EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

[diceofthegods]

A CRASH IN THE NIGHT

In the dark hours of a snowy early morning, a sudden BOOM can be heard all across Town. It is swiftly followed by sounds of warping metal and then a screeching crash. Curious, albeit groggy, residents emerge only to find a smoking wreck just a mile outside of Town.

The strange craft appears to be almost nautiloid in shape with wrenched, broken tendrils streaming out the opening.

Much of it is metal although some of it almost seems... organic.

Those who with to get a closer look will be met by Charlie and Dimitri who are already on the job. They request curious onlookers keep their distance since this craft is, without a doubt, tremendously dangerous.

Later in the day, there appears to be an outfit of officials coming from the west to investigate and clean up the wreckage. Thankfully(?), you will all find out soon enough what's going on.

INVESTIGATION & PROTECTION

Deathcard Cabin by Jonah Senzel

4:07 / 13:06

▶︎

Click here to listen.

From the Inscryption OST: A unique and haunting sound paired with a unique and haunting game.

code

Charlie reports to the citizens of Town that an Illithid cargo transport. The pilot did not survive the crash, but they appeared to be transporting some kind of new breed of Intellect Devourers.

"We do not yet know what this new breed is capable of, but..."

Charlie does give everyone a rundown of what an Illithid and what an Intellect Devourer is, what they are capable of, and a keen warning to tread lightly. Many dead ones were discovered in the cargo but several of the enclosures were damaged in the crash and the likelihood of escapees is high.

Charlie reiterates: These creatures are to be killed on sight, or contained until someone can kill it. If you are not confident in your combat abilities, please remain in your homes as much as possible and seal all openings to your dwelling. Those who are capable though are urged to begin patrols of Town alongside Slayd, Dimitri and himself to ensure that Town and the surrounding areas are safe.

Please travel in pairs or groups, do not be alone! Attack from a distance when possible. Hoshiko will offer her assistance as a markswoman as well by picking off any Intellect Devourers from a distance that she can for those that are forced to travel alone. (Don't worry about any jokes she makes of her service not being cheap though. Charlie wouldn't actually let her charge you anything.)

Unfortunately, not even they can predict the blizzard that rolls through Town in the midst of all this. If you happen to see anything skittering through the snow, don't panic too much. It could just be a tiny woodland creature looking for a warm burrow to hide away in!

At least you hope it is.

PROMPT #3

Hybrid intellect devourers are unique from the regular ones in that the goal is not to kill their target, but to gather intelligence and act as a kind of spy network.

They will flee when confronted directly by greater numbers, but will attack a lone target. They do this by jumping at the target's head and wrapping a wet tendril around their neck. They will choke who they've wrapped around if anyone tries to remove it. They are also far more likely to try and attack sleeping target (hence the advice to keep your homes closed!).

These hybrids emit spores that will keep the target asleep during feeding. Their primary goal appears to be infiltrating the targets' minds and absorbing some of their memories. The target will have their mind left mostly intact... though they may suffer short term memory loss, confusion, distress, fatigue and head pain.

Here's where the fun starts!

Once one of these critters has fed on someone, they are onto their next target. When a fed Intellect Devourer feeds from another target, that target may absorb some of the previous target's memories. This can span across multiple victims and be erratic in whose memories taint whose mind. The memories will cross-pollinate in the form of dreams or waking visions and hallucinations.

If one of these creatures is killed, it will explode, releasing a powerful psionic wave and the memories it had absorbed from any recent targets. Anyone within ten (10) yards of the dying creature will be afflicted with extreme head pain in the short term and also witness the memories of it's previous victims.

Enjoy your muddled memories and leggy brain-hunting!

The outfit of people who have come to investigate are from New Svihelen's disaster containment squad and are investigating the hybrid creatures and the possible reason for an Illithid ship to crash here of all places. Right now, the running theory is that interference from the selfsame summoning circle that brought you all here could have caused the interplanar navigation systems of the ship to malfunction but nothing has been determined yet.

Eventually, these creatures will all be rounded up and taken care of. They are persistent and stealthy though in their efforts to survive above all else. Charlie assures that they're doing all they can to make Town safe once and for all but it will take some time.

Notes

⁂ The partner plotting post for this event/quarter is also up!

⁂ Additionally, we have a state of the game post available for people to read about updates, clarifications, and housekeeping items!

⁂ If you have any further questions or feedback about this event specifically, please comment here!

⁂ For even more ambient event music, you can check out this this playlist!

⁂ Full Navigation ⁂

Comments

QUESTIONS, SUGGESTIONS, & FEEDBACK

[diceofthegods]

[parer]

Is it alright to handwave any flying lessons? I feel like I mentioned in some thread or another about Ignis going to see Not Blond Dimitri for this, but I can't remember which one and now it is February

wow time is scary

[avanture_time]

Does Charlie happen to have any literature about illithids and the like in his personal library? Avan would like to do some Research.

ardyn izunia. ffxv. ota.

[fatedfinality]

🍷a crash in the night.

As someone who doesn't sleep much to begin with, Ardyn is actually witness to the strange ship that comes crashing down near Town. A spark of light across the night sky and then a shattering boom; he's at the site quickly, but not fast enough to beat their local deity and his bodyguard who keep him at a distance. A shame, really, since he wanted to do his own investigating.

Them mentioning the danger doesn't deter Ardyn any though. If anything, it makes him that much more curious. "Just how dangerous do you think they mean by 'tremendously'?" he asks someone else who arrives later. People are starting to trickle in, unnerved and uncertain.

"It doesn't seem like an intentional attack at least. Though perhaps peace wasn't meant to last with us around regardless." Is he trying to make people more anxious? Maybe. It's just that he, like many from his world, don't have a great history of mysterious objects crashing into their planet from afar. He thinks it's better to be suspicious than not.

🍷patrolling.

Ardyn offers his services for patrolling once it's revealed what they're dealing with. Look at him, being an upstanding citizen! Maybe he's paired with you for a walk around Town. Maybe he just voluntells you that you're under his protection for the time being. Regardless of the reason, he's here now and you're safe with him. Promise.

He's actually hoping to come across one of these Intellect Devourers and see for himself how dangerous they can be though. So if he seems a bit eager to throw himself into harm's way- Don't worry about it. He'll be fine! "I've survived worse than some mindflayer," he offers. Which is, in a sense, somewhat true.

Eventually, he gets his wish after using himself as bait. One of those parasites manages to wrap its slick tentacles around his throat and latch onto his head as he gives a strangled cry. He feigns fighting it off even as he feels a pain in the back of his head that blooms out through his skull.

It only lasts for a moment through before the Intellect Devourer's grip tightens harshly. Ardyn expects a potential killing blow - and he'll have to apologize to Charlie again, he thinks - but instead it makes a strange, sharp noise and then explodes. The psconic wave is strong, leaving him physically and mentally disoriented.

Anyone in the immediate area will also be slammed with a memory. It might be his, or it might be one of the millions of others he's stolen over the years. Either way, the likelihood of it being pleasant is quite slim.

🍷a time he tried to forget.

It isn't immediately after the explosion that he becomes... confused. Although dazed, he's able to pick himself up and head back into Town just fine with a dismissive and cavalier sort of attitude like he didn't almost get his head blown off.

At some point though as he walks alone, it calls back to the time he traveled all those years ago on foot to the next city. To where his people needed him, to where he was going to help them- Perhaps because of that psonic wave, his timeline of memories shifts. He isn't a monster made by centuries of The Starscourge ravaging his body and soul anymore; no, he's just a man again.

He doesn't look any different on the outside, but his mannerisms and attitude are out of character. He remembers Town, interestingly enough, but only the basics. He's stayed here now for a while, hasn't he? Yes, that makes sense. The affliction in the surrounding areas ran deep from that tragic war, he recalls, and he was... here to help. Isn't that what they'd said? Yes. Yes, that's right.

"Let me get that for you," he says, no dramatic flair or pretense to be found as he helps to move some heavy shrapnel from that downed ship. "And let me know if there's anything else I can do."

🍷wildcard / plot with me.

(( ardyn's plotting post is here! for the memory prompt, if you're canon familiar feel free to suggest your own. if not, hmu @ tentamenace on plurk or discord and we can hash out what memory you might want to get of Ardyn's depending on what you're feeling / what would be good for their CR.

the last prompt will also come with DLC Spoilers for him. I can avoid anything in-depth, but it's unfortunately a bit inevitable some stuff will be touched on! ))

a crash in the night

[aisandfyr]

"'Tremendously' means it's really, really, super dangerous!"

Thanks, Aisthota.

She's standing on her tiptoes with her hand shading her eyes as though that will actually get her a better look in the dead of night. Incidentally, the light blue markings around her eyes are currently absent, just like the matching lipstick, in case Ardyn was wondering whether or not those were makeup.

"They're probably right even if it wasn't an intentional attack. They've been here a lot longer than us, so they're more likely to recognize it!"

She does not seem perturbed by the idea of peace being ephemeral.

grabs that loser from the past

[parer]

One should never underestimate the tendencies for those to return to what they deem familiar. This is true for people and beasts alike, plus... other things. So after he's spent some time with Gladio to ensure that their home is properly secured for Noctis and Prompto (not to mention themselves, of course), he takes off to do some investigatory work.

Also, really, this entire place simply needs to be clean up in some capacity.

The idea is that he will see if any of the IDs are drawn to the scattered fragments from the craft which crashed and then get rid of such so that it isn't in the way of anything else. The last thing they all need is for some other emergency to happen, and people to trip or run into giant slabs of metal.

All the help he has currently is a promise that Hoshiko is watching from afar for any issues. So, needless to say, when there's suddenly a hand help him haul up a piece of shrapnel, and a strangely dissimilar voice...

Ignis stares. Frowns, actually. But he's sharp enough to realize that something is... strange, here. Certainly Ardyn is capable of being an absolutely two-faced tit of a man, but there's a certain quality to the act which makes it incredibly shallow in Ingis's eyes. (Also he hates him.) This is even before going into the careful distance they've both been maintaining ever since Charlie brought Ardyn back to life.

"...I shall keep it in mind," he says, voice slow and careful. "So you're out and about, then?"

Just a mild statement, something to proud and get a bit more out of the other.

There's no forgetting this face

[berriedmemories]

It's rare, especially in a situation known to be dangerous, for Noctis to be alone. It's only the fact that he is the first one of them that has been able to manage the transformation to full dragon and back to his normal form that convinced the others he could stand watch over this particularly problematic hunk of wreckage while they looked for someone .... larger. Sure he might have the strength to move it in dragon form, maybe- he's... well he's not very big- but with the way his wings are structured he couldn't lift it and fly it off out of the way of the path.

Nevermind that it's probably not a good idea to leave it just... wherever for those little brain things to hide out in it.

Noct is, for the moment, pacing lazy circles around the panel (maybe it was a door once?) only his lower legs and feet transformed so he can use the broad spread of paws to stay atop the snow. Convenient, really, that the pants of his go to outfit are so short.

The slow pace of those paws comes up short the moment he sees Ardyn, immediately tense and shifting his stance to brace for a possible attack. Especially after the last time the asshole had torn open his side. That he comes up and just.... offers to help only has Noctis bristling even more. "What the hells are you playing at?"

Avan de Zinuar III | Dragon Quest: The Adventure of Dai

[avanture_time]

[For Popp]

Well, Avan had a plan. Go to bed at his usual time, nap for a few hours until Popp's fallen asleep, then sneak out to do some solo monster hunting. Sure, they'd been told to stick in groups, but, well. The person Avan most trusts to have his back is himself.

To be fair, this is not a misplaced faith. He notices the new film of spores on his pillow after he awakes, despite how thin it is, and immediately he's on edge and grabbing his sword. A quick scan of his room confirms that nothing's out of place, so it's on to check on Popp.

Who has a brain monster feeding on him in his sleep, of course. But not for long. Avan strikes so quickly that the intellect devourer probably doesn't even know what hit it. What Avan doesn't know, on the other hand, is that the intellect devourers explode when they die.

That's surely enough to wake Popp up, and he'll find Avan sitting on the floor with his hands pressed to his head, his bloodied sword dropped next to him.

[OTA - video | un: shakeitup]

[ Avan's been a very well-behaved non-combatant (in the daytime hours), only venturing out of his house when accompanied by Popp or anybody else who might want to volunteer to escort him out for groceries or raiding Charlie's personal library for books. Which, for a high-energy lad like Avan, means he's going a bit stir-crazy. He can only do so much stress-baking, after all. So it's distraction time! ]

Hello, everyone! I figured that since we're all stuck inside, we should stick together!

[ A sight pause for effect, just in case anyone thought the corniness was coincidental. ]

To that end, let's keep ourselves occupied with some conversation! I know lots of jokes and riddles, so ask me for whichever one you'd like!

[Wildcard]

((Avan's memories are written up separately over here, all of those are free game for anyone to see! If you want to plan anything specific, my plotting post is over this way.))

For Popp you say

[snapp_crackle]

Popp is used to vivid dreams, though usually they're remixes of things that his subconscious has decided to give him fun new flavors of anxiety about. What he has gotten shoved in his mind is brand new information that feels incredibly real and that he is finding very hard to draw conclusions about because he has also woken up with a splitting headache on top of feeling like everything in there has been whirled around and scattered.

He is also used to forcing himself to do things in various states of pain and incapacitation, when there's an emergency. What he noticed first, in this room, is 'Avan' 'Avan in pain' and 'blood'. He has barely processed which Avan this is, let alone where he is or what any possible threat might be.

"Avan...? AVAN!"

He leaps out of bed- and promptly tips over onto the floor, he is very disoriented. Fine fine what can he do? He's drawing a blank on magic right now, but there's another suggestion from a third party somewhere in his mindsoup. Senrik doesn't like being vulnerable either and when talking yourself out of trouble fails, you can always turn into a dragon.

Green scaly coils flump down around Avan protectively - it's no miracle Glimmer, but he's between someone he cares about and danger... where is the danger. Popp hisses into the darkness beyond the door. Okay, so he can see in the dark, but there's a lot that could be out there! And it will have to go through him!

Elidibus | Final Fantasy XIV | OTA Will Match Style

[zodiheart]

Firelight:

In perhaps record time after the crash Elidibus manages to transform the home he shares with Erichthonios into a fully functional sanctuary. There is extra bedding formed into cots adequate to sleep in, provided one does not mind close quarters with others, that he has arranged throughout his home. There is a fireplace that crackles with seemingly ever-burning flames, the warmth easily spreading through the entire repurposed home. Supplies have been collected and arranged in easily-identifiable sections within the kitchen and what had once been the dining area.

It is all one could possibly require during a blizzard; shelter, warmth, food, and most importantly safety in numbers. As soon as the finishing touches are placed Elidibus wastes no time in sending out a message to each and every occupant, his home's location attached.

I offer each one of you shelter in this time of need. Come to my home, and together we shall weather this danger and the oncoming cold. My door shall be open to you.

Should one take advantage of the Emissary's offer, he will greet them at the door and usher them inside. At this stage in his transformation he is able to choose his appearance - and he has seemingly chosen to appear entirely as himself, save for his feathered wings. In the dim light of the fire, blue eyes gleam brightly.



Raise Your Banner:

Sanctuary established, Elidibus sets about to ensuring that safety he had promised. He bears both sword and shield as well as his staff, making quick work of very thorough patrol routes. Most of the time his mask remains on his chest where it usually hangs, but at times it sits in its proper place atop his upper face. Through the eyeholes his eyes blaze in the dark, but brighter still is the crimson flash of his station's glyph that flares to life as he casts yet another spell.

Once the reveal of the sleeping spores is made he can be found instead patrolling with something over his lower face. It is vaguely reminiscent of his mask, if said mask continued down to cover his entire face. Speaking with him through it is possible, though his voice will come through slightly distorted - and he reveals it to be a sort of breathing apparatus.

He will accept others who wish to join him. With a single flap of wings he beckons them over. Magic shimmers faintly for a moment across his skin, just for a moment, before it fades. "It will be dangerous this night. Have you prepared?"



Mercy Mirror:

The dangers that come with hunting the Devourers are thoroughly ignored as Elidibus throws himself into the hunt. It is a good thing he's as vicious as he is, as well, because more than a few times he comes across one of the creatures accosting another inhabitant. Sometimes he gets there before the creature has a chance to feed. Other times, he discovers the act in process.

No matter which he is ruthless. He must be, he has much to lose in this place, and a threat is a threat however it may be shaped. Tampering of memory strikes a very particular cord with the Emissary in quite an obvious way. He is unsettled. He is vigilant.

Regardless of which situation he finds this time, the result is the same - a single glance has him strategizing and with a burst of speed he will close the gap.



Supernova:

Weathering the first of the psionic blasts after killing one of the Devourers was an uncomfortable experience. Mostly because he had not been expecting it, nor was he expecting the wash of new memories so obviously not his own. But now that he had experienced such a thing he could better prepare himself as well as others. Heedless of his own comfort, he goes for killing blows swiftly, but his eyes are watchful for bystanders.

Should he be fighting alongside another, he will pull his blows in an attempt to maneuver the creatures to be far enough away to catch only himself in the blast. But this is combat, and one cannot account for all variables.

Perhaps one rushes in at the last moment and is caught. Perhaps one hangs back and watches as Elidibus takes the brunt of it, clutching at his head and giving himself a shake. Or perhaps one may be a bystander, close enough to be caught but in a space that the Emissary did not know they were there.


Wildcard:

((OOC: Plotting post is here! Hit me up if you'd like a closed thread or something else other than these prompts, I'm open to most anything.))

Mercy Mirror

[snapp_crackle]

Popp is just as eager about wading into the creature hunt, but he's very much his first teacher's student. His paralyzing poison breath works a treat to incapacitate the skittery menaces, but after that's done, he can't bring himself to land a killing blow on something that can't fight back... which leaves him vulnerable once he's checking other shadowy corners for more of them and the poison wears off.

Elidibus has a fairly straightforward situation to work with.

A strangled scream.

The muffled sound of a body hitting snow.

A young man lying in a crumpled heap under the eaves of someone's house, tentacles wrapped around his neck.

Ignis Scientia ➺ Final Fantasy 15

[parer]

OTA Prompts

[parer]

A - Initial Crash

Considering his duties as Noctis's retainer, Ignis honestly wastes no time in going to investigate the enormous crash. Frankly speaking, it's actually imperative that he goes on ahead. With the disappearance of his father and Cor, well... His prince, his king, is taking the whole matter to heart. Ignis won't let anything else get in the way of his grief, so it's up to him to be up-to-date on all that is happening now.

Especially with Cor being gone. Their most experienced information agent and warrior, having just finished healing, now gone.

Ignis wishes he could have learned just a little more from him, but... There's no time for that.

So instead he's here, bundled up in that usual thick warm fur cloak, eyes focused in on Charlie and Dimitri. "I understand that the technology here can seem somewhat scattered," he murmurs to anyone else who seems as though they're paying as close attention as he is to the words that have been said. "But this seems a bit outside the usual, don't you agree?"

B - Hunting Party

In truth, the last thing Ignis wants to do is leave Noctis on his own. He wants to be right next to him as he mourns the loss of his father for the second time, as he suffers the ache of being alone whenever he goes fishing again. And he does make sure to do that every night.

...But an active threat means an active defense. So trusting Prompto and Gladio to keep Noctis safe at home, here Ignis is, partnered up with someone else and bearing a fine spear in his other hand. For once, he's actually missing his thick fur coat; it wouldn't do for mobility. So his wings are in full display where they hunch up tight against his back, and he looks about.

"So after getting some information about the number of cages and how many were dead in each enclosure, I believe I have a rough estimate of how many should be loose. Let's see about hunting down five today, shall we?"

This feels like a reasonable number!

C - Crash Out

One would normally say that with the general season and weather being what it is, it's better to just hunker down in one's home and be done with it. But Ignis still believes in being just a bit more proactive than doing nothing with their particular home. So he's taken up watch in the times that Noctis is asleep.

His particular way of keeping watch just may startle some who are still on patrol, however.

Not when there's something clearly going through the snow, only for a blur of violent green to suddenly slam into it from somewhere above like a bird of prey with a vengeance.

Don't worry. Once the snow clears, there's just Ignis, pinning something down with those massive claws of his and a pair of knives. He glances up at whoever got to witness this. "Ah, my apologies for the mess." What has he got? Might need to get closer to find out.

D - Wildcard

[ooc: I'm game for whatever! Ignis's plotting post is here, for whatever you would like.]

Angeal Hewley-Rhapsodos | Final Fantasy VII

[firsteditionbfs]

OTA Prompts

[firsteditionbfs]

A - Bread for the Long Haul

Judging by the abilities of all the people gathered and some other things like the intensity he saw in Elidibus's eyes at the news of what they have to deal with, Angeal has decided that he doesn't need to get involved with the hunt right now. Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that. But the thing about stuff like this is that hunting and fighting is only one part of the equation.

So he makes his way over to Annie's Bakes, and makes sure the lanterns around it are burning bright amidst all the snow. So it's easy to find, along with the simple bulletin put to rock: If you need bread, pre-made baked goods, or just raw materials, come to the bakery.

Anyone who steps into the bakery will find a rush of warm air coming out to meet them. Almost more than just warm, even. Some of that is no doubt thanks to the ovens, but Angeal's own presence can't be denied with the natural warmth of a gold dragon radiating off of him as he works hard, fast, and disciplined behind the counter.

"So whatcha need?" he asks, not looking up.

B - Hunting

With Genesis being how he is, so territorial about their little orchard that's slumbering through the winter, Angeal has no doubt they're staying right in place. So with him working at the bakery, making sure the bakery is locked down, then going to make sure his own home is locked down... He's just a little bit late to the party when it comes to hunting down things.

So after being paired up with someone new... He gives a mild smile just to break the ice before his expression falls back to something more somber and serious.

"So, been hunting since the start? How have we been doing?"

C - There's Only Room For One Fucked Up Alien Here

There's a lot of arguments that could be had on just what Jenova is, not helped by the many fucked up explanations of it that have been mangled ever since it was first found in a chunk of ice, and probably even before then. So the exact scientific definition is probably messed up, not helped by how it is a completely different thing.

...But when you ignore all that shit, it's a little bit simpler.

Jenova is greedy. Down to the cell.

And it can only handle something invasive latching onto 'itself' (Angeal, in this case) before reacting in the only way that a highly aggressive greedy space entity knows.

So for anyone who may be outside on patrol, or simply trying to get something outside, do an errand, fix perhaps a broken board... Congrats! You get to witness, hear, and very likely feel the small but fiery explosion outside of town, and the giant puff of intermingled snow and water (which is likely melted snow). Anyone who goes to investigate will find two things.

The first is a large and rather chunky golden dragon... presumably. If anyone has a traditional image of a dragon, it will be just a bit different. Multiple legs can be seen along its sides, and even its wings seem to be two different pairs with brilliant white feathers emerging from them. Hard to see the head when its bowed down the way it is. There's just Angeal's muffled cursing.

The second is a rather impeded Intellect Devour, which is impeded because it is wobbling along while missing two of its legs.

Have fun figuring out which to focus on.

D - Wildcard

[ooc: angeal's plotting post is right here, so if you have questions or want to do something in particular, let me know!]

Ryou Bakura | Yu-Gi-Oh!

[destinedhost]

[Sneaking Out -- Before he answers Seto's message.]

Perhaps it was foolish for him to head out the door so quickly.

Ryou's magick was barely refined; raw power without much delicacy, not much for handling and he was hardly able to defend himself physically if the situation called for it. Clearly there were others who were better to patrol and look over the situation...

But something in his heart called him outside.

Curiosity.

A desire to help.

A need to do something other than sit around and let the world continue around him. Sitting around did little to nothing, especially if there was something, anything he could do--

Seto would be fine if he stayed inside.

He was wrapped up, bundled up tight, and after checking over the barrier he ventured out amongst the fallen snow. It would be just for a little while, anyway. Then he'd go right back home.

...

Right?

---

[Down in a Ditch -- after his last response to Seto]

There was something funny about being caught in the bottom of a deep snowdrift with his ankle twisted like this.

Mostly it was the pain.

He'd been stabbed by multiple instruments, cursed with only slight sensation in the palm of one of his hands, and yet it was the swollen leg and the searing agony in his ankle that led him to hiss and clutch it tight.

Shit.

He needed to get up and move, but every centimeter of movement was like molten metal in his bones.

A root.

It was a bloody tree root that sent him sprawled on the ground like this, just because he hadn't watched where he was going...

He was a sitting duck like this if he didn't move, but maybe if he packed snow against his foot, it could serve as ice and cut down the swelling just enough for him to get out...

Down in a Ditch

[zodiheart]

As he had said to Seto, Elidibus kept a watchful eye out during his patrols. That extra bit of vigilance turned out to be useful for catching several of the Intellect Devourers off guard thus far.

Something brushes against his awareness. Some instinct he has learned to trust. Though he does not possess the Soul Sight of some of his people, he is able to sense aether as many of them are able to. While he does not pinpoint an exact individual nearby, there is someone near.

He makes his footsteps audible as he passes near the snowdrift that Ryou finds himself in.

Mithrun | Dungeon Meshi | OTA

[orbicularis]

patrol

Once the need for patrols to track and hunt these escaped monsters becomes evident, Mithrun is quick to volunteer. It doesn’t particularly matter to him who he’s working with - in fact, it’s probably fortunate that most who know Mithrun likely already know not to expect much more from him under these circumstances than a nod of acknowledgement before they get to work.

As opposed to strangers, who will get more of a flat, cursory look-over before he sets off into the snow, carrying himself with a confidence contradictory to the ever-present exhaustion permeating his very being, as if simply assuming that his partner will follow. One would almost think he thought he actually held some kind of formal authority here.

He is, at least, not entirely silent. “How quickly could you kill one teleported into your reach?”

hunting (gore, violence, etc)

Mithrun does, at least, prove to be quite efficient about hunting the Intellect Devourers - and occasionally providing a quick rescue for those at risk of being preyed on themselves. Some of those rescues may come in the form of a hand on the shoulder and a quick teleportation spell, transporting the would-be victim and Mithrun himself well away from the hunting monster, while others may be… messier.

He is, after all, mostly focusing on the elimination of a threat, here.

For the most part, Mithrun makes use of his magic to dispatch the monsters; after all, being embedded underground or having a rock swapped with part of one’s flesh or organs will kill most things, and Mithrun won’t hesitate to do either. Even if the latter inevitably leaves him with a debris-shaped handful of brain meat, and also there is the whole debilitatingly painful psionic wave situation.

Some may even have a memory or two of Mithrun’s in there, because-- listen, he’s not known for being exceptionally cautious, and things happen. Especially when he can’t keep track of his own mana reserves, and so is at a continuously greater risk of stumbling or even collapsing the longer he hunts for.

…That “for the most part” about his magic is pretty important, though, since… look, at some point, between the drive to whittle down these things’ unknown numbers and the constant gnawing of instincts he’s been determined to ignore, another weapon starts seeming pretty convenient. If you see Mithrun starting to tear into an ambulatory brain with his teeth here and there, don’t worry about it! He’s getting enrichment!

Just-- maybe also be careful approaching. He may be a little bit wound up, and the disorientation from dealing with these things isn’t likely to have him any more put together.

wildcard

(( OOC: plotting post is here ! feel free to mix and match the circumstances around those bolded sections, because i could not decide on specific prompts so instead you get assorted possible types of encounter. ))

Hunting

[firsteditionbfs]

Listen. Angeal is all about his boyfriends tearing things apart with their bare hands or teeth, and getting covered in blood. That's fine. Any normal boyfriend is turned on by that.

However, he's more worried about what it means when Mithrun has to resort to leaping onto a brain to do exactly that, rather than it just being a slight aftermath because, well, you know. That's what happens sometimes with teleportation combat.

Angeal patiently strides forward. "Alright, I think it's dead, Myth," he says, pulling him away from the brain. If not, then he'll make it soon enough. "I think we should take a break now."

Vincent Valentine | Final Fantasy VII Rebirth

[depressionnap]

OTA prompts

[depressionnap]

i. lone dog

For Vincent's part, he usually ends up sleeping during the day, because honestly fuck the sun it is so tiring to deal with. At night, he certainly doesn't expect to witness the fall of the odd ship, but it already makes him feel uncomfortable. Maybe it's the idea of a Crisis from the Skies all over again that disquiets him. Hard to say.

Either way, he looks out from his perch.

His dragon form is an amalgamation of the Galian Beast and Chaos. Maybe that's why it's terribly easy for him to be comfortable enough like this, despite the bitter changes against his will once again.

Regardless, he ignores suggestions to pair up, as he does. Vincent goes to investigate, wings stretched out as he flies confidently into the air.


ii. animal control | [cw: body horror, gore, all of Hojo]

The memory is a dimly lit room, tinted in mako green with the stench of iron and chemicals alike. Yet another one of the good doctor's laboratories, deep within the bowels of the Shinra Manor. Strapped to an examination table is Vincent, but his hair isn't long enough to reflect his current present self.

Though, that's hardly the least shocking sight. Part of Vincent's chest is forced open like how one would treat a cadaver.

There's barely a heartbeat pulsing if one dares to look into his chest, Vincent's red eyes glazed over as he looks around barely aware. It's hard to say if he even knows what's going on at the moment.


iii. wildcard

[do your own thing or you can ask for a different memory]

Popp | Adventure of Dai | OTA

[snapp_crackle]

A, patrol

On one hand the region being invaded by awful little monsters is pretty horrible, on the other hand, Popp has been running menial errands for months when he has a skillset that is mostly for fighting off monsters. Fighting off, not so much hunting down. He starts off patrols eager and bristling, but when it comes down to it, if nothing attacks, this is just walking around in the cold having anxiety for a few hours.

Earlier, he absolutely obliterated something small in a blast of powerful flame, but in hindsight, it might have been a rabbit...?

"I got up early for this and they don't even have the manners to come take a sip?!"

He taps his head, looking extremely put out.

"I should be a delicious feast to these things, right?"

B, recovery

Popp is apparently, as he theorized, super delicious. Maybe it is the wizardly intellect, maybe it is some sort of secret scalp secretion that comes with being a green dragon. Maybe it is that he is reckless and careless and sleeps deeply enough not to notice a brain monster grinching down the chimney.

He's been attacked sleeping in his own home. He's been attacked while on patrol, both by himself and with others. He's been attacked while proudly showing off an ID that he thought was safely paralyzed by his breath weapon.

He's determined not to let it get to him and once he's recovered he's always game to go out there and keep fighting. Once he's recovered being the operative word here. He spends a lot of time this month so scrambled he can't remember how to turn into a human, and on top of that, he's very woozy and uncoordinated.

He's not exactly laid up in bed because his long, serpentine form can barely even fit in his room, so any visitors who come to call on him will find him in the main room of the house, lying about in unruly coils like an oversized garden hose. Try not to trip over him, he's been whiny enough as it is.

C, wildcard

The assorted IDs either get away with their snackies or they don't, and a variety of Popp's semi-recent adventuring experiences show up in dreams and psionic death surges. Some of his fellow dragonsouled may have experienced going to a fantasy department store through his eyes, or seen a memory of his parents that explains a lot about his personal psychology, or seen him outright die, which can't be a great first-person view. Whether they talk to him about it or let that percolate as they go about their business as normal, that information and more is out there, ripe for the absorbing.

(( OOC: The plotting post is here, or just jump right in and have at it!))

a

[orbicularis]

Mithrun is, admittedly, also not thrilled about how their hunt has gone so far - even if it may be hard to discern that displeasure from his usual, passive... everything.

At Popp's complaint, though, he does eye him, his head tilting. "Why would you be? You're young even for a tall-man, aren't you?"

Mithrun you can't just say that.

Byleth Eisner | FE3H | OTA

[perfectteatime]

Midvintersagor

He has boarded up every possible point of entry. The windows are secure. The doors are locked. Even the lavatory has been secured so no entry can be made even through the most unpleasant of passages.

Byleth sighs, tired from his hurried work. He shivers as the cold seems to penetrate even his finest defenses. Ah. The fire's gone out. He moves to pick up some of the dry wood he'd stockpiled when it dawns on him.

The fire.

The chimney.

He turns just in time to collide the piece of firewood with the creature as it launched itself at his head, sending it scrabbling and scratching. Damn it. He glances toward his very rudimentary sword in the opposite corner of the room. The grotesque brain-like creature is still, waiting for him to make his move. A tense second passes before they both explode into movement, Byleth dashing for his sword as the thing catches one of his ankles and pulls him down just shy of his goal. Clawing it's way up his body, Byleth is torn between pushing it away and reaching for the sword. It's surprisingly strong for such a spindly creature.

He hisses as he struggles to keep it reaching his face. Having to abandon his reach for his sword, he brings both hands to bear, channeling what magic he can use here into a fire spell that turns the palms of his hands warm, then hot, enough to make his assailant recoil with an uncanny, gargling screech.

Enough to grab his sword and bring it down on the wretch as it gathers itself to make another attack. He doesn't kill it, quite. It seems to be quite wounded though as it stumbles away from him now as he gets to his feet.

Damn it. He should not have let Dimitri go on patrol. No matter- he can handle this little fiend. Scratched up as he is, he prepares to make the killing blow. What he did not account for however, is that these creatures seem to have a distaste for fair odds. He doesn't even notice the second one before it's wrapping it's claws and tail around his head and neck. Knocking the sword from his grasp. He tears at it with his fingers, but it's squeezing so tight he can't breathe. One hand goes groping for the sword, and only does it finally start tapping the pommel as he loses consciousness.

[OOC: You can either meet up with Byleth sometime after this, OR encounter the Intellect Devourers on their own and receive his eaten memories, just let me know which ones/what kinds of memories you want or I can wildcard you! Alternately you can find him passed out in his house with no creatures to be seen and a big mess. ]

A Walk in the Woods

Byleth is plenty familiar with the deep, suffocating snows of Faerghus. That said, he likes it no more than he did before. Which is to say, not at all. You won't find complaint with him, though. He's making do as he goes about his patrol. The snow comes up to nearly his thighs, but when he needs to move, he utilizes his wings.

While it looks somewhat clumsy, taking off from the snow in a standing position, it gets him to his next destination. How did he learn to fly already? It seems odd. While it's not perfect, it's with far more practiced movements than one may expect in such a short time. He's taken to perching on the snow-laden trees or on the rooftops of the buildings to allow himself a better vantage point.

He's not difficult to spot under the grey-white skies. Like a lone magpie watching over the ground below. He does not disturb the stillness that winter offers until he decides to move. Likely, he will remain silent until he's greeted or spotted.

Midvintersagor

[zodiheart]

Themis did not possess clairvoyance of any sort. While he was able to predict and assume much, none of that was born from any sort of precognitive abilities. So when he passes Byleth's home upon one of his patrols, he pauses entirely out of an emotional response. An intuition.

A feeling. An instinct to check.

That instinct paid of instantly when he made his way inside to see the aftermath of an attack. A mess. Byleth, upon the floor- the slam of the door behind him is followed by the clatter of discarded weaponry as his staff hits the ground. Themis pulls Byleth into his lap with his shield-arm, gently passing his hand to check for injury.

Instinct flickers again, and Themis knows to trust it utterly.

His sword comes up just in time to skewer the Intellect Devourer that he had missed in his haste to get to one he cared so deeply for. With a soft curse, he pulls his sword free and watches the thing begin to die. His wings come up to shield them both before the detonation hits-

And with it, memory.

Obsidian Blackheart (WoL) | FFXIV

[vulnstacked]

OTA prompts

[vulnstacked]

i. duetting solo

The cold reminds him of a few places he's experienced in the past, though none come so close to the awful chill of Garlemald. This is true even now; despite all of the snow, it's just familiar territory for someone whose home was once the Skatay Range. Hunting through it is a second instinct, even if the quarry is certainly different than usual.

"It's going to be a blanket of white if this snow keeps up," Fray warns in a soft growl.

"Then it's a good thing I'm never alone when I've got you," Obsidian muses, cracking a fanged smile. "I know you've got my back, aye?"

A soft huff from his esteem. "I suppose you won't get that many people who know this kind of land as you and I do."

"That's the spirit." There's a pause from Obsidian, and his ears twitch, swiveling in your direction before the Warrior of Light is glancing your way. "It's dangerous to be out here by yourself. Are you all right?"

After all, Obsidian isn't technically alone, so it's fine. It's cool.


ii. memoria

In the end, the Warrior of Light's strength will always come from his truest comrades. To venture alone is a fool's errand, even with Fray ever at his side. Eventually, out in the worst of the blizzard and defying the odds, he gets unlucky. An Intellect Devourer does manage to sink its grasp onto him, causing Obsidian to collapse in the snow.

"Shite," Fray hisses, black mist rising from his form, his blade disintegrating from his hand. The echoing sound of chains rattle as he begins to lose his corporeal appearance, draining away as Obsidian goes unconscious.

So he stumbles toward you, calling out: "Help him."

When you do, the resulting memory begins in blinding Light.


iii. wildcard & notes

[Please feel free to make your own prompt! On prompt II, unless you have a specific memory you would like, I will randomize the memory you receive from Obsidian.]

[Closed to Sephiroth, Kuja]

[relativefugue]

When the alarm was raised regarding the illithid crash, Cloud Strife was quick to heed the call with the Buster Sword in tow. He is, after all, a man of action. Most of the life he thinks he can remember occurs between battles- especially all of his journey that happened immediately before being sent to this world. The prospect of combat with dangerous aliens is a challenge, but also an opportunity for Cloud to sink back into a certain headspace, a rhythm. To charge in and follow his instincts and blade to the end, rely on his own capabilities and finesse. To let go of things for a while, and be helpful in the process.

Or so he thought. Nothing is ever quite so simple for Cloud. Hasn't been for longer than he even fully realized until recently.

Path 1: Sephiroth

Cloud for the most part manages to grapple with a small horde of intellect devourers safely. He watches for the explosions after landing any kind of decisive blow, putting good space between himself and the dying beasts before they can inflict whatever the shockwave might cause on him. Though one Angeal Hewley might see his form and scoff at it (and probably kick his ass, really), the merc gets the job done. At least, he does until he gets a little too sloppy with a spinning attack. One of the terrible, alien things in front of him crumples into a heap, whilst the one behind is sent sailing through the air from the impact of the sweeping swing. Ultimately, when Cloud leaps away from the first one, he lands directly into the aftershocks of the second.

"Shit-"

The world blurs and starts to fade away. Cloud briefly panics as his head begins to throb, wondering if this is yet another of his hallucinations. What reforms around him, however, is not like anything he has ever seen, be it in dreams or nightmares...

Path 2: Kuja
Although he would be the first to claim he works best alone, Cloud can be, and has been a good team player back home. Fighting a threat to Town, or probably even the whole nearby region means that the skill to fight cooperatively will need to come in handy whether the blond wants it or not. Around the crash site, he sees a few faces he recognizes, busy fighting or investigating. One of the fighters in particular stands out: A man with long, silver hair in a strange and distinct style (definitely not Sephiroth), who moves and even fights with a particular undeniable grace. He's doing well for himself against his group of intellect devourers, but Cloud notices three more charging towards the lone warrior's back at alarming speeds. Without missing a beat the merc falls into step, springing forward to close the gap and cleave clean through them with the Buster Sword before they can get within exploding range of their target.

"More of em coming from all sides. Keep your guard up."

Path 1 (spoilers for Ever Crisis: First Soldier)

[silver_soldier]

What Cloud sees...it's not Rhadore. Not in its entirety. It's already going to be too much at once, but every moment of Sephiroth's time there would truly be overwhelming. So, perhaps unsurprisingly, what comes through are the highlights. The moments that, to Sephiroth at least, were particularly memorable.

A team of three SOLDIERs - or, not quite SOLDIERs, not yet, not as Cloud would come to know them - in trouble, facing down dozens of heavily armed Rhadorans. A far too young Sephiroth, cutting through those Rhadorans like butter. Sephiroth, assuming command of the squad. An angry blond - Cloud might recognize him as Glenn, if he met Glenn during his brief stay in Town - calling him a cyborg, declaring Sephiroth would never be one of them, declaring his refusal to fight alongside someone who hadn't undergone the same brutal training he and his squad had. Sephiroth apologizing after being yelled at for whistling for his team, admitting that it's his first assignment and that all his supposed accomplishments and heroism prior to it have been recruitment lies of ShinRa. Saying that he doesn't want to be a hero, and just wants to live a normal life...the last so quietly that no one hears him, and his shrugging it off as being an impossible fantasy. Sephiroth asking after his mother, holding a locket with her picture. Sephiroth remarking that talking to the others in his squad must be what it's like to have fun, and the squad showing affection to him - even the previously angry blond. A number of small scenes as time passes, both warm and dark - the squad talking, spending time together, the murder of helpless Rhadorans that Sephiroth desperately tries to justify to himself as he clings to the training he's been given that he struggles to accept, Glenn hugging Sephiroth and telling him he can show compassion, hunting through a fortress of dead bodies for his lost locket with the others, the group speaking with a Rhadoran boy close to Sephiroth's own age.

And, finally...Sephiroth facing down that boy, Rosen, the last of the Rhadorans. Rosen asking for death to join his people, and Sephiroth encouraging him to leave with them, to find his own place he belongs in the world - the way Sephiroth did. Sephiroth begging Rosen, for Glenn and the others, to live. Rosen countering that Sephiroth has to choose between saving him, and saving his squad, demanding he make that choice...and Sephiroth finally, in agony, making it. What feels like - at least within Sephiroth's memories - the utter finality of that choice, and what he loses with it, the fury and grief and recriminations from Glenn and the others, Glenn kicking Sephiroth's miraculously returned locket into the Lifestream...and Rhadore, utterly destroyed in every conceivable way, collapsing into the sea.

Cloud gets to see Sephiroth's very first field mission. He gets to see his hero. A boy of twelve, already traumatized, committing genocide.

Erichthonios | FFXIV [CW: death]

[awesomegaolgreatjob]

1) Even now

It takes not but a moment to go out the side door and gather more dry wood for the fire. The snow has encroached significantly but not enough to reach the little overhand area he made for their spare logs. He's quietly proud of it as he lets himself out into the chilling air. He's aware of the danger, and he keeps a chain at the ready anyways.

Once he has a good sized bundle wrapped up in another chain, he turns to start for the door.

It takes not but a moment to get the wood, and for the nasty crawling predator to spot him. It waits until his hands are occupied, and he turns his back to strike. He does actually manage to wound one of it's legs, turning as he hears the rapid shuffling to send it whipping down on the Devourer's limb, but it's not enough. Soon enough he's limp on the frozen ground. At least he's under a covering for a mercy...

When he wakes again, he cringes at the too harsh light, squinting up at his would-be rescuer.

"Oh my... my head."

2) Am I dreaming again?

Whatever unfortunate soul is granted access to Erich's memories might expect to learn of his unusual childhood. Perhaps of his strained relationship with his father, or learning how to become a warder of Pandaemonium. Maybe even of his budding love for Themis.

There is some of that.

The strongest memory stands however, the most vivid.

A hand releases a memory crystal into the aether. A message most dire to set adrift to someone. Someone who can help, he hopes. From that, he turns, pausing to close his eyes. His final duty done. His walk down the now very empty halls of Pandaemonium save for the creations interred there. He is the last one.

The last warder. He breathes as he removes his shoes. His ritual of getting ready for bed. He hangs his mask on the wall above, then crawls under the covers. He knows, as he closes his eyes, the world is being torn asunder. He knows this will be his final sleep.

He tries to be brave.

Don't open your eyes. No matter what you hear, nor what you feel. Sleep does not find him. No... not before the nightmares do.

He keeps his eyes closed.

Even now

[aisandfyr]

Erich will find himself gently propped up by a woman even taller than he is. "Hey, are you alright?" she asks. "Let's get you inside, okay?"

Lahabrea | Final Fantasy XIV | OTA unless otherwise marked

[abyssalflames]

}Crash in the Night{
[For all that Town and the surrounding area have been remarkably calm of late, there's a part of Lahabrea that has not forgotten the chaos of the Final Days. Of stars falling from the sky and buildings crumbling.

It's only after he jolts awake at the sound of a large crash that he remembers this world has already suffering a calamity. And for all that he has been told that it had been resolved, he knows too that they have been brought here for a reason.

His arrival to the site is fairly swift. He might not be able to teleport to directly to a site he hasn't seen before, but it still cuts down on travel time, for all he is not the first to arrive. If only because he cannot beat the local deity for speed.]

I would hardly claim it to look dangerous.

[Unusual, yes, and unexpected. But not something that would warrant the sorts of warnings any arrivals are being given.]

}Out and About{
{I}
[Lahabrea has heard the warnings, same as anyone. But he is not one to flinch at monsters. Nor has he stood against the Final Days only to flinch from something that is described as dangerous. Not when he knows that he is likely among the more powerful individuals present.

As such, he turns his focus to patrolling. Some of this is on his own - his time in Pandaemonium has gotten him well used to what to expect from a variety of monster - but he is just as willing to accept someone at his side.

Regardless, once he manages to spot an Intellect Devourer he wastes no time in pressing the atttack with fire in hand, be it at someone's side or in defense of someone who has gotten caught unawares (or both).]

{IIa; closed to Erich and Themis}
[Unfortunately, with great power comes - eventually - overconfidence. Something that not even Lahabrea is entirely immune to, and though he has more than his share of spells he still freezes at the feeling of a tentacle winding around his neck... and that proves his undoing, as the spores do their work.

When he awakes, later, confused and disoriented in the wake of the attack he manages to remember one single thing. A promise, made to him by two separate people who live under the same roof and even in his confusion teleportation magic is simple enough.

His arrival is not a particularly elegant one. Though he remembers Erichthonios' and Elidibus' house he has not spent a great amount of time in it, and he comes staggering out of the portal with no real care for what, exactly, he might run into. All that matters is that he has managed to end up somewhere safe.]

{IIb}
[Once Lahabrea has recovered from his unfortunate encounter with an Intellect Devourer he once again returns to tracking them down, but this time with a purpose. He may not be able to say for certain which has taken his memories. But he knows that they are nonetheless out there, and if he must destroy all the Intellect Devourers he comes across in order to spare people his memories he means to try. Even if it should prove to be unsuccessful.]

}Wildcard{
((If there's anything else you want to do, this is the place for it!))

IIa

[zodiheart]

[Elidibus is in the kitchen when Lahabrea arrives. That he is home at all is a miracle in itself, he had been so frequently out on patrols in an attempt to protect everyone from what Lahabrea had just undergone. As it is, he is next to the portal as it opens and barely manages to turn before the taller Ancient smashes bodily into him.

A mug clatters to the ground, smashing into pieces upon impact, tea spattering their footwear.

They only just manage to not go down in a heap of limbs.]

Erichthonios, I have need of you here!

[The words are clipped with urgency. Elidibus has an idea of what Lahabrea has gone through but not the full details, nor how fully the man has been affected. What he does is wrap his arms around him to provide both stability and comfort. If he falters, Elidibus will be there to hold him upright. A pillar of strength.

He speaks softly.]

I have you, Lahabrea. You are safe.

rosie ❥ original ❥ ota

[hasitsthorns]

❥ who needs protection? her, naturally.

Despite people being warned to not go alone, when has that ever stopped Rosie? She's unfortunately independent to a fault. Even if assigned a buddy, she might slip away unexpectedly. Sorry if that's you. It's nothing personal or, honestly, anything she's intentionally trying to do. A lifetime of having to do most things on her own though just mean she's conditioned to do so regardless of whatever danger might be around the corner.

Besides, Hoshiko is watching! That's fine. She'll be fine. (Spoilers: she won't be fine.)

No doubt at least some people are drawn by the sudden shriek of a woman about to be Intellect Devoured. They won't find Rosie in immediate danger, at least, but she is brandishing a dagger pointed at one of those walking brains. Noxious fumes wisp passed her lips and out of her nostrils as her tail thrashes. Despite her intimidating stance, the Intellect Devourer isn't deterred. For now, they're in a stand-off but it will lurch and skitter towards her at a rapid pace to break the stalemate.

❥ wildcard / plot with me

(( hello hi it's chai! only the one OTA prompt for Rosie this event, but her plotting comment is here! feel free to hit me up there or on plurk/discord @ tentamenace to talk shop about memory swaps. closed prompts for people I've planned stuff with will be below! ))

❥ popp.

[hasitsthorns]

"-wait!" she tries to say, but it's too late. The finishing blow on an Intellect Devourer sees it explode and her memories scatter in a confusing mess thanks to that psonic wave.

( █ cw for: depiction of an abusive relationship )

"Hello, songbird," greets a low, smooth timbre affectionately as arms circle around her waist from behind. The chin of a man much taller comes to rest atop her head as she laughs. Even in some of the worst memories, she tries to remember Charlie fondly. In this one particularly, it starts off nice. It usually did though, didn't it?

She talks about her latest scores she's come up with and that's where the notes of their conversation begin to sour. 'A distraction,' he calls it, and reminds her that she needs to focus on their actual work. Rosie says she knows, but a too tight grip on her wrist that causes her to wince makes her regret it.

"Don't forget," he hisses, pupils narrowing into slits as he towers over her and refuses to let go despite her attempted tug to break away, "how easily all this can go away. How many lives are depending on us - on you - and how important it is our work has your full attention." Her eyes sting with tears brimming on her waterline but she refuses to actually cry in front of him. They stare at each other like that for a tense moment before he loosens his hold and sighs.

"Don't look at me like that, songbird," he continues, the same hand that held her hard enough to bruise now coming to cup the side of her face. Rosie huffs but her gaze softens in kind. "You know I'm only trying to do what's best for you. For all of us. So put that nonsense away- We have cases to go over before this evening."

Although she's most concerned first with the headache, she also knows she needs to check on those around her. Some of her memories aren't the most pleasant and wouldn't be fun to deal with.

"Hey," she says, to Popp, who also got caught in that unexpected blast. "You okay?"

Emet-Selch | Final Fantasy XIV (cw: major spoilers, body possession, apocalyptic themes, tba)

[recreator]

A. By one's own hand.
Power is no blessing in itself, except when it is used to protect the innocent.

[Though some have chosen to focus on protecting everyone and killing Intellect Devourers on sight, Emet-Selch has taken a more subdued and practical approach. If there is one good thing about turning into a dragon, however, it's that he need not abhor the cold quite as vehemently as he once did. Indeed, this body's inner fire and thick outer scales manage to keep the worst of the discomfort at bay as he makes his way through Town to join up with another, his large claws carving exaggerated footholds in the packed snow for those who come after.]

[Occasionally, too, does he pause to clear out snowdrifts with his long tail so that the residents don't become permanently trapped within their lodgings, and rarer still he will deign to light a fire or a cookstove for those who have opted to shelter in place.]

[All of this means that he has actually fallen behind schedule, and he arrives exactly one minute before he said he would, rumbling irritably as he shakes the worst of the icicles out of his beard and gives his eel-like tail a sound and ungracious flick which sends a barrage of wet and half-melted snow clumps splattering against the nearest wall - or person, if he's feeling particularly sour. Emet-Selch huffs through his nose, a puff of smoke rising to tangle around his horns as he folds himself into an awkward sitting position much like an oversized cat.]

Apologies for my lateness, though I would not have been had I run into a few less interruptions during my journey here.


B. Time moves in one direction, memory in another.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.

[Try as he might, Emet-Selch is dragged under, his consciousness succumbing as pain and an unfamiliar darkness overtake him. Mayhap you are there to witness the great beast of golden sheen scales as he collapses into a snowy heap. Steam curls in white tendrils around him as the trio of Intellect Devourers drink to some twelve thousand years of knowledge.]

[Or... mayhap you instead find yourself caught within a psionic wave as yet another of the pests are destroyed. Mayhap you yourself are also a victim and your mind is subsequently poisoned with the memories of others.]

[Whatever the case may be, shadows play over your eyelids as the last motes of light are seemingly snuffed from existence. All is pitch black and silent. You cannot be sure if you are standing on solid ground, or if you are floating within some void.]

[But at last, as if all at once, there is a sound like a shattering mirror. Above you the sky breaks open into four distinct quadrants run through with jagged lines. You have a choice to make.]

➤ To the West is a gentle azure punctuated by billowy white clouds and sunlight glinting off towering helical spires and glittering stone facades. An immaculate afternoon beckons within the shadows of Amaurot's sprawling skyline. Here, the sweet fragrance of jacaranda blossoms intermingled with the heady scent of wisteria permeates the air, as if inviting one to linger upon the lawn for awhile and bathe in its magnificence. 'Twould be the perfect place for a nap, you think, and perhaps you do doze off - for a time. Soon enough, however, you become aware of another presence approaching in the form of footsteps.

----
➤ To the South the firmament is painted red with blood, fire, and tears. The air is thick with acrid smoke, both bitter and suffocating, and meteors fall from the heavens in a breathtaking and heartrending spectacle both. Should you focus your ears, you can just make out the echoing screams of terrified voices not too far off. The ground rumbles beneath your feet and then shakes again violently as an apartment building, some fifty stories tall, comes crashing down across the wide boulevard, obstructing your path. The so-called "calamity" had seemed such a distant anomaly, once, and yet it has come. Indeed. All too soon it had overtaken the world, and now: it is here.

----
➤ To the North all is a calm and joyless gray. Snow falls now and again, adding some scant few ilms more to the immutable permafrost that serves as a foundation to this militaristic nation. Indeed, as you peer down at the streets below, you can see something of a charming little cavalcade beginning to take form. Magitek vehicles maneuver into neat lines, and between them legions of soldiers in full armor, with the occasional hound brought smartly to heel. You might be excused for thinking that the proceedings have something to do with the recent uprisings in occupied lands but this... this is a celebration. To the future of Garlemald.

"Your Radiance?" a voice calls from behind you, and you turn to regard one of the empress's servants. Her hair is all askew and exhaustion colors her eyes, yet there is no hiding the timid and delighted smile that tugs at her lips before she remembers herself and her place. She curtsies swiftly, from the waist.

"The, ah, the chirurgeons sent me, Your Radiance. They bid me ask if you would like to see him before the parade begins. See Prince Lucius."

----
➤ To the East, all is Light. Euphoric and blinding. This world has not known the rest and relief that the night may bring in nigh over a century, and all is changed for it. Humanity has fled to what settlements remain, and few wander alone for fear of being set upon by them - by the sin eaters. Perhaps you remain there a moment to get your bearings. After all, anyone would require a little stretching after being so rudely interrupted from their first nap in 90 years...

Or perhaps you dawdle instead. Your attention interrupted by the shout of a lowly guard. He shuffles backwards on hands and knees, armor clattering along the ground, his eyes wide and terrified.

"Who's there?" he cries. "Show yourself! I- I'm not in the mood for games!"

You hear yourself sigh, but it isn't you at all. You take a step forward, and then two. You cast no shadow, and the man trembles as he looks around wildly but does not see. You hate this part. Always so unpleasant.

"Nor am I," Emet-Selch says. "So let's just get this over with, shall we?"

The man's face goes white with terror as you make your move, his body falling limply around you as you settle in and atune your soul with this paltry offering of flesh, wresting control away and ushering his consciousness into a vacant corner of your now shared vessel. You stand, dusting yourself off and snapping your fingers. This body reconfigures around you, reshapes itself into something a little less foreign. Dusty armor is soon replaced by pristine Garlean regalia and you roll your shoulders testingly.

"No fretting now. You'd have died out here, anyway, before long. Consider it the lesser of two evils."

((OOC: Please choose a direction and I will tailor a memory experience for you. o/))


C. Recovery is about progress, not perfection.
In my recovery, I'm a soldier at war. I have broken down walls.

[Mayhap you rouse the dragon from where he lays upon the snow, half-buried and unmoving, or mayhap a few days have passed that sees Emet-Selch draped in blankets, nursing a hideous migraine. He feels carved out and overstuffed at the same time, his mind struggling to gain its proper footing, to separate dream from reality, and his own memories from those so unceremoniously foisted upon him. His throat is parched, vision threatening to bleed together and grow dark once more. Yet he hasn't the energy nor the desire to say anything about it or to call out for help. All he really wants is to rest, to make the horrible throbbing in his head cease once and for all.]

[He toys idly with the ribbon wrapped around his fingers, his bangs hanging limply over his eyes. Gods, what has he gotten himself into now? And why can't he remember the half of it? As far as he can recall, he was headed outside. How did something so simple go so utterly wrong?]

[Closed to Byleth] [Amaurot 2.0: Part One] (cw: apocalyptic themes, major spoilers)

[recreator]

"The fabric of our star began to fray..."

The chandelier above their heads sputters and dims, and for a moment Hades cannot be certain his eyes aren't playing tricks on him again. It has been a difficult day, the longest council session since he took up the Seat of Emet-Selch by far, perhaps the longest in Amaurot's recorded history. And understandably so.

The faces around the chamber are all grim. Beside him Mitron reaches over to take Loghrif's hand in hers, and across the room Lahabrea bows his head, his stern countenance unyielding - but only just. Elidibus looks to each of them in turn, a soft and apologetic smile gracing his features. They must act decisively, he reminds them. This course is the best way to put an end to the blight that has befallen their star, and they will prevail. As their Emissary, he will see it done. When the time comes and their preparations are in order, he will serve as Zodiark's heart.

At Elidibus's left hand, however... Emeth-Selch watches Azem stiffen, knuckles white; a storm threatening to break. As the meeting is at last adjourned, his friend tugs Elidibus into a quick embrace and then rushes from the room.

'Ugh. Just wonderful...' he grumbles through his exhaustion. 'Yet another mess. As if we require another.'

* * *
He finds Azem within the rooftop garden - as always. So many send-offs have occurred in this very spot. And now she hastily secures Arion's saddle, her movements agitated as she slings a pack over her own shoulders and raises the hood of her cowl against the blowing embers, a stark reminder of how little time they have left. Around them, the sky is aglow - not from the setting of the sun, for it is well past midnight, but from the fires burning unchecked in Amaurot's peripheral wards. They've done what they can to staunch the spread, and yet, 'tis scarcely enough. Few are willing to utilize their creation magicks in full for fear of what new monstrosities might arise in their haste...

"And just where do you think you're running off to at this hour?" he intones, as if he cannot already guess. As if she didn't make her stance abundantly clear during the session.

Azem shakes her head, undeterred as she climbs onto her familiar's back. "I can't do this, Hades. I can't agree to the plan. It's too much! There has to be another way..."

"You know as well as I that there is no other way. We've spent months exploring other avenues, and all have come up woefully short. We haven't the luxury to continue chasing our tails in hopes that something more palatable will reveal itself to us, and that is why we must give Elidibus and the others our full support as we move forward with the Zodiark plan."

"Maybe you are, but I'm not ready to give up yet. There must be something else we can do. And that's why I'm leaving. I have to try." Without another word, she nudges her steed forward.

"This is utter madness!" he shouts, planting himself in front of Arion to bar their path. The six-legged horse rears up, snorting at him in open disdain. "You can't just scamper off at a time like this and ignore your duty! If you go out there now, you'll be running straight to your doom! Stay here, do you hear me?"

"And if I stay, I'll be, what, agreeing it's okay for Themis to sacrifice himself?! And what of everyone else? How much aether will something like Zodiark require? How many more of my friends am I going to have to say goodbye to before this is over? I'll find a way! You have to let me find a way! Please, Hades, tell me you don't like it either..."

Hades falls silent a long moment, glowering up at her, his mouth twitching unhappily. Finally he says: "I don't like it. But neither will I abandon our people when they look to us for guidance."

"Then let me go. I'm not asking you to come with me, you know. You're needed here. So stay. Protect everyone. Look after Hythlodaeus and the others. And, hey, try and have a little faith in me, will you? I won't fail. I promise you!"

* * *
"And now, in that boundless sky where our friend sought infinite possibilities, I see only death." - Hythlodaeus

Amaurot burns and Azem has yet to return. The Convocation of...Thirteen has unanimously decided to move forward with the plan to summon Zodiark, a mighty god-like creation of unprecedented scale. A notice has also been issued: a request for volunteers. The Zodiark concept has been checked and re-checked for error, the Words of Lahabrea toiling ceaselessly over their calculations and final adjustments. Half their number, the Speaker confirms. In order to supply the requisite aether to successfully conduct the ritual and bring Zodiark into being, half of their people will be needed.

"Hythlodaeus, please." Hades ignores the high pleading note in his voice as he at last catches up to his dearest friend, no doubt a sight and short on breath besides. Hythlodaeus hadn't been flittering about any of his usual haunts - and it had taken a surprising amount of effort to find him in the first place.

When Hythlodaeus doesn't immediately reply, Hades bulls the conversation forward anyway.

"You mustn't... With your wisdom and skill, surely you could do more for our people if you remained..."

Hythlodaeus smiles at last as he turns towards him, his heliotrope eyes quirking up at the corners. Though he speaks as lightly and pleasantly as always, something about his countenance doesn't quite ring true. "I was wise enough to recruit others who surpass me in every respect. Enough will survive me to ensure our work can continue."

Hades looks offended by the flippant response, the non-answer to the request he can do nothing but skirt around. The line he's towing that he daren't step over. Or does he? Hythlodaeus must misread him (though he never does), for he continues gently: "Azem has not forsaken us. She follows her heart, as she ever has, and seeks to defy this fate in her own way."

"Don't you think I know that!? There is no time, Hythlodaeus! We need solutions now. We have a duty to this star!"

His words are as a guttural howl, unable to hold back the flood of fury and sorrow that threatens to overtake him. Indeed, he had held out hope of Azem's return for as long as he might, even as they were forced to continue on without her. Any day, he had thought. Any moment she'd return. Soot-stained and beaming from ear to ear. The hero of the hour, the sunbeam cutting through this loathsome, nightmarish present. His incorrigible associate, indeed.

"You are right, Emet-Selch. You are right, and that is why I must place my faith in the Convocation's plan."

Emet-Selch. Not Hades. It's a reminder of what he must do. Of who he must be. Emet-Selch feels himself deflate.

For the hour of Zodiark's summoning is at hand.

He speaks again, but there is nothing left to say. Hythlodaeus has made his choice, and 'twould be a disservice to deny him. He cannot ask the impossible. After all, what right has he to revoke what Hythlodaeus has so selflessly given? The words hover unsaid, the whispers of his heart, and yet... he stills his agony. He stays his tongue against that monumental blow. Instead he says stubbornly: "This isn't goodbye."

(Please, Hyth. I need you...)

"Ah, of course not. Take care, my friend, and stay true." Hythlodaeus lifts his hand in apology and farewell and turns to go. He doesn't look back, nor does he slow his steps.

Emet-Selch watches him go, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm, his fist trembling as he slowly lowers it to his side. His jaw aches, a hissing breath escapes through his grit teeth as Hythlodaeus's silhouette wavers against a backdrop of fire and destruction. He feels as though he's suffocating, as if his insides, nay his vary soul, is being crushed underfoot. Loyal, devoted Hythlodaeus. The first person who ever called him "friend". He cannot imagine a world in which that beautiful color no longer exists, nor does he wish to.

And yet, he must carry on.

* * *
"From this life, our savior born...May I be worthy of the honor." - Elidibus

"The time is come," Lahabrea says. "We shall rewrite the laws of creation. And we shall save our star."

And thus the ritual begins.

He looks for Hythlodaeus. Futile as it is, Emet-Selch casts his eyes skyward as the great multitude join together as one. Before his Sight a kaleidoscope of brilliant hues swirl and blend into one another, a chorus building and growing until a form takes shape, powerful and magnificent. The will of the star, Zodiark - their salvation made manifest.

One would think that this might be the end of their woes. For indeed, Zodiark answer their prayers with potent efficiency, His darkness pouring deep into their hearts, calling to them to lift their voices and their hopes. The star is scoured of the abominations that remain and their creation magicks have been stabilized. The laws of the star are rewritten, and The Final Days are averted. Yet much lies in ruin. Their people are left reeling, and it is deemed that another sacrifice must be made - this time to return life to their still fragile and broken star. Some few begin to question their choice, to ask whether or not the price may be too steep.

Fools, the lot of them.

For this is only the beginning of what was to come. Only the beginning of the true end of their world...

Wedge | FF7: Remake | Closed

[due_reckoning]

Fill your lives with love and bravery (Cloud)

[due_reckoning]

Sometimes he wonders, with all the silly books and movies and plays that Jessie swoons over, if there's something... less about his feelings for Cloud. They always talk about love at first sight, a sort of inherent undeniable magnetism. Some way that you should just... know. Immediately.

And he didn't.

What he did know was that the blond was trying so hard to project a certain appearance. That he wanted to know what was underneath the aloof merc facade. Something he caught glimpses of in those first days but didn't feel like he actually saw. What he remembers, the moment that he really understood how much Cloud was putting on a facade...

He was sitting at a table, tense and anxious, wondering what had happened to the blond, if he was okay. His heart hammering in his throat in time with Biggs' pacing. Surely someone as skilled and powerful would be fine but with the news following the explosions it was impossible not to be an anxious mess. Anxious enough that he was too busy picking at his cuticles to even appreciate the celebratory fries Tifa had made up for him.

He felt horrible, letting her hard work go to waste. Something he never did. Ever. No one could afford for food to go to waste.

But then the doors opened and Cloud strolls in, collected as ever, grumpy and acting like he couldn't give a damn about any of them. Tifa teased him. A quiet exchange that had Wedge's curiosity piqued. But it was that moment, looking around to see they'd all been worried about him, to see Tifa's relieved smile and the playfulness it gave her the opportunity for... and watching that almost imperceptible panic creep into that vibrant mako gaze that really sealed the deal for Wedge. He could feel his own heart clench in sympathy, knowing that feeling all to well. Suddenly on the spot and needing to support so many expectations and the gnawing desperation to escape, to flee, to bury oneself away somewhere that no one need ever look to you again.

It's an agony he knows all too well and even if it is only for a fleeting moment he sees it. Maybe because it is something he understands so well, has watched others perform under in similar circumstances, that he recognizes the parallels between them so clearly.

And in that moment, with his mask slipping, all the careful walls he's built around himself trembling under the weight of so many gazes... he doesn't flee. He doesn't let himself panic or hide. Cloud takes that beautiful flower between fingers that Wedge knows all too well have committed a dozen acts of violence this night... and he bends down to offer it to a shy little girl whose spent the evening terrified her Daddy might not come home.

All the ways he could channel those feelings and uncertainties, a hundred ways that would further that image he struggles to maintain, and he chooses kindness first and foremost.

Wedge's chest is suddenly tight with emotion he doesn't quite understand, a bone deep longing setting in as he watches that simple exchange between Cloud and Marlene, watches this man they've turned to for strength and violence reach first for compassion and feels as though his heart might just break. He doesn't want to ask Cloud to work with them again. Doesn't want to see him forced to weild that massive sword once more. He wants to take the fleeting, fragile smile that is meant, in that moment, only for Marlene and help it to blossom into something far more lovely than any flower.

And he wants that smile all for himself.

It's foolish, really. That he'd even thought he could get away with moving about town without consequences. Still... he'd needed to check in on Biggs. Desperate in his own way to verify the man's safety once more. Again. and again.

It's inevitable, then, that he gets jumped by one of the little beasts. Wedge isn't one for hand to hand or any other kind of more archaic weaponry. His specialty is demolitions, not guns. Grenades over blades. Which also means it's not surprising that Cloud comes looking for him when the trip back from Biggs' cottage takes longer than it has any right to. He's not.... hurt exactly. A couple of scratches on his back where the little monster had clambered up onto his shoulders but the armored pauldrons protected him from most of the damage.

His red bandanna lays abandoned in the snow a few feet away, torn and bloody, a nasty wound on his temple but nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of antiseptic and some bandages. The headache leaves him curled up with an arm over his head, though, blocking out the brilliant winter sun and the way it glares off the pristine snow on the rooftops and makes his vision swim.

Thankfully, he's not far from their home.

[Angeal] Vertigo

[relativefugue]

Angeal is given a hell of a show whenever the intellect devourer he's locked in combat with finally explodes into a psionic shockwave. The memories it holds are...Jarring to say the very least.

---

"It's really comin' down, huh?" Cloud murmurs, looking out the back of the ShinRa transport he is riding along in. Across the way from him are two helmetted cadets, one of which he kneels down by to check on. The moment he gets close enough to the cadet's face, the memory flashes, twists, takes on a strange, mako-infused hue. Everything moves as though a videotape, skipping: "Hey man, feelin' any better?"

"I'm good..." The boy responds, with Cloud's exact same voice.

"Sure don't look it." He stands back up, posture...Pointedly different from what Angeal probably has ever seen from Cloud Strife. In fact, all of his movements and mannerisms, even down to his facial expressions and the way he interacts with the Buster Sword on his back, will likely be familiar in a very different way. "Wish I could help, but never been motion sick. Sorry, man."

He pats the shoulder of another recruit, attempting to raise his spirits. "Ready to do this?"

"Yeah, you bet."

Then he's pacing around the small space in the vehicle like an impatient puppy, finally opting to busy himself with doing squats.

The scene shifts, or rather lurches sickeningly, the image blurring and contorting and reforming into the next one as mako-colored static flickers on and on and on. Multiple short things play out in confusing succession.

"It's just one photo, c'mon, where's the harm in that?" Cloud says with a pleading smile, stopping short in front of Sephiroth. The First sighs, and acquiesces, leaving the blond practically bouncing in place trying to arrange himself in the right spot. Tifa, in a very fascinating choice of clothes, is by his side, watching with a smile of her own. A faceless, helmeted cadet waits lagging behind the group, seemingly standing vigil, shoulders slumped. More static, more lurching.

That seemingly same recruit, with Cloud's voice, shouts for Tifa to follow him to the exit of an old warehouse. In front of Cloud and Sephiroth, a terrible monster descends from on high with a deep roar. "You said you wanted to be a hero," Sephiroth comments, to which Cloud gives a wide eyed, almost smile whilst drawing the buster sword. "Wish I hadn't!"

Mid combat, Sephiroth gazes at Cloud, brows quirked. "You're practically panting."

"I'm excited," said with a bright, goofy grin.

"...Such a puppy."

Then, the image is swallowed by flames, which part to show Cloud facing off with Sephiroth within the Nibelheim reactor.

The final words Angeal hears before everything fades out are from Cloud.

"You killed my mom! You killed Tifa! My village- my home! I believed in you...No. Not you- whoever the hell you are!!!"

---

Back in the reality of the outskirts of Town, Cloud is not too far away from Angeal, finishing off his own small pack of intellect devourers. He assumes the First is doing just fine, meaning he only notices him stunned in place after the foes are dispatched and he bothers to look back. Dammit-

"Hey," the blond calls out, jogging over to wave an arm in front of Angeal's face. "You okay?"

[firsteditionbfs]

One would be forgiven for thinking that the response of stillness is simply an after effect of the ID psionic backlash. However, as Cloud jogs over, Angeal responds fairly quickly with a light smack at his arm. At this point, he's nearly used to the bullshit after affects - maybe a little faster than normal because of what he is. However, the exact specifics of what was in the blast...

Still without saying anything, he guides his hand back to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted shut. There... was a lot to take in, with that memory. Dizzying in a way that he's rarely ever felt.

The static-like mako effect. The reverb of hearing Cloud's voice, his voice in that moment. And...

A ping of loss and wistfulness. He knew those mannerisms. He'd know them anywhere. And that's how he knows for a damn fact that they're nothing like Cloud would be in a million years.

"You don't do squats," he mutters, brain still hurting a little bit as he mutters into his palm.

Closed

[berriedmemories]

I'll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well(Ravus)

[berriedmemories]

The memory is surprisingly sharp, given its age and the blur of fear and pain that accompanies it. It's hard to tell what's happening at first. It's the squeal of tires and an arm around him, clutching tight, that wakes him. The car goes off the road, gravel and dust kicking up around them as it lurches to a halt. Small fingers twist into the dark material of Nanny Amelia's dress, wide blue eyes blinking up at her in confusion. There's no gentle smile or reassuring warmth in pretty amber eyes to meet him, though.

Her gaze is focused back on the road, watching, tense and trembling like a skittish chocobo. The thought almost makes him giggle. He can still smell the distinctive scent of the birds on both of them, imagines he'll never forget the feeling of their feathers beneath his fingers. But he's exhausted from a long day and until Amelia asks something of him he really has no idea what's going on. Maybe there was an animal on the road?

Another smile from him at the idea of the little chick he'd gotten to hold chasing after him, demanding to come home with him. Surely Dad would let him have a bird, right?

That's when the first car explodes.

It's all chaos after that. Amelia pulling him in against her before he can see more than the brilliance of the fire. Commands shouted. Members of the crownsguard rushing to the battle. The shrieking of some daemonic thing behind them.

Amelia's arm around his shoulders, trying to keep him down as they slip out of the back seat and begin to move away from the caravan, away from the danger. Another cry of rage, another of pain, one guardsman sailing past them in a crumpled heap. Amelia's fingers at the side of his face, trying to force his gaze forward but not daring the risk of covering his eyes entirely.

It's all flames and noise and fear pounding in his ears until suddenly there's nothing but Amelia's scream in his ears and his face in the dirt. There's pain. At least... He thought there was. Can feel something hot and wet seeping into his shirt, his pants, the weight of Amelia above him. Tiny fingers curl in the dirt but he doesn't move. He tries so hard to scramble to his feet but his legs don't even twitch in response. There's just more blood. Too much blood. Even his childish understanding knows that much and when he manages to lift his head Amelia doesn't respond, doesn't put her hand over the back of his neck to keep him down as she had done a hundred times before when they'd practiced for something scary just like this.

"Miss 'Melia?" his voice slurred and slow, his head hurts, swims uncomfortably like it had when he had a really bad fever last year. There's still no answer but he can see additional headlights on the road, the Regalia at the head of the procession and even though he hurts he knows then it will be okay. The Regalia means his dad is coming. His dad and Cor will be driving and maybe even Clarus and Drautos will be with him.

He barely understands what's happening but the blue flash of the King's magic is familiar and safe and the horrible screaming creature can't get closer now. He reaches out, fingers curling in Amelia's dark hair, surprised to realize it is splayed out over him. Hadn't it been in a braid earlier? Had that monster cut Miss Amelia's pretty hair?

It's only then he begins to understand. All that blood. Too much blood for one small boy. Too much even for one small boy and the delicate young woman that laid atop him. Not for them both to be safe, to be okay. His shirt clings to him, soaked in it and he's suddenly very aware that it's not his.

Even though it should be.

It's only then that tears begin to trickle down his cheeks, thick and hot and his Dad is calling his name but everything seems to spin, his vision blurred with tears until suddenly everything goes dark.

What comes after is the strangest dream one that is odd but not as scary as it could be. Not with the fluffy little creature that guides him through it. He doesn't understand it, the weight of what it means to have such dark creatures in his mind. Years later, a decade in the future, Noctis will wonder if it was a hint even then of the darkness that lingers in his mind, the slow dragging agony of depression. A few more beyond that, when he meets those same creatures in the flesh, he will wonder a great deal more about what it means.

But he never doubts the things Carbuncle said to him in the dream, could never argue that the Regalia felt more like home to him than any room in the Citadel, than his apartment, than.... Anything really. She was the steadiest constant in his life, even more than Ignis though not by much.

The reminder, suddenly brought to the fore in his dreams, only makes the pang of loss all the sharper when he wakes in the wee hours of the morning. He slips carefully out of bed, drops a reassuring kiss to Prompto's temple, and moves through the house like a ghost. His eyes sharp as an owl's thanks to the dragon slumbering within him.

It's only once he's outside in the crisp pre-dawn air, the snow settled for the first time this week, the sky velvet dark and flecked with stars, that he sees the tracks in the snow. One of those little brain creatures had been skittering around the house. The tracks disappear into the attached cottage his father and Cor had been sharing. He should hunt the beast down but he finds himself staring into the cold dark glass of the windows and unable to urge himself to go to the door. And it's there he stays, frozen and feeling his heart breaking all over again when Ravus' patrol brings him near.