DUNGEON LOG: KEYSTONE SHORE

[phantasmods]

The morning of the 9th, everyone will get a message sent to their communication devices -

Okay, guys! I think we have enough stabilizers to try and get the shoreline stable. If you want to help out, grab your supplies and come on up to the roof!

When characters arrive at the roof, they'll find Top - with a wheeling table full of many copies of the same odd-looking device - the two exploratory drones, and a ramp down off the roof to the ground. (The latter looks a little hastily constructed.)

"Okay," Top says, picking up one of the devices. "Here's the stabilizers. Stick them to walls and stuff - mostly out of the way places where they're not going to get knocked off - and then press the buttons along the side."

They demonstrate, unfolding the set of legs at one end of the device before showing the buttons to anyone who's close enough. "Go ahead and take a couple, especially if you've got one of those space-saving inventories going on, I know there's like four of you with those? Strange got some first aid kits together, too, if you want."

Sure enough, another table nearby has the med kits... As well as traditional paper bag lunches, courtesy of Bottom. Don't question it too much.

"We'll be staying back here to keep track of the stabilization progress and work the drones," Top says, "but don't hesitate to call if you get in trouble! We'll send one of these guys down to get you an evac if you need it."

And with that, you're free to go down the ramp... Or to make for the beach however else you might choose to go.

Comments

[photoshooter]

Because...

[He doesn't have a real answer ready, and it's only half because of course, there isn't any answer, he shouldn't be any different. The other half, the more paralyzing half, comes from twenty years of knowing he looks different, he feels different, he doesn't connect to people the same way. There's so much he's never been able to tell people. So much of himself he couldn't share, the way everyone else shares, the way people become part of people, collective.]

It's different for the guys, they know me. They'd keep me around even if I was some kind of soulless monster, probably. But how can you... How can anyone else trust me like a human, knowing I was... made, like that? That I'm something artificial, like--like those fake plastic plants people have in their offices, or, or soy bacon.

[founderinglight]

Because you think and feel the same as anyone else.

[To say things with this confidence is a skill required of a king. The unshakable belief - ]

You're not a plastic plant, for crystal's sake. At worst, you're one grown from a cutting instead of from seed. And those grown from cuttings have roots and leaves and flowers the same as any other.

[photoshooter]

...Plants can do that?

1/2

[founderinglight]

...Many of them, yes. Citrus trees in particular are known to accept branches spliced in from other trees, and so bear multiple kinds of fruit -

[founderinglight]

... Not the point.

[photoshooter]

You're the one who extended the metaphor!

[It's a simile, Prompto.]

[founderinglight]

Yes but let's not turn it into a full tangent on horticulture.

[photoshooter]

[He grumbles, but accedes.]

Fine. Whatever. I guess it's stupid to keep worrying about this.

[...Buuuut he's gonna keep worrying about it.]

[founderinglight]

People worry about all sorts of foolish things, Prompto. I'm two thousand years old and I can't sleep without a nightlight.

If it concerns you so, that's reason enough for it to matter.

[photoshooter]

...

[Prompto uncurls enough to look at him, then sits cross-legged once more as he fiddles with his jacket. Something comes free, and he hands his flashlight up to Izunia.]

Here. ...Just give it back in the morning, okay?

[founderinglight]

...Don't you have need of it?

[photoshooter]

[He shakes his head and then points at the lovely lights swimming through the lagoon.]

They remind me of the lights at a haven. I'll be okay.

[Nightmares come whether or not he's got a flashlight on hand.]

[founderinglight]

If you're sure.

[He tacks the light onto the scarf at his collar, where it won't flip over to shine into his chest.]

[photoshooter]

Sure I'm sure.

[He huddles up once more, trying to get warm in the blanket.]

My daemon terrors are different from your daemon terrors, and that's okay.

[founderinglight]

You'd likely be surprised. I've had quite a variety of them.

[After a moment, he stands and comes over... a mug of hot chocolate in his hand. Here, Prompto, get some warm in you.]

It's true that I don't understand why it troubles you so much. But that doesn't mean that I don't see it.

[photoshooter]

Because...

[Maybe he'd start to explain--or try to, since feelings are hard--but then the crunch of gravel gets him to look up and blink.]

Oh. That's for me?

[founderinglight]

I don't see anyone else around, do you? I thought it might do you some good.

[Also he's being careful to not shine the light in your face.]

[photoshooter]

I mean, it's yours, it could've been for you.

[He takes the mug, though, and blows on it a couple times before taking a sip.]

...It's good. Thanks.

[founderinglight]

I'm getting into the habit of carrying extra. Better too many supplies than too few.

[He settles into a seat next to Prompto and pulls his own blanket up around his shoulders.]

[photoshooter]

[Sigh.]

We don't all have access to the Draconian's pocket space, you know.

[founderinglight]

It's my pocket space.

[He actually sounds a little offended?]

[photoshooter]

[Wow, what did Bahamut ever do to you, Founder King?]

Uhh, didn't the royal lines get their magic and stuff from the Draconian? That's what people say.

[founderinglight]

Along with a certain prophecy and a great deal of lies.

[That's... honestly really venomous, probably enough to give Prompto a 'well uh, you sure are Ardyn's twin' moment.

After a moment, Izunia looks away. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. For all that they normally have that unspoken 'don't talk about Ardyn' rule - ]

He told me there was nothing left. Just a daemon wearing my brother's skin. Fool I was, I believed him.

[photoshooter]

[The resemblance is enough to make Prompto shudder for a second, but being able to talk one on one like this, not held at anyone's mercy, has allayed some of Prompto's immediate terror over the last few weeks.

Still, it's a while before he says anything.]

I see.

[In a way, Ardyn did the same to them: helped when it pleased him and played them all like penny flutes.]

I'm sorry.

[founderinglight]

The Bladekeeper can burn for what he has done to me and my family. If I ever have any say in it, he will.

[He can't stop. He shouldn't unload this on Prompto of all people, but he just... can't stop. The rage blossoms like flames, crackles like lightning - ]

He made the Oracles a line of healers and though it burns their lives out quickly, it does them no harm, to remove the Scourge with that light. Not like it did Ardyn. Not like my brother, who healed by taking the Scourge into himself -

There was no reason to make my brother a monster. He only ever wanted to help people.

[ - and chills like ice, the Glacian's frigid touch, smoothing over like a frozen pond, until only sorrow remains.]

No reason to make my brother a monster, no reason to bind my children and grandchildren and all the rest to the ring, and no reason to make Noctis die to end it all.