II. Plot
Sept 4, 2020 18:29:25 GMT -7
Post by Kunabee on Sept 4, 2020 18:29:25 GMT -7
The gray world is incomplete.
Perhaps, once upon a time, it was a full world. Perhaps it had color and life and sound created by its very own inhabitants, by the beings who called the place 'home'.
There are people here, figments and ghosts, of all kinds of species and types. There is a memory here, old and breathing. And the overwhelming feeling of always being watched and observed. Anything that breaks the gray is important... or comes from another place. Another time. Another person. The gray world feels ancient and young both. It breathes. It watches.
Perhaps it is some kind of experiment. Perhaps there is some scientist at the helm, observing what will happen to people locked in a world that seems so perfectly designed to drive someone crazy.
In many places, faint music can be heard. Old melodies. They can be recognized. The songs come from memories, although the songs have their own style - a whole band in the background, a voice for music that has lyrics. It sounds like it's coming from a music box hidden behind a wall.
Perhaps the world is fragmented and trying to gain power. Perhaps it is trying to become full and real, and it does so by gathering people from other worlds with more power than itself.
Memories don't work well here. Some people remember their whole lives. Others barely have a name, or perhaps not even that. It allows communication regardless of language. It strips powers from some, gives powers to others. No matter how you enter the gray world, you enter it changed.
Perhaps there is no way out. Perhaps it is possible to escape.
There are families, friends, loved ones of all types beyond this gray place. But perhaps being here is easier, safer, kinder than leaving. Regardless...
The artifacts in the house must be the key.
Perhaps, once upon a time, it was a full world. Perhaps it had color and life and sound created by its very own inhabitants, by the beings who called the place 'home'.
There are people here, figments and ghosts, of all kinds of species and types. There is a memory here, old and breathing. And the overwhelming feeling of always being watched and observed. Anything that breaks the gray is important... or comes from another place. Another time. Another person. The gray world feels ancient and young both. It breathes. It watches.
Perhaps it is some kind of experiment. Perhaps there is some scientist at the helm, observing what will happen to people locked in a world that seems so perfectly designed to drive someone crazy.
In many places, faint music can be heard. Old melodies. They can be recognized. The songs come from memories, although the songs have their own style - a whole band in the background, a voice for music that has lyrics. It sounds like it's coming from a music box hidden behind a wall.
Perhaps the world is fragmented and trying to gain power. Perhaps it is trying to become full and real, and it does so by gathering people from other worlds with more power than itself.
Memories don't work well here. Some people remember their whole lives. Others barely have a name, or perhaps not even that. It allows communication regardless of language. It strips powers from some, gives powers to others. No matter how you enter the gray world, you enter it changed.
Perhaps there is no way out. Perhaps it is possible to escape.
There are families, friends, loved ones of all types beyond this gray place. But perhaps being here is easier, safer, kinder than leaving. Regardless...
The artifacts in the house must be the key.
