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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prompto argentum / ffxv / closed.
➟ noctis.
But a lot has changed, and...he'll get to that. He hadn't wanted to overwhelm Noct all at once while he was still getting used to this world, but now that he's had some time to process everything, Prompto had better broach some, uh, more...personal topics.
He hasn't said much about the twins yet, except to explain that they're from a world similar to theirs, and for all Prompto is bursting at the seams to drop The Bomb on his best friend, it's surprisingly difficult to broach. He sliiiiiiiightly understands now why Alisaie hadn't told Alphinaud about their engagement right away. It's hard to catch people up on things like this, to illustrate so profoundly just how much they have missed out on.
So, one thing at a time. With a little spring in his step, Prompto leads Noctis towards their little house on the far side of Wyver and up the walkway to the door, chattering the whole way there. ]
Check out the digs! Not too shabby, right? It's no Citadel, buuuut it works. It's got, like - furniture, and everything!
[ Look, it's still a big deal for him to be an Adult with a house and furniture. ]
i'm here finally
it's safe to say they have plenty to talk about. and they have had the time, but instead, they're just cracking a bunch of dumb jokes and playing around. it's easier to go back to what they are used to. Noctis isn't complaining. he doesn't even ask why the hell Prompto is rooming with a set of twins for some reason. all he can manage to ask is the truly important stuff as they begin to approach his home— ]
—Not too shabby at all. But, uh... Wyver? What's up with that? The Olympia brochures were closer to Insomnia if you were looking to cure homesickness.
[ he's still a spoiled baby, ok. he didn't think he'd be living in Wyver is all!! ]
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At least, until the bomb dropped. ]
Rent's cheaper out here. 'Sides, those Olympia guys? Way stuffy.
[ He pushes the door open and leads the way inside where Peo, his dog, is immediately beelining for Noctis to customarily sniff him out. He's friendly though, tail wagging as he approaches. The house itself definitely shows signs of somewhere Prompto would live - namely, picture frames adorn every surface, featuring photos both from Eos and from El Nysa. Prompto has...evidently been here awhile, to accumulate such a collection. ]
Here we are! Home, sweet home. You want the grand tour?
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➟ alphinaud.
The sudden sound of sharp, violent coughing from the bedroom beyond.
...It takes Prompto only a moment, then. To realize where they are, and when. They have stepped into a place that is not only a memory, but also a nightmare.
He goes stiff, pale even in the darkness, watching himself rush from the kitchen into the dark bedroom in a panic. Dimly, he is aware Alphinaud is still with him, and while he can't begin to understand what's happening or if this is even real, he manages to stammer between shallow breaths: ]
D-don't. Don't go in there.
[ He doesn't need to see it. Alisaie sick with the plague, coughing up blood all over her hands, her nightdress, the sheets. He doesn't need to see any of it. ]
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And then Prompto's telling him not to go in there. And he doesn't ... quite know how he feels about that. There's a very large part of him that would rather not have this horror burned into his memory as well. He's still having nightmares about her dying, and seeing more could easily push him over the edge into having serious trouble sleeping. But he's ... he cares about his sister so much. It's hard not to go to her. So, so very hard.
His voice is a bit quiet when he speaks, solemn. ]
Because that is my sister, I presume.
[ The coughing. ]
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...Y-yeah. This is...the time I told you about. When she was sick.
[ One hell of a memory for Alphinaud to witness, yet as it is a memory, it must go where Prompto recalls. He wasn't in this room at this point in time, and so shortly after he jogs into the room to assist the ailing Alisaie, the vision swims around them, and regardless of his warning, Prompto and Alphinaud find themselves in the bedroom anyway, while Alisaie continues to cough.
There's blood everywhere.
This time, Prompto doesn't know what to say. To know that Alisaie would recover doesn't make this any easier to watch, to bear, even for him. No - all he can do is watch on in abject horror, his gaze slipping to Alphinaud to see if he can read how he's taking it. ]
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➟ aranea.
Even still, he isn't...expecting to find himself here so suddenly. Hadn't he just been walking through the woods? Had he fallen asleep? Passed out? But he doesn't have time to question it took much. This is strangely out-of-body, because he's...watching himself.
Watching himself be taking captive by Ardyn.
Instinctively, his hands ball at his sides, and he has to resist the urge to shout for himself to run, to get on that snowmobile and get the hell out of dodge before Ardyn can catch him. But it wouldn't have done any good, even if he could hear himself. There was no escaping Ardyn once he had decided to use him in his game for this purpose. ]
D-dammit...
[ He hasn't yet realized he isn't alone. ]
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She follows foot tracks, a long trail leading towards a particularly scrawny Chocobro that awaits for her. Instinctively, she calls out: ]
You couldn't pick somewhere warmer?!
[ Just... gonna blame him. Yup. ]
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He swallows thickly, turning back towards Aranea. Not the one in his memory, he thinks. She hadn't said that during their last meeting on the frozen tundra. ]
You...aren't gonna like this.
[ Not once the Chancellor makes his appearance. ]
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➟ cain.
But that doesn't make any sense, either, because there's only one straight path to follow. He couldn't have been that distracted as to accidentally take a wrong turn and get turned around. Or...could he have?
Well, there's only one way to be sure.
Prompto summons a handgun into his grip, levels it at the tree, and fires at the trunk. The bark splinters and groans, creating a definite, unmistakable mark. It's a pretty effective way of marking his path.
...It's also extremely quiet. Impossibly quiet for firing a gun.
He pats a hand over one of his ears, testing his hearing. ]
Ohhhhkay, this is gettin' weird.
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[ He turns to look at the tree — the tree that has smooth, unmarked bark. No sign of the gunshot that Prompto had left in it only seconds before, and Cain shivers despite himself. It's an awful feeling, knowing that he's been here, that he's already met this man, that he's already seen the tree's bark splintering, the bullet burying itself in the trunk.
But it hasn't happened yet. Or it already has? Ugh. A chill runs down Cain's spine. ]
You're going to shoot it. To leave a mark, so we can tell if we've been this way before? [ He's faintly apologetic; this is weird, he knows it's weird, and there's not anything he can do about it except try to make it easier for them both. ] You're Prompto, right?
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Prompto dismisses his gun in a flash of purple light - or is he summoning it again for the first time? He had it out before, didn't he? And yet here it is in his hand again, and this time, when he looks at the tree, it is whole and unblemished. ]
Yyyyyyyeah. H-how did you know - ?
[ But before he can finish his question, the sound of a gun cracks through the air, and he ducks. He didn't fire his, so it must be someone else firing at them, right?
When he looks at the tree this time, the bark is splintered. ]
...The hell?
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➟ rocket.
Because that's what this is. A nightmare he's lived through before, and as Prompto's footfalls shift from falling on soft grass and ground to hard stone tile, he stumbles to a stop, watching...himself, in a place he visits too often in his dreams.
The Niflheim Research Facility. His birthplace, for all intents and purposes.
He should get out of here. Desperately wants to, but there is something morbidly gripping about it, about watching himself discover the darkest parts of his origin. Facing...his maker. His father. It's horrible, all over again, and he can't stop it, can't tell himself things will work out.
No, he can only follow himself, can only watch the horror dawning on his own features, while his actual self remains uncharacteristically drawn and quiet. ]
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Of course this is Prompto's memory. He sees the memory version in his hat and coat before he finally ends up beside the real thing, observing the final confrontation. There's a lot he could say, both sarcastic and not, but he just ends up watching this with a chill down his spine and a grim expression on his face, and when he speaks, it's almost somber.]
Dads are real jerks, huh?
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His voice is quiet, subdued, nowhere near his usual energy levels. ]
...You're tellin' me. Just think about havin' to visit that guy for the holidays.
[ It's a joke. See? It's fine. He's fine. ]
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➟ alisaie.
Or so he thinks, anyway.
Prompto has scarcely laid his head down in his sleeping bag, curling close to Alisaie and finding her hand with one of his, before he falls straight to sleep. Straight to sleep and into a dream, and as expected...it's another memory. But not one he has yet visited this day.
No, in fact, it's from a time much, much earlier in his life than the other memories he has been reliving today, and to be honest, it's a welcome reprieve.
Even if he was a dork of a kid, at least it's a good memory, and Prompto can't help a small smile at the sight of his younger self discovering the injured Pryna, and taking her in to take care of her. ]
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or so she thinks she is, at least. this dream feels.. strange, and not in the way that dreams generally are, not the same nonsensical oddness that accompanies them - no, this feels strange in how not strange it feels. it is less like a dream and more like an.. experience.
a memory.
alisaie watches quietly for several long moments before at last stepping up to prompto's side, her hand settling gently on his elbow. ]
I knew you were cute.
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It's a pleasant memory to witness, but that doesn't stop the blush from creeping up into his cheeks at Alisaie's appearance within it. He may have told her of this memory before, how this simple chance encounter had changed the course of his life, but that doesn't mean he isn't still a little self-conscious about his younger self, even in her eyes.
Seriously...look at those glasses! The chubbiness! The hair.... ]
Hey, you're just obligated to say that.
[ He says through a lopsided grin, nudging her with his elbow. ]
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➟ rosalind.
He wasn't, a moment ago, but that seems to be besides the fact, now. How this memory that Rosalind finds herself in will be...peculiar, as it starts with Prompto and Noctis talking about the strange weather, but then things change dramatically for the worse.
One moment, they're making comments about the clouds, and the next, Noctis is attacking him.
Rosalind may discern what is going on, for her familiarity with the magic behind it, even if the man responsible does not reveal himself. But the person that Noctis sees Prompto as is not Prompto himself, but Ardyn, and so Prompto is pursued across the train, by his best friend who is trying to kill him, telling him everything is his fault.
Prompto - the actual Prompto - is watching it, too. He knows why it's happening, and he doesn't hold it against Noctis for a second.
But that makes it no easier to watch. ]
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It's odd, seeing both Ardyn and Prompto in their world. Foreign, and a little invasive in a way she hadn't expected. For better or worse, both men are important to her (albeit in wildly different ways), and so to watch them interact . . . it's odd. Though it sheds a little more light on why Prompto had reacted so defensively during her own transformation.
Ardyn (Prompto, really, and it's jarring to hear such casual slang slipping past her husband's lips) ducks and dodges, and Rosalind's fingers curl at her sides as the prince slams him against the train wall.
And that's another thing. The prince (Noct, and it's bizarre to hear that in Ardyn's drawling tone, bizarre not to hear a spark of spite or disdain or fury that she imagines would normally be contained within it) fights so viciously. He attacks wildly, swinging his sword recklessly. It's a miracle he doesn't kill anyone, but perhaps he despises Ardyn that intensely.]
Where was he during all this?
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➟ x'rhun.
It's...sort of funny, in a way. Prompto knows exactly how this moment felt, the fear and dread he experienced, but it's another thing entirely to see it written upon his own face so clearly. And it doesn't help one bit that he knows exactly how this will go. What's coming.
In a few moments, they are joined so auspiciously by Ardyn, but Prompto doesn't yet realize that he hasn't been alone this whole time.
Someone else has been watching, too. ]
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It is only when the Prompto of the past stirs, speaking, does he look in his direction. It’s sometime after that initial moment that he even thinks to look for the real Prompto, the one who had been in the kitchen with him, and X’rhun finds him off to the side, staring with a look that all too well tells him how this memory will play out.
He nearly says something when another familiar voice cuts through the silence, and as X’rhun turns sharply towards the specter of Ardyn, he feels suddenly like the floor is no longer beneath him. After the exchange, an exchange which bodes nothing well, he quietly clears his throat to address Prompto of the present, who doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet. ]
Prompto…?
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➟ ardyn.
It's...weird, to watch himself from a distance, to play back this meeting, and this time, it's so much easier to see where Rosalind's tells are, where she and Ardyn differ in movement and posture, even when she wears his face. Maybe he just knows her better now, or maybe hindsight is twenty-twenty. Either way, it isn't easy to watch himself be tricked, but ultimately...
He'd learned a lot through this encounter, and if Ardyn ever wondered where Prompto started to pick up that pesky tendency of his to call out his own humanity - well, a lot of it started here. Prompto sincerely doubts this conversation ever reached Ardyn's ears by way of Rosalind, but even if it had, Prompto wouldn't have reacted any differently than he did when Ardyn had saved his life awhile back. He just...said what he thought was right.
So here they are again, watching this debate unfold, though Prompto doesn't realize he's not alone in reliving this particular memory. For him, it's an opportunity to almost feel a kindling of pride. It's so, so much easier now to acknowledge how far he's come, in ways great and small, in accepting himself. It may be about to be intruded up, but hey, at least he held that flame for a moment. ]
oh gosh sorry for the delay!
He steps forward, walking casually. The two are speaking of himself, his humanity, and something inside him twists as it often does. Rears up and decries the notion, wrapped up in resistance tenfold because someone from Eos is a part of this conversation.
His tone is low when he speaks. He might as well be a shadow lingering over Prompto's shoulder when he does.]
It's not nice to gossip, you know. My ears are absolutely burning. Though admittedly, the topic at hand is getting rather old.
no worries!!
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somehow this turned into ardyn actually wanting to show his past oops
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