Aftermath (E6T1)

[MacThorstenson he/him]

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This is where you can post your characters reactions to the Forgery ending. Chronologically this thread takes place right after the events of The Forgery Breaks, the next day or so. 

 

Edited November 1, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[+Sorana she/her]

The sky was already turning grey above her, clouds moving around quickly over the streets of Oasis City. Althea walked through the streets at a fast pace, her brown dyed hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her thoughts still lingering at her office. Her face was calm, her annoyance and ire a tight knot in her chest, invisible to the citizens around her. It was always the same, and she doubted that it would change anytime soon. People trying to get the better of each other, questioning her plans, aiming to get more and more ressources. She spent weeks to ensure everything was allocated evenly, but no, nobody could ever get enough. Gritting her teeth slightly she composed another message to Zokora, so that the woman could take over. She didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do, so many other things waited for her. She had no time for the bickering of some department heads.

Turning around a corner she pulled her key out of her bag and walked up to the front door of the house. It was a nice place, with a garden, two stories and a beautiful blue door waiting to be opened. Placing a hand on the silver door knob Althea paused, stared at the blue door. A blue door. It didn’t fit the image in her head, their door had been - another pause, her thoughts slowing down as she finally focused on the situation. Lifting her gaze up from her communication device she really looked at the house for the first time. It felt familiar, and at the same time everything was wrong. The curtains were green, not yellow, the door blue, there was a small lake in the garden and the roof was of a dark red. Slowly she took a step back, key forgotten in her hand and looked it all over again, before she hurried towards the door and placed a shaking hand on its wood. It was there, it was real. It felt the same way that it looked. “Can I help you?” a young voice asked behind her and she whirled around, cursing herself for letting her attention slip. Max had repeated it often enough. Always keep track of what's going on around you. Always. She swallowed, hiding her surprise behind a nondescript smile and looked at the young boy who stood in the garden, eyeing her curiously. “Are you lost?” he inquired and she looked back at the house and then towards him. The boy was wrong. His hair colour, his voice, the way he held himself. And he was too young. Too young? “No, thank you.” she replied coolly and finally took a step back from the door. Too young? She pushed the thought away, straightened her back and gave him a curt nod. “I’ll be on my way.”

Without another word she walked past him, her steps quick, but not so fast that it would seem as if she was fleeing the place. Why had she even walked to that house? It wasn’t as if she had a place in Oasis City. With a sigh she touched her head, gently reached out to Max to make sure that he was still there. Then she forced herself to take a deep calm breath and continued to walk back to the office building, if only to find a calm place where she could try and gather her thoughts. It was time to consider the facts at hand.  She had walked to the home of strangers and startled their son. She had tried to open the door using a key that had no chance of fitting the lock. And the boy, the boy - her breath caught in her throat as she realized why the boy was too young. Because her own son was older, a teenager already, shooting towards the sky faster than she could buy him clothes. Relief flooded her and she felt her posture relax a little, careful to keep her expression calm and neutral. There could always be someone around who recognized her, although her darker hair made that unlikely.

She was already opening the door to her office when another realization hit her. She didn’t have a son. Nor did she have a daughter. With a gasp she threw the door open, hurried inside and closed it again, locking it firmly against the world. It was happening again. Her mind was blurring, her thoughts tumbling and she hugged herself, waited for the pain, for the next person to force themselves into her thoughts to trick her, to blind her to play games with her thoughts and feelings. It took her several shaking breaths to realize that nothing happened, that she had the memory of having children while knowing that she never had them. That she remembered meeting Max as a teenager, while she knew, knew with every inch of her heart that it had been only a few years ago. It was as if she was standing in two places at the same time and yet, when she closed her eyes, when she focused, she knew that one set of memories was all wrong. A whimper escaped her throat while she stared at the family she always wanted to have at the long years together that blurred more and more even while she was looking at them, while she tried to keep them, to save them.

The world had changed, something had changed it all. Slowly she uncurled, forced herself to loosen her grip around herself. She had had children. There was a place where she had children. Loosing them, loosing their names, the way they had laughed, their first steps - she lifted a hand for Brashen and looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “What happened?” she whispered and could only watch while he shook his head. “Something changed it all.” he replied in a cold voice and she used the voice to calm herself. Emotions. She had to sort all of this. But she wouldn’t be able to do so while she was shaking from emotions. “Someone soulcast the whole world.” she gave a curt nod at his words. “Although it was something else, but the principle seems to be the same in some way. They changed it.” And in the end there were only a handful of beings around who could do this. And they had taken her children. Despair rolled up in her throat and she gulped it down, sat down at her desk to write down orders. She needed to know if there had been some damage to the guild, needed to assess the new situation. Holding the pen in her hand she looked at it for a while and then placed it back down again, no words coming to her mind. She knew what to do and why to do it, but it felt stale. They had taken her children.

Althea waited for fury, waited for anger, but none came. It hadn’t been directed at her. She was nothing but a bee in this world, nothing but a tiny thing whose life wasn’t even noticed. The thought tasted bitter and she had to force herself to look down at her hand, at the ring she had been given by Laonin. He had been a master of his craft, all sixteen metals woven together. And all of that work only to show his appreciation, to congratulate her and Max. She mattered. Not to every being in this world, but who did that. Nobody could ever matter to everybody. A smile touched her lips when she remembered their wedding, how many had come to attend the short ceremony. It had been beautiful. There had been so much blood and death, but there had been this beautiful moment, there had been thousands of beautiful moments and now that she took a break she was able to remember them all. When she and Tena had gone out to eat, sitting on the grass, ignoring all obligations. When she and Max had traveled to see other places. When she had laughed at the laboratory with her fellow coworkers. The feeling of victory after Plasma Core had been defeated. The pride she felt at the courage of their underlings. The laughter of her daughter, the way she danced around in their living room when she was happy. Althea bit down on her lip and got up, leaving the orders and everything behind. She stood in front of the window and looked at herself, at her dyed hair, at the calm face. A mask, she was always wearing a mask. Max had teased her about it, had reminded her to take it off at home, to show him how she felt. He had always encouraged her, never taken a step back from the ugliness that waited behind the calm face and the polite smile.  Althea lifted a hand and touched the strands, suddenly remembering a younger version of herself standing in front of a mirror. It had been a long, hard day and she had been frightened to the bone, had wanted nothing but to hide behind normal hair and a set of contact lenses. And yet, she hadn’t done it. Because she hadn’t been alone. Max had tried to look behind all masks to see the frightened girl she had been. He had never turned away, always encouraging to show who she was, to stop pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Not that it had ever happened. Just like her children, the girl that had trained in the laboratories had never met Max. And yet his words lingered, combined themselves with another conversation with Zokora, one where they had talked about daily life, about the future. About possible journeys they could embark upon. And suddenly she was sick of it all. Sick of the masks, of the responsibility, of the way people stared at her with fear in their eyes. She never had wanted to end up in such a position. It had been an accident when one leader left and somehow she filled a vacuum. Althea knew that she had done well, that she was good in this job, but it wasn’t who she wanted to be. It was a role she fulfilled, but was an act, in the end it was nothing but an act.

Slowly she removed her glasses and inhaled a little bit of stormlight, changing her hair back to its normal white color, looking at herself. The world had changed. Maybe it was time for her to change as well. Turning around she sat down at her desk again and started to write. No orders this time. No request for information, she wrote a letter. A letter to an old friend.

My dear friend Tena, there is something I would like to ask of you, and I want you to know that I don’t do this lightly, nor without a pinch of sadness in my heart. The world changed and I know that I, no that we need to change, too. There have been too many disruptions over the course of the last years, too many changes in leadership, too often we split. It’s time that we start to focus again, that we decide which way to go and stop to embark halfheartedly on this journey and then the next. What I’m trying to write is the following. I will step down as part of the Triarchy. I need to start another journey and I can’t do that while I try to run a guild, partially led by insane people. Just remember the Epic that started to slaughter our citizens and you know what I mean. I would like to ask, if you would be willing to take over, to start the reforms we need. To provide the guild with a path to follow. I know that we will loose some members, probably whole departments depending on their leaders, maybe some possessions, too, but that is the price we have to pay. We need some stability, a road we can follow with all of our hearts and souls and not the chaos we had. If you want me to, I will stay by your side to support you, to help you gain the trust of those you don’t know yet, but then you already know more or less everybody. But nonetheless - if you need help, I’ll be there. We can meet in person, if you would like to talk about all of this, or if you have some ideas you would like to bounce back and forth. Please know, that I trust you, trust you with the lives under my command, trust you with our knowledge and ressources. I know that it’s no light burden to carry and if you don’t want to - I can understand.

Your friend Althea

She placed her pen gently on the table and stood up, carefully pushing her stool back. For the first time in what felt like years she was at peace. With herself, with her responsibility. It had been too much, it had pressed her down so much that she only now realized what it felt like to be able to breathe anymore. Brashen tilted his head to the side and looked at her curiously. “I wondered when you would finally do that.” he told her and she grimaced at him openly. As if he’d known where her journey would lead her. But then, he most likely had. Laughing quietly she looked down at her hand again, turning serious. “I was a mother.” she told him “I lead a guild.” Turning back towards the window she looked at herself standing in the barely lit office. “Now I am neither of those.” A sad smile touched her lips and she touched her white hair again. “It's a possibility. To reclaim, to find out what I really lost. And to find a place where I belong.” Lowering her gaze towards him she smiled again, this time more calmly, at peace. “I will be myself, Brashen, and it will be enough.” “It will.” he replied and she knew that this was right, that this was the right way to go. The words wrapped themselves around her and Branshen, forming a full circle. Smiling more widely she tried to recall the faces of the boy and the girl, relieved to find that she could picture them as easily as she could picture Max. “Let’s go.” she told her spren and grabbed her bag. “It’s time to start a new journey. We’ve got a changed world to explore.” And this time there would be no masks. This time there would only be her friends, her family and herself. And it would be enough.

[EmulatonStromenkiin he/him]

Balance the Realizer - Mac's Boardinghouse

In his room at the boardinghouse, Balance woke. He felt a significant drop in energy, and he was overtaken by a blinding vision of the lines. He saw the lines twist harder and harder, and as he looked closer, saw that they were actually two. A core line, the one that was twisting, and an outer line, that restrained and confined the core one. The outer line was frayed, faint. With a building rush or power, the core line burned bright. It burned away the last of the outer line, and Balance almost felt the burn as the second line faded. Then, there was pain. Burning from the tip of his fingers down to his wrist. The burning faded, replaced by a glimpse into what he inherently knew was the spiritual realm. He saw a future, an entity that was coming, and he was terrified. He let out an inhuman, metallic screech. His mind overloaded with pain, eating away his memory of the glimpse. He rasped out two final words before collapsing into a pain-drunken stupor.

“Render comes!”

[NerdyAarakocra They/Them]

~~KanDraa - The Alleys~~

KanDraa was free.

It had been countless hours of experimentation, derision, and ceaseless torment. Kan had thought that it would never end.
But then... something changed. Kan could feel the fabric of the world shift, rearranging into unframilliar patterns. The wing that Kan was in simply... wasn't. Kan had escaped as the researchers were still reeling from the shock.

Now Kan wandered in the Alleys, desperately trying to find someplace safe to stay for a while.

Kan burned bronze, and got back nothing. Either they had lost their tail, or the Dark Alley had a smoker. Probably the latter.

Kan broke into a sprint.

[+Sorana she/her]

Temeria - Mac's Boardinghouse

Temeria streched her back and turned around to set a tray of freshly cleaned glasses aside. Humming quietly to herself she reached for the next ones, enjoyed the calm before another busy evening. She liked it, when the tavern was full of people, the guest rooms upstairs occupied. It was nice to know, that this place was being used just the way it had been intended to.  Her eyes fell on the glass she held in her hand and she paused, wondered where this type had come from. It was a bit longer than her usual ones and that made storing a pain. With a frown she put it aside and reached for another one, grimacing slightly when she saw that it looked the same.

Sighing she placed it down next to the other one and took the next one in her hand. The same shape, although she wasn't sure anymore why it had disturbed her in the first place. It was just the same as every one she owned. Temeria started humming again, ignored the slightly uneasy feeling in her gut. It was time to help ready the boarding house for its next guests.

When she walked up the stairs to her office, the house was quiet, the few guests who were around were in their rooms. She had some time left until she would have to head down again, maybe she could read a little. She was still trying to understand the events Mac had mentioned and his library proofed a good starting point to inform herself a little, although she usually couldn't bring herself to read more than a couple of pages. She wasn't really the reading type, the task alone exhausted her easily. Termeria knew that she could simply ask her sister, but in the end she never really found the courage to do so. It was easier to run this place, ensure nobody started a fistfight late at night and make certain her guests were safe.

It was what she had done ever since she had taken over the boarding house from the kind man - her thoughts seemed to freeze for a moment. The kind man. Mac. She had taken over the place from Mac. Her fingers brushed over the coin he had given her and she hesitated again. The gesture was normal, familiar, and yet she knew that she hadn't done it in a long time.

Slowly she sat down on a comfortable chair and left the book where it was on a small table. Something was odd about the day. It was as if, she didn't even have the words for it. As if someone had lifted a dark fabric and showed a different view underneath. Groaning she leaned forward and placed her head in her hands, tried to find out what it was that felt wrong. It took her a long while, but then she finally had the feeling that she might have found the reason. It was as if she wasn't certain anymore if she really had followed someone down into an old crypt or not. It felt like a dream, like the memory of a night spent with too much alcohol and too less sleep. Disturbed she frowned and gritt her teeth. After trying for another moment to remember she gave up, left the confusion alone. It would sort itself. Or it wouldn't. No matter what, all her memories agreed on her taking over this place. And so she'd better get up and see if her guests and staff were alright or not. Everything else could wait for now. And maybe, hopefully, one of them knew what was going on.

[MacThorstenson he/him]

~An Incinerator~

Mac breathed a sigh of relief as he gripped a bronze mind in his hand and had all the dirt and sweat burnt off of him. He was by no means a germaphobe, but it had been months since he last bathed. A haircut, shave, and trip to the incinerator were the first order of business. Then, he needed to meet with Lita.

~Mac's Lita's The office belonging to whoever currently runs the DoCI.~

Mac briefly entered the office to leave a note for Lita detailing directions to one of the nicer rooftop gardens in the Dominion, and instructions to meet him there at her earliest convenience. 

~Rooftop Garden, the Dominion~

There, he summoned a small table, and a number of croissants for snacks during the meeting. He waited, looking out over the sprawling, and mostly intact, city. 

@ZincAboutIt

Edited November 3, 2022 by MacThorstenson
Every time I reread this I find something else wrong.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

~Lita; Rooftop Garden, the Dominion~

"May I help you, ma'am?"

The well-dressed host at the front of the rooftop garden had a nervous smile, but he was pulling through it with trained professionalism. It had been about twenty-four hours since the world ended, then was put back in its usual place. Lita idly wondered if this man had been something else in the Forgery, or if he was simply always a host at a rooftop garden, no matter what. She gave him her most charming smile, reaching out and placing a generous number of chrysts on the host stand.

"I'm meeting someone, but thank you. I'll find my own way."

The man nodded, his smile dipping as she left but not entirely fading as he counted the money. 

Lita envied him; how lovely it would be to find delight in a simple handful of currency. She walked through the garden, admiring the cultivated plants and the sprawling view of the city as she sought out her quarry. A bath and a few vials of Pewter and Tin had set her largely to rights after the harrowing events of the previous night. Physically, at least. Lita looked neat as a pin in her blue pencil dress, hair braided tidily over one shoulder, shoes clicking on the rooftop stones. Whether or not she felt as though one sharp look would shatter her to pieces was immaterial. She had things to do. The world had ended. Long live the world.

Mac was situated in a far corner, near the balcony, on one side of a lovely spread of croissants. Lita reached her seat and gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes. 

"Good afternoon, Mac," she said, taking her seat. "You look well."

@MacThorstenson

[18th Shard he/him]

Emily Azizi - The Alleycity

Emily rubbed her eyes as she sat on the couch, setting a bowl of ramen and some peppermint tea on the coffee table beside her. Today had been such a busy day at work. So many patients with suddenly manifesting abilities, injuries, family members. The paperwork alone would keep the hospital busy for months. A thunderstorm - no, the Alleystorm - raged outside. Emily was having trouble combining her memories of both worlds. The Post had explained it was a Forgery on massive scale, but both felt equally real to Emily. The world couldn't seem to make up its mind on when things would go back to normal or what normal even was - some people at the hospital hadn't changed at all, even though they had had very different lives in the Forgery. Emily hadn't noticed nearly any changes in her own life, except for her fridge being suddenly empty. She'd had to go shopping when she'd gotten home. Now she could finally relax. She finished off her quick meal alone in the quiet apartment, showered, and, while her hair was drying, she checked the house for any changes. The spare room still had a bunch of boxes she hadn't unpacked - stuff she'd left at home when in college and just hadn't used since coming to the Alleycity. The kitchen was fine, now that she'd restocked the fridge - different brand of dish soap, but nothing major had changed. As she checked the TV, she found that apparently she had about half the subscriptions she'd had in the Forgery, and a couple she'd had before. Thinking back on it, one of her favorite shows from during the Forgery, Dark Paths, had used the Alleys as a secret evil lair for the villain, an anarchist from Threnody. What were they going to do now that the Alleys were fairly common knowledge? She did not envy the writers who now had to figure out how to retcon that in. Emily got into bed, plugged her mobile in and set an alarm for five in the morning so she could be at the hospital by six. She pulled the brown blankets on the bed up and adjusted her pillow. She drifted off to the sound of the rain on the window. 

Late that night, Emily was woken up by a gentle nudge on her arm. A six-year-old in a big blue shirt and shorts was shaking her awake. "Mom, can I sleep with you tonight? The thunder's kind of loud and I can't sleep." 

"Sure, sweetie." Emily scooted over to make room for Jarah on her bed, pulling the blue quilt back to let her daughter onto the bed. The little girl climbed up, snuggling in against Emily and was soon asleep. Emily was almost back asleep when she remembered something, sitting up with a jerk. Jarah moved in her sleep, chilled by the sudden movement of the blanket. Jarah's got school in the morning! How am I supposed to get her there without missing work?! Emily picked up her phone, opening her schedule. Drop Jarah off at 7am. Work at 8 am, her schedule read. What? Emily stared for a moment. But I work at six. Emily got up from bed, readjusting the blanket around Jarah, and walked around the apartment again. The kitchen and bathroom were the same; the living room looked identical; the spare room - wait, this was Jarah's room. Emily kept her boxes in a storage unit across town. Jarah's room was painted a bright green, a twin bed in the corner and a backpack on the floor. How did I get Jarah to school yesterday around work? Emily thought. I...I must have had... Emily checked her schedule again in confusion. Yesterday... Work at 6am. No mention of Jarah's school. In fact, there wasn't any mention of Jarah at all the past week. Then a few of her memories clicked. Yesterday was the Forgery. Yesterday I didn't even have Jarah. When I went to bed, I didn't have Jarah! Emily's last specific memory of Jarah was - she strained to remember. Last month? A couple months ago? If Jarah hadn't been in the Forgery, where had she been? How had Emily missed a whole month of her daughter's life? What did Jarah remember from that time? So many questions, so little answers. Emily walked back to her bedroom, her mind buzzing with questions. She couldn;t remember Jarah's teacher's name, but she could remember her favorite food. Her birthday was the 5th of - was it Scholus? What kind of mother couldn't remember her daughter's birthday? Her best friend was a girl named Alli. What time does she get out of school? Emily thought. Her phone schedule said three, but Emily could have sworn it was 3:30. Emily laid down and tried to get some sleep. 

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac, rooftop garden.

"Good afternoon, Mac," Lita said, taking her seat. "You look well."

Mac smiled, his mouth full of croissant as he gestured for her to take a seat. He placed his plate down on the table and hurriedly swallowed before responding, "Thank you! You look wonderful as well!" He sat quietly for a moment, basking in the familiar towers of the Dominion. 

Time had a way of making things work out. It would be painful in the short term, but it always was. Your expectations could only be dashed and subverted so many times before you just stopped expecting things. He had been battered and bruised, but he survived. Nothing was taken from him. The stranger, his role model, No. He stopped himself, No need to think about how he had gone out. Better to remember him as the brilliant scientist then a rabid, selfish traitor. 

That said, time was something he had in abundance, which wasn't true for everyone. "Sorry, got distracted." He started with a small smile, "I know you probably don't have all day, so if you want to get right to business, we can."

@ZincAboutIt

Edited November 4, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

 "I know you probably don't have all day, so if you want to get right to business, we can."

Mac seemed... oddly cheerful. Too lighthearted for having witnessed and participated in what Lita knew, for a fact, to be something very nearly beyond the scope of description. He had known the Stranger for much longer than Lita, had been his colleague. Possibly looked up to him, judging from some of the glances Lita recalled him stealing. The very slight pain of betrayal and disappointment pinched the corners of his eyes. Well, Lita was hardly in a place to demand honesty in that regard. She was certainly not wearing her heart on her sleeve today.

She reached to the tray in the center of the table and pulled a croissant off the platter and onto a small plate, tearing off a bite-sized piece but not placing it into her mouth.

"While I don't have any immediate plans for the day, it does seem prudent to get down to business, such as it is. I imagine this is in regards to the Department?"

@MacThorstenson

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac, Rooftop Garden

"While I don't have any immediate plans for the day, it does seem prudent to get down to business, such as it is. I imagine this is in regards to the Department?"

"Indeed it does. I'm stepping down from my position as head of the department," He added hurriedly, "if you want the position." He sat back, gauging her reaction. If she didn't want it, he didn't have to abdicate. The salary and benefits he had accumulated in that position were nice, and there was a certain appeal to the routine of a comfortable position. Yet he was a Department Head, feared across the universe for their ingenuity and power, and as things went he considered himself lacking. He needed new things to push him forward then merely existing. 

@ZincAboutIt

Edited November 4, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

~Lita; Rooftop Garden, the Dominion~

"I'm stepping down from my position as head of the department," He added hurriedly, "if you want the position."

Mac leaned back, intent to watch her. Lita, for her part, allowed herself to show some of the surprise she felt. It seemed foolish to completely conceal her emotion in front of him - what did she have to gain from it, after all? Yet old habits died hard, so true shock retreated in favor of a tilted head and two lifted brows. More of a reaction than most could get out of her.

"Well, yes, I do want it." The admission felt... strange to say. In the Forgery, the Stranger had simply set her up in the position, given it to her. But she remembered that version of her life, even if it was false. She remembered earning her place, all of the careful lessons and attention that Mac had given her. Lessons she never actually received. But ones that she recalled nonetheless. And she had been good at the job - quite good. The DoCI had run smoothly for as long as she'd held it, end of the world notwithstanding. And now that she'd had a chance to try it out, Lita did not want to give it up. She'd expected much more of a fight over it, to be honest. The idea of Mac simply ceding control to her was disorienting to say the least.

"Are you seeking to go in another direction? R&D does need a new Head, I suppose..."

@MacThorstenson

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac, Rooftop Garden

"Well, yes, I do want it." Mac watched as her eyebrows raised, hinting at the surprise that must lay beneath. "Are you seeking to go in another direction? R&D does need a new Head, I suppose..."

Mac shook his head, "No, the R&D department head will likely have a certain disrepute in the coming years. I don't want to tie my reputation for that. Frankly, I just don't like spying. I was into it for the lifestyle, not the work. Voidus was throwing ridiculous amounts of money at the department and I took advantage of it. Now that I've squirrelled away enough chrysts in various off world accounts, however, I can take the pay cut moving somewhere else."

"But yes, I'm trying to find something else to do with my time besides lounge on yachts. I'm thinking about forming, or rather reforming a Department of Alleymatics." 

A brief frown crossed his face as he considered what had happened to the last one, but he brushed it aside and continued. "The previous department is almost certainly gone and dusted, so I figured I could step in."

@ZincAboutIt

Edited November 4, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

~Lita; Rooftop Garden, the Dominion~

A wry smile twisted Lita's lips when Mac mentioned getting into spying "for the lifestyle." Most of her life spent spying was hardly as glamorous as it was these days - and even these days there was a fair bit of grit in the glitter, so to speak. She let the smile turn more genuine as Mac mentioned his yachts. Mac was generally known for his self-control and restraint these days, but yachts and fine suits seemed to be glaring weak points. Lita could empathize. Both were quite lovely.

"I'm glad you have new ambitions already," Lita said, watching Mac's expression change at the mention of the 'previous department.' She'd have to go back through records on the old Alleymatics division, then. Definitely something worth knowing. "Any department would be lucky to have you at the helm. And I'm glad you managed to take advantage of dramatic overbudgeting for your own gain. If one can get away with such things, one rather ought to, I should think."

That wasn't entirely true in Lita's opinion, but it was close enough. Not everyone was able to acquire things in the way she could, after all. You used the gifts you were given.

"Would you prefer your old office returned to you, then? I'm certain I can get another made to specifications."

@MacThorstenson

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac, Rooftop Garden

Mac, thought briefly about her offer, then shook his head. "No, as much as I love that old place, I think having one closer to my department might be a bit more useful. Besides," He coughed gently, "from what I've heard you've made yourself quite at home there."

With that he began folding the napkin, and stood up to leave. "I have to be heading out, there's a yacht show at the alley harbor happening in a couple days and I need to get the fleet ready."

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

~Lita; Rooftop Garden, the Dominion~

 "No, as much as I love that old place, I think having one closer to my department might be a bit more useful. Besides," He coughed gently, "from what I've heard you've made yourself quite at home there."

Lita tried to avoid giving him an incredulous look. 'From what he'd heard.' Within twenty-four hours of returning after a world-changing event? This was the gossip floating around the Alleys?

Well, perhaps Lita shouldn't be surprised. People often didn't want to talk about the important things after a devastating trauma; office gossip was far safer. She nodded to Mac as he stood, giving him a small, but genuine, smile.

"Well then, do not let me detain you further. And for what it's worth, Mac, it is good to see you again."

She didn't think about the warm regard between them in the Forgery, or the last drink they had shared together before he left the Department in her hands - her glass filled with sparkling wine, and his sparkling cider. Lita did not think about the singular fond embrace he had given her before he walked out the office door and into, as he had said, "his golden years." She didn't think about that, because it wasn't real. It had never happened. It was all a false memory. So there was no point in grieving it.

Instead she finally put the piece of croissant into her mouth and let it dissolve on her tongue. Perfect. At least some things in this life were constant. Mac left, and Lita looked out over the slender spires of the Dominion, feeling a brisk wind in her hair. It felt like the world itself was sighing, though whether in sorrow or relief, even a tineye could not tell.

@MacThorstenson

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac, the Rooftop Garden.

"Well then, do not let me detain you further. And for what it's worth, Mac, it is good to see you again."

He smiles briefly at the compliment. "Thank you," he replied, taking one last view of the city before looking down at Lita again, "It's good to be back, and I'm glad you're still hanging around here. I wasn't joking earlier when I said that you were the most qualified person to run the department." With that, he picked up his overcoat, draped it over his arm, and walked to the doorway, disappearing suddenly as he stepped over the threshold. 

Edited November 6, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[Ashbringer he/him]

Cassandra Adama, the Metallurgic Emporium

Cassie opened her eyes.

She wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected to see. The thoughts of the Beyond had never really occurred to her, not even in her own preparations. Those had been for the living more than her. At least she had used that excuse. But no, she just saw the ceiling of her room.

Her room!

Cassandra shot up off her bed, and the world spun like mad, wood and metal and leftover now-dun gems swimming across her vision. She stopped, feeling a strange sense of... not nausea, but something similar. Eventually the room slowed down, stopped. She started to move again, and the walls shifted a bit, but it was enough to navigate, at least to the mirror. Get a good look at her new life.

The first thing that caught her eyes were the two large gemstones hanging from her cheekbones, gently swaying from their sudden motion. Why they caught her eyes was because Cassie realized those were now her eyes. At least focal points for them. Her original eyes were left as cold spheres of metal, unguided. Right. Even alive she had work to do. 

She paused. Part of her wanted to slam open the door, find NullBlade, tell him everything. Even if she wasn't done, wasn't complete, she was alive. And that had to mean something. She could help him now. She'd beaten the Soulcaster's game. She could... she could. But she also needed to fix her eyes. And probably several other things. She hadn't heard anything since she'd woken up, that she could tell.

It was easier than expected to make a decision. Cassie had no indication of what time it was, how long she'd been dead. She had been, it was simply the truth of it. She was dead, but better. But however long it had been, it could be a bit longer.

Reconnecting everything else was also easier. Still time intensive, but not worrying about her Soulcaster made separating the metal of her flesh to embed the crystal nerves that much neater. A small series of dissolutions and her eyes now properly stayed in their sockets, another set of crystals and hearing returned to the world. Sealing the wounds was also easier, just a small Soulcasting. A small part of her, the part from before, was disturbed by how easy it was for her to cut into the metal that used to be muscle, to remove her former eyes and replace them with better ones.

A small part.

But then, it was done. And Cassandra was alive again.

[EmulatonStromenkiin he/him]

Balance walked a few paces behind Demaren as they made their way through the streets filled with revelers and mourners. He hadn’t realized how many people had been affected by the Forgery, though he should have. He had seen the lines binding the souls of everyone and everything, but he hadn’t thought. He had not comprehended the far-reaching effects the removal of the Forgery would have, but he did now.

“Balance,” Demaren said, startling him out of his thoughts. “I have some questions>”

Balance thought for a moment before responding. “I will answer a question for a question, and I hope you will be as truthful as I have to be.”

Demaren nodded in agreement, still stumping along with his one foot and his cane. “What is your real name?” he asked.

Balance blinked, surprised by this question. “My birth name was Stateran. The english translation is Balance, and I have been using the translation almost since I began existing on Reckoners-Earth. I find that I prefer it.”

Demaren nodded thoughtfully at this, and began to ask another question, but Balance beat him to the punch.

“How did you know that some people were unmade by the Forgery?” he asked.

Demaren grimaced. “My contact with an organization I do deals with for fabrial gems vanished the day the Forgery broke, and no-one can remember him existing outside of the Forgery. There are also several other stories I have heard from credible sources, but that is the main reason. How do your powers work?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Balance replied slowly. “The lines I can manifest are lines of force, or the exact intersections between planes of force, depending on what I’m making. As I put more energy into my manifestation, it becomes more real, until you are left with an object that is as real as anything else, and I do not have to sustain it. Why do you distrust powerful people?

Demaren’s face twisted into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “The Epics proved to me that it is extremely dangerous for individuals to have a great deal of power. Even the state of things before the Epics was proving that, with many corrupt politicians. Many people with power seem to have trouble remembering that they also have responsibilities.” Demaren gave Balance an appraising look. “You seem to be better than what I first thought of you.”

Before Balance could react to this backhanded compliment, Demaren continued.

“And here we are.” Demaren stopped in front of a building with a sign hanging above the entrance that said “The Metallurgic Emporium”.

@Ashbringer

Quote

Not sure how you want to handle this.