nysalogs | what is your name? what is your quest?

[ she casts him a withering stare. ]

Quite sure, yes. Everything in here has value of some sort, whether or not you can see it, or they would not have brought it to the archives.

[ and since he's apparently not interested in files (surprise), she will set to rifling through boxes of notes on the shelf behind her. ]

[ Don't give him that look! This box just looks like it's full of junk. Maybe meaningful junk, but still junk.

But he continues to sort through the pieces, setting anything that looks remotely identifiable aside to look at more closely. ]

Maybe if they're working on anything else like the plague...we can get ahead of it this time.

[ None of them need something like that again. ]

That would certainly be ideal..

[ alisaie knows people. she knows war. there is simply no plausible way to get ahead of every threat, every weapon, but by the gods she will certainly try, if she can. anything to lessen the suffering of others, mostly of civilians, those who have no business being part of a war, no reason to be harmed. the memory of that plague still burns like a flame of fury in her heart, even so many months later.

there's nothing of interest in this box, though.. it's all older documents, records of study and experimentation irrelevant to warfare. so she moves on to another box. ]

[ Prompto's search in the box of junk continues - there's really quite a bit in here, and they must've kept it for a reason, but...why? It all just seems like useless, unrecognizable hunks of metal to him. ]

You'd think they'd have a better labeling system. I mean, how is anyone supposed to even know -

[ His words jam in his throat with the next piece he withdraws from the box.

It's - funny, how his mind almost refuses to recognize it for what it is, for a moment. After all, maybe it's just his imagination, a trick of the light, his nerves playing on his worst fears, ghosts in his past. It - can't be what he thinks it is.

But all the same, his fingers tremble as he pulls the piece out of the box, smoothing his fingertips over its contours, eyes and cheekbones and lips, his breathing shallow and uneven.

What...what were they...they couldn't be... ]

[ prompto is a chatty enough boy that his sudden silence is certainly telling. mayhaps he is readying a sneeze? no? when he neither sneezes nor finishes his sentence, alisaie glances up from the files she is rifling through, and studies his profile.

he certainly looks.. stricken, though she cannot parse exactly why. that box seems to have been filled with junk and scrap metal, and he is holding.. a mask, is it? she cannot entirely tell, though that is certainly what it looks like - but she does not understand the significance, or what about it could possibly have shaken him. of course he's told her about his past, but he had not provided detail or clarity enough for her to know just what it is that this thing reminds him of.

and so she looks more than a little bewildered as she sets down the sheaf of papers she'd been holding, and draws up close to him, craning her neck to get a better look at the thing. mayhaps there is something.. inscribed on it? ]

Have you found something?

[ Oh, he's found something alright.

In fact, Prompto barely reacts to Alisaie drawing near, his attention entirely consumed by the piece of discarded metal in his hands, expression pale and inscrutable. He turns it over, fingers running over the places where circuitry would connect, where it would bring this piece of metal to life. Where it's so easily pried away and thrown carelessly into a box of twisted, indistinguishable parts.

His grip tightens around the edges of the piece, knuckles white. ]

They...Evras...was working on something like this?

[ There's a note of quiet rage in his voice. ]

[ would that she had ever seen how his magitek troopers had looked, she might have understood, but as it stands she's still quite flummoxed by his reaction. for a moment she simply looks the thing over - it looks to her like some part of a.. machine, perhaps, something distinctly allagan in nature, or so is the comparison she has been able to draw. unsettling, mayhaps, that they would give it a humanoid appearance, but she has seen similar machines before, magitek contraptions in the shape of men or monsters, but they were only that. magitek. machines.

still, it's clear enough that prompto is incredibly disturbed by the sight of it, and so she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and another over his knuckles. ]

It is only a scrap of metal, dearheart. What is wrong?

[ Only a scrap of metal, she says, and maybe it is. Maybe this isn't what he thinks. Maybe it was all machine, a robot, without a heart or a soul. But then again...so were the MTs, one they'd been stripped of those parts of their essence that made them human. Just buckets of bolts with daemonized souls at their cores. Millions and millions of lives, reduced to just that. A nameless thing behind a metal mask. So replaceable, inessential, trivial.

His voice is still low and tremulous. ]

The troopers of the Empire - the kind I would have become - had faces just like this.

[ And to think Evras might have been involved in something similar takes his crimes to a whole other level.

At last his gaze lifts to Alisaie, the fear and pain and raw anger reflected so clearly in his eyes, in the tight creases at their corners. ]

If he's...creating something like them...

[ Then this is far more horrifying than he previously could have conceived. ]

[ and all at once it falls in to place. given that there are no daemons here, no starscourge, alisaie thinks it is a relatively safe bet that this thing was part of a machine and nothing more - a hauntingly humanoid one, mayhaps - but likely only a machine. no soul, no person within.

still, that won't drive the ghosts from his mind, and there is nothing that can shake him more deeply and thoroughly than a reminder of his origins. her eyes meet his, gentle but firm. ]

If he is, we will not allow it to continue.

[ and, gently squeezing his hand. ]

But for what it is worth, I saw no evidence of anything like that being created during my time here. Machinery, yes, but nothing like a daemon.

[ She sounds so sure as to leave no room for doubt, and her firmness quiets his fears considerably. Perhaps he's overreacting - no, he's almost sure he's overreacting. But there's still that chance that the same sort of horrible operation is going on here than was happening back home, or something similar. If the machine this face belonged to was sentient, if it could think and speak for itself, did it matter if it was only a machine?

A discussion for another time, when they have more evidence, a better understanding of what might be going on here. For now, all they have is this face, and for whatever reason, it must have failed its intended purposes to end up here like this. ]

Then...we need to find out more. Besides how they're...made...if Olympia or Wyver could raise an army like that...

[ Then they're all in a lot of trouble.

Still, he turns his hand beneath his, and squeezes it gently in quiet gratitude for her support, steadfast and constant as always. Having her there for him has changed everything. ]

We will.

[ that is the point of this, after all - to take away evidence, to look deeper into what they might be doing here. a place so big and old as this will have so many secrets that it will be impossible to uncover them all, but still they must try, developed weaponry like this has the capability to do great harm. alisaie has faced it before, magitek armor, colossi, vanguards - should machines like this be developed, it would certainly elevate violence.

gently, she takes the mask from his hands and slips it into her canvas sack, away from his eyes, away from his thoughts. it might feel hard and cold, but now is not the time for uncertainties, once they are out of this place he can navigate his feelings. ]

Let us go rendezvous with the others, and see what they have found.

[ He lets her take the mask without much resistance, and after a moment, he exhales sharply and nods. He can't do this here - they're still short on time, and in constant danger of being caught. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if they got caught now because he's too lost in thought to focus. ]

R-right.

[ He doesn't let go of her hand as he straightens once more. There are other mysteries that they need to uncover, here. ]

what is your name? what is your quest?

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