❪ event ❫ THE DESCENT: PART ONE -- the overflow.

[natha]

THE PROLOGUE     Your sleep on the night of the 15th is not a restful one, unfortunately. It’s unclear whether you are in a state of half-wakefulness, or dreaming. The voices you hear certainly sound very real. What is it, Sael? —Is everyone asleep?! Every one, yes. Sael, it appears you do not have good news to deliver...? N-No! I don’t know how it slipped past us, but there’s something powerful coming this way. Something hostile. I can barely keep the core systems online! ... I don't know what to do... I see... and we cannot protect Thesa and Alria in addition to transferring the Refugees to Olympia. This force, they waited for this moment. They knew I have been Intervening, and that I have become weak from such Interventions— ... We've been had. It cannot be helped. To save the Refugees on the Stations, we must eject the awoken unto El Nysa. My remaining energy shall go into shielding Thesa— left defenseless, every being we have saved on this station will perish... Sael, where is the ideal location for the landing? Hmm. There aren’t any people within a ten mile radius of The Outlook, and there shouldn’t be any for a few more days. I think that’s the best location right now. Very well. Instruct Zasere and Roman to begin preparations for an emergency eject. This is the only way we can save everyone. I am counting on you to ward off the enemy on the space front. The rest... is up to our Refugees. The alarms are blaring. It shouts against your eardrums, calling you to wake again. This time, you are in new pod, strapped down completely and cushioned tightly against the walls. In truth, you had no idea when you’d gone to sleep, but it is reminiscent of when you had been saved from the force of the Storm. A voice greets you when you come to, while the conversation between Darma and Sael is still fresh on your mind. Despite their voices playing like an old tune in your memory, you still know it is something that happened. Something has gone terribly wrong. You hear Darma speak, her voice loud in your head. Fellow Refugee, I wake you with regrettable news. A force equal to our own is attempting to engage Thesa, no doubt to steal the souls contained here. My energy is near depleted with this last Intervention, so I cannot send you to the grounds safely as originally intended. However, there is hope yet.This power shall instead shield Thesa and Alria — and believe in me when I swear no one shall be hurt. Your loved ones are safe with us. —Unfortunately, that is at your expense. Your descent will not be an easy one. This pod that contains you shall pierce through El Nysa's atmosphere and land you on an island west of Olympia, simply called The Outlook. Travel east. Find the West Outpost, then continue east until you find the Olympian North Gate. There is a method to this madness. You shall be sent in waves. The inhumanly strong shall be first. The parachute will soften the landing, but I am aware of all your capabilities. The first wave will survive the drop, and will work tirelessly to secure the others. Find your bearings, and ensure the safety of the second wave. They are the healers and medics. Catch their pods, ease their landings, make certain that they shall not be harmed, because you will need them for your wounds. The third wave are your strongmen. They shall help clear the debris and take people to safety, making way for the fourth wave, those can conjure magic to help. Bring everyone to a safe distance. A supply drop will follow soon after; it shall contain tents and tools that will be useful for the long night. The fifth and sixth waves are largely vulnerable humans. With your combined efforts, you shall survive this great misfortune. Forgive us, Refugee. Leave the Moons to us, my promise to you is still in tact— focus on what you can do for others like you. Helping at least two (2) Refugees will earn you one (1) Natha REP. Threads must be AC length to qualify, and can be submitted HERE by JULY 31st. THE DESCENT     FIRST WAVE. The instructions are clear. Those who are a part of the First Wave should be equipped with physical strength and fortitude to survive the drop or the power to regenerate and heal their own wounds. While the pods are already designed to cushion some of the impact, as this is the first group, it will likely to be the most jarring. In all of the waves, some of the pods will malfunction and offer no cushion at all. They will be expected to quickly find their bearings. Their mission isn’t simply just landing, after all. The first wave will be expected to help the next wave, and the wave after that. Whether through their abilities or brute strength, they will be expected to help soften the landing for those who are falling. They will also be expected to pry open hatches, carry people to safety, and to just... survive. It’s not always easy being first. SECOND WAVE. Within the next hour, it’s time for the Second Wave to make their descent. You were selected based upon your aptitude for healing and/or being able to administer first aid. Perhaps you can help the tired and weary. Maybe those who have landed have have strength, but no stamina. Either way, it may be unwise to exhaust all their abilities at once. The night is long, and you may want to conserve their energy for the next waves to come. At least you’ll have help in getting settled. THIRD WAVE. Akin to the First Wave, the Third Wave will possess some durability, and some manner of strength, making you a reliable ally. Especially in a time of crisis... Or so we hope. While the landing is tough, and some of you may need first aid. As soon as you’re all healed up, you’ll have no time to dawdle. Your help is required. “Please help those still trapped in pods. Carry those unconscious to safety. Lift debris, and rescue all you can.” May be a vague message still stuck in the back of your head. Something whispered to you while you were just waking. Well, might as well roll with it. It’s the best shot you have, after all. FOURTH WAVE. Those in the Fourth Wave, as Darma projects, were selected due to the versatility of their abilities. No one expects one man to do the same as the next. Rather, that’s precisely the point: to be different. To be able to accomplish something unique. While one individual may be blessed with powers that assist in putting out fires, another may have the ability to shield those from oncoming debris. Maybe one even has the ability to channel all of these. Regardless, it’s up to you and your quick wits to see what tasks are open. It’ll take some coordination, especially as there are more people mixing into the fray, but, you can do it, can’t you? FIFTH WAVE. If you are in the Fifth Wave it is likely that you have a specific power or ability. One that isn’t easily channeled or called upon. Or, perhaps, you were merely placed here for insurance. Whatever the case if, your expertise will presently be put to the test. Maybe you’re quite proficient in survival skills, and you’re already eyeing the supplies that were dropped between the Fourth Wave and now. Goods all ready to be salvaged. Okay, maybe some can’t, but as they say, “it’s the thought that counts.” Besides, the injured from earlier certainly need a space to rest, and camp isn’t going to make itself. Regardless, maybe you feel more comfortable joining in the efforts to assist those who still require it. Whatever it is, you are sure to find your place and use. Darma obviously held the same faith. FINAL WAVE. The Final Wave is fortunate in a variety of ways. With Thesa Station a bit more stabilized, Darma utilizes the last bit of her powers in insuring that these last remaining pods are met with the softest landing, right beside the fifth, that is. The fragility of life is nothing she is unfamiliar with, after all. Still, that isn’t to say nothing is expected of you. Most of the individuals that have dropped earlier will likely be exhausted. An hour stretched between each one, makes several hours for the first couple of waves. They'll need a place to relax. You will act as the final group of helpers. Settle into whatever role feels best for you. Are you an excellent cook? Great at rationing supplies? Perhaps, you have a secret skill in ______ that might come in handy here? Or, maybe, despite the gentler landing you still managed to get hurt. The sky's the limit, and you got this! Meanwhile, in the distant kingdom of Olympia, the Empress and her loyal subject discuss matters late into the night... I’ll have the results of that dragon toxin study ready for you soon, Your Highness. I just need a few helpers to— oh wow, is that a meteor shower? Oh yes, it appears so. How beautiful.. hehe. Let us thank Thesa for this blessing. GATHER YOUR BEARINGS     All in all, the descent lasts for nearly seven hours. After the deployment of the last wave of refugees, it’s only natural that you may be feeling pretty worn out. A. Within the remains of the pods, Refugees will find basic camping supplies such as small tents, sleeping bags, and compasses. Not all of the supplies remain intact, thanks to the impact of the crash. But, sharing resources will ensure there is enough for everyone to rest for the night. Can you really in good conscience leave that stranger next to you without shelter? B. Although you may be tired after such a life-threatening ordeal, there is still work to be done to ensure your survival. Fortunately, it works out because now there are plenty of empty hands. There are stray debris and metal parts that should be collected and disposed of. There's firewood that needs to be collected, and campfires to upkeep. The nights in the Outlook are particularly chilly, and so it will be imperative to keep warm! C. Your clothes are tattered or too bloodied to sleep on with comfortably. Fortunately, Darma thought ahead. There will be various types of clothing provided, mostly robes that resemble her own in earthy tones, all to help them camouflage you for your next big adventure. FINAL OOC NOTE     This INTRO event will be broken up into three parts! Please keep this in mind when plotting your threads/tag load. PART 3 Will be up on JULY 22ND, at 6 PM EST. We will not provide an additional CAPTCHA for this overflow. Players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals in the event this overflow gets close to CAPTCHA. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP. The NETWORK is currently down, as Sael must concentrate all of his efforts on warding off the invading force. Characters may still message each other's personal IC inboxes. Submit two (2) AC-eligible threads from this log for one (1) Natha Orbiter REP point here by JULY 31ST. Recommended Listening: Alex & TOKYO Rose PART ONE | PART ONE (overflow) | PART TWO | PART THREE QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● world ● map ● reputation ● npcs taken ● reserves ● application calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

hAHaHha jesus

[bitesexual]

I'm not— [ It's a false start, because he has no idea what he's supposed to say to any of this. He isn't trying to do anything. He's also completely lost, and it's difficult to register the pain and bitterness without taking it personally.

But he knows Clary. That buys her enough credit for Simon to swallow defensiveness in favor of trying to understand, though the instinctive urge to step forward again, to place his hands on her shoulders and center the both of them, show concern — it's a false start, too, because she's already made it clear she wants her space. ]

I didn't break up with you.

[ The delivery sounds more wounded than he'd intended. The confusion's enough to do that on its own; it feels like she's pulled a rug out from under him, or knocked the wind out of him, or some other completely melodramatic comparison. Hurt aside, it sounds painfully honest. ]

That doesn't make any sense. I just got you back— at home, I mean, not... or you just got me back, but— [ He'd been the one who'd gone missing, technically. That's a stupid detail to get stuck on. Simon crosses his arms over his chest, restless and defensive. There's a pause while he walks back over her words, trying to settle what he knows with the trust that she's telling the truth. Or what she thinks is the truth, anyway. ] Something must've gone wrong. When they woke us up. Maybe we can get them to fix it after— [ They beat the bad guys without dying terribly in the process, hopefully. He isn't quite sure how to sum up the current disaster. ] This.

[obstinance]

[ her anger is difficult to keep fueled, burning at its high point instead of the simmer it wants to dull to, when he's presenting himself as so painfully genuine. not a joke, then, or a prank, or even some mind game invented by a twin of simon — like a bizarro duplicate appearing in this universe would somehow be less nonsensical than his missing memories — which makes this altogether more frustrating for both parties involved.

the hand she runs through her hair says as much if her glance to the side doesn't. avoiding his eyes helps to get the words out with the stern tone she wants to summon, something to broker no argument. ] You did. Maybe you don't remember — for whatever reason — but you did.

[ it isn't a matter of believing he did; it's a matter of knowing he did and being unable to express that without risking the assumption that she's insane, confused, distorted in her memories. she draws in a breath with that thought, turning back to face him directly. ]

There's nothing to fix. [ it's a harsh sentiment, but she works to soften it in voice alone, knowing it might feel like a blade to the back. and in case he doesn't believe he's the one missing fragments of their timeline, she adds, ] Valentine's attack on the Institute happened weeks ago, Simon. How can you not remember?

[bitesexual]

[ He wouldn't break up with her. As confusing as the discrepancy in facts is, that's what he literally can't get past. Or maybe he just doesn't want to imagine a scenario where he'd want to, but either way it's making it difficult to keep his thoughts on track.

Her last comment is the one that draws his attention back, sharp. ] Because it wasn't. It's barely been a few days, they're still cleaning up the— [ Blood and bodies. Not great details, and saying the latter out loud still feels callous. And while there's no questioning her conviction, it isn't exactly easy to toss out what he knows. He didn't forget anything because there's nothing to forget.

There's a long pause while he lets it settle, tries to come up with an explanation. There are a few. None of them make sense, but neither does the planet under their feet. More importantly: trying to come up with valid explanations means accepting that she's telling the truth, which means accepting the idea that he's clearly missed out on a shitty few weeks. ]

What happened?

[obstinance]

[ what happened could be referring to a number of events — the moments leading up to their break-up, the clean up at the institute, valentine's imprisonment and predicted punishment. clary doesn't know where she should even start with spilling details, but she does know where she isn't comfortable beginning; the former seems imperative to keep to herself, as loathe as she is to tell half-truths. ]

Where should I start? [ it doesn't sound sarcastic, just exasperated — weary — like the sigh that leaves her, a silent huff of air that leaves her less coiled like a spring. ] We imprisoned Valentine until he switched bodies with Magnus and escaped, and then we imprisoned him again. We went to the Seelie Court, and that was... not fun.

[ don't expect her to say more than that, lips pressed together as she considers. ]

Jace found out he's a Herondale. Alec took over the Institute. Someone tried to frame you for a murder you didn't commit. [ she has to draw in a breath after the words crash together in her attempt to relay it all, as vague and unspecific as the stories are. ] That covers most of what you missed.

[ nailed it. ]

[bitesexual]

[ No, not even a little bit nailed it, thank you. There's so much to unpack in that quick rundown that it throws him off the trail for a second, though — switching bodies, Seelie Court, Herondale. Alec taking over the Institute, which maybe shouldn't be a huge surprise. Simon's trying to remember what exactly Herondale's supposed to mean (something important, apparently) when she gets to the part about murder. ]

Why would someone— [ This should probably be the priority. It somehow isn't, and he reminds himself that she said tried, which hopefully implies failed. Simon cuts the question off, hands dropping to his sides and closing into fists as he tries to regain some composure.

He's only sort of successful. If anything, the fact that being short with Clary doesn't come naturally is his only saving grace. He could push. Ask why, try to dig out whatever information she's clearly dodging — but he doesn't particularly want to hear it. Hearing it won't make it more real, and it won't make it his own memory.

The consequences are real, though, and Simon swallows as he collects his thoughts, jaw tight while he works through it; Clary wanting space, telling him to back off. ] So you don't want to be with me.

[ The question doesn't feel fair. He isn't going for petty. He's trying to keep his voice steady, his expression even, trying to get an honest answer and regain any kind of footing. If it's guarded, it's because he's bracing for a no. ]

[obstinance]

[ maybe it would be easier if resentment could give way to hate — if she could come to scorn him for it, if simon could come to loathe her. as it stands, it isn't his hatred that she wants, and it isn't cruelty and callousness she wants to dole out. understanding might be more apt for what she's seeking, though she doubts the initial sting of hurt won't cloud his judgement, driven by emotion instead of reason.

it isn't a fair question, but she doesn't suspect that it's said out of bitterness or even an attempt at gaining the upper-hand in an already explosive situation. or implosive for the way the air feels tense, like it could spark and set itself on fire with a single misstep, but that doesn't matter. what matters is her approach and, with it, the truth. ]

You called it a mistake. [ and it had hurt at that time, but it hadn't been an unfair accusation. she won't concede that it had been a mistake, not when she can't regret the experiences or the memories, but she would be deceiving the both of them if she said if she could forget all that's occurred — if she could say that she loves him in the way that he loves her. he hadn't discarded their friendship then, and she can only hope that her honesty now won't be punished with her best friend's back turned on her. ] Trying again won't change anything. It wouldn't be fair to you or to me.

sorry 2 clary

[bitesexual]

[ A no wouldn't have been any easier to process, but it might've been a bit easier to react to. Simon tries to parse the words and dig out the intent underneath, to separate the logic and the way her wording puts it on him — he called it a mistake — and the knee-jerk, impulsive efforts to read into it.

Because really, Clary isn't the one doing it. She isn't making it up. She wouldn't, and that means there's nobody here to blame, nobody he can really demand answers from. Other than himself, apparently, and that's a clear non-starter when all he can think is that he would never say that, would never do that, up until the point that his thoughts cut off and things start to feel numb. ]

Okay. [ The way he says it makes it clear it's the farthest thing from okay. Simon takes another step back, fists and jaw tight, and his gaze drops away from Clary for the first time. The expression on her face isn't great, admittedly; it's too resolved, too hurt and honest for him to humor any doubt. But he isn't entirely sure what she'll find in his own expression, and it's hard to meet her gaze when frustration and pain's starting to fray the edges of his focus.

Waking up on the station had felt like a nightmare. Embarrassingly, this is starting to feel like a repeat. Simon swallows, tries to look back to Clary and say something remotely helpful or reassuring, something that makes it clear he's capable of putting the bigger picture, their safety and everyone else's, above whatever this mess is — but as soon as he does, all he can manage is a short, slightly choked: ] Sorry.

[ And then he's gone. xoxo, vampire speed ]