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GRAVEYARD ✨
POPULATION: GHOST TOWN
You die - and then you wake up.
For a second, it feels as though you can't breathe, and then your head breaks the surface. You crawl out of a pool of blood and into a large, crystalline room. Moving images play across the crystal walls, and if you watch close enough, you'll realize that you're seeing the land of the living; a familiar space station with familiar faces. You can watch these images for as long as you'd like - there are several very large benches (as in, you have to climb them to sit on them) around the room for you to rest on while you do.
Regardless of how you died, it seems as though you're not quite gone completely. You're in one piece, at least. That's good news. However, your surroundings are not exactly what you remember.
When you exit the first room, a bleak, empty city sprawls out ahead of you.
The city itself is large. The framework of it seems to tower higher and higher than you can see, up into the black opal sky that shivers and curls every so often. A river entirely made of blood runs through the city, winding around buildings and ending at the crystal room. The most noticeable thing about the buildings themselves is the fact that thorny vines made of pure white steel dig into the walls and floor, cracking the foundations.
The residential building is worn down and old. It's two floors, and has a few small studio apartments built for one or two people to live in. The beds are extremely uncomfortable. It has a communal area downstairs, but the TV is broken, and the couches are torn apart. Sometimes, this building feels obscenely hot in temperature, and smells like rotten eggs.
The grocery store is your typical convenience store. There's a large selection of food in this area, but it all tastes the same - like chalk. On top of this, every so often there will be bloodstains on the walls, the floor, and the displays. They change in size and location, each time you enter the store.
The clothing store is thrifty in nature. All the clothes here are uncomfortable and scratchy, and don't fit quite right. While you're here, time feels... weird. Distorted, almost dreamy. As you're picking out clothes and trying them on (no money needed, just take what you want), you swear you can hear a gunshot in the distance.
Enjoy your time in this city, and remember...your story isn't quite over yet.
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Well...have you considered trying cheese instead?
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Please keep your cheese proclivities to yourself.
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[And just...walks over to pluck some of the cheese from the floor.]
Maybe I should take some off your hands?
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Nor would I be opposed to sharing some of the nuances of cheeses--or as much of those nuances is left, what with the chalkiness.
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[Hm.]
Very well. Explain the nuances of these cheese to me, then.
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[everyone thought douman was baby but in the end they're just bitch]
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It's not an issue of heaviness, it's an issue of the cheese taking up more physical space than my arms can carry.
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[Now they're starting to understand why it was fun for Limbo to make fun of this guy.]
[Douman never liked people with too much pride on their hands.]
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[ I guess Vlad's just been holding a shitton of cheese this whole time and gradually losing a few over the course of it, so. He's gonna set all the cheese down on one of the shelves, pick up the loose ones, and then:
Stuff a few in his pockets! Jams some into the waist of his pants! And...boy, that still leaves more cheese than he can carry, huh.
He stuffs some down his oversized-shitty-graveyard-jacket sleeves, like he's a teen boy trying to beef up his biceps with tennis balls! And THEN he gathers up the rest of the cheese in his arms. It piles high, a veritable mountain liable to fall apart at any moment, but if Vlad maintains this arm position the whole time, and keeps his chin tucked over the top of the whole thing, surely nothing will go wrong here! ]
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[Douman is. Trying. Very, very hard not to laugh.]
There you go! You can do it, Vlad.
[SNNNRK]
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[ And here we go, steadily, haphazardly walking with his legs spread and bent, like some kind of wild west cowboy stereotype. But also he's hunched over the cheese, like he's a gorilla.
He navigates the aisles, but then he's faced with the door. Will you help, Douman? or will you leave him to perish? ]
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[Its lucky that this clown is nice enough to open the door, though.]
Go on.
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He moseys on out through the door and to speed things up, let's say he makes his waddling cowboy way over to the kitchen of their shitty apartment building, where he unceremoniously dumps all the cheese in his arms on the table. And then begins to methodically decheese himself and his clothing as well. ]
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I don't want to taste the ones that were in your pants.
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[ just. casually sets apart the pant cheeses to a further corner of the table. pant cheese quarantine. ]
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...
Okay, now what?
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It looks like there isn't much variety in types of cheeses here, but at least there is a good amount of different cheddars. Here, let's start with a simpler one, shall we?
[ He picks out one of those tiny snack-sized blocks of cheese, labelled simply as "CHEDDAR." He opens it and splits off two chunks, one for himself and the other for Douman, held out for them to take. ]
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[What an unusual name. Douman takes it, giving it a sniff, before tasting it...]
Ugh. It's just chalky...and weirdly sharp?
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I'd say this is still a rather mediocre cheese, but certainly better than I expected.
[ i'm making shit up here, but hey, i'd rather make shit up about cheese than football, so. ]
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[This weird...cheese addict.]
You and your cheeses...I don't know if I like it.
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