The Thread In Which Two Indentured Slaves of Psychopathic Maniacs Discover The True Value Of Friendship In A Series Of Events That Transpire, Ultimately Creating a Paranormal Postal Service In The Mean Time

[celestialSprite]

((This title is boss))

[amnesiaticTrombonist]

((That title is indeed boss. Sorry this took so long augh, so I'm assuming we're starting with/post death but if I'm wrong just say so and I'll delete/change this!))

The Helmsman couldn't quite remember how his final moments transpired. Something didn't go well. Maybe it was a revolt, or perhaps he'd steered in the wrong direction and hit something? All he could recall was a bump, the ship veered off course with the momentous jolt. The tendrils surrounding him slipped clipped and curled away in their own instantaneous death, leaving him in a shriveled heap on the floor. His eyes shut down, dulling crimson and cobalt, the tumultuous noise outside the engine room lulling him to a long-deserved sleep. Upon awakening, he felt... good. He felt normal. He felt like he could stand, and walk, and lift reasonably-sized objects. He could run and yell and his optics no longer bled, and for some time he did the things he now could. He ran and walked and screamed and smiled, and he didn't hurt. But he was alone. For a long time he remained that way, reflecting upon his too-numerous sweeps, waiting.

[celestialSprite]

The Handmaid sat up and groaned, it seemed that she had dreamed of the confrontation between her and the Condescension. She held her head in her hands as she flopped ungracefully to the side, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't with the abnormally large horns she used as a clothing rack sometimes. So she ended up in an odd position, with her body half off the ground. With a grunt, she righted herself and stood up, examining her surroundings. Then it hit her, it wasn't a dream, the confrontation was real...Meaning she was dead! With a triumphant shout and a little jig, she celebrated her long sought out freedom.

[amnesiaticTrombonist]

What was that? A shout carried its sound from far off, past a hill of solid nothingness. His legs felt great and his lungs unable to be depleted. "HELLO?" Stumbling at first, he took off, sprinting toward the sound. Maybe he wasn't alone. Upon reaching the top, he dropped, sliding halfway down before digging his heels into... what was it anyway? Soft and pliant clouds? He wished it were normal ground, maybe with grass, and that was what it became. He peered out, his gaze reaching out to a dancing troll, recently freed of her servitude. "Handmaid!" he called, lifting his legs to slide to the bottom.

[celestialSprite]

"Psionic?" she called, turning around, a wide smile on her face. Her feet stop abruptly and approach the other troll, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.

[amnesiaticTrombonist]

With a squeeze and a twirl the Helmsman, or... No, he wasn't the Helmsman anymore, was he? He wasn't any sort of helmsman, except perhaps of his own afterlife. The thought thrilled him. In any case he set her down, clapping his hands on her shoulders, "Took you long enough! Finally done with such pressing destruction?"

[celestialSprite]

Her skin around her eyes crinkled as her smile widened, "I had a simple recruitment job to finish. And yes, my reign of terror and destruction has finally ended." she answered, looking up at him. "I see that you are well."

[amnesiaticTrombonist]

"Good good, and better than ever!" The troll pinched at his hand and stretched it behind him as far as it would go. The skin didn't break and his bones didn't crack, "There's much to take advantage of in death! Except for the odd lack of souls, shouldn't there be more in a land of the dead?" A short huff escaped his lips and he grinned, soft and warm at the troll beside him. "It's great to see you here, as morbid as that may be."

[celestialSprite]

"That's good, and yes it is quite; but imagine that a beach is the after life and each pebble is like a tiny world. We're just in one of the many worlds at the moment." she explains, nodding in response to his question, "It is not morbid to be glad to see a fellow ghost, my friend."

[amnesiaticTrombonist]

The Psiioniic chuckled, arms folding before him from a lack of else to do with them. "It's difficult to imagine, having never been to one. But I suppose isn't then? A double deathly negative?" Maybe his comparisons were running away with him, "But we've a long time to figure that out don't we? Even longer than our combined times?"

[celestialSprite]

"Well, the dreambubbles are not permanent structures, even though how sturdy they seem to be. But it is best to take one problem at a time in these situations." she explained, folding her hands behind her back. "It is best to not dwell in one for too long, every memory; both living and dead exists in this reality."

[Sponsored content]