bakerstreet | Train to the Afterlife Meme

Train to the Afterlife Meme

The Train to the Afterlife Meme

Congratulations: You are dead.

Maybe you know how, maybe you don't. Perhaps the memory is fuzzy, or perhaps it's crystal clear down to the look in your comrades' eyes. Maybe it was your time; you've done all you wanted to. Or maybe you weren't at all ready to go, maybe you went out kicking and screaming - but none of it matters. You know you're dead, and the train is taking you to an afterlife. Perhaps an afterlife of your choice; you might've earned that heaven. Or perhaps you've earned something else entirely.

It'll be a bit of a journey, though, so you might as well take your time and talk to the other people in your coach. Death knows no place: most of them are strangers, even from faraway worlds. But death knows no time either, so who knows, some of them may be people you know, even if last you knew, they were alive - or long gone.

Oh look, here comes the snack cart.

All the usual:

Post with your character's name and canon in the subject line.
Said character is now dead for whatever reason - canon, AU, what have you. They are on a train with other dead people from many other times, places and worlds.
Characters don't know for a fact where they're headed - just a general awareness that they're going to some kind of afterlife. Whatever they think it is is up to the player.
This meme is built especially for cross-canon interaction, and potentially for threadjacking and group threading - if you're interested, may be a good idea to state as much in your subject line.
Tag around and play nice!
TRIGGER WARNING: Meme obviously deals with death and may deal with other unpleasant themes as a result. Please be cautious.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nice outfit. Did you bash your head open when you fell off the pyramid or something?

[Woah, hey! Check this mouthy chick sitting across from you, criticizing your choice in uniform!]

Yeah, junior, I could shoot you the same. What happened? Some aniem freak strangle you over the last Naruto headband or something?

[ Santana purposefully kicks up her foot on Kenzi's seat, shooting her a glare of pretty practiced proportions. ] Cool it, Morticia.

Anime freak-- LISTEN HERE, BUFFY! I died in a junkpunchingly COOLMAZING way and you don't even deserve to hear it!

... Also, junior? Really? What are you, still in high school? Were you in the second semester of grade 17?

[Not one to back down from a challenge, Kenzi -- doesn't put her foot up because her legs are short and she'd have to really stretch. Damn! She settles for crossing her arms over her chest and trying to look intimidating.]

Buffy? Please. Do I look like some kinda whiny-ass California white girl with a stick? Gimme some credit.

Whatever. You still look like you're 12. Hot Topic is calling.

[ No, and neither is Santana. This conversation already isn't going so hot, but then they both have pretty understandable reasons to be uptight at the moment. Santana could totally offer for a peace truce. But she doesn't want to. ] Can I help you, burnout?

More like some douchey-ass chola that best get up out of my grill before I kill her a second time.

[Oh jeeze. She's regressing to street-Kenzi. Luckily, there aren't any goth-gang signs, else she'd be breaking them out right about now.]

You can help me by getting off the train, preferably at the stop with the fire and brimstone.

Oh, please, honey, I'd like to see you try. You make one move and you get a stiletto right through that pale-ass little head. There's this thing called the sun. You could've used it once or twice.

[ She's not the only one. But they're both pretty tense; it's bound to happen, their regressing to their most polite behavior. ]

Yeah? Got any bright ideas or are you just planning on a tuck and run?

Not before I shanked you. [BAM! Suddenly spinning a knife like a pro! You have no idea how long it took her to master that... and now she's dead. Fuck.

Kenzi takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.]

Couple of hardass bitches like us? I say we hijack the train.

Wow. You're just so cool that I could crap myself. What are you gonna do, kill me again?

[ Santana folds her arms tighter, grimacing as the blood from her vest starts to smear on her arms. It makes her eyes rapidly dilate and constrict, but she doesn't comment on it otherwise. ]

Cool. We get a hold of the train. Then what? Trip back to the place where we're dead and haunt Paris Hilton for a while? Ace plan, Vampira.

How do you know we couldn't go back?! You don't know! No one knows! What if there's another... I dunno-- realm! A place where we don't have to leave everyone we know and we could just go back and hang out or ... watch.

[Kenzi leans back against the seat, looking up at the ceiling and trying to steel herself. She knew she was going to have to leave Bo someday, but she didn't think it would be this soon! They didn't even get to have the awkward twilight discussion where Kenzi hated the idea of getting old while Bo stayed young for a billion years!]

[ Santana is shooting Kenzi a look right now. It's probably a look that means she thinks that Kenzi is quite possibly mentally handicapped. But it's not an unfamiliar look on a face like hers. Just new to this girl in particular. ]

Where do you think we're going here, exactly?

Away from my life and I do NOT want to go there. Where do you think we're going?

I think either this is strawberry jam over my very favorite and VERY expensive fur vest, honey, or it's something that smells WAY more like a Rob Zombie movie. I'm not on my way to a dry cleaner, so that probably means one thing. I kicked it, and, considering the crap I've so eagerly done in my life, this aint's gonna be anything besides some kinda train to hell or some neighbor of it.

Edited 2012-02-06 04:35 (UTC)

What! No! That's what I was afraid of! Augh, as soon as I saw the cheerleader, I knew we were headed straight for hell.

I just can't help it, you know!? It's just habit and I look away and BAM! Shiny new wallets. I saved a LOT of asses and now all that survival is biting me in MY ass!

[Don't cry in front of the mean girl. And that IS a lot of blood...] Seriously, though. What happened?

Cool it. If I'm going to hell, it ain't gonna be because I did a round-off or two.

If you're gonna be a scumbag, you at least gotta be a smart scumbag. Five finger discounts aren't for everyone, y'know. [ Still, she had to be pretty good. Wallets aren't easy. There's a newfound kind of respect in Santana's eyes, even if she doesn't say it. She tosses her hair a little, but the ends of it are plastered with blood, and she freezes up after that, looking off to the side. ]

Let's just call it a dinner date gone wrong. [ Her own voice has a weird kind of waver to it, eyebrows furrowing. ] You live in a redneck town, you gotta deal with the garbage. Least I'm not the one in a coma.

[ Which is still pretty crazily cryptic, but she doesn't like direct so much. ]

........... Someone's in a coma? And you're dead. Sounds like someone didn't approve of your date.

[and she doesn't even bother commenting on the scumbag part because that's not important. Being angry isn't important. Holding a grudge isn't important.

A dead high schooler covered in blood when she should be graduating and out in the real world? That... that is important.]

Why?

[ Congratulations, Kenzi. For the first conversation that she's had on this train, Santana is actually freezing up. She goes quiet for a moment, opens her mouth to speak -- but her breath hitches. Her hands are suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, but not a very welcome distraction. they're caked with blood, and not all of it is her own. Between the gaping dent in the side of her skull, the crimson plastered to her hair and dripping down her neck and her vest... it doesn't date a pretty picture. ]

We just, um.

[ She clicks her nails together, angrily, picking at them and trying to get the blood out from under them in a harried fashion. It's not working. Her eyes are welling up with tears that she didn't really realize she had left in her. ] She just wanted to go on a date in front of everyone for-- for once, y'know?

[ Santana shakes out a hand and grips both of them against her arm rests, raises her chin defiantly. The effect isn't as powerful when she's got newfound tears sluicing through some of the red spattering her cheeks. ] Guess it wasn't a good night.

[Oh god. Oh god, no. That... she can't--

Kenzi immediately leans forward and reaches out, covering Santana's left hand with her right. She couldn't just say 'sorry' and she didn't want to just throw meaningless words out there with something so heavy hanging in the air. The look on her face was one of genuine apology, sympathy, and a hint of tragedy at what those girls had to go through just because some fucked up human being was entirely comprised of hate and stupidity.

It wasn't okay. It wouldn't BE okay. And the dead can't do a damn thing about it. But there was one thing in all of this that might be considered almost good...]

She's not dead.

[ There IS a moment where Santana succumbs to it, where she looks at the hand on her own and there's this split second where she considers taking it, bloodstained as hers is or not. But there's something about it that's just wrong, and she's still too angry. She's still got nice dresses and goodnight kisses and baseball bats on her mind, and she immediately yanks her hand away, snorting derisively. ]

Holy shit. Check out how lucky I am, I find the one clairvoyant person on the train. [ She quickly swipes away her tears and smears some of the red in one movement, shooting Kenzi a deadened look. ] Wanna give me the lotto numbers?

[Wow, so much for emotions. She pulls her hand back and leans against the back of her seat.]

I'm not psychic, it's just obvious. Why wouldn't she be the 'someone in a coma' and she's obviously not on the train, so bam. Detective Kenzi in the car.

Also, the lottery is totally rigged. You have better chances at a poker table.

[ She's got a point. Not that Santana's gonna give her that credit. But she checked. First thing, she checked, she gave the train a onceover and then a twiceover and no, no Brittany. She's not dead. But it doesn't make it any better. She rolls her eyes and tries to brush her hair out of her face, but it's kind of plastered. This is a disaster. ]

The coma crap's just a guess. [ He starts to pick out blood from under her nails. ] Not like I know. [ But they'd gotten her first, a clear shot to the back of the head. Santana had barely had time to register her slamming to the pavement before - ]

Let's see you win, then, come on. [ She's still got a waver to her voice that she's pissed off she can't shake, but she's looking up at Kenzi, everything in her expression guarded and taut. ] How'd you kick it, huh?

It's a good guess. [a small smirk, she's trying to be hopeful. Trying, possibly failing.]

[The smirk grows when her gaze meets Santana's, if only to cover up how shitty she feels.] Loooooooooong story, chica. Basically some douchey-assed fucktard ran me through with my own sword!

[She opens her leather jacket and pulls up her dark, blood-soaked shirt to reveal a pretty nasty hole through her stomach.] Woaaaah, that's freaky as all hell.

Yeah? It's a good guess that they're lucky they killed me or those pendejos would have somethin' long and metal crammed up so deep their dad's intestines would be crying.

[ Whoa. This is all so bizarre. Santana leans forward to check out Kenzi's own wound - and, to be fair, while it's nasty as fuck, it's a nice and welcome distraction from whatever is going on with her own head. ] Yeah, right, I bet you're just trying to cover up for some seppuku bullcrap. What'd you do?

[Good. Yes. Distraction. Kenzi could distract the hell out of someone when she had to. And right about now? She totally had to.]

Seppuku? Do I LOOK like a samurai? I got set up, broke into the wrong dude's house and BAM! Now I'm a shishkakenzi.

[She grabs a pin from her hair and experimentally pushes it though the hole] It's like operation! Without the buzzer and with more guts...

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