hugtopia_logs | ♥ January (Lasra) Event Log

♥ January (Lasra) Event Log

a winter scene showing a line of houses, each a different colour, and a church in the background

January (Lasra) Event Log
Are you feeling free of last year's burdens, offworlders? The natives certainly are after spending the final month of the year at Rawna's temples. Now it's time for a new beginning even as the cold deepens, leaving snow drifts piled along Havenwell's streets. Industrious robots are hard at work keeping the city clean and removing any ice from the stone roads, leaving only beautiful winter scenery behind. The city sparkles under the snow and the silvery white decor brings out of their temples the priests not only for Rawna, but all of the gods.

❥ PROMPT I: The Temple Celebrations

lights decoring trees in front of a church

As noted in the Intro Log, the residents of Havenwell have been invited to help with the decorations in order to incorporate your worlds' cultures with their own, and to assist in celebrating the new year's coming. Residents are encouraged to visit any temple at their convenience or pleasure and join in the design process. There are craft tables, ranging from basic (for the younger or less skilled, such as kites or papercraft) to intricate and advanced designs (like glass lanterns or embroidery). Those less creatively-inclined are welcome to use their various skills, magics, or just ladder-balancing talents to help with the decoration installations around town. Many hands make light the work, after all.

Each temple has music playing and all of them have their associated animals not inside the temple like normal, but spread all over the temple grounds and surrounding areas. They aren't lost for once, but seem to be beckoning people toward their respective homes which are bedecked with holograms of dark green leafy boughs, ribbons, and ornaments all in the temple's colors. Diacht has red and white striped ornaments, Ohma has blue and gold, and Ainea is bringing up the cute factor with pink and purple. But Rawna is looking especially resplendent with rainbow sheened silver ornaments hung in the air, mixed in with real ones that are suspended from wires so thin they look as if they're hanging in midair. The dragonlings fly through the air, trailing silver ribbons behind them that make the temple really seem to shine this month. At each temple, simply by showing up, you can receive a small gift from the priests regardless of whether or not you're an adherent. And they invite you to play the temple games or dance along to the festive music playing from speakers. Each temple has something different to offer, so grab a friend and make your first visit of the year a special one!

Ainea:

Rawna:

Ohma:

Diacht:

❥ PROMPT II: Your Yearly (Mis)Fortunes

a hand pulling a fortune in front of a set of temple drawers

At each temple along all the other celebrations and games, you can also find a separate booth that has a strange and unreadable Aellyn script on it. The robot sitting behind the booth has their face covered with a strip of fabric that obscures it completely, but it calls out to you when you walk by. It offers you an ancient-looking wooden container with a single small hole at the top. If you take it, it mimes shaking the container and tipping it over. Do as they say and a wooden stick pops out of the top with that same strange script on it. The robot takes a look at what you got and takes the container back, passing you a single strip of paper with reverence. "Keep your fortune close or learn to let it go," it says, and then looks to find another patron. Turn your paper over and discover what your fortune holds for you.

Big Luck:

Medium Luck:

Small Luck:

Bad Luck:

Terrible Luck:

OOC: If you wish to roll for a random fortune, leave an comment with your character's name in the Request Thread. The mods will randomize for you and give you your fortune. Your character can only claim 1 fortune, no matter how many times they attempt the fortune-teller's game. Feel free to choose your own fortune instead, if you would prefer a set result.

❥ PROMPT III: Memories of the Sun (VR)

This seasonal VR simulation is especially popular with the natives for the fact that it lets them see their world as it used to be. Load into the simulation "Memories of the Sun" and you'll be transported along with all others who are currently logged in to make a pilgrimage up Aellyn's most sacred mountain. Although its peak is rocky and somewhat barren, it has a serene beauty as it reaches up through the cloud layer and you climb upwards through the dark. The path is clearly lit by small lamps embedded into the ground, but you might find it easier to take the climb if you hang onto someone else. Once you reach the peak, whether you're alone or with someone else, you'll be treated to the sight of a gorgeous sunrise peeking over the thinning clouds. It's a sight to remember, and a sight that brings memories. As you watch you're overcome with a very real vision of your home, a place you remember, or people you know. This vision is typically of a better time in your life, something to bring you hope and peace as the new year dawns - but not always. Is this a vision of your past? Your future? Of your present? If you came here with someone else, they can also choose to share in your vision and you in theirs. Are you brave enough to face what the mountain has to show you?

❥ PROMPT IV: All the Ups and Downs

And while the celebrations continue, there seems to be something a little awry with Havenwell. Here and there throughout the month, gravity has gone utterly haywire. You can be walking from temple to temple or going about your everyday life when suddenly you feel yourself lifted off the ground or heavier than you have any right to be. Havenwell's natives aren't immune to this effect either, and you might see a robot go shooting up into the sky suddenly to hover a good five to ten feet in the air. Or they might take a step and suddenly fall flat on their faces, their gears whirring with the strain as they try to pick themselves up. Thankfully the other natives are quick to jump up and grab their companions if they're flying overhead or pull their friends out of the well if they're stuck to the ground. If you find yourself caught up in these gravity wells, you'll need someone's help to do the same. Be sure to pay it forward because you'll never know when it could be you in this awkward position.

This event will run from January 15 to January 31. Click on each prompt's title to see the text. If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the FAQ or to the Mod Question thread below.

This post is meant to act as a catch-all for convenience, but feel free to make your own posts if you prefer!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's tired, after the festival, barely awake and half-burrowed against his nursemaid's sleeve. It was a good day, mostly. Next time he'll remember a bottle, to bring the fireflies home with him. Her voice is soft at his ear, ever-polite and gently indulgent.

"Your father will be happy just to hear about your day, Prince Noctis. It's such a pity he couldn't make it today."

The reminder sends a wave of bitter loneliness through his heart, and he tries stubbornly to squash it. What's one more broken promise? He's always busy, there's always something else that needs to be done. Always a Crownsguard quietly passing a message along with the king's regrets. He's just a child, anyway, not someone who actually matters. There'll be no use for him until he's older.

"He doesn't care."

Maybe he never did. But if that's so, then all he needs to do is pretend not to care, either.

He closes his eyes, to sleep, and to ignore whatever empty placations she might offer this time, but then the car ahead of them bursts into flames--]

[--it hurts.

He's drenched, soaked and sticky with a warm liquid that glimmers in the firelight. There's a body sprawled over him, still as death; long dark hair tickles against his skin. Looking up, he can see it now: a giant snake with the head of a woman, six blades lifted and smeared with red. He needs to get up, he needs to run away. It isn't safe here.

He tries, but he can't move. He can't feel his legs.

Am I dying? He feels like he's dying.

Help-

-help me-

Her blades are met by flashes of light, tearing between them, his silent prayers answered. Magic swords? He knows them. Of course he knows them, he can feel them in the air, resonating in his own blood.

Dad.

Daddy's here.

There's a horrible scream filling the air, and he feels himself jostled as the Crownsguard close ranks around him. Between their silhouettes, he can see his father in the distance, infuriated and unshakeable as he drives the daemon back. It roars and thrashes, but it can't fight back against the power of kings. He wants to watch, longs to cheer his father on, but his vision blurs as the last of his strength leaves him. He's never felt darkness before, didn't know it was a thing to be felt. He can feel it now, though. It flows through his veins like poison, constricts around his heart, and it hurts, it hurts so much. Daddy, he wants to cry. He can't find his voice.

He can't feel his legs. He can't feel much of anything, now.

Suddenly his father is there, shouting his name, leaning over him, lifting him up and holding him close, but the darkness pulls him and he falls away into nothing.

I don't want to go--

Dad--]

[--soft fur and a sweet voice greets him, gently nuzzling him upright. He doesn't know what this is, but it feels good, and it's nice to him, so he wants to play.

someone doesn't want you to wake up.

But he is awake? Oh well, it doesn't matter. This world is fun and new, away from all the troubles and dangers that he knows exist but can't remember. He is led through landscapes and structures both familiar and new, vanquishing foes like the heroes from his storybooks, with magic and swords and his new friend until he's guided home at last, until the monsters are banished and the Regalia is before him.

now I get it--THIS is your safe place!

you can always be with your dad when you're riding in his car.

It is, it is his safe place. As he opens the door, the familiarity of it makes his heart ache. It even smells like him, sun-soaked leather and metal and scents he can't place but are unmistakably his. There's a grateful smile on his lips as he curls up on the plush fabric, closes his eyes, and waits for his father to find him.

"Wait- I remember your name now--"]

[--and when he wakes at last, his father is there, sitting a quiet vigil at his bedside, his small hand clasped in those weary aging fingers. The man's eyes crinkle at the corners, and he smiles, relieved, full of a soft love that masks an aching, secret fear that Noctis won't understand for some time. He can't remember his father ever looking at him like that. He can't remember his father looking at anyone like that.

"Noct… I won't let anyone hurt you."

It's another promise, the latest out of a hundred or more that came before it, so many broken or half-formed. He believes this one, though, has not a shred of doubt in his heart as he gazes up at the man who holds him as if he can't bear to let go for a second.

He still can't feel his legs. He's tired, and sore, and there's a sickness that lingers, deep and unsettling. But he's not alone. He's safe. Dad's here.

Dad's with me.]

[ It is the exhaustion that envelopes Era first — the tiredness of a day well spent. She watches a young prince curled up with his matron, drowsiness settling in, halfway to slumber when the woman speaks soft reassurances in his ear.

'A pity he couldn't make it today.'

When can he ever? Not today or yesterday or tomorrow. Promises mean nothing if they're not kept, and their father never keeps them. If he really wanted to he could make time. If he really cared, he would.

Instead they're left feeling bitter, abandoned, and alone. All they have is the Crownsguard, and it's not like they really care either — it's their job to keep them safe, until they're grown up enough to finally be useful.

They close their eyes, deciding to sleep instead of listen to further platitudes (it's not like they haven't heard them all before, anyway), but then the car ahead of them bursts into flames—

☘

—it hurts.

They're drenched in warm liquid that glistens in the firelight. The heavy weight of a body is draped across them, still as death while the world around them is quiet chaos. Long hair brushes against their skin and they look up, finally seeing the cause of all this.

A giant snake with the head of a woman and six arms each wielding a blade soaked in crimson.

It's not safe.

They need to run.

They try, but their legs won't move. They can't feel their legs, no matter how much they will them to. They're afraid. So afraid. Are they dying? They must be. It feels like they are. They're dying, and alone.

They don't want to be alone.

They don't want to die.

—help

Help me—

The snake-woman's blades are met by flashes of light that they feel resonate in their blood.

Dad.

Daddy's here.

There's a terrifying scream that fills the air, and they're jostled as the Crownsguard close ranks around them. They can still peek between their silhouettes, seeing their father in the distance, enraged and steadfast as he fights the daemon back. It fights back in turn, but is no match for the power of the kings — the power of their father.

They want to cheer him on. To be able to watch in more than small snippets stolen from between their guards' forms.

But there is darkness creeping through them, squeezing and constricting and they never knew you could feel darkness. Never knew it could hurt so much... It hurts. It hurts so much. They want to call out for their daddy but they can't find their voice through all of the pain and the dark.

They still can't feel their legs. They can't feel much of anything anymore.

But their father is suddenly here, leaning over them, pulling them close in an embrace they can't feel. Not with the darkness pulling at them. It pulls and pulls, dragging them away from their father's care.

They're scared. They don't want to go. They want to stay with their father.

Dad—

☘

—they wake to soft fur and a sweet voice gently nuzzling them until they sit upright. They don't know what this is, but it's nice, and they want to play.

someone doesn't want you to wake up.

They feel pretty awake right now. Aren't they awake?

It doesn't matter.

They're in a new, exciting world and have a friend to join in their adventures. They play together with their friend, fighting off foes like the heroes in their story books (like their dad) until they reach the end of their journey.

They don't want to say goodbye to their friend, but the Regalia is there and the monsters are all gone and they want to see their father again. They say their goodbyes, crawl into their safe place, and soak in the familiar, comforting smells.

They close their eyes, curling up on the plush fabric, and wait for their father to find them.

☘

—they wake up again, though this time they're truly awake. Their father is sitting vigil at their bedside, clasping their hand with weary fingers.

Their father smiles, eyes crinkling, face full of relief. His mask of royalty gone, replaced with something soft and aching that they've never seen on him before.

'Noct… I won't let anyone hurt you.'

Another promise, but unlike all the countless others made only to be broken, this is one they know their father will keep. He holds them as if he couldn't bear to ever let go, even for a second. Like they are the most precious thing in the world to him. Like they matter above all else.

They still can't feel their legs. They are tired, and sore, and there is a sickness that lingers, deep and discomfiting.

But they aren't alone. They're safe.

Dad's here.

And he doesn't seem to ever want to leave them again. ]

☘☘☘

[ When they wake yet again it's with a sharp intake of breath, sudden and shaky, warm arms holding them, and the sensation of movement. As they— Era tries to fully extricate herself from memories and feelings not all her own, groggy and confused, she mumbles a quiet: ]

...Dad?

[ Her accent and inflection are a closer match to Noct's than her own. Once the sound reaches her horns it startles her, shaking off much of the remaining mental fog. ]

Noct?

[He almost misses her voice, so quiet and unlike her that it could have been in his own head. The follow-up - his name - clues him into reality, however, and he stops walking for a moment to check on her.]

Hey, you're awake! Are you okay?

[Wait, did she just call him Noct.]

...Sorry.

[ She shifts, uncomfortable; a lingering sense of malaise not her own. It will pass soon, she knows, but that doesn't lessen the feeling of vulnerability being rendered immobile causes her. ]

I'll be okay. I was merely struck by some visions.

Visions... got it. It's okay.

[He doesn't know what exactly she means, but his tone betrays the fact that he genuinely understands. He'd collapsed a few times back home under the same condition, after all.]

Want me to put you down, or keep moving? I was gonna take you to Ardyn's place...

[Now that she's conscious she can direct him to wherever she'd like, though.]

If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate seeing Ardyn.

[ He is well acquainted with the Echo by now, and if she's honest with herself she would like to see him after yet another 'episode'. He understands her growing concern more than anyone else. ]

I can't feel my legs right now.

Edited 2020-01-23 07:32 (UTC)

What? You didn't even fall that far!

[That is way to concerning a thing to say in that calm a tone! He starts walking again, picking up the pace while trying not to jostle her too much, in case he missed some horrible injury that could now be made worse by carting her around like this.]

That's... really bad. Ardyn's a healer, I bet he can fix it...!

[ Belatedly, Era realizes why that was perhaps not the best thing to say just then. ]

It's not a physical injury — it will go away soon enough. Likely just a few minutes more, as I shake off the remnants of your childhood.

[ Which is also probably not the best thing to say, but she's a bit. Preoccupied. With disentangling Noct's memories from her own. ]

[....

Yeah, that one's gonna net her a long, uncomfortable silence and a few faltered half-steps. And then, in an equally unsteady tone-]

My childhood?

[C... can you clarify, please...]

[ Ah. ]

Um.

[ It was awkward enough explaining this the first two times, and with those she wasn't being carried.

Her tail, at least, begins to move once more, twitching with the unpleasant mix of guilt and discomfort that bubbles in her chest. ]

The Echo is an ability that breaks down the barriers of souls. The most common manifestation of it is the ability to see some memories of another.

[ She makes a small gesture toward her legs with a hand. With effort, she manages to shift a thigh enough that it's barely apparent yet still detectable. ]

Or experience them, in my case.

[Oh.

Oh, gods.

Carefully he averts his gaze, feeling just as awkward as she does, with the truth of it out in the open. Not just a vision. A vision of him, of some part of his past. He tries to keep a tight restraint on his expression, concealing his sudden distress as best he can under the circumstances.]

...What... what did you see...?

[He knows, of course, at least in part. "I can't feel my legs," she'd said. That's a pretty solid clue about what fragment of his life that she'd witnessed. But knowing how much is suddenly very important to him.]

He didn't make it to the festival like he promised. He always broke his promises, so you weren't surprised. He didn't care enough to keep them.

You were falling asleep in the Regalia.

There was an explosion. Fire.

A giant serpent loomed with the torso of a woman bearing six arms with six blades.

Your father fought it, then rushed to you. He held you as the darkness crept in. Everything hurt... So badly, it hurt. But you couldn't feel your legs, then you felt nothing else.

[ She cannot detach herself from the retelling just yet, having lived through it just a short while ago. Her voice is thready with emotion, catching on certain moments. ]

Then there was Carbuncle, and a fanciful dream. A journey to your safe place and then the waking world, where your father waited.

He made a promise to you then, and you knew this would be the rare one that he kept. You felt safe, and cared for, and like everything would be okay because Dad was there with you...

...And that was all.

[ Her temporary immobility is a blessing in disguise, rendering it too much effort to force a hug on the boy. ]

[He's quiet as she speaks, his only reactions a steadily increased tension in his jawline, and the brief tightening of his hold on her before he catches himself. Even as she finishes, the silence lingers, and he can't properly respond right away. He opens his mouth, falters. Tries - and fails - again.

Finally, he manages to mumble,]

Sorry... for giving you lousy memories like that.

[Even he doesn't want them, most days. Can't imagine anyone else would enjoy it. But that...

...that was... a lot.]

Don't be sorry, Noct.

[ She places a hand to his chest in what she hopes suits as a comforting gesture. ]

They were not all lousy. An adventure with your Carbuncle... Knowing what it feels like to be a child, and to have a father.

They were a far more pleasant selection than the memories of your forefathers.

[The nickname again. His brows furrow, but he doesn't comment on it. His father called him that back then, didn't he? And she'd said "Dad", too. To not only witness it but live it more directly... what a strange experience it must be. He doesn't envy her for it, or for the unpleasant sensation of the whole... leg... thing. He'd take Titan's migraines over this any day.

The comforting hand helps a little, but it would be more effective if it wasn't immediately followed by his slight wince at her words.]

Them too? Gods... not even gonna ask about that.

[Even if he thought she might tell him - something he highly doubts - he has no desire to witness that miserable history. What they've shared with him has been plenty already.]

They helped me to better understand, which I think was why the Echo showed me what it did. The two of them are awful at communicating.

[ Era shifts again, not enough to dislodge herself but enough to test her legs. She moves her thighs, but can't quite feel her feet yet. ]

There is a reason I was shown those memories of yours, even if I don't know what it is. I wish I could control these visions rather than be a victim to them.

[ A sigh. ]

...Your Carbuncle is rather cute, by the way. I am still more partial to my own, but it is a close second.

Mm.

[He shifts his hold on her to let her move as she likes, continuing forward down the road as long as she needs to be carried. His tone is vague but agreeable; Carbuncle is indeed very cute, and it's a quiet delight that someone else knows what it looks like, now. It'd been a secret friend for so long, something to keep hidden lest everyone think him crazy. It's hard to focus on something so whimsical, though, in light of everything else.]

Don't know why it'd show you that, either. If it wanted you to know about having a father, there's better examples than that night. [He pauses, hesitant, and then adds in a somewhat guilty tone,] He wasn't... I was mad at him, I was just being a brat. I was too young to get it. He... he was a good dad.

[It's been a long time since then, but he knows he must have said and thought things that would reflect poorly on Regis out of context. He doesn't want to give anyone the impression that his father was anything less than wonderful. It's just that he was also the king.]

I want to help you and yours if I can, however I can. Not just because of what I am, but because I love Ardyn, and you are his family that he loves so much.

Your family is precious to him, and so you are precious to me.

Perhaps the Echo is trying to help me protect you all, in ways I don't yet understand.

[ The hand on his chest moves to his jaw, fingers gentle, and the fabric of her gloves soft as her expression. ]

Do not feel guilty for being a child, Noct. You loved and adored him. He was your father, and your hero. You are not the first child I've known to feel abandoned by theirs, as though their father cared more for others than for you when nothing could be further from the truth.

[ Era pulls her hand away now, reaching into her pocket to retrieve her FLUID. She takes off one glove so she can quickly navigate to one particular photo album. It's one she hasn't been able to bear looking at as of late, but she turns the screen so that Noct can see an image of Lord Edmont de Fortemps alongside herself.

He looks so refined, dignified, and every onze the highborn he is. The Era next to him is in full armour, a sword larger than herself strapped to her back and the Fortemps shield fastened to her arm. She is covered in blood and dirt, a broad smile upon her face. Her hair (so much shorter than now) is in wild disarray.

In almost every way Era is an utter contrast to the man she stands beside, and yet he looks upon her with what she now knows without question is one of fatherly love and pride. ]

Lord Edmont de Fortemps, though I believe he was still Count Edmont at this time. He took me in as his ward upon the request of his bastard son, Haurchefant.

He did all that he could to give Haurchefant a better life, even claiming him as his rightful son, though was limited by the restrictions of his highborn position.

Haurchefant became a knight, eventually coming to command one of Edmont's outposts, which is where I came to know and befriend him.

The two were distant... I don't think they'd corresponded in the years leading up to his request to provide me and my companions sanctuary. It put Edmont's social standing in jeopardy, yet the Count took us in.

I cannot express the difficult position our presence put the Count in, or how difficult it must have been to acquire our wardships. Particularly in a xenophobic nation in the midst of a thousand-year war with dragons, and me looking as I do... But he loved his son with all his heart, and Haurchefant had never asked anything of him before. How could he deny his beloved son this request?

[ There is a damp quality to her voice now, and her bright eyes all the brighter with unshed tears. ]

I don't think Haurchefant ever truly understood how much his father loved him. He would have been shocked, I think, to see the strong, steadfast Count Edmont de Fortemps collapse to the ground in grief over his death.

Haurchefant was my best friend. He was my brother not just in-arms, but in heart as well. The first person to see me as a friend first, not an asset.

He died protecting me, and his father didn't begrudge me for it. Even in all the unbearable agony of losing his child, he never once blamed me.

Edmont lived in a society that would shame him for treating his bastard as a son. A society that prevented him from fully expressing his love for his children, all because of status.

I hated it, and so I changed it.

[He makes a quietly agreeable noise at that, not sure how to respond at first. Lots going on in her world, it seems. Not a surprise really- so many people here have had full and busy lives before arriving, himself included. Part of what makes being here so difficult.]

I don't feel guilty. [...Maybe a little.] I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression.

[From how she describes her patron, though, it sounds like she understands just fine. He studies her photo as she holds it up, recognizing certain familiar signs: the expression on the man's face, strong, firm, yet caring, and she herself, caked in the marks of a warrior fresh from battle, proud of where she stands. He's felt that after tournaments, or when he had his prowess during training witnessed and praised, he's seen a similar look in his own father's eyes. Posed in plenty of photos trying to balance precariously along the line of the truth of his own feelings versus the public expectations of the royal family.]

Sorry... that you lost him. Both of you.

[This, too, he can understand. The ache of a loved one's death is familiar and fresh months later, still an open wound that he remembers even when he looks at his alive-and-well father here. The man is decades too young, has only been told of the son he'll have instead of remembering the one he raised. His love is more free to give, but it's new, inexperienced. Not yet a father beyond the name alone, though... he does try. Noctis will give him that, at least.

He shakes his head, trying to dispel those miserable thoughts. Thinking of darker days is what caused this mess in the first place.]

...How did you change it?

[ His condolences strike a chord in her, giving rise to the grief she still feels no matter how much she accepts that Haurchefant is gone. Era struggles to shove it back down, deep enough in her heart that she can continue to fulfill his dying wish.

A smile better suits a hero.

A breath of a laugh escapes her, frail and wet. She puts on a small facsimile of a smile. ]

The Holy See of Ishgard was a theocracy built on the foundation of a thousand years of lies. The Archbishop knew the truth, yet wished for things to remain as they were and would kill to keep the status quo.

He turned himself into a Primal, commanding his Tempered Knights of the Round. I killed them all.

His death was the only one I've ever taken pleasure in. The Archbishop was the reason I could do naught but hold my brother's hand in mine as he died.

[ Era takes a breath, shifting her legs. She can feel them entirely now, though they are not yet fully responsive. ]

The theocracy ended with Thordan, and government was shifted to a bicameral republic. His bastard son, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, was voted in as Lord Speaker of the House of Lords.

There are still those who resent the changes, but Aymeric leads his people well. He is one of my best friends, so I have faith that he will help rebuild Ishgard into something greater.

My father is still highborn and raised, so he will never express his emotions as he might otherwise... But future generations will now have the chance. Should Artoirel and Emmanellain gift him grandchildren, they will have a grandsire who freely dotes upon them.

[And once again it's... a lot. Her words are a reminder, a strange and alien echo (hah, how fitting) of what he's learned to be true of his own home. Built on a foundation of lies... even if the intentions had been for good, even if it was for a prophecy meant to save the world, it was still their unpleasant reality, and many have suffered for it. Their family and friends here included.

He thinks of what Somnus said, about fighting Ardyn in Insomnia years before his own birth. The awakened king in the armored form of the Old Wall, huge and imposing, fighting against a wronged man attempting to defy that dynasty... he wonders if the men Era fought had been filled with that same belief that they were doing what had to be done. Back home things were black and white for so long that it's strange to be straddling the line between as often as he is these days.

Whatever their situation in Eos might be, however-]

I'm glad you won. A crown built on lies- maybe they're just meant to fall one way or another, eventually.

[His father didn't deserve to die, and whatever government Niflheim has created in his stead can't possibly be better. But now that things are broken, his task is to fix it. And in the process he can make it better, in much the same way this friend of hers is trying to do.]

I'm glad as well. Countless lives both Ishgardian and Dravanian were lost in their thousand year war. Countless lives snuffed out over lies and betrayal disguised as truth and justice.

[ She tries no to dwell on how different things could have been, instead focusing on how different things will be. ]

Kingdoms are only ever as strong as their foundations. Now they can rebuild anew, alongside the dragons they once hated.

[ Era still knows so little about Insomnia and its foundations, beyond the fact that it was built on lies as well. ]

...Perhaps your kingdom can rebuild its foundation as well, from something far sturdier.

Yeah... that's what I want, if I can get us there.

[He can't help feeling somewhat doubtful how well he'll manage at it, with how difficult it seems things are going to become alongside his own qualifications. If his father struggled so hard for so long, if better kings before him couldn't accomplish such lofty goals, how the hell is he meant to do it? Hopefully sheer stubbornness and the blessings of the Astrals will tip the scales in his favour, but who really knows.

No one's ever stopped him from wanting something, though. Or trying his damndest to get it done.]

Our war's been going for hundreds of years, on and off, and the way they ended it left nothing but holes. Taking over Insomnia, stealing the Crystal, it's still not enough- they want to make sure no king's ever sitting the throne again. But screw that. I'm taking it back, and then I'll do it my way. Be my own kind of king. I want Lucis to be better than it was before, for everyone.

[ Era listens, more focused on the conversation than she is the situation at hand, though she does curl her tail upward and drape it loosely over one of Noct's arms. She doesn't mind leaving it dangle for short periods, but for longer stretches it makes her feel a bit vulnerable. ]

I wish I could help. I've a great deal of experience with destroying imperial legions and castrums, and freeing nations from their control. [ She lets out a muted sigh, then add more softly: ] ...And perhaps this Crystal would speak to me.

[ A shake of her head, and another sigh. There's no use thinking of such things now, while they loom as an impossibility.

(She ignores the part of her that points out there is apparently no such thing as impossible when it comes to the Warrior of Light). ]

I believe in you, Noctis Lucis Caelum.

If it did, I'd be amazed. It's never said anything to me, no matter how many times I poked at it.

[He offers up a wry half-smile, trying not to squirm at the tickle of her tail around his arm. (Lucky he didn't drop her when he felt it there.) He didn't spend a lot of time in the Crystal's chambers, but he'd visited a few times, out of some misplaced duty or curiosity about where his powers come from. He'd received no message or vision or even so much as a hint of what his eventual destiny was to be, so there was little point in trying often.]

...Thanks, though. We'll get ourselves there eventually, somehow.

[Even if she can't do anything, to know there are so many people willing to help and support them isn't without meaning.]

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