🏝️ dulces sueños group excursion! 🏝️

[hearthwarming]

🏝️ who: intrepid adventurers (vacationers?) and more!
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.

[ Hopefully everyone had fun on the Arco Lunar! The morning after the boat departs from the docks, a letter arrives to your mailbox: ]

Hello, intrepid adventurer!

I am excited to have you along for a group excursion to the mysterious new island! In two days' time, let us gather in the town square and set off from there! Please be prepared to stay the night. It will be so fulfilling and memorable for everyone to spend a night on an adventure together!

If you have any questions or concerns, please come find me at my flower shop in town or at the forest farm where I live!

Sincerely,
Oriphi

[ If she accidentally delivered it to a few wrong mailboxes, then... Oops!

On the promised day, once everyone (and likely a few surprise tag-alongs) has gathered or been gathered, Ori distributes little paper bags of snacks to everyone. Inside are cookies, oat snacks, and a freshly-picked apple from her and M-21's orchard. Do with them as you please... Just don't let her catch you throwing it into the sea or something. 🥺 ]

Alright. I think we should head out, then! Thanks for coming along, everyone! I hope it'll be a great time. Oh, and please don't forget to drink plenty of water and use this incredible ointment I discovered on this island! It's called "sunscreen!" Tieflings don't really get sunburnt, but you should use it!

[ And with that our intrepid adventurers set off to the mysterious, dangerous, unknowable... resort island! ]

( This is the ill-fated mass extinction memshare event. Please refer to the event for details on the resort and the plotting post for any specific details for characters' memshares! There are toplevels for each area of the resort (and for the memshare). Enjoy! )

Comments

[passthrough]

[Memory options for Otegine are located here, please note the CWs - if you would like a wildcard or a random pick, please let me know!

All memories will be first person and can run either as a flat viewing (if you'd rather just get straight to the follow up) or a semi-CYOA-style threading for all options save for the idol songs (where your character can explore and interact in limited amounts, with Otegine's memory "driving the vehicle" for the main beats, emotions felt, etc). Let me know which memory you want and whether you'd like a write-up or an explorative thread, and I'll get you a starter!]

[framestory]

[ "sadachika" with semi-CYOA, please! Existential/self-worth conversation included if possible. ]

[passthrough]

[It's a dark autumn evening.

You're acutely aware you're being hunted. Every sense is on overdrive, trying to keep up with the two companions to either side of you, the weight of your weapon clenched tight in one hand. It doesn't matter that you're all much faster than any other living thing around you - the kebishii doesn't care. Along with the adrenaline is a sense of deep, hurtful dread - a worry and conflict that you can't quite give a label, but that sits in your chest like a boulder, heavy and painful.

The youngest of the men is the first to finally come to a stop with his senses all on alert, and you feel palatable relief seeing him relax. If Kotegiri knows it's safe, then maybe it's fine to stop and get your bearings for now. On your heels, almost too calmly, strides a third man, Akashi, who stays quiet with a thin, calculating expression.

"Tsurumaru and the others... I hope they'll be alright." Kotegiri turns to you, as he almost always does, his eyes full of concern. The reassurance comes out of your mouth before you can dwell on it, on a breathy laugh and a roll of your shoulders. Tonbokiri is with them, you remind him. They'll be okay in his care.

Akashi promptly breaks between the two of you, the warm and folksy accent on his lips a stark contrast with how coldly he spits out his admonishment: "You're cowards, the both of you." It freezes you up in your tracks, stomach tight. "Not that I care much. I'm the unmotivated one, remember? So long as we all get along, it doesn't matter."

He turns to you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, a gaze that looks wholly unimpressed.

"Isn't that right, Otegine-han?"

What do you say? Do you just go quiet, or speak up for yourself? Why does your stomach feel so sour at his words?]

[framestory]

[ Oh. He recognizee those kinds of smiles. Ellis can sport them too. But... huh. He's Otegine all of a sudden?

...

He frowns when he feels that sour bit settle in. He doesn't like it. ]

If you have a problem, just say it outright.

[passthrough]

["Is it that much if a guess?" Akashi's lips purse in mocked thought, though he locks his eyes with you with a subtle tilt of his head.

"Tell me, Otegine-han. Why is it that when you had to look your dear old master in the eyes just now, you looked ready to turn tail and run?"

Something ugly claws up inside you. That sourness, a flickering of anger, a cold and disgusting rush of fear at the mere mention of your master... and a strong wave of guilt.

"And you, Kotegiri-han, why did you stop me, exactly? Hm~? Didn't we have a job to do?" Kotegiri shrinks away without an answer, and you can feel your fists tighten.

"If you're both going to hesitate, own up to it instead of cowering. It's fine to keep a secret or two, or three, or twelve when we're in the middle of dealing with enemy, isn't it??"

You can't tell if he's mocking you or not. But the guilt increases.

People were hurt because you froze up. How can you justify something like that?]

wildcard for ori

[passthrough]

[Warmth. The piercing strike of a hammer. The folding, the dipping, the folding, the warmth. You don't question it. It's a faint feeling, a string of events with no time, no visuals, no way to ground yourself. But you're you. You... know, inherently, that you're you.

...

It's a blur, as you hear applause, as you feel yourself led out under professional and hushed tones and handed off intentionally from one pair of hands to another. You're in a worn down building filled with open outdoor firepits and water troughs, and then you're being wrapped in cloth, and then you're on an animal. A horse? Do they call this a horse?

You're not very old. You feel amazement at every sight, every face, every word said. You don't have a name. You don't care.

At your wrist, you feel a tug. It's... something, but also nothing, a formless spiral of light that just barely takes the form of a small child.]

Isn't it exciting? [There's no gender, no age. They simply are.] Where do you think we're going to go?

[hearthwarming]

[ Distantly, that warmth, the sounds of hammer hitting smoldering metal... It feels familiar. She has been around forges before. But... she's not herself right now, is she? No... She's somewhere else. Someone else.

...

There, the familiarity ends. Everything else feeling so foreign, so otherworldly, and yet she doesn't feel lost. Still, the tug she feels at her wrist is grounding, and she casts a glance down at that small, formless voice. ]

I'm not sure, little one. It feels like... We're going somewhere to do something important.

[passthrough]

[It giggles in delight.]

I know it! It has to be true! Did you hear what they said? How deep the groove was? He was really impressed at us!!

[A year turns to two in the blink of an eye. Then five. Then ten. You feel the passage of every day, and yet it simultaneously feels like nothing at all, like an hour of a day lost unknowingly to idle task.

You quickly go from being shown off to being useful. Your master's name is Yuki Harutomo. The feel of yourself in another's hands is comfortable and exhilarating, the entire cumbersome weight of you cutting through air with the pierce of flesh and bone. You're useful. You're useful.

He gives you a name. The Pestle of the Yuki.

You like this master. It's been twenty years now. There are talks of him adopting a son into the family by marriage. You're to be given as an item of succession to the young teen, who radiates potential. It's exciting.

You keep the spirit by the wrist. It's grown now, a little more defined, the voice more matured but with the same almost childish excitement. The time has flown by so quickly, but they don't seem to have noticed.]

It's good, I think. To learn about his family. Maybe we'll be treasured forever if we do well.

[hearthwarming]

Treasured... Forever...?

[ That sounds nice. To be with someone for so long, to feel secure in that feeling of being treasured. Forever. The feeling of longing for that forever sits in her heart, resonating alongside the joy in feeling useful. The feeling of someone depending on you, and you being able to provide for them. Protection. Healing. Companionship. Anything, to be useful.

She looks to the figure beside her again, noting the way it's grown. ]

But "forever" is...

[ It's not possible, is it? She knows this. Life is so fragile, and even when it's not... It is still finite. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ summoning, i'm fine with either style! take your pick! ]

[passthrough]

[Nothing.

It's been like this for unmeasurable stretches of time. No feeling, no form, no frame of reference. You know you're you. Or... perhaps... you could have been you. But that's a time that's long since passed.

You can't remember why this is an end. But you don't seem bothered. This is all you know, after all. Feelings aren't made for this form you have, bodyless, purposeless.

You can't even remember your name.

You're not sure when the dark became the dark, or when it was interrupted. But a ripple extends, a pinpoint of light, like the lit flame of a candle in the expanse of nothing.

You feel it calling to you. What do you do?]

[pactmarshal]

[ It is a feeling not too dissimilar to being in the Dream, Trahearne thinks.

It's the beginning of consciousness, he realizes. But not in a way he remembers. The seed of life came with information. But here, he has nothing. In the haze of this (lower case) dream, he remembers nothing. He is, and perhaps that is good enough. But formless questions nag him, and the pinpoint of light immediately catches his attention.

Can the light ever be bad?

He reaches for it. If not for a way out, but for answers. ]

[passthrough]

[You have no hands, no body, no movement. Passing thought is all that sustains you. But you reach out nonetheless. An acknowledgement of effort.

The light flickers as a question echoes against you, voiceless, yet echoing like a gong inside of you. It's a request. A fishing lure against the ocean of nothing, bobbing in anticipation.

There is no panic, no urgency. But it is a request nonetheless, precise and firm. It's a call for help. It's a call offering a means for an answer.

A contract.

You have no personal urgency to leave, for you have no urgency at all like this. It's a curiosity amidst the nothing. You cannot call out, as you cannot do anything but exist. But you, as you are, still know you can choose.

Do you answer this contract?]

[chronosynthesis]

[Confronting Hideyasu #1, semi-cyoa]

[passthrough]

["1600."

"Ahh, Sekigahara, then?"

"No. Just preliminary skirmishing. We don't believe the Shogun is the true target this time."

It's a deep and demanding voice, the tone of your master. You're eager to get going. This is your first mission in many weeks, even though you're operating with a limited team of four. You're presented formally to your master, a lineup in front of his citadel quarters by his own hand-picked orders, armored up with weapons in hand. But the date... the location...

There's familiarity, anxiety, enough to make your hands tighten against the pole of your spear. To go back home, even for a mission... what would happen if you crossed paths again? You, and your old master? The likelihood is slim - you know Sekigahara was a massive battle. You know what history's written, like a script you should follow to the dot.

Still, your heart remains uneasy. You feel now is the only time you can ask questions of your saniwa.]

[chronosynthesis]

[What doesn't Syrlya have questions about. Sekigahara was a massive battle? 1600? Shogun??]

... Uh. [Syrlya stares blankly at the polearm in his hands, the uneasiness sitting uncomfortably in him, both from the other heart in his chest and his own confusion.]

[passthrough]

["Otegine-han."

Lost and confused in your own thoughts, you snap up to attention at the call of your name. Ah. You apologize, mumbling. The swordsman who'd just called your name merely shoots you an unimpressed look, which is here and gone about as fast as you can recognize it. "You know Sekigahara, don't you?"

You nod, though it's hesitant. Everyone knows Sekigahara. October of the year 1600, when the military ruler of the entire nation would subdue most of his warring clans and slowly pave a lengthened internal era of peace in its wake.]

I wasn't in the battle itself, but... I'd been in the care of the Shogun's son for a little while at that point...

[Your saniwa gently cuts you off with a raised hand. "That is the matter at hand.

Touken Danshi, I wish for you to rendezvous with two others out on expedition in this era. We believe the enemy's goal is Yuki Hideyasu."

You hear the name, and your heart drops like a stone. That's your master. Your old master, one of your first, the one who made your heart hurt to dwell on and made it twist even further to know he could be in danger.

You know the enemy. You know they ravage. They slaughter, they sneak, they conspire to adjust things to their whim, to warp history by whatever means they deem necessary. To think the enemy could end your own master here... what would happen to history?

What would happen to you?

For a moment, you see red. You taste metal. You hear the pulsing crackle of flames, as your breathing starts to quicken.

You need to get a hold of yourself.]

[graftage]

[give me a random pick! semi-cyoa pls]

[passthrough]

[It's the start of summer.

You're tucked away in a building that feels just as much as home as anything else. The humidity is low, the surroundings carefully packed and managed. You lie on one of the shelves, resting, perfectly content for the moment.

Occasionally you can hear the sounds from outside. The rev of strange motors, the murmering of voices, the passing of clouds or birds overhead, obstructing the few cracks of light that poke in only to flick away. There's tensions in the tones lately. Rumbling that can be heard like thunder in the distance, when all the tones fall silent in mourning.

You know the sounds of war. It feels... sad, to not be a part of it. But you know it won't happen any longer.

You have to stay. They'll come to take care of you. It will be okay.

...

It is 8pm.

You have limited mobility to explore 3 items in your space as the sun goes down (or you can choose to just sit still and contemplate life, too), but you cannot open the doors.

What will you do?]

[graftage]

[......]


[Are these feelings...his? Its hard to say. He's trying to get his thoughts together, taking everything in. This feels like a bizarre dream. It doesn't feel like his dream, either. What is this..?]

[After a moment, he tries his best to move off of the shelf at first. Can he get off? Because if he can, his first thing will be...the shelves. How was he put up here?]

[yourlenore]

( nothing bad could possibly ever happen on may 25th, let's go! )

[passthrough]

[It's the start of summer.

You're tucked away in a building that feels just as much as home as anything else. The humidity is low, the surroundings carefully packed and managed. You lie on one of the shelves, resting, perfectly content for the moment.

Occasionally you can hear the sounds from outside. The rev of strange motors, the murmering of voices, the passing of clouds or birds overhead, obstructing the few cracks of light that poke in only to flick away. There's tensions in the tones lately. Rumbling that can be heard like thunder in the distance, when all the tones fall silent in mourning.

You know the sounds of war. It feels... sad, to not be a part of it. But you know it won't happen any longer.

You have to stay. They'll come to take care of you. It will be okay.

...

It is 8pm.

You have limited mobility to explore 3 items in your space as the sun goes down (or you can choose to just sit still and contemplate life, too), but you cannot open the doors.

What will you do?]

wildcard for owen

[passthrough]

[Warmth. The piercing strike of a hammer. The folding, the dipping, the folding, the warmth. You don't question it. It's a faint feeling, a string of events with no time, no visuals, no way to ground yourself. But you're you. You... know, inherently, that you're you.

...

It's a blur, as you hear applause, as you feel yourself led out under professional and hushed tones and handed off intentionally from one pair of hands to another. Every action is done with care, with respect, words filled with praise at how fine you look. You're in a worn down building filled with open outdoor firepits and water troughs, and then you're being wrapped in cloth, and then you're on an animal. A horse? Do they call this a horse?

You're not very old. You feel amazement at every sight, every face, every word said. You don't have a name. You don't care.

At your wrist, you feel a tug. It's... something, but also nothing, a formless spiral of light that just barely takes the form of a small child.]

Do you think they like us? [There's no gender, no age to the voice. They simply are.] Their words are really nice...

Where do you think we're gonna go?

[sicklysweet]

[It’s disorienting, to feel the feeling of suddenly being, not quite but almost familiar, almost reminiscent of being alive again, but it balances out into something…

Still unfamiliar, ultimately, but the reverence and tender care is… somehow more strange then something that simple is in a way Owen has never experienced.]

…

[He looks down at the tug, at what must be a new, young spirit - Otegine? - and nods.]

They love you.

[It seems that way, at least to him, and he can’t find it in himself to be cruel in this moment.]

…I don’t know where we’re going. Maybe we’re off to battle?

[Where else would you take a weapon?]

[passthrough]

[It gasps openly, innocently.]

Battle? Real battle? You think so??

[It giggles and puffs out its chest (?).]

They complimented us a whole lot, didn't they? They said we were made real good! So that means we gotta do a lot of good, too!

[You know, somehow, the spirit doesn't mean it morally. Morality doesn't matter to you, after all. You are what you are.

Months pass. You taste the blood of your first battle, feel the weight of yourself in the air. It's exciting. It's so exciting.

A year turns to two in the blink of an eye. Then five. Then ten. You feel the passage of every day, and yet it simultaneously feels like nothing at all, like an hour of a day lost unknowingly to idle task.

You quickly go from being shown off to being useful. Your master's name is Yuki Harutomo. The feel of yourself in another's hands is comfortable and exhilarating, the entire cumbersome weight of you cutting through air with the pierce of flesh and bone. You're useful. You're useful.

He gives you a name. The Pestle of the Yuki.

You like this master.

Another decade, and you watch him age. They care for you meticulously, not a spot of rust ever left behind. It's been twenty years now. There are talks of him adopting a son into the family by marriage. You're to be given as an item of succession to the young teen, who radiates potential. It's exciting.

You keep the spirit by the wrist. It's grown now, a little more defined, the voice more matured but with the same almost childish excitement. The time has flown by so quickly, but they don't seem to have noticed.]

Harutomo-sama's starting to get a little older, isn't he? So maybe it's good, to see his new son! I want to meet his family!

They'll treasure us forever, won't they?