The Ferryman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theferryman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecrossing2024-12-14 11:51 am
theferryman) wrote in thecrossing2024-12-14 11:51 am
Entry tags:
voice + text
[You feel it before you hear it: an uncanny sensation like you aren't alone, like someone just out of sight has fixed their attention on you.
They're not hiding, though. The Ferryman is simply speaking, directly into all of your minds, as clear as if they were standing right beside you.]
It's starting.
Sorry. Was hoping you'd all have more time to rest before we got going. But when it's time, it's time.
We're going to Cross. Not now, but soon. You'll feel it when the moment gets here. And you need to be ready for what that means, when it does.
It's a dangerous journey. There's still a lot of yourself left to lose, even if it doesn't feel like it now. That's my role here. I can guide you through it. Keep you safe.
There's a cost. You'll have to give something up, a part of your life Before. A face. A feeling. A memory. That's your toll to Cross. You pay it to me, and you won't get it back.
You don't have to pay. But if you're not with me, I can't keep you safe. You'll have to make The Crossing on your own. And if you do, there's a chance you lose a whole lot more than what the toll is asking from you.
There's some time left still. You don't need to decide now. But you do need to decide. You'll find out soon what sort of toll The Crossing is asking for, this time around.
Come find me if you want to talk. I'll be where I always am.
[The connection is tenuous; message delivered, The Ferryman's voice fades from your mind. If you're quick, and you concentrate, you might be able to grab on long enough to ask a question or two more.
Otherwise, all that remains is the object that purports to connect you with the other souls, all tasked with making the same decision. Whether it's a page or a screen, there's a new message for you:]
A toll to be levied for safe passage
from the cavern to ǝɹǝɥʍǝsʅǝ
Hear a voice that causes you pain
words spoken with rage or grief or envy
fueled by hate or love or suffering
offer it to The Ferryman
and let go
[ ooc | And we're off! Remember: The Ferryman is (for now!) the only one who can communicate to everyone via voice; the rest of you are stuck with text! The only exception is if characters try to hijack the fading connection to talk with The Ferryman one-on-one; there's a header for those questions here.
Otherwise, consider this a mingle! Chat, threadhop, go nuts. ]
They're not hiding, though. The Ferryman is simply speaking, directly into all of your minds, as clear as if they were standing right beside you.]
It's starting.
Sorry. Was hoping you'd all have more time to rest before we got going. But when it's time, it's time.
We're going to Cross. Not now, but soon. You'll feel it when the moment gets here. And you need to be ready for what that means, when it does.
It's a dangerous journey. There's still a lot of yourself left to lose, even if it doesn't feel like it now. That's my role here. I can guide you through it. Keep you safe.
There's a cost. You'll have to give something up, a part of your life Before. A face. A feeling. A memory. That's your toll to Cross. You pay it to me, and you won't get it back.
You don't have to pay. But if you're not with me, I can't keep you safe. You'll have to make The Crossing on your own. And if you do, there's a chance you lose a whole lot more than what the toll is asking from you.
There's some time left still. You don't need to decide now. But you do need to decide. You'll find out soon what sort of toll The Crossing is asking for, this time around.
Come find me if you want to talk. I'll be where I always am.
[The connection is tenuous; message delivered, The Ferryman's voice fades from your mind. If you're quick, and you concentrate, you might be able to grab on long enough to ask a question or two more.
Otherwise, all that remains is the object that purports to connect you with the other souls, all tasked with making the same decision. Whether it's a page or a screen, there's a new message for you:]
from the cavern to ǝɹǝɥʍǝsʅǝ
Hear a voice that causes you pain
words spoken with rage or grief or envy
fueled by hate or love or suffering
offer it to The Ferryman
and let go
[ ooc | And we're off! Remember: The Ferryman is (for now!) the only one who can communicate to everyone via voice; the rest of you are stuck with text! The only exception is if characters try to hijack the fading connection to talk with The Ferryman one-on-one; there's a header for those questions here.
Otherwise, consider this a mingle! Chat, threadhop, go nuts. ]
no subject
Celehar's ears don't flick at the quiet voice, but he does shift towards him, giving this new stranger his direct attention.]
You may sit here and think about it, if you like. That is what the Shrine is for.
[He pauses, then appends an introduction - he'd written it in the book, but just in case, he supposes it cannot hurt to do so again.]
My name is Thala Celehar. May I have yours?
no subject
[The teen answered with a noncommittal nod. He could stay here, he wasn’t being pushed out… and, if Sunny was honest, moving again to walk back to the room he was staying in was a bit too much effort. His aimless walk had taken more out of him than first thought.]
S-Sunny. [His was a poor introduction in comparison. Thala Celehar. How would he remember that? It was worth a try… the man in front of him, down to his name, was so much like a new NPC in a game, an elf in a fantasy world. Giving the hero a quest.
Except Sunny was no hero. The teen was simply passing through.
A few moments of silence followed. Sunny fidgeted where is sat, fingers clenching and loosening on the wall as his posture shrunk inward. Was… this when he was supposed to talk? Introduce himself more? He never knew - normally one of his friends filled the silence in conversations.]
no subject
He settles blunt fingers against his knees, watching the boy - for that is what Sunny seems to him, particularly with his shy and reserved manner. ]
Mer Sunny. Is there something you might like to add to the shrine?
no subject
Something… to add…?
[What possibly could someone like Sunny have of worth to provide the shrine? It was a calculated question in his mind, innocent and churning with an underlying guilt, as opposed to any sort of aggression.]
no subject
[Celehar certainly didn't take it for any kind of aggression. He just watched Sunny, giving the boy space to speak, should he work himself up to it.]
A mich'othasmere is a space for all kinds of worship. I can prepare it in the traditions I know, but given the strangers gathered in this place, it would be prudent to consult the others who will use it.
no subject
The Captain Spaceboy comic had been left back in the room he claimed, hidden and out of sight, and Sunny wasn’t sure how he would feel giving that up for all to see. Someone would probably laugh.
All he had was the hair on his head, the clothes on his back, and the blood in his veins… and the gods (if they existed) would probably throw any sort of offering like that back in his face.
Sunny was an awful human being, after all.
It… didn’t feel right (accidentally) coming all this way and not leaving something for the shrine though.]
Like… a wish…? [Sunny’s whisper was hesitant, like he was afraid of being told he was wrong. He didn’t even have a piece of paper he could write on, nor any drawing instruments… except the note tablet that was used for communication. And there was no way he would put something as private as a personal thought out there for all to see.]
no subject
[There's no hiding his surprise, for a moment. Celehar isn't familiar with the diversity of practices in the Ethuveraz alone, let alone beyond it, but the thought of leaving wishes in a shrine... it's the opposite of most kinds of pilgrimage he's familiar with.
The hesitance of Sunny's response didn't escape Celehar, though. He doesn't move, keeps his voice quiet, even if gentleness is beyond the harsh rasp of his voice. He's reminded, in a way, of Evru, just for a flash - skittish as a deer, curled up like a mouse who fears every movement for a cat.]
Is that what's usually done, in your tradition?
no subject
Now that he had offered, that meant Sunny had to… right?
But what would he even wish for? Leave a message to whom?
The questions stirred something uncomfortable in him.]
A-ah. [Sunny wasn’t sure how to answer Celehar’s question either. He gave a small shrug. Sort of? Not everyone did it but… people who went to the local church offered up their wishes and prayers to a god that seldom heard them.
Sunny hadn’t been in a long time. Not for that purpose. Unless the unintentional brawl/shouting match had counted.]
no subject
He's reminded of the foundling girls, many of whom were quietly horrified to be speaking to a Witness, pinched as they were between his questions about their classmate's death and the wroth of Osmin Temin. It lends him patience, and some sympathy. He doesn't need to press - there is no murder he must find the answers for, here.
They're both beyond that.]
Not all traditions require it, you know.
no subject
! [The teen’s eyes widened at that. Nodding hastily. He only knew what they did and didn’t do in Faraway Town, but Celehar’s own experiences - or what Sunny could gather of them - had him believing the other’s words easily. It was just… he didn’t feel like he deserved being able to ask for help. And, if the gods would answer pleas or hopes, then they surely wouldn’t pick Sunny’s. It was as simple as that to him.]
Do you…? [Sunny’s gaze flicked to the black tarp, the entrance to the shrine, then back to Celehar. Wondering… if he had set the shrine up, then surely there was more to it than just kindness?]
no subject
Do I require it? No. There are symbols which are helpful for meditation, and hold meaning as emblems of Ulis, but I would not require others to hold him in their regard. My traditions are my own.
no subject
He wouldn’t be forced to do anything.
And yet… Sunny still made no move to head further into the shrine. To offer… something. For he felt like he had nothing.]
no subject
One versed in elvin body language might have noted the set of his ears but, well. It's hardly listening if there hasn't been much to listen to.
When he does look to Sunny, it's with a nod and an expression that is, if not quite a smile, then certainly welcoming.]
You are welcome to keep me company here. I admit to some experience of the quality of silence changing, when it is shared with another - it makes the time more pleasant.
Wanting to wrap with yours? TY for continuing to this point ^^
Celehar’s offer had his eye widening in surprise. He… was allowed to stay? Even though he didn’t talk much, even though he clearly wasn’t ready to offer something?
He blinked, waiting a few moments, as if wondering if the offer would be rescinded… except it wasn’t.
He could stay. Something the Ferryman had told him rang through his head - that the others here would be glad to help.
That’s… what this felt like then?
Sunny nodded, his posture a bit more at ease, his heart somewhat glad. Even if he might someday be pushed away if Celehar learned the truth about him… for now, he wanted to stay.
The teen contented himself with sitting near the elf, notebook out and drawing. The shrine slowly took place amid his sketches: a memoriam, and a way to find this place again. Just in case.]
sure thing! and ty
It is as he said - the silence takes on a different quality when shared.
And so, Sunny is given a chance to sit and draw, for as long as he likes - at some point Celehar might rise with a quiet explanation of an appointment that draws him away, and an offer for Sunny to remain for as long as he should desire. A quiet nod, a thanks for the company, and an offer for it again, if Sunny should find his wanderings bringing him by again.]