worthallthis (
worthallthis) wrote in
pennysheets2020-12-10 08:20 pm
Entry tags:
Afterlife PSL: Lilith and Samael
Soldat struggles up the riverbank with a vague, bedraggled confusion. Rivers shouldn't have banks. They should be deep cuts in the ground, manufactured more than developed. And it's dark, but it's not too dark, not the kind of dark they expect from a dead world.
Does that mean they made it? Is the sun going to come up on Beacon at last? Is the World Eater dead? They didn't see, the explosion flooded their perch, and now--
--now they have no idea where they are or what happened. They sink to their knees among the trees to pull the lantern off their shoulder, but it looks undamaged, nothing worse than the two small cracks from the Asset and from their second death. Sora's wayfinder charm and Owl Friend's safe passage charm are even still attached, still whole, somehow. Water streams from the metal arm, but it doesn't feel like water made it past the shielding. It'll be fine once it dries out.
Looking up, there doesn't seem to be anyone nearby. Had they been thrown that far? Had the lake washed them up on some other shore, far away from the others? Their tablet has no signal, when they check it, though all the music and notes are still there. (Hate to lose those. Hate to lose a lot of things. Mission. Yeah, pal. Mission. I'm getting up.)
They struggle wearily back to their feet. Time to find the others.
Does that mean they made it? Is the sun going to come up on Beacon at last? Is the World Eater dead? They didn't see, the explosion flooded their perch, and now--
--now they have no idea where they are or what happened. They sink to their knees among the trees to pull the lantern off their shoulder, but it looks undamaged, nothing worse than the two small cracks from the Asset and from their second death. Sora's wayfinder charm and Owl Friend's safe passage charm are even still attached, still whole, somehow. Water streams from the metal arm, but it doesn't feel like water made it past the shielding. It'll be fine once it dries out.
Looking up, there doesn't seem to be anyone nearby. Had they been thrown that far? Had the lake washed them up on some other shore, far away from the others? Their tablet has no signal, when they check it, though all the music and notes are still there. (Hate to lose those. Hate to lose a lot of things. Mission. Yeah, pal. Mission. I'm getting up.)
They struggle wearily back to their feet. Time to find the others.

no subject
A judge? Did they die-- again? And not come back as a spirit in Beacon? (Does that mean they won?)
(Oh shit... Misty is gonna be so pissed.)
The hand stays on their knife, but they don't draw it. A fair judging would probably put them in some kind of hell, no matter what Misty might say. And they know it. Weighing all the lives they took... it's easy math. Expression tight but blank, they ask,]
What do you want.
no subject
It is not my desire or duty to judge you for your past deeds.
[ it didn't take a genius to see that momentary horror without having a good idea of what put it there— and Samael has been doing this for a very long time. ]
I would like to see you go home ... if that is what you want.
no subject
How.
no subject
after a moment of her own silence, she shakes her head— not to brush him off, but to jar the lower jaw of the snake skull loose. it swings open enough to frame her own jawline, leaving her face mostly unobscured, and when she speaks again it's nearly with a different voice: lower, with a gravelly rasp to it, and more inflection than just "quietly neutral." ]
...Most of the crossings have been destroyed, but there was one that was at least intact when we left it. I can lead you back to it.
To be able to use it, however... only the worthy can cross back over. To that end, you will be tested.
no subject
They finally let their hand fall from the knife sheath. They'll deal with the... testing thing in a minute.]
And who are you.
no subject
...which really does not help the feelings issue, or her immediate inclination to get attached. wonderful. at least this little bit is just because she's pathetically weak to being seen for herself in general, as opposed to crossed wires over who he resembles. ]
Lilith, of Larkspur. ...My apologies for adding to everything else being dropped on you, but there are some answers I'm more suited to give, and I thought it would likely be obvious soon enough regardless.
no subject
It's fine. I know how that works. I'm Soldat.
[Which is not the name she knows them by, but... he doesn't know that yet. Depending on how much she learned about the previous one, though, the word may be familiar.]
I'm also Sarge and the Asset and the Bottomless Pit. So.
[She gets a wan little smile.]
no subject
the smile she gives him in return is wry, and a little lopsided. ]
Somewhat more crowded, then. ...I usually call my partner "Samael," for reference. You're welcome to use the same name, or give her another; she likes to collect them.
...ah. Did you want...?
[ she holds up the forgotten towel. ]
no subject
They hadn't even really registered the towel, but now they do, and after a beat of hesitation, they step closer to take it, and start by using it to wring out the long, half-undone tail of their hair. They sound significantly less on edge now, though they're not going to lose their wariness entirely for a long time.]
Thanks. I'll remember the names. Do you live here?
no subject
still, after how long it's been since everyone else has left, a relatively friendly reaction is both a relief and something to be enjoyed for... well. likely only until they're told more about the way the forest works. but in the meantime, Lilith nods in response to the thanks, and tucks both hands into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. ]
Not really. There are a few places we've settled at for a while, but for the most part we follow the river.
no subject
So you're here. To collect dead people and send them... where, exactly. You said home.
no subject
[ not everyone considers that place home, and not everyone wants to go back. Lilith certainly hadn't. ]
This is the country of the "unjustly dead." If you died when you weren't meant to, according to fate or God or whatever you might believe cares about such things— you end up here.
[ she doesn't bother keeping the sardonic edge out of her tone as she speaks. Samael knows she thinks the whole thing is senseless, and there's nothing to be gained in this cases by setting herself up as some sort of mysterious authority on the matter when the entire system has already been all but torn up by the roots. ]
no subject
[There's a lot they're not sure about, but they do know pretty clearly how bodies in Beacon work. The joys of being on the team that helps restore the fallen through lantern technology. The towel is pretty soaked, now, but they bend to wring out the hems of their combat pants, anyway.]