❪ event ❫ a moment in eternity

[natha]

TO THERE AND BACK     It has been a month of chills uncharacteristic of what you might remember as summer — cold days and even colder nights. The days are short and the nights feel eternal. With the recent disruption of the network and no sign of a resolution for the world outside of Nadril, one has to wonder what the future holds for El Nysa. What of Olympia, Wyver, and their residents? The animals you cared for - are they destined to remain as frozen as wretched Ysverai forever? What will become of the sleeping ones in Thesa when there is nowhere else to go but this icy city? Yet not all hope is lost just yet. The woman that appeared at the start of the network errors finally shows up again in another network post. Greetings to you all. I apologize for my abrupt appearance and departure before… My name is Nurray, and I am the closest thing to a monarch that you will find here in Nadril. Magda is... indisposed, so I am here to speak to you in his place. First and foremost, you will notice that your network devices are fully functional once more. Should you experience any further issues, please report them to me immediately so that it can be taken care of. Secondly… Investigating the strange frequency interference we've been experiencing has brought some troubling data to light. The passage of time outside of this colony has been halted, of course, but the hold seems... unstable. Whatever it is that Darma has done to contain the calamity, I doubt that it will last for long. Time is an unpredictable force, and attempting to control it can only have adverse effects on the world. You could stay here if you so chose, outside the reach of that magic... but to do that would be to abandon the rest of this planet to an unenviable fate. ...ah, but there is no need to take my word for it. You can see the effects for yourselves, if you wish — merely look outside. "Seeing is believing"... isn’t that the phrase? Nurray has a point: refugees have not been given a chance to see the outside. The frequent snowstorm barrier of Nadril has made it impossible to see what it's like beyond the colony. Soon after the network post, as though the snow has been "turned off," clouds will clear. With the barrier created by the snow gone, the red sun shines brightly upon the dreary city with its warmth. You can see a purple haze on the south horizon, a indication that Yservai wasn’t all just a dream. He's still there, so far away, yet so close anyway. Near the entrance, a mound of snow melts, revealing steps leading towards the underground. It seems to be a part of the subway station you might have found earlier during your exploration of the colony — this time, the station has been powered on. Two trains lie in wait — their destinations read: Olympia and Wyver. — El Nysa is waiting. FREEZE FRAME     The technology found in the subway station of Nadril is truly out of this world. The combined efforts of Natha technology and alien minds have truly created state-of-the-art transportation never before seen by the typical Nysan. It takes no longer than one hour for the intercoms to announce their arrival to the outskirts of the Dranbu Kingdom — though, even with the platform available, the train never stops; it instead continues for another half hour for it to reach the North Gate of the Olympian Empire, where it sits until it's time to return to the tundra. All in all, it takes a mere hour and a half for this high-speed subway travel from Nadril to Olympia. The second train does make a quick stop at the Olympian Station, but it will be another painless hour and a half until it reaches the jungle of the Wyver Kingdom. Because Wyver is its own island, connected only by a bridge, you might notice that a small part of the travel was underwater. The trip takes only a total of three hours, but there's plenty of time for sightseeing. After all, isn't that the whole point of this trip? BE STILL MY HEART. Leaving the train, you are immediately hit with the still, warm air of the underground. It's hot, much different from the winter of the north, but perhaps a welcome change. The station is old, but it still has a fairly new smell to it, and not just because it's been unused for so long. It feels out of place compared to the rest of this world, and this is especially true when you reach the surface. The entrance was hidden under the earth right near the North Gate. Upon leaving the station, you're immediately hit with the familiar wretched smell and atmosphere of the undead. Even if you're new, you won’tt be able to miss Ysverai, the risen Great Dragon. You see this massive creature on the horizon, mouth wide and ready to blast El Nysa into nothing. Yet he remains still — as are all the terrified residents of Olympia. You've only seen this on the monitors of Thesa Station, and now you're able to experience first-hand how utterly quiet and still the world is now. The native Olympians are all over — you see most of them running away from the Great Dragon. Others equipped their armors and rode their steeds straight toward the danger in hopes of protecting their Empire. And the civilians, having lost all hope, are huddled together — at least they would have been able to spend their final moments with loved ones. Up on Thesa Station, you felt dread when you'd observed Ysverai for too long — this remains true here. That dread reaches your heart and clutches it. You feel his pain and suffering, and for those too in tune with emotions, it may be too much for you to be near him. Best to steer clear from him, or perhaps return to the underground. There is much more to be seen, after all. PRAYING WITH FIRE. Another hour and a half south on the subway, and you'll reach the Wyver Station. It's far warmer here in the station this further south, but Ysverai's dread doesn't reach here. On the surface, you are instead immediately hit with the overwhelming humidity of the jungle. With summer in full swing, the layers you've brought with you from Nadril become a burden. In Wyver, the mood is far different. The Great Dragon Yservai was once a being that was respected and worshipped by the Wyver people — not to mention that the one responsible is none other than Prince Raysc — thus his revival is met with somber resilience. Most of Wyver natives, instead of running away, had gathered around fires in prayer. Trained dragons that were unaffected by Ysverai's influence bow by their master's sides in acceptance of what they feel in their heart is to come with the Great Dragon's final blow. You may even spot your own dragon, eyes beamed up toward Thesa, like it knows you were up there at the moment time stood still. It's hard to imagine where one can go from here. You might start thinking about clean-up efforts, how to achieve proper burials for the fallen ones... but with time frozen, you will find that you cannot actually move anything or anyone. It will be dusk, as Thesa's shines across the skies, when storm cloud gather before Thesa's light. And from the clouds is a familiar figure — Once again, she has descended. TIME & TIME AGAIN     Darma is glowing as bright as the naked eye can perceive. Her massive, true form floats before the world she's built from dust. Is this world salvageable in your eyes, Refugee? We held time in hopes that we fould find a way to dissolve this Ysverai back to the ashes from which he was reanimated. Unfortunately, we continue to be unseeing, thus uncertain of the future... after all, our powers are near depleted. Nurray was correct, Refugee, in that I cannot hold time for much longer. There is... another way, however. It is not ideal by any means, but we shall do what we must to keep Ysverai frozen. As for us... we have expended far too much of our energy — Refugee, I am too aware of the misfortunes you've experienced in your time here. I have failed in my promise to provide better living... perhaps, with more time, I may yet see a better future. Until then, I leave Thesa, our hearts, in your hands. Farewell, Refugee. Her brightness dims as she says her final words — at the same time, raises her arms, palms wide, then closes her hands into a fist. In that instant, time is resumed. It's slow at first, as though time is trying to catch up with reality. It takes a several moments until the slow-motion picture before them reaches normalcy. Darma turns her attention to Yservai, whose motion is also returning, but not for long. In her true form, they are comparable in size; Darma's glow continues to dim as she draws closer to the Great Dragon, and then she coils herself around him, holding him still before assimilating into the wretched creature. By the end of it, time has completely returned to normal, and all residents were able to witness the Natha holding time still for Ysverai — The process turns the Great Dragon, as well as Darma, into stone. HIT PLAY TO REPLAY     Darma has resumed time, and Ysverai is no longer a threat. However, it comes with a hefty price for the Natha. The massive, stone statue of Darma embracing Ysverai looms in the valley between the cities of Olympia and Wyver. It's no doubt an intimidating addition to the world, but there is some peace in knowing it's all over. When civilians finally come to, they can't help but look upon the statue in awe — and their respective cities. It's much to take in all at once. Much destruction has been wrought— buildings lay in ruin, and of the citizens still alive, many look to be in poor physical condition. 1. I. The Sanctuary has sustained much damage, and with the high demand of medical care, cannot serve as the central healing place for those in need. Instead, it is up to individual citizens to find resources and establish places of care. Those with a medical inclination or healing powers may set up medical tents, or work out of their homes. Not everything has been destroyed, and it is still possible to obtain supplies from the market or request them from The Sanctuary. There is also, unfortunately, the tragic task of transporting corpses to graveyards and giving fallen citizens a proper burial. The Temples thank you for your service. II. In order to have a functioning city again, buildings and facilities must be repaired and rebuilt. It's possible your own home was demolished in the battle. With so many important buildings needing to be repaired, city officials are too overwhelmed with the coordination of such tasks to double-check that buildings are restored to their original form. What's more, they seem to encourage design innovation, believing that a new, fresh look to the city will revitalize people's morale. Now is the time to put your own unique flair on the interior or exterior of Olympia's infrastructure. Even parts of the Palace need repair. Time has resumed, yes, but the magic that Darma employs isn't flawless. As powerful of an entity as she may be, to tamper with time is difficult. Some would say it defies the laws of nature. Nature seems to agree, and in the next few weeks, El Nysa will be facing a few hiccups as it finds its equilibrium once more and citizens try to return to normalcy. Strangely enough, El Nysa natives are not disturbed by the occurrence of these events. III. Characters may find that they occasionally (or frequently) suffer from lapses in memory. These difficulties with memory may range from light to severe, although they are thankfully not permanent. Within the span of a few minutes to a few hours, difficulties in remembering people and events are resolved. That isn't to say a similar problem won’t happen again tomorrow… IV. Is it just you, or is your housemate looking a bit old lately? No, it isn't just stress making some citizens appear older. For a short amount of time, some characters may find themselves advancing or regressing in age, both physically and mentally. This particular kind of time hiccup is rare and may be particularly disturbing to the affected person’s friends. Thankfully, there have been no cases of this effect lasting more than an hour. V. At times, it seems as though objects and people in El Nysa will feel a bit out of place. These are beings and things that belong to what some may call "alternate universes." Their presence is transient, and some will only appear for a few instances before returning to their rightful existence. The ones that linger a bit longer, however, may make your day more interesting. Before you stands a pet just like yours, except it talks...? Perhaps you'll meet another version of yourself, a more bloodthirsty version of yourself. Or maybe you'll run into a version of your friend that really enjoys your company. The possibilities are truly endless, and potentially mortifying. VI. Towards the end of the month, the frequency of the aforementioned disturbances will decrease. Following this will be an increase in a different sort of disturbance: one that will either make literal seconds seem like an eternity, or force you to move and talk at a speed you never thought possible. It's as though some higher entity is pressing the fast forward or slow down button on life, and considering your mind works at the same pace as normal, the phenomenon is as frustrating as it sounds. Hope you weren't planning to be on time for anything, because it might be awhile before the universe allows you to take that next step. But these phenomena does draw to a close — and with it, you may wonder what will happen now to those sleeping ones in Thesa now that Darma has turned to stone. After all, it will be near the time of which more refugees should wake... Repairs to Thesa Station should remain ongoing so long as parts can be salvaged from Nadril, at least. And with speed travel via subway possible, it should make travel far easier than ever before. Even with Darma gone, you will have to move forward. There is still much to be done. FINAL OOC NOTES     You may acquire REP for Nadril, and either Olympia or Wyver in this log. An AC-eligible thread for ONE (1) NADRIL REP POINT may be submitted HERE BY AUGUST 26TH, 11:59 PM EST. A second AC-eligible thread for 1 REP for either Olympia OR Wyver may be submitted HERE OR HERE BY AUGUST 26TH, 11:59 PM EST. Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

Prior Walter | Angels in America

[priorly]

HIT PLAY TO REPLAY.


IV. a: NOTHING'S GONNA TOUCH US IN THESE GOLDEN YEARS.

[Prior Walter is just scraping 18 and hasn't figured out how to look it, yet. Not out of the closet, but not in it to anyone with a modicum of observational power, he wears his hair dangerously long (it is the seventies, after all) and the clothes of someone longing to escape the Country Club.

He can be found investigating the wrack and ruin of Olympia, or perhaps even taking the fast train into Wyver, doing his bit for rebuilding the various cities commercial prospects by stopping into any store that sells products for beautifying the face or hair.

Before expertly transferring them, unpaid for, from the displays into one of his pockets.

Or perhaps you'll catch him by the shoes: a pair of charismatic heels with something hypnotic that keeps drawing him back to them. They are, however, expensive and hardly pocket sized.

What's a boy to do?]

IV. b: TIME MAY CHANGE ME BUT I CAN'T TRACE TIME.

[The differences are subtle, perhaps not even noticeable at first, if you catch a glimpse of Prior across the street from you, or from behind.

He is exactly five years older than the version who can be found in the city on a more average day. Barely any time at all: his face hasn't changed, much. His hair's still a dark, thick tumble (he's thirty-five for pity's sake, too young for balding). He still looks younger than he should. His eyes are dark, and warm...

Although he wears glasses now, red rimmed and thick lensed. He carries a cane and uses it with the confidence of someone who's been relying on the support for a while.

This Prior will live for six more months.

There's a quality to him that echoes the shortening of his days. His hands tremble. Something about him almost seems to be fading out, becoming translucent. Looking at him can be like looking at sunlight filtered through leaves: transient, a little hazy.

But he's more peaceful now. Quieter, less desperate. This is what acceptance looks like.

You might find him watching the sunset, in the park. Watching him is almost the same thing.]

VII (wildcard): TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE

[Roll right in with any scenario you like - both the aged up/down Priors can be encountered anywhere in either city, and your regular everyday Prior will also be out and about - please feel free to throw anything at me, or grab me @shewokeup on plurk or pm if you'd like to plan. PS bring me ageswaps.]

iv a

[triplerose]

[ Prior will be met by another young face, well dressed and poised and his nose a little in the air. It's not really because he's conceited, sort of, it's just what he knows.

He wanders by the shoes in question and pauses to look at them, too. ]

Funny things, aren't they?

[priorly]

[It's fine, Loras. Genuinely conceited people don't tend to literally hold their noses higher than regular folk. Prior may just be concerned he has a crick in his neck.

Although, actually, the thing Prior's concerned about is how lustfully he's been looking at those shoes.

He snaps out of it quickly, choking out a laugh, then deepening it for effect.]

I was just wondering how anyone manages to walk in them.

[Like him, for example. Like how he could manage to get them out of here and walk in them.]

[triplerose]

I couldn't imagine.

[ Loras looks a bit put off by them, really. Certainly no one he knows would ever wear them. ]

They seem like they might be used for torture rather than fashion.

[priorly]

They do say beauty is pain.

[They may, but Prior probably shouldn't. It's an odd reference for a teenage boy to make. He pushes a hand back through his hair, styling it out and turning to look his unexpected companion over, instead.

Oh. And then he has to swallow a few times before he can go on.]

At any rate, I was just... distracted by all the glitter, mostly. Were you looking for something?

[He quietly curses himself for sounding like a store assistant, while putting on a matching smile.]

IVa

[summertimeblues]

[Times are strange these days. Hard not to notice. Just this morning he'd tried taking a piss and the stream halted mid air like someone hit the pause button on reality.

Charming stuff. He'd prodded it with immense caution, then time resumed and he'd had to shake off and wash twice because he'd altered the splash trajectory. Fucking typical. Can't even take a leak without magical interference.

(Though he's softened some on the matter of magic, seeing that statue looming over every rooftop in Olympia. It lends a weighty and formless guilt to squat on his mind, and he often finds himself shuffling away from that Himalayan reminder of Darma's sacrifice. He'd done a lot of shit talking about the Natha's motivations and capabilities, and now he doesn't know what to think.)

To find your current roommate with about twelve years shaved off his biological clock, however, that's a hefty pill to swallow. So when he sees the shaggy-haired doppelganger, he's more than willing to pass it off as the most uncanny resemblance.

Of course, that's right about when the kid starts eyeballing a flashy pair of heels, and that's one coincidence too many. Richie muddles the pros and cons of approaching. Wary, as he should be, but with airs of non-chalance, he at last braves an approach.]

Is your fairy godmother not pulling through for you?

[Could be a stranger's uninvited commentary. Could be a hello from a good friend. The baby-faced twin's reaction will settle which it is.

(And if it is Prior, how and why is this happening?)]

[priorly]

[Lacking twelve years of sharp comebacks honed by a scene where those are both currency and stock in trade, Prior's response to a stranger sliding over and asking him just the strangest question is... silence. Wide eyed, Bambi not long after that whole sad affair with his mother type silence.

A collection of thoughts begin drawing themselves together in the space left by Prior's parted but functionless lips.

Is this some kind of code? He's heard about those. Fairy godmother sounds exactly like one of the terms someone looking to pick up without getting picked up for it would use. Does he mean the shoes? When Prior looks up Richie's shot a glance that way but why would anyone think he'd want them?

Does he look too much like he wants them?

Is this some kind of joke? Is he going to be waiting when Prior gets out of the store to make him think twice about anything to do with fairies?

God, how do people ever figure this stuff out?

Prior realizes, at least, that the goldfish impression is starting to look a little more than slow, and pulls his lips together at the tail end of a deep breath to compose a response. His voice isn't as affected as Richie's used to, showing a slightly deeper natural register, albeit with a fey lilt he can't seem to shake.]

Oh I was... wondering if they make charitable donations. [If it's code, he lets that sit as long as he can (barely a few seconds, but to him they're heavy with intention. And if it's a joke, he adds:] My sister's tragically unattractive, she needs help distracting attention from her face.

[summertimeblues]

[Ah, youth. So awkward and earnest, ever-seeking the fresh airs of cool.

It fails to occur to him to check his phrasing, or that anything said could be a cause for alarm. Such is the privilege of a man who could do away with caution. All he knows is what he's looking to figure out, and that is why the shadow of a younger Prior is skulking about town. Does he have a brother?

Then he speaks. If there's one thing Richie knows it's the particulars of vocality. Sure, the feminine affectations are mostly absent, the pitch a hitch deeper than usual, but the rhythms are unmistakable.

Charitable donations, though? Is he expecting Richie to spring for them? Like some kind of — well, let's not go there.]

So you went for the feet? There's too many inches between eye level and toes, trust me on that. Get her a push up bra instead. [Prior never mentioned a sister. Not the time to be asking now, and moreover, he doesn't seem to recognize Richie at all. That's enough cause for doubt.

Worse cases come to mind. Diana had apparently woken up with something like a century of new memories tucked between her ears. Maybe it could work the other way too. You go to sleep, wake up ten years younger and none the wiser. His heart seizes (it can't be, you have to sleep for three days minimum, isn't that the rule?) and he keeps the siege of uncertainty from flooding his expression. Richie looks away to the register a moment, lips thinned.]

If it's for you, don't be shy about it. They're open to all sorts around here, even moreso than New York.

[priorly]

Don't talk about my sister's underwear.

[Prior turns a look on Richie that's enough shock-and-horror for it to almost look as if he really has a sister to be offended for (teenage repulsion more than 'cause you sound like a pervert, buddy). Born for theatrics, clearly, if not inhabiting the role quite as confidently as he one day will. He holds the look a mere moment before twitching through a different set of microexpressions, weighing up the rest of what was said. It was all just delay, really. He can handle dramatics. The strange, honest and personal is a much trickier matter.

Sliding his teeth along his lower lip, he runs calculations between pure denial and throwing himself on this unasked for mercy. And wasn't asking to be bought the shoes, but maybe he could.

Traps are always baited with something, though, right? He nods a little, and looks back to the display.]

And I don't know what you heard about New York, but I've never seen a store that puts shoes like that in the men's department.

[(He just hasn't been shopping in the right places).

He'd only been in the city a short while, though. Hasn't made a proper escape - and now he's here somehow, a muddy cloud of memories not quite telling him why, only not to question it.

He could question something else, though, a sidelong look up at the man beside.]

How did you know I came here from there?

iv b

[torchwoodteaboy]

[As much as Ianto did enjoy Nadril, there's not a chance in hell that he would allow himself to sit back and hide away there while there's work to be done elsewhere. And what work it is. The cities are a mess, quite frankly, and no one's talking about what's happened to the Outpost. Probably been leveled, no doubt.

Ianto's been doing what he can, as much as he can. He's good at tidying. Cleaning up a mess. It was practically part of his job description back at Torchwood, after all. But even the most eager of workers needs a rest every now and again or else he'll wear himself into the ground, and that would hardly be helpful to anyone. So he's made himself stop for a sit and a drink of water. Coming to the park seems the best course of action in that. Peaceful, and either untouched or already picked up by now.

It's where he spots Prior as well. Sitting not that far off the path. Wearing glasses and with a cane balanced on the bench beside him but definitely still the man he'd met in the Central. It had only been the one time, after all, how should he know that he hadn't just left those things at home at the time?

He hesitates for a moment. Understanding that Prior hasn't exactly been having the best time of things lately. That's what his post had been about, after all. John had pointed it out, right before he'd gone off to spend some time with him, and Ianto had considered saying something as well. But John had been over and he'd doubted that Prior would be sitting there replying while he did, and he'd. Well, not forgotten about it exactly. Just not really known enough of what to say, in the end. Supposing that those people he'd spoken of were significant in Prior's life but not knowing him enough to understand. Wanting to ask John about it when he'd come back but of course knowing the other man would respect his privacy.

Not really understanding what he's doing, Ianto quietly makes his way over to hover by the other end of the bench, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he asks:]

Is this seat taken?

[priorly]

[There's an odd muddle at the back of his mind. A feeling of having been here, and gone, and come back again, when something deeper in him knows that isn't right at all. Two lives sit muddled up on this park bench, and one of them should never have been here at all.

He's aware something's not quite right - visions don't come like they did when Angels beat their wings to the rhythm of his pulse, but he still gets feelings. You can't be a prophet and lose track of the weirdness of the world. He's just more peaceful with it now.

He's not crazy. The world is, and will always be. Both of them. That's part of what makes them so beautiful.

And so he knows the face that looks down at him, though his eyes are fuzzier than ever, even through thick glass panes. And he smiles.]

Oh, absolutely. I was saving it for you.

[torchwoodteaboy]

[It's a sweet smile, and Ianto can't help but return it in kind. Settling down into the seat that the other man has allowed him. Prior seems. Different, though Ianto cannot exactly put his finger on why. It isn't just the glasses. Is it?

Depending on how well Prior knows John, he might recognize the flannel shirt Ianto's wearing as belonging to his roommate. Or perhaps he might just assume the pair of them dress similarly (they don't, Ianto just brazenly stole this one for the day).]

That was quite thoughtful of you.

[priorly]

Well, you know me. Always thinking of others. Why I'm practically a saint already.

[When Ianto sits, he'll see Prior's chosen his spot even more carefully. At this precise point of the day, at this precise angle, when the sun comes through the trees just so it catches the long grass of the rolling hillside and sets it on fire. It burns only for a few minutes, before the sun dips lower and extinguishes it for another night.]

This is my favorite spot in the whole city, did I ever tell you that? [He's never spoken to Ianto while in this city, which makes the answer no.] It reminds me of my favorite spot from home. Isn't it crazy? All this time and I still miss it.

iva

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Beauty and medicine often go hand in hand, so it's really not too surprising to find Claire stepping into one of the shops. There is a definite pause at something resembling hair dye (because she'll eventually get to fixing Theon's hair), and then she's browsing elsewhere.

She doesn't immediately recognize the young man near her because she's too focused on watching something disappear into his pocket.]

Excuse you, sir.

[P l e a s e.]

[priorly]

[That something is a lipstick. Red, dramatic, not his shade at all but he's not practiced enough to know that yet and is too overawed by all the pretty colors. He's good at this little routine, sure he's checked all angles for anyone whose focus might stray his way.

But apparently he had a blind spot. Claire speaks from just behind one shoulder, and there's no doubting what she means - his fingertips have only just released their prize. He stumbles a couple of steps to the side and looks round, trying to let his wide eyes work for him.]

Sorry... ma'am? Do you mean me? [A beat, and there's an innocent smile added to the look.] Is there something I can help you with?

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire stares, caught in some moment of trying to reconcile what she's seeing with the thought in her mind. Prior, it says, but Prior is not this young. Young, yes, but not like this. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more.]

... Prior?

[Possibly? It's also possible this is someone else entirely. She's all to familiar with shared faces.]

IV-b

[fiendennor]

[The girl with the long, light-colored hair is younger than she would normally be, by about 6 years or so, putting her at perhaps 12, if one were to hazard a guess. She's on that cusp of young adulthood, already tall-- even gangly, as if the rest of her hasn't caught up yet-- but walking like she hasn't figured out how to be tall yet. Diana has had to grow up quickly, but not all things go that fast.

She's wearing a nice-looking black dress, clearly high quality and well tailored to her, that ends just below her knees. Her heels match, and she's wearing long elbow-length black gloves. It sure does look like she's come from a funeral, and the red that rims her eyes only reinforces that impression.

This younger Diana looks somewhat out of place in the park, to be honest. She notices the man staring at the sunset. It's pretty, hanging low in the sky like that.]

...it's beautiful, isn't it?

[priorly]

[Prior Walter is two, unconflicting things: fond enough of children, and familiar with funerals. There have been a lot, in the last five years. And no better place than a park to remember that the sun still rises and sets, even when it feels like it should be stopped in place.]

I think my angle's better. [He looks up at her long enough to smile, then turns his head to the view.] You'd have to sit down to see.

[It's a line, but not a lie. At a lower eyeline, the last of the sun's light spreads out through the long grass and turns it burnished gold.]

[fiendennor]

[She visibly hesitates for a moment, as though being offered to take a seat by strange adult men is unfamiliar to her. It is, of course, but it only takes a second before she's deemed that there's no way this man could be any sort of danger or risk.

So without a word, she steps closer to the bench and sits next to him, smoothing out her dress and clasping her hands together in her lap.]

You're right. It's better down here. Everything looks so warm and nice like this...

[Diana trails off.] It's unfair, isn't it? How it's only this pretty just at the end of the day.

IV a

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter is very generally investigating the state of Olympia, wandering around the various businesses he remembers to see what's still what. He's not looking particularly for beauty products, but there are a few stores of that kind that he's found he prefers. It would be nice if they were still around after all the destruction.

Which means that he happens to be in the same store as young Prior when he attempts - succeeds - his little bit of shoplifting. Well, succeeds in getting it into his pocket, anyway. That's one step. Perhaps most people wouldn't notice, but Peter wasn't always a master thief. There was a time when he was young and on his own. Certain behaviors trigger his attention even though it's out of the corner of his eye and he's almost halfway down the row of products. It's just instinct.

The young man looks halfway familiar, and in any event it doesn't do Peter enough good to rat him out to the owners of the establishment. Which means that Prior get away with his little bit of shoplifting.

Though he does pick up...a tail. Peter follows him out, hanging back for a block or two before he draws level.]

That was very well done. [He looks absolutely casual and nonthreatening, hands tucked into his pockets as he starts to walk beside Prior. His (painted) lips are pulled into an amused smile.] Spur of the moment, or are you on a mission?

[No big deal, just...casually inquiring about his shoplifting plans. Like you do.]

[priorly]

[Prior's shoplifting plans mostly involve getting home and spilling his pockets out onto the bed, then trying everything on at once until he looks like one of those five-year-old beauty queens primped up for a pageant. There's a lot of blank space in his mind when it comes to how he got here - and where, exactly, here is - but the thing he knows for sure is there's nobody at home to walk in and be horrified.

Two blocks from the store is more than enough for him to have relaxed his shoulders, assuming that he's made it out undetected. It's enough for him to be genuinely confused when a stranger starts talking to him - ready to do the ducking his head and keeping walking without a response that all sane people engage in when strangers try to engage them in conversation.

And then he makes the mistake of glancing up. At a man, wearing lipstick. In public.]

What? I... I don't know what you mean.

[It's a genuine response. He's far too busy staring at Peter's mouth to have the first kind of clue.]

[rosebyanyother]

Don't you? How strange.

[Peter's voice is very pleasant, but there's also a faint air of calling bullshit. His brows are very slightly raised now. Even as his smile becomes just a little wider.]

I could have sworn I saw you pocket some lipstick back there. [His voice is actually pretty quiet, and he only says that when he's sure there's no one around to listen. His intent isn't to get the boy in trouble. Just to see what he's going to do in general.] But I suppose my eyes could have been playing tricks on me.

[He doesn't...sound like he believes that at all.

But there's a faint chance this is all lost on Prior anyway. Peter is used to people staring at him. There are very many times when he distinctly wants to be stared at. Just as many as the times where he aims to avoid any attention at all. And he has to admit that his continued choice to wear lipstick most days isn't exactly within normal Olympian style. So it happens.

Still. The young man seems particularly distracted.]

iv a

[latkje]

[ For Nash, it's the fifties— 453 to be exact, and he's wearing the crisp grays and greens that were popular in those years in his homeland. At present, though, he's wandering the streets of Olympia, uncomfortable and unfamiliar but with an adolescent determination to not seem so. His hair is parted straight down the middle, not as tall as usual but standing up straighter.

He watches Prior for a few minutes before actually approaching him, the way he's been trained, and waits until he's reasonably certain he won't be overheard to speak. ]

You stole those.

[ And stealing is wrong. Still, something is clearly holding him back from marching off to the authorities. Wherever they are, in this place. ]

[priorly]

[It's long enough before Nash intervenes that Prior's let out the breath he was holding, relaxed his shoulders - in fact, given up all the clear tells that his older self will know to shake off before a little shoplifting spree. He's made it a few steps from the scene of the crime, enough that he'd be strolling casually away, one pocked a little more weighed down than the other, if he weren't being squared off by some sort of... boy scout?

It's hard to know how best to respond. This is different to being stopped by an adult. If there were a heavy hand on his shoulder Prior would have a few seconds to judge whether to plead or run.

Here, he checks the possibility of a quick exit, but stands his ground, more uncertain than anything.]

I did no such thing.

[If in doubt, deny.]

[latkje]

You're lying. I saw you. [ And the way Prior relaxed after he'd thought he'd gotten away with it. All of it, textbook. Nash speaks with a growing confidence, the kind of inborn assurance of someone who has always gotten his way and never had to question it.

Though, he still doesn't know exactly what he should do here. Nash hasn't got a sword, so it's not as though he can level a challenge…

He takes a step closer to Prior. ]

But you didn't notice me, did you?

[ He can't quite hide his pleasure. He's endured so many hours of training, but hasn't gotten much opportunity to put it into practice. In fact, it gives him an idea. An idea about stealing the stolen items back. ]