לִילִית (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idharlotry) wrote2021-06-06 02:02 am
idharlotry) wrote2021-06-06 02:02 am
Entry tags:
DEATH
If you died, please submit the following:
Who: Who died?
Injuries: What injuries do they have, how did they die?
Fear(s): What does the character fear (perhaps the most)?
Squicks: What squicks do YOU want to avoid?
Post?: Do you want a post with Lilith?
Once Youji is around a Lilith meeting post will be made. Please note: the post is not necessary, but commenting here is if you are getting a Lilith revival. (If you're being revived by pep!pep! don't worry about this.) Also please note that threads are not promised to be consistent although I will do my very very best.
If you don't have the wherewithal for a thread, no big! Here's the Alternative Experience:
Who: Who died?
Injuries: What injuries do they have, how did they die?
Fear(s): What does the character fear (perhaps the most)?
Squicks: What squicks do YOU want to avoid?
Post?: Do you want a post with Lilith?
Once Youji is around a Lilith meeting post will be made. Please note: the post is not necessary, but commenting here is if you are getting a Lilith revival. (If you're being revived by pep!pep! don't worry about this.) Also please note that threads are not promised to be consistent although I will do my very very best.
If you don't have the wherewithal for a thread, no big! Here's the Alternative Experience:
Your character has died. They find themself in an odd place—if it can even be called that, for it keenly feels like nothingness. The outer fringes of nonexistence. There is no sound here, nor anything to see, or perhaps more accurately, your character has been stripped of their senses, unable to see and unable to hear, unable to touch anything around them. Here, they truly could just disappear.
After a timeless amount of time, they'll finally feel something: the sensation of being tugged, weakly at first before the phenomenon becomes stronger, the pull so powerful it would knock the wind out of them if it could, though when they finally stop—with all the feeling of inertia from stopping abruptly in a speeding car—they'll become keenly aware of their lungs, their mouth, their breath, their body. Pain, too; whatever injuries they had before haven't been fully healed, only enough that they aren't fatal.
Their sight is the last to return. They can see the bright lights of what looks like a bar, and . . . something pale wrapped in black approaching—a hand, fingers slim and long and covered in sea creature-themed acrylic nails.
Before they can react, the hand touches their forehead, as though gripping their skull. At once, a vision of their worst fear coming to fruition flashes through their head—or perhaps it's a memory of the worst time in their life. Regardless, it's hellish; it feels as though it could be real.
And then, they wake up in their room, no more than half a day later than their death. Perhaps their injuries are not the only souvenirs they've received in their little adventure . . .