nysalogs | ❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

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❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

HOUR OF RUIN

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

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

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

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

REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE

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

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

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

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

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

IN WYVER

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

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

IN OLYMPIA

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

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

VIRTUOUS VERSE

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

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

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

THE RAGE

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

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

Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life!

Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end.

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

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

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

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

AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL

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

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

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

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

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

I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought.

A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions.

Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station.

FINAL OOC NOTE

Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three.

OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA
Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month.

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[ 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?

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.

[ 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...

[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.]

[ 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... ]

[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.]

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.

[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?

[ 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.

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.]

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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[She comes to her senses with a groan and a soft gasp. A tearing pain in her chest and stomach flares and fades, along with the rhythmic throbbing in her head. Someone's holding onto her. She looks up, the blur solidifies into Prompto, all flooded with worry and confusion and- alive.

Fire and mud and gunshots and a broken melody and the terrible ache of breathing her last meld into one plait of memory, thankfully fading. Not hers.

But her hand presses against her ribs and there are, for just a moment, tears in her eyes when she looks at him. They do not fall. Krile learned to defend herself against the onslaught of coming out of an Echo-induced vision long ago.

Her voice is soft and scattered anyway.]

I'm so sorry.

[ Having no reason to suspect that Krile has just see what she has, Prompto can only assume that she's apologizing for fading out like she just did. Did she...faint? It doesn't quite seem like it, but that look in her eyes has his heart clenching painfully with worry, and...sadness. ]

Don't be. I'm just glad you're back with me. [ He squeezes her shoulders. ] You okay? C-can I get you something?

[ He's not a great medic at the best of times, but that's especially true when he doesn't know what he's dealing with. ]

[Glad she's back with him?

Were she not still chasing off phantom aches and beginning to tremble, Krile might laugh at the juxtaposition of his truth and hers.]

I'll be fine.

[By the Twelve, would her voice not halt and shudder so? 'Tis almost compulsory, the way she looks him up and down a few times, gaze lingering where the harpoon pierced through. There is nothing there now, of course, not on the surface.]

Just...a moment's headache. [She need not rub her head for effect alone. Doing it for real does help a little.] Probably made worse by all these infrequent meals.

[She hasn't echoed dying before. Not even close. The brave face and hesitant next sip of what remains of the stew hide a heart that still feels as though a fist holds tight to it.]

[ She's giving him...such an odd look, and she focuses right on his chest, where he'd been hit by the harpoon, where only scars now remain. But how...she couldn't...Alisaie wouldn't have told her in such detail...

Frowning, he draws himself upright again, taking her at her word. If she says it was just a headache, then it was just a headache. He has no reason not to think as much, really, but he squeezes her shoulder once more before dropping his hand away. ]

Heh...guess I'm not the only one who hasn't been keeping a normal schedule. Seriously, though...do you need anything? Glass of ice water?

[ Sleep, the one thing they all need but find so elusive? ]

[Ah! An out. Perfect.]

Water would be lovely, thank you.

[Yet she can't keep the slight desperation from her voice.

And even when he comes back from his foray for water, she keeps looking at his chest, when she isn't searching his eyes carefully for some unnamed thing.]

Probably I ought to tell you about the rest of it. [Knowing that Alisaie has not, that there would have been no need, since none of the others from Hydaelyn who are awake have the Echo to deal with.]

[ He makes quick work of his task, returning quickly with a glass of water and holding it out to her. Observational as he is, he doesn't miss the way she keeps glancing at his chest. Did she...sense something about him? Was that really just a headache?

Brow taut, he lowers himself onto the bench next to her. ]

The rest of...what?

[ What is she talking about? ]

[Ah. Is this so she need not look him in the eye, or he her, or both?

She takes a long drink of water. How best to lay out the broad points of the Echo to someone wholly unfamiliar with the concept?]

What I saw, just then. [Seems she's going with blunt and to the point.] The details aren't important, but there are moments when I am able to see very briefly into the past. I can't control it or summon it up.

[One of the things she's bitter about. Another is that the details aren't important anymore, which she just managed to avoid saying. One more steadying breath.]

Most, if not all, such visions are brought about through proximity to...to a substantial event or series of events. To the aetheric resonance they create, or leave behind, within a space or a person.

[ ...Oh.

Oh.

For all he can sometimes be distracted and oblivious, Prompto is sharper than he seems, and her explanation is not lost on him. The implications of it, rather. What else could she have seen? A substantial event, and the way she'd been looking at his chest afterwards, like she expected to find a gaping hole there -

He exhales sharply, dropping his gaze into his lap, fingers curling into tight fists. ]

I-I'm sorry. You...you shouldn't... [ He shakes his head. ] I'm sorry.

[ As if this is all his fault, but really, isn't it? She wouldn't have had to witness such awful things if he hadn't died in the first place. ]

It's all right, Prompto. It isn't something you caused.

[Though it also hasn't happened to this degree since she woke moons ago, it did stir quite a bit in Khalo Village. Krile is worried, indeed, that such intense contact with Ysverai and whatever fell magicks sustain him did her some damage.

Though is isn't her inclination to comfort as such, she puts her hand on his knee and pats it once.]

Though it was far from enjoyable, it does save you the trouble of deciding whether to talk about it. I still won't, of course, if you don't want to think back to it at the moment.

[She manages a smile, even. The visions of the Echo are intense in the moment but the grip of it fades quickly.

And what a horrifying thing to go through, indeed - for Prompto especially, who indeed died from it.]

[ A hollow laugh slips from him at that, mirthless and unbidden. Gods, perhaps he didn't cause it, but that she had to witness something so horrible, so personal at all... ]

Heh...it's all I've been able to think about since I woke up.

[ His death, and its effects on those around him, anyway. Absently, he lifts his fingers to his chest, drawing the tips of them over his shirt where a scar lurks beneath. ]

...It happened so fast. We...there's nothing we could have...

[ But that still doesn't change the fact that it happened. ]

[Being in the wrong place at the wrong time killed him.

Krile shudders silently. She very nearly got skewered on one of those harpoon bolts herself. A "firsthand" experience with its compound deadliness is truly sobering.]

There is nothing anyone could have done.

[Which is hard for her to admit. Even practical-minded Krile has a streak of "if I had been there", and she has pulled off some exceptional bringing back from brinks lately. But the combination of the severity of that injury and the poison trailing it...]

What Alisaie did for you was terribly kind. [No wonder she has been but a shell of herself.] The only option there was, I think. I would only have managed...easing your pain.

[Not driving back the inevitable; perhaps prolonging it needlessly. There just wasn't time.]

[ It is good, in a way, to hear Krile say that, to not have to wonder that if Alisaie had just been able to get Krile to him in time, he might've lived. But his injury had not been a simple of small one. It had been complex and devastating, and that he hadn't died instantly is nothing short of a miracle. Even if he has returned, he's...glad, that he was able to have those last few moments with his wife, to tell her how much he loves her, to hear her voice in his fading thoughts.

He leans forward onto the table, putting his elbows up with his head within them .]

...I-I don't know what to do, Krile. She...needs space, physically, but I...I feel like I'm going crazy keeping my distance.

[ Prompto has always been a tactile person, and Alisaie has ever indulged his need for physical contact. But now, she can barely hold his hand without looking haunted. It's like she hasn't yet accepted he is real and tangible, not just a phantom of her dreams.

This isn't Krile's problem, and he feels guilty for even bringing it up. But it's out there now. She knows what he went through better than anyone. And so...he'll continue to talk. ]

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baldesion - 2018-08-21 14:07 (UTC) - Expand

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