nysalogs | [ OPEN ]

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ]

Who: Ardyn Izunia (

daemonized) & YOU!
When: Event things! All throughout October.
Where: All around.
Warning(s): None... yet. Will add if necessary.

i. market district;

[He wasn’t nearby when the explosion had shook the market district, though panic spreads quickly, and the aftermath of such an event is impossible to ignore. Even more so for Ardyn, being part of the royal guard — being delegated orders to provide aid and investigate, it is his own curiosities that truly drive him farther into the area to assist. Granted, his form of “assistance” might be lacking compared to those who are rushing to and fro, enveloped in a frantic need of wanting to help. Instead, it’s easier for him remain calm, more unaffected, eyes taking in the area with a sense of detachment that’s perhaps less than appropriate for the situation at hand. If you need to talk to him, he’s easy enough to spot in the crowd. More specifically, a few things that take place are:

A.) An elderly man, a vendor whose wares had been toppled over completely in the explosion, requires help retrieving his goods now strewn all about the street. Textiles and clothing of various colors, one of which seems to hang high up, caught on the corner of a rooftop of a nearby building. It billows, not unlike a flag flying in the breeze. Ardyn cranes his head up to look at it. Then he says, to the person closest to him:]

Be so kind as to retrieve that for me, will you? I’ve already my hands full.

[And so it seems he does, various unravelled yards of cloth hanging over his arm.

B.) There are, of course, looters. As to be expected, people who would take advantage of tragedy for their own benefit, and the ironic part is that Ardyn generally would not care. And yet there are a couple of young men who are being so bold as to do so right in front of him — only down the street, where they appear to be scrounging around another vendor’s (not currently present) property: an array of decorative items, small enough to be thrown into a bag and carried off nonchalantly. Covered in filigree and adorned with precious gems. Certainly possessing high enough market value to sell for a quick profit.

It’s easy enough for Ardyn to close the distance, of course. A flash of magic, sword in his hand, and suddenly he’s warped from where he was standing to directly in front of one of the men — blade pressed up against his throat. The other looter freezes in shock, mid-crouch, in the midst of picking up a shiny bauble to steal.

The smile Ardyn gives them is… amused, but a little disconcerting.]

At least wait until the cover of night like proper thieves.

[If the second man is slowly reaching for a dagger at his hip, there’s zero indication of Ardyn either noticing or caring. What do you do, passerby?]

ii. red light district;

[Now it’s time for an investigation proper, and who says that all manner of secrets and rumors do not eventually make their way to the red light district? This is where you can find Ardyn tonight, skulking through alleyways and hovering near the edges of crowds, sometimes asking around, sometimes not. He is, of course, dressed in plain clothes, a hundred times more subdued than his usual tastes. No guard uniform, no outfit from Eos to turn any heads. Only Ardyn, looking like a commoner, hair tied back. His only indulgence is a maroon scarf, hanging loosely around his neck.

He is absolutely drawn to the sight of individuals speaking in hushed whispers, for often times they are not being as discreet as they believe. This time, it’s two women, huddled in an darkened alleyway, and Ardyn eyes them from where he stands. He catches something about “Wyver”, but will have to draw closer to hear anything more.

Are you a fellow refugee wanting to unravel this mystery further? Join him in figuring out a creative way to move closer without drawing any unwanted attentions. The women do seem to be on the lookout for anyone snooping around. Alternately, he may speak to you first, muttering:]

Just how inconspicuous can you be?

iii. wildcard;

[Open for future threads, or any prompts that you’d prefer to play out if none of these work! I can be found at aurajen to plot further if you’d like!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He listens, trying to imagine all those scenarios placed before him. Would he had been seen as angelic? He had already been viewed as a savior, people lauding him for his efforts at saving them from illness. But how very quick they were to turn on him, when they saw even the smallest hint of something dark churning within him. That very same darkness that he saved them from.

But he decides to venture down another avenue in the conversation.]

There have been women rulers in the past, you know. They were revered and loved all the same, even if they had a few flaws in their personalities. And the Oracle, the girl I showed you in the pods... she is a healer, as well. The people's perception of her had not been so tainted, though perhaps it was only a matter of time, if it had not been cut so short.

[You know. If he hadn't have.....killed her.]

[She thinks of Catherine the Great, now remembered only as a punchline for lewdness. She thinks of Marie Antoinette, rendered a selfish and silly caricature. She thinks of Cleopatra, renowned for her looks and ignored for her intelligence; she thinks of Comstock and his beloved religion, which vilified Eve and held up Adam as a paragon of virtue.

Oh, yes. There have been powerful women in the past. But just because they obtained power doesn't mean they escaped the fate Rosalind described.

But perhaps it had been different in his world. She isn't so bitter as to think all the universes in all the worlds are so predictable.]

Were they all held to the same standards as your kings, then?

I would think so.

[Where the Lucis Caelum line was concerned, male and female did not matter. In the end, they would all ascend with the Crystal and become fearsome things to guide the generations to come.

He digs back in his memories to think of an example, and for once, sets aside his bitterness to recite it.]

There was a Queen known for being just, for being peaceful and kind. She was loved by everyone, and do you know what she would carry into the battlefield? A shield as big as herself, tall and silver and gleaming. Legend says that no one weapon could pierce it, that no man could flank her. She was a bulwark, an unrelenting force. Pummeling enemy after enemy -- or monster after monster -- with it, never requiring a sharpened edge, only her own strength and willpower.

That is a legacy worthy of being left behind. More fearsome than most kings of old, I think. Worthy of more respect than most men in general. A Queen, indeed.

[She's silent for a few seconds after he finishes. It's an addicting story, she has to admit. A woman not only fierce and bold, but unrepentant for it, and further, respected for it. She can't imagine . . .

Mama says, “It's not a fit occupation for a lady,” Constance Field had written her, and Rosalind had never replied faster than she had that letter. Throwing yourself into a masculine field had its consequences; you were forever branded by it. You became a trailed off sentence, a knowing look: of course she's good at what she does, but . . .

But she's only a woman. But she's tainted. Because she's not one thing nor the other, feminine or masculine; because gender roles are what they are, and anyone attempting to break out of them had to be damn certain of what they were doing.]

Did you know her?

Personally? No, I didn't.

[He had no reason to remain at all familiar with the royal family.]

Not exactly the social circles I ran in at the time, you understand.

There's a pity.

[It's not as if she can simply zip off and visit the woman herself, not anymore; it would have been nice to hear a personal account of what she'd been like. But such is life.]

. . . a pity, too, all our worlds are destroyed. I should have liked to have visited, if your universe was truly so equal.

You would've liked Eos, I think.

[He looks head of them, still walking, but imagery of his world flits through his mind.]

Years ago, at least, I think you would have. It was, admittedly, a striking place. Filled with landscapes that would make painters cry. Technology that continued to grow at an alarmingly rapid pace, and magic thrumming through the world's very soul.

Almost enough to make a man miss it.

[No place is perfect, and she knows she'd be a fool to buy into this image. Perhaps he's telling the truth, but every silver lining has a cloud; surely there were things she'd resent there, things she'd despise.

But it sounds wondrous, doesn't it . . .

So did Columbia, she chides herself.]

Almost? Such a loving description . . . I should think you do, at least a bit.

I miss it only in that if I were there again, I would not be so uprooted as I am now.

[And that's the truth.]

But what I described to you exists no longer. It is... was in no state to feel nostalgic about, so the point is moot. Never mind what the others might say.

[You know, like stubborn little Prompto.]

[Don't insult the baby, she likes the baby, he's so unfailingly earnest and sweet . . . it's like encountering a unicorn, it really is . . .

But mm, she knows what he means. She'd been ostensibly uprooted even before Nysa, but that had been a state of being entirely within her control. This was forced upon her, and she's still growing used to it.]

And if you could go back to that state, however many years ago it was . . . would you?

[An immediate answer:]

No. That would rather defeat the purpose of everything.

Meaning?

Meaning... why would I want to return to a state of the world that had undone everything that I worked for? I am a patient man, but even that would make me quite frustrated, to see the sun shining in the sky once more.

[Just like he was frustrated to find out that all of those from home do not remember that eternal night.]

[She falls silent again, contemplating that answer, trying to find a comparison in her own life.

Perhaps, she eventually decides, it's a little like Robert, eager to rejoin Columbia for the sole purpose of starting a family. Rosalind hadn't been opposed to the idea in principle (that is to say, adding a third person to their lives), but to go back, to instantiate themselves within Columbia and pretend not to know what was to come . . .

It would feel false. Like a parody of a life.]

You never told me, you know . . . what your intended outcome was in regards to that eternal night.

I did know someone who tried something along the same lines. And her motivation was ostensibly religious fervor, though I suspect her true reasons lay more in trained obedience.

The intended outcome was that the world should languish and wane in the dark. Eos, that precious star that the gods wished to protect. How it must have made them despair, to see it fall to ruin.

I had been waiting, too, for someone. He sleeps in the pods once more, now.

[But enough about him!]

You said this woman tried to accomplish the same thing. Did she fail?

[gotta level up to access more of his tragic backstory]

Ultimately, yes. Ultimately, Robert and I ensured that the pieces fell into place in such a way that she never even had the motivation to do such a thing in the first place.

[That's selling Elizabeth a bit short; she played a great hand in her own rescue. But that's not intended as an insult on Rosalind's part; time travel is confusing, and she's not going to explain that without the aid of a blackboard.

Oh, and DeWitt helped. A little. She supposes.]

Rather as if we'd interfered . . . oh, perhaps even before you became a healer at all, I think.

[And for a man like Ardyn, the only question worth asking in response to that is:]

And why did you want to stop her at all?

[Ah, and here it is: one of those rare moments when we becomes he and I. Rosalind looks just a touch uncomfortable at that, displeased by any division between her and her Robert.

Carefully, then:]

You don't think saving the world motivation enough?

That depends. Did you really deem the world worth saving?

[Her, very specifically.]

[She smiles, and it's not happy, exactly, but it's nice to talk to someone so clever. It's almost relieving, really, to be called out like that, because it means Ardyn is smart enough to catch the manipulation in her words.]

No. I would have been content to let it burn. But Robert was not.

[Weaving words for the sake of misdirection and manipulation? She's speaking to someone who's been doing that for so many, many years. It isn't hard to pick at the words which stand out to him; it's almost second nature at this point.]

But you deferred to him anyway. Why is that?

[Because he would have left her otherwise. Because he loves her so very much, but what she can ignore, his developed sense of morality cannot. Because he issued her an ultimatum of the one thing that truly terrified her, and she gave in not an hour after it was issued.]

You're clever, and I think it would be dull to give you all the answers. Why don't you give me your best guess?

[The answer he would give already floats about in his head, but he was willing to give the her the benefit of the doubt.

After all, his reply makes it sound less than flattering.]

Because love is an awful, powerful emotion that controls us more than we control it. But do feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

[No, that's it precisely. Or, well . . . yes and no. She had acted out of selfishness, and that selfishness was born of love. She hadn't done it to please Robert, but to ensure he stayed at her side.]

I did not defer to him. He gave me a choice, and I decided keeping him at my side was worth the tediousness of attempting a long and somewhat impossible task.

You speak with some authority, Mr. Izunia. Is that an analysis based on experience?

But the choice may as well have been decided before the words were even uttered. In that way, it is not so much deference as it is...

[Mm. What's the word.]

Inevitability.

[At her question, he has to scoff.]

I'm more than two thousand years old, Madam Lutece. My authority over the various modes of human emotion runs the gamut.

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