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Who: Everyone
When: July 1 and onward. See this post for info.
Where: Kauto + Chioni + Ingress Complex
Warnings: Potential violence. Please label warn-worthy content in your subject headers.

There's a burst of light in the sky when the Ingress breaks, a final flare followed by a shuddering that only those in the facility can feel. A flurry of panicked activity in the complex follows, ushering new arrivals to where they need to go in a hurry, with little time to give them the needed information, much less answer questions. The lights remain on, but dimmer now, life functions still operating but little else. On Kauto and Chioni below, the sky fades into an early twilight, followed by night, and day does not come again.

nerds save the world

Before the end of the day, all TABs receive an emergency broadcast notification outlining the situation. The speaker, a lead Savriite Ingress technician, does not invite panic but nor does he mince words. The Ingress is broken; their best efforts have failed to restore it. The time has come to turn to anyone who can help: scientists, engineers, those who have worked with advanced technology on any world. Formal qualifications don't matter when it could be the end of everything.

"Help us. Before it is too late."

Those who come will have the run of the complex and full access to the Ingress, as well as whatever tools are available and as much coffee as they can drink. People are encouraged to work in groups and share ideas, and a small number of young and nervous technical assistants will be on hand.

the land below

As Thisavrou is denied light and warmth, the weather becomes brisk and descends into bitter cold. Chioni is evacuated due to the effects on the already-harsh weather cycles there, although a skeleton crew of scientists remain behind. On Kauto, the arboreal Region Three and pastoral Region Two suffer the most from the temperatures and the snow that eventually begins to fall. Many crops are frozen over, and refugee citizens are driven from their homes to the Regions One and Five, where stored energy will keep dwellings warm. Save for those who choose to leave the underwater facilities, Region Four remains largely unchanged, but there are unverified accounts of strange aquatic animal behavior near the surface.

Overcrowding, limited supplies and a pervasive fear presents the opportunity for both heroism and foul deeds. Many come together to share resources, supplies and fellowship in what could be the end of worlds, while others take what they can from the unwilling or exploit the desperate. Sentient evacuees are followed by fauna from Region Three and unsettled lands beyond, in search of warmth or food or merely confused by the change in habitat. Some are unthreatening herbivores, while tanglesnakes and clownbees are more troublesome. Others are poisonous hunters, while still others are small, but dangerous when faced as a pack.

Just when all seems lost, light returns to the sky. The Ingress begins to function once more.

the coming days

As the temperatures rise, many demand answers, but most turn to the rebuilding of their lives first. Damage has been done that isn't so easily fixed, and even in the least-affected areas, remnants of the crisis show in the lack of fresh food, in the increased signs of criminal activity. Those who can help others through their own efforts of by organizing assistance are needed, but those with impure intentions are more likely to go unnoticed.

Eavesdropping on the streets may reveal a desire for vengeance. "Those intruders from last week. They're responsible for this, aren't they? What's being done?" But don't listen too closely, or a suspicious eye may be turned on you. "Aren't you one of the refugees from the Midway Hub? You should return to where you came from! All the trouble began when your people showed up!"

Life goes on. But life does not go on unchanged.

[quick ooc note: the Region 4 search & retrieval mission/RNG fight will be posted in a separate log.]

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[It would be laughable, were he not so disconcertingly sincere. If it were not so unnerving, the way the intermediaries leave those in their wake with a painful, terrifying need for touch, as if that might hold them in place. They reel back, back, looking for all the world as though they are about to draw their Knife if he makes a single movement to touch them again.

No one touches them.]

So you're their poster boy now. Is that it?

[He lets them pull away and just looks at them with something like concern in his eyes. How could he have missed Chara's own damage before? Just another testament to his own selfishness. Just another person Lavellan had hurt because of his own uncaring.

His gut churns. There's so much he has to make up for.

Still, he lets them keep their distance.]

I'm not anything, Chara. I never was.

[What was done to him. What turned him into this. It's manifested differently, inexplicably, between him and Shepard, but it's possible their time spent with the intermediaries differed in more ways than one.

There is no satisfaction in victory. There is no increase of a number. There is only the unease that settles in their bones, that has their hand grasping at the hilt of the Knife at their side, as if that may be enough to fend off the encroaching sense of wrongness that emanates from him like a curse.]

What did they show you.

[He's doing something wrong; he doesn't understand why Chara is reacting this way. He wants to be reassuring but all he seems to be doing is making them distrust him more. He starts to reach out--

No. This isn't about what he wants to happen, but that he causes to happen. Whatever he's doing isn't helping Chara. Dial it back.]

They helped me realize I was only hurting the people around me, because I only cared about myself. They showed me how to be better. They helped me, Chara, it's not--it doesn't have to be anything to be scared of.

[If he's pleading, it's because he wants Chara to understand they can have this too. The intermediaries want to help. Chara only needs to let them.]

They made you better.

[They're, ha ha, they're being weird, aren't they? Fingertips twisting at the fabric of their sweater at their sleeves, stretching the threads, because holding rigid and still has no longer become tenable for a vast and all-encompassing variety of reasons.]

No.

[The word curls into a snarl as they retreat, another step back, another.]

You saw what they did to Shepard. What they -

[What they did to me was excusable.]

What they did to Shepard?

[Lavellan curls in on himself at the reminder. That's right. He'd done what he did because of Shepard--or he'd thought he had. Because he'd jumped to conclusions. Wanted to play the hero, regardless of what that meant for other people. All of it, pointless, because he'd been wrong about what was happening the entire time.

That's right. He'd almost forgotten, because they refused to tell him what they'd done. Said he didn't deserve to be rewarded for his behavior. What he'd done would have hurt her far worse, and he didn't care about that at all, did he? So he didn't deserve answers.

He breathes out. He can't fix that. It's in the past. He can't think like that anymore. He needs to look forward. Look forward.

Whatever they'd done for her she must have needed. That's what they do.]

They just make you face yourself. It can be hard, when you're-- [as terrible and selfish as he is. they'd called him a monster because he was and he still is

he swallows.]

It's hard, but it needs to be done. Shepard is strong. [stronger than him] She'll make it through.

[Something else occurs to him. Shepard must have been released, while he'd been in mediation, if Chara has spoken with her. Should he go to her? No. No, he couldn't possibly face her after what he'd tried to claim in her name. The guilt is still too much. He should be strong enough but he's not and he closes his eyes and gives a silent apology to his guide for failing her faith in him like this.]

[That earns a laugh. It's harsh, bright, uncompromising. They make you face yourself. They make you see how terrible you must be. Well, they hardly require any enlightening assists from the circles of someone else's spotlight to discern that much.

Their jaw flexes, clenching.]

Do not tell me you've forgotten, already, that her crimes were not her own.

[She took the fall on the behalf of this demon child, as if that would benefit anyone. As if that consequence could be avoided. They did this, to her - and then, by extension, to him as well.

Sin will always come home to roost.

It is inescapable.]

[No, he hadn't forgotten. But it had been put out of his mind. He doesn't feel guilt for that--or, at least he doesn't think he does. After all, it was the intermediaries who had helped him focus on what was really important.

He shouldn't. That wasn't something he'd done wrong. That was what he'd been supposed to do.

Wasn't it?

For the first time, a little spark of something sets off in the back of his mind.

Doubt.]

Then it must have been for another purpose. [That's all he can say. He can't pretend to understand how the intermediaries operate, only that they know what's best. So whatever they had done must have been for the best.

And there's still another question.] Why didn't you ever turn yourself in?

[They wouldn't have hurt Chara. That's not what they do.]

And now you are amnestic as well as deaf.

[Don't. Don't.

Control yourself. Stop pitching fits, crying for attention, whining and wailing because the adult won't listen to you. Are you truly surprised at a thing like that? Are you truly surprised at all?

Fingertips digging into their forearms, tearing tiny red crescents into the skin.]

You think I didn't try?

They had a more efficient means of punishment in store.

[Watching someone else bear the burden of their consequences.]

Stop!

[Without even thinking he reaches forward to pry their arms apart, before they can hurt themselves further. His hands shake as he reaches into his shirt for the cloth seedbag, and shakes them all onto the ground before he places it over the new cuts on their arms, exerting just enough strength to keep them from reaching for themself again. To hurt themself.

It's barely anything, but it's all he can offer right now. He wishes he knew what else to do, but this isn't--he doesn't work like them, he doesn't know how to help.]

Don't do that. Please.

[Of course! Naturally! He would know better than they would, what it is they want, what's best for them! He would deserve to have a greater control over this body they did not even want, this recreation of thing long dead, a corpse that should all rights be little more than a rotted hollow of itself!

Again, they strain to pull away, but they're laughing. Laughing too hard to overpower someone larger and stronger than they.]

Because you know best, do you not?

[Just as quickly he releases their arms as if burned and rocks back on his heels, folding back to hold himself again. He was doing it again. Doing what he wanted, what made him feel better, and not what other people needed. He was doing it again, they'd worked so hard to set him straight and here he was making the same mistakes as soon as they released him. He's not ready for this, he's already failed. He shouldn't be out here if he's going to immediately fall back into his old habits.

A wretch willing to sweep countless others into the dark to play the part of the hero for a little while. He didn't want to be that person anymore.]

I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't mean-- [It's not about what he meant. Stop making a scene. Shut up. This isn't about him, it's about Chara, what he's doing to Chara. Shut up. Shut up. Focus on how to fix this.]

I'm only making things worse. I'm sorry. I should leave.

[It's like talking to Frisk. It's even worse than talking to Frisk! Gone is the resistance, the firmness with which he'd refuted them. They may as well have uttered no warning whatsoever.

His propensity for touch, of all things, remained.

How excellent.]

They had their way with you.

[Another laugh, low and unsteady, as they rock back, shifting weight away from him.

That's your fault, isn't it?]

They had their way with you, didn't they?

[That of all things gets him surging to his feet with a flash of anger, even if at the peak of it he jerks himself backward to hit the wall of the alley, squeezing his eyes shut. All of that and now, was he trying to intimidate a child? He just makes this worse and worse with everything he does.]

They didn't do anything to me.

[And that's the crux of all of this, apparently, Chara convinced that what the intermediaries do is punishment when it isn't. He wasn't punished. He isn't a victim. He is the exact opposite of those things. They showed him more kindness than they should have.

That Chara would think that was a punishment is almost offensive to him. Still, he forces his breathing to calm. Don't do what he wants. Do what helps.]

I can't make you believe me. And I won't try, if you're not ready to. But you are wrong about this, Chara. I hope you can understand that someday.

[And yet, I couldn't stop laughing.]

Inform them, if you would, that they did a poor job of it. The real you was far more irritating.

[They would take that exasperated self-righteousness over this, this thing shilling intermediary propaganda. At least that was familiar. At least that was something one such as they could understand; frustration, and hatred for the thing that was singlehandedly to blame for everything that would follow.

For Shepard. For this.]

The real me.

[He laughs, once, bitterly, and his head rolls back against the wall. Even now it's cold, and empty, and the air is thick with fear and desperation. And none of it needed to happen at all. That's what you call hubris, he supposes.]

You mean the person I was when I turned off the sun. Forgive me if I don't want to be him anymore.

[Everyone's laughing! It's hilarious, isn't it? It's the very pinnacle of humor! Are they contemplating a double suicide?

Their LOVE ends in hell.]

There is no escaping what we are. [A hand to their chest, to the rotted sickness lying heavy in their SOUL. Decomposing, no doubt, from the inside out. Fingertips fisting at the fabric of their sweater, balling it up beneath their palm.]

Do you truly believe Shepard is better off the way she is now?

[He lolls back to look at Chara for a long moment. Again, that small spark of doubt scratches at him. He knows he'd just been wrong about Shepard, and yet. And yet--

What was it Cole had said?

There is no blood, no bruises, not battered, but still broken apart. She is trying to hold onto so many pieces.

He had wondered for so long what that had meant, it nearly drove him mad, and then--somehow--he had just forgotten about it. They'd told him he was wrong to ask.

But here it is again, resurfacing, like something he'd only dreamed about. Why had he been so worried before?

What was Chara trying to say to him now?]

What do you mean? What way is she?

[Has he forgotten already?

Has he forgotten, or has he simply not encountered her since his release, and hers? Will the pair of them crossing paths generate anything more than the equivalent of two fax machines spitting streams of predetermined data, incapable of acknowledging or admitting to that which has ripped them asunder, damaged them at their very CORE?

Everything he did, he did for her. He did for her sake.

How quickly he forgets.

Their jaw sets, eyes narrowing in as much disgust as they can possibly bring to bear.]

Why not see for yourself?

[Something rattles up through his spine, a weird, sick sensation that isn't quite fear. Apprehension, maybe. He has a sudden sense that he's treading the line of something dangerous, something that he can't undo if he continues forward.

There is comfort in ignorance, and for a moment he considers staying in it. But he's never been able to do that. It's what will eventually kill him, he figures.

Whatever this is, this trap he's about to spring, he can't just walk away from. It will eat at him forever if he does.

It doesn't have to be what he thinks it is. He just wants the truth. Maybe Chara is wrong. Maybe they're all wrong.]

Where is she now?

Her apartment, no doubt.

[Let him see the fruits of his labor, as Chara did. Let him see what it is his efforts have reaped, as Chara has. Let him witness, first hand, what it is the intermediaries are capable of helping, the manifold good they do by ripping into someone's mind and opening it like rotting fruit.

The urge to reach beneath their shirtsleeves, scratch and scratch until it's all gone, claws at them, but not while he's here.

They're not about to let him witness that again.]

You will have to try her several times, I imagine; it seems reprogramming her to be social was not high on the list of priorities for her caretakers.

[Her apartment. All right. That's where he needs to go. He has a direction now. A goal.]

Thank you, Chara.

[Mindlessly, he begins to gather up the seeds he'd placed on the ground, in the process of his makeshift bandage. It seems a waste to just leave them there, even though he's forgotten any use he had for them. His own garden will be dead now, and he has more important things to worry about than his own silly indulgences.

Maybe that's why he says the most inane thing of the whole conversation so far.]

Do you want these?

[...he would not know. Would he? Or has that, too, been relegated to common knowledge? A child's life and death spoken in whispered undertone across the Underground, their every error and personality flaw seeded into a set of tapes uncovered by a nosy Royal Scientist with sticky fingers.

And he knows full well what it is you did, you dirty brother killer. He must know, because he knows everything that you sought to keep hidden, because nothing is safe from him.

Is Lavellan, here, the same way?

He must be.

The temptation pulls at their fingertips. Difficult to shunt aside; their LOVE is to blame for that.

But they lift their chin, imperious.]

Why would I want your garbage?

[Lavellan just nods at them, absently, like he hadn't expected anything else. He puts the seeds loose into a pocket, and leaves the pouch with Chara. It's sticky with their blood at this point, and they can use it or throw it away as they please.

He doesn't know what he'll do with the seeds, either, but they at least shouldn't be thrown away. There's some good to them yet. He just needs to find someone who can bring it out.]

Do you want to come with me?

[He means to Shepard's. That's where he's going, right now. It's not a request or an offer; just a question. He won't insist either way. He's done with you shoulds. Chara can do what they want.]

[He's trying. That much is obvious. He's attempting to be peaceable, to be better than he was. Does any of that matter, in the end, when it's manufactured emotion? When it hardly counts as him really saying it?

The disconnect is impossible to ignore.]

Do as you like, sir; I daresay she's had her fill of me already.

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lavelly - 2017-07-09 01:23 (UTC) - Expand

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inconsequence - 2017-07-09 02:22 (UTC) - Expand

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nerds save the world

the land below

the coming days

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cw lil bit of self harm

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this is like a positive feedback loop of ridiculous melodrama

i'm not sure what we expected but

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