Well, now that you're dead...

[toastysocks]

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.

Comments

[constartist]

Hey.

[ And there's the pinching fingers of the asshole taking up the seat behind Caesar, grabbing his ear tight between thumb and forefinger and pulling him against the seat's back. ]

So I give you a shiny new outfit, and you get it in your head that brooding in traincars is what you've got it for, is that it?

[ He lets go, and if the voice wasn't enough of a clue that Caesar should abandon any significant attachment to a quiet and pensive ride to oblivion, turning around to face the Prince head-on certainly would. He's propped up on the cushions of his own seat, both hands gloved in sheepskin and braced against the seat, staring down at him with all of the abject irritation of a man who's just seen his beer stolen and drank down.

Though Caesar may not recall the specifics of his death, and appears untainted by them, Joseph remembers - and it's painted in red all over the front of his quilted doublet, the colour drained from his cold skin and spilled into his expensive finery. The golden fabric is drenched in browning red, a swath of colour stretching down his stomach, splattering his shoulders and pooling down the length of his slacks. The stripe of grisly colour has since dried to a crust that seems to crunch with every movement.

Though the wound that caused it is gone, Joseph could have pointed to a definite cause even had he not remembered the intimate details of those last gurgled breaths - his throat had been punched through and through by cold steel. He'd been left to bleed with what few guardsmen he'd kept with him, after sending Caesar to guide Susanne and his baby to safety.

Unfortunately for Caesar, the absence of the grisly wound that had taken Joseph's life means that his vocal chords are no longer ruined - and so, he's free to lecture him the entire ride into nothingness. ]

You know, [ He drops down, folding his prosthetic arm against the top of the barrier between them - the skin now constructed from polished brass filigree, glowing from within with crystalline veins and carved into intricate and ornate patterns, replacing then the utilitarian wooden design he'd used previously - and resting his jaw in the other, letting his gaze wander in exaggerated thought, ] I do seem to recall that I gave you a very specific set of instructions that didn't involve turning up here... refresh my memory, Caesar, if you would be so kind.

[portrays]

You shouldn't be here.

[ that's the only thing that caesar blurts out. more than half of the words that joseph says fell on deaf ears, caesar's face turning pale as he looks at his bloodied clothes. joseph may have been speaking like it's just another day between the two of them in the castle, but caesar is horrified at him, so much that he'd even forgotten how rudely he'd pinched his ear.

he's angry and alarmed enough that he practically drags himself across the chairs, armor and all, to land with a thunk in front of jojo as he grabs the front of his shirt and pushes him hard against the wall of the compartment, snarling, ]

I did my duty. Don't you ever tell me, your highness, that I failed you in one way or another - don't you even dare -

I came back for you because you have done the same for my family, a long time ago, and I remember the debts I have to repay. I came back for you because it was my life for yours, that's how this goes - did you forget why I chose to be in your Kingsguard?

Your family is safe. I did my duty and I gave up my life, I died fighting for what I believe in. [ caesar seethes, his hands shaking as he glares at joseph. had they been in court, he would've drawn himself to his full height, even if jojo had surpassed him a long time ago - it matters very little to him. shoulders squared back, his armor gleaming in the light, gold and red and arrayed in the stars of joseph's family sigil, bright as the sun even as he defies his prince. anyone who's been in jojo's court long enough is familiar with his temper, well-meaning but tempestuous, a terrifying thing in peacetime and in war. there are people who call him the prince's pet lion, and really, it's not the worst name they can think of for him, but caesar had certainly heard more colourful ones.

caesar zeppeli had died leaving no children and no next-of-kin. he has a handful of apprentices, some too young to understand what had just passed, what is about to come. diego brando may not be his brother, but the man wasn't exactly an angel either. and the boy that he is rumoured to bring with him ....

he wants to make jojo understand all of this, but for the most part, he is insulted at having been questioned regarding his duties, which he is absolutely serious about, even if the person in question who has insulted him is also the one who has given him his duties. ]

I died running back to you, because that's where I should be!

[ the most unfortunate part of this outburst was that he did not say that he loved him, if only because caesar didn't want to regret saying it while he was angry. he'd grown up that much, at least.

but if jojo wanted a refresher on what his duties were, well, he's more than happy to remind him. ]

[constartist]

Consider, then, for just a moment, what reasons I had to try to keep you out of my Kingsguard.

[ Because, for as fiercely loyal as he was, for all that they've done together, for everything that his skill and strength and pride would doubtlessly protect him from, for as much trust as Joseph could put into him to guard himself and his, Caesar's emotions would always tame him before he would tame them. Caesar's passion was a boundless one, limitless in its depth and the heat that it could burn with. His wasn't a force that could be leashed - and this had served both of them immeasurably well over the years, whether in ruling or not.

But he knows better then most how it clouds his judgement, how it hardens around his skull, how it deafens and blinds him. He grabs him by the steel gorget of his impressive suit of armour, yanking him as close as his breastplate will allow him to come - because Caesar's angry and horrified just as Joseph himself is, and it's too easy to let himself get swept away into the worst of it. ]

Keep them safe, Caesar! [ Repeated, concussive and loud, so that he can hear it this time. ] That is what I told you! You ought to have repaid your debts by keeping them safe! Not hide them and hope for the best, not lock them in the cellar, not leave them with your squires - Keep. Them. Safe. I sent you to see personally to their safety, not to mine. That, my good knight, was your duty!

[ That something so simple could have failed, that Caesar had such little trust in Joseph's decision to relinquish his protection and to give it to someone else, to decide that the lives of those he cared about outweighed the significance of his own, after a lifetime of being lectured for selfishness and pigheadedness, is nearly enough to have him laughing in Caesar's face for how ridiculous it is. He feels himself breathing - a hot, seething, ugly feeling - though he knows that his lungs no longer need the air. The world melts into something shuddering and watery before him as he keeps his gloved hands around the shining neckpiece of Caesar's plate. It's rattling already in his hand.

Before he says something he'll regret, Joseph takes a shaking and resolved breath, but it's no cooler then the rest have been. The slurry film runs down his cheeks in hot tears. ]

Who did you leave them with. [ It roils out, a low and combative growl between his grinding teeth - and not as a question, because he had better have left them with somebody. ] Who's left to stand between what is left of my family and the violent and unscrupled usurpers, if you're here?!