The Crossing Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecrossingmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
no subject
A secret transformation, in a cavern so dark...
[How nostalgic, his tone betrays. It's not outright homesickness, he didn't spend that much time traversing the narrower tunnels of with the lantern or mushroom mazes. But he was a little homesick generally, having been thinking of toll possibilities for a while now, and this is just a little extra nostalgia on top.]
Probably not any of my own cavern experiences... It always feels a little safer indoors, even if that indoors is also in-cavern.
[A considering pause, as he goes over the ideas he's been keeping in reserve, dropping a couple from the top of the list with this insight into his own feelings now said aloud.]
Maybe... the inn, I had good experiences there. Or maybe, something from my home.
no subject
Between the inn and your home, which can you more easily do without?
[It's a choice she couldn't possibly make for him. A home should always be one's foremost place of safety, as far as she'd concerned, but who's to say how many long evenings he may have spend at the inn, exchanging stories with friends and enjoying good food and drink?]
no subject
Oh, I can do without anything! I'm a flexible and resourceful skeleton, of course.
[Flexible enough to cope without a name, eventually! And without a home, since his home full of his things isn't here. Without any of his underground friends, or his brother...
...Well, maybe his coping has mostly been wandering around the desert alone, with occasional bursts of socializing, rather than properly trying to be part of the group. If he's being honest with himself, very briefly, in the privacy of his own skull... He feels like an outsider, still. It's a hard feeling to shake.]
By the way, did I mention? The Ferryman told me, they'd try to get my name back for me! So it seems like it's not entirely about nudging us all to blank slates, after all.
[Partly deflection, a tangent away from talking about his memories just yet. Partly a move in the conversational battle he's been imagining since they last talked on the topic. Partly reassurance to himself - if it's not about pressuring them back to zero, then whatever they give up won't necessarily be the entire thing of it.]
no subject
At it stands, it's the Ferryman's feedback he received that captures her full attention. Congratulations, skeletal fellow, your distraction succeeded!]
Really?
[She doesn't know what to think. Small hints at a total blank slate state not being the end goal for them have been accumulating, and it's dismantling her mental construct of what this journey is all about. But she can't be selfish - for the skeleton, this is joyous news.]
I'm glad, because you need a name - and I take it that none of the others' ideas have resonated with you?
[Surely, not everyone refused to even try like she did?]
no subject
As to the question of other names, he hesitates.]
Uh, well... Some of them have made great suggestions!
[It's a bit too chipper a reply, because, well. Far be it from him to complain about their attempts to help, or their attempts to make things easier for conversation. He did his best to hide a wince from Sunny after Spicy Bones, since the teen had seemed so sad, and then so happy to have made the suggestion, that the skeleton hadn't had the heart to rain on that parade then and there. And as for the others...]
It's only... I may not remember my name, exactly, but I remember what having one was like. Knowing when people are talking to you, right away... Feeling connected to that name... If those feelings are resonating, then... No. Not yet.
[The admission is a little sad, but he keeps that smile up.]
But! It's only been a few suggestions so far! And, besides. I had so much time to get used to my old names. Maybe they're like shoes, and you have to break them in first.
no subject
That makes sense. We know our name from the very start, so suddenly receiving a new one is bound to feel strange, isn't it?
[That said, they need to focus back on the matter at hand - the Crossing won't wait, and the rain coming down to them only gets stronger.]
If it really makes no difference to you, why don't you pay the toll with your memory of the inn?
[If he doesn't want to give up that memory, her suggesting it ought to make him realise that.]
time paradox joke re: plotting aside, Frieda has unlocked more of the picture >;)
For now, he nods to the question of names, because yes - switching to a different name late in life (or, well, death) is strange. None of the others' suggestions have clicked with him yet, but neither have any of the things he's privately come up with and imagined people using.]
No difference...?
[He stares with the blank smile that skulls excel in expressing.]
Whatever do you mean? Maybe you misunderstood.... It makes a difference, what we remember, or don't. But!! I'm a tough, resourceful, flexible skeleton. I can adapt to whatever circumstances.
[If this were him talking to Undyne, that question would almost seem like a dare to offer something more personal as his toll. He doesn't get the sense Frieda means it like that at all, and yet...]
That said... I think the inn would be even weaker than the library. Lollipops are nice, but they're not really more comforting or safety-inducing than books. Not when books have so much knowledge to lean on!
[He's stretching the truth and mixing in exaggerations to obfuscate again, half-joking to seem earnest (and avoid being too earnest).
Really, if he gets down to it... There wasn't anywhere but in his old home that has safety associated with it. Anywhere else had comfort, fun, excitement, and other positive emotions, to be sure!!! ...But always something self-conscious and needing a boastful persona, too. Even in the library or inn he'd worried about peoples' opinions of him, at least a little.]
Alas, she has no idea!
Patience is a virtue. Always be kind to others. She holds back a sigh.]
If the library is the more suitable space to give up after all, perhaps your first hunch was right.
[Alas, she's incredibly hard to dare into doing just about anything, never feeling like she has anything to prove (unless it comes to atonement).]
the funny/sad thing is that, if I'd thought of the inn, I might've gone with it
Ah, naturally. My hunches are incredibly on point! And my intuition cuts sharply enough to split hairs.
[His indecision has also been a matter of splitting hairs, he has to admit. But fortunately for his idiom, he has no hair to split. Hopefully hers go unharmed by the annoyance.]
Yes, maybe some specific event in my room would be for the best. It isn't as if I took it with me... I've found the accommodations here wanting, in comparison.
[Even with tuning out the past to focus on the present, they're very plain and without much to entertain oneself.]
And besides! Remembering my friends is far more important than the layout of my old bookshelf.
There'll always be another Crossing!
That's for certain. Do any suitable events come to mind, then?
[She doesn't have any stand-out memories associated with her own room back home, having used it primarily to sleep and get dressed in, but that's down to the Walls' culture more than anything else. With no TVs, gaming consoles, and other fun stationary playthings, playing in communal spaces or outdoors was just more fun.]
no subject
[The various battle simulations he ran with his action figures across the tabletop, the various books read in that room, no shortage of times he had great experiences online... Maybe fewer memories actually involving other people, but even that has options.]
There was that time I hung out with my first human friend... After the few times they escaped, and came back. It left me with the inescapable conclusion that they really did... want to be friends...
[Of course, as brightly as he casually refers to locking someone in a shed, and as hard as he works at keeping a positive outlook on everything... He has to admit to himself that the whole hangout session is a little dampened in his recollection, after... some later events. Maybe that wouldn't be best.
He grimaces as he trails off, realizing, and glances around in search of some other notion. His outfit catches his eye, and the grimace is gone like it was never there.]
Oh! Oho!! I've got it. A time my brother and I worked together, crafting a fashionable and empowering cool costume. That was a great time... And since I have so many memories of my brother, even outside that room, I surely won't forget anyone!
no subject
That sounds like a great choice to me! Giving this one up shouldn't leave too great a hole in your memories. Come, let's give it to the Ferryman!
[They're probably the last ones! Well, she's handed her own memory in already, but they're in this together!]
no subject
Her encouragement isn't exactly like anyone he already knows, but the rebounding energy is a bit infectious.]
Yeah!! The time for hesitating... is never!!!! But the time for deciding is done.
[With a nod, decided and grateful, he heads to the increasingly translucent Ferryman to offer up this toll. And unlike his initial wishy-washy notion of something from the Librarby, this memory works right away.]
🎀
She can't blame him for wavering, anyway - aren't all their memories precious? Don't all of them make them who they are? And with the loss of them all potentially not being the end goal for them, she'll have to mull over which one to select for the next toll... but not now, when they have no idea what theme will be set and when they haven't even made it through this Crossing yet.
As the Ferryman gathers the souls for departure, she tries to cast one last glance at the other group, but the dark clouds and heavy rain obscure her view. Be safe, everyone.]