introductions

[cancrymods]

It comes to you suddenly, at the end of an unravelling thread of thought. A sudden, piercing sense of wrongness stops you in your tracks and sends you tumbling through rapidfire questions that you realize you have no answer for. How long have you been here? How long have you been doing the same things, over and over, blindly going through the motions of a routine? Just who are you, anyway?

Questions beget more questions and answers prove illusive until you arrive at the only things you know for certain: the first is that this place is Purgatory.

The second is that you're here because you're dead.

Oddly, this doesn't feel like a surprise of any sort. You don't remember how or why it happened, but it did and that's that. It feels rather as though you've been slapped awake and everything around you has come into sharp focus. You're in Limbo, where you've been wandering since you arrived here in Purgatory alongside all the other mindless souls who are acting out what little they remember of their original lives.

Still lingering is that horrible sense of something being terribly wrong. It hasn't dissipated with your realization of the truth – if anything, it's intensified. There's no way to tell what it is, but there's something going on here.

Maybe you should investigate – or at least see if there's anyone else here who's had the same realization as you...

[ OOC: Welcome to the very first log of Can Cry! For the first few hours, Executors will be free to explore and mingle among themselves. Mod replies will come in a few hours. If you're planning to investigate, please indicate that you're doing so in the subject line as your comment. ]

Comments

Seal | OTA

[beknights]

[ It doesn't hit them as hard as they thought it might, the fact that they're dead. They're at peace with it.

But this place is too...crowded. Full of...strangers, with strange looks, strange features. They stand out. They feel like they shouldn't stand out...

They don't know why that is. The uncertainty of it all, the instinct for wrongness, the anxiety, grips their heart like a sudden vice.

They stumble through the crowd, disoriented, feeling acutely alone. It's a feeling so horribly crushing that they have to come to a complete stop, press their back against something solid, some instinct that tells them to guard themselves against...what? Against what?

They feel ill. Their shoulders hunch as they dig their claws into the wall they've backed up against, trying not to look at the crowd, making themselves small. ]

[mementomoritz]

Hello, are you sick? Do you need medical treatment? [Some people aren't six-foot-tall armored bugs, and are thus naturally small.]

[Fortunately(?), pure enthusiasm can make up for that.]

Because I don't know anything, but I'm apparently a medic! [...Case in point.]

[At least this strange, cheery girl peering at them doesn't seem to fit in with the crowd quite well, either.]

[beknights]

[ Who is this person talking at them? They don't know. But it distracts them from their overwhelming sense of the world enough that they crane their head to peer down at her, sifting the words through their head until they're sure they know what she said.

They shake their head no. They're not sick. Sick is...something different. This is just...a weakness.

Hesitantly, they bring their hand up in front of them. The 'words' feel clumsy, and like they're doing something wrong, but all the same... ]

« I am
fine.
What is a medic? »

[mementomoritz]

[The sign language takes a moment to register, like something sticking slightly in her brain. Maybe it's not a language she's as familiar with? At least that's one more thing she knows about herself, now. But it clicks enough to understand the question.]

Well, as I understand it, a medic is like a doctor, except that no one actually told them what they're doing is legally okay. [MEDIC NO.] They just get on in there and get the job done! Or at least enough of the job that no one dies immediately.

[Why... why do you know this. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR OWN NAME WHY DO YOU REMEMBER THAT.]

Do you have social anxiety? I think most of these people aren't aware of their surroundings and therefore can't judge your appearance or social status, if that helps.

[beknights]

[ They recognise some of those words in that second half but not a lot. But a medic is something like a doctor, it seems. That's...good? People must be fragile here, to need a doctor. ]

« I do not know
what anxiety is. »

[ There are certainly therapists out there in their world. They've never seen one and have no real idea what one is or what they would be for. ]

[mementomoritz]

[Without missing a beat:] A nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks.

[A dictionary-perfect definition, despite the fact that she can't remember anything about herself.] I wonder why that's general information for me and not for you? I don't think medics normally do mental health...

[She definitely didn't.]

[beknights]

[ Oh. That seems weirdly accurate. They're not sure how to feel about that. ]

« The words are different
Maybe.
I do not know. »

[daughterofthemark]

[Royal Veil trips over them.]

[beknights]

[ NO, THAT'S THE THING THEY'RE SENSITIVE ABOUT!!!

They flinch at someone suddenly stumbling into their space, reaching out reflexively with an arm they don't have before just clumsily grabbing the person who's fallen over them before they hit the ground.

They can't talk with their hand occupied, so they just...awkwardly...let go of Royal Veil once they've determined she's not going to fall over entirely. Their signing is quick, hurried. ]

«I am sorry.»

[daughterofthemark]

Ah--gracious, no, it is I who should apologize! I must be more attentive as I walk. Thank you for catching me.

[beknights]

[ They're clearly not used to being thanked; they turn their head this way and that, before just...nodding, awkwardly.

She doesn't seem injured. Their job is...done?? Maybe??

They're too emotionally overwhelmed to go anywhere, though, so they back up against the wall again. It's the safest place they feel they can make it to right now. ]

[daughterofthemark]

[...

She sits next to them.]

[iserveeverybody]

[It looked like some kind of monster, but that wasn't what the Relic saw first. She saw that it needed help. It was scared. She felt an immediate urge to help.

She approached the Seal cautiously, trying to look non-threatening.]

Are...you alright?

[beknights]

[ Are they? That's a difficult question, especially when their mind is still whirling from everything they have to process.

But...no, they need to be...strong? Something like that. Someone who can take on a great burden. So after a moment, they nod, and try to straighten up.

...No, they're still feeling wobbly. Their head bows a little, their shoulders slump, but not quite as far. They're

trying to be fine. ]

[iserveeverybody]

[She cautiously put a hand on their shoulder to steady them, and also to see if physical touch would cause a violent reaction.

So, you know, she was a bit jumpy and ready to duck.]

Can you speak?

[beknights]

[ Touch causes them to tense, but not in preparation for violence. It's tension born of uncertainty - someone who doesn't quite understand the gesture.

They shake their head. They don't have a voice, so speaking - at least conventionally - is barred to them. ]

[iserveeverybody]

[That tension, that lack of voice. It triggered the bioengineered urge to serve and protect. She couldn't stop trying to help anymore than she could stop breathing.

Possibly even harder. The dead probably don't need to breathe anymore.]

Do you want to go somewhere with less people?

[alcahest]

[ there is something wrong with that person, the strange, tall figure stumbling out of the crowd. and although no feeling rises in her chest, there is an urge she doesn't understand, this impulse to — do something. help. she doesn't want to touch them; for some reason, her skin crawls at the thought. she isn't sure what she should say. if she raised her voice at the crowd, she doubts anyone would really listen. it would be easier to ignore it. but she feels like... that person's body language is familiar. it means something to her.

she puts herself between the strange figure and the crowd, her back to the figure, with her feet planted and her arms spread wide. there's some distance left between herself and the stranger, too, a gap which she seems to be guarding with a determination, though her voice is soft and even when she speaks to a Spectre who gives her a curious glance: ]

Please don't come close.

[beknights]

[ It takes them a few moments to gather their bearings, to push down that sudden and dizzying weakness. To grip it unrelentingly and settle themselves by force.

People are avoiding them. They look up to find the one responsible for it.

...Should they thank her? They shouldn't touch her, they think; she's keeping a distance between them, as well as everyone else. But they have no voice to communicate, so they should move to do something else.

They move, quietly, maintaining the distance between them as they incline their head. Their signing is swift, efficient, and only slightly shaky. ]

«You have my thanks.»

[alcahest]

Oh... [ she wasn't really expecting to be thanked, but she nods. at least it seems like, whatever the problem was, they're feeling a little better now. she's actually a little relieved that she was able to be helpful, since there was nothing else she could think to do for them. ] You just looked like... you needed some space.

[ and she can understand that, even if she's not sure why. more than that, she felt like she had been in that position before, somehow — trying to be small and unseen. waiting for something to pass, like a child curled up underneath their blankets to hide from the dark. she recognises that thought, but she can't grasp the emotion that might be associated with it. how strange.

anyway, now that the stranger is well enough to speak: ] Should we go somewhere less crowded...?

[beknights]

[ Another pause. The hesitation, that aversion to touch...they don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. ]

«Do you
want to
?»

[ Their signing is hesitant, cautious. This place is strange, but not so strange that they could make a stranger uncomfortable, which feels like a sin all its own. ]

[alcahest]

[ does she want to...? well, she doesn't want to stay here. neither she nor the stranger seem to like crowds, something she has just learned about herself as well as them, and there's no reason they can't go elsewhere. there's no reason for them not to go together, either. unless this person has a problem with that? she doesn't mind either way. ]

I think... I'd like to go somewhere quieter. [ being around so many people makes her nervous, though she isn't sure why. ] Oh, but — you... don't have to go with me. If you want to be alone.

[crisantemo]

[When La Luna sees them, she's struck with... something. There's something at the back of her mind that stirs for a moment, before fading just as quickly. But that does little to deter her approach, stopping in front of them - voice as soft and gentle as always.]

I know somewhere that's quieter. I can show you, if you want.

[They're so clearly scared, that it doesn't sit well with her to just... leave them like this. And if they're like her, the nagging feeling of general wrong probably wouldn't be making it any better.]

[beknights]

[ The sound of her voice is comforting, even if it is a stranger's. To someone intensely sensitive to vibrations, it's a contrast from the solid wall of sound that is the unstoppable shudder of a neverending crowd.

They nod, quickly, the tension in their shoulders loosening somewhat. They only sign one word, quick, hesitant, furtive. ]

«Please.»

[crisantemo]

[Seeing some of the tension leave them is a relief, her expression softening somewhat. The signing gets a blink, though understanding still clicks, so she turns on her heel and motions them to follow.]

This way, it's not far.

[It's a bit of a winding path, but it leads away from the crowd and noise - La Luna keeping a steady pace, though not going too far ahead. Soon coming to a stop in front of a row a stores, all small and quiet and with the only people around being the store clerks. Now she turns to face Seal, once more quietly looking over them.]

Is this better?