Your New Life

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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 DUCK DAMNED ISLAND that seems like it's really railing against whatever fate you've been left to. There are little seashells and sparkling fragments amongst the sand to the left of your face. If you look further, to the left and right, it seems you're not the only one who's woken up here; it's considerably less cushy than your last wakeup, but maybe that's not a bad thing.

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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[collisionheart]

[ The tears welled in her eyes spill out as Bibi takes her face. She wants to break away and run, to keep hiding forever, but she’s trapped by the gentle enclosure of Bibi’s hands and the gaze that’s impossible to break away from. There’s nowhere to go.

For either of them. ]

Bibi… We can’t do any of those things. Before too long, you’ll wish you weren’t trapped here with me.

[ Amy’s hands clench at her sweater. Every word feels pathetic. What does this matter anymore? What does any of it matter? Her heart feels so trapped on that glass jar. ]

You’ll wish you were out there. Out where there’s more. It’s here that’s less. You deserve someone strong, who can take care of you, who can do all the things you want to do.

Someone — someone… who isn’t less.

[jarcrash]

And just who is that person?

[ Bibi is not going to let go of Amy's face any time soon. They're locked in like this now. Since they're dead, they probably have all the time in the world... but at the same time it feels like it's now or never. ]

Where are they, these mysterious worthy people lining up to take care of me? Where are they when I eat my meals alone, when I want to go see a movie, when I need advice? Where are they when I'm about to waste my innocence in the eyes of the law on some no-good guy?

[ She'd already given up on killing Peter before Amy actually reached her, but that doesn't matter right now. It was still Amy that made her give it up, one way or another. ]

My, as perfect and beautiful as I am, you'd really think they'd all be lining up... but strangely, nope. Nothing.

You know who was there with me to help me out with my every whim? That was Amy Lee, a clumsy girl most people don't think twice about. It was Amy Lee who made my daily life so much fun that I question how I was ever able to survive before.

[ It's the closest she's ever come to admitting that she had been miserable - even to herself, she hasn't put it in quite those terms before. ]

So... how long do you want me to wait? How long do you want me to sit in the pits of boredom until my prince finally comes? How long do you want me to wait for something that I already have right in front of me? My, Amy, I could think you're being cruel to me.

[collisionheart]

[ Bibi talks and talks; the assured cadence of her voice washes over Amy. She isn’t calm, exactly, but her tears slow from a sputtering cry, her uncontrollable shaking mellowing to the occasional tremor under Bibi’s hands.

Her expression is still twisted and upset, but it’s softened: a different kind of anxiety, another flavor of fear, a guilty longing and a terrified sort of hope. ]

I’m not… I’m not supposed to…

[ She’s not collapsing, but it’s becomes more and more like Bibi is holding Amy up by her face. ]

I’m not well.

[jarcrash]

And I know that.

[ It's almost laughable that Amy says it as though it's supposed to be a reveal that could change Bibi's mind. Bibi's idea of a healthy mind might be skewed, and she might never be able to see it the way other people do, but it's never been difficult to see that Amy is struggling. It had been part of the package from the very first moment. ]

Besides, we're two dead girls. What does 'well' even mean anymore?

[collisionheart]

[ Amy doesn't sound quite connected. ]

I guess you're right.

[ There's not much more revelation to make, but it still feels like a confession. Bibi's right: they're dead. There's no bus to take, no one to escape, no way to leave this place. How deserving she is to take what Bibi's offering her shouldn't be so heavy. ]

I don't know if I'm strong enough to love you the way you deserve. But if you really think it would make you happy... I want to try my best.

[jarcrash]

... whether or not it'd make me happy depends on just one thing.

[ For once, Bibi's smile is gentle and kind and not nearly as forceful as usual. ]

Will that make you happy as well?

[ That's the emotion that makes you want to give someone their favorite sweets just because you saw them in a store window, right? That's what it is. The desire to make them happy. ]