A Strange Afterlife

[ginger_firebird]

 It had to be impossible. He could feel his skin. A pulse beat under his neck. He stood in front of a store window and regarded his reflection in the glass. Same black leather outfit. Same brown trench-coat. The fabric weight down on him and he rubbed his arms as he tried to figure out what was going on. A wandering spirit had doors to enter and exit when it came to the world of the living, but he'd never achieved something like this. It was alien and wrong and he had no idea where anyone was.

Mantis sighed, marveling quietly at the way his chest rose and fell with his breathing. It didn't matter. He'd keep moving and hope for the best. If this was some punishment for a misstep, he knew exactly who to take it up with.

"Sorrow!" Even his voice carried an echo. Mantis pointed himself into a new direction and began to walk. "What did I do this time, old man?"

Comments

[harness_the_harness]

"Oh, hallo! Excuse me, sir," a voice calls out. It comes from an older man with severe-looking features dressed in clean, professional attire. He's holding a glowing data tablet in one hand and waving with the other. Even with his stern appearance, his tone is friendly: "A moment of your time, please?"

[ginger_firebird]

Another person! A rather strangely dressed person. Mantis isn't one to adhere to notions of respecting one's elders, but it's the first step to an answer in this...wherever he is.

"If you really need it. I have no idea where I am right now."

[harness_the_harness]

"Ah! Hmmm." His brow furrows and he brings a knuckle to his chin. "My request might be a bit strange out of context, then."

His face brightens with an idea. "Perhaps I can preface with what I know about this place. I'm a new arrival myself, you see."

He pats the pockets of his coat and comes away with a pamphlet, already heavily creased and annotated. "This contains all of the relevant information. But suffice to say, this place is the multiverse. Or more accurately, the liminal space between universes. It's truly marvelous."

[ginger_firebird]

He understood only some of what the man had said, but what did register in his mind brought up a multitude of questions. Naturally, he knew of the spaces the dead could pass through, but this was spaces that affected the living as well.

Mantis nodded slowly and took the pamphlet. "Between universes. Like parallels and places where history is completely different..." He opened the pamphlet and glanced over it. At least someone was trying to make sense of wherever the hell this was.

"Can this place restore life to the deceased as well?"

[chiaro_oscuro]

"New here, I take it? Suppose I should welcome you here. You're in the Nexus. A...crossroads between the dimensions, let's say."

A young man with black clothes and dark hair watches the stranger, wary but polite. He hasn't gotten a good sense of this newcomer and Ben Solo, while he doesn't lash out the way he used to, is suspicious by default.

"You can call me Ben. If you're looking for information, I'd go see Captain Rogers' PSA, or find one of the pamphlets. This isn't a bad place to end up, but it takes some getting used to. I'm still adjusting and I've been here since winter." Ben hasn't counted the months, but he's been here at least since before the winter's ice melted. "Looking for someone?"

[ginger_firebird]

"Someone already gave me a pamphlet. I might need more time to fully understand this place, but the rules seem fairly simple."

Mantis tries reaching out to this Ben through his telepathy. It's a reflex more than anything overt and malicious at this point in his, well, life. He wanted to see if there was anything else to learn about this Captain Rogers and why someone as young looking as Ben would give him such a measured stare.

"I thought I was being punished again by someone. He's not here, so there's no point in looking for him."

[chiaro_oscuro]

A young man wearing a mask. This is...familiar territory, and Ben responds to the telepathy enough to let this stranger know that he has it, too, or at least something very similar. That gets his interest. Telepaths, at least human telepaths, are uncommon enough that he makes note of the ones he encounters.

"Not much in the way of rules here at all. It's a good thing and it's a bad thing. People who died in their world can't go home, and you have to be careful in the Wilds."

Ben dislikes having people in his mind without his permission, but as far as he can tell the stranger isn't being aggressive about it. So he doesn't try to kick the other man out just yet.

"I'm used to having my back to the wall, so to speak. So a place like this is taking some getting used to on my end as well."

[ginger_firebird]

A mutual interest. Mantis is not at all used to meeting psychics, let alone ones with his own kinds of powers. He throws up some mental defenses on instinct, but doesn't quite pull away from the mental link. He needs to know, if only by a little, how strong this young man was.

"I've heard that twice now. I have to go home. There's someone over there I am not going to be parted from." Mantis crosses his arms and shakes his head. "Whatever brought me here won't keep me. I'll find my way home somehow."

[tr1ckortreat]

The sight of the strange man wearing the mask and trench-coat caught Loki's attention almost immediately. He seemed lost and confused which could mean he was a new arrival to the Nexus. It almost certainly went hand in hand with most who were wrenched from their worlds seemingly involved in events from wherever point in their timeline.

"Sorrow? Are you referring to your feelings or a person, since it is hard to know which is the latter."

The god approached the strange masked man and wondered why he wore such attire. Could he not breathe without his device? Loki did find it rather unsettling to not be able to see a man's eyes since most viewed them as windows into their souls. They were harder to read and manipulate that way. The man would notice that Loki is wearing his Asgardian garb which was what he had been wearing since being snatched from his own world.

[ginger_firebird]

The trouble was that Mantis had long resigned himself to being stuck with all the other dead that The Sorrow personally took interest in. He had learned his lesson to leave the living be after realizing how futile it was to try and destroy Solid Snake in their last encounter. Sure, a restless spirit, but now he had a whole new problem to work through.

"The Sorrow. He's a medium who has made it sort of a mission to keep me from causing trouble."

There was little cause, in his mind, to deny having died already. The apparent living status he was in still bothered him. More importantly, he now had a third face to try and memorize. Green and black and gold? It seemed no one dressed normally here.

"How long have you been in this place?"

[tr1ckortreat]

A medium. A man of mystic magic perhaps. There was definitely something mysterious about the masked man and Loki was just trying to read him, even though the mask made that task a little more strenuous. He still seemed curious, so his questions would not go unanswered since Loki was in this same situation a few weeks back. Being thrust into a new unknown world was enough to make anyone uneasy.

"I have been here around three weeks now. This Nexus seems to take whomever it wishes to populate it's many areas. Different aliens, mortals, immortals, we all live here together."

The man's attire was not unfavourable since Loki too enjoyed a bit of black leather to match his green obsession. Even his scarves were green. The man's mask though, that was the main point of the god's fascination. It might be the point of personal preference or the man's main form of breathing equipment.

"What is your name? Also, why do you wear that mask? Can you not breathe without it?"

[neverseenhimbefore]

What a strange man. Lotor wonders what's wrong with him.

"I don't suppose your old man is here."

[ginger_firebird]

You're purple. This confuses the Mantis. What is this place?

"He's not even my old man. He's a busybody grandfather type who doesn't mind his business."

Alteans are in short sort of space elves

[neverseenhimbefore]

Yes, he's purple. One of the few things he gets from his father's side, genetically. Most of his looks can be solely attributed to his mother's side. Altean genes are strong.

Hm. He shouldn't have instantly thought it's about one's family. Shows his bias. Now he tries not to feel embarassed.

"So I see. And yet you've never told him to mind his own business? Or perhaps he simply never listens."

[hellsadvisor]

Belial has become comfortable in the Nexus and most knew to leave the angel to his business. He was never unfriendly to others but Belial had a head for doing, and keeping track of his siblings. Even with the anti-violence field they could cause mischief. That had him walking through the plaza; a tall pale skinned, dark haired man with black wings and all black clothing. He has a black, hawk-like bird perched on his shoulder that is actively looking around, but the angel, white eyed and blind, doesn't blink or cast a gaze away from straight ahead.

The question comes and is close enough that the hawk's eyes turn immediately on Mantis, but it is the man who speaks. "Which 'old man' is judging you?"

[ginger_firebird]

"The Sorrow. He's an old ghost who thinks it's better if I-" Mantis tuns his gaze to the one who addressed him, only to find words and breath catching in his throat. There is a lot to take in all at once, but the greatest impression is like the stories he'd hear as a boy about the magical people who live in the woods. He feels pinpricks along his skin.

He steps forward cautiously. This isn't someone who's mind he should even try to read. He's sure of that. No one on Earth looks like this. How did the stories go... Always approach with caution, never give your real name, be polite. "I'm dead back home. The Sorrow is a medium who does what he can to make me behave myself."

[hellsadvisor]

It is the hawk that shifts on Belial's shoulder, head turning to get an eye on the person speaking. The gaze is critical and definitely holds more intellect than an animal. There's a sense of the hawk's evaluation of the person in its gaze.

"I'm not dead but there's an old man back home who thinks he can make my brethren and I behave." Belial sighs and finally turns to face the person talking, the hawk adjusting to keep its eyes on the dead. Belial's eyes are white, cloudy and don't move. "It hasn't been as successful as he imagined it would be."

[eumenis]

Furiosa is seated on a bench next to a garden store, quietly cataloging something in a ledger while a short distance away a handful of War Boys load a cart with supplies. The Nexus is ideal for trade. So many worlds, and nearly all of them unimaginably wealthy compared to her own. She's been wary of becoming dependent on trade with this place lest they lose their gate to and from it, but you don't just turn down a drink of water because you'll only get thirsty later. They're stockpiling now, slowly but surely, setting up systems that will alter not just their Citadel but the entire region around them.

It's ambitious.

Regardless of her absorption in her work, she's attentive to passers-by, and when the stranger calls out, she glances up slightly, eyebrows raised. And then does a double-take. He's obviously not talking to her or hers, but there is something familiar in that style of clothing, and as much of the shape of the head beneath it as she can see. Bald and scarred is a War Boy look if ever there was one. What Mantis wears seems to be in newer condition than most of what her boys have, though.

Probably not from the Wasteland then, or even a parallel, but her gaze lingers on him curiously. "...lost?" she asks as he passes close by. Her voice is low and even, but there's quiet authority in her bearing, even if there is no inherent magical or psionic power to her.

[ginger_firebird]

His head whips to the sound of her voice and the sight kills any response he was prepared to give to such a simple question. It was like a scene from an old action movie, but somehow real people that were clearly working together. Were the men wearing...paint? Metallic paint? On their faces?

He's walking forward before realizing that he's doing so. He has no idea who this woman is or where she's from but game recognize game, and she's got a lot of it. He's known of two snipers in his time who had this kind of raw energy and he knew well not to overstep any bounds, lest he find out how quickly they'd skin him alive. He reaches out to see into her mind, but gently. Now that he knew people in this place were sensitive to his kind of powers, he didn't want to get on the bad side of a woman with a posse.

"New. I'm finding my way around." She's definitely used to being the leader, the question running though his mind is 'of what'.

[eumenis]

The men are painted grayish-white, a mix of chalk and oil, with darker accents around their eyes and noses and rubbed into the lines of their scarification. A few do have chrome paint here and there, although it's not the same chrome they used when Joe was their leader. Back then, the point was to get intoxicated on the aerosol fumes as they prepared for violent self-sacrifice. Now, the chrome is painted with brushes, is sometimes tinted in more than one color, and is a reminder that they're free to live or to die, as they see fit. Really, none of them have to wear paint at all, but old habits die hard, and anyway it protects their skin from the scorching sun.

The War Boys (not all are men, though there's a certain uniformity of dress and adornment so it's easy to assume so), are attentive to their work, but not oblivious to the stranger that's captured their boss' attention. One of the taller ones straightens, watching him thoughtfully. Generally speaking, Furiosa doesn't need physical protection and will fight her own battles, but it's part of her crew's job to watch her six.

Her bearing is a blend of military precision and street-brawler confidence, but there's nothing hostile in her posture yet. Sometimes the Nexus has an ugly side, but people here are friendly, or civil, more often than not. She has no way of knowing he's reaching out to her mind, and no defense other than raw force of will. Others who have read her before have sensed that she comes from a place of violence and pain--everything out here hurts--but experience has tempered her intentions. She's a survivor, willing to be ruthless in defense of her people and their home, but also committed to the principle of doing nothing more brutal than is absolutely necessary.

And right now, the bulk of her surface thoughts are taken up with calculating how much fertilizer they need for the sorghum crops.

"New and lost are sometimes the same thing around here," she tells him with wry humor, and tucks her pen in a loop in one of the many belts around her rib cage. "But you have plenty of space to decide if you want to go back to the place you came from. Some do, some don't."

And some can't, but she has no way to know whether that's the case for this one.

[silverseamariner]

"Looking for someone?"

There's a voice, cool and deep, as a large birdlike creature turns to face Mantis. skekSa the Mariner is roughly nine feet in height, added to by the feathered tricorn hat she wears. She has a bright red longcoat and a set of throwing-knives, along with a long, sharp cutlass that clearly isn't built for human use. She observes the curious dress with interest. Not any clothing style she's used to among humans, or Skeksis for that matter.

"I assume this Sorrow is a person back from the universe you're from. You're a newcomer to this place, then. Allow Captain skekSa to offer you welcome. It's a pleasure." She gives the man a nod and offers a clawed hand in greeting.

[ginger_firebird]

That's a big bird. Mantis backs up on instinct and finds the wall behind him with his back. Raven had been pretty damn big. It's like a puppet from those American TV shows for children, but this was clearly a living, breathing person, and ma'am, you are so tall. Mantis has never been dwarfed this hard by someone else before.

And she looked like she was the type to casually carry swords. Mantis nodded quickly at her words and touched the offered claw with a mildly shaking hand. "Psycho Mantis. You are a Captain? Is there an ocean around here?"

[silverseamariner]

"Psycho Mantis." The Mariner's voice is almost a purr. "Interesting name." She makes no effort to hide her size or her bulk. There's a long feathery tail snaking behind her, thick like a lizard's but covered in soft fuzz.

She shakes his hand, careful with her strength. Humans are more delicate creatures than Skeksis, something she has to keep in mind. "Yes, you're right. There is an ocean here, deep on the Wilds, though I've never been there. It's somewhere I would like to go in the future. There are other types here, but I am a sea captain."

[debonairsharpshooter]

Misfire is wandering about aimlessly in his holoav, flipping idly through a book titles 'Humans for Dummies'. And that sure was a rhetorical sounding question! But if there's one thing Misfire loves it's answering rhetorical questions. Well okay he loves a lot more then JUST that but hey, you gotta take your amusements where you can.

"Sorrow? Nah that's not me, mate. That guy's yellow and orange and turns into a bull," he pauses, face scrunched up in thought for a moment, "Actually, wait no. That's Tantrum. Not him either though."

[ginger_firebird]

Mantis could say something similar about a lot of people he's met, but he does appreciate that people are going to jape a bit, even at his expense. His head turns slowly towards the new voice, but not much else.

"You've got some interestingly named friends." Not that he can talk, bu Tantrum? "How long have you been in this place?"