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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no subject
He would have told me to.
[She's worrying her lip, jaw trembling and she's not sure whether she wants to cry, beg for his forgiveness, or hit him for that comment. How he must hate her now, but he doesn't have to treat her like she didn't even try.]
I went and got Drax. [There's tears in her voice, if not on her face. There's anger and pleading and anxiety all wrapped up in her words.] When Ego took you away, I woke up Drax.
[She looks at him then.
And pokes him in the chest. Hard.] So don't stand there and think that I don't know that this is wrong. I helped you. [She points to her younger self.] Who was going to help me?
no subject
Of all the things he was expecting in this moment, Mantis to stepping into his space like this definitely was somewhere at the bottom of the list. He jerks back, startled and staring.
He isn't being fair. He knows that, but knowing and understanding are two very different beasts. This is fucked up on so many levels, and this is fucked up for Mantis, but Peter's stomach still churns with rage and revulsion. It's been months – months – and Peter never did get the closure he's desperately wanted. And he never did get to the bottom of things – the why's, the how's, the what-if's.
A large, selfish part of him wants that to be now.
The scene resets. That wailing breaks the silence and makes Peter jump. He tears his gaze away from Mantis and sees Ego again, disgusted and disappointed, and Peter takes that moment to remind himself he's pissed at Ego. This was Ego's fault, this was Ego's doing.
Mantis was just doing what she needed to survive. And Peter knows a few things about that.
Another deep, shuddering breath, and his blasters click into place in their holsters at his hips. He scrubs his face with both hands, trying to mentally block out Ego's voice, the crying, and a young Mantis' timid responses. He isn't calmer – not by any means – but he's gotten a decent enough rein on his fury. His voice doesn't bear that same note of accusation. ]
So if Drax and Gamora hadn't come— [ Slow, hesitant. He's not sure if he wants the answer. ] If I'd been by myself. What would you have done?
no subject
The only answer she has to that question is horrific, but perhaps not in the way he expects.] Peter... the others were children. [Her voice breaks and she has to take a deep breath before continuing.] He did that so that they would not be able to fight back, whether they could wield his Light or not.
[She's certain that Ego would likely have not sought him out had he not already suspected that this one child of his -- grown now -- carried the Celestial gene. Ego dealt in children by design, because it was easier.
Easier to manipulate, to traffic, to dispose of. Just plain easier.]
You weren't by yourself. Even if you had been, you were the only person who might have had a chance to stop him.
[Because you weren't a child.
And because she was selfish enough to just survive.]
no subject
The nameless child falls silent again under Mantis' gentle care.
It's meant to be a reassurance, he thinks, though it sounds far from one. It feels... empty. False. Because he remembers how it felt falling under Ego's influence, how it felt to have the cosmos flying through his vision, how it felt to feel so unnaturally complete and content. It had been perfect. Beautiful. A slow, suffocating warmth.
If Ego had never told Peter about his mother, he's not entirely sure he would have broken out of his control. Worse, he's not sure he would have wanted to.
(In that moment, he's not sure if he had ever felt so wanted.)
He scrubs his face again, rougher this time, and he lets out a frustrated noise as the memory loops. The sound of Ego's footfalls bounce off the ornate walls and intricate columns and high ceilings and once his voice rings out again, Peter finally surrenders to impulse. His gun practically jumps into his hand, and he barely registers it until he's firing, blast after blast aimed at Ego's head.
Naturally, each blast passes straight through his smug face.
Peter lets out another frustrated sound and grumbles, out, ]
It was worth a try.
[ And holsters his gun again, jaw clenching as he finally forces himself to look around the place. ]
We need to look for a way out.
no subject
Out. Oh, yes, out would be good.]
We walked in. [She doesn't have much left in her to offer much for ideas; as it is, speaking is still a bit of a struggle and her voice is thin and brittle.] Maybe we can walk out.
no subject
In another moment, Peter might apologize for the outburst, for the way Mantis clearly seems upset – at him, at the way he's reacting, at the whole shitshow in general, he's not sure. As it stands now, though, he's not in a very apologetic mood.
He still has mind enough, at least, to hold up both hands in an almost instinctive, placating gesture. ]
Mantis.
[ Not gently, because right now, Peter doesn't have much of a capacity for it. But he says it quietly, slowly. ]
Take a breath. We're gonna get out of here, okay? But I need you to get it together.
no subject
Not only has she somehow dragged him into this horrific memory, she's been nothing but an anxious messed up weight dragging him down.]
I will. I'm sorry. [That's a loaded apology.] Can we at least try to walk away? I don't want to be here anymore.
no subject
(But then again, Peter isn't faring all that much better. He just has a lot more experience in getting his shit together when it counts.)
He lowers his hands, returning her nod and glancing around. He hadn't spent very long in Ego's palace, but it's basically as he remembers it. He picks a direction at random, once the memory loops again, but he pauses to ensure Mantis is following.
That, at least, he hopes is clear, even if his head is clouded: he doesn't have any intention on leaving her behind. ]
C'mon. We'll try this way.
no subject
She nods and falls into step with him. She feels as if she should ask him if there is anything else he wants to know. Her secrets are laid bare here and she's always been afraid that she's just not good enough for his friendship -- or Rocket's, or Gamora's. To give him even more of what he does not want to know does more than simply terrify her.
It would prove all of her self-doubts to be true.
It's resignation that drives away the anxiety - the same sort of resignation that allowed her to survive Ego's machinations. She will fall into place, she will do what needs to be done, and then...
...and then she'll figure out where she stands later.]
Maybe it's like the pockets of weird weather. If we walk for long enough, we might be able to leave.
no subject
(Maybe because he remembers how easily Ego had manipulated him when he was on his own. Peter had been alone with the guy for, what, less than an hour? And Ego had played him like a fiddle, had lured him in, bit by bit, and only at the very last second did Peter start thinking, Oh, this might not be good. He can't imagine what it might have been like for Mantis, who had spent her entire life at that bastard's side.
He doesn't want to be left alone with that asshole ever again.) ]
I hope it's that easy.
[ Though the faint edge in his tone betrays the fact that he thinks it probably won't be. When is anything ever that easy?
But after that, they fall into an uneasy silence as they trudge through the corridor. Peter's hands hover near the grips of his blasters – partly because he wouldn't put it past this weird phenomenon to throw an Ego-shaped monster at them, partly for his own peace of mind.
Minutes pass, and the corridor has barely changed, and Peter stops in his tracks. ]
—Is it just me, or does this hallway look the exact same as it did, like, thirty seconds ago?
no subject
What follows are some of the most painfully silent minutes of Mantis' life. She stays a couple of steps behind and to the side of Peter -- her default position when she walked with Ego and something she's never been able to break herself of here. Now, in the shadow of this ornate place, it's reinforced.
She stops with him, finally looking up from her feet to actually look around. Mantis takes a step back, brow furrowing as she looks up and down the corridor. She's spent her whole life wandering these halls. She knows them as well as Ego himself.
And Peter's right.]
We're not moving.
[Well, they're moving -- they're walking -- but they're not moving.]
no subject
Perfect. Just perfect.
[ He pinches at the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself back into a sense of calm, trying to swallow down that ugly, writhing thing that twists in his stomach. He's not thinking straight. His head is clouded.
His mood isn't helping, but he can't will it away any more easily than he could stop a snowstorm in winter. ]
Should we try a door or something? A different hallway?
no subject
But she could never do that with Ego and she can't do it here either.
She takes a deep breath -- and then another, obviously pulling herself together. Her hands are still clenched at her stomach and she very deliberately pulls them apart, flexing as the ache from having clenched them so tightly for so long settles into her knuckles.
Make yourself useful. She's not sure if she's hearing it in her own voice or Ego's, but it rings through her thoughts.]
No. [Thoughtfully; trying a different route will only likely result in more of the same. She raises her hand as she steps forward and lightly runs her fingers along the ornately decorated wall. It's caught her eye as she pulled the wandering pieces of herself back together.] No. Look.
[There are imperfections in the paint. The moldings don't quite line up. It's not perfect and Ego would have settled for nothing less.]
no subject
Reluctantly, he steps up beside her, frowning at the wall as Mantis examines it. With the carvings as elaborate as they are, Peter doesn't see it at first. In fact, his lips part to say as much, but just before he gives voice to his doubts, he finally spots one of the more noticeable faults. He ducks down a little, tracing it with his fingertips; the cracks are still horribly faint, barely even there. ]
How the hell did you even notice this?
[ Even with as pissed off at the situation as he is, Peter still manages to sound a little impressed. ]
no subject
No, that's not right. He believed himself perfect and he strove to recreate his own "perfection" across the universe. Regardless, he would not have stood for such imperfection in a creation of his own making.
So it stood out to her.]
I have roamed these hallways all my life. I know them.
no subject
He has an all too brief moment of clarity, when he realizes that if anyone gets what happened between him and Ego, if anyone would understand what a complete shitshow that was, it would be Mantis. She'd understand completely how Ego had manipulated him, how Ego had spun that web of words of all the things Peter's ever wanted to hear, how Ego had lured him in and slammed shut all the ways out before Peter even had an inkling that anything was amiss.
They had both lived it, he thinks. Maybe they came at it from two different directions, but...
But that's a thought for another time, when he can't still hear the distant, echoing wail of a child. He frees a blaster from his holster, tracing the walls to find a weak point. ]
Maybe we can just blast through.
no subject
She steps aside.] Perhaps so.
no subject
Unless you’ve got a better idea.
[ Listen, pissed as he might be, Peter’s open to suggestions, here. Mind stuff isn’t exactly his purview, and the last time anyone had messed with his head, the only thing that broke him out of it was one lone, terrible piece of truth, like taking a pick to a sheet of ice. ]