Forum Thread

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Welcome to Cygne Island!

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May all liars see their comeuppance.

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Kelsey Remington
27
Journalist
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Even as a little kid, Kelsey had known she was different from those around her. In Redgate, people drifted through life, eyeing their neighbours with suspicion, attending social greets where they talked about new schools, new people, new opportunities for things to go wrong.

It was a sad sort of life, hating everyone and everything unfamiliar, making up lies and gossip to bring up your social standing in a town of barely two hundred.

Those people would grow old and die, still complaining about that new, strange Remington family down the street. The quiet girl, the sickly boy, and their ever-distant father.

Because why would they care about the strange, the unfamiliar? Their whole world was happily condensed in those few square miles of dusty soil that made up the withering home of the Finns and the Sandeeps and other concepts and peoples that were familiar and real.

To be different in a small town like Redgate was hard. For years, she'd struggled to be normal, to distinguish herself from her father and brother and make friends in a classroom of thirty judgy kids. She'd grown up a liar, desperate to be someone of value in a place that valued nothing but how long you'd been squatting on a piece of land.

Being normal meant being a liar, if you were Kelsey Remington. If you were normal, you were supposed to be hating and judging and believing wrong about everyone. Trying to be a regular person in such a town meant being someone who would forsake the truth, leave behind precious values like that of justice and honour and love for the world, just for a little bit of false respect.

She was seventeen when she decided she couldn't do it anymore.

Ten years ago, Kelsey Remington left Redgate and all its lies behind. She went to school, she became a journalist, and she began a life of pursuing truth, exposing the corruption in media, flaying open lies and exposing the bloodiest, the darkest, and the most beautiful aspects of human nature.

For all the horrors, Kelsey loved people. Because when it came to it- for as awful as they could be- in the end the only person a human being ever really wanted to lie to was themself. In the darkest of people, you could find the most honest.

How ironic. Kelsey also loved the bitter taste of some sweet irony.

--

Kelsey's eyes snapped open to a beautiful new day. The sky was bright blue, clouds peeled back to the edges of the sky, white, fluffy and as wispy and delicate as spun cotton candy. The sun burned bright and hot, reflecting light off the glittering sand, the vibrant greens of the palm leaves at the edge of her vision...

She came awake. That wasn't normal. Where was she?

Sitting up, Kelsey's hand dug into the sand, squeezing the grains in her palm. She lifted it up, and watched as it fell through the cracks of her fingers.

"Well," she muttered, her voice cracking horribly. "Either this is a wacked out dream, in which case I really need a vacation..."

Or I've been kidnapped.

Because there was no way she could afford to come to a place like this on her own. She lived in a musty old studio apartment in New York for god's sake. Even the rent had her broke. Her crappy landlord was probably charging the rats two grand a month just to live in the walls.

Looking around, Kelsey saw that she wasn't alone. All across the idyllic beachside, people lay. Some curled up on their sides fetal position, others lying flat. She'd guess maybe seven or eight people, unless there were others past the treeline. They were of all ages. She was the first awake, but probably not for long. Even now, they were stirring.

Looking down, she realised she'd been lying next to somebody else. A teenage boy with fluffy brown hair and a soft, peaceful expression.

Reaching out, she gave his shoulder a little shake. "Hey, kiddo." Her voice came out raspy, and she cleared her throat. "You should probably wake up now. I don't want to be convicted of murder when someone's heart inevitably gives out, so you'll have to act as my witness."

---

Across from all of them, laying within the treeline, a small girl who looked no younger than around 10 years old, wearing a raincoat and Fisherman's hat, slowly lay up from from her current position, she had a tag stuck on her hat, with the letters "Ymaa" on it.

Most of the other text had been drained and weathered, she looked around curiously, her expression blank, it seemed she didn't know where she was at all, and it seems she didn't remember anything else either, she was only a child after all, but she was a rather... special... case.


For you see, Ymaa had STML, or short term memory loss, she would forget even her name if she wasn't constantly being called out, or told to behave. She never quite seemed to remember anything, many people thought she was simply stupid, or a bit moronic, except for her father.

Back in Sweden, she loved being able to spend time with him, and although he was a widowed man, he loved spending time with his little girl, and he felt like the only person she would ever want to be with. That was, until tragedy struck... When an accident caused the motor on their boat to explode, and caused Ymaa's Father to drown, leaving her to be cared by her grandmother, who was a lot less forgiving of her antics.

Her academic and social performances slowly became more depraved since the loss of the only person she still held dear, leaving her only to image her parents living happily in the next dimension on, and wishing to join them soon, if ever...

As to why she was on the island was a bit of a mystery, even to her...

And needless to say, throwing a child into an entirely new environment isn't exactly going to end well, especially if they're as forgetful and as helpless as poor Ymaa...

"H-hello? Somebody? A-anybody?" she says, her soft voice echoing out within the trees...

She stood up, wiped the dirt and foliage off her coat, and began to explore...

---

Metsk wasn't anyone special

He knew he was good with a knife and knew his way around animals of all kinds, he could charm anyone with the right words, but other than than, he was just. normal. If you were to take away his tattoos, Metsk was sure he would blend in with the rest of the populous, his halfbreed traits his only defining marker. After all, his golden rule was to keep his head down and do good work.

But even normal people could receive happiness

When sleep crusted eyes flickered open and lucid thoughts began to return, Metsk mourned the loss of warmth that he had grown so accustomed to pressed against his back. It wasn't uncommon for his fiance to wake up earlier than him, the odd hours at the hospital pulling their already horrid sleep schedules into tatters, so at first nothing really felt amiss. He simply yawned and rolled over, surprised that the ground beside him was warm, his lethargic body eagerly melting into the heat. His fiance must have woken up not too long ago then, though he did pout at the thought of not receiving his morning kiss yet.

Nuzzling into the grainy sand, Metsk sighed and felt his sluggish mind begin to embrace the siren call of sleep again though the rough texture of the ground nagged at him. Märjamaa is a land locked parish, why was he sleeping on sand?

Jerking upright, Metsk whipped his head around to find himself sitting in the middle of a sunscreen commercial, complete with swaying palm trees and burbling ocean. He had never been to a beach before, his family hadn't been the most well off and even now his fiance was much too busy to take a trip to the ocean. But enough television had given him the idealized image of a beach that seemed to match the picture perfect illusion, and Metsk was left reeling at the sun that seemed be beam right into his brain.

"Aw man," Metsk sighed, already patting himself down to find a pack of cigarettes. "Not again."

---

Noa Khione

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Rising and falling in the ever-unreachable distance, eternally, without pause... In paradise, even the purest of heart begin their elegant descent from grace given enough time- who will save the proclaimed saviors once they become the ones who need to be saved?

Or perhaps it's been them who created the ideal of saviors all along, seeking entertainment in their paradigm of Arcadia. Forming transparent ice on the pavement toward the gateway toward eternal dreams in a dream's end, dragging little ice fragments who are lulled into a sense of security toward itself so that it may grow without end.

He didn't want the illusion of love- even though someone like him could never create genuine love, either. But it was all everyone else had, and he should be thankful for it, at the very least, shouldn't he?

...

If all one had known was paradise, to be enraptured from the very beginning- no matter how much they could see through the aethyrial veil, they could never escape. But of course, with a third party involved, with just a little nudge in a certain direction, things might just change- if anything, he would be the one to know.

Noa wasn't surprised to find himself on a sandy shore when he woke up- perhaps it would take some time for him to accept it, but for now, although part of him wished for the safety of his home, he would still be thankful for this turn of events. He'd been stuck for too long already, always wishing, dreaming, but never being pushed toward any edge at all- until now...

Someone beside him seemed to had spoken to him. He hadn't been paying attention, but nodded anyway- it was important to not come off as rude, after all.

---

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Kelsey Remington
27
Journalist
---

Well, that was pointless. Everyone was waking up anyway. Offering the boy a placating smile, she turned to study the group.

These people were interesting characters. From a little girl, blinking bewilderedly in an oversized fisherman's hat, to a tattooed woman with bright purple hair, or even that mafioso looking guy over there with the bleached hair... quite the cast for this little play.

"Well," she said aloud. "What a fascinating turn of events. It's a nice spot for a party... I wonder which one us is the host?"

Standing up, she brushed the sand off her clothes, taking a moment to adjust her top. Unfortunately, mesh and wet sand didn't go very well together. Hopefully there was a change of clothes somewhere around here.

"Anyone want to claim ownership of this place? I can't say I'm mad about the free vacation... but your pickup policy could use some work. I'm not really a fan of kidnappings."

---

Callused hands wrapped around the familiar crumpled box of cigarettes and habit had him immediately tapping one out. Next order of business was searching for a lighter. Thankfully most of his leather jackets had one tucked away somewhere and this time he found one with a skull chewing on a bone scratched on the black painted surface. Edgy.

Just as he was about to light the paper up, already bending his head down to grip the cigarette with his teeth, Metsk finally looked up and froze when he noticed a kid no older than 12 maybe hiding under a hat. Aw man, now he really couldn't even indulge in his vices without looking like some kind of washed up loser of an adult.

Well, to be fair he kind of was but that was beside the point. There were appearances to keep up, especially around kids

Glumly letting the cigarette fallback down into the box, Metsk reached back to slide out the pins in his hair. Keeping his hands busy by pinning the errant mess back up into something more presentable and less like he had just rolled out of bed. Grains of sand fell out in waves as he shook his hair out, Metsk slid the pins back in place with a barely muffled yawn, nearly dropping them when one of the others began to talk. He really had to stop himself from laughing the moment the goth started talking, her sass quite infectious and he couldn't help but add on.

"Well, whoever did it is an new one at best," He drawled, putting on a smile he knew had charmed others before and would continue to do so. Pretty privilege and all. "I mean, really. Letting your kidnap victims meet and talk with each other? Beginner's mistake."

---

Ymaa hears the others speak, her mind not yet comprehending the severity of the situation at hand. She pulled up her hat, looking at the other few adults who had already awoken, tilting her head like a confused puppy, the facts slowly entering her mind, filling it with confusion

"W-what do you mean by kidnapped?" She said to the tall man with the lighter... "I-is this not home?"

Her brain now fully awake, she now realized the danger she was in, the youngest in a group of much stronger and older people... She was the weakest, and she was afraid of being picked off first...

"C-can someone tell me where we are... P-p-please..?"

Her voice was panicked and filled with stutters, her eyes darting around to all the other adults in the group, hoping one of them would help her... Her hands quivering in fear.

---

💛Kalani Akana🐦‍🔥

Kalani Akana never really saw any real reason to be concerned. Nothing was ever much of a big deal to her. How could it be? Life wasn't a big deal. Life wasn't to be taken seriously. Life was to enjoy, to have fun, pleasure, joy, merriment! You could never bother restraining yourself with the binds of worry!

...and, after all, what would you ever have to worry about? What would there, could there, possibly be that you couldn't deal with? Everything was fun and games, right? Just about having a good time.

She stirred into motion, and took in their surroundings with a broad streeeetch of her arms and legs.

"Kidnapped, huh?" she asked, flicking her long hair with a long-nailed index finger and blinking her wide eyes. "Well, I must say. I don't remember living here." She clasped her hands together before quickly pulling herself to her feet, earrings clinking as she did so.

Kalani hurriedly ran her fingers through their hair, grabbing a dusty spare hair elastic from her pocket. She immediately yanked it through, putting it up in its characteristic ponytail.

"Eeeh. But if we were kidnapped, that's junk. We might as well get to know each other! After all, our enemy of our enemy is our friend!"

---

Kelsey Remington
27
Journalist
---

Just a little girl, lost here all alone... for as scary as this had to be to the adults, she must be terrified. All this talk of kidnapping probably wasn't helping.

"Whether or not some inept criminal is involved is still up to debate." Kelsey waved a hand dismissively, then turned to the new girl, someone who looked to be about her age, if not a little younger. "In any case, introductions can't hurt. We'll need to work together and pool our information if we're to figure out what's going on."

She took a step forward.

"Let's form a circle. We can introduce ourselves... and say the last thing we remember. A fun fact too, if you feel in the mood for a throwback to grade school."

Clapping her hands together, she said. "I'll go first. My name is Kelsey Remington. I'm twenty seven years old, and work as a freelance journalist in New York City. You won't have heard of me, because I'm broke, so you can rest assured that I couldn't have afforded this tropical getaway. I appear to be wearing a Slipknot tee, but if you look closer, you'll see that this was once a Costco men's shirt with a neon blue wolf on it, and the patch is doing a poor job of hiding it. The last thing I remember is sorting through a case I was working on. I don't believe it is connected to what's happening now, but I was investigating a person named Evelien Roger, if the name's familiar."

With a satisfied nod, she stepped back, and gestured for the person to her right to speak.

---

He was used to the hustling and bustling of downtown Tokyo. The squeals of rubber on road, the sharp blaring horns of a car, the sounds of the ambulance, he loved it all. After a long day's work, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bed, close his eyes, and let the sounds of the traffic send him to sleep. That was the highlight of his usually boring day. His schedule was pretty average, wake up, down a few cups of coffee, then get to his 'office job'. His real 'job' was unknown to anyone, he preferred to stick with the lie that it was a dreary, run-of-the-mill 9-5, and leave it that. Any further questions would be instantly shot down with a dreary monologue about the amount of paperwork he had daily, another lie he fabricated to put the questioning sort to sleep. And for those annoying little rats who didn't take the bait, he had some other methods of convincing.

Yesterday was an ordinary day. He got up, made some of his beloved coffee, yelled a bit at his mother over the phone, then went to work. And let's not forget the odd reminiscing of his ex-girlfriend. They had split around about two years ago, but he was anything but over her. He was never the same after they broke up. He was quieter, more distant. Work was his only distraction to the whole affair.

He woke up with a loud groan, expecting to feel the hard mattress of his bed underneath him, but frowned as his fingers made contact with sand. Sand? Was this some weird prank by 'enemy companies'. He rubbed his face with his hands groggily. What on earth was this? He froze. Where was his beloved Tokyo traffic? He heard nothing but the gentle lapping of the waves, the caws of...seagulls? His eyes opened wide.

What on earth...

The sun was beating down on him. He didn't recognise his surroundings? Where was he? Who was he?

He racked his brains, trying to remember something, anything. Tokyo. Coffee. Mom. Ex.

Ex...

He sighed. It all flooded back to him. He was...

KENMICHI ALVAREZ

Kenmichi groaned. "....man c'mon. I did not need this on a Thursday morning."

He sighed again heavily, getting to his feet and groaning with every stretch of his limbs.

"Did I turn into a geriatric overnight?" Kenmichi spat. "...I feel all creaky and stiff."

"If whoever put me here replaced my limbs with ones of an eighty year old, I will have a problem with them."

Seeing as no one was going to speak up after the girl, Metsk stepped forward instead. To be honest, most of what Kelsey had said had flown right over his head as a collection of sounds that he didn't quite understand. What even was a Costco? But then again, it was probably an American thing that he wasn't familiar with. Regardless, he could manage to do a quick introduction.

"Tere, I'm Metsk Hwei. English isn't my strong suit but I'll try." He started himself, voice pitched bright and welcoming and a charming smile on his lips. "I work with meat so I'm pretty good around knives and animals, especially with other mongrels. Last thing I remember... going to bed with armastan? It was quite a normal day so I don't think I can be of any help on that front." He flashed an apologetic smile, the shine of silver peeking out from between crooked gaps in imperfect teeth.

In this situation where he neither gained nor lost anything from either lying or being truthful, Metsk reckoned that telling a lie or two wouldn't be helpful in the long run. Trust, that was where it was at. And the easiest way to gain that, was by being open. So for now, Metsk would not lie.

---

Ymaa looked around, and stepped up as well. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, she looked very cold, and afraid, but was trying to hide her fears and the immense shaking she had.

"My name is... M-my name is... uhhh-..."

She stopped a bit, scratching her head in confusion, she seemed to have forgotten her name, she takes off her hat, crumpling it in her hands to try to calm her nerves, and notices the letters on it, most of them had come off, and only the letters Y, M, and two A's were still stitched on...

"Y... M... A... A..." She read aloud. "M-my name is... Ymaa...?"
Ymaa didn't seem to remember much, she simply stared out into space, her brain going blank as she tried to remember any details about herself. Her memory simply burned of any trace of... Well... Anything...

---

Yang Mi’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft, hazy light filtering through the trees near the shore. She blinks, feeling the warmth of sand beneath her and the cool sea breeze grazing her skin. As her surroundings come into focus, confusion strikes—a remote beach, with the faint sound of waves breaking in the distance, yet no clue how she ended up here. Her mind races, trying to stitch together fragments of memories that feel just out of reach. She scrambles upright, a familiar surge of anxiety bubbling inside her as her instincts kick in.

Her first reaction is to feel a flash of annoyance, her short temper flaring up at the lack of answers. “Really? Just what I needed,” she mutters, sarcasm edging her voice, masking her nerves. She looks around, assessing her surroundings with a wary eye. The quietness unsettles her, stirring up the anxiety she’s fought hard to control. Normally, Yang Mi would revel in the peace and seclusion, but the uncertainty of her situation pulls her back into a state of guardedness. She wraps her arms around herself, her fingers brushing over the tattoo on her arm—a small comfort in the midst of this unexpected solitude.

But then, taking a deep breath, she tries to calm herself, letting her naturally bubbly side take over. Maybe, she tells herself, this is just some bizarre adventure, something she can handle. As the initial panic fades, she takes a proper look around, noticing the people around her.

She watched as Metsk pulled a cigarette out, only to put it back in again. Chuckling, she reached into her own pocket, just to make sure those weren’t hers that the man was holding. On the bright side, at least whoever put her here didn’t take her cigarettes.

Metsk short who was obviously the youngest of the gathered a welcoming smile, heart aching in sympathy for her plight. It didn't seem as if she was aware of anything, even her name was something that was told to her rather than tucked against the heart. As a deceleration of who you were, a title that encompassed everything that you could become, and Metsk always chose his with careful deliberation so seeing someone without something he had taken as normal did come as a blow.

"Its really nice to meet you, Ymaa." He greeted, pulling on his years and years of visiting the pediatrics ward to keep face. She seemed so sweet, someone who shouldn't be among the gathered as she stood out so much.

Speaking of standing out, purple hair wasn't exactly the most common occurrence. Catching Yang Mi's eyes, Metsk tilted his head in an invitation for her to introduce herself

---

Yang Mi locks eyes with Metsk (most unfortunately) and sighs, walking over to the pair. Reaching out her tattooed arm for a handshake, she dips her head in greeting “Yang Mi. Or perhaps you know me better as Mimi. That idol with the really glittery hair on stage.” She lets out a bitter chuckle, reaching for her cigarettes again, before sighing as she remembered she probably shouldn’t be smoking around Ymaa

“And who might you two be?” She flashes them a charming smile, her idol persona resurfacing. At least she had a few moments of rest before being disturbed….not that she shouldn’t have anticipated this. After all, she was an idol with dyed purple hair.

---

Kelsey Remington
27
Journalist
---

Damn, these introductions were getting short. Shrink-flation was real, y'all, and it was coming for you. Shaking her head with a sigh, Kelsey pulled back, taking the opportunity to study those around her.

Somehow, her eyes drifted back towards the girl with the long, chestnut hair. It was as if the girl was a star, gravity pulling her right in to her centre. Unnaturally yellow eyes, chestnut skin, and a warm smile that seemed almost... familiar. There was something about the long, lithe shape of her that made her seem as if she was about to break into dance, spinning underneath the palm trees, twirling patterns into the sand, throwing her arms back with a laugh... a bird about to take flight.

She seemed so... alive.

Kelsey subconsciously ran a hand through her own hair, and found that it had sand in it, which would be hell to get out. She certainly didn't look much more than half dead right now. She needed coffee, but would there really be any on a deserted island? Maybe she was just destined to die alone, asleep, and ugly since the beginning of time.

"Okay, so let's finish up with these introductions quick." Kelsey shook her head. "We're going to need shelter, and if this island doesn't provide any of the artificial sort, we'll have to get creative. I hope nobody skipped out on their workshop classes, and can cut branches with nothing but my sharp wit."

---

Actually, Metsk didn't know any idols. That was more his fiance's wheelhouse but Yang Mi was a simple enough name. Chinese too, a language that Metsk hadn't had the luxury of hearing for a long long time. It was nostalgic, in a way but that didn't matter as there were more pressing things to think about than childhood memories.

Rolling his eyes at everyone's dramatics, Metsk shoved a hand down a random pocket, hands immediately closing around what he was looking for. Perks of dressing like a religious heart attack even if over half of the country didn't believe in such things, small towns liked to disagree with popular notions. Feeling around the other pockets, he was only mildly disappointed to report that he only had one on hand, but whatever. It was serviceable and thats all that really counted in a survival situation.

"Well," He grinned, brandishing his utility knife almost proudly as he slipped the metal from its handmade leather cover. "Not as sharp as your wit, but still plenty usable, I hope?"

---

“My earrings are obsidian, if that’s of any interest. Brittle- but sharp. Especially if it’s chipped and jagged.” Yang Mi offers. “Oh. And my nails” Yang Mi carefully removed her nail extensions, the long, sharp tips more like claws than anything. They were sturdy- perhaps not best fit for chopping wood, but certainly good for self defense- as Yang Mi learned the hard way. With obsessed fans appearing on her doorstep, or ‘dealing’ with people they thought had offended her….well, you needed to defend yourself.

Kelsey’s question aside, Yang Mi had concluded that Metsk needed either a better attention span, or a new pair of ears and eyes. Her question had gone ignored, but oh well. She’d just nickname him. Overworked Dude would be fitting- he looked in dire need of caffeine, a proper sleep schedule, and more. Perhaps not the catchiest of nicknames, but it described him very well, Yang Mi thought.