phantasmemes | TEST DRIVE 006

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!test drive

TEST DRIVE 006

Hello and welcome to Phantasmal Rift's Test Drive Meme!

Test drive threads are assumed to be game canon for accepted characters unless otherwise noted, so don't feel like you'll have to introduce yourself a second time to everyone you meet! As an added bonus, participation in the test drive comes with the chance to earn up to two items of loot for your trouble! Characters who are accepted can earn one item for having a top level, and one for tagging out to someone else's top level! Your SWEET LOOT will be included with your acceptance notice.

Additionally, characters currently in game can earn themselves a piece of bonus loot for the dungeon by tagging people's top-levels on the test drive! Existing characters get their bonus loot along with the rest of their loot at the conclusion of the dungeon.

This test drive takes place in the Telovia Mines, an extremely abandoned magical crystal mine and the town and infrastructure that one supported it. The tunnels are in reasonably good condition and would be reasonably navigable... Except for one thing.

ONE MINOR THING

The magical effects of the Fissure cause those within it to lose something when they arrive - for most people, it's a sense such as touch or hearing, but it's also possible to lose a more esoteric sense (such as your sense of balance or temperature, but NOT things like "sense of morals" or "sense of style"), the ability to speak, or the ability to recognize faces. As a general guideline, whatever characters lose should be non-supernatural in nature, and something they would have taken for granted as a part of their ability to function.

ODDS AND ENDS

Just because the mines are empty of people doesn't mean that they've gone still. While for the most part, the carts full of crystals remain in one place, the huge amount of magic has left more than a few of the miners' abandoned tools still going through their motions. Rusted pickaxes swing at the walls, and dead lanterns swing from the ceiling. Crystals occasionally free themselves from shards of rock to pile into bins, which then empty into already-overflowing mine carts.

As long as you leave them to their jobs, everything will be fine. If you try to stop the tools (and it is the tools themselves, for anyone who might be looking for ghosts) from doing their jobs, they'll chase you down until you leave their general vicinity.

Of course, the eternally working tools don't care much about the structural integrity of the mine tunnels...

THEY ALL PILE UP

...And so, inevitably, there are cave-ins.

Most of them are fairly minor, and you can see them (well, if you can see) enough to just work around them. Some of them are big enough that you're going to have to dig through them first, if you can.

And then there's the handful that block passages entirely. But don't panic! The tunnels are designed around the possibility of this happening - rather than coming to an end, the majority of them loop back around to the main arteries of the mine.

E... ventually...

But you and whoever is stuck with you on this side of the cave-in might be wandering for quite a while before you get there. Hopefully one of you still has a sense of direction, assuming either of you ever had one in the first place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not like the date probably makes sense anyway, since it's from this world.

"Good." Conversely, Izunia seems to grow a little more tense, munching through a slice of pear before speaking again. "I don't know what you might know of the story, so if it's alright with you, I'll start from the beginning."

Nonsensical dates aside it is still very interesting.

But Talcott settles in, watching Izunia a little more closely as the tension in him grows. He wants to focus on the other man entirely, see what he gives away without realizing it, especially since he can't see the intensity of his focus. But they're not somewhere safe enough for him to do that so he'll have to split his attention, as frustrating as it is.

"From the beginning sounds like the best. As I said, what information I have is... scattered at best."

"Very well."

Izunia settles back into his chair and visibly tries to relax. It won't be very long at all before Talcott sees him pull something else from the Armiger - a small velvet sack that contains a bracelet he slips on and a number of colorful, faceted crystals. They glitter in the dim light, and after a moment, start to hover by the means of some unknown magic.

"The circumstances of our birth are... Well, fairly obvious if you look at us. Ardyn is the elder, by some handful of minutes, but I tended to be the responsible one. He was playful, and took the lead on almost everything, while I smoothed out any ruffled feathers and kept him from doing anything too risky." His voice is warm and fond, but with a touch of grief. "Normal enough, even for children growing up at the end of the Astral War, when the Scourge and daemons lurked in all corners much as it does in your time. We were twenty or so when Ardyn was... Chosen."

And here the purpose of the little crystals becomes clear - even if Izunia can't see them, himself, the way he twitches his fingers to send them floating into a spinning circle is clearly a routine sort of fidget. "Led by a vision, he went off in search of the slumbering gods, and returned with four things - the Crystal, the Ring of the Lucii, the prophecy of the Chosen King, and a blessing - the power to heal the Scourge from the afflicted. The Armiger was already ours, a last kiss from the magical power thrown about by the Astral War, or so we thought - I think there were some other handful of children with such powers born in that era, though I can no longer recall any such details.

"And so for fifteen years he wandered the earth, healing all he came across, with Gilgamesh at his side - I went with them on occasion, but for the most part I was occupied in what would eventually become Insomnia, leading the repair of infrastructure and research into what the Scourge actually was. Even if we could not cure it, we could find out how it spread, slow the infection - the only help to my brother's mission I could truly give.

"I don't remember how exactly I became exposed, but I know that it must have been in the process of that work, because we lost many other researchers to the same. Ardyn heard, and of course rushed home for my sake, and even then he was only barely in time; I was already at the point of hallucinations and fever. By that time, I had the feeling there was something wrong, for Ardyn had already begun dressing in many layers and keeping his face shaded in a healer's hood."

The circle of bobbing crystals tightens in a snap. "But nothing could have prepared me for what I woke up to see - my brother's face the grey of a corpse, the Scourge leaking from his eyes. I thought it another fever nightmare and I - " A hitch. " - I struck with one of the blades I kept always in my Armiger. And I knew the wound to be mortal even before he hit the ground, but that impact never came. He dissolved instead, like a daemon, leaving nothing behind."

Talcott listens intently, sipping slowly on his coffee, savoring it and letting his gaze get drawn in by the play of those crystals more than he'd like to admit. It surprising to him in a way, that the Founder King should be so willing to do something which obviously gives him away. The kinds of tells that even Ignis would never allow.

He'd expected more posturing, more politicking. It's... actually very humanizing and reassuring, seeing the legend as nothing more than a man burdened with memories like the rest of them. He can see where the tale is going even before Izunia hesitates and he frowns, stares down into his coffee for a long moment, seeing only the shattered pieces of Chloe's face again.

"You were frightened, thought yourself in danger. You reacted and if the training you went through then was anything like what it was for Noctis then-" He shakes his head, sighs softly to convey that same feeling audibly. "Can you really blame yourself?"

Of course he can. Of course he does that much is clear. And if someone like the king can be held responsible for such actions then-

No. No no no no Chloe shot him it wasn't his fault.

"D-don't... don't answer that."

"...I don't think it's a matter of blame. But forgiving myself..."

It's another matter entirely, and it sounds like one that Talcott, unfortunately, knows well enough. He lets the silence hang, in sparkling crystals and the sound of the rain, for just a moment.

"The true nature of Ardyn's power, that he kept hidden from even me and Gilgamesh, was that... He didn't heal the Scourge, in the way that the line of the Oracle later would. He simply took the infection into himself, more than any human should have been able to contain. I think that what happened would have happened eventually, when it grew too much for his body, a point that I think was very near. But I cannot be sure, and I cannot ask - Ardyn remembers little to nothing before the events that immediately followed his transformation.

"Distraught, I sought the Crystal for guidance. There, the Draconian told me that Ardyn had become a daemon - something worse than a daemon, even, the avatar of all that was dark and twisted by the Scourge. I didn't want to believe it. But two nights later... I was asleep, in that same room, and I woke to hands around my throat. Ardyn, black-weeping and berserk. If Gilgamesh hadn't come... I believed, then.

"I had the daemon Ardyn captured, contained, but I - the Draconian laid the role of king at my feet, and I picked it up, because the people still needed someone. And I let 'Izunia' be the brother who had died, replaced by a daemon, and 'Ardyn' be the beloved king wracked by grief. I told myself that it was for the sake of everyone else - 'Izunia' had few people who would miss him in comparison, after all. I was sparing the world grief."

A shaky inhale, exhale, Izunia running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes, even if he can't see through them right now anyway. The circle of crystals continues to spin; the orb of light hanging over their little campsite wobbles.

"...The truth I can admit to now is that... I just couldn't handle a world without him. So I sealed away my heart and committed the whole of my being to the substitution, to the mad attempt at recreating the brother I had lost with my own self. And the daemon that I blamed for taking him away from me - the daemon that was, still, always, my brother - even if prophecy said I couldn't kill it, I could hurt it, for taking him away from me."

He almost can't say it, not outright. The turn of the phrase he uses is not for politics, but for his own chances at holding himself together long enough to tell the rest of the tale - "And so there are thirty-seven fratricides to my name, and only the first an accident, even if they were all mistakes."

Thirty six - six times six, a ritual number from a ritual time in which faith in the gods was something he still had some belief in. A mad, frantic prayer of death for something, someone who couldn't die.

Talcott is quiet for a long moment after that, processing what was said, giving Izunia a moment, comparing all of this information to the scraps that he and Ignis had managed to scrape together. Then contrasting that with what little information he had from the game developers. So much conflicting information and he had no idea what was true and what was the variation of another world. And if he and the others could go home if they died didn't that mean there was more truth to their worlds than the fiction they were fed, other people and characters that are deeper and more complex than the writers allowed for.

People like Izunia whose story was never written but is here and suffering all the same.

It takes Tal a moment to contemplate whether or not it's really proper but the redhead had said himself that he was retired, a king no longer. So he sets aside his coffee, the soft click of the cup against the table, a brief scrape as he stands from his chair. Two dragging, booted footsteps and then, Talcott just leans over and wraps his arms around Izunia's shoulders. Nothing he can say will even begin to help a hurt that deep but sometimes knowing you're not alone is enough.

He hates the fact that he can't feel it but that doesn't change the intent behind it.

"I'm sorry." What else could he possibly say to that.

There's an obvious reflex reaction to look at the sound, even if Izunia can't see it, but -

He makes a small surprised sound at the hug, but in spite of that, returns it almost immediately. "Thank you."

It might not be much, it might not change anything, but - Izunia is a person who wants to be heard, and that much has not changed over these handful of months. He slides his hands again from Talcott's shoulders after a moment, reclaiming the mug of coffee from where it briefly vanished into his Armiger to avoid spilling. His voice is calmer, after, the worst of it over for now.

"From there, the rest of the story is largely straightforward until the end. Ardyn was sealed in Angelgard, for some centuries, and during that time the Scourge all but disappeared from the world. I married, had a family, and established the kingdom as best I could. I still remember the first time I held Aurora, because it was like waking from a dream and realizing, at least a little, what a fool I had been. But by then, the switch was long since established, and I had little choice but to continue. I lived out the rest of my life and took my place, watching, waiting, as one of the spirits bound to the Ring."

"I'm not sure exactly when Ardyn escaped Angelgard, but by that point he was a broken, hateful thing, twisted as much by what I had unknowingly done as by the Scourge itself. Hence 'Ardyn Izunia' - a reminder of who had wronged him most. I'm not sure where he went after that; there's a few suspicious incidents that even I can recall, but he didn't return to Insomnia until it was as the Chancellor of Niflheim."

Talcott steps back but hovers uncertainly nearby, worried and unsure. Once Izunia summons his coffee again he lets himself step back but he's perched on the edge of his chair now, just as attentive to the redhead as he is to their surroundings.

"There's more solid evidence after he escaped Angelgard, if you knew what to look for. We found quite a bit, especially once Niflheim fell and we were able to more reliably get information from some of the more remote places there." Seeing things from the Niflheim side of things, the information and documentation on Chancellor Izunia's rise to prominence was more than a little disturbing.

"Ignis tried to hide some of the worst of it from me at first but..." He shrugs a little, takes a long drink from his mug. "Someone had to help him read through all of the documents he'd gathered, help him build a timeline, figure out a source or some way that we might be able to save Noctis. He... I don't think he wanted to but I was only travelling with him for a few months before he finally caved and told me... everything."

On one hand, he was 14. On the other hand? It was the first time someone had really trusted him with something that mattered.

"Mmm." Izunia sips at his coffee. "You know the outline of the story after that well enough, then, though knowing Ignis he still kept the details of a certain incident in Altissia from coming to light. If he didn't tell Noctis, and I know he did not, then I imagine he took that to his grave. We're alike in that way, really."

There's a surprising amount of warmth in his voice, but also no small measure of concern. After all, that same level of devotion did Izunia himself no favors, in the end. But he took those secrets to the grave and beyond, nonetheless, and only here has pulled back the night from them.

The phrasing there makes him so uncomfortable.

"Okay, we're not talking about anyone's graves if it's all the same to you." Because he knows Ignis survives but he still doesn't want to think about the inevitability of his death.

"You might be surprised how much I know. Ignis needed someone to theorize with, someone to read all of the documents we had to comb through looking for any useful scrap of information. It was just the two of us more often than not. For years." Not to mention the fact that he uh... watched an LP of Episode Ignis and Verse 2 in his rage at the news of a golden end.

"...Fair enough. You can't honestly be surprised I have a bit of a morbid bent if you're that familiar with the records, though." Who do you think made the banner a skull with wings, etc, etc.

"And while that's entirely true, I can't imagine him sharing his use of the Ring with much of anyone." But he'll just throw it right out there like it isn't that much a big deal. "He was granted its power for the sake of protecting Noctis from Ardyn directly - though I have my doubts that Noctis was truly the one at risk on Leviathan's altar, but Ignis can hardly be blamed for not having insight into the exhaustion of a two-thousand-year-old. The point is, that in that confrontation, rdyn made use of the power of kings rather than the Scourge - just briefly, just a single warp, but it was enough. Enough to throw everything I was so certain of out the window."

He sighs, leaning his chin against one hand. "The Ardyn that's here is... Human, after everything, by means of an extradimensional diversion far less pleasant than this. I won't discuss the details, they're his to tell, but we're... managing. Poorly, sometimes, but you can't fix two thousand years in a few months."

And this is officially falling into the realm of things Talcott cannot safely respond to at all without potentially giving something away. He'd never considered how difficult this would be if he encountered someone from his world that wasn't also a product of 6350.

Izunia might expect something from him, surprise, confusion, anything. But Talcott is carefully silent and so grateful for the fact that Izunia can't see him chewing at his cuticles right now to stop himself from speaking until the other man is done and he has something he can focus on that's not Ignis or spoilers or- This is so hard.

Fuck Square Enix.

"No I... imagine it will take a lot longer to repair that kind of damage." The mention of this extra dimensional adventure does pique his curiosity though. "He ended up in another world before this one." Less a question and more a confirmation.

"But you think this one is pleasant?" He sounds so very unsure. Not that things were so bad in the SCP version of Earth but... he still doesn't dare trust that anything will really be pleasant about any of the worlds that tend to drag people into them.

"Compared to what Ardyn experienced, absolutely." Again, it's his story to tell, but for a brief flash Izunia looks almost angry. "And far preferable to being stuck in the Ring for two thousand years, let me tell you. I suppose that's given me a bit of a biased perspective compared to most of the rest of the people here."

When your canon is shit, anything that isn't actively shitting on you is an improvement. "But aside from the current sensory situation of this Fissure, it hasn't been so bad at all. No one's killing each other, we've got most of our basic requirements of living taken care of, and, if I may be honest... A lot of the people here are hurt, perhaps not to the extent of Ardyn and I, but scarred in their souls regardless. And here, away from all that hurt, they're learning to breathe again."

No one's killing each other...

Basic requirements are covered...

No ritual murder and no desperate runs into daemon infested towns hoping against hope that someone missed a crate of potato chips or some cans of gighee ham.

scarred in their souls

That's what makes him flinch, turning away even though Izunia can't see him anyway. His hand falls to his waist, fingers feeling over the ridges of scars along his hip and abdomen. Scars that carried over despite the fact that they didn't need to be there. Nothing had happened to this body, but in his soul they were so much a part of what had happened to him.

His other hand came up, touching his brow for a moment, wondering if he dreamed too much of it, if the scars would start to come back, the familiar feeling of stone and ragged flesh. And though Izunia can't see him he'll no doubt hear the way his breathing picks up a little, shallow and frightened for a moment before he pushes the thought away. No, it won't change. That's not who he is, it's not. Damaged, maybe but not broken.

"That... that sounds good? That people are healing, can heal." Yes, definitely. Very good. For the best that these people be given a chance to recover from something terrible. "I don't know how you can do it. Without having something to do." Something to occupy mind and hands, to stop the nightmares from swallowing you even in the light of day.

It's obvious that he hears it, and his expression softens slightly, but Izunia is also smart enough - has learned enough - to not push. Let him talk and it will come out at its own pace.

"And I find plenty enough to keep me occupied - expeditions like this one, though usually not as frustrating, every five to six weeks - Oh," and here he looks more than a bit sheepish. "I should have set up a stabilizer here while we talked, they take about an hour to start to function..."

Sometimes, the Founder King is a bit of an idiot. He pulls a device from his Armiger, a bit of a spike with machinery on the end that bears some resemblance to a virus, and presses a series of buttons along the upper end by feel. "Think you could find somewhere a bit out of the way to stick this? Give it an hour and it should at least minimize our sensory difficulties, at least in this corner."

"Five to six weeks?" He sounds a little distressed at that. Missions spread out that far? He'd been with the Foundation for less than 3 weeks and they'd had things happening on a near daily basis. Never mind the constant danger back home. The idea of so much down time was absolutely appalling.

But, ah, Izunia is offering him something to do. He is quick to get to his feet, taking the device from the older man without question. "Of course, sir."

Immediate and habitual and he grimaces once he's said it. Perhaps Izunia won't notice? Or at least won't call him on it. He does step away to find a crevice out of the way to tuck the spike into, somewhere high enough that it won't accidentally get knocked into and Slams it hard into the stone, wedging it in as firmly as he can.

"Do I need to do anything else to it?"

Izunia's smile slips a little at the 'sir,' but otherwise he just tracks Talcott by the sound, shaking his head at the question. "No, that should do - it calibrates to the magic in the area automatically, but that's why it takes a bit of time."

He settles back in his chair and takes a bite of another slice of pear. "Anyway, as I was saying - for the most part, people spend their time outside the expeditions honing their skills, though I know some handful are content to simply let things be. I find that I tend to cook perhaps a bit obsessively, but there's more than enough at the Station who can't be trusted in the kitchen to make up for it."

Even though it might sound like he's complaining, his tone is relatively fond. He loves their kitchen disasters. "There's also the matter that exposure to the Fissures tends to cause the development of magical abilities over time - there's plenty of people who have had some issue or another learning to control that. If you see Prompto freezing everything in arm's reach, try not to be alarmed."

It will take Talcott some time to break years long habits of calling everyone 'sir' or 'ma'am' things that his grandfather had reminded him of near daily. Always be polite, always show respect. These people are nobility, son. Not like him.

"If you ever want an extra pair of hands in the kitchen I..." A slight shrug. "I've been helping Ignis for years so I know how to do most things."

And it was something to do, something to keep him occupied.

"Develop magic?" Oh that... that was dangerous. He thought back to that conversation with Red. He'd just wanted to protect people but then maybe she'd been right not to trust him. "That sounds fascinating and dangerous."

"And hilarious." Okay the idea of Prompto failing as hard with ice powers as Lance had with fire powers was just perfect.

"I'll gladly accept a hand whenever you feel up to it. Though I should warn you that I don't keep to a particular schedule the way many other people do - my way of handling the family's fatigue problems is a somewhat chronic napping habit."

Can't catch him, circadian rhythm.

"I've developed a few altered abilities myself - " He gestures at where the orb of light still hangs, at least not needing to see that to know where it is. " - but apparently it hits the younger people harder. Probably something about how your bodies are still developing."

Circadian rhythms tend to work best with light which is something Talcott hasn't had much of in his life.

"That's fine... I'm up most of the night, anyway." And most of the day. What is sleep?

"Or maybe we're more open to the idea of changing so it's easier for the magic to affect that change." Like how their gigai can change to reflect their souls. Like Floe deciding she wanted to be a boy. "Still that's really interesting."

"And.. the crystals?" Is the cool fidget toy magical or is Izunia magical and therefore can use the cool fidget toy?

"Oh - these, or the ones in the mine?" It is a crystal mine, after all. Izunia flicks his fingers and the circling crystals grow wide, bobbing up and down in an alternating pattern as they continue their circuit. "This is just something to do with my hands - bit of a toy I came across, but they help to keep me grounded. Anything to touch does - it seems to be something that human minds need at my age, because Ardyn fidgets nearly as much now."

If anything could leave scars in one's soul, after all, the Starscourge surely qualifies, even beyond everything else. The crystals glitter in the light before shifting to a figure-eight pattern.

"As for the ones in the mine, they seem to be this world's version of elemancy deposits, though there's a wider variety of energies represented. I've learned to make use of a few of them in a similar way, in fact."

Talcott watches the motions, how gestures feed into what the crystals do, utterly fascinated. "It is really cool for just a toy."

"It is, perhaps, less age and more experience. There are studies in some worlds about certain imbalances that are better focused with the ability to play with something but sensory objects also sometimes help with people who have experienced trauma." And it sounds like he's paraphrasing something out of a book, a little bit distant and detached. Why he'd be researching coping mechanisms is not something he's going to freely elaborate on though.

He glances over Izunia's shoulder, back into the mine proper, taking a few curious steps. But wandering off, getting distracted by new mysteries to unravel isn't going to help anyone. So he circles back around to the table, to sit back down and sip at his coffee. "It must be fascinating for you, at your age, to have new elements and magics to work with."

Not like he thinks it'd be cool to be able to use magic and is jealous or anything. He's totally not leaning on this table with his chin in his hands staring wistfully at Izunia because gods dammit why couldn't he be royalty? Or at least have earned his way into the Glaives.

It's okay, Izunia can guess without further detail that it's not something to like at. "Especially when those traumas often have a general theme of helplessness from a lack of body, it's true."

Another small gesture snaps the figure eight into a spindle shape, the ten crystals taking a one-four-four-one arrangement with the clear at one end and the black at the other.

"Anything new is a delight when I encounter it, not just this sort of thing. It's one of the reasons I'm glad to be here."

Talcott laughs at that, something dark and a little distressed.

"Two thousand years I-" He swallows hard, still watching the play of the crystals, they really are mesmerizing.

"How could you bear it?" It had only taken him three weeks to completely lose it. To try to end that strange half life they'd been trapped in. "I don't know how you're..." still sane enough to hold a conversation? Hardly the polite thing to say to the Founder King.

Gods he'd barely been able to make sense of anything when Sol turned on them, certainly not to make idle conversation like this.

"Coherent, functional on a day-to-day basis, capable of passing for sound mind?" Izunia doesn't beat around the bush; he's also not going to make a claim of full sanity any time soon. That ship sailed off centuries ago.

"Sometimes I can't, and it pulls me under. But when that happens... 'There are people who need me.' 'There are people who love me.' 'The worst is already over.' Those are the ropes that I built to pull myself up with. That," and in spite of being sightless, the wink he throws in Talcott's direction is perfectly aimed. "And a healthy dose of spite. I refuse to let what the Draconian did to my life control my life any more than it already has - I refuse to let that control my future, when so many other, better possibilities exist."

He smiles, faintly, a little ruefully. "Anti-depressants help, too."

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