Recuérdame.

[riptorn]

[Those of you who wish to see those who passed on? You'll be directed outside by Zeus, where he raises his arms, and marigolds begin to float around him. They float upwards, and form into a bridge.

It's structurally sound, and it seems fitting that you can cross it.

Eventually, you'll see it. Elysium. The Land of The Dead. Gentle music plays as you cross over into the city.

It's...festive. It's always festive. The architecture is colorful and full of spirit, and your group seems to be the only ones...human in appearance. Even your old friends seem to be a bit more skeletal in appearance. You can spend as much time here as you like, but eventually, that bridge will disappear. And you'll have to leave.

But...they'll never truly be gone. Not if you remember them. And someday, you'll join them. But for now, you celebrate. You've earned your happy ending.]

(ooc: This is the last log for the three canon rounds of Foolish Mortals! Thanks for coming along for the ride - we loved having you, and we hope to see ya real soon!)

Comments

y'know what lets just do this Now

[terribibble]

[Good to see someone else has the proper priorities.]

Yep! Perfectly-tuned, even.

... It's good to see you again, Julia.

cool. great. i love dying and being dead.

[amadeusrockette]

. . . I'm sorry I didn't manage to catch you before - I'm sorry.

[She pulls something from her pocket.]

I don't know if you ever saw this, but I wrote it for . . . you and Mr. Ford, a little.

1/2

[terribibble]

S'alright. There was a lot goin' on, a lot of folks millin' about, you couldn't have--

[terribibble]

Oh. No. Is it music?

[What else could it possibly be. He reaches out, like he wants to take it but isn't sure if he should. This feels monumental, somehow.]

[amadeusrockette]

[It is! She scribbled it down during the regrouping, so the staff is kinda wobbly and it's not the neatest thing she's ever done but this exists. Fiddleford owns this now.]

I think I gave Mr. Ford a copy once, but - [Mainstreet burned down, so.] I figured you would need another one.

[terribibble]

[Oh... Fiddleford can't really tear up what with not having tear ducts, but his expression does do some very interesting gymnastics in an effort to stay steady.]

Oh, honey, you wrote this? For us?

... You mind if I try playin' it?

[amadeusrockette]

Not at all! I wrote it for you to play.

[The song itself has the hallmarks of someone who is used to the piano, in that it sounds a lot like something Vaness Carlton might write. It's fine, though. It sounds good on banjo too.]

[terribibble]

[It's been a while since he's sight-read, but it comes back to you easy, like riding a bike or calibrating a particle cannon. A few uncertain plunks and then he's got it. It melds nicely with the ambient music all around them, and more importantly it just magnifies the bittersweet happiness he's already feeling. The lyrics feel... very right. Even now that he's dead, they feel right, because this is just another kind of beginning, isn't it?

When he's done he lets his fingers rest on the strings for a long moment before looking up at her. Even with his face as different as it is without flesh, his blue eyes are the same, and right now they're very soft.]

It's beautiful, Julia. Thank you. Thank you so much.

[amadeusrockette]

You're - [She's going to say 'you're welcome,' but that feels wrong.] It was my pleasure.

[It's harder to let go, the second time. She knows that it'll be fine because he'll be in this place with his husband and they'll visit or she'll visit but there's a certain weight to it this time that wasn't - maybe it had been easier the first time because she'd thought they'd never see their friends again. Now that they've just gotten them back - there were so many things she wanted to do yet and it's hard. It's hard knowing that nothing will come of them.]