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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Not right now. [ but he hadn't been... unafraid of the eating people and severed head-waving... ] Should I be?
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[Is the answer she gives him, sitting up a little more straight.]
Most humans would be scared.
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Luckily enough, someone taught me how to be less scared than most people. [ and that training inevitably informs his approach to her, sharp-gazed but not quite visibly wary. he avoids the term “human,” despite its accuracy. ] So we can just have a chat, you and me, since it seems like you’ve had a pretty shitty day.
[ or, y’know, life!! ]
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A chat...
[Novel idea. A bit funny, even, considering the setting...which has thankfully faded into something a lot more quaint - the French countryside, sans any blood stains. The manor that had been on fire earlier is in the distance, nothing more than a ruin. It's weird, whatever this experience is. The grass beneath her feels real, so much so she begins to pluck at the strands either side of her.
When was the last time someone wanted to just have a chat with her, genuinely? Not tell her what to do or scold her, or pretend they cared about what she was saying?]
Okay. [The sun seems warm, as does the breeze that messes up her bangs.] What shall we chat about?
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He offers her a hesitant smile. ]
It’s Diva, isn’t it? [ He thought he’d heard the name, during the blur of moments rushing past. Unfortunately, asking about what he witnessed might draw them back in, so — ] Maybe what we like to do back in reality. That’s good starter chat.
[ Not to mention, when he first arrived, the new risers had been trapped in simulations until they were snapped out of it by someone who knew it wasn’t real. ]
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I like to sing.
[It's the first thing that comes to mind as she digs her nails into the dirt, enjoying the sensation of soft soil against her skin.]
I've an enchanting voice, the most beautiful voice you'll ever hear in your entire life.
[A haughty claim, but it's one she can back, the way she says it lacking any sort of bragging tone. When it comes to the Chiropteran Queen's voice, she's second to none, not even her very own twin.]
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This simulation, too, doesn't seem to fade the way that the scenarios on the station do, even though she doesn't question him when he acknowledges the unreality. Where the hell are they? He tips back further, propping himself up on his elbows. Perhaps they simply need to wait this one out, like a glitch in the system. ]
Well, go on then. [ an expectant look. ] You can't just leave me hanging after saying something like that.
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Have you ever been to Russia?
[It's a question she doesn't really expect an answer to. As far as she knows, he might not even know what Russia is. She returns his expectant look with one of her own, a smile suddenly spreading its way across her lips. She pulls her fingers out from the ground, shifting so she can move to stand instead. There's dirt under her pointed nails, but she doesn't seem to mind.
The song she picks is one she first heard many, many years ago in the aforementioned country. A vocalise whose melody is now famous, having outlived its composer. There's a chance Eggsy might be familiar with it, regardless of whether or not he knows its origins. When she does begin to sing it's obvious from the first note that there's something different about her voice. There are no words to the song, just a single vowel that Diva seems to twist and turn at her leisure, and yet the emotion she pours into it is overflowing.
It will be impossible for him to take his eyes off of her, her voice demanding her audience of one's complete and utter attention. While her song may not have the same potent effect on humans as it does other Chiropterans, the sound is still mesmerizing, otherworldly even, and quite literally entrancing.
Perhaps most striking of all, is how much she seems to be enjoying herself. Diva may be quite the menace, but if there's one thing her song does convey it's that she's not a being consumed by her past - only shaped by it - into what Eggsy sees before him.]
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The sort of music that Eggsy listens to is a far cry from Diva's song — but perhaps it's a tune that Harry enjoyed in their shared home, and it hardly matters when it's more captivating than any songs that he swipes through on his phone. He finds himself sitting up straighter once again, leaning forward in obvious interest. He doesn't understand the song, not really, but he finds himself moved by it. Impressed, too. he doesn't know much about music, generally speaking, but he can tell her selection is difficult. ]
Wow. [ ah, that's probably a stupid thing to say, but he's surprised. ] You could be in, like, Phantom of the Opera if you wanted. [ quietly forgetting that London (and the West End with it) are gone, as he often does, and that others don't understand his cultural references. At least he realises his immediate reaction doesn't do her performance justice, so he goes on. ] That was really beautiful, Diva. [ his mouth hooks into a smile. ] Properly enchanting.
[ as promised. ]
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Thank you, Eggsy.
[What a funny, odd name. One she's still trying to wrap her head around, but it's fine. It makes him interesting. The eggy human who doesn't like eggs.]
It's a song I learned when I lived in Russia for a time.
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standing up, he dusts himself off and looks from Diva to the scenery. maybe they need to move to escape, after all. ]
Did you like it there?
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It was okay. Russia can get rather chilly. It was nice though, being treated like royalty for a time. I got to eat rather tasty things and wear beautiful dresses.
[She stops rocking on her heels, bringing her hands back out front.]
I left before they killed the Tsar though. I haven't been back since then.
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Right, yeah. 'Course not. [ Before they killed the Tsar!! Of course she's retro or one of them immortal types on top of being...fanged. Briefly, he considers a question about what tasty things (or, uh, people) she ate, but it's something he doesn't want answered ever, honestly, so he focuses on another peculiarity instead. ]
Sorry, did you say royalty? [ a beat. ] Are you a princess or something?
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I lived with the Tsar's family for awhile. [No need to go into too much detail there.] I'm not a princess though, I'm a queen. A Chiropteran Queen.
[And before he can inquire as to what a Chiropteran might be, she'll give him that answer too:]
A kind of vampire.
[Y'know, since there are a few types here and all that.]
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Oh. [ PROCESSING... A vampire seems like the word for it, in retrospect, but he's only met witches, as far as the supernatural goes. Somehow, a vampire is a hell of a lot weirder. He'll have to ask Nightingale about her. ]
Should I be addressing you as Queen Diva, then, or more like — [ he extends his hand with a flourish and lilts his voice, imitating a posh accent ] — May I escort you on a walk across the grounds, Your Majesty?
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Looks like Eggsy's willingness to indulge her a bit has her giddy, as she eagerly takes his hand in hers, careful to mind her sharp nails in doing so.]
You're quite the British gentleman, aren't you?
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I learned from the best of British gentlemen.
[ and that, at least, is true, with the memories of it fond enough to soften the smile on his face (and permeate this strange place, with the grassy ground slowly shifting into a thin dirt path that loops around the area. Taking her dainty hand, he has to wonder if she's supernaturally strong, too, although he doesn't intend to test that theory any time soon. Instead, he lightly guides her in the direction opposite the manor ruins. He still doesn't understand where they are, but he assumes it best to move away from the past. ]
'Course I haven't got any sort of title.
[ it seems wise to make the distinction between his attitude and his class, given that she's a bloody royal. ]
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[Really, she doesn't. Now that she's got her hand in his, Diva sees no reason not to swing their arms a bit as they walk through the abandoned property. Nature's taken over, it seems, and honestly? It's far more beautiful this way.]
I'm a queen of my species, not of any country or place. Some people might not say that counts.
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But you're still queen for your people, right? [ """people""" ] Reckon that's the most important thing for a royal, having subjects and all
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I suppose I am, yes. They have no choice but to obey me.
[Quite literally. Those sired by her were affected by her voice and her Chevaliers, whether they liked her or not, had such a bond and loyalty to her they had to heed it.]
But I think it would be nice for people to like me for me.
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But then she goes on and sounds like a sad girl again, and he feels a sharp pang at her words. ]
I'm sure people like you for you. [ she is being charming with him, at least — rough start and vampire chat notwithstanding. ] I already like you.
[ PLEASE DON'T BE SAD and also don't mention the vampire thing again wheezes ]
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[She doesn't mean that in a bad way, it's just a genuine observation of hers. For a human to like her after everything they'd seen her do...he must have a pretty strong stomach.]
But I'm strange too!
[So they can be two peas in a pod, or something to that degree.]
Even though not liking eggs makes you weirder.
[Just a bit.]
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then the mention of the eggs startles a laugh out of him. is that his identifier now... granted it's the reason for his nickname, but still. ]
Oi, one of the perks of being my friend is that when breakfast is on the table, you get my eggs, too. It's a win for everyone.
[ he thought about this... ]
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[There's more of a skip in her step now, as she gives their hands a stronger swing. Whatever somber mood she might've had earlier has melted away into something far sunnier. The backdrop of their little encounter reflects it too, a warm breeze whipping her long hair around.]
Are we going to have breakfast then? Are we really friends now?
[Was it really that easy? Oh...but there's one problem, one little snag-]
...But breakfast's past. Lunch too, I think.
[What time was it even?]
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If you want, yeah. [ to breakfast and being friends. ] Could do breakfast for dinner. My mum used to make that all the time when she was working. [ He hums in thought. Maybe on the station instead of at the spy cottage, though, seeing as Diva eats... other things... ]
[ 'Course he can't help but think this is like If You Give a Mouse a Cookie only with, er, vampires and eggs somehow. ]
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