EVENT ▸ THE END

[futurologists]

THE BEGINNING IS THE END If tensions were high in Drakstaden before, they're practically colossal now. With the infiltration of the Broadcasting Station, the revelation of Ivarson's plot against the lower levels, the attack on the Vakdir prison, and the newly set curfew, Drakstadish citizens are now more divided than ever. Rumor has it that Prime Minister Ivarson is getting more erratic than ever, too, and spending all his resources hunting down the rebel group responsible for the upset. After a spirited discussion between Ophelia members, it becomes clear what their next plan of action is. All that's left to do is implement it. The day of reckoning is Ivarson's birthday, two days from now, so if you have anything to take care of, you'd better do it soon. ▸ BIRTHDAY PARTY When the fateful day comes, the Vakdir are on high alert. Anyone on the higher levels who looks like they don't belong is forcibly removed, and any slightly suspicious activity is highly scrutinized. The party itself is taking place at the Prime Minister's residence, and only high-ranking officials and corporate heads are attending; numerous police officers patrol the premises to keep undesirables from entering. There is also a film crew to broadcast the party across the city As discussed with Rost, Ophelia sends a "truth wave" of sorts out to the entire city. The truth wave forces anyone in its wake to face the lies they tell themselves; unfortunately, this includes Ophelia, since they, too, are in the city. Keep it together, because you're going to have to get moving. While the guards are reeling, it's time to break in to the party. Inside, it's lavish and filled with extravagant-looking food and drink, far more food and drink than is needed for the number of people in attendance, and expensive decorations involving gold and precious gems are everywhere. But the partygoers are in no shape to enjoy any of it anymore, most of them in visible pain from having to face the lies they had to tell themselves to live under this kind of regime. There are still a couple guards who seem relatively unaffected by the truth wave -- however, they can be dispatched by intimidation, persuasion, or force. Once inside, it's time to look for the temporal crystal shard. After some searching, the temporal crystal shard can be found in the Prime Minister's bedside drawer -- good hunch, Ophelia! However, just as it's found, Ivarson himself will burst through the door. It seems he, too, is unaffected by the truth wave. He does not tell himself lies, but rather truly believes in the evil things he says and does. "What are you doing?!" he demands to know. "That is my jewel!" He clearly doesn't know the true identity of the temporal crystal, only believing it to be a beautiful, valuable crystal. He will attempt to protect it even if outnumbered, as if it calls to him, but if it is destroyed, he will stumble back as if in physical pain. Its destruction will stun him, allowing Ophelia to leave without issue. Next on the agenda? Freeing the political prisoners. ▸ VAKDIR HQ Now that you've blown your cover by crashing the party and breaking into the Prime Minister's home, there's no more reason for secrecy. Free to use the full brunt of your eclectic powers to launch an assault the Vakdir Headquarters, it's easy enough to make it inside while most of the officers are still under the effects of the truth wave. Still, like at the Prime Minister's penthouse, there are some Vakdir present who aren't affected at all; like Ivarson, they are at peace with their way of life, with no self-delusions and no regrets. You'll need to dispatch these in whatever way you like -- fight them, charm them, or do something else -- but remember to keep at least a handful cognizant, because you'll need them for questioning. However you go about that is, again, up to you, but the guards will not reveal the location of the secret political prison easily. Luckily, those who have completed the bounty for Rost to investigate political prisoners will already know where it's located: underneath the Vakdir Headquarters, separate from the main prison that some of you were broken out of just days ago. The guards are in the same state here as they are elsewhere -- most are incapacitated but some aren't -- but in addition to that, now you'll have to contend with locks on the various doors leading in. Break them or get some Vakdir to do it for you, but either way, it's a few layers of bolted doors before the political prisoners are found. They're in bad shape and are surprised to see someone here that isn't an armed guard, but aren't about to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Free them and escort them back to the lower levels before the truth effect wears off. ▸ EPILOGUE Rost is grateful for your assistance in freeing the prisoners, albeit slightly shaken by the experience of the truth wave. Their hope is that everyone in the city will have felt the true horrors of their actions and that the first steps toward peace can now be made. With the temporal shard located and destroyed, it's time to leave Drakstaden and return to Headquarters, a simple matter of the familiar bright light of a temporal rift and the immediate relocation afterwards. Thanks to the fluid nature of the Timeline across the multiverse, Timeline Analysts are able to quickly decipher the fate of Drakstaden within hours of Ophelia's return; it seems as though Ivarson's sudden disconnect from the temporal shard caused his health to quickly decline to the point where he was no longer considered fit for office. The truth wave helped some see the errors of their ways but not all, ultimately resulting in a civil war. The war left many dead on both sides, with surrounding countries finally intervening and taking as many refugees in as they could. Eventually, Drakstaden was abandoned and left to decay out on the taiga as a looming, thirty story ghost town. The future beyond that is murky, but Hathaway will continue to monitor that universe's timeline. But try not to dwell on it! The nature of time is unpredictable, and no one ever said this job would be easy. Until your next mission, take advantage of the amenities that Headquarters has to offer, and try to relax. ▸ OOC NOTES This is the final log of Mission: Drakstaden! We hope you enjoyed your time here. Characters have returned to Headquarters as of the epilogue, so feel free to continue on from there. If you have questions about this log or the mission, please direct them to the dossier. Questions about the game in general can be directed to the FAQ. ▸ CR/Welcome Meme ▸ Drakstaden Dossier ▸ Drakstaden Locations ▸ Drakstaden Bounty Board ▸ May Calendar

Comments

[gunning]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. PRESIDENT

[ there's a moment during the chaos where all yuna can do is stand and watch, still as a post in a doorway as people writhe on the floor and flee the premises. she's sad. this was the solution that seemed best to her, the one that would cause the least casualties, but a mind isn't an easy thing to heal — there wasn't any sure way to allay scars on your soul. even though these people should be abhorrent to her, she can't help but feel some sympathy. she was this way, too. bound by her eyes to falsehood.

and really, she's a little sad for herself too. sometimes she wanted time to allow herself to be selfish. time to mourn a lifetime of hardship. always looking ahead meant sometimes being unable to reflect. now wasn't a great time for that, but she didn't really have the option to ignore how she felt right now. it isn't a pervading sadness, but a subtle one, a wistfulness for the people that had departed, and for tidus.. the man she loved. it would be a long time before she saw him again. she knew that realistically. and it was better to deal with that feeling head on, right here, than to dwell until it festered. ]

Hey. It's going to be alright. [ if you're feeling unwell, or look like you're straggling, yuna's there to put a hand on your back. ] We have to keep going. It's almost over now.

EPILOGUE

[ she had hoped that it would end as bloodless as possible, but it looks like that wasn't the case. did she make the right choice? that was the hardest part about this. making your own answers to problems was always sticky.

also, she hated sitting around. like, a lot. she's parked firmly on a bench at the park, picking at a cupcake. she thought sweets would help her nerves. it kind of didn't. ]

Geez, what's there to do on this ship anyway? [ train endlessly. go shopping. eat till you burst. that was great and all, but a girl gets bored of it fast. she sighs melodramatically. ] Rikku would make her own fun right about now. She'd say we should throw a concert, or have a pool party. Or both? It is summertime back on Besaid.

[ that's not how the timelines work but ya know. chronologically speaking! ]

WILDCARD

[ hit me with whatever, especially if your character wants to like cry about their sad life or something! available at vanilladome. ]

2

[epistolatory]

[ Violet herself sits calmly nearby, click-clacking away on an old-fashioned typewriter, her demeanour doll-like and unreadable as always. Not that they've crossed paths before, but Violet is noticeable for how expressionless she is, so it's possible they've noted each other before. Violet pauses in her typing when she hears Yuna speak, however. In her usual monotone, she replies-- ]

I have never been to a party before... [ Or does the one with Iris count, she wonders? That was over before it had begun. ]

I was led to believe that they are typically only thrown when there is something to be celebrated.

[ yikes. ]

1

[persists]

[ It was some noble sacrifice, was it not? The ones that wouldn't result in them meeting in the afterlife, but instead humbling themselves and tormenting their souls for only a short while. It was the least they could do — this was one of the first times she hopes to stand tall without an ounce of need to run and carry this burden herself.

Ciri is joining Yuna, shaking her own cobwebs and trying to stuff the skeletons in her closet. Streaks of black drip down her cheeks — the tears unable to be tucked away even through heavy make up. She wouldn't comment instead using the back of her hand to push away the streaks. ]

Right. Just a bit longer.

[ She tries to remove the thoughts of those sacrificing themselves for her, the guilt of her refusing to ascend a throne to a nation that needs her — her voice is husky, tired and sore. ]

When we're ready, they'll be scattered and vulnerable. It won't be hard to finish this.

Hayame | OTA

[kisha]

０１ ↣ 認めたくないのは ↣ TRUTH WAVE*

[After what had happened in the team discussions on Hanabira, a world she had considered herself largely comfortable with... Hayame had removed herself from the discourse in Drakstaden. She did not truly understand this place, and the way these people lived... and she did not consider herself able to render judgement on what should be done with their world. She would execute the orders.

But this- perhaps she should have gone. Perhaps she should have put her hoof down, argued until she was hoarse- but she hadn't, and so now she is here. Standing in the dark spaces between the packed architecture of the city, long bow in hand and heavy arrow notched, looking down from a distance over where the party is to take place.

Taking a position on watch, she hopes, will spare her from being seen by most of the team. Will allow her to face whatever this truth might do to her in at least minimal privacy. But when the wave hits, when the spell begins working its way through her mind... her knuckles go white on the bow and her muscles begin to tense in rejection, jaw to grit as the roar of a waterfall and a voice she hasn't heard in a year echoes in the back of her mind.

You were relieved, weren't you? When I saved you. Don't you want to live in a world where it's alright to feel happy about that?]

０２ ↣ 復讐 ↣ VAKDIR RETRIBUTION

[The mission was one thing, but Hayame's grudge with the Vakdir is personal. She has scores to settle, and though most of them had kept their helmets on, preventing her from going after individuals... she is keeping her eye out for one with a particular gait and half an ear missing. Until she finds him, she does not spare any mercy for those Vakdir who are still wrestling with their truths.

She doesn't try to kill them. But she also does not waste her efforts trying not to.

Once they make it to the prison beneath the earth, though... there are doors that require passing, and no Vakdir on hand with passcodes. Instead, Hayame turns to her "teammate", hand moving to touch the ring on her finger.]

- Where are the "cameras" in this hall?

[She'll kick the damn thing down if she has to.]

０３ ↣ お帰り ↣ HEADQUARTERS

[The return to Headquarters is more welcome than usual. She is glad to leave Drakstaden behind, and though she feels pity for those people, and the war that supposedly awaits them now that some of them have accepted their reality and some have not... she had never considered herself, or even the whole group, enough to prevent a war. And she has more pressing things to occupy her mind. More pressing truths.

The spaceship is no Oska. She can't just run through the woods, through the fields until she tires. But there is a bit of green space on Headquarters, and so the first chance she gets... she gallops, long mane and tail trailing out behind her in an inky black wave, fingers tight in the harness she wears on equine half to align her spine and fall into a smooth rhythm, hooves tearing up the artificially cultivated grass lap after lap-

Except this isn't the wilds, it's technically a park space... and when a fellow guild member wanders into her path... she has about two seconds to decide whether to try and slam on the brakes, dodge, or jump.

With the way the muscles in her back legs bunch up... maybe you should duck?]

０４ ↣ 鬼札を引く ↣ WILDCARD

[*only 2-3 hits please! If that prompt is full up or you'd prefer a custom starter, just hit me up via comment or at stormcoming]

for korra | special delivery

[kisha]

[Hayame keeps her promises, and pays her debts.

Having to ask for a healer, let alone one of the ones that worked in ways foreign to her world and what she liked to accept, had been trial enough. But at least Korra had been able to name a price that made sense to her.

Shortly after their return to Headquarters... Hayame, back to her natural form and her proper clothing, knocks on the door to the bender's quarters, a thick pelt bundled in her arms.]

HQ hi rizu

[damnpire]

What is that noise? It sounds like... a horse? [It's easy for D to hear the galloping. He could hear it on the other side as Hayame looped around. But he doesn't move from his stop in her path, a tall and exceedingly dark shape now that he's back in his normal outfit and hat.

Hm. It's not a horse. Not exactly. The upper half is definitely a woman. She looks like... perhaps one of the mutants that the Nobility cultivated, the ones scattered across the Frontier or living safely behind the walls of the Barbarois.] No. Something else.

It's coming-- D! It's going to run into you! D!

[He literally doesn't budge as Hayame gets closer. It's less he thinks she'll stop and more--at the last second, he drops down into a low squat, reaching up to hold his hat. If she jumps, she can clear him overhead without incident. And when he stands back up after, he doesn't seem to be perturbed by the altercation. Everything is still in place.]

03

[juniberries]

[The return feels somber upon learning the proposed fate of the planet they now leave behind. A civil war upon the horizon...it's bitter. Upsetting. Allura almost wonders if the planet would have fared better had they in fact left everything alone, but then the oppressive forces would--

She swallows her agitation down. It's her fault; she had done so little, so little compared to others having to grapple with her own personal issues that have popped up between her teammates from home that she lost sight of the mission ahead. That's what she's convinced herself, at least, and Allura doesn't necessarily take defeat all that well.

She's gone out to train in what little greenery there is on Headquarters, dressed in training gear and heading to practice with her bayard in an empty space. She's too preoccupied that she notices an approaching...animal?? too little too late, and were it not for her expert hearing they would have surely crashed.

Luckily, Allura ducks, summoning her shield up over her in case Hayame trips up on her jump.]

03

[theseuschip]

[ Simon is distracted, as is common these days, pacing and staring at the memorial fountain; he can’t seem to stay still, no matter how little he’s actually doing.

Good news: he always has some neurons/RAM allocated to the sound (or sight) of something charging him from behind. Granted, his reaction isn’t the most graceful when he realizes he’s about to be plowed into by a centaur — rather than duck he kind of just throws himself backward onto the ground with a yelp and throws an arm over his face.

but uh

good enough??? ]

[justbeingknife]

BIRTHDAY PARTY (Drakstaden)

[ A brief flick of the lighter in his hand, and his cigarette was alight; Majima waited a few moments, watching with admittedly not much sympathy as a man covered in gem-encrusted jewelry clutched at his temples. This looked like a man who was resisting the moral of this story. He also looked like the same man Majima had seen administering orders to security earlier.

"It's... it's not my fault!" the man moaned. He had a ridiculous cybernetic monocle mounted on his face, and he clutched at Majima, whose dark formal tux at least offered some comfort to him in its familiarity. "If they'd just been willing to put in the work, like I did..." ]

Think we both know that's not true, buddy.

[ So. Was it time to play good cop... or was it time to play bad cop? ]

A LITTLE PRESCRIPTION SHOULD CLEAR THAT RIGHT UP (Headquarters)

[ Majima was standing in front of a sign at one of the restaurants, a glowing, holographic monstrosity that depicted a giant, reaching crab with moving legs. The brightly-colored text that surrounded it? ]

ONE-DAY CRAB CHALLENGE! ALL THE CRAB YOU CAN SUBDUE!*

* We assume no liability for personal injuries.

[ I mean, he did like crab. He turned to the first person to come along, hooking a thumb at the advertisement. ]

Feel like some seafood?

WILDCARD

[ whatever ur heart desires ]

attack of the space crabs

[kisha]

[One day □□□□ □□□□□□□□□. All the □□□□ you can □□□□□□.

Hayame has improved somewhat. She can read... part of the sign. And the giant illusion of a crab goes a long way to providing context to at least fill in the blanks. Still... she cannot help stare at the sign with her brows knit, arms crossed.]

... I suppose?

[Back in her proper form, she isn't about to actually turn down food when she can get it. (Until she notices that... having all this food consistently available with Hathaway and their recent mission destinations means she's actually starting to put on a touch of weight.)]

party time

[fourscores]

[There was a definite flaw in this plan, an absolutely stupid flaw. Truth affecting the people of Drakstaden was fine, but also the team? Not okay. Especially not him. Mostly this was about him.]

It most certainly is not, and the sooner you realize that the better.

[Jhin stands rubbing the bridge of his nose, glaring in Majima and the man's direction. He looks absolutely irritated, and about ready to punch down every single person in the city that's forced him to face the lies he tells himself daily.

Bad cop, the answer is definitely bad cop.]

crabs

[tenthousandmiles]

[Ginko pauses in his walk along the promenade as he's addressed, looking up at the indicated advertisement. He raises an eyebrow.]

"All you can subdue?" That seems unsafe.

ciri / ota

[persists]

one — don't cry for me, little girl.

[ On paper, it sounds a lot more simple. A necessary sacrifice Ophelia would need to play to complete this mission, to do good. Her inexperience with formalities and politics lead her to go along with the plan, finding it a direct path to the known evil. What she fails to comprehend is how deeply the truth latches to her beating heart, bringing the tightness to an all-time discomfort.

The new warrior to Ophelia was all but strong when one knee drops to the ground.

She joked with Urahara — about how simple a truth serum would be to assist them on this mission, but there's some cruel irony when it causes this.

The guilt, the anger, the bitterness, the desperate desire to do good — Ciri feels herself pulled into the different roles that people want her to live. A Witcher, an Empress, a girl, a woman, a lover, a friend, a daughter, a catalyst... her truth is that all of those meld together in the beautiful chemistry of what makes her the girl of Space and Time. That burden weighs her down to the ground, tears beginning to stream down her face when she thinks of her own freedom. Even in this moment, is she free? Truthfully? Her regrets stem of the loss of life for her loved ones, unable to protect them. ]

two — it's time to fight

[ She's gathered her barings, using the shadows outside of the headquarters to provide her temporary relief. While she isn't eager to jump into the fray, there's no way they would leave a mission half-assed, right? She pulls her sword from her back, letting its weight rest in her palm. ]

Alright, then. It seems since we've arrived persuasion and subtly has not been our strong suit. I doubt it'll be the same. Are you ready for this?

[ She implies: a fight. ]

three — ashes to ashes

[ Ciri is thrilled to leave this city behind and move onward. Headquarters isn't exactly home, but it'll be far more safe and suitable for a woman like her than this political mess. The best thing? A shower. Indoor plumbing rocks, y'all. 10/10. Leaving her own bed quarters, Ciri's hair is all but wet and sprawled out down her back. Of course, she's fully dressed but it's different than the woman in the shadows.

Despite how she came off during the mission, there's a sense of relief about the woman that is easy to see throughout her wandering.

She'll take her chance to explore, curious like a child at all of the marvels allotted to them. ]

wildcard — go for it!

[ i'm open to all! please feel free to throw some ideas at me! through pm or <user name="cirilla" site="plurk.com'> works well! ]

1.

[kisha]

[The truth could be a painful thing.

Hayame has accepted many of the things she had once turned away from, for fear that facing them would render her unable to continue surviving. But since ALASTAIR, since Hathaway... she may not have put it into words, may not have told anyone else... but she knew. She knew what she'd done.

What she hadn't expected was the invasive memories of things she'd tried long to block out, even away from her world. Hopes and longings for things like happiness and freedom that she had spent her entire life suppressing, that she has never allowed herself and always denied wishing for.

The warm voice of comfort that had extended to her the offer echoing now in her head as the truth spell makes its way through the city, and her resistance to facing the weakness of such a thing makes her knuckles whiten on her bow, makes her teeth grit audibly and her borrowed human knees lock. She looks for anything to focus on but that, anything at all, and her dilated gaze falls to the white-haired woman near her. Swallows thickly, summoning the effort to bark,]

Stand up.

[Don't disgrace this mission with weakness. Don't betray yourself.

Though perhaps she was talking to herself as much as Ciri. Possibly the only reason she hadn't joined the other woman on one knee was the fact that she wielded a six foot tall bow that now kept her standing.]

2.

[predomination]

[Urahara's steeled himself for this since he helped Loki make the truth wave. Being at the epicenter at least gave him a little more preparation for it, and time has made him better equipped at facing the things he tells himself that may not necessarily be true.

The end result of the wave is really just that he's more focused, and less inclined to let others handle the fighting. Here he is on the front lines, pulling the wispy blade from the sheath inside his cane, staring down the Vakdir headquarters.]

As ready as I'll ever be. I should have known it was going to come to this one way or another.

2

[temperedavatar]

[Korra had felt pretty useful the last time they broke into a prison, so this seemed like a good place to help. She isn't shaken by the truth wave like the others, most likely because she has already faced her demons back home. It's still raw at times, and not easy, she has a feeling her guild mates are going to be recovering for awhile.
She just wishes it was as easy as healing a physical wound, but she knows from personal experience it is not.

But that is a future concern and now she needs to focus on their fight against the Vakdir. She hasn't properly met the person she's about to go into battle with, but she doesn't let that bother her too much either.]

I'm ready.

3 wildcard-ish; tags everyone at hq ig

[damnpire]

[When Ciri comes down to the lower decks to explore, she will find D in the hangar. More specifically, she will find his dark, tall figure seated on a stool in the diagnostics and repair garage.

Surprisingly, he's lacking the encompassing cloak and the spaulders, losing most of his intimidation, but he's still in the form-fitted kevlar shirt and the pants typical of his outfit. His face has newer additions: a stiff, metal mask to cover his mouth and nose and a pair of streamlined, reflective shades, shimmering iridescent along the dark lenses. Strangely, he's lacking the thick, leather work gloves sitting on the bench some ways down.

Sparks periodically ignite him and the area, bright and sharp with the light from the welding gun, and the device hisses when he touches whatever it is pinched between a bench vice. When Ciri skirts into the hangar, he pauses briefly to glance up, though his eyes are hidden behind the shield of the shades. He does appear to be watching her, however, like he may think she wants something.]

Ginko | Mushishi

[tenthousandmiles]

i. birthday party

[When the truth wave hits, Ginko is perhaps one of the few that's relatively unaffected. The thing is, he's had some twenty years to come to be at peace with himself and his place in the world. Most of his own personal demons and insecurities are things he's already confronted; he knows them, and accepts them.

It puts him in a good position to be able to pass the guards fairly unhindered as they struggle with their own denials, though he isn't without sympathy for them. The truth can sometimes be difficult to face -- in his career as a mushishi, he's even hidden it intentionally on occasion, because the lie was kinder.

There's nothing to be done for the guards, since they still have a mission to complete, but for any struggling teammates, he does spare a moment to ask:]

Holding up alright?

ii. headquarters

[Ginko finds himself deeply troubled by the announcement of the upcoming civil war in Drakstaden. It's not quite guilt, as there were few good options for a country with such deeply entrenched problems, but he can't help but think if they knew the outcome from the destruction of the temporal crystal, they should go back and undo it before it comes to pass. They had gone to Hanabira just to prevent a civil war, after all.

Not for the first time, Ginko wonders if he is truly cut out for this work. He had little to contribute in this mission, in the end; not only was he unfamiliar with matters of politics, but he had no familiarity with the advanced technology of Drakstaden. Not only that, but he'd been largely unable to provide support with combat, either...

He finds himself gravitating toward the park spaces, ultimately -- more comfortable with the natural feel of the plants and small animals than the rest of the sterile and mechanical environment. Even these feel barren to Ginko, who is so used to seeing the world overflow with life everywhere he looked, and he oddly finds himself almost ... searching, just in case. It's a silly thought, of course; there is no koumyaku here, and thus no mushi. It's for the best, given his need to live here until his contract is fulfilled, but it's an odd feeling. Lonely, maybe, if in a different way than he's ever experienced it.

Ginko's lost far enough in thought that he momentarily loses track of his immediate surroundings, accidentally bumping into another person that's walking through the area. He offers an apologetic smile:]

Ah, forgive me. I wasn't watching where I was going.

II

[temperedavatar]

[Korra hadn't really had a chance to explore the Headquarters, since it had seemed that as soon as she was done helping with the Azeria mission it had been time to help with the Drakstaden mission. She's only a little surprised to find a park area, though after all the technology and lack of open space on Drakstaden its a welcome reprieve.

She'd feel even better if there was a place with snow, but she'd accept this as a compromise.

That being said, even she's a little distracted as she walks. It's funny that her mission begins and ends by bumping into a stranger. Still, she's fairly solid and so it really only jostles her a bit. She returns the smile, bobbing her head.]

No problem. I wasn't really paying much attention either. It's just so nice to be in an open space for a change.

[Even if it's still in the middle of a ship.]

I AM LATE forgive me... i

[undeserved]

[ the worst of it, she's tried to put behind her; there's a mission she has to complete, and she'd be a sad excuse for an android if she let her emotions get in the way of that (ha.) It seems like she's not doing quite as good a job doing so as she'd like, however, seeing as one of her teammates notices her flagging. The effects might have been strongest at the outset, but they linger - of course they do, or else this whole plan wouldn't work at all. Knowledge she wishes she didn't have and truths she pretended not to see cling to her electronic brain, and even with her blindfold back on, it's hard to mistake the grimace on her face. Keen eyes might even spot the remnants of tears.

Of course, she doesn't acknowledge any of it. When Ginko approaches her, she shakes her head stiffly. ]

I'm... fine. Let's keep moving.

Adrian "Alucard" Ţepeş

[reposing]

❧ I. happy birthday mr. president

[There is a great cruelty to truth.

The wave hits him so suddenly, as he is sure it does to others. Masquerades torn away, falsehoods revealed, even the lies they tell themselves. It shreds away, even for Alucard, and his hand scrambles up his own chest, digging in and remembering the terrible scar there. He thinks of his father, mad with grief. His mother, dead for her love and kindness for others, nothing but ashes in the wind of his homeland. After everything, he could not even collect them.

Her pleas. Be better than them.

Why does he fight for humanity?

Because it's what my mother would have wanted. Not out of some selfless heroism. Not out of love for humans. Not out of love for anything but the dead and the insane, gone out of his grasp.

Everything is finite. Everything ends. Everything breaks and dies, no matter how they may deem themselves immortal. Even those he's called friend, it won't matter. He will say good-bye them, he will fight his father; Dracula will die, and then there's nothing else.

It is cruel, but that is the truth.

Alucard chokes for a moment, and does not see fit to even bother stopping the tears rolling down his cheeks. He bares his teeth for a moment, gritting them, unsure of what else to do for a moment as he staggers forward.

Then he shakes his head.]

We have to press on.

[There is no noble determination in his voice. It is sullen acceptance.]


❧ II. vakdir hq

[What echos and lingers in his body does not melt away. It may very well ring inside for months to come, but he knows, knows what it means for him.

Alucard steps forward, not concerned for recognition.

There is little mercy in his bones.]

I will leave at least one of them alive.

[His voice is cold and distant.]


❧ III. epilogue

[At the end of it all, Alucard still feels hollow. Perhaps more now that the results of Drakstaden's future is known to them. Everything breaks eventually. Civilizations, people, all of it. It is damned to end, one day.

Alucard is sitting by one of the windows, gazing out into the cosmos quietly to himself. Stars pass them by. It is vast and incredible out there. Cold, dark, and inviting.

There is a kind of comfort to it, in a way.

He says nothing, even should someone approach him. Still, he is available for conversation, should someone see fit.]


❧ IV. wildcard

[make your own prompt, or request something more specific!]

i

[fourscores]

Are you all right Adrian?

[The tears are a pretty big indicator that he's not, but Jhin's not in the best state of mind to really question further than that. His fingers tapping away at the side of his leg, clearly agitated and in some form of pain from the wave. Four taps, then a pause, then four. Always four. His lies aren't lies, his art isn't evil... Just focus on Adrian's problems, that'll certainly distract him.]

You don't look so well.

[undeserved]

BIRTHDAY

[ Just because she distances herself from the discussions and the proceedings doesn't mean she's unaware of what went on; she knows full well what's about to happen. The "truth wave" isn't terribly different from a virus that can affect humans as well. It's not a particularly pleasant comparison for her. Less pleasant for the knowledge that she's going to have to deal with it herself. All 2B can hope is that her self-awareness will stave off the brunt of the effects. She has a mission to complete. They still need her.

But hope has never done a damn thing for her, and it doesn't do anything now. The fact of the matter is that she's propped herself up on all variety of lies for most of her life. That what YoRHa was doing was right. That it was noble to fight for humanity, that this is what humanity wanted her to do. That she believed in any of it and all of it. That she had to believe it. Just to survive. Because she has to. She convinced herself that she had to. And even if she knew, deep down, that it was bleak, meaningless slaughter, that her existence was as brief and pointless as a candle in the wind, and even if she's been slowly coming to terms with reality the longer she remains here, her processors can offer only brittle resistance to the effects of the truth wave as the full weight of that knowledge crushes down on them.

She projects a stoic and unflappable image to the crew; she is an android, after all. It might be surprising to see her stumble now, as they prepare to head out, and to see artificial tears forming and falling from her eyes before she can stop them. All she can do is feebly try to hide them (misguided shame, or further attempts to run away from the truth), slipping her blindfold back on as hastily as she can. ]

EPILOGUE/HEADQUARTERS

[ they achieved their goal; the temporal shard was retrieved, and they initiated a change in Drakstaden. That was all they were supposed to do. This time, she has no time to take photographs or bring any memento of the world she just left - or ruined.

It's not her fault, of course. She was just following orders. The familiar thought process is old, tired, and does nothing to soothe her unease when she hears the results of their mission. Though she's free to leave, 2B remains in the upper deck for some time - perhaps waiting for 9S, or maybe simply not yet willing to leave what happened here behind. ]

Inquiry: Mission: Drakstaden was completed according to guild parameters, yet unit 2B appears dissatisfied. Why?

[ the masculine, robotic voice of Pod 042 resounds as it hovers in front of her in the corridor; she responds with a short sigh and a shake of her head. ]

... A lot of humans died. Again.

[ is every mission going to be like this? ]

WILDCARD

[ pm this journal if you want to set something up - or just go wild and make up something of your own back at HQ! ]

[kisha]

[Hayame has never liked being on Headquarters. Being in the black, amongst the stars, reminded of how very small and insignificant her life was. Despite all the pain and struggles and suffering... the effort she has put into surviving (not living)... this is what they are. Flecks of dust in the cosmos.

She forces herself to stay on the upper deck this time. To stare through the window out at space and let herself feel that actual weight of it. Feel the uncomfortable hardness of the ship floors beneath her hooves. Resettle into her rightful form now that they had no need to play human any longer.

The pod's voice registers only barely, but her focus is drawn back enough to hear 2B's answer more clearly. To turn her gaze away from the haunting stars and to the android instead. She means to try and say something comforting- she thinks. But what comes out is,]

... Humans will always kill each other.

[How was it that something crafted, made of metal, seemed to feel so much better than she did?]

Khada Jhin ■ ota

[fourscores]

■ I. WHAT A PARTY

[The plan wasn't something he agreed with, but it was what the team wanted and who was he to argue that? The only reason he stuck around after ALASTAIR was because of what he was offered. He doesn't care about these missions, about the team. They can do what they wish. Though perhaps he should have altered his act some, because this- this truth wave hits him hard.

Jhin finds himself rubbing his temples, trying to stay focused, but that's not so easy. Such is the life of a serial killer whose compulsions make it impossible to stop. Compulsions he's fallen victim to on missions. But his work is beautiful. Justified. It's not evil. All the lies he's been telling himself for years swarm him, which is painful as it is irritating.

It's wrong what he does, but he can't help it. That doesn't make it okay. He's a monster. A demon. He could have been stopped ages ago. Damn Kusho and his inability to manage even that.

Gritting his teeth, Jhin slams a fist into a wall. He's fine. Just ignore it and finish the mission. Focus on something else. Anything else.]

■ II. EPILOGUE

[The mission was by far one of the worst he's experienced, and he's more than happy to be back at Headquarters. Back somewhere he can relax and forget about the abysmal truths he was forced to experience. That nagging voice in the back of his head, he can finally bury and hope it never sees the light again.

Except he hasn't been relaxing since he got back. In fact he's barely slept.

Jhin's at one of the parks, sitting in the grass and looking utterly exhausted. As nice as Headquarters is, the small bit of nature reminds him most of home, and really after everything, home is what he feels he needs right about now.]

You don't have a care in the world, do you? Such a simple life, only ever having to focus on food.

[He sighs, watching his poro roll around the grass in front of him. He's about ready to fall asleep right there if no one stops him.]

■ III. WILDCARD

[If there's something else you wanna do, throw it at me, or hit me up (twasbrillig) if you want a closed starter thingy.]

II.

[justbeingknife]

Cute sheep. Rabbit. Whatever.

[ He was going to split the difference and say... lambit. Majima stood at the edge of a small tree's shadow, offered Jhin what appeared to be a canned beverage. ]

Can't sleep?

Scott Summers | OTA

[evenslimmer]

01. YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH (YOU DAMN WALLFLOWER)

[ If asked, Scott could give a significant list of reasons why he objectively perceived this to be the best solution. It gives everyone a chance to reckon with themselves and what was going on. Given the revelation, maybe they could do the right thing. Maybe they could push for a solution for themselves, armed with the right knowledge to take action. And he'd thought, whatever the cost, it would be better than assassination.

And he thought he was prepared. How could it hurt any worse than the moment Hank of the Future showed up in his life, and told him he was destined to murder the man who gave him a purpose? How could it devastate him more than coming face to face with a version of himself broken beyond repair?

He's never been much for parties, even ones filled with friends. So it's for the best maybe, that Scott's lingering outside the main festivities near the restrooms when the wave hits. Like needles in his veins and steel wool in his mind. Like Emma Frost forcing her way along his synapses, burning her own ideas into his brain in white lightning. It hurts, and Scott gasps as his knees try to give out underneath him, half doubled over. It feels like fire in his chest. The sort of fire he sometimes has nightmares about, even as he chases his own kind of ressurection. How could any man be expected to be fire and life incarnate? How can you lead if you can't even speak? How much can you hold in before it becomes brittle, and you break? He knows better than to think of that as stability. He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know what it means to be a good leader, only that it's not— that. But to not be that...

Scott shoves open the door to the bathroom and stumbles in, the door slamming abruptly behind him. He leans against it and sinks down, glasses clattering on the tile as he curls up and tries to breathe through it. Just breathe, and it'll pass. Breathe. ]


02. THE CENTER CANNOT HOLD (OR HOLD BACK)
[ There's something the professor told him once, before there were X-Men, when it was just him and Scott alone and he was young and uncertain and all he wanted in life was to be ordinary, not cursed. A truly powerful man doesn't need strength. He needs control.

He's struggling for it now. Everything aches, and the fire's still burning in his brain and his guts. Scott's on his feet through sheer force of will, but the sweat on his face and the bright glare from the line of his visor suggests it's a thinly-held control. But still, he's here. Still in some semblance of control.

It's very calm, the look on his face, listening to the hapless Vakdir spit insults and defiance. He's trying to do this the diplomatic way. Trying to give him the chance to do the right thing. But no, he won't open the door to the downstairs prison, he won't give up the code. No, they won't yield to fucking freaks...

And he thinks, he doesn't want to waste time on this. ]

That's fine.

[ The heel of his foot slams down hard on the man's groin. Scott won't kill. Never, if he can have his way. But a Summers plays to win. ]

I don't really need you.

[ He presses the button on his visor, and blasts. A solid beam of ruby red blows the solid steel door off its hinges and slams it back into the opposite wall, a full 30 feet. And takes at least a foot on each side of the surrounding wall with it.

If he has blow through every last trooper and blast every last damn door of its hinges to get this done, he will. ]


03. NOT ONLY ARE THERE NO HAPPY ENDINGS, THERE AREN'T EVEN ANY ENDINGS (BUT THERE ARE EPILOGUES)

[ It's one thing to know the inevitability: that your choices will one day lead to fatalities, that lives hang in the balance. They'd done the right thing. He'd been so sure of that. They'd given people the chance to make it right for themselves...and it hadn't come right at all. Maybe it never could have come right.

And there's still that phantom fire when he closes his eyes at night. Things he didn't want to know about himself, about his life. He doesn't sleep much. He doesn't get out much, doesn't want to speak to people when he still doesn't know what to say. Even if he knows he's doing the exact thing he shouldn't, he still hasn't wrestled with it all enough to reach out and ask for help. Begin talking about it.

Scott spends his days doing one of two things:

i. Training, relentlessly. Maniacally, working through the forms on a heavy bag until his hands turn red, and the skin on his knuckles splits. Bruises on his arms and his shins where he's practiced blows. Relentless, methodical. Obsessive. Compulsive. If he just does it one more time— one more punch, one more kick— each one gets better—

It might become obvious, after a few (more than a few) hours, that he's stuck. Trapped in a loop. Repetitive mechanical skill, over and over and over.


ii. And when he's not training, or lurking in his room, he's roaming some very specific stores. Bookstroes, grabbing what he can, anything that randomly looks interesting: political theory, philosophy. Old adventure novels from universes he'll never see. And then paper, so much paper. Burning through reams of stationary and notebooks, like he's speed writing the next great American novel (or dozens of letters half-started and failed, words wrestled onto the page and discarded.)

And bottles of whiskey. These obtained late at night—not every night, but even every other night, but regularly—and always stuck in his jacket as he heads back to his room, knowing that this is a bad idea. But it's a lot. It's a lot, and he just— if he could just get a little clarity, it might all fall into place. Or it might all be quiet enough in his mind, just for an hour or two. (He's smarter than this, and he knows it, but...desperate times.) ]


04. WILDCARD
[ If none of these appeal, I'm open to all ideas! Hit me up via PM or on plurk at ohmygodbees. ]

[closed to 2B]

[evenslimmer]

[ There's only so much you can teach yourself, so many times you can work through the motions without an opponent. Scott knows that if he doesn't change it up, he'll start thinking again, and he doesn't want to spend too much time alone with his thoughts. He's tired of his own brooding.

Asking 2B comes easier than reaching out to any of the others. She won't ask too many questions about why he's so intensely driven to work. She won't care if he doesn't want to talk about what's happened with the mission, or at least won't take it personally. (Or so he thinks.) She won't tire.

(And, though he wouldn't admit to this—he thinks she might not know enough about human beings to know when to tell him to stop.) ]

Okay. [ His ego apparently hasn't taken enough beating, because she's knocked him flat on his ass too many times to count. But Scott's still getting back up. ] Okay. Let's go again.

[theseuschip]

i. the truth prompt

[ Finding out that they can’t actually just avoid the truth bomb was not great. Simon has enough self-awareness to know it would be a bad time, but what are they supposed to do? Their only other option was murder. And he couldn’t justify that just to avoid this, but—

The augmented spell reaches right into his digitized brain, the copy made before he was told he’d die; before Ashley’s funeral; before the comet hit the Earth and left it barren and uninhabitable. Before he was thrust into a foreign existence, suffocating in its wrongness, as something half-dead and half-robotic, at the bottom of the ocean in an unrecognizable future. It goes straight past the part that knows it all happened and grabs for the part that doesn’t believe it. The part of him that refuses to come to grips with his current existence because that means admitting that every trace of his human one is gone.

And this precarious denial-fort doesn’t go quietly. It’s survived interdimensional travel, and when doesn’t self-delusion have to be pulled into the open kicking and screaming?

He’s braced a shoulder against a wall, hands in fists against his face, (superfluous) breathing like that of a wounded animal. ]

—no, no, no, no no no—

[ well, on the ‘staying aware of your surroundings and what you’re supposed to be doing’ front, it’s not super great, although most of the guards are in no condition to police distraught agents. ]

ii. epilogue

[ The worst thing about the truthpocalypse is that once you drag all that stuff out, it doesn’t seem to want to fit the same way when you try to shove it back in. But Simon is working on it.

Focusing on the mission they just came from is one way to do it. And it’s hard not to focus on it, because... he’s heard of some of the missions their more senior guildmates have been on, but this one ended shockingly badly. It’s possible that there was no good ending for Drakstaden, but still. ]

Was there something else we could have done?

[ if you like to hang out at the parks, or in corridors looking out into the vast expanses of space, you might be getting this question. Outside of his room, those are his haunts lately. ]

iii. wildcard

[ the usual — throw something at me or hmu at honchkrow with whatever, i’m easy like sunday morning ]

2

[gunning]

[ yuna was a frequent visitor of the parks. it reminded her of home — lush and overgrown. that's how she liked things to be. anything to mechanical and cold felt foreign to her, and made her think of errors in spira's past.

she's been upset about the mission's failure too, but trying to enjoy their time off. simon was clearly a debbie downer, because in an instant, he brings her right back down to his level. ]

If there was, I wasn't perceptive enough to see it. [ she frowns. she can't blame the people who came up with the plan. it's not like she contributed there. ] I hope things improve. For better or worse, something like this.. might have been inevitable. We just accelerated it.