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tabularasa_rp2020-09-15 10:58 pm
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Entry tags:
- *game event,
- *mingle,
- *open,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dragon age inquisition: cole,
- elsword: add,
- fate/grand order: merlin,
- ffvii remake: aerith gainsborough,
- ffvii remake: tifa lockhart,
- ffvii: zack fair,
- ffviii: rinoa heartilly,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- original: melinoë,
- persona 5: ren amamiya,
- pokémon: raihan,
- pokémon: samuel oak,
- starbound: indigo,
- watch_dogs: damien brenks
003 - Memories of a False History

OOC ▲ Comments
The Sound of All Things Bad
The sound comes without warning. What the sound is cannot quite be made out - it is at once artificial and natural, bestial and mechanical, rumbling and roaring and crunching, shattering and crashing and screaming. Everything about it feels like a threat, warning of danger. The cacophony of noise reaches throughout the entire Void, loud and inescapable, the mangling and clashing of different sounds leaving each individual with a different idea of what it could possibly have been. It sounds different to everyone, each person able to pick out a part of the sound that ties to their own fears.
What if...?
How long the sound lasts would depend on how the individual perceives time. It might last for seconds, or it might last for minutes, but once it stops it does not repeat. Where it came from or what it is does not become the slightest bit clearer, and people are left to only speculate.
Disaster
No one can quite be sure what has prompted them to remember that day. It might have been that noise of approaching doom, or perhaps it is seeing the crumbling ruins of Hammerlocke itself. Once a stray memory surfaces, it is easy enough to look into the details and recall in full the vivid memory of Hammerlocke’s destruction - the ‘truth’ of what caused the mountainside city to crumble into ruins, as so many have wondered since their first appearance. Though the memory is clear and detailed, vivid enough to have been witnessed in person, it is out of place and does not belong, and anyone who can recall the events knows it.
Attempting to discuss the matter will soon reveal that while others recall the event with similar clarity, the details vary from person to person. Over time, their own memory changes and adapts, occasionally changing to something new entirely, yet the original is never completely forgotten. Memory is a strange and fickle thing, so easy to influence and manipulate, that the truth is difficult to find.
While memories differ from person to person, there are three particular tales that recur:
From the Sky
Though the sky above did not change from its paper-like blank white, the land grew darker and darker as though cast in shadow. The source of the shadow was clear: above, slowly descending towards the wings of the castle, was... something. Something immense, yet shrouded in crackling storm clouds.
As it continued to grow closer and closer, something in the clouds began to swell. It grew larger and larger, an electric hum of energy in the air, until with a resounding crack it burst and a great shadowy beast fell to the ground, landing with such force that the resulting shockwave shook the earth and tore through the stone buildings, causing so much of the city to tumble in an instant. It moves, and it screeches, raising its head up as the great storm above continues to swell and crackle.
This would not be the only beast.
(Based upon: Meteor, the Lunar Cry, and the Darkest Day)
The Battlefield
It was never clear why the fighting eventually made its way to this defenseless city, but it came without warning. The chaos was heralded only by explosions as the city walls were blasted through by tanks that had somehow made their way along the treacherous and narrow mountain path that simply was not meant for such heavy machines. The thundering explosions and the collapse of buildings could surely be heard for miles, and people and animals alike were quick to flee.
Though they reached Hammerlocke first, the tanks seemed like nothing compared to the enemy. The enormous shadowy monstrosity that swooped in from the sky seemed to be made from far more advanced technology. Even just the one towering machine, as large as the castle falling to ruins beneath its feet as it lands, proves deadly as it fires upon the approaching tanks, blasting them all to pieces within an instant before turning fire on whichever buildings remain standing.
(Based upon: Tanks, and Reapers)
The Mysterious StormMisplaced Memories
There had been no way to predict the change in the weather, never mind how destructive it would prove. One moment, everything had been still and quiet, and the next the city was assailed by howling, violent winds and freezing, glittering snow and ice. Though the city was built of stone and had stood the test of time for centuries, it could not stand against these combined forces. The only shelter was underground, for the furious storm was so powerful it could rip through earth, lift up and fling any object in its path with devastating force, shattering windows and toppling buildings.
Propelled by such force, the ice and hail proved destructive in its own right. As the storm froze everything in its path, the hailstones became like bullets and great chunks of ice became missiles. By the time the winds began to grow calm, there was little left standing.
Something about the storm seemed somehow unnatural, but where it came from was anyone’s guess. Some, however, may have spied a vague figure through the tempest, of unclear appearance but its presence somehow threatening.
(Based upon: Weather, El shortage, and Diamond Dust)
Worries about whatever disaster must have befallen the ruined city of Hammerlocke aside, people quickly become aware that memories of the disaster are not the only invasive, foreign memories. How the other memories come to them seems, on the surface, to be very similar: a connected thought occurs, and upon realizing the memory is not theirs, people are compelled to think more about it until the memory is uncovered in full detail. Unlike the memory of the disaster, however, this one quite clearly belongs to someone else. Someone who is here.
On puzzling this out, some might find they have more than one stray memory sitting in their minds. More importantly, however, is the feeling that something from their own memory is missing, and whatever memory is missing feels like it is something important. It could just be their own phone number, or it could be their name, or the face of whoever is most important to them. It could be something small, it could be something big, but all people know is that it’s something important and it’s gone.
There is no clear, immediate answer as to what people can do about their lost memories. With regards to their new memories, however, the path might seem a tiny bit clearer, for surely it seems a bit unfair that they can see into someone’s past in such a manner without their knowing. Perhaps it’s best to talk to them about it?
Although the lost memory is not always the same as the ones borrowed, taking the memory back to its source and prompting them to discuss and think about it proves a great help - as they talk, the invasive memory leaves, a lost memory is restored, and those who succeed are able to tell others the solution.
While the invasive memory is gone, people can still recall having it, and can still recall the details, but they will no longer remember it from the other’s point of view. Perhaps it might change how they see each other from now on?

no subject
"We've got to get tough." Was that where it all started? With the only family he had left leaving him behind? With being abandoned at an orphanage, left to care for and protect a younger brother who needed support? And he was only a kid himself...
Self-protection, then. Shutting himself down to protect himself from those who might hurt him. Strengthening himself so that the bullies would leave his brother alone. It reminds her of Squall, of his determination to be strong. Like a lion.
She takes a deep breath, fiddles with the rings hung at her neck.
It's not an easy sort of question to ask, knowing how he probably feels about it, but... ]
You have a younger brother, right? Mokuba?
no subject
Was it a coincidence that she was here now, thinking back on the memory he'd recently viewed. It wasn't difficult to draw some parallels between how she carried herself and the person who'd served as his point of view. The persistence, the airiness of her tone, the pep talks. Still, as he was gazing at her now and her delicate features he briefly wondered something- if she spent so much time concerning herself with others, what sort of insecurities might be hiding herself? Not that it was any of his concern.. It's not as if they were close companions.
Little did he know that she was conducting her own character analysis in the reverse, and an alarmingly accurate one. Seto had done what he had needed to be in order to ensure that what was little was left of his family remained both together and secure. If that meant casting aside his emotions, and becoming cold and unfeeling then so be it. Any weakness could be used against you, chipping away at your foundations until you crumbled into nothingness. Therefore, he vowed to have none.
Seeing the nervous gesture, he looked past her into the hallway]
Maybe... you should step inside before saying anything else.
[That was a big maybe, but guess just this once he would have to make the sacrifice of inviting someone else into his personal space. Stepping to one side he allowed her to pass by him if she chose to do so.]
[He quirked up an eyebrow at that. When had he told her that? Tifa had overheard him saying the name before, had the girls compared notes?]
Yeah.... [Said with suspicion in his voice] What about him? [For one brief moment he felt oddly hopeful- maybe this meant that Rinoa had found the younger Kaiba and was working towards reuniting them but he mentally chided himself for the momentary lapse. Would she look so apprehensive if it was good news?]
no subject
But she has more important things to talk about than the state of his apartment; she offers him a small smile and reaches up to curl her fingers more tightly around her rings. ]
Then it was your memory...
[ She shakes her head. ]
I can't really explain it, but I've got a memory of yours, I guess? At the orphanage, with Mokuba. They were bullying him, you know? The other kids. You protected him a lot, tried to help him...
[ In his own way, at least. Completely different to how she herself would handle things, which is partly why the memory felt so out of place in her head. She would never encourage anyone to accept being alone.
(Little does she know that she's lost a memory of her own that proves exactly that.)
But she's not here to lecture him or try to change him, at least not today. This memory is his, and she needs to give it back to him. ]
Does that sound... familiar to you at all?