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mayorityvote) wrote2024-03-10 05:51 pm
mayorityvote) wrote2024-03-10 05:51 pm
Your New Life
Another New Life
You wake up to the sound of surf, much, much closer than you've ever heard it unless you moseyed down to Puffin Pier back in the old days. What old days...? Why, the days when you had a body, of course. The memories are probably coming back by now, jumbled along with everything else you lost. What a wake-up call.
But at least the ocean is real, unlike your dubiously fragmented remembrances. This little island out in the middle of nowhere sports a crude sign reading
Here, you're free, albeit... kind of incorporeal, as you'll soon find out. The island is covered in pretty little trees that don't quite form a forest, bowed over the really beautiful sandy beach that is way prettier than the one on the mainland. One, slightly rickety treehouse -- bare of anything, because incorporeal ghosts don't need furniture, of course -- peeks out from between the leaves. This is, apparently, your home away from home now.
Finally, there's a small bay-like area on the island that leads you to a strange-looking storm drain, marked with a symbol that's not-quite-an-apple. Stepping in will wash you alllllll the way back up to Puffin Pier, right where the sewers normally let out.
Oh, and once you step onto the mainland? You're now a duck. What kind of quacking afterlife is this.
((OOC: the tldr; about death is here!))
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The falling, quacking ball of feathers turns into a feather storm when she startles the puffins -- they fluff up from their nests a bit in startlement, but refuse to leave since, you know. Nests. (Or rather, burrows, tucked in between the protrusions on the cliff and difficult to actually fall onto from above. Luckily!) Eventually they settle back down, grumbling suspiciously at her and gaping their beaks to try and look more intimidating. They do not look a great deal more intimidating, except perhaps to a particularly small duck. They are puffins.
Noisy under neighbor! they cry at her, No egg for you! No egg! No fish!
Fun fact: There's a few stray fish on the cliffside that broke Amy's fall. Congrats on smelling literally fishy now.
As for Keito, if he was looking closely while all this hullabaloo was going on -- not only will he see that the puffins have also decorated their nests with flowers, but he'll see something glinting in one of the nests. Just a wee glimpse.]
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Don’t hurt me!!!!!
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it's not like a diamond sort-of-glint is it? as much as he wants to investigate it more, amy's safety is priority here. also he can't just walk up to a nest and not get puffin-mauled? so after a glance, keito slowly drops his way down to where amy is, while repeating apologies. ]
Umm...I'm terribly sorry about all this! We don't want eggs or fish from you! We just came here by accident and didn't mean to mess with your beautiful nests.
[ he hopes they can magically understand him too??? ]
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Hmph! Other under neighbors quieter! Very very much quieter, one of them sounds more like a drum than a bird now, making displeased thumping noises somehow with its beak; while the other-- Quieter and don't move! All the under neighbors!
At least it seems as though everyone can understand each other, even if it looks like they're still being treated like the home invaders they are........ The glint did not look much like a diamond. Too dull for that.
After a moment more of giving them the evil birdie eye:
Presents? Presents? Forgive for presents!
... apparently puffins are the live and let live sort. Possibly because they're always living with like 34 members of their family.]
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thank goodness keito's still carrying his sack of random stuff for reasons. one of which is a glass jar of paper confetti leftover from his ill-advised darts booth. he carefully fishes it out and holds it out as smoothly as possible. sudden movements sound like a really bad idea right now.
while he's doing all this, can he look around to see if he can get a better idea of where the mechanical sounds are coming from? ]
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Keito save her with paper confetti. Save her Keito. ]
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Color! Color, flowers, together, color! Color, fruit, together, color...
While it's all distracted with its new prize, Keito can also hear the continued translation noises -- it's definitely coming from one of these two burrows. The other puffin bobs its head up, looking like it's squaring its shoulders. Perhaps it's indignant? Its neighbor (puffin) seems to have no intention of sharing.
Two sorries! Two presents! Two visits! Two presents!
Just how many presents are needed to make up for their error.......]
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H-here!
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[ okay, looks like amy's up! in the meantime he'll mull over the whole color, flowers and fruit thing while trying to sloooooowly step a little close to the burrows in the guise of shuffling his feet sheepishly. he wants to see what's there... why couldn't he have bought binoculars? classic detective blunder. ]
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Apparently regifting is frowned upon. Also:
Two presents! Two houses! And two presents! Two sorries! Houses and houses!
The puffin that had drawn itself up stamps its foot like a little soldier. Luckily, the fact that it’s all stood up and stiff means Keito has a better view at the burrow past it. There’s definitely something else in there. Perhaps...... is that paper? Looks like it’s been appropriated as part of the nest.]
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guess who conveniently has a SHIT TON of paper in his sack. he's gonna take a huuuuge stack of various cute stationary out, as well as two paper bookmarks with pressed flowers. this should be four items? maybe? he can dig out more stuff as needed.
your move, puffins. he's gonna watch their movements closely, especially the ones nearest the burrows. ]
I see you're using paper, so how do these look? And what do you think about pressed flowers?
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The standing puffin seems pretty excited about this new and colorful assortment, flourishing its wings and beak a little at its neighbor; the puffin with the paper confetti has somehow managed to get the jar open and now there is suddenly confetti. Everywhere. It's a veritable explosion of confetti for all parties and all party-like.
Little flowers, new clothes! Little flowers, new house! ... is apparently the reply. Are they just showing off to each other. Now both of them are staring at Keito's papers expectantly.
He has an Audience.]
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I don't have any other little flowers on me, but if you want me to change the shape of these for your house, I can do that.
[ it's hard to do in duck form, but he does his best to fold some of the paper still nearby him into something bird-like and then crumple others into a neat little ball. that's nice and distracting for puffins, right? a total mood-raiser after all that? at least he hopes so. ]
Did you need more of these for your nests?
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Two sorries! Two presents! Two visits, two presents!
Then the one that first received the glass jar waddles back into its burrow and comes out with... a sheaf of lined journal papers. It places it in front of the papers that Keito is assembling.
Two neighbors, two presents.
Judging by the way it's tapping its beak against the folded papers, it seems rather pleased. Apparently, there is some sort of trading going on.
These particular papers contain extensive text that seems to be written in some kind of code. What Keito can read is probably what appear to be little puffin, duck, and other bird emojis written down and sprinkled throughout the entries. There doesn't appear to be a way to read this just yet.]
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Oh, thank you so much, that's very sweet of you! I'll be sure to keep it safe, so you should take this in return, Puffin [ -san ].
[ time to work particularly hard on making a nice fish-shape out of non-code paper for the puffin! and also small talk. puffins are hopefully even friendlier with more small talk, right? ]
It's such nice paper. Actually, it makes me curious where you got it from.
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Just as there's a loud BEBEEEEEP from Amy's direction, it begins:
Under neighbor. To those who live under us. There are those before who went under, and never returned. There is only paper, and fruit, and forest neighbors left. We are all--
There's one more grumble of puffin noise that never gets translated at all; looks like it's time to move on.]
END
Chronicle LXVII
This is only a preliminary hypothesis, but the Junimos’ special connection to birds and their very possible connection to the movement of souls could be related; I’ve long suspected that the cycle of life here – metaphysical life, that is, in addition to the physical – is somehow localized by the forest and to the town thanks to some miracle. And what is more miraculous than the forest spirits?
It’s said that the concentration of magic in an area is strengthened by the concentration of souls – and this may indeed be why the cycle of the Junimos and the Astera exist as well. By making sure the concentration of souls in the area remains stable, self-sustaining or even growing by other means, the Junimo are able to maintain their own magic and the magic of the soil. There is no greater fertilizer out there, and not in the sense that blood is spilt here.
Therefore, and this is speculation from my own observations over many seasons and from interacting as closely with the Junimo as one might be able to only here in Puffin Town… the Junimo may be tied to the cycle of death and rebirth as well. I’ve not been able to confirm whether or how souls are reincarnated – though I have a sneaking suspicion about those puffins on the cliffs – but the fact that signs of the Junimo are frequently spotted at funerals, at cemeteries or in areas that have seen great bloodshed in the past can be no coincidence. They do not show themselves as they do at the festivals; perhaps out of respect, or perhaps because what they must do is not for mortal eyes. But I feel confident in the ideas that I must now test, as the domains of magic and of souls have always been two sides of the same coin.
Chronicle LXIX
Having attended numerous Puffin Town funerals, I'm not sure why it didn't strike me before now – though the ceremonies differ according to the wishes of the deceased, there is one common feature throughout: the Enlightening, or airing of burdens, to put it simply. All of the gathered bear witness to any grievance, grudge, or complaint that the deceased carried in life, recorded in a manner similar to a will and read aloud to all in attendance. The belief is that in letting past burdens float off into the clouds rather than be buried in the ground with them, it lightens the soul. And making the soul lighter is an essential part of the rebirth cycle, for a bird cannot take flight weighted down.)]
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It struts around the ledge, seemingly showing off to all the thirty-odd some other puffins all around. There's more zippercalls and growling bird noises that come from both the cliff and seemingly deeper within it, or maybe that's the echo off the pier. There are a lot of puffins in the audience now.
The standing puffin, henceforth sweater puffin, struts back into its burrow and comes out with something glinting wrapped in more journal paper. Equivalent exchange is real.
Two neighbors, two presents! Presents! Presents!
Perhaps you should look more closely?]
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Instead, the strange little device rolls over the paper a few times, a light blinking on it -- there's a singular BEBEEEEEEP and then a mechanical voice says: RECALIBRATING............ PLEASE STAND BY. SCANNING EXTANT TEXT.
A little laser light beams over the paper, and the mechanical voice continues reading out the following..... in quacks:
Chronicle LXXII.A
I’ve still not been able to directly observe the transference of souls, but the movements of magic in the soil and around the animals of the community – and particularly the avian species – seem to bear out my hypothesis so far. The next step will be to create a way to listen in on the communications of those species; are there those of them that have more sophisticated systems of communication than we might suspect, only in bird language? I cannot speak to the villagers about this; they would think it the ramblings of a senile old man, though they trust me on most other things. Perhaps it is indeed the mad scientist in me, or perhaps it is the sane scientist that conceals his findings in times like these.
Chronicle LXXII.F
The trials for creating the bird translator are going well, though the materials are hard to come by out here – it chagrins me to say that it cannot be created entirely with magic nor with the usual fruits of the harvest, but must also rely on modern technology (or as modern as we get out here). The next step will be calibrating the device: the best way to optimize a language device, magical or technological, has always been to have it record and interact with actual conversation, so I think a trip down to the pier is in order...
Once this exchange is complete, and they've gotten ahold of all their goodies, the puffins waddle back into their burrows and continue chattering to themselves -- or perhaps it's just that you can no longer understand them, because the device has stopped translating puffinspeak. Maybe it's time to use it for other things.]