❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

[natha]

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. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[impavid]

John nods solemnly. Yes, Ianto, red-eyed cows. In the sky.

"I'm glad you're paying attention. There'll be a quiz at the end."

About the cows and cowboys. 'What were the red-eyed cows a-plowing through?'. His lips twitch in a small smile before he forces his expression back into a frown, into serious cowboy song mode.

"Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel," he continues. "Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel! A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky, for he saw the riders coming hard... and he heard their mournful cry."

I hope you're ready for this Ianto.

"Yippie yi oohhhh, yippie yi ayyyy. Ghost riders in the sky!"

Please at least smile, he's clowning as hard as he can for you in the circumstances.

[willrevile]

I'll make you a casserole someday, [ Jim says. Is.. that.. a promise, or a threat. Hard to say. It doesn't sound ominous, unless you know what a casserole is, and that Jim's from the American midwest. Maybe he'll put hot cheeto ice cream on it. ] Won't taste anything like feet.

[ Just ranch dressing and cheese. ]

[impavid]

"No kidding. I was hoping it was a sign there was still some ritual element to interrupt but the longer it goes on, the more it seems like a 'wait seven working days for your dragon to appear' kind of deal."

Which is not at all comforting. He glances around uneasily, trying to pull himself back together and think of some kind of... up side. Okay, John, proper plans.

"The one good thing is this gives us more evacuation and planning time. I'm pretty sure it's a good bet that if this thing does appear, it'll be around the the shrine or... I think Murkwell hollow is where the thing died? Up near the south outpost. That might be a solid bet, a rising from the grave kind of situation."

Since it is a zombie dragon, after all. That would make sense in a B-movie kind of fashion.

[impavid]

"Only way to find out is to try, and I am willing to try pretty much anything at this point if it might help."

He fires a few more shots over the edge, scanning the area and beginning to circle the roof again.

"So line it up and fire it, before they figure out there's only one of me and swarm us!"

Because he cannot be both sides of the roof at once, and eventually this is going to become a problem. He's hoping to get off the roof before this problem is realised.

[devilcalling]

Well, that's two things we've got in common.

[ And one point of pride that probably shouldn't be a point of pride, but what's shame? Is it edible? Is it something that can be traded for more booze? Or her ship? Her ship would be nice. That'd be a step toward properly handling any future zombie dragons as far as she's concerned. ]

Something tells me he won't be accepting the bill for the damages.

[ Yes, she means the dragon. ]

Can't say this is how I wanted to test the cafeteria's stock, though. You're sure it's burned down?

[ Not that they can hit it for drinks right now, but if the whole planet is dry... ]

[willrevile]

The miracle of medical resurrection - if that's what it actually is, and not some kind of extension of stasis they just aren't capable of detecting - here on the station unsettles Jim, and he doesn't expect Ianto to be wholly comforted by it. Especially now, with the state of Ysverai, such an immediate, horrific illustration of why dead things should stay dead. And so, talk of people giving their lives sounds just as significant as it would be without the postmortem fix.

(No one goes through it and is fine, even if it's fine. Jim knows.)

"We don't know yet." Jim doesn't shrug, it's not that simple, but there's still something determined in his tone despite the exhaustion. "Trying doesn't always pay off. Working, doing the right things, pushing to absolute extremes. Sometimes things just fall apart. And we find yourselves in a position where we have to decide if we're going to call it failure or if we're going to call what we do tomorrow Take Two."

Now, Jim does shrug. "You've asked me before about optimism. That kind of stubbornness is easy. This, getting up the day after, is the rough part."

[inaurare]

[He shakes his head - at the apology, not the comparison. Scars in others had always held a certain fascination - scars and tattoos. The one told tales of a life lived and an injury overcome; the other a story inked into the skin through the bearer's choice. Gilder had had so many of both he couldn't help but trace them out, fingertips light, cautious but curious over healed and dyed skin, because they were not for him. What fascinated Linneus in others terrified him for himself, but out of practicality, rather than vanity. The brand on the sole of his foot had been enough - any other small scar, or even an imperfection, could put a massive dent in his value, and his value meant everything in the life Linneus had come from.

The injuries he had sustained three months ago had terrified him for that reason. As much as he had come to learn, his mind still returned to Ivore, to the thought that such injuries were not only going to physically scar him forever, but render him worthless in the eyes of others - he would never be looked at the same way again; and the possibility of being valued or treasured was growing all the more distant.

Who would want him in the first place, with his history? Who would want him now that he was scarred?

Such thoughts near consumed him in his captivity, amplifying his fear and his worry and his pain, and even when he was told he could be healed... of course he was afraid to believe, and painfully aware that even if possible, letting his body heal faster than his mind might be awful for him. So it was slow; necessarily so, for his own sake, starting with what was visible and working through.

It was hard to look in the mirror for a long time; but Linneus had had that before, and while it was slow, it was getting better. He was mending; or at least he had been, though at the moment he feels stretched taut and brittle, some how. There's a shaky breath at the hand in his hair and he lets his head roll forward, leaning it against Dazai's shoulder.]

[willrevile]

I'm just hoping whoever we're going to go speak to is annoyed enough by the Natha's behavior not to act like them, [ is veering towards sass. ] Which we should absolutely point out if we hit another vague bullshit wall.

[ Diplomacy in action: quit bein' a dick. ]

Did yours bail, or is it just somewhere on the planet? I recently obtained one and he - [ Jim gestures, illustrating something sailing away ] fucked right off as soon as all that hit. Hopefully it didn't get eaten by one of the dragons in the Fields.

[idealisme]

[The cane goes completely unnoticed as Enjolras focuses on the man.] And you, monsieur. I and the others from Paris are all well also. [And that is something to be thankful for, isn't it? They might all be-]

Have you met them? I mean Jehan Prouvaire and the drunkard Grantaire. They were both present at the uprising as well.

hello hello!

[willrevile]

[ Jim's had more graceful entrances, it's true, and-- ]

Yeah, I think my ass was the only unbruised part of me, too. Terrible.

[ No, not the time for jokes, but he manages anyway, despite sounding just as bad as he looks. Jim forces a weak smile, recognizing her from the coalition lookout. (MAYBE... u decide.) ]

You okay?

[veneries]

[Ramsay has only a split second to react, if he wants this to seem genuine.]

Just a-- creature? [He looks almost offended.] Is that what he told you? When he broke your teeth and took your fingers?

[They've close now, close enough for Ramsay to put a hand to Theon's shoulders. There's no need for the knife right now.

He hasn't got a dungeon here. This place is crawling with people, and the chance to get Reek away from them all even for a week (when what he needs is a fucking month or two) won't come up. No, he'll have to save that pleasure for another time.]

Reek- no man is nothing. Not even you.

[devilcalling]

[ She might!!

Or not, not that any cocktail of reason and sense has never been her favorite drink, but this stranger's delivery makes it a little more palpatable, nevermind that spindly prickle of vanity in appeal. She's no princess, but that doesn't mean she doesn't take her personal hygiene seriously and she knows he's right about -- well, two of three things, at least, but -- ]

I'm fine! Really! And anyway, there are ways to fix that sort of thing. [ A beat. ] I think.

[ She thinks. ]

[fisherwife]

[Mipha smiles softly at Mephisto, her heart feeling full with adoration and love for the demon. It's worrying that Mephisto doesn't seem to have any faith in his own abilities here against this thing, but touching that he's worrying about her. That's cute.

The dragon? Not so much. Mipha steels her jaw in determination. She doesn't have to touch the dragon, but she still has to get close, testing the limits of her range. It involves a lot more ducking around than she'd like, but the healing does seem to be having an adverse effect, at least, slowing his own healing down.

She winces when the dragon thrashes, moving quickly to avoid getting smacked with a wing or hit with blood. It's long and rather tedious work, but Mipha doesn't seem about to quit any time soon, expression set in stubborn determination. Honestly it's a good thing that it's up to Mephisto, because it's clear Mipha would probably sacrifice herself for the greater good here]

[fisherwife]

[Mipha sighs softly, part resignation and part fond exasperation, and shakes her head. But, she won't push for it--Urbosa's a big girl, she can handle herself! And would likely just get annoyed if Mipha kept trying to push it.]

Alright, I'll let you handle it yourself. But I'm here to help, you know. [She glances away and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.] ...At least we're all safe, I suppose... [Even if she's disappointed too that they couldn't do more]

[diamondize]

[Diamond's not sure what's going on here, but they nod in acceptance anyhow. Alright, forgetting it!!]

I'm alright. It's been a bit, hmm, harrowing? But I'm doing alright! My powder's been eaten away at, but I'm sure I can find something to replace it sooner or later...

[They shake their head with a sheepish little smile and shrug, as if to say 'oh well! What can you do?'] This is all rather exciting though, isn't it?

[diamondize]

[Diamond laughs and waves a hand as if to wave away his apologies.] Oh no, it's alright! I know I'm a bit strange compared to humans here, so I don't mind.

[They're different, after all, and Dia really doesn't mind that being pointed out. It's nice to have something that sets them apart from everyone else, that makes them stand out.

It's the praise that seems to surprise them most of all though, eyes going wide and-- blushing? Somehow?? (Don't ask).] Amazing? I don't know about that... It's just, my arm broke at enough of an angle to be very sharp. So if I can't use my sword, I can at least use my arm.

In a fight, you have to be able to use anything to your advantage, you know?

[torchwoodteaboy]

It helps that John is obviously having a hard time keeping a straight face, for all his efforts otherwise. It helps also that yes, John is obviously hamming it up. Ianto's eyebrows shoot up again at the chorus and yes, that's definitely the twitch of a smile that John's rewarded in return. He doesn't miss that this is probably for his benefit, and feels a little ridiculous for needing to be coddled so, but he appreciates the gesture either way.

He waits until John's settled down from the chorus into another vamp on the guitar before he comments, "Flying flaming cows." What kind of a song is this that you're playing for him, John? For that matter, how mournful is 'Yippie yi oh' supposed to sound anyway?

[revlon]

Oh, I quite agree. I have no patience for games, not after everything that's happened.

[ She's threatened to stab a man in the artery with a fork for less. She's a saint up until she isn't. But no one need know that. ]

Mine ran off with the rest, [ she answers next, sighing into her cup of tea. ] I've had her for some time now so I hope she's all right. But Mab's a clever girl, I've every confidence that as soon as things are put to rights, she'll find her way back home. And — [ A shrug. ] I'm not opposed to making it to Nadril on foot, I'm no stranger to a bit of a hike especially after the way my group landed. It's what lives out in the wilds that concern me.

[impavid]

"Yes," John says, "they're a real concern. I'm pretty sure you'd be alarmed if you saw flying, flaming cows Ianto."

Along with ghostly riders, it's not really a vision for the faint of heart. He vamps a little longer before stopping and letting the notes fade out, resting a hand on the strings to still them after a moment.

"Not a fan of songs about cows?"

It's a niche genre, he'll admit.

[poolhall_killer]

[Venom has to take several minutes to ride out the feelings of emotional pain and despair those roars are bringing out in him. In all his years of living with sorrow and brushing it off, he's never felt anything so hopeless. He tries to focus on the Sanctuary and why he's here.

He re-focuses and keeps searching, managing to find some jugs of clean water stored away near the kitchen. That should do for a first sweep, so he returns to Linneus with his findings.]

My apologies if I kept you waiting.

[gekkajuu]

Chuuya-san!

[Repeating Chuuya's name in an attempt to either get a reply or simply snap him out of it, Atsushi tries not to panic as those markings appear. Is that due to the dragon's blood, too? Is it something else entirely? It can't have anything to do with what Chuuya told him about his ability, surely?!

Whatever the reason for Chuuya losing it, there's only one thing Atsushi can do: he grabs Chuuya by the wrist and tries to pull that hand away from his arm. Maybe Atsushi can't tell what's going on, exactly, but he can at least stop Chuuya from hurting himself.]

[poolhall_killer]

[Its cries continue to shake Venom hard as he tries to shrug off the increasing feelings of despair. He has to stay strong for Anders and protect him.

He blinks as he sees his friend's magic work, the healing spells somehow hurting the dragon.]

It's working...

[He readies his cue for any kind of counterattack.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

No. Which is why I need to be with them. If not me, then Jamie.

[He's a little more formidable than Claire but nowhere near as deeply bonded to the two.]

If Ramsay feels the need to take another knife to me [what was that? Oops.] he's more than welcome to in this crowded station. I'd like to see who goes for his neck first.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto flicks another half-smile at the other man's question, before offering him a shrug. He hadn't meant to make him stop with his questions, and feels a little guilty if that's the case. The slow and easy sound of the guitar and John's antics -- well, John being John, really -- were doing the trick to slowly ease the bands around Ianto's chest and he can breathe easy for the first time in days, nearly.

"I can't say I've heard all that many to compare," he replies. "Life just isn't as exciting in Wales, apparently." You know. No flaming cows in the sky, or anything like that. Though he does know an old folk song about counting goats. Again. Life just really isn't all that exciting.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto takes in another deep breath -- he seems to be doing a lot of that here -- letting it out slowly as he tries to gather his thoughts. He's doing his best not to fall apart on Jim. He has a feeling that it won't all hit him until later anyway. Traumatic incidents have a way of doing that. Sinking in through the cracks, needing time to settle under the skin before he really understands the magnitude of everything that's just happened. The day after, as Jim said, is the rough part. And it's only just begun.

"It's easier to put on a brave face not knowing what it is you're getting yourself into," he agrees. Ianto distantly realizes he's been clutching at Jim's hand this whole time and squeezes it gently, not quite ready to let go but in recognition of the other man's being there for him. He doesn't have to be, after all. He's sure Jim has his own priorities to take care of. Other people to see to, himself included. He's grateful though, for the time he's allowed for Ianto himself.

"I don't know. The Natha said to leave the dragon to them, but. With this new mission they've given us..." Ianto doesn't know what to think. He's never really trusted them and certainly now that they hold the balance of -- well, everything in their hands. It all just seems so precarious. "And they still haven't said where they were, to suddenly return just now to miraculously save us all." He shakes his head. "It just. It all feels too convenient, I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe I'm just not thinking straight."