✿ Characters remember that they were called to Honmachi Sakura Park, and can infer that they’re currently exploring someone’s heart.
✿ Characters’ phones seem to have disappeared. Huh!
✿ All characters are brought down to regular human strength and abilities, though they can still appear as they normally do with corruptions, etc.
✿ Unless otherwise noted, characters currently in the heart are not exploring together and cannot see/interact with one another.
✿ Characters’ phones seem to have disappeared. Huh!
✿ All characters are brought down to regular human strength and abilities, though they can still appear as they normally do with corruptions, etc.
✿ Unless otherwise noted, characters currently in the heart are not exploring together and cannot see/interact with one another.
Your character is alone in a pure white room... truly, nothing more than a white void that expands seemingly eternally. The only thing to break that vast whiteness is a single pedestal ahead of them, whichever direction that may be - assuming, of course, such a place even had directions to begin with. The pedestal is nothing particularly remarkable, being made of some sort of simple brown wood, and laying closed atop it is a sturdy satchel and a weapon.
The weapon is, notably, a single weapon from 1955 or earlier that suits their preferred fighting style, complete with any holster or sheath needed to carry it comfortably.
The weapon is, notably, a single weapon from 1955 or earlier that suits their preferred fighting style, complete with any holster or sheath needed to carry it comfortably.
A singing voice could be heard.
It was a crimson world.
Deep red flowers covered the surface of the ground as far as the eye could see.
There was nothing, except for the expanse of blue sky.
No one could be seen on the prairie.
Even so, the singing voice flowed through the space of crimson and blue.
It was a song which was slow yet lively.
The song continued in joy and melancholy.
I’ll give you some flowers
Some lovely, colorful flowers.
So that you might be happy.
So that you might smile.
Finally, the song ended with a beautiful, extended, high-pitched note.
Soon after the song had ended, a voice could be heard calling out,
“Encore!”
“I’d love to hear one or two more songs, or…”
“Or what?” asked the voice which had been singing.
“Or you could pick me up,” the first voice replied.
“Ahaha. I understand, then just one more――”
The singing voice was heard once more throughout the crimson prairie.
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself in a field of red flowers. In the distance, someone can be heard singing...
It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. They may act as they wish.
Before your character stretches a long dirt road. On either side are large screens with images projected on them like a theater, yet large enough to display altogether different scenes as though they were simply part of the scenery, should one stray from the path. Though there are a multitude of screens in different sizes or shapes, your character can quickly realize there are three scenes on display:
1. A rural country, with a line of statues of important officials and a large wooden ramp built along the otherwise straight road, as though to allow a person to drive right over them.
2. A country traveling on giant treads, leaving deep gashes in the earth behind it as it crawls, ever forward to an unknown destination.
3. A peaceful country where everyone seems to be enjoying a strangely red dish...
In fact, upon closer examination, the panes aren’t just screens - they’re doorways, allowing the character to walk inside. However, when doing so, the other two panes flicker and go dark. Whichever path is chosen, the others will become closed off.
A motorrad (Note: A two-wheeled vehicle. Only to note that it cannot fly) was parked beside a stream. The motorrad, piled with traveling luggage on top and on both sides of its rear wheel, was propped on its center stand.
It was a small stream, narrow enough for a child to jump across. It created a slight depression on the flat earth.
It was a meadow flanked by mountains.
On the north and south sides were bare and scraggy mountain ranges, meandering alongside each other. There were small patches of white snow left on their peaks.
A wide and flat terrain was interposed between these mountain ranges. The stretch of green cover produced by various trees and grass occurred along with the grayish color of the mountains.
The rider was sitting on the grass opposite the motorrad. Both legs placed in front, hands stretched out behind, their eyes were looking up at the sky — to the warm spring sun and numerous clouds flowing on a backdrop of blue sky.
The rider was around their mid-teens. They had short black hair and a fearless expression on their face. They wore a black jacket fastened with a wide belt on the waist. On their right thigh was a holster for a revolver-type hand persuader (Note: A persuader is a gun. In this case, a pistol). Behind their waist, there was another one — an automatic-type.
“What a pain…,” the rider said, lowering their gaze.
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself in the meadow with an annoyed looking Kino, clearly deciding what to do next - no longer a mere audience member, but a part of the story.
On a certain evening.
“I would just like to ask one more time... Does this brown coat really belong to you? And you wear it during the winter?”
Outside the gates, a traveler was asked such a question.
The one asking it was a young female immigration officer.
And the one being asked was a young traveler in a brown coat, who goes by the name Kino.
“That’s right. I’ve always had it.”
Kino answered, and the motorrad (Note: a motorcycle, only to note that it cannot fly) with them added,
“It’s like Kino’s trademark, or something! There’s no way Kino would part with it!”
Upon hearing this, the immigration officer chuckled—an eerie one at that. And then,
“I know right! Isn't brown wonderful? Now here’s your permit. Come in, come in! Please proceed through this pathway. Just push Hermes along with you!”
She stamped on the permit papers delightfully and handed them to Kino.
Kino lightly bowed as they accepted the papers, which they neatly folded and stowed into their black jacket’s pocket.
Then they pushed Hermes along the tunnel that penetrates into the thick walls.
After a while, Hermes asked in a voice only loud enough for Kino to hear.
“I wonder what’s up, Kino? That immigration officer lady was tense for some reason. I wonder if she liked your coat? Or maybe it’s really about brown?”
Kino shook their head.
“I have no idea at all. By the way Hermes, what do you mean by ‘brown’?”
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. Your character enters the country alongside Kino, who seems to be prepared to climb up astride Hermes once more when they notice your character, too. “Ah... you’re visiting too? Though it looks like it’s too late to do much other than go to the hotel.”
They may explore as they wish.
Before your character stretches a long dirt road. On either side are large screens with images projected on them like a theater, yet large enough to display altogether different scenes as though they were simply part of the scenery, should one stray from the path. Though there are a multitude of screens in different sizes or shapes, your character can quickly realize there are three scenes on display:
1. A lonely building with a covered corridor leading to the gates of a country, deeply buried in snow.
2. A bustling country in the shadow of a large mountain.
3. A snowy mountain and a truck trapped in a drift with only a small tent nearby.
In fact, upon closer examination, the panes aren’t just screens - they’re doorways, allowing the character to walk inside. However, when doing so, the other two panes flicker and go dark. Whichever path is chosen, the others will become closed off.
It was a small room.
At its center was a single wooden bed. There was no way two such beds would fit in the room.
A painting was hanging from the low, light brown wall. It was bordered in such a way that made it look like a large window. It depicted an angel with fluttering white wings amidst a scenery of blue sky and animals feeding on the grass of a green prairie.
There was not a single real window in this room. It was being faintly illuminated by a dim light bulb suspended from the ceiling.
A human was lying on the bed.
It was a middle-aged woman. She was covered in a thick blanket of a light green color, and her head was sunk into a big pillow. Her eyes were open and looking straight ahead, but there was nothing she was gazing at in particular. Her slow, thin breaths escaped from her lifelessly opened mouth.
There were five people around the bed.
Four of them were two men and two women who were wearing the same clothes. They were clad in no other color but white from head to toe — white aprons, white caps, and white masks. They were standing on both sides of the bed.
The fifth was a young person wearing a black jacket. Perhaps around mid-teens, they had a fearless face framed with short black hair. They were standing at the foot of the bed with a big cloth bag hanging down from their left hand.
The four in white gazed towards the person in the bed and began to chat. There was no reply, but as if there was, they continued the dialogue meant for five people.
It was talk about the past. It was a recollection of the things the five of them shared and enjoyed together. Occasionally, the four would laugh merrily.
The person dressed in the black jacket looked on and stood quietly without saying anything. It’s as if they were looking at a distant and alien world.
The conversation continued at length. As the four broke into a fit of laughter, a faint smile slowly formed on the feeble mouth of the person on the bed who was only strong enough to breath.
One of the four noticed this, and quickly called the attention of the other three with a gesture. The four peered at the face of the bedridden woman.
The person in black inserted their right hand inside the cloth bag. With their left hand, they separated the cloth bag from a smaller bag, and let it fall to the floor without a sound. The form of the object they were grasping with their right hand was gradually revealed.
It was a long and narrow black mass of plastic and metal.
They lifted it up. It sent forth a thin red light which stopped precisely into a tiny dot on the bedridden woman’s breast.
The four in white did not pay heed.
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself standing next to Kino as they prepare to shoot the dying woman.
It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. They may act as they wish.
There was the sound of a roll of film ending. And so, your character finds themself in a pure white space once more, drifting down, down, down, until...
...Their feet touch the ground - which, strangely, seems to have the firmness and texture of paper. Kino doesn’t seem to be surprised by their appearance - in fact, it seems perfectly expected.
“So you made it after all... I see. I think, then, this is the part where I’m supposed to say “Thank you for coming.””
[Multiple travelers may interact with each other in this section.]
...Their feet touch the ground - which, strangely, seems to have the firmness and texture of paper. Kino doesn’t seem to be surprised by their appearance - in fact, it seems perfectly expected.
“So you made it after all... I see. I think, then, this is the part where I’m supposed to say “Thank you for coming.””
[Multiple travelers may interact with each other in this section.]
Edited 2022-02-11 07:10 (UTC)
Your character finds themself walking in to a peaceful looking country. Around them, people mill about, no doubt engaging in their daily routines - for the adults, that means work, and for the children, that means playing in the cobblestone streets.
Speaking of children, there’s one sitting on the edge of a fountain looking particularly disgruntled as some others sneer at them from a safe distance before running off, laughing to themselves. The child sitting by the fountain merely makes a face at their retreating backs, before looking over and noticing the country has allowed a visitor in, eyes brimming with curiosity.
Edited 2022-02-13 22:54 (UTC)
There was a forest and a road.
The forest was spread over totally flat ground as far as the eyes could see. Trees of different sorts were growing luxuriantly, and harmoniously blended with each other.
The straight road was going through the forest, as if dividing it into two parts; a single brown line among many shades of green. It was a pretty narrow, earthy road — a car and a carriage could barely pass each other in it.
In this forest, there was a field and a house on the side of the road.
The long and narrow field was planted along one side of the road. On all four sides, the field was surrounded by well-defined straight lines of tall trees. One half of it was nothing but soil, and on the other half were ridges with planted spinach. And a little further, on the other side of this field, a log house was standing.
This log house had a single pair of double doors that led inside and largish windows across the perimeter. In front of the entrance and beside the windows at the opposite side, there was a terrace built of thick boards. A small stable was standing near the house, but now there wasn’t a single horse in there.
Someone vigorously opened one of the windows, then the adjacent ones.
When all the windows had been opened, a hand appeared and started putting props. Finally the front door swung open and a person came out.
They were in their early teens, slightly taller than an average teenager. Their below-shoulder length hair was tied back in a ponytail. They were wearing lace-up boots and light brown pants that were quite big, so they were rolled up several times. A green cotton jacket was slipped over their white shirt.
The teen was carrying a single sheet under their arm. They hanged it on a rope that was stretched on the terrace near the entrance, and fixed it with wooden clothespins on both ends. The drying sheet was lightly swayed by the wind.
Then this teen lifted up both hands and stretched themself. The forest was thinned where the field and the house were located. They gazed at the blue sky spread over this place.
The morning sky visible through the foliage was cloudless and crystal-clear. A beam of light, which just emerged from the horizon, was being shattered into pieces by multiple tree trunks.
The chirping of all sorts of birds was heard from everywhere as if surrounding them.
“Yeah. The weather is good today,” said the teen with a smile.
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself just outside of the cottage as a slightly younger Kino sets about their day.
It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. They may act as they wish.
The country was a ruin.
The stone wall has completely crumbled all over the place, unable to perform its purpose. The doors for closing the gates lay collapsed on the ground.
Not a single building remained intact. Either the windows were broken, the ceilings collapsed or the walls fragmented. Some houses were burned, others crushed by a tower which toppled on its side. The roads were buried in piles of brick rubble from ruined buildings.
Under the clear sky, the ruins stood on silently.
Hermes was parked on his center stand near the west gate where there was less debris.
Not a single living person could be seen all around.
Before long, Hermes muttered to himself,
“So boring.”
—
The sound of footsteps among the ruins was heard. It was Kino returning to Hermes.
Kino was wearing a brown coat and covered from head to toe in dust. They returned ‘Canon’, which they held in their right hand, to its holster.
“How was it, Kino?” Hermes asked.
“Not a single person in sight, just bones here and there. Most of them must have been buried underneath the rubble,” Kino answered coldly as they brushed away the dust off their clothes.
“What was the cause? Earthquake? Tornado? What do you think?”
“No idea,” Kino replied simply and climbed on Hermes.
“No use stopping here, we won’t be coming back a second time, either.”
“Sure.”
Kino started the engine. Its loud rumble echoed throughout the ruins.
Kino gave the ruins one last look as they put on their hat and goggles.
“……”
Then they launched Hermes, rode through the deserted road, and went past the gates.
“I say Kino,” Hermes began.
“Hmm?”
“What are we gonna do next?
“Well…” Kino thought for a while.
They were riding up a large hill at that time, and when they reached its top,
“How about a song?” Kino replied.
A crimson world spread before their eyes. Deep red flowers carpeted the ground from beyond the hill up to the edge of the horizon.
Kino charged Hermes into the bed of flowers; red petals were thrown into the air. Without any warning, Kino turned off the engine.
“Wh...what?!”
Kino ignored the surprised shout from Hermes and let him fall sideways to the ground; they landed onto the bed of flowers, face up.
A countless number of deep red petals scattered about.
Hermes spoke in jest. “How mean. Who could have done such a rude thing?”
“Ahaha!”
Kino laughed gleefully, and took a deep breath while looking at the sky.
And then they started to sing.
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself in a field of red flowers. In the distance, someone can be heard singing...
It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. They may act as they wish.
[Glances around the blank white space, frankly unnerved by the nothingness of it all]
[He hesitates a moment, then approaches the pedestal to check the satchel. Is anything inside?]
[He hesitates a moment, then approaches the pedestal to check the satchel. Is anything inside?]
Inside the main pocket is a thick but otherwise nondescript book with a sturdy leather binding. The other pockets seem to be empty.
Upon opening the book, they’ll find that the very first page is fully colored, portraying a field full of red flowers. In the field, a youth in their mid-teens lays next to a fallen motorcycle. Actually - is it just a picture, or...
No - they’re the one in the field, aren’t they?
No - they’re the one in the field, aren’t they?
Inside the main pocket is a thick but otherwise nondescript book with a sturdy leather binding. The other pockets seem to be empty.
Upon opening the book, they’ll find that the very first page is fully colored, portraying a field full of red flowers. In the field, a youth in their mid-teens lays next to a fallen motorcycle. Actually - is it just a picture, or...
No - they’re the one in the field, aren’t they?
No - they’re the one in the field, aren’t they?
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crossmyheartandhope
2022-02-06 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[He blinks around at the prairie - at the katar now in his hand, in the same basic form and function of one of his heart blades, if decidedly more old-fashioned in looks]
[Then he peers around at the horizon, turning to look in every direction]
[Then he peers around at the horizon, turning to look in every direction]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
quickpersuader
2022-02-06 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[In the distance, he can spot... something laying in the field of flowers, at least. Presumably a person, since that's where the singing seems to be coming from, too.]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
crossmyheartandhope
2022-02-06 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[He starts to walk toward the perosn in the field, calling out]
Hello?
Hello?
[ ...................Definitely in someone's heart. Cool, he hates this. But Eichi made a good case for — doing his damnedest anyway. ] [ Gonna walk cautiously through the flower field in the direction of the singing, while paying close attention to his surroundings. Ready to be jumped or attacked or... ]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
quickpersuader
2022-02-06 05:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[The singing stops, and Kino sits up, looking over.]
...Ah. I didn't realize there were other travelers here.
Are you losing your lunch?
[A beat. And turning briefly to the motorrad.]
Losing my touch?
Yeah, that!
I don't think so.
[But they'll heave themself up to their feet anyway to face Hurricane properly.]
...Ah. I didn't realize there were other travelers here.
Are you losing your lunch?
[A beat. And turning briefly to the motorrad.]
Losing my touch?
Yeah, that!
I don't think so.
[But they'll heave themself up to their feet anyway to face Hurricane properly.]
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