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!

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...He did. [Robert's hand stilled briefly. It brought back the thought he hated to dwell on, yet it pervaded his thoughts now.]

All our debts were paid, in the end.

[Elizabeth is almost sleepy enough to let that slide by.]

What do you mean 'in the end'?

I've seen how it ends. When you and DeWitt hit upon how to stop Comstock before he ever begins.

By seeing he answers for what he did and is stopped, we all answer for our actions, good and ill.

[She frowns softly, thinking this may be a waste of her breath but she still wants to know.]

How does it end?

The Prophet never exists.

[She's tired enough, he hopes, that she won't remember. That she won't see just how many threads that unravels. That she'll see only the good it will do her and Lady Comstock and those the Prophet used.

That she won't see how it undoes the ones he helped, too. She doesn't need that on her shoulders.]

The only way it could end -- if it never began.

[Elizabeth's eyebrows come together as she tries to parse out how she and Booker could possibly do that. Maybe something to do with the siphon's destruction. Maybe in some tear Elizabeth and Booker stopped Comstock from ever founding Columbia, somehow.]

That makes sense, even if I don't know how we could do that. It has to do with tears, right?

You told DeWitt that when you were young, you could create tears. The destruction of the siphon allows that again.

[There was so much more to it, but that was all she needed to know. For now, at least.]

You're able to choose when you go, not just where, and... There is no way to really end the cycle unless it never begins.

[And so the Prophet is drowned before he could ever be born again. But that, especially, he can never tell her. She'll have to learn that for herself or hear it from DeWitt.]

Oh... [Elizabeth's hands wrap around Robert's elbow as she considers that. Killing him before he became The Prophet? Killing him before he murdered people at Wounded Knee? Or before he ever really lived?]

[The idea of killing an infant causes her to recoil and tense against Robert. She had to have done it, otherwise Robert wouldn't have said that it had ended, but she can't reconcile the thought now. Even with all that Comstock had done to her, there was something just repulsive about harming a baby.]

And Booker's with me when I do this? When I kill him? [God Robert, don't tell her she's alone at the end. Tell her anything but that.]

Right by your side.

[No matter the cost to him.

For that, Robert gave DeWitt credit. He never left Elizabeth, never balked when the situation took a turn for the worse. Even when he realized what he would have to do.]

He never leaves you.

[Elizabeth nods and squeezes Robert's elbow again. She's afraid, she feels like there's more to this than she can immediately work out, but she's tired both emotionally and physically. Working out 'the end' can come later.]

...I thought that might calm me down, make me capable of sleeping. I'm afraid I won't be able to do what I have to. And then what?

[What then indeed...]

Then you're free. No cage, no leash. No Prophet.

In a million worlds, there is no Comstock. You grow up with your family.

[No Comstock. Those million worlds are safe from him, those million versions of her are safe. And perhaps her actively being the hand that stopped him meant that she--not the Elizabeth of those million worlds--wouldn't have that chance to know her family.]

[But she nods, sad but content. If growing up with her family felt anything like it had this past week, with Booker and Robert, she was glad to have given that chance to those versions of her.]

What about Columbia? What about you and Miss Lutece? ...What about Booker?

[Elizabeth wasn't unintelligent, even tired. She could start to see things unraveling...]

[Robert closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself really think about those questions.]

Columbia won't ever exist, and Mr DeWitt... Well. He gets a second chance. Just like you do.

[What he doesn't answer is the question about he and Rosalind. Because that... he doesn't want to have to answer that. Even if he knows he'll have to.]

...he gets a second chance? [Elizabeth goes a little pale as she realizes what Robert is saying. 'Second chance' on its own could mesh with the picture Elizabeth had painted, but if Elizabeth's second chance was the opportunity to grow up with a family, did Booker's second chance extend just as far back...?]

[Their world didn't exist in a vacuum, probably. Everything would fall apart without Columbia, without Comstock. Elizabeth would never have a tower, and Booker would never have to let her out.]

[She gets a sudden burst of energy, and darts out of bed as though she was about to be sick. The resulting headrush makes her sway, but Elizabeth is too afraid to notice.]

It all comes apart, then. If we kill Comstock before he builds Columbia, I never grow up in my tower. Booker and I won't meet, neither will you or Miss Lutece, I won't be the same. At the most basic of levels... [She swallows, trying to find a word that isn't so terrifying. But she can't.] The me as I am now... is going to die.

Our actions have consequences far beyond what we ever know. [Which is, at best, putting it mildly.] Comstock's actions of Columbia and his youth affected DeWitt long before he was brought to your tower. Without Comstock, his life changes. As all ours do.

[He won't discuss how these things come together. What DeWitt and Comstock share, how integral these second chances are. None of those things are his to tell her.

But what he can't deny...]

We all cease to exist as we are -- as we were. The clock is turned back, and it begins ticking again as if it was never interrupted.

Different universes, all parallel. Without much chance of ever intersecting again.

[She would not exist as she was. Robert... wasn't sure he'd call it death, but... Whatever it was, it was close enough. DeWitt would cease to exist as he was. Rosalind. Him. Lady Comstock. All of their lives would be unwritten. Would play out without the Prophet's hand.]

I... I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm sorry it ever came to this.

[Elizabeth crosses her arms and digs her fingers into her skin. No amount of protective body language would save her from her mind, though. All of her memories, all of the things she smiled at, Booker and Robert and Gai--she would save all of her selves from Comstock, and that would leave her with... nothing. With a life that wasn't hers, memories that would be wiped away like etchings in the sand by a wave.]

[She shakes her head, refusing to cry, but clearly holding too much feeling in to be healthy.] I can't. I can't do it. Not if it's going to destroy everything, I can't.

[Robert tightens his arm around her, even hugs her to him a bit. It's a protective gesture... and perhaps an apologetic one.]

Then you won't. Remember that, Elizabeth: there's always a choice.

[He's seen how it ends. How it has to end. How it will end. Even if it takes a hundred more tries.]

You can choose to go to Paris. Just you and DeWitt.

You always have a choice.

I don't! You said when we first met that you know how it ends, you said just now that that is how it ends! It doesn't matter what I choose if you know how the story is supposed to end.

[She shakes her head again, harder, trying to rattle the thought out of her head.] I've never had a choice, have I?

I know how the version I saw ends. But I also know that it ends that way because you make the choice. Not me, not Comstock, not DeWitt. You.

Our timelines are different. Maybe you are from a different version of the world. Maybe you'll choose differently.

But it won't matter. [Elizabeth grips Robert, teetering on the edge of tears.] Even if I'm not the Elizabeth who makes that choice, it all comes apart when that stronger, angrier, resigned Elizabeth makes the choice. And I'll just... I'll just...!

[She lets the tears happen as she imagines herself simply disappearing off the streets of Paris.]

[Robert shuts his eyes, wrapping his other arm around her. He'd told DeWitt, but... DeWitt had seen it all. Had understood why it had to happen. There was no way to tell Elizabeth that.

So, instead, he just holds her.]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.

[Elizabeth's first instinct is to shove Robert off of her and agree--he shouldn't have said anything. He should have just kept this to himself, she had been happy not knowing.]

[But she would find out eventually. There was only so long they could live in the same house before it happened, Elizabeth would only keep her questions to herself for so long. She shakes her head again as she cries and pulls herself closer to Robert.]

No, no I'm... it's good that this is happening now. [The crying overwhelms her again.] I have to do it. I know I have to do it, I have to look it right in the face or I'll be scared for the rest of my life.

It's...

[Robert doesn't know how to explain it. How to make it less awful. Because he can't. And, somewhere in him, he knows that.]

It's physics. Newton.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

To gain something, something of equal value must be lost.

[A lifetime of suffering and a few instances of happiness for the prospect of the reverse. It's better for Elizabeth. Better for DeWitt. Better for everyone. On such a large scale.

But all that matters in that instant is the girl crying in his arms.]

I never meant for it to end that way. I only wanted to get you out of his reach. Even we didn't know how it would end. Not until we saw it.

[Would he have insisted so vehemently? Would he have threatened to leave Rosalind to make her do what he wanted? If he'd known he'd lose her, would he have paid that price?]

But I feel I'm losing more than I'm gaining. [Elizabeth wipes her eyes, trying to pull herself together, trying to smile remembering Booker and her and Robert eating ice cream in the kitchen.]

I don't know what's on the other end of this choice. I don't know if I'll ever know, if I'll grow up loving to read, or wanting to go to Paris. I want to be the same, I want to be the same.

[She tears up again, shakes her head again.] I won't remember anyone, I don't know if losing you, and Booker, and Gai, and everything I am is worth having a family.

And you won't know you lost anything.

[Gai.

He remembers that name. Something left over from the altered memories? Or something else? Hn. At the moment, it doesn't matter. What does matter is the crying girl in his arms.]

So why worry now?

You won't remember losing anything, and you can't know when it's coming, so live every day as much as you can.

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