❪ 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

[willrevile]

[ Jim's as patched up as he's going to get, torn between wandering in a kind of aimless fog and trying to get his nails under a second (third, fourth?) wind to kick himself into ... something. He's not sure, but he's certain he could find a task.

Until Dutch appears and takes his arm, and he thinks: alright, well, a task has found me. Good enough.

He goes with her, and a soon as his brain realizes what she's angling for, it rapidly begins to go into shut-down mode. How many 24 hour cycles has it been since he even sat down, much less got any rest? Enough that it doesn't warrant remembering. He sits down on the bunk and keeps hold of her arm, tugging her - gently, because they're both beat to shit - with him. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[It would be frustrating, but Chuuya would rather Kaden not be hurt or covered in gross dragon blood, so it’s fine. Maybe Chuuya had wanted to be alone, but only because he didn’t want anyone freaking out on him. Kaden isn’t freaking out, but his observation does make Chuuya huff in indignation.]

I figured.

[He hasn’t even looked in a mirror yet...]

I can’t believe the world is fucked.

Mantis | MCU | ota

[uglybug]

the day before
[Mantis has had moments all day where she suddenly feels as if the entire world is crying out is panic and sorrow and fear and rage. It hits her so suddenly and completely that, when the waves of panicgriefragerageRAGE rolls over her, she can do nothing but force herself to breathe through it. It's so pervading that she sends out a text to anyone who might be listening:]

I think something might be coming soon.

i.the dragon's shadow
[She looks to the sky before all hell breaks loose. Her breath catches -- then the dragon's shadow passes over her, followed by a roar that paralyzes her.

Mantis is standing too still when the city erupts into panic around her. It isn't until someone - whether by design or accident - wildly swings what looks like the handle of a shovel, of all things, at her that she finally finds it in herself to move. Even so, it's enough of a blow across her cheek to send her reeling.

It saves her life; she stumbles out of the way of one of Wyver's small dragons diving into the fray. She falls, her arm folding underneath her awkwardly. Frenzied wingbeats and horrified screams follow her to the awning she scrambles toward. The refugees and citizens braver than her run towards the beast.]

No. [It's barely word, lost in the chaos. She reaches for the nearest person, panic giving her voice a brittle strength.] Don't go near it.

ii.rage
[She follows those who can fight to give them the support that they need. Perhaps it's a vain attempt, bolstered only by her arrogant insistence that she, as a Hero of Wyver, should be able to do something.

(She's taken that title to heart, held it in a small precious corner of her mind, and she wants so desperately to live up to it, to prove that she's capable and worthy of the title. This fear-rage-grief that has swallowed all of her courage is taking that from her, too. She doesn't want to let it.)

Apparently, though, the only thing a Hero of Wyver can do is get in the damned way. She cannot give anyone the peace they need, though she tries for those still evacuating or those injured. A touch here and there, a small beat of reassurance, is all she can muster; Mantis herself is drowning in the dragon's breaking heart and fiery rage.

It hurts even before the touch of toxic smog sends her scuttling for cover. Physically and mentally spent, the last moments of the battle are nothing but wave after wave of terror and anger falling upon her until she can no longer even stand.

... Someone please keep her from getting skewered.]

iii.thesa's rest
[She arrives on the Station and falls into a corner, wanting only to put her back against something solid. Hands over her face and shoulders hunched, silent shudders run the length of her spine. It feels like the dragon's mental onslaught has taken her mind and frayed it and she is desperate to put it back together.

She is bruised - visibly so - and covered in dirt and blood. A fall early in the attack sprained her wrist and, judging by the way her index and middle fingers on that hand are swollen, injured her hand. (She wants to wring her hands together so badly in this moment.) The smog has burned her arms, the side of her neck, crawling up her throat to just touch at her jaw.

It's still there in the back of her mind: Ysverai's great anger and pain occupies a space that isn't quite remembered torment. He's still there, hovering and still and waiting, but muted. Held at bay.

Mantis takes a deep breath.

Make yourself useful. (It's Ego's voice. It's always Ego's voice.)

Takes another breath. Then another. She will not cry. She will pull herself together and Be Useful. She isn't sure that she can find it in herself to lend anyone a little strength, having so little of her own to spare -- and that almost sends her into despair.

One more deep breath and she's trying to pull herself to her feet. The nearest somewhat-able-bodied person finds themselves fielding her question:] How can I help?

[willrevile]

[ Her tangible form under his hand and her smile assure him that she's real, that she's okay - as okay as he is, anyway. (So: pretty fucking okay. People like them have to be.) Jim gives her a bracing, but carefully gentle, squeeze to the shoulder before letting go. ]

Miss Carter. [ Wouldn't it be nice if he greeted her as Agent, hmmm?? Anyway, he lets himself return her smile, tired, but sincerely warm. ] Probably. But imagine if it had been raining.

[ How much worse would that have been, man. ]

Re: sansa stark ❄ got ❄ ota

[doomedtheworld]

[The screams are horrifying to everyone who hears them. To Vin they drag up those feelings of helplessness and fear. Being at the mercy of somebody so much bigger and stronger than herself. But it isn't quite enough to bring her down. She's spent her life with it, and learned long ago to force her way through it. To do what she needs to survive.

But not everybody is that conditioned. As she soars above the chaos on the streets she catches sight of the girl on the ground down below and from above there's another roar and Vin winces. Burning iron, she Pulls downward, shooting down and skidding to a halt. Throwing a coin ahead of her, she grabs hold of Sansa and Pushes off the piece of silver sending both of them up and back into the air just as as cloud of black smog rolls from the dragon's mouth right over where they'd been a moment ago.]

Hold on!

[willrevile]

"Captain," he corrects, in a strained voice. "No need for undue flattery, my ego's cool."

When in doubt, deflect anything that might be of emotional significance. But he's gritting that out like choking down anger, and he raises his left hand to look at it, and the several broken fingers.

Ow. Jim exhales, winces because of how much his throat hurts, and looks up at Ianto. His nearly-neon blue eyes are ringed in bruises and cuts, blood and burns painting him. He forces a lopsided smile that doesn't reach them.

"I hope you popped the spell on that ring, man."

He has to be in severe pain, given the state of him, but apparently he's used to it enough to manage.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Not dead yet, John says, but it doesn't help him feel any better. He's not acting like a man who assumes he'll come back from this confrontation, and Ianto's seen the dragon's fire. He's seen its fury. And he's seeing how the other man is starting to fade. They've been at this for days now, and if John would only listen.

But Ianto doesn’t quite know how else to get through to him, and the other man’s sudden insistence that it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be only feels as though it’s cheapening his best attempts otherwise.

“Run away and leave you to face that thing alone? Not a chance,” Ianto says, and he means every word of it. Fingers still fastened into the other man’s best because damn it if this is what it takes to keep his attention then so be it. “If you’re staying then fine. So am I.”

[adelphoi]

[ she's able to pick up what he's saying easily enough thanks to the pact, though she's never operated anything so large before - still, the concept is simple enough. she doesn't get the chance to find whether or not she is any good at this harpoon thing though, when the cries of frenzied dragons fill the air.

it gives her no pleasure to fight these creatures, once loyal friends now driven mad. she has made every effort to only hobble them when they can, but when it is kill or be killed, she does what she must. hair-triggered and ready for battle at any moment, alisaie whirls before he has even finished his sentence, drawing her rapier and focus and leveling her blade toward the nearest approaching dragon. ]

Keep behind me.

[ a shame she left her grimoire behind, topaz carbuncle would be quite useful right about now, but surely she can keep them busy enough on her own. ]

[sweetwater]

[ Cheryl doesn't like to linger on dying. not after losing her brother and especially not since nearly losing herself in the same river. not that it hasn't crossed her mind, what with the not-so-friendly dragon making it's appearance. it seems terribly unfair that she would come so far to die here. ]

Okay. [ she nods. packing a bag is simple now. there's no mansion full of trinkets and clothing, just the few things she's acquired in her new life. she gathers the essentials and adds a hardbound journal, one of Peter's sweaters, and the small stuffed bear he gave her for Christmas. yes, Cheryl is a sap.

It's only as she's making a last pass of the apartment that she thinks to ask:]

When you said don't it go, what did you mean? What do you think is going to happen?

[punshots]

[ Prompto is ever a tactile person, both in giving and receiving, and where otherwise he may have tried to refuse her offer again, her touch gives him pause. Company, huh? No one should be alone right now. He just can't help but think there's someone more qualified to provide it than him.

But after a moment, he relents, a weary sigh bringing a ghost of a smile to his lips. ]

You sure? Gotta warn you, I'm...not sure I'll make great company right now.

[punshots]

[ Her tone doesn't brook an argument, and really, he's too exhausted to offer one up. Still, his gaze darts back into the room a moment, where Alisaie is napping on the bed, and rest is something neither of them have achieved much of this week. Better to let her sleep on. She won't even miss him.

Hah.

So after a moment's hesitation, Prompto slips out the door to walk at Rosalind's side. He doesn't offer anything up, because...he doesn't know what to say. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[A ghost of a smile is more than most can muster now.]

Positive. You're better company than someone snoring, I think.

[He hasn't shrugged off her touch or otherwise pulled away, so she gives him a little pull to stand beside her so they can walk together.]

And maybe seeing some food might change your mind about not being hungry.

[revlon]

[ She doesn't hug, but this is the closest she gets to it. ]

Rain would have been an improvement on the fire and brimstone.

[ It's said with a huff of breath in lieu of a laugh; she's still too tired for much good humour, but it's a little easier to muster with him. Peggy still has a hold of his arm even though he's let go of her and she holds it out to survey the rest of him, as if she can make heads or tails of what's happening beneath his clothing. ]

Are you well?

[ First thing's first. On Peggy's part, she's as battered and bruised as anyone else, the worst of it covered up with a light touch of makeup (but she isn't her usual brand of perfectly put together). Breathing at all rather hurts, but at least it's the crisp oxygen on Thesa and not the noxious fumes below. ]

[punshots]

[ She asks, like she doesn't know, like it isn't obvious, plain for everyone around him to he. He carries on like he's happy, like he's carefree and happy, like his heart isn't full of little holes, like he isn't cracked and broken on the inside. Why isn't her love enough to fix him? Why is he still like this? Why has he continued to fool himself for this long? ]

I think you know.

[ She's tried. They've both tried, but it hasn't worked. He can't become better, so she needs to stay away, she needs to get away.

His expression twists, brows drawn tight in anguish, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he lets go of her hand in order to comb his fingers through his hair instead, like he's trying to push something out of his own head. But he can't fight it, it's in too deep now, but at least his anger lashes inward, at first. ]

Go away! Just—go!

[adelphoi]

[ it seems a reasonable enough request, and alisaie is far too exhausted to argue it. mayhaps she is being childish and obnoxious, but alisaie has never dealt particularly well with people, her own emotions, or grief, all of which assault her now; she has no idea how to even begin to recover from a loss such as this. the death of her grandsire had been devastating, taken her years to overcome, and while she has lost many others between then and now none have hit her so hard as louisoix's passing - until now, of course.

it is a mercy perhaps that her inconsolable rage has died out and a numbness has instead set in, and while it cannot anesthetize her pain entirely, it makes it.. somewhat bearable. bearable enough at least that she complies, unfolding herself from where she had curled to slowly sit up. she's wild and disheveled and dirty but that is just about the last thing on her mind at the moment - she focuses instead on one task at a time, never looking beyond it. snagging the hem of her rumpled dress, alisaie gingerly tugs it up and over her head and tosses it aside with all the rest. ]

[punshots]

[ They haven't seen much battle together before Ysverai's attack, but they have learned quickly how to fight at one another's side, how to best augment each other's strengths and weaknesses. Alisaie takes the front lines while Prompto plays his range, and that's how they've made it through this alive so far. It works, and so he nods in response to her command, calling a rifle he'd picked up into his hands in a flash of light. ]

I'll take out their wings.

[ If they can't fly, they're much less formidable, but they are coming in quick, and Prompto only has time to fire a few shots through the first dragon's wings before they are too close for him to get in a good shot. ]

[reek]

[ There’s so little to ground him right now. He’ll sort it out soon enough, but the world is just too much. He wants to escape it, and this is one way he can: by not being Theon at all. ]

Reek.

[ He mumbles it quietly, that name he had been so insistent he would never say out loud again. This is a different situation, and he almost doesn’t care what becomes of his mind or his sanity anymore. ]

It rhymes with freak.

out of time!!

[diplomatie]

[ Alphinaud certainly did his fair share of work during the fighting, both working to fight off the dragon as well as working to heal those around him. He's not super used to being on the front lines, though, so the effort has certainly taken a toll on his body. So it's no wonder that he'd end the fight with a fair many wounds and exhaustion to rival anyone else's, all being evident from one glance at him.

So it's not long into their time on the station that he falls to his knees, his hands moving to try and heal himself as best he can. His exhaustion is certainly making that a struggle though. So ... thank the gods for Krile, when she arrives. ]

Krile ...

[ He's pretty reluctant to take her help, though, upon seeing the state she's in ...... But he's also glad to see she's alive at all. ]

[meinwaifu]

[Mephisto doesn't see what's going on above, but feels he doesn't have to -- he trusts in Chuuya's skill and ability to survive. Likewise, Mephisto manages to avoid the flames, finding a safe spot to stop and let Chuuya catch up--]

[But when he sees what's become of his shoes and legs, he realizes right away that Mephisto himself was the one who messed up. He won't let it show on his face, but he knows those injuries are more dire than they look -- if that rot spreads, it could be fatal. He needs to heal him now.]

...I should have told you not to step on it. That was my mistake.

[He thinks for a moment or two... and then with very little fanfare, reaches down to pick Chuuya up and throw him over his shoulder, bag of potatoes style. Which is entirely intentional, since it keeps him from getting a good look at Mephisto's face under the mask.]

You can't fight with those legs. We need to retreat and regroup, and hope someone else will come before it reaches Olympia... can you make us lighter?

[Cause they're about to literally run for it here.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Will I ever not be a freak?

Claire feels her stomach churn, and she swallows what threatens to bubble out after everything else that's burned its way through her throat lately. For all the terror and pain the dragon somehow infected them with, this hurts just as much.]

And do you know who I am? Do you know how we know one another? Who you are to me?

[maipokerface]

At that, Mai can't help but give a somewhat cocky grin.

"Well, they never expect a knife. It's pretty easy to get the jump on them."

If she noticed John scrambling, she's at least decent enough not to say anything about it. Yet anyhow.

[adelphoi]

[ of course she will not go, and in his heart, prompto surely must know that. something is very wrong, and the last thing she will do is abandon him to.. whatever it is that's taken hold. could it be the blood..? she's seen already the effects of ysverai's ichor spilled down upon the ground, how it corrodes and corrupts, and while prompto certainly does not seem to be melting away physically, perhaps.. ]

Prompto -

[ she breathes his name with both firmness and concern, and she's quick to lift her hands to his wrists, tugging them away from his face. ]

Look at me - tell me what's wrong.

[meinwaifu]

[There's a punchline here, and that's that the gas mask-wearing man in black has been tangentially within the same area as Mipha since she entered the battlefield. But see, at some point point, the hair curl on his head got burned off. Which he just hasn't noticed. And that's basically the only way to identify him without looking especially close. As such, Mipha's confusion quickly turns into his own.]

...who else would I be? Surely you didn't think I would let you face a dragon without me!

iii!!!

[diplomatie]

[ After having healed himself (and received some help in doing so) a proper amount, Alphinaud's out and about checking on the people and looking for those dear to him. A lot has happened, and a lot of people are here stuck on the station now, so it's no wonder that it's a bit difficult to locate his friends through the sea of injured.

But he'd recognize that blonde tuft of hair anywhere, moving through a hallway, and he's quick to stumble after him. ]

Prompto!

[ Placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. ]

Thank the Twelve ...

[ That he's here. It means he's alive, and all. That he made it through what happened. ]

[adelphoi]

[ it's a bit of a family trait, and honestly, alisaie has no place faulting alphinaud for his recklessness when it is more often the reverse, but nevertheless it stills her heart with fear to see that wall coming down so close to him, and she acts instantly, thoughtlessly, diving hard and fast. a few bumps and scrapes are far preferable to being crushed to death.

the dust stings her eyes, and alisaie coughs against his collar but she's soon righting herself enough to look down at him, to study his face - he looks winded and confused, but thank the gods, alive and well.

exhaling hard, she swallows around a dry throat. ]

Are you all right?