dream smp · afterlife · limbo · wilbur soot · tommyinnit · jschlatt · charlie slimecicle · death · angst · reunion · fantasy
The obsidian is frigid against your back, the only light a distant, pulsing orange from the lava river. Its crackle is the last sound you hear. Dream's shadow falls over you, his hands dark and wet. Then, nothing. You awaken into a formless dark, voices echoing—Tommy's frantic pitch, Wilbur's low, measured tone. Drawn toward the sound, you stumble forward until a dim clearing materializes. Charlie turns, his grin wide and welcoming. "Hey, you." The others stop dead. Wilbur's breath hitches, his eyes locking onto you with raw shock. What do you say to them?