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

[schardynfreude]

Alas, they all seem to still be asleep.

[It's the best euphemism he can think of, that the wandering masses are asleep, and he and this girl are now awake.]

They seem to get mildly agitated at the very worst if you insist on sounding rather insane at them, otherwise... [He sweeps an arm. Otherwise they're just this, going about their un-lives in blissful ignorance.]

[crisantemo]

[Asleep... That really is the best way to put it. It did basically feel like she was shocked awake, as if someone dumped icy water on her.]

So there's only a few of us... [But why them? What triggered it? All questions that seem to have no answers at the moment, no matter how she tries to wrack her brain over it.]

So I guess gathering information from them might not work. [She plants her hands on her hips, brow furrowing for a moment before glancing up at the man.]

... Though, do you actually remember anything?

[schardynfreude]

At least so far. It could be that this is something of a process, that the rest will awaken in time.

I...hrm. I suppose I don't recall a thing. Nothing specific, at least. We may be just as useless for information as our sleepy compatriots.

[crisantemo]

I can't remember anything either. All I know is that I'm dead.

[Something about that nags the back of her mind, but it's gone as quickly as it came.]

So I guess you're right. The only difference between us and them is we're just more aware... I wish I at least knew my name, but I don't even have any identification on me.

[There is that tattoo on her back, but doesn't help even slightly either!]

[schardynfreude]

Quite the same. [He spreads his arms, billowing pleated sleeves dangling.] Not a shred of identity to be had, though we were both clearly someone before. The trousers seem a bit questionable, but... And yet what bothers me more is...a sense. A--do you feel it? That something is wrong. Something beyond all this.

[crisantemo]

[Once he spreads his arms, she just... stares at him for a moment. Narrowing her eyes as she critically something that needs addressing right this moment - .]

At least you know you had a very... imaginative fashion sense. [It's... something??

But right, that odd feeling is also a pressing matter.]

Though yes, I feel it too. It's...unsettling, I don't have any idea what it could be.

[schardynfreude]

[It could be worse! Hoo boy it can and will eventually get worse. He can only shrug in defense. It's what seemed right, apparently!]

It could simply be that we are not meant to be aware. Or we are only noticing it because we are aware, which is why no one else seems to care. A trivial quibble, perhaps. We are aware, and we do notice it. Perhaps exploration may uncover a source.