mayorityvote | 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 ~~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!))

Main Nav Week Two

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... what if this is why everyone else is talking about the magic of marriages now? What if we'll be their babies?

[ Help, she doesn't even know where to start with this thought, now that she had it. ]