lucetilogs | Post-Event Blues

Entry tags:

Post-Event Blues

Who: Everybody, everybody!
What: The battle is won. Now what?
When: The eleventh, twelfth, and onward
Where: Luceti
Summary: With Zompano dead and the cultists routed, Luceti is restored. Kind of.
Rating: F for Feels

On the eleventh, things were slowly breaking down. Memories of their true lives were breaking through. The village, scarred by the battle with the cultists, began to rebuild itself. Community buildings that had vanished were returned to their rightful places. The battle dome was uncovered from the earth that had covered it. Hundreds and hundreds of fake homes slowly faded away. Paved roads gave way to trees and grass. It was an incredible sight for anyone who was willing to sit aroun and watch it happen.

Things wouldn't be easy for the villagers, though. The memories perpetuated by the last ten days would not be easily removed. The feelings and hatreds it had created would take time to conquer and remove. Perhaps, in a way, that was Zompano's nastiest trick of all. The village itself may heal from his invasion, but it would take far more than a few Shifts to fix the people left behind.

Towards the end of the day, their wings returned. Much like some of the buildings, they seemed to just reappear, as if they had never been gone. Their barcodes became visible again as a singular reminder that they were, ultimately, just the property of another entity who as a whole were not much better than Count Zompano.

By the twelfth, the village looked as though nothing had ever happened. Sure, the contents of buildings might have been messed up or destroyed during the battles, but things were otherwise as they were supposed to be. The night before, people would have had to find their old beds to go sleep in, as they no longer possessed the old ones granted to them in another life.

The village was peaceful.

Modly Note: That wraps up the event. As noted in the prose above, you have the option to play up the after effects of the event more than in other ones. While it won't have the same impact universally, the Shift was constructed in such a way that people may have difficulty shaking off the emotions they developed during the event. In effect, it was a cruel send off to Luceti so they would have to deal with the loathing and hatred that came with the less desirable parts of it. Of course, that means the feelings of familial bonds will also persist for awhile as well. It's up to you, as players, to decide how much or little to play with it!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

['Who am I? What am I?']

['You're the girl who's getting out of this tower!']

[It's loud, and she can't run fast enough as support beams, pipes, and grating fall down around her. He's tearing it all apart, frantic to put her back where she's supposed to be, ripping open the elevator shaft, there are bullets and sparks--]

[Up the stairs and she still can't run fast enough. There's flight after flight, and she's running out of breath.]

Why... ...going up...? There's nowhere... ...after that...!

[She starts to fret under the covers. Booker opens the door, he can barely swing it wide enough for her to get out due to the windspeed. It's a dead end--]

Oh God...!

[The entire tower shudders, and she's in the air. Falling, she can't reach his hand--]

[Elizabeth bolts up, her knuckles white as she clutches the blanket to her chest. That wasn't a dream, that was where she'd met Booker. After living in years of captivity her first minutes of breathing fresh air had been spent screaming as she'd fallen off of Monument Island.]

[Hearing her make him choke slightly. He remembers. He's watched DeWitt die too many times, seen her die several times as well. He knows every ending, and he understands.

His own death, he hasn't thought about since it happened. But now... Now he remembers the accident. The way the electricity went wrong and everything shut down around him and around Rosalind. The way his body had seized up. He can't remember what was dying and what was being in the asylum.

But now he knows for certain that she is awake.

So, he speaks softly... but enough to be heard.]

Elizabeth.

[She looks wildly to the door, trying to breathe evenly.]

Uncle Rob-- ... [Elizabeth lets her hands and the blanket fall into her lap. She doesn't know what to call him anymore.]

I'm sorry I woke you. It was just a memory.

I was already awake.

[His voice remains quiet. Even though he's fairly sure no one is asleep in the apartment right now.

What he almost adds but doesn't is "with a few of my own."

But his troubles don't matter. Not when she's upset.

Though it's hard to address that. He hardly has any right to. What he can address is the cut off address.]

"Robert" is fine, if you'd like.

[Yes, Elizabeth had known Robert would catch her slip up. It was becoming clearer and clearer who she was, what she was. But one thing held onto her so tightly it hurt. And clearly, she couldn't shake it off.]

Robert... [It doesn't feel wrong, somehow.]

...It was nice, having a family. [She smiles at him, sadly.] I guess I don't want to let it go. Even if I know the truth now.

[After... all of that, "Mister Lutece" was probably a bit too formal. Especially since he'd watched the girl grow up, even if she'd never known him.]

I... I apologize for my role. In... all of it.

[Getting her arrested, keeping her in the tower, bringing her to Comstock in the first place.]

I don't blame you, though. Not wanting to let it go. It's... [He stops, really looks at her, and even sighs a little.]

Family is something you can't really describe, but you hold onto it once you have it.

[That's right. Both of them were mourning family, weren't they? Only Elizabeth's had been entirely a lie. A beautiful lie that burned too brightly in her chest now. Rosalind was still there, to Robert, but Elizabeth knew he understood what was really happening to him.]

I want to hold onto it. But Booker, he... [Elizabeth shakes her head and draws her knees up.] He lost his child. I can't take the place of his real family.

Maybe not.

[It's not his place to tell her. If anyone does, it should be DeWitt. She might be ready to hear it, she might not. It's not his decision to make.]

But family... Family isn't just blood. Isn't just the people you've known your whole life.

[He's not good at this. He's never been good at this. Chatting with a potential financier, yes. Providing real comfort, no.]

Sometimes you have to make your own. No matter the risk.

[Is he talking about her? Or is he talking about himself? Or to the woman he can see standing in the room, who he knows isn't there?

Maybe it's all three.]

[Yes, perhaps that was true. It seemed like it was just a pretty thing to say to someone without a loving family, but not everyone had a loving family. Sometimes they just had people they were related to. And sometimes--]

[Elizabeth grips the covers again, trying to force out that stabbing memory of her screaming and begging-- 'I'll be your daughter!']

Robert--! [It comes out a little more desperate and panicked than she'd intended it to.] I have a memory, that one time when Booker was grieving too much, you stayed with me until I fell asleep. I know it isn't real, but... would you? Just tonight?

[Tomorrow she might feel less like Robert was her doting uncle. She wouldn't force her feeling of family to slip away prematurely.]

[Robert makes himself smile a little.]

How can I say no?

["You're so sentimental."

Robert glances up and offers the same soft smile to an empty spot in the room. Then, he makes himself move forward, actually sitting at the end of Elizabeth's bed.

He's tired. And exhausted in more ways than just the physical. So, he lets himself say it.

...Maybe so she doesn't feel so alone with the things that haunt her.]

I think I'd prefer not to be alone right now myself.

[Because he is alone. No matter what he sees, what he hears, even what he feels. It's not real.]

Do you want to sleep here? [Elizabeth's eyebrows come together in concern. She still feels incredibly guilty for leaving Robert in the asylum. For not trying harder sooner. For spending two days running around avoiding the police when she and Booker could have taken down the whole place before the rioting had started.] Would that make you feel better?

I'll stay until you fall asleep.

[...And he might end up dozing off. But he won't admit that to her.]

I'll be fine.

[DeWitt knows what the asylum was. What their methods were. Or he did then. Maybe he won't remember. Robert hopes so. But Elizabeth... All she needs to know is about the isolation. That can cause enough fear. Anything else... she doesn't need to know.

From where he sits, he shifts -- brings one leg up to lean his weight against it.]

Why don't you... If you'd like to -- I never had any of the memories they created. Why don't you tell me some of the things you remember? The good ones.

[Elizabeth hesitates, wondering how this might help. But maybe it would calm her down, much like how Robert's presence at the end of her bed is calming her down. She lays back into her many pillows.]

I remember birthdays. I remember... that when I was little I wanted a balloon for my birthday. And Booker bought me one, and didn't even laugh when I cried and cried over it deflating days later. [She laughs quietly, slightly embarrassed even if the memory was fake.]

I remember visiting my mother's grave, and you both held my hands while we all cried. I remember Booker getting angry when we mixed baking soda and vinegar together and it went all over the table. I remember Rosalind trying to explain to me that the reason boys pushed me down on the playground was because they didn't know how else to interact with me, while you tried to convince Booker that knocking around a seven-year-old wouldn't do anything.

...they're nice, even if they aren't mine.

...Sounds like DeWitt.

[It's softly said, and Robert actually reaches out his hand to touch hers.

It sounds nice, actually. That sort of a family. Rather than growing up an only child in a family that wasn't quite sure how to handle a genius. To have actually grown up with Rosalind... What would that have been like? He shakes his head, looking briefly up at the woman still standing across the room from them. She isn't real, but seeing her...]

They sound nice. Like what you should have grown up with. I... I'm only sorry you didn't.

[Elizabeth squeezes Robert's hand tightly and drops her head onto her knees. It is what she should have grown up with, what every normal child should have. It was too late, though. Her life would never be like that, thanks to Comstock.]

I'm sorry too. [Her voice is thick, she's trying to control her emotions and rein in her tears. She'd cried so much during the experiment, she thinks she might rattle apart if she cries anymore.]

[Robert takes a deep breath. He doesn't... really know what he's doing, but. Sometimes... Especially that night... Sometimes Rosalind would need someone. Even she couldn't be totally alone.

So, Robert let himself wrap an arm around Elizabeth and tug her close to him.]

He's... not perfect, DeWitt. But he does care about you. It's not a childhood... not the past you should have had.

[He touches her hair gently.]

But it's a future.

[Elizabeth leans heavily on Robert, both surprised and so relieved that he chose to hold her. As the memories of her being constantly hugged and held and comforted were starting to be supplanted by years and years of 'DO NOT TOUCH THE SPECIMEN', she'd started to miss physical contact.]

I guess I'd assumed at the beginning that he wouldn't stay with me. He had his own life, after all. [She rests her head on Robert's shoulder.] But at the end, I don't know if I could have let him walk off on his own.

He's as alone as you are. [Alone and looking for a family. Even if DeWitt would never think he deserved one.

It was why he was perfect. Besides his own debt to her, besides his skill in killing people -- he had needed Elizabeth as much as she had needed him.

Maybe... No. She definitely deserved to know.]

After the battle with the Vox? Before he takes you to Paris? [That part... not entirely true, but it sounds better than the whole truth.] He stops Comstock. Breaks the whole cycle. So that in no other world do you grow up without your family.

[Elizabeth buries her eyes in Robert's shoulder, overwhelmed for a moment. She didn't know how it was possible to stop Comstock, break whatever 'cycle' she had started with her tears. But even if it was too late for her, Booker had cared enough about what her life could have been to save her again. Countless times.]

And we're together. In Paris...

The city of lights.

[It's a good distraction, he thinks. One he can actually talk about. After all, he saw quite a bit of the world before we went to Columbia, before he crossed through a tear.

And Paris...]

The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame.

It's a beautiful city.

You've been there? [Distraction accomplished. Elizabeth lifts her head, expression brightening a little. If there was one thing that always cheered her up, it was talk of Paris. Of anyplace that was new and exciting.]

A few touring lectures from physicists I greatly admired as a young man happened to be in Paris, so I travelled for them.

[Which is, actually, entirely true. He'd gone there for his work and his passion, not necessarily for the city. But he had seen it while he was there.]

How exciting. [Elizabeth settles back on Robert's shoulder, smiling as she imagines him as a wide-eyed young man with his suitcase and traveling hat. Chasing knowledge.]

I can't wait to go. It seems like such a... cultural hub. Art and music, literature, philosophy, everything.

One of the few places of the world where... you can get lost and not care. Because there's something to see around every corner.

[Exaggerating? Maybe a little. But that's what she needs right now. A... A bedtime story. A little bit of hope.]

I learned about art there. Never had been interested in it before then.

[Yes, she could have pleasant dreams all night of wandering the streets of Paris, lost and in love. No looking over her shoulder, understanding absolutely everything that was happening.]

Ah, did you go to the Louvre? [She wiggles a little as she resituates herself on Robert's shoulder.]

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