summonerd | i just wanna know: who broke it?

i just wanna know: who broke it?

[Sheena'd thought she was all done with dimensional travel, now that the two worlds were united. But here she is, having fallen asleep in one world and woken up in a Tethe'alla that's just different enough from the one she knows to be constantly jarring. Her connections to Aselia's summon spirits dangle loose, snapped by distance - not even Origin's power could follow her here, it seems. That's more than a little unsettling.

It takes her some time, alone in a bizarro version of Meltokio as she is, but eventually she stumbles on a lead - an old scientific journal, a mention of the power of something called an Aegis being able to transcend space and time, at least in theory. And a little asking around tells her that Tethe'alla has its own Aegis, though no one's seen it for years. Well. Worth a shot, right?

Somehow she manages to talk her way into the Tethe'allan castle where the Aegis's core crystal awaits being woken up, with a series of smiles and her very best politicking - yes, of course she's got nothing but loyalty for Tethe'alla, of course she's skilled at this, of course it'd be a great honor.

(Zelos would be proud, she thinks, wryly.)

They're dubious, but her persistence wears them down, or maybe they're just desperate enough for a return of the Aegis's power to let her try, and the orange core crystal is offered out to her.

She takes a deep breath, and reaches out to touch it.]

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Static, ringing, buzzing.

Pounding ether in his veins, the numbing loss of sensation on his skin. Blinding white and tension pulling at his muscles. Static, ringing, buzzing. A voice barely penetrating the stillness like sound underwater until it reaches his subconscious--he clings to it, trying to listen for the tell-tale tone of 'let's begin' or 'that would be all' just so that he can be ready. Who knows what could happen. Who knows what they'll want.

Static, ringing, buzzing.

Through the cacophony he thinks he hears something sounding like his name.

Zelos, Ze-los. Two syllables, mumbled low, somewhere in this room. That's not quite right. He can't see anything but the stillness of these white walls as they close in on him slowly, the anticipation for pain holding him down in place without moving a single muscle, but the sound pierces through until it forces him to blink. His eyes are so dry. A part of his rational mind that lies scattered like dust particles settles against his temples, provides a fuzzy image of the colour blue. Blue, blue like the sky, like freedom. Right, he... he isn't alone, is he? He thinks he wasn't alone, at least some time ago.

A huff of air through his lips is his response to the sound. The frustration that builds when that's all he can do is unbearable, like a knife pointed in towards Zelos' own core. It's not enough, it's not enough. It will never be enough. He will never be enough. Slowly, Zelos tries again, manages a small groan. It gets caught in his throat though, some pathetic sound that fails to coalesce into actual words.

He is not enough.

Zelos doesn't respond. Mithos blinks a few times, surprised, slowly worried. Again, Zelos' ether doesn't feel sick, so...

Cautiously, slowly, so as not to startle the other Aegis, Mithos moves, crawls the few inches across the floor he needs to to peer at Zelos' face. Zelos' eyes are wide open in an unseeing stupor not disimilar to Kratos on his very very worst nights. The nights where Mithos cannot coax him to move at all, the nights where going out to star gaze and remember their freedom isn't an option because Kratos doesn't trust him enough to move.

Mithos doesn't know what's causing Zelos to react like this, doesn't know what paths Zelos' mind is leading him down. But he's aware he has no idea what Tethe'alla put him through, either, for the hundred years they held him captive. Was it kinder than the cannons, constantly online, constantly active, with no rest in between? Maybe it wasn't.

Not much he can do to help, though, Mithos thinks. Not when he barely knows Zelos at all.

But there is... one thing. One thing he does for Kratos, on those worst nights. One thing that certainly couldn't hurt.

Mithos is anxious, still a little scared, still a lot furious. Underneath all that, he is also a little embarrassed. He folds his legs under him, sitting a respectable distance from Zelos. He puts his hands on his knees and straightens his back. Wets his lips. Clears his throat. Hesitates.

It can't hurt, though. Maybe it'll help.

His face is warm with embarrasment, but Mithos closes his eyes, pretends he is elsewhere, and he sings.

"Shul harum noy'him,
Ar jaruk noy'sing..."

It's quiet, and his voice soft, a little halting due to his embarrasment. It's... the words are meaningless, as far as he is aware. As good as gibberish. But it was something Father would sing, sometimes. It's soothing, even when most of Mithos' memories of his father are tainted with disdain. This song... well, it's still his favorite, despite everything.

Static, ringing, buzzing.

Static, ringing, buzzing.

Static, ringing...

Humming.

It's like ripples in water before it is like actual sound, quiet and shy notes and words carried along the edges of Zelos' subconscious as he stares off into the void. Immobile, it takes him a few minutes. This is... a song, held by a young, rippling voice. Another flash of blue across his mind brings forth some clarity, but--what does a colour even help with? What's the significance of blue against white...?

Why would anyone sing before the cannon--?

Why those colours? Who's singing, who? Why? It takes Zelos a few tries before he can cling onto any of the aimless words, and when he does, he finds himself slowly frowning. They feel like water through his fingers, formless and quiet. Muffled by static. Sluggish. Why? He focuses on the words, trying to pick anything he can recognize among them, but to no avail. These aren't words he's heard before, and they keep ebbing in the shores of his subconscious like cold water, white noise against the ringing and buzzing of his own stress. Harmonious, melodic, but utterly nonsensical. Why? Why would anyone sing? Why sing? Why sing?

Zelos exhales harshly. His eyes don't close, but at least they aren't so wide anymore. The song carries with it a blue glow against his eyelids, held there before the blinding white of the room's walls.

If anyone was wondering how Kratos was doing, the answer is not great.

He's sluggish and his mind is static. It's hard to hear anything over the maddeningly constant thump thump thump of a heart he never asked for, pounding incessently in his eardrums, filling them up and drowning out everything else. Horror grips at his chest and plays a cacophony of fear in the echo chamber of an empty resonance.

He feels

so small

A distant part of him recognizes that he is safe,
that anyone who wants to experiment on him is long dead,
that the worst that could happen to him at this current moment is that he's killed.

It is a very distant part, though. It cannot scream loud enough for conscious thought to grab onto.

Footsteps.

He only hears them because he trained himself for it, to make sure he'd always know when they were coming, so he could be prepared to resist. Which is why quite suddenly after being completely immobile for the hours they have spent here, Kratos shoots upright and scrambles across the floor so he might press his back to the far wall of the cell away from the door. He breathes, heavily, terrified, and he trembles, watching, waiting, steeling himself. If they want him to move, they will have to make him.

He does not recognize Anna's voice. He does not recognize Lloyd. He does not recognize anything.

Edited 2019-10-04 05:19 (UTC)

The moment Malos grabs Lloyd's wrist and pulls him forward, Lloyd tries to protest against it, digging his boots into the ground as he resists against the bigger blade. "Malos, wait, the others -" Lloyd gets out, cutting himself off as he stumbles when Malos lets go of him in his rush. The boy turns, tries to get back to the Aegises, but jumps back when a wall slams down in front of him, nearly slicing him in half as it comes down. It takes only a second of realization before he feels fear leak directly into his heart, which beats so heavily, so hard, that Lloyd is sure the others can hear it.

"No!" He yells, immediately searching for a lock, or some sort of mechanism he can break, some way to pull up the wall. Zelos and Mithos are out there, separated from the rest of the party, separated from him, and they're the most vulnerable out of the rest of them, the most powerful but also the most in threat, they need to get to them -

The others. The others need to be freed, first. Before anything, they need to free the others, and Malos can't do it on his own. Lloyd swallows down anxiety fear anxiety fear not knowing if the way it grows is his or Mithos' and don't think about it or you will start to freak out Lloyd take a deep breath count to ten like Kratos said -

Kratos. Okay. He can start with him.

Taking a deep breath to stop the way he's beginning to hyperventilate - (he can't see Zelos and Mithos, can't know they're okay, and he can't help but think about the gauntlet, about being separated and knowing that they one by one fell to their deaths stop stop stop THINKING) - Lloyd turns to face the others, face the cells. He does his best to look them over from his position, and. Okay, they all look a bit dazed, but Kratos - Lloyd can't tell if he's genuinely hurt or what, and that's worrying, but he can't do anything from outside the cells. So he reaches up to his hair, pulls a bobby pin out from the side of it, and gets to work.

"Y-you're gonna be alright, Kratos," Lloyd says, trying to hide the tremble in his voice as the terror rears it's ugly head louder and louder, and he's certain something is happening to Mithos, but he can't - not in front of Kratos, Kratos can't realize something is wrong with Mithos, not like this, so he stays strong. "I'm gonna get you out, don't worry."

The lock is deceptively tricky, with hidden slots and key recognitions, but Lloyd is sure that under normal circumstances, he'd be able to pop it open within a minute. However, with the way his hands tremble, his movements become less precise, more erratic. The bobby pin snaps.

"Fuck," he mutters, staring at the lock. He could try again, pull another bobby pin and try to break the lock open in what is probably the less messy way of handling things, but he doubts he'd be able to get any sort of progress done with how useless his mind is becoming as time passes. And for all the experience he has at busting out of jail, there is little that could be done from outside the cell without keys, and Kratos is obviously unresponsive, so.

He makes up his mind.

The ether in the area is weird, completely choked and limited from how it felt outside, and Lloyd doesn't notice it until he closes his eyes, gathering as much of it as he can around him. He can feel it enter his body through the crystal on his left hand, feels the way it travels into his bloodstream in such a heavy current it burns at his insides, powerful and foreign. He gasps in pain, breaths coming out sharp as he doubles over, the ether finding its way to his shoulder blades and staying there, furiously swirling, gathering shape and form, a scorching mess that sets his nerves aflame. Biting his tongue, he holds in a yell as his wings come alive, flickering into view before taking up the expanse of the room, cyan lighting up the cold of the cells.

With his enhanced strength, Lloyd straightens himself back out, wipes a gloved hand over his clammy forehead, and finally turns back to face the lock he had tried to pick. Brute force it is, then. He makes sure Kratos is out of the way - (he's in the far corner of the cell, well away from the door) - takes another deep breath, and then angles the side of his body towards the cell door, on the furthest side from the hinges. With a moment to gather his wits about him, Lloyd throws his shoulder into the door, ramming his full strength into it.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door goes flying with a squeal as the hinges break. It smacks hard against the inner center wall of the cell, falling flat to the floor as soon as it does. Pausing for a moment to steady himself, Lloyd hesitates to leave Kratos as he is, but -

"Please do not touch me without my consent. Triggers bad memories, sometimes, if I am not expecting it."

- he should trust him to find a way back to shore by himself, if only for right now. Setting his jaw, he walks over to Sheena's cell, sends her as steady a smile as he can force with how his emotions are a jumbled mess of horror and dread, eating at the cracks in his shaky demeanor, threatening to distract him the moment he thinks of them and he needs to stop right now. "Careful, Sheena. It'll go flying."

Giving her a second to position herself away from the door, he repeats what he did to Kratos' cell, knocking it off its hinges in no time, and then fixes himself in front of Anna's cell door to do the same. All three cell doors open, all three hostages freed, Lloyd properly looks them over best he can, concern etched into every part of his expression. With the immediate distraction out of the way, his heart begins to pound irritatingly fast again, a desperate "we need to find Zelos and Mithos we need to save them we need to help them" drumming to the same tune. He's itching to leave this cellblock. "Anything we need to worry about here and now?"

Edited 2019-10-05 05:10 (UTC)

Sheena had given up on her plan of waiting on her feet for someone to come in pretty quickly - at the least, the door was far enough away that she'd have time to react, and it doesn't seem like Sylvarant has much interest in its prisoners at the moment - instead settling back down towards the front of the cell. Kratos is nonresponsive, despite either of their best efforts; she leaves Anna to it, for the most part, tunes out of what she's saying because it feels uncomfortably private to be listening in even if Anna's just trying to vent her anxiety. She jolts to her feet the second she hears noise outside, the second Anna calls Malos's name hesitantly, pressed up close to the bars to get a better view.

The four other members of their party approach, and Sheena's face lights up, opening her mouth to call out, and--

A door comes down, splitting Malos and Lloyd off from the Aegises. Okay. That's bad, but - there are five of them here, now, and the others are just on the other side of the door. There's no way one door can keep them separated for long, Sheena reassures herself to push down the fear and restless frustration that's gathering in her heart. Instead, she pulls that grin back onto her face, calls out "I knew you guys had it handled" to Lloyd before shutting up so he can focus on picking the lock. She sucks in a sympathetic breath when Lloyd's wings come out, but, alright, that makes sense. They don't have the time for lockpicking.

She gives him a quick nod as she gets out of the way, letting him do his thing. They'll definitely have everyone in this base in here after that level of noise, so they'll need to be fast, but that's fine. It's going to be fine. "Thanks," she tells him, grateful, as she makes her way out of the cell to join him and Malos. "You guys probably know more than we do, though. We've been--"

That's as far as she gets before the emotional bleed crashes down on her, and it'd been heavy before but it's crushing now with something every word she has is too weak for. Sheena gasps, doubles over as she fights it unsuccessfully for even a shred of space to breathe.

Kratos snarls as Lloyd approaches the cell door, still not quite recognizing the boy as his son, but then--

With a slam and the ringing of crashing metal as Lloyd breaks the cell door off its hinges, everything slots into place.

It's still fuzzy, terror gripping him too tight, muscles not wanting to move, but Kratos realizes-- this is a rescue mission. He watches as Lloyd turns and sets about freeing Sheena, then Anna. Breathes. Breathes. Breathe, Kratos, just breathe. He's fine, it's fine. They're going to get out of here. That's all he wants, isn't it? Freedom?

Something nags at his brain, though, as he counts the people in this room, recognizing them vaguely, but more importantly knowing some are missing. Who's missing? Who's--?

Sheena collapses, suggesting something on her blade's end. On Zelos' end. Oh, Architect, where's Zelos? Where's Mithos?

"Shit, fuck," Malos says, sharp and somewhat despairing. "Sorry, I shouldn't've-- Shit." It's like water in Kratos' ears, barely understood. Kratos focuses on stepping out of his cell in the meantime, as Malos keeps talking. "We need to get out of here before anything else. Ether's all fucked in here. Me and Kratos are both gonna be useless. I- could probably carry Sheena though, if I gotta. Lloyd? Anna? Any ideas?" After a second, he sends a hesitant, cautious look at Kratos. "Kratos? What about you?"

Kratos shakes his head. He has no ideas, and his voice isn't somewhere he could voice them even if he had them. He wants the ether to go back to normal, though. And maybe once they're out of this ether suppression field, he can sense Mithos' ether signature and lead the way to saving the Aegis.

That's all that matters. Getting out. Saving Mithos.

(Zelos, too. It's just hard, through the haze of panic and bad memories and lack of ether for Kratos to think about anything that isn't Mithos or getting out of here for longer than a few seconds.)

"I don't have any ideas, either," Anna says. "Lloyd..." She begins, almost like she's going to ask a question, but doesn't commit to it. "Well? What can you do?"

Edited 2019-10-07 00:31 (UTC)

Lloyd staggers, almost tripping over himself to make sure Sheena is alright, just as Mithos' own fear slams into him, leaving him heaving a breath and struggling to keep steady. The Aegises. Something is happening to them, and he can't see them, can't know what, but it's not just one of them. Its both of them.

He feels lightheaded, almost, with the way the emotional bleed screams a song of terror, but nows no time to freak out. Lloyd considers shutting off his emotions, using that space instead for rational thinking, but thinks against it at the last minute - the emotional bleed is a good way for Mithos to be able to tell that he's still being driven by Lloyd, and whether or not he particularly cares for Lloyd doesn't matter as long as he realizes that for all intents and purposes, he's still free. Sylvarant hasn't taken his driver, so there's still hope. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Lloyd tries his best to send off what he hopes is reassurance, something like a "it's not over yet, we'll save you," and then returns himself to the current scene.

Anna and Malos both look at him, asking for some sort of answer, and, well, he doesn't have any that he can think of. The door keeping them in is less a door and more of an automatic wall, with no proper locking mechanism or anything to use on their side of things - just layers of smooth concrete, lined with a thick coating of poly-carbonate, if Lloyd had to guess. They can't risk being caught in here with a bunch of guards, Lloyd rationalizes, glancing at the half-aware forms of more than half the party, and he supposes he might be able to slam into it like he did the cell doors, but at the rate that he'd be able to break through...

Biting his lip, setting his shoulders, and continuing to send more hope through the emotional bleed, Lloyd approaches the trap door. It came down from above, right? So there has to be a sliding mechanism in place within the ceiling, something Sylvarant assumed can't be tampered with through the sheer weight of the door.

But then, this Sylvarant has never dealt with super-powered angels before, have they?

Lloyd drops into a kneel in front of the door, sliding his fingers as close to the edge of the door as he can, and as soon as he's able to find a grip, he begins lifting it up. It's heavy - heavier than anything he's tried to lift before, probably well over three hundred pounds, and even with the enhanced angel strength, he finds himself straining, with a grunt, to keep it up. But eventually, he's able to raise himself up with the weight and hold it up, creating enough space for everyone to at least bend and walk through.

"C'mon," he croaks out a little, focused as he is on holding the door up, on keeping his trembling arms from giving. Gods, this is so heavy. "Lets go, I don't know how long I can hold this for."

Edited 2019-10-07 21:59 (UTC)

Somewhere, dimly, Sheena catches her name being said. She's trying her best to pay attention to the conversation, really she is, but it's so hard to piece together words through such a thick haze of static. But that's important, right? She needs to be here for this.

"I-- I don't," she chokes out. Reaches out to the nearest bar to try and pull herself up, without any luck. They don't have time for this. Somewhere, past the rush and haze of the emotional bleed, Sheena's frustration builds.

And then, somehow, the static eases up, just a little. Not enough, but - enough for her to find the space to take a breath. Process a little more of what she'd heard. "Not sure I can walk. Sorry," she manages, with a self-deprecating smile more or less in Malos's direction. At least she's still on her feet, if crouching down and hunched over counts. What the hell are they doing to Zelos, that the emotional bleed makes the aftermath of their last shared dream feel pleasant by comparison? How bad is it for him right now? "We need to..." Maybe making plans is a little more than she can handle right now.

First of all: Lloyd sprouting wings? Holy shit.

And then, as if watching him break the cell doors off of their fucking hinges wasn't impressive enough, Lloyd goes and lifts the goddamn wall like it's nothing. Well. Okay, he seems to be struggling, but still, holy shit holy shit holy shit. Anna's somewhat terrified, mostly awed, a lot proud.

Kratos ducks through, first thing. Anna can't blame him.

"Hey, no problem," Malos tells Sheena, as he bends down to scoop her up. "I don't mind." And he ferrys Sheena past Lloyd.

"Thanks," Anna tells Lloyd, as she slips past him. "That's--" She can't think of what to say. "Incredible," she settles on. She's kind of worried about him. Now probably isn't the time. "Good job," she says, instead, and because she doesn't know what to say she slides forward to check on Kratos, real fast.

"Kratos?" she asks. He's taken a few steps down the hall, eyes scanning, rigid and clearly on edge, but-- more responsive than earlier, at least. Maybe she shouldn't press him, but. "How you doing?"

He hesitates long enough she isn't sure he'll answer, but then: "Nine," he gets out, kind of croaky.

Not quite a panic attack. Very close to one. Alright. "Gotcha," Anna says, in acknowledgement. "You gonna be... okay? While we get out of here?"

"Have to," Kratos answers. "Mithos."

Anna nods. Swallows. "Kvar's dead, remember," she says, quietly. "You're alright. He's not gonna--"

"I know."

"Just wanted to remind you. That things are okay. That no one's going to hurt you," Anna says, persistent, if uncertain. "Thought maybe it'd help."

"Thanks." It's terse, so it's hard to tell if he means it, but she has to forgive him for his one-tone, one-syllable answers, right now. The fact she's getting words out of him at all is a miracle. Finally he turns, and he stops, eyes locking on a path down the left. He must've picked out Mithos' signal. "This way," he says, and starts walking.

Holding the door open for just long enough that everyone is able to safely make it through is tough, but as soon as Anna gets through safely, Lloyd drops back to a kneel and let’s go of it completely. As expected, there’s a loud bang as the door hits ground again, but there’s little Lloyd could have done to avoid that. Anna left before he could thank her for her compliment, but that’s fine, actually. Between the rough breaths he lets out once he drops the door, the way he doubles over to take a second-long break before he continues on, and the way the emotion bleed still rings strong with Mithos’ anxiety and fear and Lloyd’s own anger and determination, he doesn’t have much room for words.

“Hold on,” Lloyd says, as Kratos begins walking. “Anna and Sheena’s weapons should be close. They need to be armed, too.” And experience with these kinds of jails tells Lloyd that if the cell block was right here, a guard post should be close by, too. He walks straight forward, keeping alert for any stray guard, and takes a right in a small alcove. Though the room looks like it should have a guard in it, it’s empty. Lloyd wonders, for a minute, if the guards are preoccupied with whatever is happening to the Aegises, takes the moment to send off more reassurances to Mithos, and then picks up the pace. There’s a lone desk in the room, and shoving open a drawer with a lock that can’t put up against his enhanced strength, he finds Sheena’s knife and what has to be Anna’s dagger.

Weapons found, he returns to the party and hands Anna her dagger back. Sheena can’t walk yet, but he hands her her knife back, too, and then turns back to Kratos.

“Lead the way.”

The hallways are far from empty. Kratos leads the party through twists and turns, sterilized hallway leading into sterilized hallway, and along the way they encounter various grunts and guards wearing the Sylvaranti military uniform. With Malos and Sheena out for the count for the moment, Lloyd, Kratos, and Anna are left with the responsibility of taking out any enemies, and they do so efficiently and quickly. The attacks may be a little brutal, a little merciless, but Lloyd certainly can’t blame Anna and Kratos for being vicious when he’s being much the same.

Before long, Kratos gets them to a room with several guards and people in labcoats all around. They stand as the group enters in, half-battered but fully determined, and it takes less than a few seconds before shit hits the fan and goes to hell. Lloyd takes notice of the large steel double doors in the back of the room, a computer and keypad attached to the wall next to it, and guesses that must be where the Aegises are being held. It’s time to get them out of there.

And with that thought, he spins into attack, meeting a guard’s blade with his own.

Kratos thinks about Mithos and nothing else, latches onto the signal and grabs it tightly, letting it fill him up and drown out everything else. Thankfully, the push and pull of battle is easy to not think about. His sword is solid and real in his hands. Light burns at his fingertips. The human guards fall one by one.

Malos deposits Sheena as gently as he can and-- once everyone has their own personal shield established-- says: "Alright, let's start moving towards the door. Getting Mithos and Zelos out is the best thing we can do right now." His ether levels have regulated by now, so he's alright, but still, cutting a path to the door is best choice, right. "Dunno how we'll get in, but--"

"I got it," Anna interjects, smile bright and sharp. Knife twirling in her hand, she lunges at the nearest asshole in a labcoat and slams them against the wall, shoves her knife under their chin. "You mind telling me how to get to the Aegises, you bastard?"

Though visibly shaken, the scientist doesn't seem particularly scared. "It won't matter what you do. Reinforcements are coming."

"Not fast enough to save your life," Anna counters, her smile not dropping an inch. "And I'm not above putting this knife somewhere uncomfortable until I get the answer I want--"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

And then there's a sound like a ringing bell, then something happens to the ether in the room.

Anna doesn't feel it but she does feel the sudden pain in her chest, sharp and burning, whips her head around to Malos just in time to watch him stagger, all of his shields flickering and then vanishing from existence. He puts a hand on the nearby wall to steady himself.

(Out of Anna's immediate range of vision, Kratos drops to his knees and quite suddenly forgets how to breathe. His mind sings tight and loud with terror terror terror terror terror terror terror.)

Anna slits the throat of the person she's holding-- she can ask someone else-- and then turns to find the source--

A blade. The only blade in the room that isn't someone Anna knows. Her green hair is tied back, and she raises her staff to the sky.

Edited 2019-10-12 04:30 (UTC)

The moment the ether in the room is pulled from the air, Lloyd can feel himself choke on its sudden absence, blood rushing from an abundance of it to forcing itself to slow, the immediate drop from his angel abilities harsh and rough on his body. He drops to his knees, heaving a breath, as the already existing pain surrounding his shoulderblades flares up worse, a sensation not unlike a wound ripping back open causing him to bite back a whimper. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Lloyd forces himself to stand, legs trembling with the way his body attempts to use ether that is no longer there, wings drooping and flickering around him, barely metaphysical anymore. He can't understand why he feels like he can't breathe, but the most he can process in-between bouts of searing pain and rapid-fire anxiety is the fact that one blade is causing all of this, one blade that looks exactly like -

"Tabatha?" Lloyd rasps out, grabbing at his chest. What have they done to her in this universe?

He doesn't get an answer, only catches a sudden rush of footsteps from his right, turning in time to be able to throw himself out of the way. Lloyd grabs at his swords, weakly brings them up to defend himself against another attack, but a different guard gets involved, and he finds himself panicking to keep up, breaths coming out uneven and choppy. He can barely keep himself standing against the strain, but he tries, forcing his side of the emotion bleed as calm as he can be, all things considered. He doesn't need to freak Mithos out, not like this.

No ether.

No ether no ether no ether no ether not again not again not again not again.

There's a coldness, left behind in its absence. A sharp, chilly horror that clings to his bones. Kratos trembles, unaware of when exactly he dropped to his knees, clinging to his sword even as its form wavers because he does not want to be defenseless, not again, not like this.

He can't stand up. He can't. He can't--

incredible, all the other subjects could stand ether levels this low, i wonder what's different about this one, the blood:ether levels are the same so why

Breathe, Kratos. Breathe. The levels aren't that low. His ears are ringing, and his chest is tight, and it's going to be difficult to fight like this for long but his sword is still in his hands and so

get up

fight back

you are not going to be taken again--

He can't he can't he can't make himself move he can't make himself do anything muscles trembling heart pounding thud thud thud THUD THUD as fingers brush against his arm--

"NO!" Anna screams, throwing herself across the room. Malos is down Lloyd is being attacked and obviously that blade is the problem but someone just tried to grab Kratos and Anna's priorities were set for her.

Lloyd-- though seemingly in pain-- has it handled. Whatever the ether's doing in here can't be good for Malos but he isn't having a goddamn panic attack, right now. She crosses the distance between her and Kratos as fast as she can, arms hooking around Kratos' would-be attacker and--

She makes a decision. Turns and tosses them straight at that Architect-forsaken blade. Both bodies go sprawling.

"I'm here, Kratos," she promises, back to him. "And if anyone even thinks of touching you I will slaughter them."

"Thanks," Sheena tells Malos quickly as she's set down, not as steady on her feet as she'd like but enough for this much, at least. Her first thought is to keep out of this, let the others handle it and maybe figure out a way through the only other doors in the room, but then Tabatha steps forward, and as she raises her staff Lloyd and Malos and Kratos all react very badly, and -- alright, fuck. Letting the others deal with this is no longer an option.

Seeing them go down reminds her of what it is she needs to do to fix this, and she slams the door shut on the emotional bleed, cutting all but the tiniest thread off. There's a tiny bit of guilt in the back of her mind - whatever they'd done to Zelos, he doesn't deserve to be alone for - but she sets that aside, too. He's still with Mithos, and his driver feeling just as awful as he does isn't going to do anyone any favors if they all die for it. She feels better instantly, even with the sick airless vibe to the room, immediately pulling her cards out and imbuing one with power (it takes more out of her than it should, unable to draw from the ether in the room, but it's fine, it's not important) before throwing it in the direction of the pair Anna just sent flying. That should slow them down, even if it probably won't kill. In the meantime, she whips around, glancing over to the door and its locking mechanism for just a second before she lunges at another lab tech, kicking out with one leg to sweep them off their feet. She stands over them, cards splayed in one hand, absolutely furious.

"You saw what happened to your friend," she says. "Unless you wanna follow them, tell me how to open that door."

Maybe it's the cold anger in her tone or the fact that Anna did just absolutely murder someone working in Sheena's favor, but the scientist reaches into a pocket, trembling. She tenses for a moment, ready to attack, but what they pull out is just a card.

"H-here," they say, voice shaking along with the rest of them. "Take them and go, my research isn't worth this--"

Sheena snatches it from their outstretched hand, turns away without a word back to the door. Alright. How does this work? It takes her a second to figure out which end goes where, holding her up just long enough for one of the guards in the room to try and tackle her. She swears, rolling with it and elbowing him hard enough to make him let go, using the extra space to punch with the hand holding her cards as she puts the force of an arte behind it. The guard staggers, slowed by her spell, and she takes that time to shove the keycard into the slot. A light on the keypad flashes green, the doors clicking open as the lock unlatches, and Sheena throws them wide, managing to clock the slowed guard with one.

"Zelos?" she calls, immediately. "Mithos?"

Zelos.

You feel a pinging, from the network.

A request for access, tentative in ways that such a thing really cannot be.

A message comes along with it, transmitted in morse code.

I can help you get out. But it might hurt. I'm sorry.

Edited 2019-10-14 16:46 (UTC)

The tapping sensation against Zelos' forehead contrasts harshly against the melodious notes in the shores of his subconscious, the transmission cutting and distorting the song, leaving it in a cacophony of all the wrong pitches, murky and echoing as this new message, this voice, overpowers everything and booms loud in his ears.

But this particular signal, it sticks around long enough for Zelos to hold onto it, familiarity and curiosity both grabbing his attention and pulling it away from Mithos' song. He's... felt this before, hasn't he? He's heard this wavelength before, but not this gently, not this shyly, and definitely not this remorseful. The song fades in the distance, a distorted echo of itself as Zelos follows the message. And as he pushes himself towards it, tingling in his hands, buzzing behind his eyelids--Zelos feels that power once again, laying in waiting, that white noise he's only felt in his dreams before cutting into the song.

With the signal comes a flash of red, the image of a city of glass, and a request.

Oh.

Well, it's... it's not like Zelos has any other choice here, does he?

It's you again, comes the Aegis' slurred voice in his own mind. He doesn't know if it'll be heard, but he can try. Let me out. Just let me out. I don't care how. I can't move, anyways. Let me out.

Okay, comes the response.

And then the Architect pours his ether into Zelos.

Mithos stops singing. The ether in the room shifts, almost imperceptibly, but Mithos would not be Mithos if he did not notice. He turns his head and blinks at Zelos-- who had relaxed, at least, even if he remained unresponsive-- where the shift in the ether is centered around. That signal... it tastes faintly, distantly, like Father's...

Why would it...?

The door clicks and hisses with release, sliding open, and Mithos jumps to his feet. Freedom. Mithos lets out a delighted, relieved laugh, and--

Doesn't have time for anything else.

The ether swells around Zelos suddenly, overwhelmingly, and-- Mithos knows the taste, the shape of that swell. Horror knocks itself against Mithos' core, and Mithos spins to stare at Zelos, watching the ether build around him, swirling orange and teal and-- Why is that Father's ether? What is Father doing.

It's swelling way too much, way too fast. Any second now it's going to--

"Get down!!" Mithos screams, and because that's not going to be enough, he throws himself at Sheena and drags her in the direction of Kratos and Anna and that's not quite far enough either, because Malos and Lloyd aren't close at all-- But there's no time for that, no time to worry, if he doesn't do anything they're all going to die.

He slams a shield down around all of them, anchors it to the floor and pours all of his strength into it. He catches two guards in the shield along with Lloyd, but it doesn't matter because Lloyd is safe, Lloyd is safe--

Everything is drowned in blinding white. Mithos bites his tongue and inhales sharp and pained as the explosion eats at his shield. There's no danger of the shield buckling, but it hurts. It lasts five, ten terrible seconds.

And then it's over.

Mithos lets go of Sheena, only just realizing he was still clinging to her. He spins around, horror singing loud along his veins, as he surveys the scene. Outside of Mithos' haphazard, uneven shield, the building has become rubble, and there-- there are no bodies. The residual ether sings sharp and thick, tastes of Zelos, tastes of Father, holy and fiery and destructive, and underneath all that the residual taste of death, of bodies that were undone. But it's... it's safe to let the shield down. So Mithos does.

His eyes sweep to where Zelos was last. There's nothing there but a dim orange core crystal, now.

"No," Mithos whispers, and all that horror becomes burning fury. "No!" he screams, and pounds his fists against the ground before he turns his head to the sky. "Why did you-- you could have-- I could have taken that!! WHY DID YOU CHOOSE HIM!?"

There's just enough time for Sheena to enter the room they'd been held in, eyes locked on Zelos still unresponsive on the floor and every intention of getting him to safety even if she has to carry him again, when ether suddenly starts to build around him and Mithos tackles her. Backwards, away from Zelos.

"No!" she screams, tries to pull free even as Zelos's form is overtaken by brightly swirling ether. "Let me g--"

And then the world explodes into light around them.

More important to Sheena, though, is that even with the link closed down as it is, it's impossible for her not to feel it as their connection frays and then snaps. She fumbles, cries out wordlessly, trying in vain to hold onto him somehow, but--

It ends.

Even before she can see again, the sunspots in her eyes leaving her with only patchy vision, the second Mithos lets go of her she pulls herself back up, heart pounding loud in her ears. The sudden silence in her head is awful, but she clings to the only thing she can think of right now to make up for it.

(Even if I were to die, you'd just have to make sure nothing happens to my core crystal.)

She takes one unsteady step, trembling, then runs the rest of the way to Zelos's core crystal, scooping it up before anyone else can. It's still faintly warm as she holds it to her chest, head bowed and breath hitching.

Anna throwing a guard into Tabatha knocks off her focus, so Lloyd takes a second to breathe deeply and otherwise ignore how his lungs and shoulder blades ache, fighting back against the guards at full strength. His wings are still weak in their luminescence, but the angel strength remains, so he thanks his lucky stars, raising a blade to meet a guard’s -

Everything happens at once. Mithos screams, and Lloyd, distracted, barely dodges a swing before a shield goes down around everyone in the immediate area. The room goes white, with not even the guards able to stay focused as they pause in their battle, covering wide eyes with their arms. The light lasts for a few seconds, blinding, and then the illumination dims, letting him blink and observe what just happened.

Complete and utter annihilation. The remains of the building are nothing more than exposed wiring in concrete walls, dust and debris covering the floor around them. Lloyd would wager that the explosion took out several rooms within this single floor, and he wouldn’t doubt that the foundation of the building had been severely compromised. Aside from the guards around him, every other person nearby has been killed, without bodies left behind. Even Tabatha’s reflection hadn’t been spared, and Lloyd feels a quick pang of guilt in his heart for her - they hadn’t been able to save her.

Without notice, one of the guards yells out in surprise and shocks Lloyd into action. He cuts them down quickly, too concerned to otherwise worry about being particularly merciful, and really, it’s their fault for trying to sneak up on him, but then horror sinks deep into his mind, an unwelcomed and entirely heart-stopping presence. Lloyd gulps, slowly turning to face Mithos, the source of the horror, and then double checks the room around them.

Where’s Zelos?

Where is Zelos?

Lloyd had assumed that Zelos was within the shield, too, unable to check before everything happened as he was, but now - there’s no red hair, no bright orange ether lines, nothing to indicate that he’s here. Mithos’ same horror grips at Lloyd’s heart as he begins to shake his head, in denial. No, no no no no no, nothing could have happened, not to Zelos, not again.

Mithos begins yelling as Lloyd watches Sheena take a step forward, distant in his mind and in his body as he tries and fails to process what’s happened, what this means. Once again, he’s threatened by falling deep into memories and experiences he’s never wanted to live through, fresh dread ready to break him and his stitched-up heart in pieces. “No,” he whimpers, as Sheena picks up Zelos’ core crystal, the realization of what that means slicing through Lloyd like a sword through his chest. “No, not again.”

Grief picks up the places where Lloyd’s optimism usually lies, causing him to drop his swords, which clatter to the ground loudly, as he stumbles towards Sheena, already fighting off unbelieving tears. Throat filled with words he can’t say, a scream he won’t scream, he swallows hard, willing his lungs to breathe air they no longer want to breathe. Not again, not again, not again.

Wordlessly, he approaches the ninja, making his intent obvious, and pulls her into a hug, using all of his remaining strength to keep standing. His wings finally vanish from behind him, breaking off in a spectacle of sparkles as he grieves, holding Sheena close like a lifeline. “It’s not fair,” he mumbles, not even embarrassed when his voice cracks. Twice, now, they’ve been forced to watch Zelos die. “It’s not fair.”

And then silence reigns.

Anna forgets how to breathe for a minute, as the light engulfs them, too close too burning, everything roaring in her ears. Her arm aches in ways it hasn't for five years. She bites her tongue and waits it out. Finally it does end. It does end, and she's still here, and she's still conscious. Cool. Bad. What just blew up.

Mithos is screaming and Sheena goes running and. Oh. Oh no.

She straightens herself up-- the blast knocked her to her knees-- peering to watch Sheena find Zelos' core crystal (at least that is fine) and gets about that far before Malos plops himself down next to her, clinging to her arm. She reaches over and squeezes his wrist, sending him a tentative smile. The emotion bleed is still tight with sick panic, and Anna's pretty good at compartimentalizing shit when she has to, but she understands if Malos' balance is nowhere near as good as hers is, right now, after that.

"You good?" she asks him.

"Fine, I'm fine," he says back. "I'm-- fuck. We're all here, right?" He sits up tall so he can look over their little crowd, and Anna watches as his lips move as he does a headcount under his breath. "Oh, Architect," he hisses, finally, face scrunching up.

Anna sends a nervous glance at the kids-- Lloyd has joined Sheena, and part of Anna wants to go over there, go check on them, but what even is there for her to say? What can she even do for them? She's not sure there is anything...

"Yeah, Zelos is dead," Mithos snaps, pacing back and forth on his feet. "And I know he'll be fine as soon as he reconfigures himself after that, but-- If Father wanted to blow this place up, he should have used me as a conduit, the irresponsible bastard." He shoots a glare up at the sky, eyes fixed more towards the twin moons that hang near the sunset (had it been sunset, earlier? Anna really has no way of knowing, but she doubts they were all unconscious that long) than immediately above him and he gestures wildly as he keeps shouting. "I know how to channel his power! I would have been fine!"

Anna blinks. "Your father-- The Architect-- he can just...?" she begins, old scars still aching, especially as Malos tightens his grip on her arm.

"Just?" Mithos presses, spinning around to face Anna. But in that moment as their eyes meet over Kratos' head, they both take stock of just how not well Kratos is doing, at the moment. He's trembling violently, his breathing erratic as all the stress he'd been clinging onto up until now starts leaking out of him. "Kratos," Mithos says.

"Hey, hey, Kratos, it's okay," Anna begins, about the same moment, trying to aim for soothing despite how tight the emotion bleed from Malos still is, despite the pit in her gut where her knowledge of Zelos' death sits. Here-- here she knows what to do, for the most part.

Kratos shoots her a half-hearted, withering glare, and then briefly, sharply, signs something with his hands. He's taught her a little bit of sign, but it's been five years since she last practiced, so it isn't until Mithos says "You don't look fine," that Anna has more than a half hearted guess at what Kratos was trying to say.

Kratos signs something else, and Anna thinks she sees a 'where', at which Mithos immediately drops to his knees in front of Kratos, and though his expression is still tight, frustrated, his tone is gentle. "It's okay, Kratos," Mithos says. "It's okay, we're safe. You're free. Not much of a building left for them to trap us in, anyway." He laughs, nervous. "You can see the stars-- over there. You're alright, Kratos. Just-- take your time."

And Anna realizes that maybe she isn't needed here, right now, actually. Mithos has it handled, and Kratos is probably going to respond better to him, anyway. Swallowing, shoving down how useless she is and strangling it with her decision to do something useful somehow, Anna squeezes Malos' hand one more time and makes to get up. She still has no idea what she's going to say to the kids, still quite certain there's nothing she can say. (They both know that this isn't permament for Zelos, right? They have to. They have to, and bringing it up is a dick move, because-- this still sucks, and it's not going to suck any less until Zelos is back, so--) But she wants to say something, anyway, wants to check on them somehow, wants to...

She doesn't get to.

There’s a shout, a rush of movement, one more guard that had gotten caught in Mithos’ shield getting to his feet, sword drawn from his belt. Before Anna can get up to meet him, stop him, there’s a crack of a whip, a flash of blue flame, and--

Ah.

“Morag,” Anna greets, getting to her feet. “Fancy, uh, seeing you here.” As if she isn’t Sylvarant’s goddamn Special Inquisitor, the second highest rank in the entire empire, as if her being here isn’t potentially a very very bad thing. Or maybe a very very good thing. The guard is dead, but neither Morag nor her blade, Brighid, make any effort to make another attack.

“What do you want?” Mithos demands, on his feet and sword blazing, very deliberate about moving so he can step between the new arrivals and Kratos and, by extension, everyone else.

Brighid definitely tenses, but Morag remains still. Military training, Anna guesses, mouth curling in distaste. "Truthfully, I just want to find out what the hell is going on here," Morag says, icy.

"We intercepted a communication that said this checkpoint had two Aegises captured and ready for transport, even though the Emperor gave no such order to begin with," Brighid elaborates, her tone sharper than Morag’s. "So he sent us to check on the situation."

“Oh great, politicians,” Mithos sneers.

“Worse,” Anna tells him, sidelong. “Military.”

“Yeugh.”

Anna laughs, lightly, well aware of Morag’s and Brighid’s eyes on her, but not really caring. “Yeah,” she says, and then raising her voice back to normal speaking volume: “Well, we’ve got it handled, so you can. I dunno. Fuck off?”

Brighid looks about ready to set them both on fire, but a look from Morag keeps her from doing anything more than glare. (Anna would kind of hate that, the whole driver-not-letting-their-blade-do-shit thing, except Morag’s expression was the gentle, loving kind of save-your-energy-it-isn’t-worth-it look that Anna’s received from Kratos time and again, so.) “Tell me,” Morag says, clearly, and Anna unfortunately admires how she’s managing to remain completely and utterly calm and lowkey intimidating (n- not that it’s working!) despite the circumstances and the fact Mithos could literally cut her in half in between one blink and the next. “Did you manage to gather any information at all, or were you too eager to blow this place up? We suspect the traitors here had ties to the rogue cannon facility…”

“Rouge--” Mithos scoffs. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Gonna blame the torture of my sister on someone else huh? Humans.”

“The last thing the Emperor wants is war with Tethe’alla,” Brighid insists hotly.

“And how can we trust that?” Mithos counters, though if he hadn’t said it Anna would have. She kind of hates that they’re on the same page, right now. Mithos spends so much time at odds with her that actually agreeing on something feels… Weird.

“I suppose you do only have my word,” Morag says, with a sigh. “But trust that I would not lie about my brother’s wishes.”

As soon as she says the word brother, Mithos relaxes an inch or so.

“Well, what do you want with us, then?” Anna demands, because even if Sylvarant didn’t want the cannon to fire that doesn’t change that Morag is here and has the authority to have them all arrested again, even if she doesn’t have quite the manpower to see the endeavor through successfully. (But then, they don’t call her and Brighid the most powerful driver and blade in Sylvarant for nothing.) “Because quite honestly if you aren’t planning to just turn around and pretend you never ran into us, we may have to do something drastic.”

She turns to send a look at Mithos, and he grins. His sword, for a moment, glows brighter.

“How about a truce?” Morag asks.

“A truce?” Mithos repeats, disgusted.

“We all want to see that the cannon doesn’t fire again, don’t we?” Brighid says, terse. “Even if for different reasons, it only makes sense for us to join forces, doesn’t it?”

“And what exactly would we gain from a truce?” Anna asks, wanting to get the terms settled before they make any kind of decision.

“Safe passage to the facility,” Morag answers, without hesitation. “Faster passage to the facility, along with as much of the Sylvaranti military you think you need to pull off your rescue.”

“We won’t need it,” Mithos says, and you know what? That’s fair. Anna doesn’t want to involve a bunch of military troops that could theoretically turn on them any minute, either.

“The Emperor’s full pardon,” Morag says.

“Don’t need that, either,” Mithos says.

“Actually, it wouldn’t hurt,” Anna argues. At Mithos’ glare, she adds: “I’m serious! Politics are a bitch, and-- listen. If the Emperor himself endorses us blowing up Sylvarant’s cannon, that’s... I mean that’s at least worth maybe talking to him about, if you can arrange that, Morag?”

“I can try,” she says.

“We can also provide you with somewhere to rest, if you’d like,” Brighid adds. “You look like you could use it.”

“Pass,” Mithos says.

“No, we’ll take it,” Anna interjects.

“Wh--” Mithos grabs her by the arm and yanks her both towards him and down so she’s more his height. “What are you doing?!” he hisses. “Why are you trusting-- oh.” He drops her arm, glaring. “Because you’re human, that’s why. Of course you just trust unthinkingly--”

“If you don’t like it, you can sleep outside,” Anna snaps at him. “But I think the rest of us could use a goddamn bed after what we just went through.”

“What we really need is to be somewhere safe,” Mithos counters, and maybe he’s got a point there, actually, but.

Anna nods over to where Lloyd is, still. She doesn’t need to say anything. Mithos follows her gaze and… his expression softens.

“Fine,” he says, then turns to Morag. “But if I even think there’s funny business going on I’ll kill the whole lot of you.”

Morag chuckles. “That’s understandable,” she says, then turns and makes her way out of the rubble. “When you are ready, let me know. Take your time.”

Sheena's quiet the whole way back to the inn, sticking close to Lloyd's side. The conversation washes over her, lost in grief as she is, but she does her best to at least look like she's paying attention. Zelos's core crystal remains gripped tightly in her hand, the only thing she can focus on, its warmth and residual ether both fading as time pass in a way she hates.

When they do make it to the inn, she sits down hard on the closest bed, the tears she'd been forcing back threatening to spill over again now that she doesn't have to feign any kind of cohesion. Fuck. Fuck.

Mithos hates to leave Kratos, really, but he's coherent, even if clearly having a horrible time right now. And this... is more important than Kratos, actually. Now seems like the best time for it, anyway.

So Mithos approaches Sheena.

"Hey," he says, distracted, kind of rough. "Sorry to bother you, but can I see Zelos' core crystal? Father shouldn't have damaged that, but I want to check, anyway." He hates being open, vulnerable, especially with a human, but Zelos seemed to like his driver well enough, and it's for Zelos that Mithos is here. "It'll just make me feel better, I guess. Give me an estimate on how long it's gonna take him before he's ready to come back, too. I'll... be quick, promise."

Ding dong eveything is bad

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THE ALPHABET SOUP; IT SPELLS FUCK

we fucked it again

ME LOOKING AT THE GROUPCHAT LAUGHIGN LIKE HA HA IT JUST GOT WORSE

AAAAAAAAAAAA

THIS IS FUCKED

HI IM ABOUT TO MAKE THINGS WORSE

THANK YOU FOR THIS

I'M NOT SURE YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME BUT

FUCK YOU, DAD

ZELOS IS DEAD

🦀🦀🦀

DON'T CRAB RAVE AT A TIME LIKE THIS!!!!

FOLLOWS UP THAT INCREDIBLE TAG WITH A TINY ONE

IT'S FINE IT'S FINE