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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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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Well, that's true.
[ she laughs, softly, her hand slipping down to his, the other coming to grip his arm so she can lean against him, though her eyes remain on the boy, and the cute little dog he cares for so sweetly. ]
But I do mean it.
[ you know how painfully honest she is, plumpto.. ]
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It's...pretty weird, to be back here again. Heh... [ He takes a long glance around this place, his childhood home. ]
...After Insomnia fell, I...never even heard if my parents were okay.
[ And while they weren't close, they were still his parents, the ones who had taken him in despite his origins, despite the codeprint on his wrist. Had they lived? Did they evacuate? What would they think of him, if they saw him now? As they aren't in stasis, about...all he can do now is speculate. ]
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she turns her eyes from the scene to study his profile, her arms wound around his own tightening. ]
Have you checked the stasis pods?
[ she has no way of.. knowing..... ]
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It makes it easier to keep smiling when she asks that question. ]
...A few times. Haven't...found 'em yet. Maybe they're still up there, though.
[ The place is huge, after all, and he's not one to lose hope. ]
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[ much as she would love nothing more than to tell him that it will be fine, that they are up there, she does not possess the same unswerving hope that he does, at least not to the same degree. she hopes they are there, but they may very well not be, and she does not like to make promises that she cannot keep.
but they will look.
for now, she leans her head against his bicep and smiles at the sweet, clumsy little boy ahead of them. ]
I wish I could talk to him.
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...What would you say to him?
[ He can't help but be curious. ]
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[ a light laugh bubbles in her chest, and she nudges him playfully, turning her face up to him again, with a bright smile. ]
And that he is perfect just as he is. Who he is.
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Her words touch his heart so deeply that it's all but impossible to ward the tears off completely, and though they do not fall, they cloud his eyes, paired with a smile of his own that is deeply affectionate and grateful. ]
Hearin' that from a pretty girl like you? Heh. He wouldn't have known what to say.
[ He cups her cheek with his free hand, his thumb skating over her skin sweetly. ]
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[ after all, it's not as if adult prompto were any better. remember how he screamed when she cuddled him? pepperidge farms remembers. alisaie definitely remembers.
her teasing grin says as much, and the playful way she nips at his thumb. ]
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Probably would've taken a picture of you and looked at it every day... [ His features wrinkle. ] N-not in a weird way!
[ But kind of in a weird way. He did sniff that letter Lunafreya sent him a lot...
He's about to pull her in for a kiss - shield your eyes, younger self!! - but as he leans in, the atmosphere around them begins to blur. Shift. It's not the same as when they had emerged from her memory, when it had simply ceased to be around them, but something else seems to be taking form. Something dark, and...cold.
Very cold. ]
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anyroad, she tips up her chin, ready for that kiss when the scenery begins to shift quite suddenly, alarmingly, a cold gust at her back. her hands in prompto's vest tighten, tense, and her bright gaze snaps all around them, instantly. ]
What is this?
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His body goes rigid in an instant, tension sweeping over his expression as his eyes flicker around the barren landscape around them. It's dark, but there's no mistaking it - the frozen tundra of Niflheim, the wind biting cold and harsh, the land wasting and empty. And nearby, an alcove with flickering fire, a sole occupant around it.
He knows exactly what is about to unfold, but even then, he looks away, almost...ashamed. ]
Oh, no...
[ Not this. She doesn't need to see this. Not him at his lowest. ]
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she does not expect what comes next. the branch he lifts from the fire, still smoldering, and it may very well be a memory but that does not stop her from gasping aloud when he holds it over his wrist, or her sharp cry of horror when he brings it down. ]
No-
[ she cannot help it, she darts to him, her hands open and hovering, her heart pounding, but he is not.. him. not truly. but gods, what she would not give to reach him right now, this prompto, this silly, stupid, heartbroken fool. ]
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But he hadn't gone into any great detail, and now she has to witness this, his utter anguish and loneliness.
Still, neither is he expecting her to go to that past version of himself, to sweep down towards him, protective and attentive as ever, and when he looks back on this later, perhaps he won't really be surprised. She always takes such good care of him...but in this time and place, she cannot reach him. At least, not this version of him, this specter of his past.
Branded for life. ]
Alisaie —
[ He rushes down towards her, arms around her shoulders to pull her back, away, murmuring that it's okay, it's okay, but it's not. He had never reached so low a point in his life, never felt so worthless as he had in this moment.
But he isn't this person anymore. He's better, stronger, in no small part because of her. ]
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his arms come around her, his voice so close to her ear, but she cannot look away, however much she wants to. it is a private moment, one he had not shared with her and so she should.. respect that, yet she cannot seem to tear her eyes away when all she wants is to help this lonely, idiot boy. ]
Oh, Prompto..
[ what can she say? what words could she possibly offer? certainly nothing that can ease her heartache or his anxiety, nothing that could ever take away the pain he experienced in these moments. all she can do it lift her hands to close them over his arms around her, anchoring herself in the warmth of his skin. ]
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Instead, he leans into her, his breathing shallow and uneven, but his voice steady enough. ]
On the bright side...things can only get better from here, y'know?
[ He manages a ghost of a smile as Aranea appears through the darkness, bringing with her a potion ready to heal his smoldering wrist. ]
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but gods, that does not make it easier. if only she had met him sooner..
distantly she is aware that perhaps he needed this, that this time spent alone with only himself was exactly what was required for him to pull through it. important as it is to be able to rely on others, it is equally important to learn to stand on your own two feet - alisaie learned that in her way, and prompto, perhaps, in his. like this. still her protective instinct is strong and ferocious and it is difficult to not want to leap to his aid like an angry mother bear, and tear all that threatens him to shreds. even if it is himself.
when aranea appears to heal him, the pressure on her heart eases a little, but still it is not easy to listen to their conversation, to hear the pain in his voice, his uncertainty, his loneliness. she does not answer, only dips her head to press her nose and mouth to his forearm, her grip still firm and tight. ]
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It's something he appreciates about Alisaie, as well. For all she is gentle and sweet to him, she is also firm, direct, uncompromising when he falls into the traps within his own mind. She pushes him hard when he needs it, and that's a large part of why he's come as far as he has. She simply...will not stand for him treating himself less than he deserves.
It's still an uphill climb, each and every day, to recognize his own worth, his value. But he's getting there, and he can appreciate now, more than ever before, just how far he's come.
He dips down to rest his chin on her shoulder, turning his mouth to her temple to murmur against her skin. ]
It's okay. I'm...I'm not him anymore.
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his words distract her, and alisaie breathes hard through her nose, a deep crease in her brow, the corners of her mouth turned down into a hard frown. her hand on his forearm slips aside, seeking out the skin of his wrist, the tattoo there that he so despises.
she does not despise it. she loves it. while she can in no way condone what that man had done to bring prompto into the world, she is nevertheless grateful that prompto is here, with her, beside her, against her, warm and real and alive. that someone so very wonderful could come of something so terrible is truly a miracle, and that tattoo is not a foul brand, but a symbol of his strength, his freedom, his life. without it, there would be no prompto at all. ]
Should you ever attempt such a stunt again, there shall be a reckoning.
[ her tone is quiet yet....... terrifying. she means business. ]
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A pleasant chill runs over him when she touches his wrist as it always does, a tense sigh slipping out of him. The weight of reliving this scene still presses down on his shoulders, his heart, but at least he experienced this with her, the one who knows him completely, the one he trusts implicitly, the one he knows will not judge him for what she has seen.
He turns his face down against her neck, burrowing against her skin until he can't see the glow of the fire beneath his eyelids anymore. ]
Believe me, I won't. Hurt like a bitch, anyways.
[ But that is far from the only reason he will not. ]
Who knows? Maybe someday I'll ditch hiding it altogether.
[ Maybe someday. ]
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I hope you do.
[ she cannot force him, and even if she could, it would achieve nothing. only prompto can decide when he is ready to leave it behind him, to wear that mark with ambivalence, at the very least, if not pride. but still she will pray for that day to come, for the time he truly, fully, and completely accepts himself for who he is, and sees at last what she sees when she looks at him, what others see, all those whose lives have been touched by his bright laugh and irresistible kindness.
someday. someday he will be strong enough. ]
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No, he is still not quite there all the way, but he's closer than he's ever been.
The last thing he's aware of as the memory melts away is the soft press of her kisses to his hair, and then...
They're back in the tent, the night quiet around them, though he is not quiet. For all it may have been a memory and not a dream, he still feels mentally and physically exhausted like he's been through a nightmare, his body shivering and his cheeks stained with tears, his fingers wound tightly in her clothing as he whimpers softly, his body curled towards her.
For a moment, all he can do is shudder as he comes to terms with being here again, that he can once again leave Niflheim in his memories, in the past.
He just...needs a moment. ]
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had it been a dream? his arms around her, the warm fire on the cold tundra, the horrible, pained sounds he made - it echoes in her mind so vividly, and it takes her only a few moments to knit together an assumption of what has happened. prompto moves fitfully beside her, and it is all too easy to tighten her hold around him, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers slipping into his hair. ]
Hush, love..
[ she whispers, groggy and half aware and yet molding to him so easily nonetheless, so easily falling into the motions. her fingernails draw against his scalp in lazy circles, scratching gentle paths to the nape of his neck, and in a low, quiet voice she begins to sing, soft and smooth and automatic, her eyes shut, her chin rested gently atop the crown of his head. ]
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