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

[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.