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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E but she saw the best dad
Truly, she's not that surprised. Just sickened to see this young man crushed, and his own flesh and blood not give a damn.
Theon had told her his father was dead. As dead as someone could be, perhaps, if they're in a pod on the station. At least there's that.
Good fucking riddance.]
Theon, wait.
[Even if he's not going anywhere and there's nowhere to go, she knows he'll want to bolt as soon as possible. So, she reaches for his arm.]
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He turns to face her, and he laughs, a brittle, anxious laugh that can’t mask what he’s feeling. It was the moment that fueled his decision to betray Robb, and he hadn’t wanted to relive it. ]
What? What do you want?
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A part of her is glad she has despite it making her very much wish she could deck his father.]
It's all right, Theon. Just take a deep breath.
That was... [Well. It was something.]
Not the homecoming you expected, was it?
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Theon simply laughs again. He’s trying so hard to build up his walls once more, but they crumble around him each time. With every attempt at a smile, he collapses. ]
No.
[ He snaps, clearly agitated. His hands are shaking, he still hasn’t taken that deep breath, and he’s still searching for a place to run. ]
Ten years. I was--I was gone for ten years. He greeted me as he would greet a thrall.
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I don't understand how a father could look at his son like that. [And yet Theon still wanted that acceptance. That didn't turn out well, did it? Claire tries to reach for one of his hands in an attempt to comfort him, or at the very least remind him where he is.]
You didn't deserve any of that. You know it, don't you?
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Fathers are like that.
[ He’s trying so hard to delude himself into believing this is okay, like it’s something he can shrug off and forget about. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten about it. Clearly it still eats away at him. ]
Pyke wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t what he wanted. We were both disappointed.
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No, they aren't. You know that. [No doubt Ned might have delivered some justice to his boys while growing up, but nothing cruel. Nothing without cause. She doesn't need to say that, though. She has a feeling Theon is acutely aware of so many things like this. Admitting them to himself is another issue.] Fathers don't give their boys away and not know how long it's been. Fathers do not treat their remaining son like a dog. I pity him for not realizing that.
[She might never tell Theon, but the best thing his father did was hand him over to the Starks, regardless of how cruel it was to a young boy. Surely he grew up better, even if... well. She could only tell Percy that Theon was troubled. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if his homecoming was warmer.
She doesn't reach for him again, but she does step closer.]
... I can tell you that you are wanted now, Theon.
[It might not mean much coming from someone who isn't a Stark, isn't a Greyjoy, isn't even from Westeros, but it must make a difference to hear the words. Just as Max had oh-so-subtly implied. She could tell him she trusted Theon, but did Theon himself know it?]
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Theon isn’t naive. He knows it, deep in his heart, but It’s something that no one wants to accept. He’s tried to blind himself to it, just as he tried to blind himself to the fact that it was Balon who chose to give him away. He growls through his teeth, frustrated as he swipes a sleeve across his eyes to stave his oncoming tears. Weakling, he scolds himself once more. What are you, really? ]
Lying to me will do no good. The Starks want nothing to do with me, and Asha and I could hardly stand to be in the same room as one another when she was awake.
[ He has Maximus, it's true, but their friendship isn't a replacement for the years-long friendship he formed with Robb. Is Claire a friend? He hasn't even considered it, really. ]
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[There's a wry tone to the question. No, obviously not, because figuring out where he is on the scale of Stark to Greyjoy is likely all that he sees most days. Claire knows she's been lucky to be one thing or another. A nurse, a surgeon, a healer. Claire Beauchamp, Claire Randall, Claire Fraser. She's always had a choice, and any doubts have always been quickly put to rest. She wishes it were that simple for him.]
It may not mean much to you now, but I do want you around. I care about you more than I do most people here.
[It's a different sort of relationship. A friendship? Perhaps. It's not like what she has with Sansa or Jon, though ironically not too long ago she had a similar conversation with him, letting him know that while his father might be gone and he may never know the truth about his mother, he'd have her. He'd have someone who cares for him in that way.]
We've known one another for what, half a year? I could never send you away. I couldn't imagine it. Hell, ten days go by and I'm thinking of a way to start a conversation with you.
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There usually aren’t people who actually want him around. His presence was forced upon the Starks, and even upon his own family. On the rare occasion he would find another young Northern lord he got along well with, their fathers still remembered Lord Balon’s rebellion and made certain a friendship didn’t manifest. He clings to his friendship with Robb for a reason. ]
Why?
[ It’s all he can manage. ]
Why do you care so much?
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I don't know. [Better than words that might make it sound like some sort of obligation. It's not. Not anymore, anyway.] Sometimes what draws us to people can't be explained, and that's all right. I just know that when we went out so you could show me your archery, it made me happy to see you... happy, I think. I want to see you happy.
[Probably more than his father wanted for him.]
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[ He repeats it with a soft huff, perhaps trying his best to laugh, but not quite managing. He’s still somewhat stunned. It makes sense now, the fact that she won’t simply go away, even when he’s been at his worst. ]
I don’t think Robb knew either.
[ Robb saw him at his best and…almost his worst, and their friendship never wavered. He knows what he admired in Robb, but he can’t see what Robb might have admired in him. It really is a wonder he lasted so long in Winterfell without cracking. It’s a wonder he managed to swallow so much anger and smile and laugh his way through it all. So little makes him happy, and not much has made him happy for a very long time.
Part of him wants to say it. Part of him wants to tell her just how unhappy he really is, but he can’t manage. Not yet. So he lies--poorly. ]
I’m happy enough.
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I don't think so.
[It's a light touch to his shoulder, trying to make contact once again, and this time to get him to turn and face her.]
You can look at me. I'm not going to bite you.
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At last, he turns, looking ashamed and upset, angry with himself, but not with her. ]
I’m fine.
[ Of course, he never is. ]
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You are not fine. [Cautiously, she dares to lift her hand from his shoulder to his cheek. One that his father struck once. She wonders how long ago the memory occurred. Either way, the words are fresh now, and if they're still ringing in Claire's ears, they must be screaming in his.] It's all right to not be fine, and to admit it--especially to me. After all you've told me, you not being fine isn't going to be the thing that makes me cast you aside.
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Paired with the moment he’s just relived, it feels as though the weight of the world is crashing down upon him. ]
Then what will be?
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Well, I might have some choice words if you... say, shot me, but I don't think I need to worry about that. [Hopefully. Theon isn't the most stable person, yet Claire wouldn't consider him unhinged. She gives him a small smile, looking over his face, wondering how his own blood could be so terrible to him. It broke her heart to leave Brianna as an adult, with her blessing. To hand off a child--]
I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want you to, either. I want you right here, right where you are. I'm not Robb Stark. Obviously. [She breathes out what might be a laugh. No, she's no young king, and not his best friend.] But I care for you. You matter to me.
[He seems to need it spelled out.]
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[ He’s shot men before, both purposefully and accidentally. He shot a man who meant to cut Bran Stark’s throat, and he shot a fellow ironborn in an attempt to stop an argument. He’s shot men in battle and threatened to shoot others, but he has no desire to add more blood to his hands, least of all Claire’s.
He frowns. He understands her words, but he simply doesn’t understand why. Why does he matter when he’s never mattered to anyone else? Perhaps he would understand better if he had any contact with his mother. Ravens, far and few between and always curt and short, arrived only from his father. ]
And yet you don't know why.
[ He tries to laugh as well, almost smiling. It really is ridiculous. ]
You might have made something up.
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Though if it's a request, I could try.
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He shakes his head, still frowning. ]
No. It will be a poor excuse regardless.
[ Because he’s still Theon, and he still has to give the occasional cruel jape. ]
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[It's not quite like her regard for Bree, or Fergus, but she knows long ago she made a promise to herself she wouldn't jump ship on him. He's not kind, or warm, or really all that pleasant to be around most of the time--but when he seems to be happy, seems to relax, then she thinks it's worth enduring his sour moods. He deserves another chance and the Storm has given it to him. She'll gladly help steer him in the right direction.]
So, it doesn't matter to me if you relate more to a wolf or a kraken. You're just Theon, and that's enough for me to want you around. I know what you've done, and I don't overlook that, but... we all have our sins. You can be a much better man than your father.
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I wonder sometimes if I wouldn’t be better off if my brothers had lived. Rodrik would be heir, and Maron after him. Nothing would be expected of me. Giving me away wouldn’t have even made any difference.
[ He would be useless, utterly useless, but that never seemed to bother any of the Stark children. Bran never seemed bothered by Robb being the eldest, but then again, perhaps Theon never paid close enough mind. ]
I wonder who I might have been then.
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[She tries for a smile again.]
As for now... you're not so awful. A brat, sometimes, but I've yet to meet someone your age who isn't.
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He huffs, but he says nothing more on the matter. ]
Some are worse.
[ Jon. He means Jon. ]
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[She knows he means Jon. Claire doesn't truly think so, but she can joke around in an attempt to lighten the mood.
What Jon doesn't know won't hurt him.]
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