The decision has been made. LILITH Japan orders the Outsiders to mobilize to pursue the Imugi.
Given that they are in a foreign country, they are largely dependent on LILITH Korea’s resources. In response to the decision, the Korean branch provides some assistance: the Outsiders are given just enough vehicles to help transport them, essential supplies, and only a few operatives to help guide them. This is the most the Korean branch is able to give, as they must focus on relocating people and restoring peace following the attack.
LILITH announces that the Imugi is currently resting near Gangneung on the east coast and they must move quickly. The effects of Rift poisoning will grow stronger as they approach the source; a sign that they are close to a kaiju. Upon reaching the mountains just outside the city, LILITH informs them that they are right on top of its location.
However, there is no Imugi to be found. After searching the area, Outsiders will discover the source of the trace and the poisoning: eggs. They will find about twelve eggs. When they report their findings, Seokdang will curse. In their rush, they had followed the wrong trace. They didn’t track down an injured and resting Imugi—they tracked down the Imugi’s nest. So where is the Imugi?
Not long after, Outsiders will receive an update on their implants: the Imugi reappeared in Seoul. After seeing the corpse of its mate, it went berserk and attacked the city again. While many of the citizens were evacuated to nearby Incheon and remaining shelters, just as many perished, with the death toll at 168,000 and rising. LILITH’s Korean base is destroyed.
The Imugi was last seen flying north, but the Korean government prohibits the Outsiders from pursuing it again through their territory. By choosing to pursue the kaiju, the Outsiders have abandoned humanity and thus will receive no further support. They are ordered to leave the country immediately.
LILITH Japan will order them to collect as many eggs as possible and continue to the abandoned city of Gangneung, where they will arrange pick up and return to base in Tokyo.
▶ AFTERWORD.
Thanks everyone for participating in our first major Event Decision! We hope you had fun discussing what to do both ICly and OOCly.
After failing to capture the second Imugi and also failing to save a large portion of Seoul's population, characters will be shipped back to Japan. The events of the TDM will springboard from there. Feel free to use this post to thread out any aftermath threads if you would like.
All tags on this log are worth 2 points and will count towards August AC.
[ 'See you' he says… but the clock will strike 7. There'll be no knock to his door. Even if he chooses to peek around before the minute rolls over, Redemption's halls remain quiet.
Almost as if by design, there'll be a ping to his implant at exactly 1900 hours and 50 odd seconds. Technically still 7. ]
> ACCEPT @ HOTTIE'S DATAVERSE INVITATION? > YES / NO
[Of course, Sampo can be punctual or not depending on the mood and how funny it is, and he's not putting it past Elysium to just ghost him, either. Half expecting it, really. Tricky little bird.]
[ it's true, the timelines where he ghosts him are equally as common as the ones where he doesn't.
Because what he has planned… well. It'll speak for itself, as the world before Sampo will extend into a wintery landscape. It's quiet and idyllic, snow freefalling from the skies—plopped right into the middle of a snowbank, Sampo will find that the snow itself reaches all the way up to his waist.
It's one thing to recreate a world from memory; it's another to create a world from something you've seen once, and in a brief glimpse at that. From the crisp air, to the cool temperatures, to even the feeling of the ground beneath them—every detail is accounted for, startlingly real, and if the scene itself feels eerily familiar, the house atop the hill might be a little more recognisable, lit windows with smoke gently rolling from its chimney. ]
You seemed homesick back in Osaka. Probably still are, yeah?
[The snow, the sky, the house on a hill. Sampo staggers forward, as if a little dazed, before perfectly whirling on his heel even in the thick snow to turn towards the master crafter, here. He's used to such weather. He moves effortlessly.]
[Yes, as if that explains anything. He doesn't get it. Why? Just for him?]
[What would be a smiley light tone is noticably rough around the edges.]
'Too kind'… hearing something like that from you sounds seriously creepy. You know it's not like that, cut it out.
[ The reality is, hasn't Sampo already done much worse? Consider it Elysium's payback. The last thing either of them want is for this back and forth to escalate?? ]
Unlike your little snow globe, the things here aren't just for show. [ … ] I tested it out a while back with a friend of mine. Incredible, right? C'mon.
[ With less of a frame of reference for the house, the insides are… much less spectacular than the details given outside. There's a bar stocked to the brim, but otherwise, it seems to exist just to exist. At least, there's a table and couch that sit facing outwards towards windows—"man of many talents" but interior decorator ain't one, it seems. ]
[ Now, what would be the worst? Elysium's face scrunches a little. But before Sampo can read into it if he so happens to be looking, a wool blanket will manifest right above him, falling atop his head with a solid thump. ]
Just clearing the last debt between us.
[ Intuitively, it's not like he wants to see what Sampo's reaction to that would be, either. ]
It's been a long time coming, so just think about everything else as interest. [ because he could. because he wonders what the weight of 168k lives and counting would be, to him. and because he remembers the mention of belobog being a final bastion of humanity, and if he's reminded of that. ] It's not that deep.
Oof, if you keep stealing words from my book there, I'll sue ya.
[Same thing, same thing. Clearing the debts. Not letting favors fester, and rotten, and change into something else.]
[He lets out a little squeak at the wool blanket, though, pulling it down with his head peeking out. Mm. Cozy.]
Not that deep. Okay. [And a pause - he seems to chew on that, and spit it out mentally, like he's found out he's munching on days-old gum. He pats the spot next to him.] C'mere.
[ Sampo's head pokes out from earthy browns like a sprout of bright blue, just in time for Elysium to school his expression from something complicated to something more——amused, a façade of how he actually feels. ]
Were you always the type to want to canoodle? How cute. But if you aren't careful, you'll end up adding to your tab.
[ A vague hand gesture that eventually settles on the bar. ]
Canoodling? [He holds his hands up, like a criminal being caught in a flashlight beam.] C'mon, do you see me as that touchy? Can't a guy just ask for another guy to sit next to him?
[And yeah........sure. Yeah. The drink. He huffs.]
Just kidding. [ The 'here and now.' The echo of it still rings. As he moves behind the bar, it's not that he's become more comfortable behind it, per se. Unlike in the beginnings where he'd carelessly put together drinks both from recipe cards and not, there's more purpose in his movements, actual concentration when he measures out various liquors.
Not that it particularly matters when the drink will taste like how Elysium remembers it anyway—the result: hot sima, or as an expression of its parts, warmed honeyed mead with vodka. 'Sampo Koski'——if that even is his name, would find its origins in Sami of Elysium's world: an amalgamation of various Nordic countries, a frozen, inhospitable land, its people characterised by their sheer resilience. Thus, the drink Elysium's made. Thus, the drink that represents who he's chosen to be, because who is Elysium to try and define him?
He might realise that a piping hot drink doesn't really work, even in the cool setting of an air-conditioned bar. It steams, even as it's set down in front of him. ]
Tadaaaaaaaa. [ singsong and with a smile. and yet, his intonation is practically non-existent. ]
Couldn't hear that in my place in Blankettown, sir.
[He says, muffled. "Do you think you're the only factor?" What a question. It burns a little. Another thing to chew on, with a bittersweet taste.]
[He stays in Blankettown for now. It's simple there. He wishes it could always be simpler. He won't watch Elysium
-okay maybe he WILL peak, just a tad. Just a little. The man behind the bar, and its a mirror of their first meeting, with the taste of absinthe burning down their throat. Elysium moves with confidence, which makes him stare, mildly transfixed, before he notices him starting to move away with his creation and he's hiding again.]
[Hello, Blankettown. Simple as ever. He'll leave once he hears the tadaaaaaaaa, glancing between both Elysium and the drink with interest.]
For me? You shouldn't have.
[He'll take it to take a gingerly sip.]
[It's warm. It smells good. It warms him. It reminds him of the Geomarrow, mined to provide heat to the cold, shivering denizens of the Underworld.]
[He wants to smile, and joke, but he
can't, at least for now. He'll simply stare, cupping the warm drink to let the heat seep into his palms.]
[ how demure. very mindful. very cutesy. the antithesis of how he has been, combatant at every corner.
He contemplates this very scene in front of him before he flits his gaze to make eye contact, expression blank. His arms are loosely crossed, but the gesture itself is a touch defensive. ]
… A high note to end our positive feedback cycles on, don't you think?
[ Come here, he gestures. But when has Elysium ever been complaisant, particularly to him? ]
What's with the expression? You haven't already forgotten your promise, have you?
[ A heavier sigh, followed by a lighter smile that's tired around its edges. While he won't make any motion to join him on the couch, he does lean forward, close enough for their faces to be inches apart. If he wants to run, that's fine, too. But this is 'dealing' with him, at least to Elysium. ]
No more transactions, no more debts. [ Enunciated clearly, hands now on his hips. ] With the slate wiped clean, what else are you going to attribute what I say and my actions to? [ A 'nostalgia' he doesn't know anything about?
This is how it should've been to begin with, he thinks. With a healthy degree of separation, the same in which he treats everyone else. It's simpler. It's more complicated. As if history is that easily forgotten or overwritten. After all that's said and established is a quieter: ]
… You're welcome. [ to flip the repaid debt on its head. ] This Operator Elysium guy sure knows how to look after someone. You can say it, you know.
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synfluxmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synflux2024-08-22 04:03 am
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Let me just move around my schedule to accommodate you too.
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What an honor from the great Elysium himself
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7PM it is.
[ ? ]
no subject
Sure
Kind of scaring me but I'm ready
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If you're scared we can just call it off
No hurt feelings
Promise
:)
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:)
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Don't mess up my words sir
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See you then.
[ 'See you' he says… but the clock will strike 7. There'll be no knock to his door. Even if he chooses to peek around before the minute rolls over, Redemption's halls remain quiet.
Almost as if by design, there'll be a ping to his implant at exactly 1900 hours and 50 odd seconds. Technically still 7. ]
> YES / NO
no subject
[Of course, Sampo can be punctual or not depending on the mood and how funny it is, and he's not putting it past Elysium to just ghost him, either. Half expecting it, really. Tricky little bird.]
[This is a bit unexpected, though.]
[Fine.]
> YES
no subject
Because what he has planned… well. It'll speak for itself, as the world before Sampo will extend into a wintery landscape. It's quiet and idyllic, snow freefalling from the skies—plopped right into the middle of a snowbank, Sampo will find that the snow itself reaches all the way up to his waist.
It's one thing to recreate a world from memory; it's another to create a world from something you've seen once, and in a brief glimpse at that. From the crisp air, to the cool temperatures, to even the feeling of the ground beneath them—every detail is accounted for, startlingly real, and if the scene itself feels eerily familiar, the house atop the hill might be a little more recognisable, lit windows with smoke gently rolling from its chimney. ]
You seemed homesick back in Osaka. Probably still are, yeah?
[ as if! that's an explanation! ]
no subject
[The snow, the sky, the house on a hill. Sampo staggers forward, as if a little dazed, before perfectly whirling on his heel even in the thick snow to turn towards the master crafter, here. He's used to such weather. He moves effortlessly.]
[Yes, as if that explains anything. He doesn't get it. Why? Just for him?]
[What would be a smiley light tone is noticably rough around the edges.]
.....Why?
no subject
[ Don't look at him, bud! ]
Isn't the atmosphere half the experience when enjoying a good drink?
no subject
[Why not. More of his own dishes and he doesn't like the taste of someone adapting his recipe. Its fine.]
[He heaves a little sigh, rubbing at his forehead.]
It is...I can't fault you for that. But its too kind. Really.
[He has to repay it. Somehow.]
Can we even drink in a place like this?
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[ The reality is, hasn't Sampo already done much worse? Consider it Elysium's payback. The last thing either of them want is for this back and forth to escalate?? ]
Unlike your little snow globe, the things here aren't just for show. [ … ] I tested it out a while back with a friend of mine. Incredible, right? C'mon.
[ With less of a frame of reference for the house, the insides are… much less spectacular than the details given outside. There's a bar stocked to the brim, but otherwise, it seems to exist just to exist. At least, there's a table and couch that sit facing outwards towards windows—"man of many talents" but interior decorator ain't one, it seems. ]
no subject
[He tilts his head, with the smuggest little grin.]
What is it, then? Tell me. A guy like me is real curious. Else, I'll just assume the worst!
[He will, he can, and he has assumed the worst. Nya. :3]
[But that aside, he will step inside, glancing around, before throwing himself unceremoniously onto the couch.]
Better than what I got at home. See, there's even furniture.
no subject
Just clearing the last debt between us.
[ Intuitively, it's not like he wants to see what Sampo's reaction to that would be, either. ]
It's been a long time coming, so just think about everything else as interest. [ because he could. because he wonders what the weight of 168k lives and counting would be, to him. and because he remembers the mention of belobog being a final bastion of humanity, and if he's reminded of that. ] It's not that deep.
no subject
[Same thing, same thing. Clearing the debts. Not letting favors fester, and rotten, and change into something else.]
[He lets out a little squeak at the wool blanket, though, pulling it down with his head peeking out. Mm. Cozy.]
Not that deep. Okay. [And a pause - he seems to chew on that, and spit it out mentally, like he's found out he's munching on days-old gum. He pats the spot next to him.] C'mere.
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Were you always the type to want to canoodle? How cute. But if you aren't careful, you'll end up adding to your tab.
[ A vague hand gesture that eventually settles on the bar. ]
I still have your drink to make, you know.
no subject
[And yeah........sure. Yeah. The drink. He huffs.]
Sure. Make it. I'll wait.
[Going underneath the blanket again. Bye.]
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[ their track record
but also… ]
Just kidding. [ The 'here and now.' The echo of it still rings. As he moves behind the bar, it's not that he's become more comfortable behind it, per se. Unlike in the beginnings where he'd carelessly put together drinks both from recipe cards and not, there's more purpose in his movements, actual concentration when he measures out various liquors.
Not that it particularly matters when the drink will taste like how Elysium remembers it anyway—the result: hot sima, or as an expression of its parts, warmed honeyed mead with vodka. 'Sampo Koski'——if that even is his name, would find its origins in Sami of Elysium's world: an amalgamation of various Nordic countries, a frozen, inhospitable land, its people characterised by their sheer resilience. Thus, the drink Elysium's made. Thus, the drink that represents who he's chosen to be, because who is Elysium to try and define him?
He might realise that a piping hot drink doesn't really work, even in the cool setting of an air-conditioned bar. It steams, even as it's set down in front of him. ]
Tadaaaaaaaa. [ singsong and with a smile. and yet, his intonation is practically non-existent. ]
no subject
[He says, muffled. "Do you think you're the only factor?" What a question. It burns a little. Another thing to chew on, with a bittersweet taste.]
[He stays in Blankettown for now. It's simple there. He wishes it could always be simpler. He won't watch Elysium
-okay maybe he WILL peak, just a tad. Just a little. The man behind the bar, and its a mirror of their first meeting, with the taste of absinthe burning down their throat. Elysium moves with confidence, which makes him stare, mildly transfixed, before he notices him starting to move away with his creation and he's hiding again.]
[Hello, Blankettown. Simple as ever. He'll leave once he hears the tadaaaaaaaa, glancing between both Elysium and the drink with interest.]
For me? You shouldn't have.
[He'll take it to take a gingerly sip.]
[It's warm. It smells good. It warms him. It reminds him of the Geomarrow, mined to provide heat to the cold, shivering denizens of the Underworld.]
[He wants to smile, and joke, but he
can't, at least for now. He'll simply stare, cupping the warm drink to let the heat seep into his palms.]
...Thanks.
no subject
He contemplates this very scene in front of him before he flits his gaze to make eye contact, expression blank. His arms are loosely crossed, but the gesture itself is a touch defensive. ]
… A high note to end our positive feedback cycles on, don't you think?
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[Another sip. Only a light twitch of his eyelids is an answer for that question, which isn't an answer at all.]
[He reaches out a hand and pats next to him on the couch. C'mere.]
no subject
What's with the expression? You haven't already forgotten your promise, have you?
[ A heavier sigh, followed by a lighter smile that's tired around its edges. While he won't make any motion to join him on the couch, he does lean forward, close enough for their faces to be inches apart. If he wants to run, that's fine, too. But this is 'dealing' with him, at least to Elysium. ]
No more transactions, no more debts. [ Enunciated clearly, hands now on his hips. ] With the slate wiped clean, what else are you going to attribute what I say and my actions to? [ A 'nostalgia' he doesn't know anything about?
This is how it should've been to begin with, he thinks. With a healthy degree of separation, the same in which he treats everyone else. It's simpler. It's more complicated. As if history is that easily forgotten or overwritten. After all that's said and established is a quieter: ]
… You're welcome. [ to flip the repaid debt on its head. ] This Operator Elysium guy sure knows how to look after someone. You can say it, you know.
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