✿ Characters remember that they were called to Honmachi Sakura Park (unless they're Cobalt, who is just dreaming), 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.
Kino and Hermes passed the gates as soon as they finished the entry procedures.
Before the gates was an elliptical plaza. Just a bit ways off was a row of wooden, one-storey houses crowded together. Every single one was elevated, with stout, wooden pillars that pierced the ground. The narrow road was entirely paved, a step higher than the ground itself.
There were several men in the park. They approached with smiles, perhaps in anticipation of Kino and Hermes.
“Good afternoon, traveler. Welcome to our country. I am the person who was given charge of this country’s affairs.”
Kino took off their hat and gave a slight bow to the middle-aged man who introduced himself as the chief.
“Good afternoon. I am Kino, and this is my partner, Hermes.”
“It’s really wonderful of you to come. You are the first guest we’ve had in five years. There’s no hotel in our country, so we’ll have to accommodate you in our country’s reception hall. Of course, we won’t ask for payment of any sort. You deserve no less, being our country’s guest.”
The chief then bowed deeply, and the other men followed suit.
Hermes voiced out a whistle. “Isn’t that great, Kino? It’s the first time you get to be treated like this. It’s a good thing we chose this road – just how many times did we think of turning back? That road was so horrible; you couldn’t blame anyone thinking that the country ahead’s inhabi––”
Kino kicked Hermes in the middle of his dialogue, and bowed to the chief and his followers. “That’s really kind of you. We’re very grateful.”
There was the sound of a film roll coming to an end. And so, your character finds themself in the reception hall - a larger version of the stilt houses they saw earlier. Judging by the chief’s words as he guides Kino and Hermes inside, the building is typically used for harvest festivals, concerts, and elections.
It seems your character is no longer an audience member, but a part of the story itself. They may explore as they wish.
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.
[....]
[blinking and looking around like "where am I...?"]
[blinking and looking around like "where am I...?"]
[there is a satchel and a dagger on a pedestal]
[He looks around, and behind him, as if he can figure out who might have left this here]
[is someone missing a ...thing?]
[...no?]
[is someone missing a ...thing?]
[...no?]
[...?]
[Okay. Time to snoop. What's in this satchel?]
[Okay. Time to snoop. What's in this satchel?]
Inside is a thick but otherwise nondescript book with a sturdy leather binding.
[hHHHMMMM]
[He turns it over in his hands a few times, then opens it up to see what's inside]
[He turns it over in his hands a few times, then opens it up to see what's inside]
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?
[ ...Okay, this is already a little weird.
He tries not to think too hard about the room and takes a look inside the satchel first. ]
He tries not to think too hard about the room and takes a look inside the satchel first. ]
Inside is a thick but otherwise nondescript book with a sturdy leather binding.
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
we_meet_again
2022-02-12 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
[We are in a field of flowers now... but this seems normal, in that way that dreams do. It's beautiful and vast. And those voices sound so familiar somehow...]
[Is the pedestal with the satchel, book, and dagger still here?]
[Is the pedestal with the satchel, book, and dagger still here?]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
quickpersuader
2022-02-12 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Nope. But he's now wearing the satchel, and he's got the dagger and its sheath on him.]
[ Hmmm...
He takes the knife on the pedestal, then opens the book to see what's inside. ]
He takes the knife on the pedestal, then opens the book to see what's inside. ]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
we_meet_again
2022-02-12 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
[oh okay cool. Right where they belong.]
[He starts walking in the direction of the singing voice]
[He starts walking in the direction of the singing voice]
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─
quickpersuader
2022-02-12 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
[At the sound of movement among the flowers, the singing suddenly cuts off. Though, the reason isn't so mysterious, because Kino quickly sits up to see just what the source of the sound was.]
...Oh. I didn't realize there was another traveler here.
Are you losing your lunch?
[Kino pauses for a beat.]
...You mean, "losing your touch?"
Yeah, that!
[Anyway, Kino's standing up, patting stray petals from their long brown coat.]
...Oh. I didn't realize there was another traveler here.
Are you losing your lunch?
[Kino pauses for a beat.]
...You mean, "losing your touch?"
Yeah, that!
[Anyway, Kino's standing up, patting stray petals from their long brown coat.]
Re: Prologue: “Amidst a Crimson Sea” • b ─Blooming Prairie • b─
we_meet_again
2022-02-12 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
[He smiles warmly when he sees them.]
I had no idea you had such a good singing voice.
I had no idea you had such a good singing voice.
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