( closed ) PLAYER PLOT: STILL WATERS

[dashing]

WHO: Alistair, Herian, Myr, Nell, Prompto, Saoirse, Wren.
WHAT: ( Plot post ) Shady rumours concerning the Tranquil lead to a remote Circle in the Northern Anderfels. Its relative isolation from the rest of Thedas has prevented news from reaching the Inquisition sooner. Our crack team investigates.
WHEN: forward dated, around 21st-ish Cloudreach
WHERE: Salzklippe, the Anderfels.
NOTES: Content Warning for violence, murder, and other grim Dragon Age things. The grief demon threads in particular include themes of death, suicide, and gore. Please add additional warnings to subject lines where necessary.

— Making the approach (group thread) — Into the catacombs (individual starters) — Discovering the lake (group thread) — Into the tower (individual starters) — Bossfight (multiple group-ish) — Later Stuff (individual starters) FOR GROUP THREADS: in order to keep threads moving, I will be aiming to do a GM tag once every 24 hours. Don't worry about a strict tagging order, but please don't tag more than three times every 24 hours, just to make sure no one gets left behind.

Comments

[sulena]

It has taken time for things to fall into place. There is a lot of unknown to take in with the images that surround them, things she has never seen nor dreamed before suddenly an odd sort of half-reality shown to them. It is partly why it takes longer to focus on who this is for but once it does, she feels her heart race quickly, looking around--

"Prompto!" There are many dangers here, more than she can explain but the easiest is what is currently resting its hand on his shoulder. She can't even begin to speak, hurriedly reaching for his elbow to drag him back and to her-- away from the creature.

[crowncitizen]

It's odd. Prompto could have sworn he was alone, aside from Lupeo, but then suddenly he hears Saoirse. He turns around and there she is, reaching out for him. "Hey, what is it?" He tilts his head. "She was gonna offer to help Ignis. With his eyesight. Maybe he can see again..."

[sulena]

"Listen to me," she says with a gentle touch. Everything is still slightly out of place, blurry around the edges and Saoirse has no idea just how long this creature has been speaking to Prompto. "Our magic, even the magic of a spirit healer, cannot heal what has happened to him. If so then Anders or Christine would have already done so... don't you think?"

Her focus then shifts, narrowed on Lupeo and her usual soft features darken slightly. "And whatever this thing is cannot help. It is not a spirit of love nor compassion or even wisdom. It seeks to dominate, not coexist-- the sort of spirit that would turn a mage into an abomination and wreck misery on whomever it came across."

[dashing]

"Do you think they've really done everything they could? You know how people can be— pretending to be your friends. People in this world judge rifters just for who they are. Do you honestly think they'd really try their hardest for someone from another world?"

She shakes her head, holding her hand out in offering, an appeal to return to her, after being pulled away.

"Even your beloved wants to bring an end to the possibility. Even her."

[faithlikeaseed]

“They might not. But they’d try for one of their own.” There wasn’t any gainsaying the prejudice against rifters—any more than there is the one against elves, or mages. Thinking of which, here is Myr—or he’s been here, or will be, in that hazy way of things oneiric. “If It were possible, d’you think I’d go about as I do?”

Not in the Fade, at least; here he’s whole and as he was before the fall of Hasmal’s tower, hazel eyes flickering curiously over the mess of scenery assembled—lingering on Prompto and Saoirse. (Always good, to see friends, however dire the circumstances. And how suited they are for each other!)

“Saoirse is right—the demon’s offering what can’t be done.”

[crowncitizen]

Prompto's emotions war with each other, pulling back and forth between Saoirse and Lupeo. He so wants to hold out hope for Ignis, that there's some way to help him. Something about Lupeo's words call to him, draw him to her. But Saoirse... she wouldn't lie to him, would she? She likes Ignis. She'd tell him if there was a way. But what if she just simply didn't know about it, and this spirit knew another way? Or what if Lupeo really was lying, just to get to him? "I..."

He doesn't know. He just doesn't know. What does he do? He clutches his head, fingers digging into his scalp. What he wouldn't give to have Iggy himself here, or Aranea, or someone to-

“They might not. But they’d try for one of their own.”

Prompto's head snaps up, surprised to see... is that Myr? Astrals, he almost didn't recognize him without the blindfold.

“If It were possible, d’you think I’d go about as I do?”

No, no he wouldn't. And if anyone can speak to that, it's Myr. Still, it's hard, having that last bit of hope crushed; his shoulders sag with the feeling. There's no helping Ignis. But at least he has an answer, because Myr and Saoirse both wouldn't lie to him.

"...thank you." He smiles at Myr. "I just hoped - well, even if there was a way, that's Iggy's choice, not mine." His hand reaches over to give Saoirse's hand a squeeze before he turns to Lupeo. "Sorry. I might be a rifter, but that doesn't mean they don't care about me."

[dashing]

"Doesn't it?"

There is a momentary beeping sound, a flicker of light. Something distinctly unnatural, and less in the manner of magic and more the unhealthy greenish white of fluorescents. Lupeo begins to twist, body falling away as though charred, black ashes peeling off like burned paper carried on the breeze, blue coals and black smoke coming up in the spaces where Lupeo's skin had once been.

They are viewing Insomnia through a window no longer, and are instead in the cold metal of a laboratory. Modern, though, utterly alien to the likes to Myr and Saoirse and even Lupeo, but that just makes it all the more exciting.

"Unit zero-five-nine-five-three-two-three-four confirmed.

Warning: this unit has been compromised. Initiating retrieval of compromised unit."

Retrieval. Compromised.
Her voice is so different; mechanical, detached, the words shaped unnaturally, without the natural flow of speech. There is a sound like air being released, pressure relieved, and Saoirse and Myr are contained in glass tubes, touched with a strange green light. (They are not the only capsules. They are not the only figures encased.)

"They did care. But your old friends used to, as well. You held on so desperately."

[crowncitizen]

This is not a place he ever wanted to see again.

Prompto sucks in a breath, body rigid in fear and shock as the scene unfurls around him. The rows of tubes, the noises, the lights - it's all the same. He's back in that awful place, the place of his "birth". Short of Verstael or Ardyn showing up, it's a scene straight from his memory. What little stability and confidence he got from Saoirse and Myr quickly evaporates as panic sets in.

"What did you do to Saoirse and Myr?!" he demands as he searches the glass tubes, heart slamming against his chest with each one he passes. "None of my friends are 'old', they're all still my friends!"

[dashing]

"Are they?"

The voice twists, distorts. Echoes now, along the rows, an oddly polished, posh element to it.

There's no solid form, or at least, not one easily visible amongst the glass tubes of clones. So similar to Prompto, if Prompto had not yet acquired his spark. They are just bodies, suspended, left without personhood.

"You were made to bring their destruction."

[crowncitizen]

He was. His entire reason for existence was to harm Lucians, to harm Noctis and his family. That weight hangs on him. What he wouldn't give to see Aranea right now and have her knock sense into him.

The clones of him - his brothers in a twisted way - make him recoil. He hates looking in the tubes, and yet he keeps trying. He has to find Myr and Saoirse.

"But that's not what I am. I'm their friend. Ignis said I told them and they accepted me." He tries to find the source of the voice, too, but he can't see anyone else outside the rows and rows of clones around them. "Now tell me where Saoirse and Myr are!"