Let's Play A Murder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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letsplayamurder2025-07-06 02:51 am
letsplayamod) wrote in letsplayamurder2025-07-06 02:51 am
Arrival
The moment is a bit different for everyone. Perhaps you were just minding your own business somewhere, others may have been in more... dire circumstances. Regardless, you were approached by a figure you can't quite picture, and they offered you an accord; in exchange for aiding them in the healing of a world lost to chaos, you would be granted something almost unheard of. Godhood.
And each of you said yes, more or less.
A blurry hand, shifting and rippling, reaches out to you. You feel a glow of warmth, unlike anything you've known before. As soon as you think you can describe it, you wake up.
The room you're in is plainly furnished, but it's about the size of a small flat. Plenty of room to stretch your legs. Don't get too comfortable, however. On the bedside table each room has is a letter; handwritten, it's wrapped around a bronze key. The lettering could only be described as the platonic ideal of 'neat and precise'.
If you are reading this, than our deal has been made. You've awoken in a place that will surely feel strange, so I want you to take some time to acclimate. Meet with the others. Breathe. I shall be along shortly.
-A
Whatever that means becomes more apparent as you step out of your housing and behold the world around you. The building you were in, and every piece of architecture you happen across, is blatantly pre-modern. Yet, something about it is otherworldly. Stone and iron and glass as far as the eye can see.
But above you was where the real questions were. It wouldn't be right to say the sun was shining on you now, nor would it be right to say it's the dead of night. Instead, the sky is a hazy mixture of both, wrapped in suffocating storm clouds that are threatening rain. Everywhere you look, into the horizon, it's the same.
Welcome home. Take your time and explore. Nobody ever said godhood was easy.
And each of you said yes, more or less.
A blurry hand, shifting and rippling, reaches out to you. You feel a glow of warmth, unlike anything you've known before. As soon as you think you can describe it, you wake up.
The room you're in is plainly furnished, but it's about the size of a small flat. Plenty of room to stretch your legs. Don't get too comfortable, however. On the bedside table each room has is a letter; handwritten, it's wrapped around a bronze key. The lettering could only be described as the platonic ideal of 'neat and precise'.
-A
Whatever that means becomes more apparent as you step out of your housing and behold the world around you. The building you were in, and every piece of architecture you happen across, is blatantly pre-modern. Yet, something about it is otherworldly. Stone and iron and glass as far as the eye can see.
But above you was where the real questions were. It wouldn't be right to say the sun was shining on you now, nor would it be right to say it's the dead of night. Instead, the sky is a hazy mixture of both, wrapped in suffocating storm clouds that are threatening rain. Everywhere you look, into the horizon, it's the same.
Welcome home. Take your time and explore. Nobody ever said godhood was easy.
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An inkling, at least! Do you recall being invited here?
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[They click their tongue as they roll the thought around.]
You?
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[because boy are you a lot]
Were you offered literal fine print of some kind, a signed document?
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[A thought.]
No.
[There was no such thing.]
Feels like they can get away with a lot more that way, huh?
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[The way they say it, it seems like that's their precedent.]
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[That. She doesn't MAKE it sound terrible, at least. But there's definitely some Southernism in there in spirit if in nothing else.]
So I guess you're here to help rather than for the promised compensation, then?
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[They nod affirmingly, wings flapping.]
What about you?
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[She shrugs. And then grins.]
And I was literally made for greatness. If someone wants to call that potential for deification, I'm not going to argue.
[Much.]
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[Crito lights up at this information.]
I’ve never met someone else who was made before. Everyone else I’ve ever met was born, including Mother!
[It only strikes them now that it might have been an isolating experience. But never mind that!]
What were you made for?
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[Normal things to say.]
I'm guessing that's not the case for you?
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[The thought of fighting is…disagreeable to them, somehow.]
I was made for my job.
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[Sure, why not.]
I'm a guide to the afterlife! Yours, even, if you're lucky.
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[n e a t]
So how's exactly that work?