natha: (Default)
ɴᴀᴛʜᴀ orbiters ❰ mod collective ❱ ([personal profile] natha) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs2018-06-17 01:35 am

❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

HOUR OF RUIN    

Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again.

Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long.

There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see.

The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses.

REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE    
Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path.

His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster.

Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him.

Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon.

Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly.

IN WYVER    
Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state.

It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders.

IN OLYMPIA    
In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time.

The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted.

VIRTUOUS VERSE    
Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee.

With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos.

Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians.

THE RAGE    

Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master.

How bravely you've all come to meet your doom! Great heroes, one and all, ha! I welcome you, bring your best. Show me the power that's protected Olympia and Wyver, all that you have to offer me, whatever pitiful excuse for valor you seek to cling to when the fear has you cowering in your beds. All will be for naught in the face of Ysverai's might!

Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life!
Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end.

Raysc's attempt to control the dragon has only enraged him further, spurring Ysverai on to new heights of fury. It's become more vital than ever to face the dragon and take him down here and now. A few effective strategies are learned from research efforts and observed while defending Olympia and Wyver: goading the dragon into breathing fire will hurt him, burning him from the inside out, and attacks to his joints, eyes, wings, and exposed bone are effective. Ice is a natural repellent to dragons and can be used defensively or to weaken the dragon's hide. Healing spells will also react unnaturally to Ysverai's flesh, hastening his decay.

However, while concentrated efforts will lock him down, Ysverai cannot be permanently killed in this state — his flesh constantly rots and spawns anew. Attacking him here is to protect civilians, keeping him busy to avoid mass destruction elsewhere. Therefore, the battle is one of attrition, a matter of a race against time. You must destroy his flesh faster than it is able to regenerate to have any hope of victory.

Finally, when Ysverai is weakening, little more than bones with a few last vestiges of rotten meat hanging from a skeleton, the pathetic remnants of the last High Dragon takes to the skies. His wings are barely intact enough to carry him, yet desperation lifts him, higher and higher, until he lets out one great, earth-shaking roar.

A roar that carries across the battlefield, sending all who hear it to their knees. A roar that shatters the swords in soldiers' hands, that rends apart the very air itself — Ysverai's last act, a great curse upon El Nysa, to bring down the sky.

AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL    

The terror of Ysverai's destruction hangs overhead — a tear in the sky, darkness pouring through, tendrils reaching down towards El Nysa to swallow up the planet in the dragon's final act of revenge. And yet nothing moves. A halo of brilliant light surrounds the rift in the sky, holding the grasping, hungry tendrils in check. And on the planet, not a creature moves. Not a blade of grass stirs. You're not able to even draw a breath. No matter where you are, not even the heart in your chest is beating. Everything has stopped — time has come to a standstill.

In a wash of light, an aurora of transport, you find yourself delivered to Thesa Station. Darma stands before you, her expression solemn, perhaps even grim, though that may just be a trick of the station's harsh lighting. She explains what has happened in short order: planetside, time has been completely frozen.

We have seen the birth and end of worlds. The rise and fall of civilizations infinite times over. We have seen all threads of possibilities that could have lead to this very moment... Or should have. Perhaps you might doubt our sincerity when we say this comes as a surprise to us, as well...

Special technology has been used to blind us. To this day, we only know of one region capable of creating and utilizing such technology... you will find this technology in a city known as Nadril. We understand that you have created a life down in Wyver and Olympia, but now we must ask that you put that life on pause. We ask you to travel to Nadril and find the original Refugee, and with him, answers. As you will discover, he does not wish to speak to us. It is no matter. By now it is too late to keep the Nysan public unaware of our existence.

We commend the efforts of those who wish to protect their comrades on the battlefield below, but a creature like poor Ysverai, twisted and warped, given unnatural life with terrible magic and technology, does not simply go down with manpower. Please, leave Ysverai to us. Time on the planet will remain stopped while we determine how to deal with the dragon. For now, rest and recover your strength. We have returned, and soon, there will be new refugees awakening. Perhaps you might like to prepare yourselves to greet them?

I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought.
A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions.

Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station.
FINAL OOC NOTE    
Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three.

OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA

Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month.
willrevile: (0890)

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-07-04 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ As if from nowhere, Jim's phaser is in his hand and pointed - quick on the draw, like the space cowboy his generation of Starfleet officers are accused of being by the next - suggesting that even without the shield he's got, he may well have been able to tag the aggressors anyway.

But hey, it worked out. ]


Let's--

[ In the distance, Ysverai shrieks. The two civilians with them clutch their heads and Jim makes a pained face. ]

Let's just go.
inaurare: (Tense)

[personal profile] inaurare 2018-07-04 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Upset...

[it comes out on a tremulous breath, a light shake of his head]

I don't know. Perhaps so. I fear I haven't exactly sorted through my feelings, but I think... I looked to them to have some sort of answer. Some sort of direction. I never considered them... gods or the like, nothing like that, but they were powerful enough to bring me, bring us all here.

I'm tired, truthfully. I'm not sure I have it in me to carry on losing homes and worlds.
torchwoodteaboy: (sad)

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2018-07-04 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Ianto sits still by the other man's side, leaning against his shoulder and just listens. To the other man's breathing. To the sound his voice makes as he speaks. To the promises he makes.

It takes him a few moments to process just what exactly the other man is saying. Because it's subtle. Everything about every emotional statement John gives is subtle, Ianto is learning. Careful. It's taken so much just to drag so little out of him. But Ianto trusts his words to be true. He trusts John to uphold a promise he makes, because he also trusts John not to make a promise he cannot.

And it means something. To hear even so much as this, it means something. Which is rather startling, in its realization. It's so simple to be told that John isn't trying to go anywhere, that he shouldn't want to. But there it is, and it strikes him hard and fast and there come the tears again. He turns his head into the other man's shoulder and takes in a deep and shuddering breath, tightening his arm around his waist as his breath hitches again.
impavid: (❖ He's a victim of the times)

[personal profile] impavid 2018-07-04 10:19 pm (UTC)(link)
He supposes he should have expected this response, but John tiredly wishes he could say something at this point that doesn't result in more tears.

"Ianto," he protests weakly, but then he toes off his shoes again and sit back on the bed, draws the other man a little better into his arms. "I'm really... not good at this. I mean I've been aiming to make this better but I'm pretty sure I'm making you cry more, so unless you want me to resort to playing Ghost Riders in the Sky again I'm going to... need some direction here."

Is he even doing anything right at all? Is he making this worse? Should he just give up and get them both some beer to try and cope with this? John has no idea. This is far more crying within a 24 hour period than he's even experienced at a funeral. All Sheppard family funerals involve silent resentment and stoic misery.
baguablade: (45)

i accept u anyway

[personal profile] baguablade 2018-07-04 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well... It at least is an explanation. That was honestly more than Cain was expecting from Rohan, who seems to think that the world should just bow to his whim. And if it works as it sounds... Being able to write even one command into Ysverai would be able to make monumental difference.

It could change the very tide of battle.

Cain gives a decisive nod.
]

Alright. Hold on tight.

[ Just like that, he's decided. He'll trust Rohan.

And he sends the gryphon spiraling in, a bright streak aiming right for Ysverai's head.
]
torchwoodteaboy: (vulnerable)

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2018-07-04 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Ianto tucks himself close to the other man's chest and does his best to take a few calming breaths in and out, trying to steady himself because he knows that just crying at the other man isn't fair to him, especially because he appreciates this. He lets out a huff of breath at the mention of the song (he had wondered whether he'd try that tactic on him again, hadn't he) which sounds closer to a sob than it should and he tightens his hand on John's tshirt, shaking his head as he tries to collect himself.

"No, no," he says, roughly. "You -- you are. You. You are, I..." He takes in another breath, raising a hand to dash across his face. "I'm sorry, I. Don't mean to." He motions to himself. "Get emotional. I'm not -- usually this bad, I. I don't know what's wrong with me. Please, this is... Stay with me. Like this. I mean, I suppose it's your bed, so. You've got no choice, but." Look it's really hard to make light of a situation when you've been crying long enough your nose is starting to be congested but he's really trying. He does appreciate it, he does.
meinwaifu: hand chin (A little to the left ♪)

[personal profile] meinwaifu 2018-07-05 12:23 am (UTC)(link)
[For a moment, it looks as though Mephisto is going to snap at Chuuya, and he even turns his head to do so. But he says nothing, directing his attention back at the planet below and falling silent.]

...I suppose I should take this opportunity to heal you properly now that we're safe. [And it makes for a convenient excuse for himself to get away, certainly.]

And it would be nice to change into something that smells a bit less like blood and burnt flesh. [He turns now to face Chuuya, gesturing for him to lead the way.]

And perhaps a stiff drink while we're at it.
Edited 2018-07-05 00:23 (UTC)
braidedwonder: (i'll spill this blood for you)

[personal profile] braidedwonder 2018-07-05 12:28 am (UTC)(link)

[ Duo can read types of people.. at least he'd like to think so. He'd spent too much time training an already keen eye with people on his back about always getting things right to keep fucking it up. And, well.. he probably wouldn't have been so successful as a food thief and pick pocket if he wasn't good at spotting out a certain kind of person and chasing after them for when he wanted. At that time, anyway.

Right now he's not focused on getting something so much as getting people back to living safely if it's at all possible.

... Seems like a losing battle right now, but who knows by the end of the day. ]


Alright. Brace yourself. [ Duo slowly starts to lower the Gundam's hand again, moving to stand at the edge of his cockpit closure, hands in his pocket. ]

Take care out there!
braidedwonder: (it's all the same)

[personal profile] braidedwonder 2018-07-05 12:34 am (UTC)(link)

Thankfully Duo's an honest guy - (weird, for a trained terrorist) - and so has no problem giving people things like truths others might hesitate to say. He knows it's not something ll people enjoy, but at least Axel seems to appreciate it despite the fact that Duo.. well. Definitely looks like shit right about now.

He knows that he's a little worse for wear right now, but he'd been through worse and he hadn't died, so there was always that to fall back on. It's a shitty scale, to be fair, considering he's almost died multiple times in the course of the war. Almost had been suffocated to death on a military base in space because he and his gundam had been captured. How the hell Wufei had managed to stay so calm was still beyond him, but maybe that's a mystery to let his mind wander about another time.

"I ain't going in there right now." His nerves are too scattered for that. For all those people and all that noise... it'd be a damn mess. Even worse than he is right now. He says the dismissal before he even processes the offer, but.. since Axel offered.

"Yeah. I'm not picky. Get whatever floats your boat."
baguablade: (62)

[personal profile] baguablade 2018-07-05 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
Then you're not a monster. If you don't want to hurt people, if you want to keep being Diva, the person sitting in front of me, who needs my help right now...

[ He finishes with the disinfectant and pauses a moment. Carefully, he cups her chin, tilting her head up, until she's looking him in the eyes. Cain gives her a small, warm smile.

And then he goes back to bandaging her up, wrapping her arm with quick, sure movements.
]

Then you don't have to be a monster. And you can apologize. If you feel bad about it, then you can tell them that.
braidedwonder: (it's all the same)

[personal profile] braidedwonder 2018-07-05 12:45 am (UTC)(link)

The Hydrean attacked Altissia... [ Duo repeats it even though it's basically gibberish to him, but then raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders. Sure, Prompto, that sounds like at least a possibly real thing to have seen. Who the hell was he to say what had happened and what hadn't, considering they're all from such different worlds? He wasn't the guy to ask on these things. ]

See.. back in my world there's no like.. tangible way to be like "oh yeah, that guy definitely exists." [ Duo laughs lightly, shrugging his shoulders. ]

So you know.. as a street kid coming in to a Catholic orphanage when they tell ya you're blessed for this or that I just sat there thinking that there's no way a guy that giving exists and people are still such assholes.
impavid: (❖ Grew up mean)

[personal profile] impavid 2018-07-05 12:47 am (UTC)(link)
"No kidding. Come on, then."

John moves to shove the pillows around on his bed, props them up so he can sit up properly and waits for Ianto to kick off his shoes and join him -- wraps him back against his chest and lets out a tired sort of sigh. Something about Ianto's highly strung emotions is draining, for John. Maybe it's the way he feels tense, unsure what the right thing to do or say is.

"Stay as long as you want," he murmurs, since yes -- it is his bed, technically it was in fact his room first. Yet John doesn't mind, Ianto can stay if it will make him feel better.
thetaintedsorrow: (Pfff whatever)

[personal profile] thetaintedsorrow 2018-07-05 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Honestly? He’s totally expecting Mephisto to snap at him, so it’s a pleasant surprise when he gets begrudging acceptance instead. He could be fine on his own now, but he’s not gonna turn away more healing to get him back to full strength.]

I only know of the smaller rooms here, but they should work I guess.

[Chuuya remembers exactly where Atsushi had stayed the day Chuuya had first met him after waking up on the station, and Chuuya feels a little pang of guilt when he remembers little Daifuku pouncing his feet for the first time ever in that same room. He assumes the pets are fine, but still, so much has changed since that day...

First thing’s first though, time to raid the alcohol stores he conveniently remembers the location of as well for a bottle of whiskey.
]

Do you have clothes you can poof into?
Edited 2018-07-05 00:51 (UTC)
baguablade: (14)

[personal profile] baguablade 2018-07-05 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Let him have it, because Reinhardtzar trusts him to see this through. To carry them both to the end of this safely. Cain finds himself grinning, feeling almost flushed with the adrenaline rush of an oncoming battle. ]

Alright, then listen up carefully...

[ He goes up on his tiptoes, tugging at Reinhardtzar's collar to pull him down. To whisper the battle plan in Reinhardtzar's ear. For them to fight together. ]
icingonthecake: (watching)

[personal profile] icingonthecake 2018-07-05 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
He's got nothing to be apologetic about, really. Axel gets it, he's a bit awkward himself, outside of safe company. He's great at putting on a show when he doesn't actually care about the audience, but forging new bonds with new people is... hard.

"Yeah, fitting in can be kind of a challenge, especially when you don't really know most of the people around you," he says, "but I think conformity only really gets you so far, in the end." He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. "I'd rather get to know someone for who they really are, not who they think I expect them to be."
torchwoodteaboy: (bored)

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2018-07-05 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
Ianto does his best to kick his shoes off as quickly as he can so that he can fit himself back into John's arms once he's done. He doesn't miss the sigh John lets out but he hopes that he can forgive him for all of this despite how uncomfortable he has to be in the moment.

Fitting his head against John's shoulder, he wraps an arm around his waist and simply lets the other man hold him. Until he feels a little bit less like the ground is spinning out from underneath him and he's just doing his best to hold on. Until the warmth of John's arm around him and his chest underneath him ground him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing steady Ianto's own, and he starts to feel his eyelids growing heavy again. In the back of his mind, he knows that he should move. Instead he shifts a hand to fist in John's tshirt and allows himself to drift away.
cassus: 🚫Do Not Take. (Can't choose what stays & what fades awa)

[personal profile] cassus 2018-07-05 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ When did he first love Chuuya? Compared to any other lover, he alone should be able to remember that moment down to the second and whatever asinine thing he'd been up to at the time. Yet funnily enough, Dazai can't say.

For him events are simply clumps of jumbled facts. They're meant to be dissected into easily digested, bite-sized morsels. That way each can be neatly cataloged away inside the hallways of his mind. They're useful enough, as well as entertaining for a while. Little happenings amuse in the same manner that junk food and sweets satisfy others. It's pure distraction, an escape from the eternal buzz of conscious thought. But although none are forgotten, they sit on the shelf to gather dust once their preliminary use or his interest runs it's course.

But of everything Dazai knows to be true, and all that he's broken down into it's basest facts, love is one of the very few exceptions. Denial is a very real obstacle in that process. His own traumas and shortcomings left for so much compartmentalizing and avoidance of what was felt. Even outright hostility against his own affection for Chuuya ran amok in those early years, clouding his otherwise impeccable hindsight.

He'd done the same with Oda, keeping the man at arm's length over so much foolishness. It seems that the people closest to Dazai's heart were the ones he was most terrified of letting step any closer. Initially he couldn't dare permit kisses and touches and intimacies that were easier with strangers who wouldn't tear his heart out to take with them if they left his side. ( Although Chuuya became the sole exception to that too. ) It was driven by a fear of loss, or worse of gaining a deeper closeness only to have no idea of how to keep it from slipping through his fingers once he's gotten it. ]


For as long as I can remember. Somewhere between the moment we met...

[ Their first reunion in four years, tucked within the Mafia's dungeon, had been solely for the sake of seeing Chuuya. Dazai had spent every hour for days fashioning his plan of infiltration back into the Port Mafia headquarters. Other than his end goal, it had hinged entirely upon being able to run into a certain redhead. And despite all his endless denial, even in his mind it'd been a strategically pointless and logically inconvenient addition to an otherwise elementary intel mission.

After all that plotting he'd begun a mental countdown, waiting out the days for when Chuuya would return to Yokohama. Even as sworn enemies he'd been unable to escape the thought of him. Nor the want to see him. And it'd been worth every second of scheming. Chuuya had been glorious in his fury, reminded anew of the partner and perhaps the only man who could ever abandon something as magnificent as Chuuya. But good as that was, it paled in comparison to witnessing his ex-partner's reluctance to simply slit Dazai's throat. It'd been proof that there was still something nameless but echoing of attachment, alive and well between them both.

And when Dazai's greatest adversary had reared his head once more, the moment Fyodor had drawn Dazai into is inner circle for the sake of so much ruin, he'd had faith enough in only one man's strength to turn the tide and save them all. It had always been Chuuya, existing as both his greatest asset and distraction. Dazai's path eternally steered back to him, whether by his own inner schemes or an inexplicable pull.

Even as a teen who felt so little human emotion, suffering barely more than the harsh stab of a life lived without wanting to, he'd been drawn to Chuuya. Dazai is forever a moth free-falling into the wildfire which Chuuya is, praying that passion someday might devour him body and soul.

All those years ago Dazai had wanted him from the start. He'd needed to own and keep such a wild and untamable thing all for himself and no one else. The greed of it was immeasurable, even with that first taste upon meeting such a force of nature. And he'd taken Chuuya bit by bit. He'd tricked and lured him ever further into his grasp, like a spider within it's web. All it had taken were childish promises and bets on rigged games and a possessive over-protectiveness that mounted with every breath he took. It grew into threats and the eventual extermination of a group of mindless, ungrateful, braying sheep who'd never realized the very rock they'd clung to for support and protection had been a buried treasure in their midst.

And even when Dazai didn't end up having Chuuya as his possession, their fates interwove more deeply that the master and servant roles he'd dreamed up in his head. They'd been partners, first. Then partners- lovers on every level, except for that word itself. And he'd shied from that word then, till now. Dazai had been running from it for seven long years, since he'd felt the very first pangs of it time and time again since Chuuya had crash-landed into his life like a veritable fireball. ]


And forgetting how to forget you. Or how live a life where you're not factored into it.

[ Dazai loved him long before he'd realized it. The first inklings are clearer now. Because he'd known within his bones, years ago, that a failed end to Corruption's unleashing would mean two bodies bagged and buried. Even at sixteen Dazai had never intended to do anything but walk straight into hell with Chuuya at his side; partners to the bitter end. ]

Maybe I always have.

[ No matter if they spent another lifetime trying to escape that fact, they're two halves of one whole: Yin and yang. Chuuya's fearsome and fiery red is only soothed by Dazai's cold and calculating blue, which never fully knew what real heat was without Chuuya there to leave him burning with desire.

There's always been something suitably poetic to them dying together, even now when the end seems so very near. Earlier fears are renewed tenfold with the soul-piercing cry of something monstrous, the dragon no doubt, taking it's last breath and trying to drag the world down with it in the process.

When Ysverai screams Dazai feels it down past the marrow of his bones, clutching at his soul. It's as if every ounce of pain has been wrung from the places he's buried those hurts within his skin, then drank down and absorbed into a heart that shouldn't feel everything so strongly as it does.

It's pure agony.

The wake of that roar feels like his own heart's death-rattle, and Dazai's knees buckle over it, sinking them into water now waist-deep. It's stronger than the loss of Oda, than his stolen childhood, or all the guilt from almost a hundred and a half dead souls who deserve his blood in remuneration. And somehow the ache pools around one thought, one person whose loss would shred his soul to pieces. ]


...Chuuya-

[ The word is choked off, half sobbed amid a gasp of pain that runs heart-deep. And it's all that repeats within his head as the world grows dark with black tendrils coiling down from the heavens like fire-smoke in reverse.

Dazai knows this is the end. It's certain in him, amid the wash of agony lingering on like a second skin he can't be rid of. That's why Chuuya ends up cradled against his chest, pressed there as if Dazai could become his living shield. His body in full wraps around him as Chuuya's sanctuary to ride out the worst of Armageddon, safe and sound. It's an impossible feat to accomplish. Dazai knows it to be a failure before he even manages to settle his head atop Chuuya's as they kneel, their torsos half submerged within the once clear stream. It's still strangely picturesque, heavenly even, despite the carnage all around.

He's prepared for this. For death to come for them. And he wants to breathe Chuuya in one last time, to remember how the sweat on his skin and the scent of his hair linger in his mind after sex or a good fight. He needs to kiss him goodbye, to die without regrets because he has the taste of Chuuya on his lips. And if he can look into Chuuya's perfect sky-blue eyes one last time, without a shadow of doubt in Chuuya's mind that Dazai loves him, then it's been worth it to draw his breath for as long as he has.

But none of that comes. Not the kiss or even a final inhale. The tears he's yet to shed freeze along with a solemn expression etching hard lines into his face, worn to brave the grim end to so much hope built upon this second chance. Dazai's breath can't be drawn and nor can his eyes blink or heart beat. It's an unfathomable end, existing in the fractured second as a vacuum of motion settles around them with a terrifying calm before the final blow comes.

Yet neither does that finale rain down upon them. In an instant the pair are elsewhere with an explanation from Darma following on their heels. Dazai gasps his first breath, quiet and low against Chuuya's shoulder, bracing himself against the shock of this reality where they both still live. Realization dawns faster than he can respond, aware that shock is creeping into his system to numb emotions and dull reaction times. But it can't stall the heat of tears dragging hotly down his face, born around eyes shut tight enough to hurt, while the whole of him continues gripping Chuuya as he reels from it all.

The elation will have to come later, along with a relief that has yet to sink in. For now Dazai only aches, his mind still mourning a loss that's been returned too quickly for him to fully process. All he can do is clutch at his partner, and finally breathe him in, soaking up another second chance he'd never earned but welcomes like a drowning man's first breath. ]


We need to get you to the medical bay...

[ Said in a voice that feels so far away, resolute where Dazai can't even fathom that certainty right now. He's still soaking wet and holding on, but as if his own words are halfway meant to rally him into action, Dazai begins to stand and coax Chuuya upright along with him. ]
defenses: (pic#12287419)

[personal profile] defenses 2018-07-05 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ seeing her grin also put vane at ease. even amidst all the adversity people commonly faced in the middle of warfare (typically not always with a dragon, but listen...), it never hurt to have the glimmer of hope. of something a little more easygoing. while it was equally important to take these matters seriously, it was also crucial to leave oneself open and flexible. to not forget that their comrades were beside them.

right now this altean princess, allura was just that. a fact that he takes pride in. he puffs up at his name being used so straightforwardly. his eyes focused on her as she speaks.
] Mm. Sounds good! [ plus, there's another reason he can have unwavering faith in her words. they said great minds think alike and— ] Lancey always said planning your movements was important in times like these.

[ he flexes a little, as if to say "you can count on me. ] So first steps first, right? We'll need to get his attention.
cassus: (Looking for a breath of life)

[personal profile] cassus 2018-07-05 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ All his bindings end up upon the floor, long forgotten in lieu of Linneus' hands. They're warm, attentive and so very present upon sensitive skin which rarely endures the sensation of contact. It's hard to restrain himself from suffering a shiver or hitch of shoulders when he's touched, but Dazai endures the whole of it without too much loss of decorum.

At least his breaths are even, not rushed or left to pour out at the sudden over stimulation. Because he feels too much all at once- vulnerable and open in ways that next to never happen. The knot of his brows, fixed with concentration as opposed to anger, says as much.

His body is a work of art, scarred throat to torso in a constellation of wounds. It conveys a story of violence eternally inscribed upon him by gutting knives and gunfire alike. Few places span more than several inches where the territory remains unmarred. More often than not the marks themselves interweave as if patterns in some strange language carved into living flesh instead of stone.

Some are small in their size, taking up scarcely any little room, though their impression likely ran towards greater depths than widths in their assault upon his flesh. ( Bullets tend to do so. ) Meanwhile others expand out across his body, the scar tissue mirroring gruesome flowers whose blooms remain marks forever fixed upon Dazai's body. ]


How's that? [ A steadying breath lifts his chest beneath Linn's hands. ] Better?
inaurare: (Close)

[personal profile] inaurare 2018-07-05 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
Better.

[softly murmured, chasing the last of the wrappings off with his hands. He doesn't understand all of the marks - how, with what many of them were made; never came across guns before in his own world. There are so many of them, though, and his brow pinches into a frown for a moment not at the sight of them, but the extent coupled with knowledge they are all leftover reminders of things endured, things inflicted on Dazai.]

You're here.

[His words don't feel enough in this moment, but he is. After all of it - the events of the previous days, the past so intricately mapped across Dazai's own body... Dazai was still there.

One hand reaches up, slides into the man’s hair and brings him closer, secures a touch of foreheads and keeps it close with an arm around the man's waist]


…we’ll talk. In the morning when… [when he’s rested? When he’s better? He isn’t entirely sure of either of those things, or if it will even be morning, the next he wakes] …we’ll breakfast, and-- we’ll talk, maybe.

[They don't have to. Perhaps the morning might be no better, perhaps his words would still feel so little then, but it feels important to at least say. He won't go anywhere. They will still be here in the morning.]
cassus: (pic#12297272)

[personal profile] cassus 2018-07-05 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
I'm here.

[ Dazai allows himself to be drawn in close, nearer than people tend to be permitted to corral him. But this is Linneus, and the press of their foreheads isn't something forced by a commanding hand. If anything it gives and gives, supplying comfort in the way a drowning man is only kept afloat by the blessing of something selflessly willing to carry his weight.

Leaving their inevitable discussion for later seems to lift an unseen weight. It absolves him of solving anything on a night where he can barely find any words let alone feel anything positive stir in their wake. And it's that assurance which leaves him sighing, letting out his tension in a single breath as eyes shut against the feeling of relief. ]


Tomorrow, then...

[ Better still when he remembers that it quite nearly may have never come, had circumstances been different after the dragon's awakening. ]

That sounds like a better idea.

[ Not just good but better, more so than anything said or done which might try to force a faux resolution tonight. Linneus is wiser than him at times, certainly on matters of a human heart which needs time to heal no matter the illogical impracticality of leaving everything unsaid. Efficient as his mind his, with wants to push past his current state, there's no mending it's wounds with brute force. Only time and much needed rest can sow the seeds to recovery. ]

But for now, I think lying down would be the very best idea of all.

[ That will require that he finishes changing, but even so he loiters in Linn's hold for as long as he can. And in the place of keeping hands busy with either dismissing the rest of his attire all together or replacing it with new, his fingers card slowly through Linn's hair. ]
inaurare: (Held)

[personal profile] inaurare 2018-07-05 08:14 am (UTC)(link)
[the way he relaxes is reassuring - the lightness, somehow, in Dazai’s weight against him. Linneus won’t judge, and won’t lay him down with meaningless platitudes. Wouldn’t, even if he had it in him to do so. They can talk about this later, or they can not. It seems so often they talk about everything else, but if there are topics they can’t manage... that’s all right, too.

Right now, simple is better. There is time for the rest - there is time.]


Clothes, then.

[Dazai still is not dressed for bed - they can at least do that. Not that Linneus is exactly dressed himself, with the hem of his shirt pooling about his mid-thighs - but it’s large; he can pass it off as a nightshirt. Perhaps not so much on Dazai but he frees up a hand to reach for the clothing set, a little tilt of his head once it’s pulled closer. Let him return the favour?]
panzersoldat: (19)

[personal profile] panzersoldat 2018-07-05 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
No. It's not fair. War never is. [ He sees himself, 30 years younger, begging to stay and making the stand with Balderich. Balderich had told him to go. Go and live. Now, this boy was telling him to stay. Stay...and live. A large hand is lightly set upon Waver's head. His gauntlet crumbles away leaving just dust on dark hair and his bare hand. ] You have a good heart, boy. I commend you for that. But you must know that it is the duty and the honor of any true knight, to be willing to lay down your life for others.

I don't want to accept it. I don't want to be up here knowing that I could have done more. I could have saved more people if only I was allowed to stay. If I cannot go back now...I will just go back later. This is inevitable, Waver. I have my quest. But for now...I guess I can stay here. I will stay and I will train and I will become stronger. So that when I do go back, I can save even more people.
revlon: (302)

[personal profile] revlon 2018-07-05 03:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes. And now there are at least two instances of something — or someone — being powerful enough to do just that.

[ She eases back against her seat, slow because she aches everywhere — but also because she's thinking. After a stretch of silence, she ventures: ]

They're meant to have rescued us from the Storm, which sounds as though they aren't capable of fighting it off themselves. If they were, our worlds would have been spared. [ She flicks her gaze up to Jim as if to say, Right? He's expressed his thoughts on the Storm in the past. That, coupled with the nature of time, could mean anything now. ] Which makes me wonder how long this one has got. And if the technology in Nadril is powerful enough to interfere with the Natha, then do they want us to travel there to see if that can take on the Storm? And are they playing with time to buy us more of it?
baldesion: (good luck)

[personal profile] baldesion 2018-07-05 03:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Alisaie likely knows what she's talking about. How long will it stay "tethered"? If we escape but leave it here to burst its fetters, it might only hurt someone else, or worse.

[Krile is aware that to many species of ferocious creature in Hydaelyn she looked like a good meal. Here, too, apparently. But to leave others to the same fate?]