❪ event ❫ what is the storm—?

[natha]

What is the storm —?     The sky is falling. The moon draws closer, visibly now. Whether you've found out from Nurray, or somewhere else, everyone now knows that in about a week, Thesa will collide with El Nysa. However, not all is lost - Nurray has a plan. Old technology is being powered by the storm somehow, giving the developers in Nadril the means they need to create a device capable of jumping back into the past. The device can only transport to one singular point in time per activation, but passing through is a better chance for safety than remaining. As long as you're in Nadril you'll make it, which is why she'll urge everyone to try to get all their business done and travel back north. At first, it was a mere atmospheric pressure drop. Headaches, a sense of dread in the gut, and a chill that would not be quelled drifted over all of El Nysa's inhabitants. And then the days grew shorter. By hours at a time, until there was nothing left but night. Still lit with stars, people turned to Thesa, to their scholars, to their shamans for answers. None came, only exploding lights in the sky. One by one, stars began to burst, like the grimmest of fireworks. For one dreadful night, the sky was alight once more with the death of the surrounding galaxy as thousands of stars extinguished in a blaze. And then came the lightning, low hanging clouds and whipping wind that howls at all hours. It brings with it calamity, beasts and fog and a reality shattering effect that progresses ever closer. Against these unstoppable odds, the people of Nysa are finally united - desperate, and determined to preserve their homeland. IN WYVER     The life that imbues the jungle town has gone still. Animals do not seek shelter - they simply lay forlorn, lethargic and unresponsive to even their dearest handlers. The wild creatures are no different, with predator and prey supping from the same stream, seemingly resigned. Once vibrant plant life droops, blotted into obscurity by the darkness that surrounds. Only the people of this great kingdom remain lively, though their actions are fueled by desperation, than valor. A rally cry rings out over Wyver, even to Olympia, begging anyone who is able to fight. Beasts no one has ever seen before have begun to attack, roaming the city and the lands surrounding as if it is their hunting ground. These creatures are cobbled together from the many worlds the storm has consumed - perhaps your own included. They could bear familiar technology, animal features, or even a loved one's visage. No matter their composition, they are always amalgamous, and always crazed. The valiant warriors fighting these creatures have more to worry about than just the monsters. Their own bodies may become entangled and fused - an effect that only wears off when one retreats from the storm's epicenter. Specters also drift through the onslaught, oddly peaceful compared to the frenzy surrounding. They are wholly composed people, memories from planets devoured. Someone you know, perhaps, stuck in a loop - the same five minutes - for hours before fading away. They cannot be killed, doing so will simply reset the loop; they will vanish on their own, as mysteriously as they came. I. THE FRONTLINES Wyver might not be able to fully understand exactly what is happening, but they've already assigned a task force to combat these apparitions that have begun plaguing the jungle Kingdom. But the Storm is sentient; it has always gathered what it's known of the habitants of the universes the Storm has swallowed. And as it begins to unravel El Nysa, it will begin to learn of your time here — yes, it knows that you are trying to stop the Storm from happening, somehow. It knows you're looking to fight you way back north, and it simply cannot let that happen. After all, El Nysa is an anomaly created by Darma. All of its inhabitants, organisms, and even existence were not supposed to be. The apparitions start off monstrous at first, taking forms of ghostly bestiaries. Your weapons won't do much to get rid of them — they will disappear, but only temporarily, until they come back. Each time, more evolved than the last — until it's able to take on the form of someone who has left you, someone who has returned to the stasis chambers in Thesa, awaiting to be devoured by the Storm. Your partner will likely be doing the same, haunted by images of their loved ones of the past — and there is a possibility that as you fight along with your partner, that these apparitions will combine into ghastly, wretched creatures, serving no other purpose than to spook you into submission. They will fight you, embrace you, and seduce you into staying. "Let the Storm take care of this," they'd stay — "You've got it all wrong. You and that Witch had it all so, so wrong." Will you make it out of Wyver, or will you let the Storm take you? IN OLYMPIA     All of Olympia is awash in fog. It creeps in around each and every corner, so thick it is almost difficult to breathe, and even more difficult to see. You can hear the panicked citizens all around you, although through the fog, their shapes are indistinct and almost menacing. A family fleeing from something might look like a quick-moving, multi-headed monster, or perhaps a lone man hauling his belongings to safety on his back might appear to be an imposing creature with wicked claws. And then, of course, there are the figures that look achingly familiar to you, like someone you've lost or care for deeply… but then, when you catch up to them, they vanish, only to call out for you from somewhere further in the city. Tread carefully — with your impaired vision, it would be all too easy to inadvertently wind up injured. Of course, this isn't solely due to the hazards obscured by the mist, although that is certainly part of it. The fog has a quality to it that serves to amplify the desires and lower the inhibitions of everyone exposed to it. II. SILENT HILL Similarly, Olympia isn't properly equipped to deal with a crisis like this. Wars, they are certainly accustomed to — but when their very own land is indiscriminately being torn apart by alien forces, it is uncertain to know for sure what they can do. Word from Nadril is that the inhabitants up north has opened its gates for everyone to enter — this is news to Olympia, but they do not hesitate to migrate to the chilly gates regardless. The first obstacle, of course, is to find a way out of Olympia. The fog is debilitating, but you may not immediately notice it. It starts small. A spark of annoyance at getting cut off by someone you barely saw coming might twist itseful up in you until it becomes unbridled rage. Simple fear becomes indescribable terror, and of course, people are at their worst when they are acting on fear. If what you want is an escape, you may find yourself willing and able to do things you simply could not fathom in order to get out of there. If what you want is riches… well, there is plenty of wealth ripe for the taking, should you simply ambush someone fleeing or break into their homes. The longer you spend in the fog, the more difficult it will become to fight back these urges. If the fear doesn't completely paralyze you, you may find that there is a rather unconventional yet risky way of alleviating this ailment -- which might require someone you trust. The thing is, upon holding someone, all of your fears will be transferred unto that person. It will then be your duty, then, to escort them out of the fog before your fears start to completely deteriorate your ally's psyche. Move quickly, or you may both be crumbled by the weight of this Storm and its fog. IN NADRIL     The journey north is treacherous, but not without its own rewards. Nadril is marked by a storm that is raging at the territory's edge, as if the forces of nature are attempting to do away with the border itself. Strangely, the storm seems to be stopped by the borders — electricity crackles in midair as snow and ice whip about, disintegrating when they touch what seems to be an invisible dome sheltering the area. Inside, the weather is even stranger. The iced-over lakes have begun to thaw, and it is warmer and brighter than anyone here can recall it ever being — almost as if it is summer near the Olympia-Wyver border, not the dead of winter near the northernmost part of the isles. There is an almost palpable level of unease as those who live here full-time attempt to adapt to their new climate. Everyone is working, however. At the center of Nadril is what they all hope will be a solution to their problems: they claim it is a time machine, and that they have tested it through simulations and believe that it can, and will, work. They are already using it to help combat the storm at the borders — at times it does manage to penetrate the dome, but when it does, engineers turn back the clock an hour at a time to so that they can divert power to the parts of the shield that they know will need reinforcement. Be careful when this happens — it would be very easy to run into your own double in such a circumstance, and that could be… awkward, until enough time passes to bring you back to the "present" and you merge once more, taking on the memories of everything that you and your double (or triple, or quadruple) have experienced. Operating such a machine will take manpower, which the people of Nadril are prepared to provide. However, the undertakings they will require in the past — waking the gods, who they believe can provide protection from the Storm if you can convince them — will require all of you. Relying on a single person to change history is untenable. Only by working together will you be able to make the jump to the past and secure your future. III. INCEPTION Most importantly, there will need to be volunteers to undergo stasis. Pods that were similar to those in Thesa can be found all over the city center, beckoning people to sleep now, and hopefully wake to better tomorrow. But just as the Storm benefits some technology, it negatively affects others — but this is to do with the mind more than technology itself. For one, those undergoing stasis will find themselves dreaming of a better time in their lives — be it their homeworld or some other happy memory of theirs. The Storm magnifies this dream — everyone within a certain radius will find themselves entering the dream, despite being wide awake. Inside this dream, you will know instantly that something is awry. The events of reality, of the awoken, are beginning to seep into the sleeping person's dream. The lines between dream and reality become blurred, and you've been tasked to ensure that they remain asleep. That means that you must guide them into believing that nothing is awry with their happier memories, that they are not dreaming, and guide them through it. Ensure that the nightmares of reality be kept at bay, and that they may sleep through it all. The Ark of the Woken     The Ark of the Woken awaits, its chambers an imposing majesty of their own. Compared to the sleek design of Thesa, the Ark is a cobbled together patchwork of technology. But even with its exposed wires and manual input systems, Nurray promises it will get the job done. That is, once the pods have been brought to it from Thesa. The targets are Thesans who have previously awoken, however, no one has time to actually inventory the sleeping ones brought to this hamlet. If you choose to bring someone else, you'll probably get away with it. The procedure is harrowing - severing the pods from Thesa runs the risk of interrupting the life support system inside. To compensate, there is a small device that can be hardwired into a port on the back of the pod. It's fragile, and the function it provides only lasts twenty minutes. You have that time to move the pod to a small ship, and pilot it planetside yourself. Nurray suggests traveling in pairs - the Natha duo pilot ships are faster, and more reliable. However, they rely on a neurolink between pilots. If one is not focused, the ship may begin to malfunction. While navigating through rough turbulence, each pilot will be able to feel the others emotions, and hear whispers of their thoughts. All while the storm clouds around them play glimpses into their memories. Snippets, only seconds long, from the perspective of the pilot, provide easy distraction. Stay on task, and make your landing safely - your lives and others are depending on it. A Simpler Time     Your seven days is up. You have (mostly) achieved all your tasks, and you are now waiting. Those harrowing last hour may stay with you forever — while your peers tirelessly secure the time machine's effectiveness, you watch as Thesa draws closer. It's closer to you than you've ever seen it, more menacing than you realize as it threatens the lives of everyone you ever cared for. Alria, the lesser known moon, is first pulled toward Thesa, crushing a side of it. You may witness debris spilling into space and dissipate into the atmosphere. You might think, perhaps, that those were bodies of some you were told not to bring to the Ark. But you're assured many times that that won't matter, that this can be fixed if you simply wait and watch. The time machine will work. It's into the final minute, and time seems to stop — yet, you feel your breath catch as Thesa penetrates the atmosphere. You can no longer breathe, and gravity loses all its bearings on the laws of physics. As you float into the air, you're wondering if the light that engulfs you is an explosion — you might wonder if it could be death. At the very least, you are among people you've known on this planet. It isn't as though you were never meant to survive the first Storm. Simply close your eyes, and the Storm run its course. In the distance, you hear a muted voice. What is the Storm, But an attempt to cleanse the world — Of its anomalies? Open your eyes, Traveler, Where are you now? FINAL OOC NOTES     Welcome to El Nysa, Year XXX. Due to the time warping of the Storm, this event will not strictly follow the 1:1 ratio. Additional information about this world will be revealed early next month! For now, play at your pace. RNG for NPC threads will announced later tonight! RECOMMENDED LISTENING: Live Forever 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

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nadril

[personalwar]

[ It seems that the grand majority of the refugees have made it to the relative safety of Nadril by now, though that's something that Jack is only judging by the general sense of how many familiar faces he's seen wandering around the city. It's not like anyone's taken a role call as far as he's aware, although someone probably should.

Then again, if there is still anyone left outside the dome, it's likely too late for them now. Not a pleasant thought.

He needs to confirm the presence of a few people, however, and Angela falls into that category. She'd set up some kind of makeshift medical facility at the South Outpost, based on her earlier announcement, so chances are that she's done the same here. When he doesn't get an immediate response from her via text, he decides to go looking through the temporary medical tents that have been set up.

Inside of one of them he finds her, sleeping sitting up in a chair, her legs stretched out in front of her. He's seen her like this before, had caught her passed out on her desk more times that he can remember back during the Overwatch days.

So there's something all too familiar in the way he approaches her -- as quietly as someone in combat gear can manage. He reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder and give it a quick squeeze. ]

[cadeuces]

( A role call would be ideal; Angela didn't have the resources to complete one or she likely would have tried, but she ran on far too little sleep and scraped by far too many dangerous run-ins and points emotional exhaustion, both her own and others. She hadn't been able to make contact with everyone she wanted to, and had even been in Wyver. Sidetracked by helping others, and Jack and Gabriel both had slipped through her fingers, but they're far tougher than she is.

If anyone would make it here, it would be them. She has to convince herself not to worry herself down to dust.

He isn't wrong on her initial instincts and she'd forgotten completely about the devices in the hustle. Knowing that she had even unintentionally worried anyone would eat at her some other time.

Right now, however, she's out like a light and that exhaustion creases her face, brow furrowed even in her sleep and clearly fretting whatever has transpired over the last few days even in her dreams. She doesn't have a blanket or a coat over her, further proving that the nap snuck up on her entirely, much as Jack does.

His initial touch is something she twitches from, almost shying away, brow furrowing deeper with a discontent noise low in her throat like a sigh. But it's a few moments before she's stirring, sucking in a slow breath and shifting, lashes fluttering as she exhales and deflates back in her chair.

And realizes someone's touching her. Fighting the haze to resemble something near alert has her turning her head in confusion and trying to push herself upright in the chair she's slumped in, looking around and then finally up— and stiffening when it's Jack she sees, hand immediately going to his wrist to give him a grateful squeeze as worry lines her face. )

Hey— you're all right, thank goodness.

[personalwar]

[ Jack would have preferred to have made contact with Angela prior to reaching Nadril, the messages sent back and forth not nearly enough to give him peace of mind. But just as Angela had been forced to tell herself that they would make it here safely, Jack had been forced to do the same in her case. This would hardly be Angela's first time in a dangerous situation, though even their hairiest missions back home hadn't been anything like this.

Maybe it would have been better to just let her sleep. As much as Angela had once chided him for not taking care of himself, she was almost just as prone to deprive herself of sleep for the sake of the job. Catching any rest like this was a rare thing, something that should be cherished, and yet he's jarred her out of it.

Letting her know that he's all right and also confirming the same about her seems worth disrupting her sleep, though. If he's lucky, maybe he can urge her to find a slightly more comfortable place to lay her head down.

Once he can see that she's waking up, he backs away a step or two, wanting to give her some space. That doesn't stop Angela from reaching out to clutch his wrist—the wrist that had a red vine protruding from it, not too long ago. ]

Yeah. Sorry to wake you, just... wanted to make sure you made it through okay.

[ He doesn't know what it had been like on the Olympia side of things, but likely not any better than the mess that had been Wyver. ]

[cadeuces]

( She had tried— and had to settle for the messages they'd exchanged. It was difficult to stay together with anyone, but there had been signs of her work left all around to confirm her presence if they missed one another.

This had been something that no one here was prepared to face. They had to face it anyway, however, and as far as she's aware, there were no casualties. That's as clean a win as possible.

As for disturbing her sleep, she would have been upset if she'd later found out he'd delayed her the chance at peace of mind even a moment more than necessary. She much prefers being able to see him as soon as possible and know that those important to her are all right. It's why she rises without a fuss, sluggish though she may be, stiff in ways he would have never seen in her before as she gets her feet up under her.

It's also why her arm goes about his waist for a very brief embrace, careful not to squeeze him. There's one swipe of her palm up his back, then a second, and then she lets him go to have a look over him. SEP healing acceleration or no, she has to be sure. )

No, Jack, don't be— thank you for waking me. It's so good to see that you made it. ( There's so many people from her world she may never see again; what few she has here, awake, are more important to her than ever. As for making it through okay... ) I—

( She remembers the visions others were having, the wounds she'd tended to for the natives who were struck down as insidious shapes in the fog by others, Shiro's weight against her when she drug him back from something's attack, wind knocked out of him and on the verge of panic. She remembers the way Tony had squeezed her wrist much the same as she does to Jack, now, securing a tether. A lifeline. Everyone's fears flayed open and laid bare, terrified as paranoia shook through them after for days, never knowing what was real or what was the fog.

She remembers her own isolation, forced on her for hours on end while others were still around her, unable to see or hear them, enshrouding her so thickly no one could hear the little voice that eked out of her when she sought someone, anyone.

Had she made it through okay? She has to draw her hand back before it starts to tremble and he feels it, running her fingers through her hair and resting at her neck, holding herself as she searches for the answer. The amount of time it takes her to formulate the proper words is enough indication that perhaps she hadn't, not entirely. )

...As well as everyone else, I suppose. I've not heard of any missing persons or casualties yet.

( Business as usual. )

[personalwar]

[ Jack is fairly certain that if there were any casualties, someone would have reported it by now. It's hard to believe that everyone had actually made it through that mess, but the refugees are a strong-willed bunch. Besides, even if someone had died, there's a chance that they'd been revived, something that Jack has seen happen with his own eyes and knows to be possible.

Everyone he knows personally is fine, though, Angela being the last person he'd had to validate as alive and well. As expected, she doesn't have any problem with him making the executive decision to wake her. The hug, even if it's only a partial one, is still unexpected. Chances are that it will take him a while to get used to Angela's casual way of handling physical closeness, but she does have the presence of mind to keep it brief.

He watches as Angela struggles for an answer to his question, and while her body language is subtle, it's clear to him that she had a rough time of it. He'd gotten used to reading between the lines when it came to his subordinates, back during Overwatch. All of them had been good people who worked themselves too hard (impossible to imagine where they learned that from) and so he'd had to keep a careful eye on them. Angela had done some of that job when it came to other agents, but she would never apply those same rules to herself. ]

Me neither. It's something. Not sure what to make of Nurray's plan, but...

[ Talking business doesn't seem fair, if Angela's still shaky. He takes a look around the tent, then back to her. ]

We should find a better place for you to sleep. And if you're up for it, I'd like a report of whatever happened.

[ It's rare that Jack ever pulls rank these days, as he isn't a commander anymore, but he's willing to bend the rule if it will get Angela to open up about what she went through that's got her feeling so off. ]

[cadeuces]

( Don't worry, Jack, you're not the only person to get an easy embrace— she's dished out dozens in the last few days, even to complete strangers. Tactility makes the world go 'round. Accept her gladness in a touch along your back and hold onto it for the tougher days.

She tries to be honest with him, but it's difficult when their relationship has always had particular barriers between them. If he doesn't open up to her, she'll try not to overload on him. Still, he notices. The second she feels his eyes on her she knows she's given something away, not that she was especially careful to hide it in the first place. )

Nurray... Right, from the broadcast. Everyone evacuated here, but no one seems certain of what the plan is from here. The message kept scrambling, or so they were saying. Do you know of it?

( That notice follows through in the way he phrases his request, an offer to help before a "report", and she belatedly tracks his gaze as he'd looked around the tent, first.

Right, she'd drifted off in the chair. She already knows she won't reveal everything to him, for fear of burdening him with things he needn't carry on his shoulders (namely, herself), but she could tell him a little bit. She can think on which parts to reveal as the most useful to him as they go. )

I'm all right here, Jack. Someone has to stay in case any more wounded arrive. I've slept in worse places. But I have coffee, if you'd like to sit. We can go over what we both have seen.

( His concern is appreciated, though. The look she gives him is apologetic for not opening up to him further, but it begs understanding with the little lopsided smile. That she isn't doing it because she doesn't trust him; it's out of mutual concern. He's had a hard enough go of the last handful of years, and he isn't sharing that with her. She doesn't know where his thresholds are, so she doesn't push them at all.

Maybe one day, hopefully sooner rather than later. )

[personalwar]

[ There's no denying that there's still a layer of professionalism between them, even though Jack stopped being Angela's commander a long time ago. That's something she isn't going to be able to forget so easily, as much as he'd prefer it. Then again, it's not like he knows how exactly to engage with her now either, which is why he's fallen back on some old habits.

When she asks about Nurray, Jack is quick to nod. He hadn't missed the chance to have a direct conversation with her, aware of how rare of a chance it was, even if the connection hadn't been great. ]

Her plan is to send us all back in time.

[ Jack doesn't keep the skepticism out of his tone, and he gets the feeling that Angela will feel the same way about it. This isn't something they really dealt with back home, at least not on this scale. Oxton's situation had been different. Keeping one person anchored in time is different than sending a large group of people into the past for the sake of preserving their future.

Unsurprisingly, Angela doesn't take his offer to lead her somewhere more comfortable to get at least a few hours of rest. The question then becomes when will she let herself sleep, but he can bring it up again later, after they've had their talk. With a short nod, he walks over to a nearby table. It's round, only big enough to fit three chairs around it, and rickety ones at that. Probably borrowed from someone's home when the medical tents were set up.

Jack settles onto one of the chairs, not as interested in the coffee but he isn't going to stop Angela from grabbing some for them. ]

This isn't all on you, you know.

[ There are other people, doctors and healers alike, who can take over for her at least for a few hours. But Jack can already guess Angela won't hear him out on that point. ]

[cadeuces]

( It isn't so much that he was her commander (she'd been insubordinate enough and pushing her opinions on him as if he were any other colleague, let's be real), but that he's someone she respects. The reverse is likely that she had been under his wing as one of his agents, and it's difficult to keep yourself aloft with authority if you keep swooping down to eat with the rest of the pack even as often as he already did.

He had been a good "boss". That's why she's held onto that respect all these years and will still care for him as a friend at the end of the day. They'll figure it out. Until then, they'll keep to this dance of old habits and half-truths, doing their best to communicate even so. )

Send us back— ( The furrow of her brows only shadows her confusion deeper, plenty skeptical. If such a thing were possible, then why not save the destroyed planets? Why not leave them home? ) —how far? Is that even possible?

( She could be coerced to go somewhere else eventually, most like, but not for the span of this conversation. Not when he's sufficiently waking her up, leaving her alert as he moves off to sit at the shoddy excuse for a table, but it was enough to hold a first aid kit or a few plates to eat at without toppling. She follows with uncertainty weighing down her steps, slowing her, but she gathers up the thermos she'd kept brewed coffee in and pours it in the cup lid. She only has the one, so she offers it to him first as she joins him at the table.

He says it isn't all on her, but she fixes him with an exasperated little look and makes a gesture at the rest of the tent. )

No?

( "Then where is everyone?" it seems to imply. She's the only one here for now, and no one had responded to her network posting. People had acted on the information posted, certainly, and a few others had held down the fort when she ventured into Wyver from the south outpost she'd set up at with little enough first aid knowledge, but there were few enough of proper caliber to go around for the hundred-some refugees here and countless natives traveling alongside them.

There's no scorn in it; this is her job of choice and she willingly dives into the fray time and again with a fearlessness that could certainly be commended, even if it wears her down. She just usually has some modicum of privacy to be exhausted where no one can see, and that's incredibly difficult to find, here. )

[personalwar]

[ It had been a hard balance to strike. Jack had been forced to keep some level of professional distance between himself and his agents, but he'd also cared for all of them almost as if they were family. Again, not that he would have ever said it that way, knowing that there were certain lines you didn't cross with subordinates. They'd been the only family he had, though, and he had never been able to turn them away when they came to him with concerns. A leader who wouldn't consider the opinions of his followers wasn't much of a leader at all.

Now Angela isn't his subordinate, but rather a previous colleague who he also respects greatly. That being said, he still feels as if he owes a lot to her, given how he'd handled the aftermath of Overwatch's fall. Not just to her, but she happens to be the one who's awake now, for him to answer to.

He doesn't understand the nitty-gritty details of time travel any better than Angela, and he shakes his head and shrugs when she asks her questions. He has no idea how this is going to work, or if it's going to work at all. How much the machine can handle in terms of transporting a large number of people backward in time, he has no idea and couldn't even begin to wrap his head around.

He'd rather not take anything on faith, or accept it just because someone else tells him it'll work, but their hands are tied here.

When the cup lid's offered, Jack takes it and sips at it slowly, the warm coffee a lot more comforting that he'd been expected. Angela makes the point that she really is the only one on-hand right now to take care of the wounded, and he can't argue. No doubt others will trickle in, the Sanctuary had always had at least a few healers working among its ranks, but for now she has to man the fort. ]

Even you have your limits.

[ He closes his eyes, takes another sip, and then gets right back to his question from before. ]

So what happened?

[cadeuces]

( Well, that's something she can understand. Angela hadn't exactly put up a barrier before they became her family, however, so he is counted among that, of course, commander or no. They were all she had as well.

The fact that he continues to seek her out and is, however slowly, trying to open up to her, is all the repayment she needs. He doesn't owe her anything else. All she wants is the chance to be his friend again and help him where she can, as someone who has earned it, however he may argue otherwise.

Pot, meet kettle.

She only sighs to his shrug because this has been a mess from start to finish, as most disasters are, and she's yet to have a glance at the machine herself. Not that she'd even know where to begin with it, really. She's only just getting the basics of cybernetics down; it didn't make her some engineering whiz.

Once he's taken a few good swallows, she's holding a hand out to ask for it silently to have a sip of her own before she'll pass it right back to him, glancing back over the tent and the few laid out on cots, resting. Some had been hurt all the way down in Wyver, some in Olympia struck down in the fog by their fellow natives, others still not able to take the strain of the fast-paced evacuation and march toward the north. There may not be many here, just yet, but she had sent far more on their way after tending to smaller injuries and she still had to stick by those here and be on hand if any of them called out for anything.

With a wry smile, she offers back: )

Mm, but I've not reached them just yet.

( She can't. Not until someone else is around to mind the patients. Whatever smile had been there falls when he asks again what had happened, on the way here, and she continues to look off across the tent as her hands come to fold in her lap, squeezing her fingertips where it's almost entirely out of sight. After a moment of parsing memories and clipping unnecessary details out, she begins, voice soft as she meets his eyes again. )

I was in Olympia when the announcement went out, and the storm began. It started in Wyver so I set up an aid station at the south outpost, as I'm sure you saw, where evacuees would be safe before moving on. Once a few others were around to help, I went in when I hadn't heard from you or Gabriel. I helped stabilize someone I'd met before and when we couldn't find anyone else, headed back through the outpost, packed up, and pulled back to Olympia.

I helped set the torches through the city and— ( Finally fell prey to the fog, believing for hours she'd been abandoned. Left behind. That at any moment the things in the fogbank would rend her to pieces. She can't even look at him, knuckles white where she's squeezing her own hands and fingertips pink as blood pools to the pressure. Get past it, Angela. ) ...

...I did what I could for those who needed it. I was there for... ( Enough, she can't remember the count. She'd helped enough. ) I was there for others. We got through it.

( However barely. The more she speaks, the more she realizes none of it was particularly helpful to him. All it laid out was that the attacks began in Wyver and chased those who evacuated, and she'd assisted in the path of safety up through to the north outpost. From there, everything feels like a blur. She has no information, no mysteries uncovered. She was just tired. )

[personalwar]

[ It's difficult to know how much time the two of them will actually get to talk, when Angela's on call for a whole host of patients and someone else could be dragged in here at any moment and need to be attended to. Jack has no intention of getting in the way of her work and will remove himself as soon as that becomes the case, but for now they at least have a few moments to check in. May as well make the most of it.

He doesn't hesitate to hand the coffee back to her when she reaches out for it, unperturbed by the idea of sharing. This is the sort of thing that's commonplace on battlefields the universe over, he would imagine.

Angela insists that she hasn't yet hit her limit, but she would say that no matter what, given the circumstances (that is, that there's no one to relieve her). The least Jack can do is make sure that she doesn't overdo it and completely burn herself out, assuming it isn't too late for that. With Angela, it's always a little hard to tell.

When she begins to answer his question, Jack leans forward slightly in his seat, wanting to take note of every word. But Angela manages to say a whole lot while not telling him much at all. It's true that he hadn't been able to reply to her messages at first, busy with the constant monster attacks, and by the time that he did get in contact with her, she had already taken action. She really doesn't tell him anything he doesn't already know, though, and that's purposeful. Those few moments of hesitation, the aversion of her eyes, he catches.

He isn't going to try and force it out of her. There would be no point, especially when she's distracted by the patients who need her attention, but he isn't going to forget either. She may not want to be open with him, and Jack knows better than most how easy it can be to bottle things up and shove them to the back of your mind. He would be a hypocrite to demand she share with him, of all people.

While he can hope that Angela might have someone else she can share this with, or lean on, he knows that's probably not the case. She wouldn't want to burden anyone. ]

It's been an exhausting week. Especially given that you only just woke up.

[ Stating the obvious, but he's at a loss of what else to say at first. ]

Didn't mean to be incommunicado, either. It was just a mess out there.

[cadeuces]

( Jack is right on that, and it's likely the reason she hesitates to share much. Avoiding that inevitable upset in the event someone storms in needing help, and she gathers the coffee back in her hands to warm them for a few moments, taking a few little sips. It's almost a shame he knows her so well.

It makes it difficult to hide from him. So after a few long moments of admitting as much as she had and seeing the intent way he leans forward to listen, and she feels badly for not sharing with him. It felt too much like distrust, and that isn't the case in the least. Angela had been shaken, and she had taken heart in finding someone else to turn her attentions on and help, and that someone had traveled with her all the way from Olympia to here before they parted ways, scarcely ever letting go of one another in the interim. It felt strange, after those few days, not having the warmth of someone's arm hugged to her side. )

No, Jack, I know what everyone was facing out there, it's just— ( It's just... what? Admitting it feels like believing the worst of her old comrades. But she continues. ) —it made me believe I'd been abandoned. That the entire continent had left me behind. I was stuck there for hours.

( She has to set the coffee back down before her hands tremble, metal rattling briefly against the wood as she stabilizes it and lets go, then clutches her own fingers in her lap as she looks down. Away. Her brows furrow, trying to concentrate on containing it. )

...It's one of those fears that develops the more you see it. That you'd be trapped under some rubble, meant to be the one saving others, but no one can find you. I... ( All she can do is shake her head. It was slow to trickle out, belated, and she doesn't reveal what she had seen for others, but she can at least do this much. The last thing she wants is him or Gabriel thinking she doesn't trust them, even though she knows the reverse is partially true. She understands it and that things like this are the planks that serve to bridge it. )

[personalwar]

[ As it turns out, Angela opens up without him even having to press her further. Maybe it just comes out before she can really stop herself, or maybe she feels bad for keeping it from him. Not that she should, given that he'd hidden from her for so long.

What she's describing is something he can sort of relate to, though. This is what had happened in the "fog," is that it? It's what Moira had described, invisible enemies, or so Jack guesses. He could never get all the details out of Moira, and in her case it was absolutely intentional. Still, for Angela to feel that she'd been trapped and abandoned, that she was going to be left behind because no one could find her, Jack's experienced that.

In the rubble of headquarters, half-buried under debris after the explosion, his face and the rest of his body flooded with pain. Feeling like he'd lost the last friend he had left, once and for all. He still can't completely recall how he'd found the willpower to drag himself out, after all that.

He cuts in when she runs out of words, shutting his eyes as he speaks. It's hard to look at her when he admits this. ] Yeah. I've been there. [ He doesn't know that he needs to say anything more than that, for her to understand.

It's not that he doesn't trust her. Angela is a trustworthy person, and always has been. It's that telling her everything isn't that easy for him. He'd never been that good at expressing himself, or admitting to the tough times he was going through. He'd done it more with her than most, because she'd insisted on it as a healthcare professional, but...

Even if it's only in starts and stops, at least they're talking to each other. It seems worth doing, when they don't know if this crazy time travel plan will even work. ]

[cadeuces]

( It's a bit of both, more the latter than the former. She doesn't like keeping secrets about herself from those who should likely know them. Especially Jack, when they're here in this place and there's so few of them awake. He deserves that much from her, whether he thinks as much or not.

It doesn't occur to her at first that that was exactly what had happened to him, in the Swiss Headquarters. It takes her a moment after he says he's been there, and her hand comes right up to cover her mouth as the other reaches to cover his nearest arm, appalled with herself. That's how out of it she was, and that's the sign she needed to know just how far she's strayed from "alright". That she isn't fit to be caring for others when she's this twisted up over something, even days later, unable to shake it.

That she needed some proper sleep lest it continue to affect her judgment. )

Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean— of course you have. ( She curses under her breath in her own tongue, muffled enough that even the translation can't keep up as her touch skates right down his arm to find his fingers, giving them a squeeze. She doesn't know how else to convey how apologetic she is for even bringing it up— for making light of it as her worst nightmare, and still escaping it otherwise unscathed when he hadn't nearly been so lucky.

That he'd even replied was huge, on his part, and she realizes that as well. (You did good, Jack. She'll thank him later for telling her.) Instead that hand over her mouth moves into her hair, cradling her temple, but she doesn't let go of his hand. Honestly, maybe that's where the fear really dug in its talons. Having to see those scars etched across his face and having imagined it, how he must have had to dig himself out and drag himself off to safety.

He's a far stronger person than she is, even in spirit. She knew it before and it continues to hold true. He lets onto something so traumatic with minimal hesitation and doesn't even balk to it. )

That was so careless of me... I suppose I really do need to rest.

( But she's glad they're talking. She's glad he's here, and safe, and she doesn't know what she would have done if she'd never found him here. If she'd lost him again. )

[personalwar]

[ It's not that Jack had in any way intended to make Angela feel bad by bringing up his own experience. It had been a way to commiserate, to let her know that he had some idea of what she'd experienced, if she needed or wanted to talk about it more. Instead, he ends up making her feel worse, like she'd been inconsiderate for not thinking of his situation, which isn't what he'd meant to do.

This could easily turn into some vicious cycle of one apologizing and the other insisting that it's okay, which doesn't seem productive either. Jack's eyes flick to Angela's hand as she grabs his arm and then squeezes his fingers, yet another way of expressing her regret at causing him to remember a traumatic experience.

Then again, it's not like he ever really forgets. Sometimes he still has nightmares about that day, but he definitely isn't going to mention that to her.

Maybe Angela's experience had all been an illusion, but it had felt real at the time, and so Jack doesn't view it as her making light of things. She'd struggled to even tell him in the first place, and he doesn't want to dissuade that kind of behavior. The one good thing about all this is that it's forced Angela to acknowledge her own tiredness. Jack knows that she probably won't agree to leaving this area, but maybe there's somewhere around here she can rest (somewhere better than a chair, that is). ]

You don't need to apologize. I was just...

[ But he shakes his head, not wanting to get into it now. He'd rather focus on the possibility of Angela getting some sleep, and he takes another look around them. It looks like most of the cots here are already taken by the injured, but maybe there are others being stored in a different part of the tents. ]

Is there somewhere around here you could go catch some sleep? I can keep an eye on things out here and I'll wake you up if there are any emergencies.

[ It seems like a fair trade-off to him, anyway. Jack hadn't intended on staying here long, but it's not as if there's anywhere that needs his attention more, given their current situation. ]

[cadeuces]

( She knows it hadn't been malicious, or even an attempt to make her feel guilty— it had been a simple statement of understanding, but she quite naturally thinks well beyond that point. In every facet she's empathetic, always thinking of the impact on others, even if her wires are a bit crossed and it comes across fuzzy and slow right now.

Needless to say, it isn't something she'd be delving into with him, not of her own accord. Not on her behalf, at least. The last thing anyone needs is to be alone with their traumas or to be reminded of them by others, and she doesn't want to do that to him. Not ever. She wants to be open with Jack so he'll be open with her, if he ever needs it, and this was one faltering step closer to that even if she stumbled. She'll take it as a win later, when she has the chance to mull back over it with a clear mind.

(And that is also when the appreciation will come in, blooming and bright. For what he'd shared with her and for keeping an eye out for her.)

He gives up whatever he'd been about to say, but she thinks she can infer it easily enough. It's what she already knew his intention had been. )

I know. You were just letting me know you understood. I still should have thought not to mention it. ( She doesn't want him having to go over those memories, especially not for her sake. But she finally lets go of his hand and when he prompts her for somewhere to rest, her eyes scan over the immediate surroundings. There's only a few empty cots... She doesn't necessarily want to take one, but she doesn't want to be far away either. If someone needed it, she'd be awake the moment they're entering the tent anyway, so it could be given up without a fuss.

And then he offers to be the one to wake her, intending on sticking around, and she really shouldn't be surprised. So what she offers instead is a tired little smile and climbs to her feet, weight heavy on the hand she pushes up from the table with, one leg bent just enough to flex her ankle and bring some feeling back to a numb leg. She must have locked her knee straight out. ) Are you sure you want to stay? If I turn into Dornröschen and try to sleep for 100 years, you'll have to line up a prince to wake me.

( Which is, you know, her roundabout way of playing off that she's more trouble than it's worth and he shouldn't have to put up with any more problems. Let Jack Rest NkXX, Chairman of the Board. )

[personalwar]

[ In Angela's defense, it had been Jack pushing her to tell him what happened that had led to this moment, the "stumble." If he hadn't pressed the issue, she wouldn't have brought it up, so there's really no reason for her to feel bad about it. Now she at least knows she's not alone when it comes to that particular fear, even if Jack hadn't admitted to it in so many words.

When Angela makes to stand, Jack mirrors her, ready to follow her to wherever she plans to lay her head down and make sure that she actually keeps to her word. He doubts that she'll stray far from the patients, but he at least wants to verify where she'll be resting if he needs to go wake her.

At her question, Jack quirks a smile and shrugs his shoulders. He won't be the one to kiss her awake for a whole number of reasons, but that doesn't mean there aren't other options to choose from. ]

I'm sure I could find someone. There's plenty of strapping young men around here who are all too eager to help.

[ Especially if helping meant kissing someone like Angela. This is, of course, still teasing, but it turns out that Jack is still capable of that sometimes. It also helps to take some of the tension out of the conversation, after that rocky moment earlier. ]

[cadeuces]

( There is that much, not being alone in yet another struggle— they both had that now, at least. Angela stands and Jack follows, and it gets a softer smile from her, gathering a blanket along the way and meandering toward one of the easiest-access cots so she wasn't stumbling over anyone else on her way to the tent's entrance.

Her weight nearly drops to the flimsy cot mattress with little enough of her usual grace, but she catches herself as her knee comes down and she gets an arm under her to brace the way her hips lower down, legs curling up first and easing the rest of the way.

He followed her, so she stays facing him. And then she sets about covering herself with the blanket she'd snagged along the way, never so much as folding down the cut she lays on top of so it could remain ready for whoever needed it next. She probably should have grabbed another, but she's down now and she won't be getting back up. )

I can always trust you to have my back, it seems.

( "Even beyond the grave", it nearly implies, with what would surely be an easy tease. But she's exhausted and it simply wasn't in her, and her head sinks into the pillow as she keeps watching him for what he'll choose to do, curled up tight under the blanket. But what she really means to say is: )

Thank you.

[personalwar]

[ Strange as it might seem to be more or less putting Angela to bed, Jack finds that it's necessary to be sure that she'll actually take care of herself. There had been at least a few times when she'd escorted him back to his quarters at HQ because she wanted to be certain he got the rest she was prescribing, so in that sense, he's only repaying the favor. Years after the fact, but still.

It's that gap in time that makes Jack frown at Angela's statement about him always watching out for her, as that hadn't been the case in so long. She'd handled herself just fine in the aftermath of Overwatch, but Jack finds it hard to believe that there weren't times when she could have used his help, moving around through the Middle East.

There's no sense in trying to correct her now, though. She's already on the cot, blanket over her, halfway to sleep. Yet she manages to thank him all the same. Jack sighs and shakes his head to himself. ]

Least I could do. If you need anything, I'll be within earshot.

[ Which is a further distance for someone who's got enhanced hearing, but the point still stands. Once Angela's eyes have fallen closed, he moves back to the table they'd been sitting at and the waiting cup of coffee, ready to take his shift watching over things in the tent. ]

[cadeuces]

( At least he isn't tucking her in, though she makes no promises on not taking the chance if roles ever get reversed. He's right that if he hadn't walked her over she very well would have snuck back out of it, but now that she's laying down, there's no fighting the heaviness of her lids or the comfort of even a shoddy mattress and the blanket that isn't quite warm enough in the cold here, only seeming to have the energy to shiver the once before relaxing further into the cot.

Perhaps he hadn't had eyes on her back in some years, but the fact of the matter is now that they're in one another's peripheral, they fell right back into old habits at least in that regard. They still care. They're still family. Nothing would change that.

He mentions anything he could do, and one slender hand slips back out from under the blanket to reach for him, just for a moment, with some soft little hum to acknowledge the offer. She won't keep him tethered there at her bedside, but just one thankful squeeze of his fingers and she'd be content.

In fact, she drifts right off the moment her fingertips leave his if he allows her to, but even if he doesn't, her arm falls heavy over the metal rod frame after holding the reach for two seconds, three. It was all she'd had left in her. )