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[icchorine]

I find the concept of an afterlife patterned after a generic human city, animated by the sounds of a foreign language and the sight of a traitor on the couch, to be a thoroughly disappointing one.

[OOC: If anyone from dramadramaduck happens to see this, please defriend this journal as it is being used for another RPG. :3]

Comments

[smokenwhiskey]

You died too?

[icchorine]

Is it a common affliction in these parts?

[smokenwhiskey]

I think there's a few people around here who've come back from the dead.

[icchorine]

... Hn. How irregular.

I will investigate this further.

[infundibular]

Hello Mr. Pot. I'm Mr. Kettle. What was that about black now?

[icchorine]

Ah, Axel. Do you have anything further to say for yourself?

[infundibular]

Hm? What could I possibly have to say to you?

[icchorine]

Well-put. But your eloquence is as useless as it is gaudy.

[OOC: Cue scythe nicking Axel's cheekbone/burying itself in the couch/Mar between Axel and the TV. |D]

[portend]

Well isn't this just a lovely reunion?

[icchorine]

I believe I spotted XII flittering about as well. We shall have a regular banquet once I send VIII ahead on his merry way.

[portend]

Is it to assume, then, that you arrived in the same place as VIII? How unfortunate. Have you begun playing around with makeup and talking about your lovelives yet?

[icchorine]

That would be correct. And if by such a ridiculous turn of phrase you mean 'playing around with our lives and talking with our weapons', then the answer would be another affirmative.

[thewrightway]

...Afterlife? You mean... you're dead?

[icchorine]

That would be reasonably correct, yes.

Is it surprising to you?

[thewrightway]

Actually, I'm pretty used to talking to dead people! (They just wear Maya's clothes and hairstyle, and nine out of ten times they're Mia, but hey!)

[icchorine]

Hnn. Fancy yourself a medium, do you.