✿ 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.
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.
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.]
[ huh
well. it's either ominous or helpful that she's been given a gun? ]
well. it's either ominous or helpful that she's been given a gun? ]
[Her voice echoes somewhat in the room(?)
There is no reply.]
There is no reply.]
...c'mon, you could at least give me some directions.
[Hm... nothing could possibly be wrong with this situation.]
Hello?
[You would think she would know better than to ask 'hello' in a room when she's completely alone. She'll start by approaching the pedestal and picking up her new gun and looking it over!]
Hello?
[You would think she would know better than to ask 'hello' in a room when she's completely alone. She'll start by approaching the pedestal and picking up her new gun and looking it over!]
[The only other visible things in the room are the pedestal and the satchel on top of it. Possibly she will need to direct herself to examining that.]
[It's a nice gun! Maybe a little old-timey (by 2022 standards), but fully loaded.]
[ okay. let's look at the satchel. what free prizes await ]
[Inside is a thick but otherwise nondescript book with a sturdy leather binding. Even if she looks through the other numerous pockets, that seems to be the only thing inside.]
[Hmmm... she'll keep it! It might come in handy.]
Let's look in here...?
[What is in the satchel?]
Let's look in here...?
[What is in the satchel?]
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?
The only thing seems to be 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}
identitypolitics
2022-02-12 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ well. she's going in search of the singing voice?? ]
[Going to thumb through the book a bit~ tell her more!]
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