You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?
Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE. THESA STATION
All refugees on the station are called to the hangar where a large-scale teleporter has been set up; everyone will be sent to the planet together. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait. Before they depart, all new refugees will be given a starter kit!
 You may have heard about earlier technical difficulties, but don't worry. I promise everything is in perfect working order this time. I'd say I tested it myself, but since that's not exactly possible, you'll just have to trust me! (Please.)
The older refugees will also be there to guide you to ensure no one is left confused... or behind. Make sure you wait for them — I've been detecting something odd so I'll be having them meet you at the landing site. Good luck, refugees! Not that you'll be needing it or anything...
The arrays begin to hum and glow, quickly building into a brilliant wash of light. It creates a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa. With the night sky as a canvas, the beam can be seen all the way from Olympia and Wyver — a view that has the natives whispering of blessings.
As a sudden but beautiful aurora splays across the sky, the refugees down on the planet receive a message asking them to travel to the landing site — and warning them to prepare for what may come of the strange readings Zasere's gotten from the teleport itself.
Traveling through the light leaves the impression of blinding starlight, a strange sense of weightlessness, and a disorienting moment of total sensory deprivation. The radiance of your teleport hangs bright in the sky above you, a shimmering aurora that reflects off the calm waters below, visible for miles all around.
You've landed on a peninsula to the east of the South Outpost. There's little here — scattered trees on spring-barren plains, with a few overgrown, dilapidated structures poking out of the brush. All is quiet save for the keening of animals and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. This lonely desolation is hardly the bustling cities and vibrant cultures you were promised back on the station...
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. But waiting for you is a group of your predecessors, and with them, a veritable tent city, with portable stoves, coolers of food and drink, comfortable bedrolls, and cheerful rings of bonfires — all that you need to make merry of the night, courtesy of Overseer Voss, who has, thanks to his interest in blessed meteorological phenomena and refugees, decided to make a holy expedition of the affair.
Settle in, meet new comrades, and enjoy yourself, for you've safely completed your journey. But don't wander too far from the fires — the dark is closing in, and there's a strange, electric feeling in the air, the scent of ozone drifting on the breeze. And what were those odd readings Zasere mentioned?
A SHEPHERD OVER THE FLOCK. The spring sun dawns on a grey morning, already burning away the fog rolling in off the sea. It quickly becomes apparent that Voss and his entourage of acolytes have been up for hours, hard at work. They've set up a brightly-draped stage and a travel pulpit, magically enchanted to amplify his voice, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, Voss is all set to do what he does best: proselytize.
 As our Goddess has sent Her blessing once before to herald the coming of those touched by Her light, so She has done once again! Here you see them, those surrounded by the light of our Goddess, each of them bearing the mark upon their skin of Her holiest of hands! Do you not see? Do none among you bear witness to the righteousness of Her message? Perhaps this is why our people have shamed themselves in front of our Goddess—
[ He continues for another 15 minutes... ]
Nevertheless. See you them before us now! See them as they are, coming to our gates with Her reminder, that these people must be treated with the utmost respect and care. Thesa's divinity is not to be treated with such flagrant disregard! Those who She chooses are not ours to use as mindless fodder, to hurt, to torture — shame upon those who allowed such deeds to shame us under Her watchful gaze!
To those of you who have just arrived here on our doorstep, be not afraid! The Temples of Thesa welcome you to our home with hearts and minds open! Should you ever find yourself in need of solace, seek out the Temples, as there are no greater allies to you than those of us within the Temple walls. You are welcome all to Olympia!
As he steps away from the enchanted podium, he can be heard saying aside to an acolyte, "How was that? Heavy on the shame, but I think it went well!" While he will not leave the area immediately, his acolytes will politely turn away attempts to speak with him and remind anyone interested that they can leave a message at the Temples.
Despite going off without hitch, the new refugees' arrival isn't entirely without incident. It seems that the "blessed" beam of light that brought the refugees down to El Nysa brought something else along with it — a sliver of the Storm. At least the beam was short enough that only a small fraction managed to squeeze through.
But it's enough to wreak a little havoc around the landing site and along the road back toward Olympia and Wyver — and even, for a few days, in the cities themselves.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. The Storm is an undeniably destructive force, and that's proven with this small sliver's effect as it ripples across the continent. While there's no visible sign of its presence, strange phenomena soon begin to appear, corresponding with Zasere's odd readings.
They're innocuous little things at first. A sudden silence, animals going quiet, insects stilling. All technology, no matter how advanced, ceases working. You discover when you check with a friend, the clock on your phone is twelve minutes slow even though you'd swear only a minute had passed — time missing. Walking through the woods takes longer than it should when brushing past one bush leads to brushing past that same bush again — and again, and again, the area looping on itself. It keeps you trapped, going in circles for minutes, even hours, before finally releasing you in a random direction.
Or perhaps you'll feel a sense of deja vu, like you've walked down this road, taken this turn, seen that bird fly from this branch before. This is the second time that cat has crossed your path. The person you're meeting, you already know their name; you're certain you've already met.
WE GOT COWS. The Storm sliver also ushers in sudden, localized weather anomalies — heavy storms, blizzards, strong winds, and more. Affected areas range from just a few feet wide to nearly half a mile. One minute, the sky may be sunny and clear, but the next dark storm clouds roll in, unleashing torrential rain. Small tornadoes surge along the road, kicking up winds strong enough to knock people over and carry objects away. Hail hurtles down from the sky, but only in a ten foot radius. Temperatures fluctuate wildly between one extreme and the next, from heat waves to cold snaps. Soupy fog blankets the area, thick enough that you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Good luck finding your way!
FORGETTING IS SO LONG. The visions come on suddenly and with very little warning. One second, you're carrying on as normal — but the next, you blink and find yourself (and anyone near you) somewhere else completely. You may recognize this place as a moment from the past, one that you lived through. It's a memory, your memory, and it now replays around you in exceptional detail, unnervingly lifelike. Or you may not recognize it at all. It might belong to the person next to you, or to someone else entirely — a memory that the Storm has swallowed up.
Either way, the scene plays out just as it once did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it — or escape it. The memory surrounds you to no end: every door you open leads nowhere, every hallway you turn down continues on forever, every horizon you flee toward hangs just out of reach. And linger too long or turn the wrong corner, and you may find yourself abruptly stuck in a completely different memory. It's almost tempting, then, to give up, to let the past sweep you away...
But this isn't the full might of the Storm. Look closely, and you can see that in the walls of this trap, there are minute, hairline cracks, a facade of fractured glass. Imperfections in the memory where the real world is breaking through. It seems the only way to escape these memories is to find those cracks and break through them — by force, by will, or by some other method entirely.
The time is coming to make a choice — perhaps not a permanent choice, but unless you want to spend the rest of your nights out under the stars, you'll need to pick which city you will initially spend your time in. On the horizon, you will see that people have arrived to help you make that decision...
A FORK IN THE ROAD. Refugees and the hyper-religious wishing to hear Voss speak are not the only ones out and about under the light of the aurora. Citizens of both Olympia and Wyver have flocked to a point on the road midway between the cities and where the refugees have appeared, and they all have the same goal in mind: convincing the newcomers who have just descended in the blessed light of Thesa to come to their city and not the other.
They've come with bribes — that is, examples of what their cities have to offer. If you spent much time at the exhibition up on Thesa Station, you might recognize some of what's being shown off, though the offerings here are markedly more tangible, and shown off by hawkers wearing substantially fewer clothes.
A herd of pegasi accompanies the Olympians, while a line of flying serpents is stabled at a tent bearing Wyver colors. Refugees are given the chance to experience solo flights and are told that if they prove their loyalty, they may have the privilege of owning such fine beasts one day themselves. The Olympians have also brought couture clothing, jewelry, and makeup to offer a taste of Olympian splendor, while the Wyver delegation has brought along fine weapons, sense-enhancing jungle plants, and small vials of diluted dragon’s blood (drinking confers a temporary boost in strength) to demonstrate their might. The Olympians speak proudly of the glory of the Temples of Thesa; the Wyverns speak of the Volkkran Pact and inform newcomers that they can make a pilgrimage to the summit of Namarak Mountain at the next full moon.
This is as good a time as any to compare your plans with others around you and exchange contact information before going your separate ways with people who are going to the city you are not. When you’re ready to go, don’t worry about safe passage — the natives of each city will gladly escort you there in luxury.
OF WHITE AND GOLD. The people of Olympia are ecstatic that you’ve come to join them... So much so that they’ve prepared a grand tour of the city for the new arrivals. You will be introduced to the major businesses in the city, including businesses that they are proud to point out were founded by refugees.
Refugees who have been here for some time already are encouraged to pair up with newcomers to introduce them to the parts of the city they like best. To facilitate this, they’ve made arrangements with many of the business owners: new refugees who visit their shops (and older refugees who escort them) are given discounts!
Just a few examples of many: the Wyvernest offers free desserts to first time visitors with the purchase of a drink, refugees who visit the Silk Wyrms can have one custom (though not exceedingly expensive) outfit made for them for free, and visitors to Shades Darker are offered a half-hour session with one of the prostitutes at half price… or access to a private room, if they seem to have taken a shine to one of their companions on the tour.
Lastly, tour guides will point out that over the course of the next week, the train to Flona Cove will allow new refugees to board for free so that they can experience the seaside for themselves. With the weather finally starting to warm, this is as good a time as any for a visit to the beach, isn’t it?
OF RED AND BLACK. Life in Wyver is typically a sink-or-swim sort of experience — but in light of the valor recently displayed by their predecessors, the natives are now more willing to assist in getting newcomers settled. The entire journey here they have been talking up the virtues of their city… and now is the time to show everything that's on offer.
The well-known businesses in the city are prepared for the influx of newcomers. Some are giving out discounted samples of their products while others are offering a more hands-on experience: in exchange for working a few hours, they will give training in whatever task is being performed.
At the Forged, newcomers can learn the basics of crafting simple weapons (and take one of their successes home), while visitors to spas near the lagoons are trained in the art of massage. Those who wander to Falmi’s Ring can learn the art of pugilism or how to keep (and fix) books if they're more inclined to the gambling that goes on. Newcomers interested in Wyver's dragons can get hands-on experience at the Fields of the Exalted's nursery. While they walk from place to place, a guide may point out a job posting from Highwind Hires, noting that refugees can make a name for themselves outside official channels.
The last stop on the tour is the Undergrowth. The guides speak of the jungle in reverent tones and caution new refugees not to wander too far in. They warn never to explore alone, but also urge refugees to take time to familiarize themselves with it; after all, the jungle is an important part of life in Wyver, and those who are going to be living here should understand it as well as they do.
You've chosen your path, refugee, but that doesn't necessarily make it a permanent one. Watch out for the strange effects of the Storm, which linger still in the two cities and everywhere in between for the next few days before dissipating just as mysteriously as they came, but otherwise enjoy the welcome and make yourself at home — after all, this is home now.
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Prior Walter | Angels in America
[cw: video not SFW due to language.]
a) it's the end of the world as we know it
[You're sitting on the far corner of a messily disrupted bed, on which Prior Walter should probably be sleeping.
Instead, he's perched on the headboard, pressing himself as far back against the wall as is possible without physically breaking through it. You might want to cover your ears, too, things are going to be a little shrieky for a while.
For good reason. In the opposite corner of the room hovers an angel. Her ragged wingspan fills the space from wall to wall and she moves accompanied by the sound of trumpets. Her voice may be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard: an orchestra of finely tuned violins tucked into one throat. Her appearance, though? She's more tattered Manhattan pigeon than pristine white perfection.
As she gradually pulls Prior's apartment to pieces with her instructions to find some 'holy implements' you'll discover that you can interact, here. Prior is in the memory and recounting it at the same time - he can talk to you if you interrupt.
Meanwhile the Angel is of one moment and one purpose... but distract her prophet too long and she too will turn her gaze on you.
If you're male, you'll find yourself suddenly, impossibly hard.]
b) and i feel fine
[Or maybe you find yourself partaking in more earthly delights.
The music here is loud, and the tiny dancefloor packed and sweaty. The crowd's nearly all male, and you'll stand out if you don't happen to be wearing something neon bright. On a tiny stage in front of a curtain of silver streamers, a drag queen is miming the words to Holiday, and it takes you a while to pick Prior out among the melee.
He's wearing a bright blue wig, a short skirt, and a face done up in shades of electric-blue Egypt. Even as he bounds over you can see he's giddy and high, and young. He's twenty-five, healthy and looking at you as though you were always meant to be here. You're greeted with a kiss - maybe on your cheek, maybe it's full on the lips, maybe it's brief, or long - and his hands slipping into yours.]
There you are, I was looking all over. Miss Thing's going to be doing her thing for hours yet and I haven't the heart to tell her Like A Virgin just isn't her song. Run away with me? I want to show you my favorite place in the world.
WE GOT COWS
a) hello, sunshine.
[Following a perfectly reasonable period of freaking the fuck out over the release of a slice of world-ending storm into the city, the curious weather effects have now become more of an irritating impediment to getting around than anything else.
That's why Prior can be found, sitting on a park bench in bright, glorious sunshine, waiting for the thick snow drifts all around him to start to melt. They're climbable, but as he's currently working with a cane and one functional leg, it doesn't seem wise.
He might call out as you pass by.]
I don't suppose you know anybody with a plough?
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[You know how this one works.]
hello, sunshine
He stops to squint at Prior, at the snow around him and his cane. ]
Well, unfortunately I left my spare plough in my other jacket. You need a hand?
[ He approaches one of the snow mounds and gives it a solid kick to see how densely packed it is. ]
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[It's the American flag Prior reads first of course. Living in a place so strange, you become well trained in spotting the faintest hints of home.]
And it looked like such a practical jacket.
[He leans back a little as the kick sends a scatter of snow across his sunny spot. It's fallen too recently to be packed solid, but the blizzard was intense enough that several days snowfall seem to be stacked up on the ground. It's trickling slowly into puddles the closer it lies to the sunny central circle.]
I do think a spare hand might suffice, in a pinch.
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[ He clambers up over the snow drift, wincing at the cold against his hands, and begins to kick the snow outward to make a little path through it. ]
Just so you know, any jokes about my ploughing technique may result in this snow travelling toward you instead of away.
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[Setting a deliberately limp wrist under his chin, Prior offers a sweet smile across the wintry terrain.]
If anything I'd have questions. Things like regularity, style, satisfaction - technical issues, you know how it is. [But, before he actually gets himself snowballed...] And I take it you're new, if you still thing any information they give you on this place is the whole truth.
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He wants to say something snarky, but unfortunately everything else is the truth. He is new, if not necessarily new to the concepts. ]
Guessing I'm new because I assumed I wouldn't need a hat is quite the assumption.
[ It feels defensive. He's being defensive. What is he even defending? His masculinity? Against what? Against raging frustration from being on an outpost for years where half the people he flirts with turn out to want to shock him repeatedly and break into his city, mostly. Great. After a few moments making sure the path he has kicked through is about wide enough and as smooth as he can get it he tries to rub his hands dry against his uniform, turns to look Prior over again more thoughtfully. ]
Trust me, I may be new to this planet but I'm not new to being lied to and pulled into someone else's politics. You need a hand through?
[ Since the melting snow is making everything slick. John glances around at the banks a last time before approaching Prior to offer him just that -- a hand up. ]
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[The defensiveness doesn't seem to fluster Prior. At least it doesn't make him think twice about teasing his would-be savior. After all, he's in the vulnerable position, here, and should be allowed to regain a little status somehow.
At the same time, he's hardly unable to lower himself a peg or two to help someone new feel more comfortable, so he goes on:]
It wasn't a criticism, incidentally. When I was new I sent out a mass broadcast to the whole city because I was lonely, and scared. I hadn't even thought as far as politics. And as for what I was wearing? Too horrifying to go into, really.
[That said, he inspects the furrow made in the snow. It's a good effort. He could probably make it without a hand, even.]
Are you sure you don't want to come on in my side for a while? The weather's fine.
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Of which there are many.
He lets his hand drop to squint around the area again, considering this. ]
I mean, sure. We might get snowed in again, though.
[ Which, based on the previous snowfall, would be annoying but not impossible to fix. John moves to drop onto the bench beside Prior, settles himself into a lazy sprawl before frowning and giving him a sideways glance. ]
If this was a trap I will be very upset.
[ Though a trap to what nefarious end he can't really guess. ]
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end of the world
So of course he interrupts, eventually, when she's flounced off to the other side of the room. He clears his throat from his spot on the bed, leaning forward with a strained smile.]
I half expect her to run into a glass window, twittering on like that. You and I both know where she can stick her holy implements.
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All this, it should be noted, never stopped him from shaking his head no when ordered to submit. Plus ca change.
Dorian's sentiment would be something Prior could go along with were it not for the fact that he knows what's coming. And there's a certain degree of urgency to his response.]
Don't stick around too long or you'll find out where she does.
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[Even if her company would have already had him heading for the hills about three minutes ago, if it weren't a matter of waiting for Prior to come out of it. He's exercising a lot of restraint in effort take this lightly—after all, it's not real, why should he worry?]
There are so many other things you could have been reminded of. A birthday party. A night out. A night in with someone prettier, like me. I'm not going to say your mind could do better, but—[with an disconcerted look towards the angel,] —well, it could.
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[He drops to the floor, suitcase in hand, and a thousand movie cliches Dorian won't recognise playing out as he flicks open the locks and: cue sound and trumpets. It would be comical if it wasn't simultaneously so terrifying. Ridiculous, that's what it is, right down to the pair of hippy spectacles he pulls out next. His body goes through the motions of its own volition, mind both in the moment and not. One moment he's living this, the next looking back - looking at Dorian.]
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I mean it, you've got to get out of here before things start getting messy. And I mean like... bodily fluids messy. I don't want you to see that.
[Like an echo, he pulls back and watches the visions the glasses are set up to play before throwing them off in horror. I don't wanna see that.]
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Nothing's going to be messier than the disaster you just wore, Maker, we'll discuss that later— I'm not leaving you to cycle through this, Prior, so you're going to have to snap yourself out of this. Should I keep talking? Perhaps I can manage to talk over her, what a feat that would be.
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[PJs from Macy's teen section aren't exactly haute couture either, and he's suddenly horribly aware just how much they expose. A hand over the purplish stain on his neck, he looks round to where Dorian's standing just as the Angel issues her instruction to READ.
And Prior doesn't.
A Prior does, somewhere, somewhen, but the Prior Dorian's talking to manages to detach from that. He shakes his head - pushes back, onto his knees, onto his feet, a hand reaching out for help getting up. At least his leg's not as screwed up here, only as bad as he remembers it being, back when.]
I don't know how to get out of this one, I don't understand. I don't even think it's me doing it this time.
[Somewhere, a Prior is still on the floor, reading, and the Angel watches him. Though, for all that this is memory, can't be changed, it appears for a moment as though she's staring straight at them.]
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and i feel fine ( if it's okay! )
Or some strange, retro version of it. Antique in ways that she's really considered before, but it's part of the charm, surely ( or maybe, she's just from too far into the future; whenever that may be ). Either way, she's fond of it immediately, even if it's this isn't the time, or the place.
Besides, it's not as though she gets the opportunity to participate. Instead, there's a kiss on her cheek, a hand in her's. A brilliant blue, one that has her taken aback and blinking just from the sheer presence of him ( imagine that ). But she recovers quickly — his chatter slowly easing the way her shoulders originally tensed. Cautiously eager to see where this leads, because she seems to be playing a part in ... something.
( Might as well go with it, while she's here. )
She takes her freehand to point to her chest, her mouth opening for a silent me? that she hopes will get through. It only takes a second before she nods, raising an eyebrow as if to ask him to lead the way and all. ]
(of course! sorry for the delay responding)
Prior still looks dizzy with the music in his system, but something pulls into focus in his eyes and he looks her over again with the sharper attention of unfamiliarity. Beside them, suddenly there, as if the empty space before were a trick of the light, two people link arms and leave the bar, a flurry of blue and gold.
The scene's still playing out, but he's not lost in it anymore, just willing to let the tape run. It's not unusual for mime to be a favored method of communication when the music's this loud, so he nods and points in return. Her.]
There's nobody else I'd rather take. [His smile's bright, if a little wistful.] You'll have to tell me who you are when we can hear ourselves think.
[For now there's the matter of threading through the crowd toward the exit. They could walk straight through the middle without disturbing any of it, most likely, but it wouldn't feel right.]
no worries at all!!
Not that she's waiting for reasons to stall — the thought is a fleeting one, while she focuses on the conversation ( "conversation" ). Red returns his smile with one of her own — levels more subdued than his, the corners of her lips just barely flicking upwards as she nods. No hesitation on her face, as she seems to take the opportunity and jump straight into the deep end.
Her eyes begin to search for an exit ( just walking through the crowd wouldn't feel right; it's too easy, for a club like this ). Gently points toward a small parting of crowds that almost looks like it appeared for the two of them. Once he moves, she begins to follow. ]
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The club exit's a much less glittering place. A signless door in a dark alley where the local resturants store their dumpsters. Nevertheless, the Prior they're following has only made it this far before pressing the person he's with up against the wall.
With his hand in hers, the Prior not living the memory clears his throat and glances across on her.]
I'm not sure whether I should be apologizing for this or charging for it. What are you doing in my head?
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She's not... startled, exactly, when he addresses her directly. But her attention does snap back, eyes back on Prior; and while the casual question is strange enough to be chilling, she isn't visibly at a loss. A hand begins reaching for her phone as she shrugs, gently the other hand slipping out of his in order to have both hands on the device ( takes a moment to catch his eye, and smile apologetically ). It takes her a minute before she's done her response, turning the phone for him to read: ]
It wasn't by choice, believe it or not.
Looks like trips down memory lane are popular for everyone. [ For one reason or another. ]
& i feel fine
Everyone probably assumes he's on drugs.
Or they would, if they noticed him at all. There's no indication that they do.
It's the kiss that brings him back to himself. Nash is a surprisingly straightforward kisser. Earnest, almost. But he doesn't let it go on too long. When the kiss breaks, his voice is still jittery. ]
Please tell me that it's quieter.
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He keeps in close, face lit by the shifting colors in the club but blocking out the chaotic tangle of bodies and strobe light behind him.]
I suppose La Ciccone can't be to everybody's taste. Come on.
[Rather than taking the lead toward the door, he turns them both and walks backwards - it's a talent he first practiced with the maid's shoes in his parents bedroom. Doing things backwards in heels. But it means not letting Nash lose the focus on him despite the beat pounding up through the floor hard enough to shake up a pulse.
When they spill out onto the street it's a narrow little alley, dark, and fragrant with cocktails and urine. Careful where you tread. At least the music's only a headachey thud in the background now, it's quiet enough to answer Nash's question properly.]
Quiet as you like. The only son et lumiere's the moon and the water. Will you come with me?
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Luckily life in a quasi-medieval fantasyland has well prepared Nash for urine on the streets. But the thick of New York is still restless and wild, and Nash is still, well, staring at it. He has never seen a dumpster before. It presents a mystery. ]
Is this your… [ Nash would call it magic, normally, but he's seen enough about Prior's gifts to know that they aren't the deliberate spellwork he's familiar with. ] Are you doing this?
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[Lets explore something more interesting than the dumpsters. Prior's picked up the guide role again, out of the alleyway into a much wilder world. Even at this time of night the city's buzzing with neon and the competing calls of bars and clubs. A hawker with a loudspeaker's in one doorway selling knockoff luxury while other doorways are scattered with people making more desperate attempts to sell themselves. It's the early hours but the streets are still busy with people in their nightly finery, snatching something hot and sour smelling from the nearest cart to eat on their way to the next venue.
None of it's shiny or new enough to drag Prior's attention from Nash, who's the real startling thing here. Part of him's aware enough to know that on one level this isn't real, and when it once was it only ran something like this.]
I'm meant to be with somebody else. But it feels like there's something in my head screwing with how this one runs. [His memory and his gift, playing havoc with each other. He's not used to that - or wasn't, back in '81. There's a touch of wonder in his voice, until he catches a streak of blue of of the corner of his eye and - that's where he's supposed to be.] Shit, we're going to lose me. Are you coming?
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If I were the one doing this, I would have made myself look younger. [ Obviously. ] But you're right. I'm not much for supposed tos, but I don't think I belong.
[ Following Prior, it just becomes more obvious. He stops and starts, his attention carried off by the noises of the street and the lights changing colors. Nash has never in his life felt provincial, and it still hasn't occurred to him. He still almost trips, trying to catch up with Prior. But he doesn't need to catch his breath. ]
I couldn't find my way alone.
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He notices only when he looks around and... picks something curious off a shoulder. Noodles?]
Well no. Though it looks like you found your way into a carton of General Tso's just fine.
[What the. It's enough of a distraction to make him laugh and take up Nash's hands again, checking him over for more stray snacks.]
And I hope you know it's disingenuous for someone so attractive to complain about their age. Think of those poor souls who never had looks to lose. [They're supposed to be somewhere, the memory he's chasing doesn't play out under a set of streetlights but]
We'll take a cab.
[Or not. The two steps Prior takes with his hand lifting toward the buzzing street pull them straight through a looking-glass shimmer that hadn't seemed there until they touched it, and out into a darker, cooler spot. Apparently his memory hadn't paid much attention to the ride.
They're in a park, on the wrong side of high, closed gates and with a path stretching ahead and behind them. There are very few lights, but enough to see another Prior just ahead, twined comfortably around the person he's walking with.
The Prior beside Nash blinks after them.]
Huh. I suppose that's one way to save on a fare.
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