metaverses | CRISIS ON INFINITE DREAMWIDTHS: EVENT END

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!event end

CRISIS ON INFINITE DREAMWIDTHS: EVENT END

AT THE END OF THE WORLD

The sound isn't unlike thunder when the universe begins to crack apart. Loud, thrumming thuds that tear the sky and the fabric of reality. The nexuses are being stomped out, engulfed back into the void one by one.

Characters may be in these nexuses as they're slowly engulfed by the cracks. Some may be saying they're final goodbye's to old friends, new friends, or simply watching as the apocalypse descends on whichever world they're in.

And then, just before they're about to fall into oblivion - they're snatched away.

IN CENTRAL CITY —

Outside The Alliance HQ, Chaos Gate and the Silent Mystic stand with their eyes tightly shut, hands linked together as one. Above you the sky has turned a deep crimson. The crack is a yawning chasm as buildings are torn apart brick by brick, falling into the abyss.

If something isn't done soon then you're all dead.

This world is a nexus and this can't be changed, but it can be pulled from the 'between' it has fallen into, and restored to its proper place. This will require an enormous amount of energy. The mystics bid the gathered to join hands: they ask you to remember their world, the one they left behind and tether this world to it. Your strongest memories may bleed out, giving the people around you a glimpse of who you are, what you were.

The universally displaced are here with you. This is a last mingle opportunity. The comm will remain open so people can continue to play any threads they didn’t get a chance to during the run of the event. They too can join hands and share their memories, but as they are not tied to this dimension, when it’s restored they will either return to their own worlds or the nexuses they left behind.

CONNECTION —

Everything goes dark.

It feels endless, swallowing your sight as well as all sound as it closes in. Slowly, glowing threads begin to appear, tying one person to the next, then to the next, and so on. Only those who are linked to Metaheroes are tied with these golden glowing threads. The threads flow down to their feet and then shoot up towards the sky.

There's a boom, different to the thunderous cracks of before. The sky rushes back into place, day and night speeding by as it hurries to realign itself to the proper date and time. It's dizzying, for a moment, before it begins to feel grounding. Right.

The air feels different. Fresher, somehow. The sky is brighter; the world seems fuller, like it has been allowed to become what it should have been all along. A cheer goes up. The people are elated, relieved to see the sun again.

Players may be troubled should they have ventured into other worlds. They have seen the nexuses that have fallen to ruin, know how they too once felt exactly like this.

THE WORLD CONTINUES TO TURN —

The world has been restored to its proper place. Interdimensional communication is coming through again. The Guilds, exhausted as they were putting fires out across the non-meta cities, are relieved. Perhaps this is finally over.

With the return of interdimensional communication comes the return of interdimensional travel as well. This technology has been used in this world before; it was only with the advent of the recent powerful Confluences that it all went dark. Now that it’s back, the Guilds start to make plans immediately. It will take a little time to organize everything, but once they have a system in place, it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate everyone’s home universes and return them there. They set a tentative date for September 4th to start trying to return everyone home.

That being said, the government is none too happy with any of this. The Guild Systems were put into play by two metahumans who wanted the best for the world, as a means to protect them from those who would do them harm. Years have been spent slowly wrestling control from those two and now there is an opportunity.

Behind the scenes a storm is brewing. If they can spin this to blame the Unaligned then perhaps they have no more need for the Guilds. The Society is a thorn in their side that they’d like to finally be rid of, but they’re essentially untouchable. The Unaligned, however, are flagrantly breaking the law. Constantly putting themselves in the spotlight, making it all too easy to yank the rug out from under the metahuman leaders.

How wonderful for them that these strangers from away have made such a wreck of the trust in the systems that protected the metahumans of this world.

Mechanima is all too aware that things are about to go to hell. The Society is welcoming all metahumans, regardless of moral alignment, to join them. It is heavily encouraged among the rumor mill that the Unaligned should start reconsidering their position.

As the days go on, things begin to change across Meta.

Excelsior has become vehemently anti-metahuman. While this outrage may pass, they’re passing new AI laws in rapid succession. Limitations on what AI can and can’t inhabit. Limitations on robot bodies, on mechanical prosthetics, on the research that can be done into what gives things the spark of life. Magic is essentially forbidden within the city. Any abilities that can be mistaken as magic are treated as suspect.

Sunset Falls is worse for wear. Yet the people remain as grateful as ever to the metahumans who stepped in to save them. That gratitude outweighs any fear that they could have caused this - Sunset Falls has disasters all the time that have nothing to do with interdimensional weirdness. They continue to be unbothered by the metas among them.

Central City, having witnessed all the off-world metas stepping in to save them, is oddly grateful for this - but they haven’t forgotten what happened. The disappeared are among them again and are unharmed despite their sojourn through the universe, but the fact that it happened at all is cause for concern. Confluences are a problem. They want answers, they want solutions.

Little Love remains untouched and unchanged.

I DREAM A DREAM SO PRETTY —

Two days after the apocalypse is averted, every off-world meta will find a pillow lying on their doorstep. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you live - one of these pillows will find its way to you.

If you’re quick or wary enough, you may be able to catch a glimpse of the being that placed it there: a figure clad in blue robes. They’ll appear seemingly out of nowhere and lay the pillow down before vanishing into dust. Should they happen to notice they’ve been spotted, they’re clearly started, and lay a finger to their lips before departing.

Atop the pillow is a note: an invitation from the Dreamers of the Willow Maiden. You would have undoubtedly heard of this group: they have a presence in this world, though their reputation’s benign. They’re oddballs and weirdos, but ultimately harmless. They believe in the power of a good night’s sleep - literally.

If the note is to be believed, then the Willow Maiden herself has requested an audience with you, and this audience can only be granted in the world of dreams. Should you accept this offer, the note explains, all you need to do is lay your head upon this enchanted pillow. Sleep will come to you quickly.

Your dreams will be extremely vivid. There are recurring themes bleeding through them: your greatest accomplishment juxtaposed with your greatest failure. The moment you could have acted but stayed still. Highschool embarrassments. Falling. Flying. Here in your own dreamscape, you’ve got more control than anywhere else; you feel as though you can do anything. But beware: these dreams grab for you, both the nightmares and the fantasies. It can be easy to lose yourself and forget what exactly is real.

Luckily, the dreams grab for others as well. Sleeping metas may find themselves involuntarily wandering into one anothers’ dreams. Visitors to a dreamscape don’t have any powers outside of what they normally would, but they can reach out to the dream’s host, should they want to.

If no one else arrives, don’t worry. She is patient and waiting, and doesn’t mind that you stumble. Fall too far into the abyss, and she’ll reach out her hand to steady you.

THE WILLOW MAIDEN —

As you find your way out of the haze of your subconscious with uour allies at your side, the Willow Maiden greets you. She is a massive tree nymph, long-limbed and wooden. She is curled against an enormous tree, looking like a statue. At your approach, she lifts her head from the crook of her arm and extends a hand in greeting. Her smile is warm and motherly. You may feel distrust, but that feeling of safety and protection that guided you home radiates from her.

“You from a far away land, come to this world and made its own.” Her wooden lips don’t move, the words echo through your soul itself. “I can do little for you now but issue warning. Danger is waiting in the dawn, in the shine of her sword. You won this battle, your strength and the strength of all those you have touched has saved you… but she is coming.

She is coming.

“My time is short… your words cannot reach me as you are now. Carve yourselves a new future. One in this world and all others. Dream, and in those dreams, you shall become more powerful than even she can stand. My gift is the gift of new life, new lives, new futures… I have shielded you from her gaze until I could no longer bear it and now… I must rest. May the next time we met be true conversation.”

The Willow Maiden lays her head back down on the curve of her arms. Within moments, she’s asleep.

You wake. Not with a start, but as though you’ve been gently roused from a deep and restful sleep. The dreamsharing effect lingers, and can reoccur off and on throughout the month of September, but you will not find your way to the Willow Maiden’s realm again.

IN SUMMARY.

The fourth wall ends in a near apocalypse. Characters will have a chance to say goodbye while the metaphorical walls are closing in. They will be pulled back from the brink at the last second.

Through the collective effort of metaenergy, Metaheroes will rejoin the multiverse, tethered to the worlds which playable characters come from.

As a result, there's tentative optimism that characters will be able to go home

Anti-meta sentiment is growing across Excelsior, and within governing bodies. Government officials will begin looking to blame Unaligned heroes for various crimes and disturbances.

It's a good time to pick a side. Or don't.

Amidst all this, The Willow Maiden invites players to Meta's first dream share event. The dreaming effect lingers and characters may find themselves intermittently sharing dreams throughout September.

However pleasant this is, however cathartic - it doesn't change that things are tense in the waking world. The Willow Maiden's warning will ring in your ears, too: who is coming?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Back out? Oh hell no. He is far too tired for that shit. He would rather collapse down and just pretend the world had ended so he can sleep.

“I’m already planning on staying in,” he agreed, but ah, a kiss. Perhaps not the sort he wants, but damn he wants to fall over into these arms and sleep. That said… He looks toward his apartment and sighs.

“Maybe we should go to your place then.”

Sleep is something Balthier can offer. The historic location of his home has proven doubly beneficial -- little tech to go rogue, and not a hot spot for assumed meta behavior. Not that he's thrilled those benefits are necessary.

"Come on, I have my bike." Though when he leads David to it, it looks like a nondescript motorcycle. He's not taking chances, and has been illusioning whatever he can to not draw attention. He'll have to keep them low, follow traffic to maintain the image of a regular vehicle, but -- it's worth the hassle today. And he's not opposed to having David wrapped around him on the way.

The truth is he wants more of a kiss too, wants to just hold David and hide from the mess of emotion clouding his mind, but he's afraid if he starts he won't be able to pull himself back together, and worse, he doesn't want to put that on David.

"I'm glad I caught you," is what he does manage to say.

Yeah, the anti-Meta sentiment, the feelings about magic, and the store Balthier runs all make David worried about the safety Balthier will find here. It worried him. A lot.

“Alright. Just… drive safe,” David said before moving to follow. Finding somewhere to rest is just the only goal he cares about right now. He can consider safety later.

“I’m just glad that the mess has stopped. That happened twice, you know, back in the ImPort world. I think? Nexus worlds seem to be inherently dangerous for it.”

Balthier's safety, of course, hasn't even registered for himself beyond the automatic adjustments he's made from being a pirate and a wanted man for so long. This is old hat to him in a lot of ways.

But he's worried about David's work, and the apartment being guild heavy, and his powers acting up, and his mental health.

Balthier takes them at a gentle pace, and it's strange to be among traffic here. He's uneasy at some of the protestors they see, the angry signs.

"Do you want to tell me about it, or do you want me to distract you with something else?" he asks lowly. Oh, David; his love has been through so much.

And look, honestly, he doesn't want to think about the instability of this world. He knows he'll have to. Know it will creep in, but for once, for six blissful months, things had felt...good. Okay. Like there was a future he could trust.

Mental health was really up there with problems at the moment, but David didn’t know if the fact that this place was guild housing was really public knowledge. If it was, well that sucked.

Still, once they’re on the bike he settles against Balthier’s back and closes his eyes against the hate. He’s so tired of the hate. He thinks he liked being stupid levels of famous instead.

“I’m so tired of it, Balthier. The hate. The loathing. The assumption of ill intent and that we’re to blame. I dealt with it as a black kid growing up, I dealt with it as a mutant growing up, and more than anything else, I’m dealing with it now. And none of these things I am that they hate can be helped. I didn’t choose this.”

Balthier doesn't know either, he just knows that information exists and if someone gets ahold of it, it could be bad. He's glad David has his place -- and of course Tommy and anyone else is welcome too -- but that's not a solution. They need...gods they need an escape plan. Maybe a safe house. He's tired. He didn't want to live that life here.

It's good, to have David at his back. Grounds him. Reminds him that with all that, he has things he loves here. Things that make him not want to just run.

At David's sharing, one of his hands comes up to squeeze the arm around him. "I know, love." He doesn't have an answer for it. He's never understood why hate is so prominent. Doesn't love that it's true across the universe. Particularly hates how much David has been the target of. "You didn't choose any of this. And you're such a good person. It isn't remotely sensical."

He wishes he could say more, soothe it, take it away, but that's just empty lies, insulting even. Of course he can't solve this.

They did need a safe house. They needed an exit strategy. One that would cover more than just themselves. One to help the metas get out, Guild affiliated or otherwise. The question was, how did someone make a plan like that?

“They see us as destroying them. As if rampant AIs were at all our fault. As if the fucking fae that attacked was your fault. Their world was fucked up before we even got here.”

There is no sense here, just fear. And when fear was used to govern, it was so easy to turn others into a population others tried to control.

How did someone make a plan like that when the skies and borders were so carefully monitored and controlled, when there wasn't sky stone, when the guilds and governments kept track of people and their movements?

They would find a way. Balthier was stubborn enough. So was David. They knew people who would help. But it was daunting. And it would be slow. Time was the worst piece.

"It's easier to blame someone," Balthier agrees. "Because then you have the illusion that, if you stop them, all the suffering will stop. And what does it matter if the cost is someone else, some other population? No matter that t may be the people most trying to help." Scions, he understands how that works.

"I wish, not for the first time, I could just take you away to Ivalice." Not that it's perfect, not that they wouldn't have their own outsider issues, but magic, skin tone, being foreign -- those things wouldn't get them much attention.

Usually? Found someone who could create portals or do large scale teleportation. Or you make safe houses that allow you to move your people to a stating area before putting them in vehicles. It was the best you could do sometimes.

“Blaming people who are just as scared as you, who are just as likely to save someone as you is so stupid,” he grumbles.

“Your world does sound interesting. Especially since my leading man already saved it.”

Balthier was no stranger to 'the best you could do.' This isn't something he wants to have to be dealing with, but having a partner who cares too, who has the experience and values this sort of thing -- that's something he doesn't have words for.

"Unfortunately the vast majority of people are stupid," Balthier agrees, his hand resting over David's, fingers interlacing as well as they can from behind.

"Hopefully it's had the good sense to stay saved." He does wonder sometimes what's become of it. Did Larsa get ahold of Archadia? Have other powers risen to threaten things yet? There are always more scared idiots, and skies forbid they be competent.

They really are. He groans at the observation. It’s worse. A hell of a lot worse that that. It’s willful ignorance at times.

“Hopefully it does. sounds like you deserve that. Your world deserves that.”

He just wished he could put Balthier back where he belonged, with the people he loved.

It is, and it's fear and greed, not quite the kind Balthier has. Could anyone have stopped something like the Empire from coming to be? He doesn't know.

He squeezes David's hand, because he loves the other's heart, but he doesn't know if deserving has anything to do with reality. And he doesn't want to just be put back. He has people he loves here too, present company very much included.

"All any of us can do is keep spinning our story. You and I are both historically excellent at bending it to our will." Even if it's exhausting. Even if he doesn't want to have to again.

They're getting close to his building. Another street or so and he can put them in the alley that leads to the garage in the back. It feels like he's lived here a lot longer than he has. Hard to remember living in Ivalice sometimes.

“Spinning a story makes it sound like we tell the world, and ourselves lies. But I like the sound of it anyway.”

If he spins his story, then maybe he can control it, prune out the bad, and let himself be happy. For a change. And what a change it would be, to just be happy all over again. To know peace like that.

“Still, I wish I knew what to do, how to stop bending and let it flow with happiness.”

"Lies, fiction, aspirations, dreams -- splitting hairs at some point."

He knows David, though, the highs and lows, and how morose he can get when he's tired and frustrated.

He pulls them into the garage at the back of the house, dismounting and offering David a hand, partly so he can look at him when he says it. "You're learning," he says. "We both are." This time he cups David's face and kisses him properly. Not hungrily, but deeply. All of this is terrible, but David is worth it.

"Things are a mess," he says. "Maybe they always will be, in their way, but I get more time with you. Scions, I get to know you get more time. That means something to me." After this week, after everything that happened at home--

"And clearly I have to teach you to indulge more, take the highs when they come. And rest when we have the option. I hope you know you're going to be prisoner to my bed until you've slept." And maybe some of that is fond memory of the day he went to check on David, when things were tense, and the other just kept him there all afternoon and all evening and well into the next morning and Balthier knew how wanted he was. How safe.

“Hard to take the highs sometimes without worrying about the crashing lows,” he said, fatigued. He’d thought he’d been doing good, but he’d seen some posts on the network condemning Metas, and even a few suggesting that Prodigy, known to be haunting the streets of Excelsior with a helmet, might actually be a villain somehow, and perhaps responsible for the AI break.

Which was worse than the dullahan rumor actually.

“Is it really a prisoner when your bed is way more comfortable than mine?

Balthier cups his love's face in one hand, tangling their fingers with the other. "Is it not foolish to never enjoy the highs because we may crash?" His voice is low, gentle, not reprimanding in the least -- not yet, anyway. If David gets too far down this path, he'll be firmer. "If you do crash, I'll be there to make you rest while I nurse you back to health."

In some ways, that's what he's doing now, isn't it? David doesn't often bleed on the outside, but Balthier can feel those old emotional wounds. "Besides, you're an unreliable narrator." A deeper kiss in the privacy of the garage, this time properly on the lips.

"And it's prisoner because I will be giving you orders and I highly suspect you will be protesting." Because David's in a mood, understandably, but he still is.

Well that's a way to look at it. A way to talk to him. David takes a deep breath to focus on the words. They center him. He loves it, the feeling of support.

"Alright, yes, you're not wrong. I am most definitely happy to have you override my thoughts right now."

"Good boy," Balthier says lowly, pulling David tightly to him, cradling the back of his head. "You took care of the city; now let me take care of you."

Because he suspects that's what some of this is about, the moods where David pushes everyone away and pushes himself too hard: a long time being alone when he needed not to be.

"Alright, upstairs -- all the way up. I'll be there in a minute." He's going to heat up some leftovers and make sure David eats before anything else.

Took care of the city? Man, he didn't think he'd managed that.

"All the way? The roof?"

He's confused. Was that really the plan?

Those sorts of tasks don't have neat stopping points, checked off to-do lists. Balthier knows David helped a lot of people though; that's who he is, the kind of decisions he makes.

But he's laughing gently, shaking his head at the both of them. "Oh that brilliant, literal mind making me be more careful with my words." Which he loves. "No, just the the bedroom -- I didn't want you stopping in the kitchen to help me. The towels are all clean if you want a shower first. Or a bath."

No, they didn't. Why did David have to choose things that didn't involve discreet endpoints. IT would burn him away without management.

"Alright," he says, and knowing that Balthier won't let him cook. So he heads up and settles himself quite soon into a bath.

Because David cared about real problems, and real problems were hardly ever neat or finished. But he was also worried about the burning away part, and if he could at least help the other take breaks, that was something. David being willing to listen, well, he's glad for it. Feels valued. Feels helpful.

So he's pleased when he hears David start the bath, and twenty minutes later shows up in the bathroom to lay a tray across the lip of the tub, ladened with wine, water, and snacks. He plucks his own wine glass off it, kissing David's head. "I think I see some color in those cheeks again."

The world needed to be neater. It was moments like that where he thought about what was going on here, how he could make it better. It was moments like this that made the darkness in David that much easier to reach for, and that much harder to push away from.

Honestly, a slow soak helps. And he smiles at his love.

"Wine and munchies. You know my needs so well, love."

The world was never going to be that neat, not for anyone outside the ruling class or their chosen populace. But how could Balthier not love a romantic, stubborn heart that wanted to rewrite the rules?

Balthier drapes on the stool he keeps in here, barefoot and relaxing himself. It's good for his heart to see David here, rattled but alright. He chuckles at the compliment, pleased. "You're exceedingly easy in this respect, my moon. And when you're finished, I'm massaging your back." The hot water and relaxed body will make that more pleasant.

Hey, David was big on rewriting rules, was that such a problem?

"Massaging my back? Well, my star, you sure seem ready to spoil me. Do I look that bad?"

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