Rising Sun [text/action]

[mother_of_god]

[Her last memory is heat and rust and darkness. Now there is light and life and comfort- at least, more comfort than she's felt in seven years. (Or less comfort for part of her that has lived a life free of constant pain.) She sits up with difficulty, blinking in the bright. The air is clean, carrying a fresh smell she'd forgotten after half a life in a basement room. The world is green and dazzling and living. Birds twitter, leaves rustle, a breeze rolls past her ears; no beeps or rumbles or electric hums.

[Dread creeps up her insides.

[A cat meows. She peers at it in surprise, then notices the scroll. A few moments' fumbling with bandaged fingers and it's open. She reads, silently, then turns her attention to the Vine, which unfurls its parchment and stylus helpfully, apparently aware that speaking isn't high on her list of strengths. She reaches for the stylus automatically, before realising that her fingers are too restrained to operate it. But there's another way.

[The Vine offers a new text to the residents. Unusually, the words aren't hand written, but singed into the parchment.]

Is this Paradise?

Comments

[fionna_time]

Paradise?

I don't think too many people here'd call it that. They miss their own worlds too much.

You must be new then! I'm Fionna.

[mother_of_god]

[She sighs with relief.]

Then God isn't here. That's good.

My name is [a brief pause] Alessa.

[fionna_time]

[To herself] Glob? Wouldn't be here, right?

Nice to meet ya Alessa! You ok? Can I do anything for ya?

[mother_of_god]

[She thinks the question over.]

I don't know. I don't know where I am.

[fionna_time]

Well, you're probably at the vines, so the garden, I think.

I can go find ya if you want!

[mother_of_god]

[There's silence for a long time in response to that. She hasn't wanted to be found for years, and the urge to hide is strong. But there's another urge now, unfamiliar (and familiar) and small but persistent.

[She decides on a compromise.]

I'm a witch.

[It's a warning and a test.]

[fionna_time]

Oh.

Well, long as you're not throwing any spells on me we'll be cool, all right? I got turned into a bunny a little while ago, it sucked.

[reverentresistance]

Paradise? No, it's certainly not, although it's also not Hell.

[mother_of_god]

[A sigh of relief]

Am I dead?

[reverentresistance]

What? No, of course not.

[mother_of_god]

How did I get here?

[reverentresistance]

The Queen of this realm likely took you from your own world. As far as I've determined, there's no way to convince to her to return you. Although some people do go back, it seems to be random.

[mother_of_god]

Can I stay? I don't want to go back. I think I died. It would be bad anyway.

flowery script (this is a valid option)

[histrionic]

No, because there's no such place.

particularly on the Vine :V

[mother_of_god]

God was going to make Paradise.

I'm glad She didn't.

so very true

[histrionic]

There is no Paradise, and there are no gods.

[mother_of_god]

Then it is safe here.

[histrionic]

There is a tyrant here, yet she is no god, but a queen.

[mother_of_god]

Does she cut off people's heads?

action;

[headlessfoal]

[Vivi is... floating overhead and totally staring at you...]

[mother_of_god]

[She looks up after a moment and starts. Then stares with deep concentration.

[Then her body crumples to the ground as a second body rises from it, whole and unmarred, clad in a blue school uniform. She joins the stranger in the air, watching her warily.]

[headlessfoal]

[HOLY SHIT. Vivi's hands press to her cheeks in an animated mime of surprise. She decides maybe she should come investigate.]

What's up, kids?

[mother_of_god]

[She stares at Vivi's hair for a bit, then catches herself and looks away.]

where am i? is this Paradise?

[That is a very small voice there.]

[headlessfoal]

Uuuh.

[Wow, girl, you gotta speak up. Vivi leans in closer, straining her neck to proffer her ear.]

I dunno. It's this place, whatever it is.

[mother_of_god]

[OHGODDON'THURTHER! Leaning in should not provoke a flinch.]

did... are we dead?