't handle it, no matter how much goodwill he brings to the table -, but then she takes him in her arms, leaning over the flower in between them and blocking it from his sight.]
Sunny, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you!
no subject
And as he feels himself settle, the flower hidden from view like a terrible secret, it’s like all of his energy leaves along with the tension he had felt.
Oh…
She’s apologizing. For what? For wanting him to give a little? That wasn’t something to apologize for.
it’s ok
He wants to reassure her, but the words won’t come out, not now, so he nods against her shoulder.]
Stay… Here…? [The request could mean any number of things - would she stay? Was he allowed to stay? They wouldn’t be forced from this place in this moment, right? - or maybe all of them.]
no subject
Yes, we can stay here for a little while longer, if you'd like to.
[Internally, she wonders how much time they can afford to spend here without falling behind the Ferryman too much... but she wants to at least allow Sunny to recover from whatever he just went through a moment ago. With the flower in his field of vision once more, simple and white with dark red "eyes" - one for each of its 5 petals -, she points it out, hoping to dispell whatever bad hold it's had on him.]
It's a rock rose. They grow everywhere in the Walls.
no subject
Frieda’s explanation has him looking at the flower again.]
Rock… rose…?
[This was the first time he was seeing such a flower. It was bleached such a pale white to be like snow, and the red eyes…
It reminded him of monochrome, of red hands reaching, and Sunny things, absently, that Basil would have liked this flower.
”These ones are tulips… and those are cactuses… and the sunflowers are this way…
It’s strange how that thought isn’t triggering. Maybe he’s too worn out from the nearness of the other incident, but… he can hear the mint-haired flower boy’s voice in his head. Yeah, Basil would have liked learning about this one…]
no subject
They're more common in the wilderness. The ones that always grow in the grain fields are the poppies and cornflowers. Strawberry patches always have chamomiles without fail... it's interesting, isn't it, how the flowers have favourites they like to grow alongside?
[Of course, the soil plays a role, as does the location in terms of sunshine, rain, and other factors, but even so, these patterns recur across all parts of the Walls.]
no subject
They’re… unique… [To have grown here despite not being part of a ‘wall.’
Sunny has to wonder, in a way, if he was like that. If his friends were the plants that decided to grow close to him. If Frieda, in all her kindness, was.
He’s sure Basil would have agreed with that.]
You… would have… liked him.
no subject
Your friend? I'm sure I would have, Sunny. He's dear to you, after all.
[Is the implication here that surely, she'd have gotten along with someone who also cares for Sunny, or that surely, anyone Sunny chose as a friend would be a lovely person? Without specifying, she points the white flower out once more.]
Should we see if we can hold on to it? We could dig it up with its roots.
no subject
Sunny would have voted the former - he had too little care for himself to count the second in terms of his own taste in friends - and her question has him looking at the flower again.
Hand reaching out, cupping the petals below the stem, and then-]
No. [A shake of his head, the word decisive. This might be a dream, or a haven, or a hallucination, but one thing was clear…] Water… and let it… grow…
[Even if that meant they would have to leave it behind.]
no subject
You're right, Sunny. Let's let it grow in these fields.
[All of a sudden, she struggles to keep her tears at bay as the realisation truly sinks in: She'll never see or even remember this place again, these summer-scented fields, one of the breadbaskets of her people, a place where she observed the cycles of nature and connected with the workers, taking joy from the exchange of small kindnesses, a space where she could feel at peace despite the weight of the world on her shoulders.]
...
We should go, Sunny. Back into the storm.
At some point he’s going to give her a sketch of this place <3 (and wrap with yours?)
He’s good at recognizing the way she blinks, like holding something back, or the way her silence stretches on, like she was convincing herself of something.]
…ok… [He agrees, hesitant. It would be so much better to stay here. But… they had to keep moving.
The mud would take all, but… before they leave, Sunny takes another glance back at the fields and the white flowers, stalks waving in the wind. Commits it to memory.
And then he’s ready to continue. The seed of an idea forming in his mind.]
🎀
Then, she looks at Sunny and offers him a smile along with her hand. Back into the storm they go, to complete the Crossing.]