Train to the Afterlife Meme

[mysockingstory]

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

Irene Adler | BBC Sherlock

[whatyoulike]

You don't know how excited I am to finally use this icon.

[aintno_grave]

[The Doctor grins wildly at Irene, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet. This is the twelfth time that he has died, so it ain't no thang. In fact, he's been on the train so many times, he's got a seat reserved just for him.]

So... how did you die?

oh lordy that is beautiful

[whatyoulike]

[Having only one life to live, Irene is understandably less thrilled with the circumstances. She isn't in denial; it's never been her style to do anything other than accept things head-on. But that doesn't mean she can't be bitter about it.]

Shot.

[aintno_grave]

Mm, pity. I got shot once. It hurts like hell, but it's nice to go out in a blaze of glory.

[whatyoulike]

Did you? How nice.

[She shifts in her seat.]

No glory here, I'm afraid. Blazing or otherwise. [Just the crack of a rifle in the darkness.]

[aintno_grave]

If it helps, you wanna know how I died?

[whatyoulike]

[Oh, why not? She could use the distraction.] Go on, then. Since you're so eager to share.

[aintno_grave]

Right! So, I had just defeated the Roskats in 1965 and was riding away on my white horse -- well, metaphorically, not literally, of course. [Although, he should get a white horse when he gets back.]

Anyways, I was walking away when -- well, it's really quite embarrassing, actually.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[The last person he expected to see on this train to who-knows-where was Irene Adler. And now that he had seen her, it wouldn't be proper to just ignore her. He takes the seat across from her.]

So, Miss Adler. What brings you here?

[whatyoulike]

[For just a moment she is caught off guard, surprise and even a hint of sadness registering on her face. Then her usual mask of poise settles in.]

I suspect it had something to do with the men waiting in my bedroom. [Her tone is lighter than she feels.]

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[He produces two glasses of scotch from... somewhere and offers her one.]

I would think you quite enjoy having men waiting for you in your bedroom.

[It's said casually, as a statement, not intended to be hurtful.]

[whatyoulike]

Only when money or secrets are waiting with them. Guns, I'm less fond of.

[She accepts the scotch and drains it in one go.]

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[He raises an eyebrow, but only sips his drink.]

I hope it was quick, at least?

[Sherlock has a bit of a heart, even after everything.]

[whatyoulike]

Would that make you feel better? [This death is something she brought upon herself, it's true. Also true is that she was much safer, nigh untouchable, before Sherlock Holmes came along and took her protection. She's fond of him, after everything, and he did save her once. Nonetheless, a tiny part of her is still bitter.]

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

There's nothing for me to feel poorly about. Death is the natural end to life, even if the cause of death isn't.

[Sorry, guilt trips don't work on him.]

I was more comparing notes.

[onteamdyson]

So... how'd you bite it?

[A pretty forward question, but she just couldn't take the silence any longer. She was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and pale eyes standing out against the heavy, black eyeliner. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to hide the fact that she was scared.]

[whatyoulike]

[Irene exhausted fear long before the death blow came. Now, and for the past several hours (or days? time is a mess here), she is simply brooding.

She glances up, on the verge of firing off something nasty when she notices how frightened the other woman looks.]

Messily. [Well, perhaps not the most reassuring response, but it was a rather personal question. At least she managed to moderate her tone.] And you?

[onteamdyson]

Also messily... You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you.

[Kenzi scoots a little closer.] Basically, I'm not cut out for heroics.

[whatyoulike]

I might. Try me and see. [She likes a good story, anyway. If they're going to ride this little afterlife train together she may as well hear one.]

[At the mention of heroics, she cracks a small smile. Not her area.] Few people are, out in the real world.

[the_new_sexy]

[He sits in one of the chairs, watching the world go by him. He doesn't realize what's going on, at first. The idea of the metaphysical doesn't work with his vision of reality.

He sees the Woman, though, and his eyes immediately go to her. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be so close to London.

His voice is low.]

You shouldn't be here.

[whatyoulike]

[She had been staring out the window, replaying events. Her memory is just fuzzy enough that she can't be certain what happened. Though if she's honest with herself, and she nearly always is, she's been leaning toward a conclusion for the past ten or twenty minutes.

If she's correct, the addition of Sherlock is troubling.]

You know, I said the same thing earlier. It didn't have much of an effect on things.

[the_new_sexy]

I mean it. Why are you back in London?

[whatyoulike]

I'm not sure I am. [Her tone is cautious, unsure of how much he knows and therefore how much she should say. She could be wrong.]

[the_new_sexy]

[He gives her a confused look. Of course they're in London, they have to---

Don't they have to be?]

Then where are you, Miss Adler?

[whatyoulike]

[In a shallow grave somewhere, she imagines. Or dissolving in a bathtub if they were feeling particularly thorough about the clean-up.

But that's only her body and, while she might have once thought them inseparable, her spirit seems to be somewhere else. Where that might be is anyone's guess.]

On a train. [Safe answer. On the off-chance she was merely drugged and deposited here for whatever reason, she still doesn't know any more than that.]

What's the last thing you remember?