Any textbook will tell you that the Tarsus IV Disaster was thirteen years ago. The Tarsus colony's crops had failed, and a Klingon blockade had held up aid from Starfleet. But what had turned the crisis into a disaster was Governor Kodos' decision to cull the colonists. Kodos had been sympathetic to the eugenicist cause during the wars, and the moment strife hit the colony, Kodos implemented a eugenics theory of his own, killing off colonists who were old and weak or too young to contribute, supposedly to preserve food stores for those that remained. Starfleet should never have allowed him authority over the lives of others. It was one of Starfleet's more substantial failures.
It was the Enterprise's maiden voyage and Chris's first as its first officer. The Enterprise was en route to Tarsus IV with relief supplies when it was attacked by Klingons. The Enterprise successfully engaged, but its mission was delayed, along with its supply shipment.
The rest, the books usually leave out.
When the Enterprise arrived, something was off. The colony was not responding to hails. A scan of the surface revealed that there were only half as many life signs as they'd been told to expect, and even those were faint. The air around the camp was choked with fine grey ash. They could be walking into a trap. It made sense to send tactical and security ahead.
At April's urging, Chris had been one of the first to beam down to the surface, with a security team in tow. The first to see the inhuman misery that greeted them on the ground.
Half of the colony had been systematically obliterated, dematerialized en masse, returned to the universe as swirling clouds of carbon dust that mixed with the bare, red sun-scorched earth. Among those who survived the culling, some had not survived the violence that followed, the Governor seemingly among them. And those that remained were on the verge of starvation.
Chris remembers it vividly. The metallic smell of blood in the center below the observation tower. A human inventory with an excruciatingly long list of missing and presumed dead. Coordinating calls to next of kin when there was no family left to place it. Keeping extra rations out of the hands of the suffering because, when you've been starving, finally getting the food your body needs can sometimes kill you faster. The way some people didn't even look afraid or relieved, just... hollow.
Chris knows it haunted April. It haunts him, too. He doesn't beat himself up anymore for spending the extra few minutes on cross checks and all-call, since it was an unfamiliar ship they'd rushed to crew. But he sometimes dreams about it even now, when he has far more to populate his nightmares. Sometimes he knows it's a dream, but he still can't change it. It's just a time-loop his subconscious gets stuck in. Trying and failing, remembering and forgetting. Ultimately, those dreams are always the same.
Except tonight.
Tonight, it starts--
The bridge of the USS Enterprise is quiet, save for the faint crackle of static over the comms. Captain Robert April is at the CONN, arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen. First Officer Christopher Pike stands at his side, or at least he thinks he does. The edges of the space around him feel a bit too bright, too sharp, but fluid at the edges. Like the ship behind him might not be quite the same if he looks back again.
Over tinny speakers, a boy’s voice cuts through everything else. Raw and trembling. Desperate. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Tarsus Colony Four, requesting immediate assistance for myself and eight other juveniles. I am at Research Station 6, but I—I can’t stay long. General Kodos has declared martial law, and half the population is dead. There is a planet-wide famine—we have no food, and are in need of immediate medical attention.”
"We will be killed if Kodos finds us. I repeat, mayday, mayday, mayday. We are in need of immediate assistance. Please…please help us. We can’t last much longer. Over.” With that, the message ends and the room is silent, the boy’s final plea hanging heavy in the air.
The first thought in Chris' mind is, this is wrong. Not just wrong in the way that the death of innocents is always wrong, but in the sense that something isn't right. He's aware that time is off somehow, but that doesn't strike him as problematic. The now Chris is experiencing simply came before the past he remembers. The present-past and the past-present. He is Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time. He was here before. He is here now. He will be here again. That doesn't bother him. The call does, because it's different.
Weren't we just engaging the Klingons? Weren't the Klingons jamming our communications array? He could have sworn to it, but he doesn't see them anywhere. Their comms are open. Communications intercepted the message only moments ago. Did this happen before? Did we miss it? Did we ignore it? He doesn't remember liberating a research station. He remembers.... well, he remembers that most of the facilities were already burnt to cinders, an attempt to destroy evidence of the Governor's plans that the Governor himself succumbed to. Did someone find them? Did these people die trying to reach us?
"Pike?" Captain April is tall and steady, his voice calm as it echoes across the room. Pike tries to focus on him, but it takes a moment, like he's tuning a radio dial between two stations. Chris blinks again and nods to April, returning to the scene. Usually, this is when he fires photon torpedoes. But the only thing in front of him now is the vast emptiness of space.
"Helmsman, set in a course for Tarsus IV, maximum warp. And get engineering on the horn. Tell them it's all hands. Lieutenant Freeman, open a channel, same frequency." If he's stepping on toes, April allows it. Maybe he doesn't know what he's supposed to do, either. Chris's subconscious usually tells him.
"This is Commander Christopher Pike, USS Enterprise. We received your transmission, and we're on our way to your location with supplies and medical. Recommend that you shelter in place if the building can be secured. Otherwise --- I'll find you."
[No matter how good his moves were. In fact, there's something about it... it's surprising, but Morph doesn't know why. Haven't they seen Rosen fight before? It seems like they should have, since he's an ally of the team, yet they can't remember at all. That knowledge simply isn't there, which is a little disturbing for a shapeshifter that relies so much on observing other people.
They shift to Psylocke's form to duck under a couple of swooping demons, swords in their hands that they use to soon after cut one down. The demons don't have blood, but a colorful ichor instead that falls to stain the rocks they stand on.]
The clone... that's right! There's a second Jean! She must be in our heads!
[Both her tone and the sparkle in her eye says she doesn't really believe him when he says that, but she won't question it too much. Maybe malls in America are way different! Or maybe Scott also goes to the mall to form social links with sketchy company presidents and alcoholic monks.
Her eyebrows quirk up at his question, a little surprised, but -- yeah, that's what Junpei had done for her, so why not! It's a great way to get to know the town, so after a moment to consider it, she just shrugs and nods.]
Sure, I don't mind! Pawlonia Mall has some cool places to go. You can do karaoke, there's an arcade, there's a café and a stone shop I work at sometimes... it's too early for the club to be open, though.
[Her eyes sparkle a little again as she mentions the club, both at the memory of spending time together with Mutatsu, but also to see Scott's reaction. How's his Courage stat?]
[Once again, she blinks, struck once again by the feeling that something's weird. Is that supposed to be a joke...? That can't actually be the name of a real school!! But it would probably be rude to just laugh, so instead she'll play along.]
Oh, yeah? Where's that?
[As she's perusing the board for Kakashi's name, she can't help but watch him curiously out of the corner of her eye. How come none of the teachers are coming after him for not wearing his uniform...? And actually, doesn't he look a little young? Like, he can't be that much older than Ken.]
[She says it frankly, as if he's just meant to accept that. Mitsuru or Akihiko are the ones way better suited to giving explanations and exposition -- even Fuuka, but Kotone doesn't even have to touch her ear to know that her friend isn't available right now. Sometimes they get cut off when exploring Tartarus, so Kotone isn't too worried.]
My senpai can explain more, but for now, let's focus on getting you out of here. I don't think there's any teleporters on this floor, so we're gonna have to keep moving up. Do you have a Persona?
[Like, if he's awake during the Dark Hour, he must have one, right? Or at least the potential to awaken one. Again, this is definitely more the specialty of her senpai than her own.]
[ The joke is lost on Chris, who just thinks they're both excited to be having this rare cultural experience. But he mimics the gesture. He likes it. He'll call it New Pointing. ]
That would be great. I've been to schools before, mind you. But only in California. And my parents both taught at my old high school.
[And she really does appreciate it, though; Thanatos might not have healing spells, but he can do a lot of damage. As one of the primary damage-dealers on the team herself, it's kind of fun to focus on something else for once! And preventing Ryoji from getting hurt feels like one of the most important things.
So that forlorn look catches her attention. She glances back at him as if to confirm it to herself before returning her gaze to the man in front of her.]
Don't look so sad. Fuuka's gonna be happy you're calling!
[She knows that's almost certainly not the reason behind that look, but she has to tease him before trying to dig deeper.]
[She doesn't believe him and that's so rude. He can tell, no matter how cheerful her smile is. Is it strange that he can read her so well? Or maybe she's just always this open with others. She really seems like one of the most popular girls around here... kind of the opposite of Jean. Honestly, this whole experience is pretty much the opposite of when he first arrived at Xavier's Institute, where he and Jean got off on the wrong foot. They're close now, of course, but it was rough that first day. Didn't help that he was wearing a blindfold then.
Things really are different now.
Because not only he can see, but he might be hanging out with Kotone immediately. Something unexpectedly warm beats in his chest at the thought, similar to how he and Jean hung out at the mall, but maybe even stronger. He doesn't understand it, but that just means he has to put forth that 'super cool' demeanor up even more.]
Seriously? You actually go to clubs?
[He totally didn't expect that! Sure, cafes and arcades (although what the hell is karaoke), but a night club? Maybe he has to rethink his initial impression of her, because Scott just assumed that Kotone was one of those perky overachievers that didn't do anything wild. Hell, he's never been to a club before... but he can't admit that! In fact, he has to take her on that.]
Let's go, when it opens. [He half-demands, half-asks with a smirk, although the image is a little ruined because--] I want to see what a club is like-- I mean, a Japanese one.
[That's right! He's a magical girl with his magical lyre.]
Hmm! I think I can do that! Here we are...
[Venti launches into a gentle, sweet tune. Nothing too complicated, only soft and melodious.
and since I'm terrible at writing lyrics Venti sings about a windy city high up in the grassy mountains. Where white flowers called cecelias grow and the wind protects the city from harm. A peaceful city that chases its freedom and enjoys the songs and happiness that they've earned.
He also sings about how Mondstadt was once riddled with war. And how Mondstadt's people rallied together to fight for the freedom and peace they have now. Something that they cherish deeply. And do their best to maintain.]
[The onslaught drives 2—- back again, the force of the blows each rattling through her. The words rattle her in a different way, though it may be hard to spot. Where A2’s rage is clear in her eyes, 2—- is still viewing the world through her scanner.]
It doesn’t matter what I think.
[She tries to get a counter in, but there’s never time. A2’s words have already hit home. (It comes back. Six months. Six months of no one but old computers greeting her by another name. Six months doggedly chasing one thing and always coming up with nothing.) Weapons clash pointlessly. Graceful as the two are, sooner or later, 2—-‘s foot comes down on one of her own body’s neck, just enough of an unsteady moment.
The sword bites into her arm, and 2—- clamps down on a pained sound. At least there’s a bit more color decorating this false city.]
You say that like there’s a choice. But you and I - what else do we have?
[ The robed figure, similarly, draws away at the scolding. A moment later, Viktor makes it evident which one of them he's addressing, sharp and brokering no debate. ]
The boy has said he is not yours. Take your tithe elsewhere.
[ Not that the shade could debate if it wanted, though the way it rips gold thread from the edges of its own robe, unraveling the make of itself in response, is decidedly petulant. Viktor simply stares until the spinner adds more of itself to its spool and sets to spinning, again. He does not seem to notice that his own edges start to fade as the spinner uses itself for fuel.
The dreamer levels empty eyes at Riku and smiles, all comfort. If he is in pain from his bloodied hands, it doesn't quite show on his face. ]
We are going to journey's start. 'Twould be safest for you to leave now, lest you find yourself tangled up in it inadvertently.
[Behind his mask, Amon sneers. He had believed this once, hadn't he? He'd believed that his life and those of his countrymen had meaning. That there was value in their existence.
Such hopeful longing was before... before...
His mind twists.]
Long did I search for meaning. None did I find.
[Amon moans as memories seep in from the waking world of a mask, robes, secrecy, and a deep, spiritual pain.
His form shifts and ripples, as if he isn't sure what he should look like anymore. Long, elven limbs shorten, gray skin turns white and the motley's bright colors darken into tamarind.
Fandaniel, once again wearing the corpse of Asahi, frowns at Ryoji but stares past him.]
Life's journey is fraught with suffering. We could shorten the road, you and I...
[The hands on his face and the wings pressed around him should repulse him, he knows. A part of him wants to pull away, to jeer and cackle but the rest of him refuses to move. This is where he's always wanted to be, after all. For thousands of years, he's sought the comforting embrace of death.
Some might argue that relishing the brutal, horrific nature of battle does.
[Rosen chuckles as he stabs his spear into another unfortunate beast that attempted to attack him. He thrusts the sharp blade of his lance through the monster's torso before kicking the lance's hilt upward with enough force to cut it in half from the navel. It's an unnecessary, brutal maneuver that results in a shower of colorful ichor in the air.]
Now what's all this about a clone?
[He removes the Lúin of Celtchar from the fallen beast and hunts for the alleged clone. To be honest, Rosen has no idea who these guys are, but he is impressed by Morph's ability to shift into various mutants. It appears that each of these mutants boasts a distinct set of fantastical skills. This reminds him of his fellow arkanas, but Rosen prefers not to think about them.
Instead, he turns to Morph (well, Psylocke!Morph) with a look of confusion.]
If she is in our heads, then how do we get her out?
[His hatred has never burned in such a wild way, and even as Zekarion blinks and finds himself on the dreary streets of London, the hair on the back of his neck still stands on end. He feels the grime on his hands and the rest of him can be nothing but blood—though a glimpse at himself proves otherwise.
An unsettled amber gaze meets Richard's eyes, and what he sees there feels—not for him. Too gentle to be truly for him, no matter how well he pretends. Nevertheless, it settles his nerves somewhat from the memory of a brown-haired young man bleeding out in his arms.
Altius catches the coin out of the air without thinking, but he doesn't even open his hand to glance at his prize, his attention remaining on the royal. He's not thinking as quickly as he might have, but he still manages a mild plea before Richard has taken his second step:]
The reaction is understandable; more than once, Vincent has felt such similar frustrations. So, he gives her the space to process, to be angry. It is deserved.
"Of course," in response to her gratitude.
A pause, then he adds, "I know too well how often those who run this simulation force us to expose ourselves. I've been subject to it time and again myself. It is invasive. ...I will not mention this memory to anyone."
[Her smile widens when he agrees, a bit of excitement thrumming through her chest. It's at this point she would normally check her planner and make sure there wasn't anyone else she was planning to spend time with today -- not only that, it sounds like Scott wants to take up not only her afternoon, but her evening. And yet, for some reason, she doesn't even think twice before agreeing,] Okay! I can probably get you in.
[The bartender is the lax sort; most people who are underage don't have her confidence to just walk right in like she belongs there. It's not like she's ordering any alcohol for herself, anyway!
More than just the place, though, it's the promise of spending more time with this funny American exchange student. Maybe that's why her smile turns impish in the perpetual urge to tease the people she likes.]
What are clubs in America like?
[Calling him on his bluff immediately, as much as she tries to project an air of innocent curiosity. As they're speaking, she leads him up the stairs and past the classrooms. Might as well finish the tour!]
[ it's automatic to just nod, taking her matter-of-fact explanation at face value. after all, he's heard of stranger things while-- while what? surely all this should be freaking him out more, since he's just a student.
his back is really starting to burn. the hand around his weapon tightens his grip. everything feels hazy, as if this was... ]
A Persona? I'm not sure. I've never heard of it.
[ magic and fighting. healing. barriers. he's sure of those, but nothing with a name like that. riku frowns at kotone, looking increasingly lost. ]
[Wow, on top of everything else, are they not supposed to be at a club? That makes sense, since they're underage-- at least it'd definitely be underage back in America. He honestly has very little idea of the laws in Japan, other than maybe the drinking age being younger, but it's clear by her words that not just anyone can walk in the club and that makes it more exciting. It's like being in a place they're not technically supposed to be at.
It totally fits in with what he wants to do. Being cool and experiencing Japan at the same time. ...And maybe finding someone to hang out with so that he doesn't feel alone in a foreign country, but that's just a small thing. Really!!]
Oh, you know. [He starts and Scott's totally not just imagining what clubs are like or just remembering what they are like in movies he's seen before. Scott lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, trying to look unaffected, even as he continues to follow her through the building.]
[Someday, someday— someday is nice, Octavian thinks, for both the promise of it and the lack of an immediate rush to the finish. Here they can be content to say someday and trust each other to mean it, where to other people someday may have actually been absolutely not, ever.
So. Someday is nice. The sunset is lovely, Viktor's skinny shoulder is surprisingly comfortable— it's all very nice, here. As is Viktor's story about his parents and his Academy, which makes Octavian laugh; never loud, but his shoulders shake with the small sound of it, and that much is readily noticeable.]
You walked right in? They should have given you the keys to the whole campus.
[And also not pigeonholed him as that strange professor's assistant, but that's a topic for another time, too. Viktor's intellect is wasted being assistant to anybody, Octavian thinks, and there's something about being impressed by the work of a "student" and shifting him over into a position with arguably less upward mobility than an actual student that feels... odd. Feels closer to "discarded immediately" than it perhaps should, but, well, hell if University darling and local wealthy prodigy Octavian can really speak to that.
But it feels odd.]
Your parents must have been proud. Did they know? Before you walked in?
[Or was the uniform just a nice gift, and Viktor had other plans—]
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expiationlogs2025-01-13 12:39 pm
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