❪ 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

[punshots]

[ He opens his mouth to gently let he down, but he can't quite muster the words for it. Prompto isn't the sort to turn down an invitation from anyone, at any time, desperate as he's always been to be with others, to be included. But this...this is different, isn't it? He won't be much for company right now, certainly.

Still, he can't bring himself to say no. Maybe it's a flaw, or maybe he's just letting himself be selfish for once. ]

...Yeah. I-I'd like that.

[ But sheepishly, he has to add: ]

Not sure I'll make great company right now, just, uh...just a heads up.

[baldesion]

[For a second or two, she wants to laugh. Great company? The very thought is absurd, though not for the reason Prompto might expect.]

I'll be as good, if not worse. I don't intend to deliver a report on your companionship to anyone after the fact.

[For now.

Maybe when he's feeling a bit better.

Most of all he looks like he should not be alone or left to his own devices. That, Krile can do something about. Just one thing first.]

I'm only going to ask once, Prompto. Will you talk about what happened?

[It is not - very clearly not, Krile is exceedingly careful about her tone in this matter - a demand, or asked with intent to prompt him into sharing something he isn't ready or willing to. Rather she wonders if he might one day, or if he thinks he will within the confines of breakfast, or if he wants to but does not know how.

It is, indeed, an offer to listen. An offer that stands from here until such time as he accepts it.]

[punshots]

[ It's offer but not one he can easily parse. It's not that he doesn't recognize it for what it is, but rather that he isn't sure if she's offering just because out of some sense of obligation, or because she actually wants to listen. Whether or not he will talk is irrelevant until he gets a better sense for that.

He meets her gaze and for a long moment, he doesn't say anything. It's like he's searching for something in her eyes, something that might tell him that she's hoping he'll say no, but...he doesn't find it.

Still, he has to be sure, before he can decide anything. ]

...Do you really want to hear about it?

[ He won't blame he for a second, if she doesn't. ]

[baldesion]

I do, if you're willing to tell.

[No such thing will be found in her eyes. It is his story to share if he wishes, or to keep if it would only become heavier in the air.]

When you're ready. [A tired but sure smile.] If ever.

[If that ends up being now, so be it, but they'll still be moving toward breakfast. Krile nudges his leg a bit. Get walking, Prompto.]

[punshots]

[ She doesn't push him to talk, but she does push him to move, and those are both good things. A bit unevenly, he falls into step next to her, and while he can't quite return her smile, there's the hint of one at the corner of his eyes, a quiet appreciation for her offer, but also that she leaves the conversation in his control.

Though that means he does have to answer the question for himself. Does he want to talk about it? And does he want to talk about it now? And honestly, at first blush, he isn't sure. Perhaps objectively he knows it would be good for him, that talking about it will help him move on, but he's ever had difficulty talking about his own struggles. That he's even considering it is a testament to how far he's come, but still, it's...he isn't...

Talking about something like this isn't easy, and talking about it, giving voice to what had happened makes it all the more real.

It's marginally easier to speak while he's walking, though, and to talk about talking about it. It helps him keep his distance from it, mentally and emotionally, while he puts together the pieces inside himself. ]

I-I don't even know what I'd say. You think...talking about it might help?

[baldesion]

[As long as they're walking. His uncertain shamble is a good match for her shorter steps, and really, the encouraging part is that he started moving when she wanted him to. He might be suffering, but it probably isn't the kind of permanent that will leave him useless.

The long silence, she expects that. In essence he has both died and lived through an experience that should have killed him. She cannot imagine it proper.]

I think it would help you specifically. [Because Prompto strikes her as the sort to let his thoughts stay in and build upon themselves until they are cocooned in cobwebs of irrational certainty. The only opinion that gets to inform them is his.

That's not helpful.]

Sometimes laying out the truth keeps it from getting too big for its breeches. [She lets out a gentle sigh.] You've been through something more harrowing than most can say.

[punshots]

[ She's not wrong. What he's been through these past few days is certainly more difficult than anything he'd gone through before, because for all the trials and tribulations he and his friends had gone through back home, none of them had died. He hadn't died. This is so far beyond anything he could have prepared himself for, and while he often finds himself out of his depth when he has to deal with his own emotional health, this is something else entirely.

His thoughts turn, as they so often do, to Alisaie, particularly so when he is having difficulty focusing on himself. ]

...Think Alisaie's in worse shape than I am. She...she had to go on...after.

[ He doesn't need to specify after what, but for all he'd suffered, if there's anyone who's been affected more by this than he is, it's her, the one whose arms he'd died in. ]

[baldesion]

She'll recover.

[Even had Prompto not...magically returned, or whatever it is that happened here, Alisaie would have pulled through the darkness trying to take her. She's better than drowning in grief. So Krile speaks with confidence about Alisaie, and about Prompto, too:]

As will you. [Both of them are too bright to be so overcome.] All the faster, now you have one another.

[Krile studies him again, this time with more appraisal and less outright happy surprise. It's clear he isn't doing very well in more ways than can be observed on the surface. The smells of the station's cafeteria reach them as they round the next corner.]

You're not in physical pain, I trust?

[Quietly, and serious once more.]

[punshots]

[ He takes a moment to reflect on that, because he had returned from stasis with a few minor scrapes and bruises, but the injury that had killed him had completely healed, leaving only scars behind. In light of that, anything else seems negligible, so he shakes his head. ]

...Nah. Nothing worth worrying over, anyway. Whatever the Natha did...they must have some powerful healing magic.

[ He says, as if they merely healed him and didn't bring him back from the dead. ]

[baldesion]

I'd heard I should expect you to return, but I confess to a great degree of skepticism on that matter. It seems my suspicions were unfounded.

[And she is, for once, glad to be wrong.]

Don't think I've not noticed the deflection. [But. That is his decision to make, and ever shall be. So, though they may not leave the topic, they can at least discuss a different part of it.] Have you any sense at all of how long you've been awake?

[Learning how days and nights work on Thesa is taking her some time.]

[punshots]

[ Of course she noticed the deflection — Prompto should know by now that nothing gets past Krile, and even if he's still dancing around the edge of the topic at hand, it's...a little nice to be called out on it, too. It's better for him that way, to not be allowed to brush things under the rug. Alisaie was good at that, too. ]

Think it's been...about a day or so? Maybe two. Haven't been exactly sleeping normal since I woke up, either.

[ But that's as much to do with the passage of day and night as it does his recent trauma. ]

For what it's worth...it wasn't long after you guys got here that I did, too.

[ So what he's saying is...Alisaie hadn't been that hollow shell of herself for very long. ]

[baldesion]

Really? I looked for you shortly after we arrived, once I knew I ought to at least try. It must have been later.

[Since she had friends to see to and Alisaie was...in the state she was in, and Krile herself needed a rest and another meal and to handle her own injuries.]

I'll tell you what I told Alisaie, though - I know a spell for restful sleep. I won't force you to take it.

[She looks up at him, waiting for eye contact. Then she grins her wicked best, though it is tired still, marred by shadows under her eyes and the remains of wounds on her face.]

Unless you wander all about trying to fight sleep on purpose. Thereafter I am not responsible for what duty calls me to do.

[punshots]

[ He can't help it—the way she grins at him then sees a dim smile appearing on his own lips, however fleeting. He knows himself, and his tendency to push on when he shouldn't and to not ask for help when he should, and Krile seems to have picked up on that as well. A sleep spell, however, doesn't seem to be asking too much in the grand scheme of things.

So with a weighty sigh, he tilts his head in a sort of reluctant nod. ]

Think I might just take you up on that offer. 'M a light sleeper most of the time, anyway.

[ When he's torn up and anxious, anyway. A good night's rest will go a long way for both him and Alisaie.

That brings another question to mind, however, and his smile fades away once more. ]

Krile...you saw Alisaie before I....before I got back. [ It's a statement, not a question. ] What was she...did she...say anything?

[baldesion]

Nothing worthy of note, but then I didn't ask her to say anything, either. She wasn't at all in the right frame of mind.

[Prompto likely has not heard about the Echo - at least not from Krile - but she can't rightly say it was any help while she tended Alisaie's wounds. It certainly wasn't necessary to picking up on the extent of her grief and longing.]

I saw to her few injuries and she agreed to the spell I just told you about. [She would shrug if it felt appropriate; the sentiment is there in her voice.] That was all. The room was in shambles, as I'm sure you are quite aware already.

[They're at the door to the cafeteria now, and Krile pauses in the doorway.]

One of the reasons I was on my way here was to see if I couldn't find something she'd consent to eat. But you're...back, so probably she'll be more inclined toward food at all in light of such good news.

[punshots]

[ He makes a low, noncommittal sound of assent as they step into the mess hall. The smell of food immediately draws him in, if nothing else, so that's a good sign. He hasn't had much of an appetite before now, but actually being in the presence of food seems to have changed that. ]

...Yeah. Most likely.

[ Of course Alisaie found his return good news - Prompto doesn't doubt that for a second. But neither had it been easy for her to process. Understandably so. Alisaie had had to watch him die in her arms, his blood on her hands as his life slipped away. She'd been gripped by the worst kind of grief imaginable, and to have things so suddenly reversed had not been easy for her to come to terms with. It won't be for some time, he suspects.

They'll get there. Both of them. But for now Prompto keeps that to himself. Krile has already seen Alisaie at her worst. She doesn't need the details of how she'd reacted to him being back, too. ]

What're you feelin'? Not gonna lie...I think I could eat a whole garula...

[baldesion]

[Why in the world would he lie about that?]

I probably could not, if I knew what a garula was.

[Despite the fact that she's slept for enough time that this feels like breakfast, Krile studies any potential offerings with a wary eye.]

Stew would be exceptional, if they have any available. [Something warm but not too much, with a bit of bread and...all right, she is quite hungry.]

[punshots]

[ Stew sounds like just the ticket, so long as they can actually identify what's in it. Most of the food Roman makes is pretty good, but there's been the occasional questionable dish or two. At this point, though, he won't be too scrutinizing.

He approaches the countertops filled with food and finds among them a warm pot of stew. It looks mostly safe, and so Prompto ladles some into a bowl before handing it over to Krile. ]

What d'you think? Up to snuff?

[ I mean, it's no Ignis quality, but still... ]

[baldesion]

[It looks safe; it smells like long-sought salvation.]

Gods, but that scent is enticing. I'm willing to try it on that alone. [She accepts the bowl gladly, seeking around for both spoons and bread while he figures out his own plate.]

Is there anything I can get for you?

[Many things are unreachable for Lalafells but fortunately, flatware is not one of them.]

[punshots]

Oh! Uh...will you grab me a spoon, too? Think I'm gonna try this out, too.

[ He means the stew, and ladles a generous amount into a bowl for himself. It may be more than he'll be able to eat - his stomach is somewhat untested right now - but he's not too concerned about being wasteful right now, given how much food is just waiting in here to be consumed.

He follows after Krile once he's got his stew, drumming his fingers along the edge of the bowl. ]

Y'know, I could eat anything I want up here, and still I pick something I could find down on the planet.

[baldesion]

[One more spoon it is! When he turns around she has a quizzical look for him.]

They call them the "comforts" of home for a reason.

[And, like it or not, the planet frozen below them is now his home. He made it so, and furthermore he made a home with Alisaie out of a world that seemed at times to push them away actively and with fervor.

She finds a table with bench seats - much easier to manage a good climb onto - and arranges herself before her meal.]

I suppose there's no warning you to take it slowly at first?

[punshots]

[ Fair enough...though his comforts of home would also include a burger and pizza, too. Still, this stew sounds perfect right now, and it seems like they'll be on the station for some time. He can always come back for some B & P later.

He grabs some bread to go along with his stew before following Krile to the table and dropping into a heap opposite her before inhaling deeply. ]

Oh, man, that's what I'm talkin' about...Iggy would probably dig this recipe.

[ If he woke up, Ignis would no doubt have a lot to talk about with Roman. Prompto is already lifting a spoonful to his mouth when Krile asks that question. ]

I mean, you can always warn me...whether or not it takes is a different story.

[baldesion]

Whatever an "Iggy" is.

[Muttered into her spoon as she takes her first several bites. Twelve - not twelve bites, but by all of them. Does everything taste this good when one is famished? Krile is polite, though, swallowing before answering Prompto again.]

Just don't down it all so fast you wind up sick over it. It's very good, though.

[Some day he ought to introduce her to pizza.

For now, though, stew will do. She spends her time between bites watching him carefully. Krile doesn't actually think he'll overdo it, but the way he looked when she first met him in the corridor is with her still.]

[punshots]

Yeah, yeah, I'll pace myself! Don't worry.

[ And he actually will make a concerted effort to do so, because he's not really in a mood to throw his first meal among the living again back up. That said, he's definitely not taking his time, either, keeping up an even pace until he's scraping the bottom of his bowl. Would it be too much to go for seconds...? ]

...You called it on the stew. Really hit the spot!

[ A warm meal really goes a long way towards making him feel somewhat normal again. ]

[baldesion]

[Well! Being in the vicinity of food certainly seems to have done wonders for his health. Krile eats rather more slowly, and is not like to finish her portion. It's very good, though. Warm, full of flavor, sporting nothing with odd spots or a sort of strange glow and texture...

She has a wan smile for him, but she has to squint through it.]

Well, it's good to see you eating. [She has...never, ah, had anyone come back to life before, not all upright and walking and talking. Whatever the Natha use to accomplish this must go on her list of things to ask about.

But just now she's starting to get a headache.

Her smile changes to stunned blankness and then frustrated resignation. She has enough time to think gods, not now before she just...holds her face with one hand and puts her head down on the table.

For the next few minutes she won't respond to anything he says or does, though she is clearly suffering from the headache and otherwise not all there.]

[punshots]

[ He's about to respond in the affirmative, that despite his...condition, if you can even call it that, he seems to be taking food just fine. He doesn't know if he should expect any sort of side-effects to what happened to him, but so far, so good.

But then pain flickers across her features and she sets her head down on the table. Prompto's spoon clatters noisily onto the table as he rushes from his seat and around to her side, leaning in close and setting a hand on her shoulder. ]

Krile? Krile! You in there? C-can you hear me?

[ Whatever's happening, it seems to have pulled her out and away from reality, somewhere he can't reach her. Though perhaps he does reach her in another way that he doesn't realize. Krile will find him in her vision - or rather, she experiences him, in those final moments of his life in Wyver. The heat is intense and the smell of blood and smoke is thick on the air, but Prompto still fights, with Alisaie at their side. Cornered by radicals and dragons alike, it all goes well enough - for a time. Despite their exhaustion they are experienced fighters, and adrenaline thrums in his blood, keeping him on his feet. They're almost through the wave of goons when it happens, and everything shifts.

A harpoon cuts through the air like an arrow, and catches him square in the back. The sudden intensity of pain is unfathomable, and the sheer shock of it freezes Prompto in place for a moment, before he gasps Alisaie's name and falls. It's everywhere - the pain, that consuming pain, the fire of poison driving along after it, and it's a wonder he can form thoughts at all, with the way every inch of him seems to scream with anguish. But Alisaie is there, a moment later, gathering him up into her arms, clinging to him hard—

He asks her to sing for him. It's his final request.

And then it isn't much longer at all, until he fades, the sounds of Alisaie's voice in his ears the only thing he really holds into, in the end. He never had a hope of surviving such a devastating injury, but at least...he passes with peace in his heart. Fear and regret and grief, but also peace. All the remains for Krile after that is darkness. ]