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sheep_game2024-04-19 12:44 pm
thelastfirstborn) wrote in sheep_game2024-04-19 12:44 pm
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ritual 25: ｎｕｍｐｌａ
WHO: strangers are just friends We have not met yet
WHERE: the beach
WHEN: Day 74, evening
WHERE: the beach
WHEN: Day 74, evening
[ as the sun sets, you can see a bloom of glowing blue begin to trail along the shallows—the baby jellyfish dance to the gentle waves, and as it gets darker, they seem to look more like stars than creatures, reflecting the night sky's constellations.
it's beautiful, but you won't have long to enjoy them. something else—much much bigger than the moonjellies—begins to surface from beyond deeper waters, giving off a bioluminescent glow with a similar hue to the jellies. but whatever this is is more rigid, plant-like in structure—the tendrils that stretch toward the shore look more like plant roots than gelatin.
. . . the waves lap and recede, and a dead fish lays on the sand in its wake. through its stomach one can faintly make out that glowing blue in the shape of a rune—before it is speared by the furthest reaches of the root-like structure and summarily dragged back into the sea.
you may not have seen any of that, if you weren't at the beach. but even if you didn't, you may find yourself drawn toward the ocean anyway—where the roots have grown spindly, stretching out into the sky, stretching out to you . . . no, around you.
the next you see, you're in some sort of cavern, standing amidst tidepools holding galaxies of light: dozens of baby jellyfish, undoubtedly pulled in by the same mysterious force that you were. they float helplessly, as do you, and as the walls light up with symbols of an alien language, you hear a voice reverberate throughout the hollow in a tongue you do not understand. it hurts to listen to, not nails on a chalkboard but uncannily off, dissonant, at a frequency that somehow seems to rattle your bones and boil your blood.
still—through the forming headache, you can strain to understand: ]
Countless years, buoyant . . .
Countless years, roving . . .
Countless, lived and died.
We have waited . . . to meet you.
This tongue is not . . . appropriate . . . to speak to you.
We wish to speak. We will learn to speak. We will remember.
[ the light structures on the walls form nine grids in total, horizontally spread across at eye level. ]
A pact. You shall play. We Many shall provide.
IC RULES | OOC INFO | ASK OOC QUESTIONS HERE | SESSION LINKS | TRIBUTE PAYMENTS
it's beautiful, but you won't have long to enjoy them. something else—much much bigger than the moonjellies—begins to surface from beyond deeper waters, giving off a bioluminescent glow with a similar hue to the jellies. but whatever this is is more rigid, plant-like in structure—the tendrils that stretch toward the shore look more like plant roots than gelatin.
. . . the waves lap and recede, and a dead fish lays on the sand in its wake. through its stomach one can faintly make out that glowing blue in the shape of a rune—before it is speared by the furthest reaches of the root-like structure and summarily dragged back into the sea.
you may not have seen any of that, if you weren't at the beach. but even if you didn't, you may find yourself drawn toward the ocean anyway—where the roots have grown spindly, stretching out into the sky, stretching out to you . . . no, around you.
the next you see, you're in some sort of cavern, standing amidst tidepools holding galaxies of light: dozens of baby jellyfish, undoubtedly pulled in by the same mysterious force that you were. they float helplessly, as do you, and as the walls light up with symbols of an alien language, you hear a voice reverberate throughout the hollow in a tongue you do not understand. it hurts to listen to, not nails on a chalkboard but uncannily off, dissonant, at a frequency that somehow seems to rattle your bones and boil your blood.
still—through the forming headache, you can strain to understand: ]
Countless years, roving . . .
Countless, lived and died.
We have waited . . . to meet you.
This tongue is not . . . appropriate . . . to speak to you.
We wish to speak. We will learn to speak. We will remember.
[ the light structures on the walls form nine grids in total, horizontally spread across at eye level. ]
IC RULES | OOC INFO | ASK OOC QUESTIONS HERE | SESSION LINKS | TRIBUTE PAYMENTS
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