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. ]
CW: brief mention of suicidal ideation (Skip first paragraph if CW applies)
Then again… Sunny now feared it. This journey itself and what it might lead to. For himself. Maybe for the other people here. Frieda seemed too kind to have to go through this sort of nightmare.
The teen listened patiently, calmed again by her voice, her logic, the way her presence wrapped around like warm mist. Comforting, almost.
A nod, though… Sunny still wasn’t sure. Was it Kindness to give people tools, but tell them they needed to go somewhere else? Was it Kindness to initiate a journey they might not want? The Ferryman’s voice hadn’t been unkind - unsettling, sure, but it had felt more like a sense of purpose than a force.
Frieda was right: they needed to know more. The hero couldn’t go on a quest without obtaining the details. Sunny was no hero… but he also felt like Frieda shouldn’t have to give something up. He just… didn’t have enough bravery to tell her that. Instead, his voice came out in another whisper.]
You’ll… give it up? [What, he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t ask that. He had secrets, too.]
Same here!
I have memories that I don't mind giving away. We should try to find out more about the Crossing first, but if the Ferryman told us all there is, we'll have to take this first instance as a test of our options. Should there be any drawbacks to paying the toll, we'll know afterwards.
[Her voice sounds stable and unafraid. She doesn't want Sunny to worry for her, though she doesn't know which choice would be more concerning.]
no subject
You’re… brave…
[Was… there something he could do? He wanted to do something to repay her kindness, even just a little, which surprised even himself. But what? Someone like Sunny had nothing to offer… except himself.]
I… can listen… if you want…
[His offer is almost inaudible, so afraid he is of what her response might be. Sunny wasn’t good at many things, but he was a good listener. He would be taking on a burden but… it would also be a test. If Frieda gave something away, and he knew it, maybe they could tell if something had changed.
Secretly, he hoped, they would find that the memory and the pain of it was gone forever.]
CW: War/Oppression/Slavery/etc.
After a long moment, she exhales, then speaks in an even softer voice.]
...
In my world, an empire ruled for two-thousand years. It conquered the lands with its army of titans - man-eating, gigantic monsters. Citizens of the nations that fell under its onslaughts were enslaved.
[How much more should she reveal? Just paining the picture of the Eldian Empire in broad strokes already makes her chest clench up. In her mind, she sees the memories, living images as witnessed by her ancestors: Slaves being mistreated, mutilated, even killed over minor mishaps or out of the ruling classes' sheer sadism, families being torn apart as their individual members were traded like livestock, the sick and elderly being abandoned to misery - and, of course, the warfare, the titans mindlessly overrunning battlefield and settlements alike and devouring anyone in their path, be it soldier or civilian, adult or child.]
A hundred years ago, an emperor came to power who abhorred what his lineage had done. He plotted with the oppressed, abdicated his throne while making it look like he'd been overthrown, and left with most of his people so the formerly enslaved could regain their freedom and independence.
[A beautiful end to a cruel story... but of course, the crux of what happened next is hardest to admit: That that ancestor of hers, Karl Reiss, altered his people's memories and left them in the dark about their history. She decides to avoid that part of the tale.]
However, they're still out there, the descendants of that king and his people - and their titans. And as long as they remain in our world, the people will be afraid of their return.
[So afraid, in fact, that eventually, they'll try to preempt it, with fatal consequences for the people of the Walls.]
CW: Thoughts on above triggers
Occasionally the teen would nod or his eyebrows would scrunch up - the only sign, aside from a darkening in his gaze, of his distress at the treatment of those in the story. It was… beyond horrible.
And yet, the tale that fell from Frieda’s lips sounded exactly like a moral story - one meant to teach children a lesson or to fear something. But, the starkest difference, is that Frieda had lived this - right? In some way, otherwise why would her pain seem to cut so deep?
It wasn’t like Sunny’s own imagined world - his reprieve where things weren’t ever as bad as they could be. (Really, how bad could Headspace be when he could revive his friends in battle with Life Jam? Only when the horrors of his mind caught up with him, blaring neon signs pointing towards something did Sunny ever start to feel out of place.)
Maybe his inner conflict showed more in his posture than he was aware. If the ruler had left so people could gain freedom… why would the people fear their return? Was it a change of heart? Or the fact that they had been shown the true atrocity of the human heart?
Sunny himself wasn’t a good person. He knew this as surely as he knew what breathing was like. And just because a fear was removed didn’t make that feeling go away entirely - the sight of a cobweb, of the city sitting on a tall incline, the churning of the River… all of that brought back his own fears, after all.
He leaned a little closer to Frieda, nodding again. His gaze a little clearer, encouraging, supporting… as much as he could.]
no subject
I’m one of those people who live on the island. I’m so afraid that my people will unleash the wrath of the titans on the outside world again if given the opportunity. Not everyone is like the exiled king. He put safeguards in place against any of his descendants deciding to seize those terrible powers, but…
[She helplessly puts her head in her hands as she recalls the confrontation in her family’s secret cavern, the face of the man who appealed to her in such despair. ”King of the Walls! I’m a subject of Ymir like you all! I beg you, use the powers of the Founding Titan to stop the titans attacking the Walls! Otherwise, my wife and children… the people of the Walls will...!”
She couldn’t do anything. After all, eradication was what they deserved. Their escape from the continent, from the atonement for their forebears’ sins, couldn’t last forever, not even with the thread of the Wall Titans keeping the outside world fearfully at bay. (These were originally her ancestor’s thoughts, but wasn’t he right? No one can eternally run away from their foul deeds.)
With her now dead, what will happen? That man, not of royal blood, won’t be able to command the power of the Founder. He won’t be able to save his family or anyone else, however he will inherit the knowledge about their world’s true history, and she can hardly foresee the consequences of that.]
Those powers have fallen into the wrong hands.
no subject
Sunny could tell - he knew what the weight felt like. How hard it was to force yourself to speak.
So he listened to how she was involved in all of this, how the power she spoke of was somehow in the ‘wrong hands’…
But… they were dead. What was there to be done about things left in the wake of their passing? They couldn’t console, couldn’t change anything where they came from… was that what the Ferryman meant? To let go?
Sunny’s expression didn’t change as he thought, but his gaze drifted - first to the ground beneath them, then to the illuminated walls, then… back to Frieda. He forced himself to speak.]
You’re… kind… [He shook his head, unsure of how to put it into words. If everyone on that island was like Frieda… but they weren’t, were they? That was where her fear came from. So… they could only hope that the people left behind would be able to weather whatever came next.]
no subject
She tried to be kind - preaching love and peace to her subjects and trying to lead by example -, but what did that really count for when everybody's memories were erased and anyone who got curious and found out too much was killed? She didn't spill any blood herself - she couldn't have -, but the Military Police was under her command. As the ruler, the responsibility falls on her.]
I let everyone down. Innocent people will die because of my failure... too many have died already.
...
If I could forget about that, I'm sure I'd be happier.
[But what a selfish wish is that? Immediately, she balks at her own words, drawing in a sharp breath.]
no subject
It was all his fault. He couldn’t get rid of that internal accusation, that desire to forget and return to some sort of blissful ignorance.
Sunny had no problem being selfish - he had already done so in the past.
But Frieda…? She deserved whatever would bring her peace.
He was awful at this though. He had made her cry without meaning to, and now he didn’t know the proper words to comfort her. So he simply leaned a little closer, shoulder to shoulder. Contact tended to help other people feel wanted, right?
Not that Sunny would know - he had always been adverse to it aside from a few select people.]
no subject
I didn't want any of this to happen. I just wanted to...
[She shakes her head. She wanted to free her people - but it was only once she inherited the power to do so that she understood why she couldn't possibly go ahead with it, not without dooming the rest of the world to subjugation again. Even without explaining those convoluted details to Sunny, she at least wants to clarify that it's not mere cowardice that's making her consider taking the Ferryman's offer.]
If I could undo all the suffering, I'd pay any price - all my body parts, all my senses, even staying in my worst nightmarey forever. But if I can't, then... then remembering it for the rest of eternity is the worst punishment I can imagine., all the more if it doesn't help anybody.
no subject
He understood though. Listened. Knowing that remembering was a sharp pain, like the twist of a knife, more than forgetting was. Was forgetting cowardly? Maybe. Sunny had already tried (and failed) to keep his own truth from his memory. He didn’t know what to do with it - just letting it sit, as he couldn’t forgive himself, but returning to blissful oblivious was seeming more and more unlikely.
Still… Frieda’s words gave him pause. Would he sacrifice himself to undo the suffering he had caused? Was he that selfless, that he could rid himself of his limbs, his memory, his comfort? Would it even make a difference?
No, not for Sunny. There was nothing he could do to atone. Nothing that would make up for what he had done, nothing that would earn him forgiveness. Deep down, he knew that. It was why he tried so hard to bury it, to make sure no one found out… not even himself.
He wasn’t brave like Frieda. Just the thought of attempting to admit his own failings like she had trusted with hers made him sick inside.
The most he could doo is offer her silent comfort, support. He shook his head. Taking a breath, building up his own meager confidence to say the next few words.] You… shouldn’t have to. Not your fault… [He hoped his gaze conveyed all that he didn’t have the vocal strength to say: it wasn’t Frieda’s choice to make those awful decisions, she had simply been unfortunate enough to have the history of that thrust upon her.]
no subject
Thank you, Sunny. You're really kind. But someone has to take responsibility. If everyone says "It's not my fault", then who will answer for all the sins, all the suffering? I just wish it could've been me alone.
[Of course, she'd have been scared. She might have begged for mercy, for forgiveness. But if her sacrifice could have redeemed her people, it'd all have been worth it. Sadly, that was never an option. All Eldians are cursed, and her death would only have passed the powers of the Founding Titan on to whoever would've devoured her remains. She wraps her arms around her knees, too despondent to cheer herself or her companion up.]
(Sad but good wrap? T.T)
He was good at listening, but aside from that base comfort, he was never able to provide much else.
Still… for as long as Frieda wanted him there, he would sit: two silent companions rife in their sins.]
Sounds good! ♡
Her revelations weigh heavily. Everything she told Sunny was a secret; nobody in the Walls expect for the non-Eldian nobles and the clergymen knew anything about their history or the outside world. Even if she'd wanted to tell anyone, her ancestor's vow would have held her tongue. Only now, in death, can she share the burden - but was that a wise idea? Already, the doubt is gnawing at her, but she can't take back her words.]