In a seemingly endless tropical sea, with a warm, merry sun overhead, is a single small island, just enough for two palm trees to have a hammock slung between them. In the sand beside the hammock is a coconut, cut crosswise to have a “lid” of shell on top of it, and inside is a sweet-tasting milky beverage - a dulce de leche chocolate-coconut cocktail. The sand around the island is spotted with dog tracks, but there’s no sign of an actual dog.
When Kazuichi returned from his dungeon he expected to find himself in some bizarre Liminal Space. What he didn't expect was a tropical island. A lot smaller than the ones he comes from but still a tropical freaking island.
"Oi oi oi oi!! What is this? Whose great idea this place is?! I'm not participating in any killing games anymore!"
"Greetings," a quiet voice rasps, and a heavily bandaged figure in a tattered coat is suddenly present, standing just across the island, on the other side of the hammock. Not an inch of skin is visible, and the figure's even, unblinking stair is mildly disturbing.
The voice already makes him jump, but as he turns around the only possible reaction to seeing a fully bandaged man and his stare is: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!?!"
This place is a dream. It has to be a dream. But it's not Sara's dream, and that puts her on edge.
No one else here, yet. And she's not Anchored. This place isn't overtly Nightmarish, so she's not going to panic, yet. But she's approaching the hammock with a knee between the legs or a chop at the throat firmly in mind as options.
There is, without any warning, a bandaged figure with solemn eyes standing opposite the hammock, swaying gently on his feet as if he is not entirely steady, not a scrap of exposed flesh showing through the bandages.
"Okay, this place is a little cramped for a person and a gryphon!" is Neeshka's first comment as she and Monkey-- full grown and quite large, now-- appear here. She elbows him out of her space, which means he blunders into the hammock, and unless it has some kind of magical properties, he's either going to pull it down or tear it when he tries to snap at it in annoyance. Neither of them notice the coconut, except for Monkey to also knock it over with a sweep of his wing.
"If this is punishment for stealing that crown in the last place, I'm not sorry!" Neeshka calls to anyone possibly listening.
"Punishment," a tattered figure says, from the other side of the rapidly-demolished hammock. "No. Not in the least. Punishment is not my nature at all, though it may befall me nonetheless."
Neeshka pushes on Monkey's wings so he'll crouch down, and she can actually see who she's talking to. Because that definitely sounds like... who it is.
"Oh, hey, it's you. Uh, long time no see, buddy," she says. Monkey clacks his beak at the Fool, shredding the last of the hammock, but either doesn't recognize him or doesn't remember him or just doesn't care.
Leonardo collapses onto his knees on the sand, his mind still reeling from the past few seconds. First he came out of his dungeon just long enough to take a breath and see the wearied faces of his rescuers, then the familiar pull of a portal with the unfamiliar pull of another's power controlling it, and now here he is nearly face-first in the sand. He lets out a winded huff, weary and long-suffering, before he slowly rights himself to sitting on his knees.
He slowly dusts off his doublet sleeves of sand, as his eyes glance at all that lays around him. Water, infinite stretches of water, so open and yet so isolating. A hammock and some sort of drink that he will refuse to touch - he does not believe for a second that such hospitality is there for him. "... where is Cynic?" Leonardo finally asks to what appears to be no one. He knows who this island belongs to, and it most certainly belongs to No One.
"His idiom has been adopted by another," Don Orlea says, phasing into being as he speaks, until he's there, slender but ever-more substantial, the sunlight behind him not shining through and revealing his hollowness anywhere but his forearms. "My greetings to my namesake."
"His form, mayhap, but I assumed he was an extension of you," Leonardo answers, not bothering to look at the Fool. "A pity. He was the most likable part about you. What do you want, Name Thief?"
Appearing and looking curiously Elizabeth peers at the trees and the hammock, "I am uncertain as to what part of the sea of the soul this is how curious."
Still, dog tracks, was not one of his companions a dog? With that thought in mind Elizabeth will start following the tracks.
They lead around the perimeter of the little island in a circle, but as she turns, there is now a figure - clad entirely in ragged bandages - standing beside the hammock and watching her curiously.
"What do you think ought to happen now?" a dry, cracked voice asks curiously - a bandaged figure, no flesh visible under his wrappings, stands on the other side of the island, head tilted, regarding him curiously.
Don't just eat any food you come across. Or drink the drinks. Or smoke the smokables. Etc. You never know what could kill or curse you. This is especially the case with temptations left unattended.
The coconut cocktail might as well have a little note that says "DRINK ME" on it.
Jefferson squints as he looks up at the clear and sunny sky. Well, at least there's an actual sky again. Big improvement over the creepy blank space in the puzzle-tree world. With a weary sigh-- really, he'd like to stop being yanked this way and that and just get sent back to his hat-- Jefferson flops onto the hammock and stretches out. He'll work on his escape in a bit.
"You are tired?" a solicitous voice croaks. A slender, bandaged figure, no flesh whatsoever revealed beneath his bandages, leans over the hammock, examining him with grave, dark eyes and an expression approximating concern.
Oh gods, warn a guy before looming over him with your bandaged mummy face! Jefferson's eyes widen for a moment, but he thankfully manages not to make a total fool of himself as he recovers from the slight surprise.
"No..." he admits, imbuing that one word with caution and uncertainty. He moves to sit up, peering at the bandaged man. "It just seemed like the thing to do when there's a hammock and a sunny day."
If Sara can't trust herself, who can she trust? (Don't answer that.) And she will have been quite insistent that the Arcana need some warning about the nature of time.
Plus, you know, she missed Christmas. Which is why she's got a giftwrapped box liminalled up... on a sling over her back.
She's in her 80's teal and magenta madness, humming, barefoot with a foot dangling off the cliff's edge back in Liminal when she talks to her marked hand.
"Did you know what Later Me and Even Later Me wanted to tell you?" she asks, softly.
The cloud across from her shifts, subtly, depressions in its surface becoming more symmetrical until it would be possible to imagine - just imagine - that they were eyes and a mouth.
Until they blink.
"I know nothing," the cloud-face says, voice still a dry croak.
She nods. "You and me both, sometimes. But we definitely suspect that you and the other Arcana should be reminded how time works. Me from the future thought it was important enough to pass along."
She stops to consider. "Would it surprise you to hear that time spirals outward? That things repeat, but also go forward? Huh, you know, that doesn't sound surprising to Mr. New Beginnings, but future me was very insistent," she says.
0. The Fool
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"Oi oi oi oi!! What is this? Whose great idea this place is?! I'm not participating in any killing games anymore!"
Tropical islands may forever be ruined for him.
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No one else here, yet. And she's not Anchored. This place isn't overtly Nightmarish, so she's not going to panic, yet. But she's approaching the hammock with a knee between the legs or a chop at the throat firmly in mind as options.
Hope springs eternal that it won't come to that.
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Sara has three immediate questions, two shouted in anger: "Who are you? What do you want?!"
Followed by another, wary, but more sheepish one: "...Are you hurt?" She lowers her hands, but not her guard.
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"If this is punishment for stealing that crown in the last place, I'm not sorry!" Neeshka calls to anyone possibly listening.
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"Oh, hey, it's you. Uh, long time no see, buddy," she says. Monkey clacks his beak at the Fool, shredding the last of the hammock, but either doesn't recognize him or doesn't remember him or just doesn't care.
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He slowly dusts off his doublet sleeves of sand, as his eyes glance at all that lays around him. Water, infinite stretches of water, so open and yet so isolating. A hammock and some sort of drink that he will refuse to touch - he does not believe for a second that such hospitality is there for him. "... where is Cynic?" Leonardo finally asks to what appears to be no one. He knows who this island belongs to, and it most certainly belongs to No One.
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TOTALLY VOLUNTARY TO CONTINUE but I'm game if you are
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NO NEED TO ANSWER UNLESS YOU WANT TO
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Still, dog tracks, was not one of his companions a dog? With that thought in mind Elizabeth will start following the tracks.
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She tilts her head a bit, "You are not related to my master, are you?"
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Re: 0. The Fool
First the weird forest...and now this small, and rather warm island.
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"Dunno. Seems that bit might be up to you."
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Don't just eat any food you come across. Or drink the drinks. Or smoke the smokables. Etc. You never know what could kill or curse you. This is especially the case with temptations left unattended.
The coconut cocktail might as well have a little note that says "DRINK ME" on it.
Jefferson squints as he looks up at the clear and sunny sky. Well, at least there's an actual sky again. Big improvement over the creepy blank space in the puzzle-tree world. With a weary sigh-- really, he'd like to stop being yanked this way and that and just get sent back to his hat-- Jefferson flops onto the hammock and stretches out. He'll work on his escape in a bit.
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"No..." he admits, imbuing that one word with caution and uncertainty. He moves to sit up, peering at the bandaged man. "It just seemed like the thing to do when there's a hammock and a sunny day."
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Plus, you know, she missed Christmas. Which is why she's got a giftwrapped box liminalled up... on a sling over her back.
She's in her 80's teal and magenta madness, humming, barefoot with a foot dangling off the cliff's edge back in Liminal when she talks to her marked hand.
"Did you know what Later Me and Even Later Me wanted to tell you?" she asks, softly.
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Until they blink.
"I know nothing," the cloud-face says, voice still a dry croak.
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She stops to consider. "Would it surprise you to hear that time spirals outward? That things repeat, but also go forward? Huh, you know, that doesn't sound surprising to Mr. New Beginnings, but future me was very insistent," she says.
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