schoolisin | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: All y'all
When: Day 1 – Morning
Where: Everywhere
What: School is in

[Somewhere, a bell begins to ring. You may know the type—obnoxious and loud, signalling the start of a brand new day of lectures and learning. Rise and shine, lovelies; wakey wakey eggs and bakey! And with that, just as the toll falls silent, you hear the sound you may have been waiting for: the click of a lock.

You're free to explore.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

. . . another place with teams. [he's frowning again] I'm Shinichi.

Teams and amnesia. It seems to be kind of a theme.

That doesn't sound like a name from a team.

Unfortunately. Is it Aather, then? Or - the library?

[he lets out a small sigh] My nickname was Quartz.

Sorry, but neither.

... You'd rather be Shinichi, then?

. . . you mean to tell me there's a fourth place?

Please.

... You might want to sit down for this.

. . . [okay sure]

... It was a castle. I've never been quite clear on if it's the castle, or the empty void plane it occupies, but it's generally called Kyriakos.

There's... monsters, or something like it, that goes around and wipes out worlds. They get completely unmade, it sounds like. Most people just cease to exist, but sometimes, some people don't get unmade, they just have their souls shattered. The Queen of that castle, a fucking idiot who shouldn't rule a playground, much less a country, brings one of those shards to the little plane Echoes occupy, so we lose all our memories and skills because our souls are gone. We wake up with these mirrors that house the shards of our souls, in our team's dorm and colors, with our patrons there to look after us.

The Echoes run games of all kinds, and we compete, the winners getting pieces of our souls back, and eventually restoring our worlds. But in the process, we don't know whose memories are whose until we try them, so we all tend to see our team's memories... and my teammate is Bluebird, from Sabra.

. . .

[that sounds both better and worst than the other places he's heard of so far]

That's . . . new.

W-Wait - you lose skills? And - you accidentally share your memories?

Yeah, I still don't have all my magic back yet. And all the damn time, no matter what kind of memories they are. Gets damn humiliating after a while.

I can only imagine . . .

Is it different where you were from?

Mmm. They came back as berries, and we knew which ones were ours.

We didn't lose skills, either, but then again, you didn't know what you were capable of until you remembered it anyway.

What, did the berries come labeled?

No, we just . . . knew.

... You magically knew which berry belonged to you, but we can't figure out the chunks of our own souls.

This is bullshit.

I agree wholeheartedly.

Anyway, it's time for you to explain, since all I know of Sabra came from disjointed chunks of memory from someone way before your time.

How the hell was it still there, and working? The gods shouldn't have anyone left.

They started bringing people in from other worlds, when there was no one left from their own. They'd promise someone a wish - anything they could want - and in return, they'd give up their memories and come to Sabra to play in the games.

"I do this willingly".

... And her escape route didn't work?

What escape route?

[it takes her a minute to respond, taking a deep breath.]

You remember what I said before, about restoring people's worlds?

. . .

Ah. It might've, but . . . when Clockmaker died, it messed with time, too. There's two timelines that I know of that point. Maybe more.

[Shakes head.]

It's not that. We've been told that... When our worlds are restored, we can change things. We can change whatever we want, under the restriction that our changes can't contradict our memories. So we can't change anything we remember, but... Bluebird had the idea of adding an escape route. She wanted to save everyone in Sabra, so she said she would add an escape route in some place she had never checked, then go to find it... or something like that.

Ah . . . it may work, but I don't know how . . . it would affect anything, really. If at all.