ERode

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

"Ehehe," Yuudai grinned, even as he brought his hand up to mask that grin. Everyone knew poets had to play it cool, after all, but it was always nice to get some genuine praise about it, especially when his siblings just groaned and plugged their ears whenever he tried to get feedback from them. "Doesn't seem like the Prez's doing anything to me though. Everyone else...well? Okumura-san's patching up the worst of the lot, but for a bus crash, I think we'll be alright."

...

Daisuke clicked his tongue while Mayumi shook her head. They had both expected there to be no signal, but seeing it up close like that...well, it wasn't great. "Yuudai's already taking a measure of everyone," the golden-haired athlete said. "And as for what we got on hand..."

Well, the good news was that, owing to the lack of sudden explosions and such, while everyone had hurried themselves off bus, they didn't necessarily book it either. The boys had carried most of the bags that they could see, after all, and a cluster of them had been tossed onto the grassy field afterwards. No one looked to start rummaging through it though, entranced as they were with either their situation or their preoccupations.

Mayumi looked at it, then at the notebook she had in her hand and grimaced. "I'll take an inventory then, Nagashima. Endo! Make yourself useful and get over here!"

...

"Yeah," Tsubaki replied curtly. "It's the Otherside."

There wasn't much else to be said about it, not from her. Kogen, fortunately, was uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps because his delusions had finally become reality, and reality in turn had been both disappointing and terrifying. Regardless of what Ayana herself said, however, the short-haired girl continued to look after her, parting the hair around her head to assess as best as she could the state of the bruise. And as for what Ayana herself saw?

Perhaps it was because the adrenaline hadn't died off yet, or the situation hadn't sunk in yet, but most of her classmates were indeed getting it together. The clearing was quiet, as far as she could tell when a bus was still crackling and burning, while Prez went off to make sure Rin was never alone. The others stayed together, some offering comfort, others getting to work. For as dire a crisis as it all was, it also wasn't too bad.

After all, it was a lovely day, a clear blue sky marred only by black smoke rising hundreds of meters high.

...

Branches broke as expected. Though some of them were younger, and thus had the flex to ignore Rin's efforts to break them off the stem, the older, drier ones snapped off cleanly. She'd need a proper cutting tool to get any limbs of substantial size, of course, but if nothing else, the tinkering savant's foraging attempts at least confirmed that those unfamiliar trees were still made of wood. At the edge of the clearing she worked, pointedly ignoring Masato as he strode up to her. Just as they did in school hallways and yards, in the PE shed and homeroom class, the Prez's words fell upon deaf ears.

Physical tasks took the mind off of reality as easily as thoughts of duty and responsibility did.

Rin, in her pursuit of survivalism however, forgot a step that preceded bushcraft. Before you started taking care of your basic needs, you had to assess. Assess yourself. Assess your belongings. Assess your surroundings.

It was Masato, indeed, who was in a better position to see it. See Rin's hand, as she reached for a thicker, deader branch. As she broke it off and revealed six eyes within the shadow.

Matted fur of a light gray streaked with darker patches. Four limbs, long and gangly, that ended in a set of hooked claws. A head that looked to be a mixture of a wolf and a bear, saliva dripping out from its open maw. A beast of proper size, as big as a deer, as muscled as a carnivor Where there were Portals, there were monsters. And what was the burning bus, if not a massive signal? A signal that something foreign had encroached upon their territory. Something foreign and something fresh. Furless beasts, not clad in armor and technology, bearing neither blades nor firearms, all of them possessed with the softness of juveniles.

Masato had no time; the wolfbear was upon Rin in an instant, its snapping jaws clamping down upon the branch she had just broken off rather than her face. Hooked claws snagged against her belt as the beast to press its skull closer to her head, human and hunter scrambling upon the field, the branch breaking beneath incisors that looked much too sharp to belong to a beast that merely hunted for surviv-

"HIYAHHH!"

In one moment, the wolfbear's six eyes loomed over Rin's face, and in the next, two leather shoes burst into view instead. Maki had arrived with dynamic violence, launching from a sprint into a dropkick!

One that could definitely have laid out any wild dog or wild delinquent back in Kuroshio, but one that had only snapped the head of the beast back and...nothing else. It remained atop Rin still. One eye closed from where the heel of the schoolgirl had impacted, but five more still focused on devouring what laid right beneath it.

Maki herself sprung back to her feet, raring for violence, but even she was forced to pause at what she saw next.

It was a wolfbear, after all. And wolves hunted in packs.

Two more of them slunk out from the darkness, fangs bared, ferocity unleashed. And, perhaps as a measure of just how little threat a handful of infants presented to these monsters, the two shot off around Masato, Maki, and Rin instead, sprinting down for the other students further away, their bellowing howls matched only by the students' shrieks and shouts.

But where could they run? Where should they run? Could they hope to outpace the beasts if they leapt into the thick brush of the surrounding forest? Could they shelter around the still-burning bus, using the primal fear of fire to temporarily dissuade those wolfbears frmo approaching? Could they instead all group up together, in an attempt to intimidate the monsters with sheer biomass alone? Could they climb trees? Duck under brush? Stand and fight? Throw food and hope they'd take the easier meal?

Whatever thoughts spun inside their heads, those students at least had the luxury of a few seconds of thought, which was far more than what Rin, Maki, and Masato had.

But amidst the mounting dread, the seconds that would decide which lives spiraled downwards into death...

You felt it. You saw it. You heard it.

A warmth. A sunny spot. A light. A cell. An egg. A sticky membrane, stretched over your skin.

It tears. It splits. A cocoon. The earth and the blood. Burned until charred.

Black was the bark. Hollow was the heart. Hollow until now. Now filling, filling, filling, unmaking.

Recreating with reds and violets, warmth in inferno and storm, tremors invading deeper and deeper, rippling implications like echoes in the auditorium, voices upon the mountain range, whispers into your homemade mug, dreams that left nothing but fragments, impressions in cubism until you're lamenting for all that you discarded without your knowing!

For the shackles of liberation! For the stains of awakening!

Act.

ACT.

ACT!

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

Verity was two seconds away from turning Maive into the next Sofia, before something truly, utterly, hilariously strange happened: the day darkened, the bookish woman started muttering to herself, and with the invocation of 'PERSONA', a cocoon of storm gave birth to massive hand that squeezed the bus-sized toad with such force that its mouth was forced open.

Presumably, there was some correlation here, so of course, while Verity was still hanging off of Maive's back, she tried it as well.

"Persona."

The only response to that attempt was the inflation of the toad's mouth though, and before it could belch out its tongue a second time, Verity sprung off of Maive, kicking off the woman's head like a swimmer from a diving block. An instant later, a shockwave of force barely grazed the soles of her feet, before she was rolling in the detritus of shrubbery and ruin once more. Not a tongue, which was good, because that meant Maive wasn't eaten. But an air cannon was also pretty bad, and while Maive's ghost friend could squeeze the toad, the toad's breath was enough to send her ragdolling into a tree before smashing her skull against the trunk.

It was a miracle that her head wasn't lolling about at some odd angle. That her brains weren't painting her lips.

And really, it just sorta proved that one ghost friend wasn't enough when you were a human being up against a bus-sized frog with a taste for human flesh.

...

"Ha..."

Verity picked herself up. Funneled her thoughts down in one direction. What did she know about toads. What did she know about this toad? It had no useful front limbs, but cannot walk. It possesses the ability to leap great distances. It shoots out with its tongue, and can shout in the same method. It hasn't shown much ability to turn around; it probably couldn't. Its tongue was sticky, but Sofia hadn't been crushed to death yet, so that was fine. Alright.

Running over to Maive, the pale-skinned girl returned the favor, delivering a hearty slap to her face before pulling her behind the tree. Tongue would have to go through a tree first. Roar wasn't strong enough to uproot it as well. All that mattered would be whether or not the toad went for another big jump, but they had a bit of time anyhow.

"Listen up." Her hands grabbed the sides of the bespectacled bitch's face, fingers pressed against her temples. If Maive didn't, then she was just bait. "It's a toad. Can't walk on land with how it is. Get your ghost to carry you. Fly close and fly around it. Bully it that way. If it leaps up for a stomp, throw yourself away and get the ghost to go for the belly. Think like a rat. No, a roach. You're a roach with that thick head of yours. A magic roach. Scurry around and fuck it up. That's how you get Top 15 Science Track out."

Her eyes flickered back and forth, checking to see if the toad was happy to eat or hungry for more.

"Now, tell me. What are you?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@PigeonOfAstora}

In time, the heat faded.

From the room, and from her heart.

In the absence of conflict, Serenity allowed herself to settle into standstill, drawing in deep breathes. There had been no space to exchange any final words, and in the same way, there was no reason now to imagine rebuttals or clear up any confusions. All that remained was self-reflection, a simple one at that. On one hand, perhaps she had severely overestimated her opponent's abilities, if he had believed that she could actually threaten his life, under the premise that she was armed to the full extent of a noble of House Arcedeen. On the other hand, she was certainly lacking still, if her thoughts naturally rested upon the lack of divinely-blessed armaments, of ancient blades forged by immortal craftsmen, of shields that shone with holy light, as what was necessary for murder.

If she was where she wished to be, a shortsword that melted like wax in the embrace of bloodfire would be sufficient. One would simply have to strike faster than it could melt, pulverizing rather than cutting into flesh.

But she wasn't where she wished to be. And she knew that.

Serenity pressed her palm against her eyes, brushing away the sweat and tears. Shifted her hand lower, pressing her thumb against the side of her nose. Breathe in deep from the mouth, breath out quick from the nose. Clogged up blood splattered against the tomb, the only real blood that was spilled in that frenzied exchange. Her armor was singed at parts, but not compromised. Her weapons, outside of the shortsword, were still intact and capable. Her comrades were still fighting, both above and below. The vampire and demon that had both lurked within the crypt had chosen to excuse themselves of whatever else remained.

So really, what was there to do?

Three steps, crossing past the saber and the hand, before she retrieved the flanged mace. Seven strides, bringing her to the threshold that the four Iron Roses had descended down into. Now, just one fli-

Lein came in view, the hundi's expression a mask of paranoia and fear, dread and anxiety.

Serenity stared at him, then let out a long, long sigh.

"The axeman's still up above. Do you plan on assisting with that, Lein, and leaving the Captain another man short?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@Raineh Daze}

At his words, Serenity simply gave him a look. If it was a mistake to disarm an opponent, if it was a mistake to even bother injuring an opponent, then what, exactly, was one supposed to do against the foul denizens of the dark?

Well, from the perspective of someone who had so heartily acclimated to that other side, perhaps that was simply the way things ought to be. There were, after all, immortal monstrosities that even now are better left alone than challenged. Far too many, in truth. A host of crones possessed with the high-minded arrogance that their age-addled minds granted them. Someone ought to cast them from their lofty thrones, someone ought to return them to the history books that they belong to.

As Damon continued with his theatrics, Serenity simply staked her shortsword through the dismembered hand. Watched it twitch and bleed, writing like the disconnected thing it was, as he began his puppeteering. Blood turned to flame, and flame melted steel into slag, burning with such intensity that dwarven forgemasters would question the purpose of coal and bellows. She could imagine now, where his confidence in facing against the Paladin stemmed from. A magical flame that could melt metal like wax was certainly a more effective weapon against an immortal than a greatsword. All the better then, that it was Serenity here rather than Tyaethe.

Her shortsword was lost in the pursuit of knowledge. Her mace laid beyond her reach. Three daggers and a hatchet. Enough for a mortal foe but worthless against a vampire. As she was, there was no hope of catching him if he sought to maintain distance, and considering his predilections, his confidence in his immortality, his boiling blood would always earn him more in an exchange of blows.

But she was resolved for that.

Dust sifted from the ceiling. Those three were still fighting, against a foe not nearly so insurmountable as this one.

Wind whispered through the gap. Those four were still advancing, purging what evil lurked within the crypt.

Another bolt sang through the air, its trajectory read at a glance. She shuffled through the tomb now, slipping past the thrust of the flaming longsword. A dagger swept out against the line of blood that connected the severed hand to Damon's arm, but as one may have expected, a reconnection was established within the instance of a breath. Parrying was no longer possible, and if the sword could pass through tempered steel without pause, armor was useless, no matter the price one paid for it. Even the air itself was heating up, the dampness of the crypt replaced by the heat of a sauna, and freed from the limitations of elbow and shoulder, from even the necessity of requiring proper edge alignment, the flying sword became an opponent like none else.

It was an experience like none else.

Serenity no longer left room for thought. She weaved and slid, daggers flashing to buy instances of reprieve as her mind burned at the sheer focus that her task required. The vampire lurked in the corners of her vision, arbalest loading and firing in concert with the nonsensical movements of the blood-flame sword. She reacted in turn, sound still surpassing the swiftness of the bolts, giving her enough time to instinctively shift out of the way of both blows. Patterns emerged within those eternal seconds, the flex and flux of the bloodline hinting at future directions of hand and sword. Pinpricks of pain pulsed up and down her joints, protests at the frenetic duress she placed them under. Sweat stung eyes that she could not afford to close. Blood trickled down from her nose and stained her lips. Another appeared, a proper demon, but she had no reason to acknowledge them now. Names slotted themselves into her memory, phrases stored away for future contemplation.

Now, however, it was a challenge alone to evade.

...

And yet, evade she did.

Serenity did not advance, but as seconds crawled onwards in the death-dance of blood and body, of conflagration and circumstance, she also did not truly retreat. Even now, her pride remained. Even now, she stood at the center of the chamber.

Even now, the tombs and statues of the departed Cazt remained unscathed, except for marks left by errant arrows.

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

Others roused themselves at Masato’s shout, some still groaning while others leapt up to their feet, scrambling for their belongings. The Ito twins, as Rin had understood, were quick to recover, rushing out from the front doors. Daisuke, alongside Maki and Fujita, took more than their fair load of discarded bags, urging others still weakened by the aftereffects of the crash to get going, while Kumi’s face transitioned from a sickly green to a mortified red when Yuki approached to help her, only to end up stepping on her vomit.

It had been a traditional Japanese breakfast. Miso, natto, fish, and rice, all chewed up and semi-digested, now a sticky, acrid mess that somehow even managed to overpower the stench of gasoline. A lesser man would have squirmed and writhed, would have been unable to hide the flash of disgust. But Endo Yuki? He had dealt with worst, and was happy to take Kumi by the hand regardless, leading her out to the back.

Mayumi, still trying to find her glasses, didn’t have a chance to act on the president’s orders before Rin had sprung into action. And as other students began filing out best they could, especially Shun who was swinging her hands like a baseball team advisor urging players to steal a plate, she resigned herself to being half-blind and scrambled out after the rest.

Kogen’s dramatics were enough too, to wrest Tsubaki out from the mound of cushions she was underneath. The short-haired girl yawned as she was pulled out, her free hand rubbing her head as if trying to shake cobwebs (or concussions) out of it, before the severity of the situation dawned upon her and the simplest thing she could say was…

“Fuck.”

…

But they all got out alright.

In the end, as Shun stood at the threshold of the back door, waiting for an epic explosion to jump out from…nothing happened. There was only a fwoosh of gasoline being ignited, before the front end of the bus caught fire. Oily, black smoke rose up in thick plumes, polluting the picturesque skies above. It had been an accident, to be sure, but as for the injuries…only superficial cuts and bruises were sustained. Some were woozier than others, having fallen down after they had all cleared away from the bus. Others had lost some of their belongings during the exit, though Hiroshi recommended not re-entering. Even after Shun had ate the bitter pill of disappointment, hopping off of a bus that wasn’t going to explode dramatically, smoke was still building up inside there, streaming out from open doors and cracked windows. Soon enough, the cushions would catch fire, and then, perhaps by tomorrow, there would be nothing but the charred husk of a bus.

Kumi was retching again, her empty stomach still trying to hurl things up. Of all those out on the clearing, only she could really smell it. Beneath the heftiness of smoke, laid the umami aroma of crackling fat and flesh, boiling blood and bone. The slight girl doubled over a second time, Hana rubbing her back with an unreadable expression on her own face.

No, perhaps, going by where she was looking, perhaps this was the first time in a long time that her expression was readable.

Gone were mountain roads and saltwater breezes, countryside desolation and rice field terraces. In its place, there was a cerulean sky and a hot sun. A forest of foreign trees, and a clearing of lush, uncut grass. It was nature, picturesque and untamed, unspoiled by even a hint of civilization. And, though no one really knew the how, the where, the why, they all knew the what.

This was the Otherside. This was what laid beyond a Portal.

…

“Well, Prez?” Daisuke folded his arms, looking down at Masato. “What’s next?”

Mayumi cast a glance over at him, glaring. Or squinting. “What do you mean by that? This isn’t school, Nakagawa-san.”

…

“Sit down, you two,” Tsubaki snapped, gesturing at the most obviously injured duo. “And stay still. Ayana-chan, look at my fingers. How many are there? And Ko-kun, hold fucking still. I’m trying to clean it up before you get an infection in your eye.”

“Dunno why you give a shit.” A familiar voice, crude and callous, sounded. Akito. “It’s survival of the fittest, Tsubaki-chan. Those clowns’re liable to get offed first when shit g- OW! Maki, watch where you’re going!”

…

“Heyo, passin’ by,” Yuudai sang, popping up before Shun. “Everything alright, Kanamori? Trynna tally up where everyone’s at right now. Emotionally and all. Ah, and...”

He managed a softer smile, gratitude dimpling his cheeks.

"Thank you for the shout,
But Nobel Peace Prize a doubt,
Poetry I..."

His brows furrowed in concentration.

"...seek out?"

...

Perhaps this was how they coped.

Perhaps they were simply made of stronger stuff.

Or perhaps, they were being willfully ignorant.

Of the children of the Otherside.

Of the monsters.

Decibitus

---

~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

A mesh of bone criss-crossed out like a network of nerves or blood vessels rather than what they truly were. Neither a barrier nor an obstruction, they served only to be caught in the deluge of tendrils that slipped into the gaps before splaying out. The net was torn apart in mere seconds, the necromancer’s magic doing little to dissuade the flower-wisp’s wrath.

But Edward only needed a handful of seconds.

For in the next instant, everyone in the room that had even the slightest sensitivity to magic could feel it. A tingling upon their skin. A tremor of truest power. Twas the wrath of the storm condensed, black clouds forced into the shape of a black gem, a weapon of destined destruction forged by the greatest smith within the realm of the dead. Today, all wisps would learn to fear him. Today, Edward was motivated!

“Witness my power!”

Arcs of electricity gathered upon the magical focus like a Tesla ball, before the invocation of the reaper sent a stream of power right towards the surging vines. They tried to curve away, to evade the blast, but what plant could outpace sky-fire? It carbonized instantly, green replaced by smouldering black as electricity raced upwards into the main body of the flower-wisp, before exploding with such force that the massive phantasm was sent flying back!

Back, dragging the lights down with it.

Edward saw all those entirely physical lights falling, falling, falling.

Upon crowds of people who just now were noticing something was wrong.

…

Dragon breath scattered against the Globe of Invulnerability, ethereal flame generating neither heat nor smoke as Vera’s shield held strong. Her sword was at the ready now, her bastion enough to withstand the skeletal monstrosity’s blast. Amid the roar of phantom-blaze, she could hear the crackling of Edward’s lightning, the accompanying crash and crack of ceiling and wisp.

And then, the ear-piercing ring of the fire alarm.

But all this, she could only hear, sealed as she was inside the haze of flame. Her defensive position meant that she had to wait this out. To wait for it to fade. Even if she knew, experienced as she was, that the act of casting ended before the effect of the casting. That a dragon breathing ended before the dragon’s breath.

By the time the flames scattered, Vera was already a step behind. The skeletal dragon had changed targets, about-facing to charge right for Lucian and Celeste, its jaws open this time to maim rather than burn. And stuck deep in a corner that the airhead reaper’s good fortune had guided him towards, there was no room at all now to get out of the way.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@Raineh Daze}

"Far more desperate. Far more forward." Words echoed, their fight stalled for a brief moment. Serenity narrowed her eyes incrementally, hollow light within the cerulean gaze. There was nothing pleasant about such laughter, even if Damon wasn't a blood-thirsting zombie. "You would compare yourself favorably against the common people of Thaln, yet ignore that unlike them, you were born into House Cazt."

Born to privilege and education, to mannerisms and the noble's obligation. To be an exemplar that common folk aspire towards, to be the paragon that common folk shelter before. And that was not a duty one was freed from in death, for their life has been blessed many times more than the son of a peasant, a merchant, a craftsman, a servant. If they were a steward of the land, it was their duty to see it flourish. If they were gifted the swordhand of a war-spirit, it was their duty to restrain it, to lash out only against foes of the realm.

Your Ancestors rest in the Elysian Fields.
Die they may, but forever stand as humanity's shields.

She would not understand Damon. Damon could not understand her.

So onwards, the shadow-dance continued, wind whistling and sparks clashing as steel met steel, boots sliding against cold stone, dust kicked up into clouds of haze with the blasphemed crypt. She could see it in his face now, curiosity and thought behind the veneer of a vampire-noble. But so long as he remained within the realm of a duel, she could follow along. His manual of swordsmanship was centuries out-dated, and as for herself? The lion was ready to try.

Steel sang its deflectional parry, the longer blade's tip flicked aside by the forte of the shortsword. In the same motion, Serenity released her grip on the mace, momentum sending the flanged head towards Damon's face without any telegraph. It wasn't a maiming throw. Just a distraction for what happened next.

A step to the side. A spin of the wrist. Shortsword slicing towards the extended forearm, angled so that even if retracted, flesh would be drawn against the edge. Free hand now, grasping the blade. Pulling at it, pulling with the intent of disarming a vampire who would hopefully have just had the tendons of his arm severed.

And if not? Then that was fine too. The more weapons Serenity discarded, the lighter she got.

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

Where Mel was quick to cut questions off, Yasu was totally fine with answering in the older cleaner's place. After all, Honest never turned on the radio, so someone had to fill up the silence! Why not herself then?

Sitting in the back, with ol' Niid stuffed between the two of them, the odd-eyed cleaner was more than happy enough to chatter on about all the relic-demon-books that were absolutely awful to read. There were self-help books that turned out to literally be a possessive, controlling parent in text form that would brainwash you into becoming a perfectly boring adult. There were stereotypical books of evil that tempted you with the power to summon murder demons (rarely) or sex demons (commonly) at the cost of your soul (wallet). There were books that would consume all the time in the day once you made it past the first three pages, forcing you down deeper and deeper rabbit holes of fictional lore and conspiracy. And of course, there were books that had pictures in them that once seen, could never be unseen. Outis was no library, but that simply meant that forbidden books could proliferate to all corners of the cursed city, infecting even the mindspace of the illiterate.

By the time the car arrived, Yasu was about one-third of her way through her personal listing of cursed literature, and she was the third to enter as well. It was building barren, but not dilapidated. Accordion music flowed within, a novel instrumentation in a time of synthesized beats, while the poster that remained upon the wall...oh, fun! 90% of what she saw featured some form of the 'first hunter', but then there were outlier posters in the last 10%: fat green men traipsing in swamps, rock bands with wild hair and wilder makeup, a swordsman sitting on a lawn chairs, slasher films inspired by childhood cartoons. She was curious too though, about the consistency of music, and while Emm and Niid did as they wished, the Tiger Cub drew her sword as well.

Polished to a mirror sheen, enough to reflect her mouth. To reflect her mouth in the infinitely-branching presents and futures. To sate what she wished to learn, from the Yasus that found themselves in similar, yet alternate, situations. So she mouthed those words, and that odd eye of hers' read the reflection in the sword.

'Accordion music'.

'Violin.' 'Piano.' 'Grand piano!' 'Some sort of plinking thing?' 'Rock. Classical.' 'Just screams. Human.' 'A wolf howl.'

Damn. She sorta wanted to see a wolf...

"I'll take the right then," Yasu said, sheathing her sword again. "Or, wait, Emm, we could just get your friends to do all the searching, right? Flush 'em out with rats and all. Ah, but Niid's already off...Cam, could ya go with him?"
'

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 0 | Location: Kuroshio Community Bus

It had been an ordinary day, for as ordinary a day as a monsoon could have been.

The bus, more crowded than normal owing to the unpleasant weather, thrummed with conversation and action. The Ito twins went over English flash cards together, fumbling over any word that was longer than three syllables. Yuudai, buzzcut already dried, teased Tsubasa over the perm that her hair always became in weather like this. Ayano, as always, fussed over the bags beneath Fujita’s eyes, her chidings much too affectionate for Kumi on the seat behind the couple, who turned up the volume on her smartphone higher but failed to realize that her headphones were unplugged. Hana leaned against Maki as the two went over their mock exam scores together, muted whispers belying the gravity of their academic situation, while Daisuke and Yuki swayed with the bus, challenging each other in a duel of core strength. Perhaps it would have been a duel for the ages, if Mayumi hadn’t marched past to get to her usual seat in the rear, where she could watch the happenings and goings of her peers. Others kept to themselves, flipping through their smartphones or going over their study notes. The day had been ordinary, and the day would be busy.

No one thought much of it then, when the bus driver, the sixty-three year old Fuchizaki Takechi, let out a strange sound. Barely any of them even heard him, in truth, so wrapped up as they were with the future that was encroaching upon them.
But none of them could ignore the light that swallowed them up one second after.

…

Disorientation. Discombobulation.

As if their guts were being rearranged, as if they were plummeting down a spiral staircase. As if they were detritus in the ocean, scrambled by incomprehensible undertow. They were sublimated by the light, atomized and categorized, abstracted into concepts of egos and attributes, before stitched together in patchwork mosaics. In one instant, they felt themselves amongst individual grains of sand, and the next, they hurtled through eons and galaxies, grasping onto the substance of stars!

And at the apex of that impossible high, they crashed. Dragged down by gravity, their substance funneled into the thread of a meteor’s tail as they twisted and twisted and dropped and struck! Bound into flesh once more, trapped in entropic decay, their stomachs churning, their brains aching, every blood cell rushing through their veins possessed with a frigid cold or a searing heat, their senses stirred to frenzy by mismatched stimuli for an eternity and an instant!

Then, they felt the ground beneath them stop, and felt themselves launched forth by inertia, the first real force that had been applied to their body since the light.

Some caught themselves on poles or seats, whether with their heads, hands, or chest. Others found themselves sprawled to the ground or upon each other. A lucky few had braced themselves and only ended up crushed a hard surface. A terrific crash sounded in that same instant, the bus’s windshield fracturing like a spider’s web, and then…silence.

The engine rumbled still, but now that old junker’s rattling was accompanied by the blaring of the bus’s horns, over and over and over again, each screech driving another nail in their addled minds. Groans sounded aplenty, none of the students willing to get up yet. A nausea overcame their thoughts, breakfast bubbling with bile to crawl up their esophagus.

But you. You could smell it.

The heady, intoxicating stench of gasoline, leaking out from ruptured fuel lines.

That was how accidents went, right? A terrible crash, followed by a slow-motion explosion.

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

That was a big frog. A sharpened stick probably wouldn't help here, and it wouldn't even feel a rock slung by a sling, hm? And it came from the sea too. Sea-frogs weren't a thing, so that meant...

"Yup. This isn't Earth."

Sofia fell over. First to fall, first to die, but her sacrifice will buy others time. Victor was giving out orders he wasn't following. Frankie looked to be hydrated at last, and disappeared into the brush. Imogen followed soon after. Prodigious size alone made it out to be the sort of monster that could swallow them all whole. Were those webbed arms meant to help it swim, or could it achieve true flight too? Did it come here, chasing after castaways, or was it a migratory predator that leapfrogged (heh) from one island to the next? If she had an oxygen tank and some sort of hooking implement, could she ride on its back to the next island?

Mhmm, yeah, Verity could understand what was happening. In the face of the truly incomprehensible, she kept her emotions in check through pointless musings. And as its six eyes looked into the treeline, she sank further down into the brush, comfortable enough with following in the example of the birds and bugs. Her breaths measured. Her heart pounding. A smile on her face, and a flicker of regret in her mind.

Oh, if she had brought a gun to her swim, imagine how great their food situation would be!