In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
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Activity filled the café in the First District, patrons bustling about as they sought coveted seats before the breakfast hour ended. Zephyr stood tentatively at the door, cautious and wary of throwing herself into the fray. Leo had tasked her with securing a table while he retrieved food and drinks, but she did not need her sight to recognize the throng of people that milled about inside, nor realize how difficult her quest would be. Her eyes narrowed and she rose up on the balls of her feet as she began a halfhearted search. Over the din, she could hear once or twice tentative questions people asked of others for occupation. Zephyr dared say that people were at the point of being forced to sit with strangers just to acquire a chair, lest they be caught back out in the chill. Even then, the tables set outside had also been filled, granting the quick respite the weather had given continued to hold out.
Zephyr huffed. She did not want to deal with this. It was too crowded, much too crowded, and the winged girl could only remember the panic attack she had here the night before. The café had been near empty, then. Bundling up within the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she decided to stay where she was and simply wait for Leo to return to her. They would take their goods and go, back to his dwelling or elsewhere, she didn't care. It had been such a horrendous night, and she felt awkward wearing Leo's clothing, with pants that were too long and a waist that did not quite fit her hips. She had to leave them open, her blacksmith belt the only thing keeping them from falling to her ankles. Her wings did not allow her to fit in one of his shirts without ruining it, so she wore a jacket that was unable rise above her feathery appendages with a blanket to cover her bared shoulders. Her hair was disheveled, her broken wing uncomfortable in the bandages Leo had applied…. She felt a mess, and the last thing she wanted to do was deal with this crowd. Leo would understand. He'd have to.
Just as she was steeling her resolve of the matter, her ears caught the sudden scraping of chairs on the floor. Turning her head, she spied a group abandoning a table. Grumbling about her ill-gotten luck, Zephyr moved quickly, barely giving the party enough time to depart before she slid into one of the chairs, her back against the wall and herself in plain view of a window. Tossing her gloves on the table, she reset the blanket around herself—it was of Mexican design, though she didn't know that, only that it was colorful and comfortable despite its coarseness—and heaved a sigh. If she was forced to stay awhile in this overcrowded café, at least she had a clear view of the outside. It relieved her tension a bit.
Wind rattled the window pane beside her. Her eyes strayed to look outside, hoping Leo wouldn't tarry long. She didn't know how many chairs were set around the table, and she hoped no one would ask to join her.
It took whatever remained of Nyra's strength to resist slamming the windowed cafe door behind her as she rushed inside, her arms clenched to her sides and shivers wracking her body. Honestly, she had thought staying out with Oku wouldn't be a problem. He had shared food, which sated her protesting stomach well enough. But that was before the wind had picked up - and then they had parted ways, leaving the cold to replace his quiet warmth at her side.
Needless to say, the beckon of warm lights and bodies was irresistible when she spotted this place from a distance. Now that she was here, though, she almost wished she had thought things through better. Almost. It was considerably warmer in here than outside, and that made it all just worth it.
However, she knew nobody, she had no 'munny', and best yet, she stuck out like a sore thumb with her bare shoulders and arms. For the first time since leaving the crew for this wintery world Nyra was beginning to feel like she was in for trouble. It didn't help that all the tables seemed occupied by at least one bundled soul, as if the cafe was forcing newcomers into interaction with one another. The prospect seemed less appealing to Nyra in her current state.
Scanning the room with rising irritation, Nyra's gaze finally landed upon the only other sight that seemed as out of place as her. A girl with - oddly enough - large wings, as well as scraps of ill-fitted clothing, huddled under a strangely patterned blanket at one table. Taking a breath, Nyra made her way towards her.
"Hey," she said as she scraped back the adjacent seat. The atmosphere of the crowd was actually relaxing her, and her muscles untensed as they warmed. "You don't mind if I sit? Nippy out there, huh?"
There was a pause as they considered each other. My lips are very likely blue, she thought suddenly, curiously. Up until then, Nyra had very little experience with this kind of cold. More like none.
Oku's were blue. Where's a spoon or something around here. . . ?
Dec 26, 2012 2:27:57 GMT -4
Last Edit: Dec 26, 2012 2:41:27 GMT -4 by Zephiris
With her eyes on the window and time to spare waiting for Leo, Zephyr relaxed, shifting in her chair and losing herself in her thoughts. She was still having trouble accepting the previous night's events—it was hard to carry the weight of an entire world's destruction on one's shoulders, and what happened thereafter had been … unsettling, to say the least. Leo had called those creatures Heartless, the ones who had brought about Tamerra's demise. A fitting name, despite Leo's belief that it belied their nature. Zephyr did not agree. Manifestations of a heart's darkness. Zephyr pondered over what Leo had told her, what she had learned. She wondered briefly why they had targeted her world, but then, she had to admit she knew a lot of jerks.
Her reverie was broken at the sound of screeching chair legs. Startled, Zephyr jumped, a rosy tinge blossoming her cheeks at being caught off guard, and then again at showing it. She must have been more unnerved than she gave herself credit. Taking a short moment to compose herself, Zephyr realized with pathetic grace that this person was not Leo, and what was worse, had asked her a question. Her mind raced trying to figure out what had been said to her, her mouth slack and her eyes wide as she tried to recall the words. Something about sitting with her, and … Gnippy? she thought.
"No," she said. Despite the empty chairs, they were occupied, and as such there was no room to fit her. "And what? Gnippy?"
Zephyr squinted at the girl still standing by the chair. Too far away too see properly, the winged girl leaned in on the table, narrowing her eyes so much her entire face scrunched up. Though she could not pick out the finer details like her blue lips or her specific manner of dress, she could see the way she shivered, and as such could make assumptions.
Had this girl been caught out in the cold? Without a ruble to her name or a proper coat to cover herself? She hadn't bought anything or she'd be carrying something, and her arms at her sides told her otherwise. Was she a refugee like herself, and more, had she come from Tamerra as well? Suddenly Zephyr was incredibly interested in this new face, and despite her anxiety on sharing seats, she cocked her head, peering up at her in curiosity, fingers splayed on the table. Slowly and deliberately, she asked a question. "Who are you? Where do you hail from?"
Dec 26, 2012 12:12:04 GMT -4
Last Edit: Dec 26, 2012 14:34:50 GMT -4 by Bluebird
Nyra glanced around the room. For that moment, nobody was here or heading towards her. Yes, very likely, considering the sheer mass of bodies around here, these chairs were occupied. . . but where else was she to sit? With a shrug, Nyra took her seat anyway, with uncharacteristic awkwardness due to the numbness of her limbs.
"Uh, what?" The other girl had misunderstood her offhand comment. Nyra blinked. "I said - oh, never mind."
Nyra sat back a bit and rubbed her arms to get the blood flowing. She was currently under heavy scrutinization by the other girl, whose face was scrunched in the effort. Nyra looked back with her golden eyes calmly, curiously. She had purple hair, which was new for Nyra despite all the odd hairstyles and colors she had encountered since she had fallen. Nyra's own hair was up in its usual, long and messy ponytail (although for the first time in a long while Nyra almost wanted to let it down - if only to keep her neck warm).
What was most fascinating about this girl, though, was her large white wings. Upon second look Nyra realized one was injured, partially hidden beneath wraps. She was about to ask about it when the violet-haired girl spoke first. Her tone of voice sounded different.
"Who are you? Where do you hail from?"
Nyra arched an eyebrow at the directness, but she grinned as she answered, "Name's Nyra. I'm from Tamara, seventh district."
Not that it would have any relevance to this girl. . . unless, by some slim chance, she knew of her world. Personally, Nyra doubted it. Unless the wings were fake and she was from a richer central district, where the residents were lighter-boned and paler-skinned by heritage, she had to be from somewhere else. It didn't look like she was a Traverse native, either.
Suddenly Nyra was hit by their situation. Two hopelessly dressed girls, likely lost and surrounded by strangers, both cold and out of place in the cheerful surroundings. It wasn't a funny predicament. But warmth had infused Nyra and returned her energy, and for some reason she felt comfortable and glad that she had found this winged girl. She had gotten so used to constant companionship the past few weeks that it felt odd to be rendered independent. Which in itself was strange; she'd never been bothered by being alone before. In fact, she used to revel in it.
Zephyr's jaw dropped, her eyes wide in disbelief. Had she heard right? Did this girl really just name Tamerra? The pronunciation had been different, yes, but everyone had their own dialect. Tamerra. It was true, she had said it. Zephyr was sure of it. Unable to contain herself, she pulled herself into her chair more quickly than she intended, wincing as her broken wing caught on the chair's backing. It had a sobering effect. Calm, she had to be calm. It would not do for another of her world to see her so uncouth and undignified. However, her excitement betrayed her. Feathers rustling, her body shaking in exhilaration, the girl was positively giddy. Tamerra. Nyra was from Tamerra.
Trying in vain to compose herself, Zephyr's mind raced, wondering which of the Elements she belonged to and what the "Seventh District" meant. She was no Aeristocrat, that was for sure. Nyra's lack of wings told her as much. What, then? Flammaling? She could not see the reflective scales on her skin, but they could easily have been covered by her clothing, and her shivering would fit one who lived close to Fire. Aquarian? Zephyr knew they could shape shift and form legs on land, but then she wouldn't be so cold. Aquarians were used to frigid temperatures swimming in the depths of the sea. Perhaps it was different outside their Element. Terran, like Leo? She hadn't noticed feline ears or a tail, but then, Zephyr wouldn't have been able to anyway. She wanted to touch her arms, see if she had fur, but civility held her back. She doubted Nyra was a Terran, anyway. They were too barbaric and nomadic to form districts. No, that was something more appropriate for a Flammaling or an Aquarian.
Zephyr laughed, a joyous sound that she didn't think she was capable of making after last night. She had found another Tamerran. It was unbelievable. "I'm Zephyr," she said, giggling. Unable to contain her excitement, she gripped the end of the table, forming an anchor to the sudden energy that surged inside her. She was glad now this girl—this Tamerran—had seen through her lie and sat down next to her. She had so many questions to ask.
"What happened? Where were you? They caught me by surprise out in the woodlands. I was alone…" At this, she averted her eyes, her smile fading into a grimace. "…for the most part." It was only a second, but then she was back to her grinning, excited self. "What about you? Were you … with anyone? Oh Ancestors, I can't believe I found you! The Elements certainly weave remarkable threads, don't they?" She laughed again. It was all too quick for Nyra to insert a word in edgewise.
In the slight pause that followed her giddy interrogation, Zephyr took a gamble. She hadn't wanted to ask this, but she was too curious, too excited, and she supposed letting it show how uncultured she was was worth it. Asides, it would tell her more of which Element had borne Nyra without having her outright say it. "What's the Seventh District? I'm not familiar with it."
"Wait. . . wait, do you mean you are, too?" Nyra gaped.
She took another good look at this girl - Zephyr, she had introduced herself. Her hair must be dyed. She'd never known anyone with anything other but dark hair in her district, but she heard that in some of the others hair grew long and pale. Was purple a fashion in the more central districts?
More importantly, how had she survived? Nyra figured it was just her height that had saved her, having nearly reached the top of the wall when the dark clouds had come. This girl must have been climbing, too, then. But then what was with those wings? Is that how she ruined them? How could they be real? How would Nyra know anyway - she'd hadn't gone outside the seventh district since she was little, she couldn't even make it over the Wall! For all she knew the citizens of the Citadel were all fish - or birds, in this girl's case.
Zephyr's energy was contagious, and the buzzing in Nyra's veins threatened to have her leaping out of her seat, or bursting into laughter; but her mind tempered as the other continued to speak. More and more things didn't make sense. Ancestors? Elements? Were these reference to some kind of religion? Tamara's culture was that of modern caste and philosophy, the Citadel had put little to no emphasis on religion for years. . . . As Nyra listened, her heart felt heavier than even before she had given her name. Zephyr's accent was nothing like she had ever heard before, either, even starkly different from the diverse tones of visiting Citadel officials, or the merchants and representatives from other districts.
Zephyr still laughed, giddy with excitement. By contrast, Nra's expression was gradually darkening. She kept watching, though; she waited for a pause in the violet-haired girl's breathless questioning. It came sooner than Nyra expected. Likely her face betrayed her thoughts.
Before she said anything she had to make sure.
"The District Seven. . ." Nyra began gingerly. "We call it the District of Disorder sometimes? We're part of the main city, on the far side of our Wall there's just a bunch of land for the resource working districts. And some woodlands, I suppose."
All children learn of the structure of Tamara in tertiary school.
Zephyr could not have been in the woods when the darkness fell, either. That would mean she's either from District Nine or a wildling. Which Nyra knew wasn't the case - this girl was far too fair and far too light.
"Zephyr, I'm sorry," Nyra said, leaning back in the chair and looking away. "I think we're talking about different worlds."
Still caught in the wave of excitement at finding another of her kind, a dim light fluttered in Zephyr's heart, warm and humble as it filled a void inside her she once thought lost. It was with a sense of hope that the young Aeristocrat believed her world had not been completely destroyed, that somehow a piece of it still remained, and all she had to do was find it. But then Nyra expressed doubt, and the light inside Zephyr's heart flickered and went out.
"What are you talking about?" the winged girl asked, her face giving a lopsided grin. "Don't be silly."
Her excitement had blinded her; she had not heard what Nyra had said, or rather, twisted the words to hear what she wanted to hear. The Seventh District was a strange place with a chilling name, and Nyra's description made it all the more odd, but it fit what Zephyr knew of the Fire Race like an incorrect puzzle piece that had been mashed into the board because it could not fit anywhere else. She knew they lived underground, close to volcanoes and other seismic locales. Giving it the name "District of Disorder" just meant her site had more activity than most. The Wall was just that, a volcanic rise or a large fault. Or so she told herself.
Neither did Zephyr notice the way Nyra had become more reserved, the doubts she held in her face or the withdrawn demeanor she took in her seat. Only the way she spoke, choosing her words carefully with a delicate pitch to her tone. That was not enough to convince her.
"The woodlands," Zephyr said, seeking to convince her. "I was there. In the forest, when they attacked me. I was with my Guardians, do you know? The lost art?" She didn't expect her to, but she asked anyway just in the event she might. The winged girl even went so far as to proffer one of her bangles to Nyra, feeling the metal for the etched symbol so she had it upright and in plain view. "Animals that leave behind symbols as Gateways. You've never seen something like this? If you record their symbol, you can call them back."
Yet despite her insistence, Nyra's doubt was infectious and Zephyr's own was beginning to take hold of her. Already it had cast its shade when she felt the light flicker out, but she carried on because she thought that if she could convince Nyra it was true, it would be.
"Come on," she said, trying to laugh it off, but it was forced and unnatural. "Tamerra. Ruled by the Elements? Air, Fire, Earth, and Water?"
She had to ask it. It was the only way she'd know for sure. Zephyr didn't care what Nyra would think of her. "Which one are you?"
No, Nyra didn't know the Guardians, or the lost art, or the symbols as Gateways, or the Elements. So she shook her head repeatedly, and gradually Zephyr's laugh turned forced. Nyra heard the difference clearly; it made her wonder why it was such a big deal for this little winged girl. Nyra's transition had been rough, but after the battle with the Large Body and some running around with Zetsu, Ravian, and later the entirety of the Atlantis crew, she had relapsed into her usual excitement regarding new experiences, exploring places, connecting with people. Most of the time she was too distracted to think about it anyway. This was the first time she considered the possibility that others who were torn from their homelands might consider it very differently.
Nyra had been up on the Wall. She had seen the Darkness roll in, but had been too high to make out much else. What might have it been like, being on the ground? Being among family members or friends when the storm hit? Others had told her it was like being enveloped in night, and the Heartless creatures had swarmed like insects, destroying, swallowing. . . she had known none of it, and only learned that is what happened long after she'd accepted the fact that she had lost her home. By then she had made new friends and goals.
She had always been the girl who wished to go outside, she supposed. The other side of the Wall. The other worlds (not that she had known about them then).
Air, Fire, Earth, and Water? Which one are you?
"I'm not any." Nyra said, breaking from her thoughts. The question confused her. "At least, I don't think. I'm decent with wind magic - is that what you're referring to?"
She almost asked which one Zephyr was. Then she remembered the wings.
"Suppose, Zephyr. . ." Nyra began slowly, "That we are talking about different worlds. Would it really be that bad?"
Zephyr's heart broke, shattering into a thousand tiny shards that left an emptiness so vast she thought she might drown in it. It was not what she wanted to hear, not at all, though at this point Zephyr wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Drawing herself further into her chair, the Aeristocrat crossed her arms and averted her gaze to the window, her eyes cold and dark as the emptiness that filled her. "Yes," she said bitterly.
It was bad, more than Nyra could ever imagine. It was true, all of it. Everything Leo had told her, everything she had feared. Her world destroyed, her Guardians, her friends, dead. Zephyr didn't understand it. She didn't understand how someone could be so flippant about the destruction of a world. Would it really be that bad? That was the question asked. Nyra didn't know, she didn't understand. Had there been nothing for her? Nothing she cared for, nothing that cared back? Was there nothing that Nyra would live and die for?
The winged girl blinked, tears stinging her eyes. Everything that had happened, it was true, all of it. All the strength she had regained, the thought that something was there and survived, that it was a brand new day with new discoveries, soiled by Nyra's single dismissive question. A solid lump had settled in Zephyr's throat. She tried to breathe around it but she could already feel the bile rising. The café was cramped, crowded, hot, and noisy as patrons fought for seats and an escape from the cold. The overbearing presence of everyone and everything was pressing down on her, and Zephyr realized for the second time just how small the café truly was. Her ears roared with the din, her senses overloading. She could swear the walls were closing in around her.
Her hand shot out like an arrow, grabbing her discarded gloves on the table as her other rubbed her face, hiding the tears that leaked from her eyes. "I have to go," Zephyr said, her voice cracked and broken. Her chair nearly toppled backwards as she stood in haste, and before Nyra could react Zephyr was already making for the exit, her body and wings knocking against the tables and seated patrons in her abrupt egress. She could hear the grumbling that followed in her wake, but she didn't care. All she wanted was a breath of fresh air.
Throwing the door open, Zephyr slowed, finally managing to breathe around the knot in her throat. She thought she was strong, that she could take anything the Elements dished out to her. She had done a fair job thus far given the hand she was dealt, but she had never imagined this. The chill was welcoming, fresh and soothing from the stuffy atmosphere of the café. She took a few steps, vaguely aware of light snowflakes that drifted around her. She was fine. Everything was fine. She just had to keep it together. She'd figure something out, figure out how to cope, how to live without Jispo, without her Guardians, her only friends, that were now dead, destroyed in a horrendous attack of darkness and shadows that had swallowed them all whole. She remembered. She remembered the pool of inky blackness that had engulfed her, how she had fallen through the forest floor, tendrils of darkness clutching at her as her Guardians died around her.
She took another step; her leg buckled. Her hands barely had enough time to catch her as she fell, her knees jarring against the impact. The world was cold, the ground hard as she pressed her head against the rough cobblestones. Wrapping her good wing around herself, Zephyr drew a deep, shuddering breath and screamed.