OPEN/MINGLE — SMASHING GARDENS

[fujin]

[ Meanwhile, in the middle of the desert......

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object? Who knows. This is more like two old, rusted Chevys trading flirting touches at low speeds. Galbadia Garden and Balamb Garden are careening into one another in a way that some of you might find all too familiar.

Maybe this happened years ago for you, maybe it hasn't happened yet, maybe you had no business being in these crazy hoverships in the first place, but regardless. You're here now and it's time to brace for impact. This one will be an even bigger problem, because there's no one at the helm of these ships. It's as if they've developed a will of their own and driven themselves into one another, sending both vessels careening into the boiling sands below.

Luckily, these things are as hardy as they are ancient. They'll both need new paint jobs and extracurricular activities will be out of the question for some time, but when the dust clears, everything is mostly intact. The Gardens will fly again. Someday.

Anyway, this is your chance to mingle somewhere that isn't Midgar. Both Gardens are smushed together, accessible through Galbadia Garden's basketball court. Maybe you want to organize a search and rescue. Or start doing damage assessment and making repairs. Maybe you wanna do some figure skating on the definitely not demon-infested hockey rink. Whatever you want, congrats, you're not in Midgar anymore. ]

Comments

[atoysoldier]

( Cloud has no idea how he got here, or where exactly "here" was. Yet, that wasn't what mattered. Not when it came down to it. What mattered was he was in line, in the cafeteria, to order some of Balamb's famous hot dogs. Or, as advertised, by an outrageously outspoken blond with a face tattoo that probably made his mother cry. Cloud knew he didn't belong here, of course, but he was quite comfortable in that fact as well. Like it was a secondary, or third -- possibly fifteenth issue behind other dilemmas that prodded for his attention.

Like getting some of these fucking hot dogs. )

Hey, the line is moving...move.

[fujin]

[ Honestly, Fujin doesn't even want a hot dog. She knows enough about the operations behind the scenes at Garden to know she doesn't want anything to do with what happens behind those kitchen doors. But from time to time, she still likes to make appearances here, if only to keep the peace. (By inciting a scene and striking the fear of god into the hearts of the student body.)

And this student? Fujin doesn't know him. She marches right up to him, whaps him on the shoulder, and sticks out her hand, palm up. ]

ID. SHOW.

[atoysoldier]

( The upturned palm is regarded with heavy eyes, his shoulder still throbs from where he was struck. His vibrant eyes raise to the visible one on the gray-haired girl's face. One blonde brow spikes, and he cocks his head. Her request was clear, concise, and efficient. Perhaps the people here believed full sentences were a waste of time, as well as pleasantries.

He could respect that.

He fishes out a detailed coin from his pocket and hands it over without overthinking it. He felt obligated, at least, to offer the woman something. What he gave her was a Moogle medal. He felt confident enough that the token would satisfy her. )

[fujin]

[ Fujin's cycloptic stare descends upon the token in her hand. She turns it over, watches it glint. There's a fucking Moogle on it.

Yeah, no. ]

HILARIOUS.

[ She still pockets it. You know. Just in case. But once that is done, she's motioning for Cloud to turn around. ]

COME.

[atoysoldier]

( He feels.. Unsafe? He paid his toll, and she was threatening to take him out of line. He folds his arms and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. )

You taking me to the front of the line? If not, forget it.

( He wants a piece or two of these amazing hot dogs. )

looks you dead in the eyes

[petitepistol]

[Look Elena's sweaty, she's tired, she's pretty sure someone took her suit jacket and all she has left in the world are these hot dogs apparently. So forgive her for--]

Don't tell me what to do! Some of us can't decide if we want to have bad breath now or constantly, judging from your voice--

[a pause. she turns around]

Oh. Hey, Cloud.

the dogs brings them together, the hot keeps them together...?

[atoysoldier]

( He knew exactly who this was before she even turned around. He had a passive thought the person in front of him was a kid--

Which was understandable being that Elena was the size of a twelve-year-old. However, seeing her here gave him a weird sense of misplacement. Like seeing Rufus on the cover of some well-to-do environmentalist magazine. Her response to him, what a drag. )

Oh? What are you doing? ( He steps up to her, his eyes move (easily) over her head to the line which was moving right along. )

and the hot dog water is a good soup....i guess?

[petitepistol]

[that's incredibly rude, seeing Elena anywhere differently should be a delight and a privilege. this is like seeing Cloud in a kid's cafeteria....oh wait, it's exactly that.

She indicates the different fixings for the hotdogs]

Just trying to figure out what to put on here, that's all.

[oroight]

[ When Fang finds the dunes, she figures that she's close to finding her way back to Ruffian. It's been days of navigating by the stars and by guesswork, so it's more of an empty hope than anything else, but it's what she's got, anyway. Nothin' for it now but to press forward until she finds something.

And find something she does. At first, she isn't sure what she's seeing. It doesn't register until she hears the screech of steel grinding against steel and lifts up her gaze just in time to see those two monstrous vessels blotting out the sun. She watches them twirl in the air and it hits her—she's gotta run, and she's gotta run fast.

She turns on her heels, but already the storm is nipping at them, rising like a wave behind her. She's quickly overtaken, which means those gigantic monstrosities are close behind. Fuck it. The odds have been worse before. She takes a leap of faith and hopes she lands somewhere that isn't going to immediately crush itself into the ground.

She finds herself clinging to the ledge of what is now a second story window. The glass has shattered, and she can see inside that it's some sort of classroom. Or was—everything within has shifted now towards the front of the room, piled up as high as the ceiling. All it takes to snap her back to her senses is the image of a little arm sticking out from under the rubble, which galvanizes her to hop through the window, vaulting off her spear. ]

Hold on!

[ Fang rushes in and starts heaving desks and chairs out of the pile they've fallen into at a frantic pace. Who knows what kind of damage has been done to the people trapped beneath? ]

Almost there, I've got ya!

[praecepti]

[Ending up in places one shouldn't be isn't really a foreign endeavor to Quistis-- nor is ending up in the past, for that matter.

But this? This is-- decidedly different. She doesn't remember any headaches, no passing out, no time warping in on itself. Not at all. It'd been an innocuous trip up the elevator, like always-- until the doors dinged open and a cacophony of screams erupted through the hall. Instinct propelled Quistis forward, a horrible sense of deja vu dawning on her the moment she caught a glimpse outside. Galbadia Garden was hurtling towards them.

She only had enough wherewithal to lunge down the hall towards the terrified screams - Children are trapped up here! - and gently usher them out from under the desks. Two of them take her instruction, running out into the hall into the arms of one of the older students. The last stood petrified towards the front of the classroom, shaking like a leaf. Quistis bolted, scooping the girl up--

BANG!

The gardens hit, metal screams, and Balamb starts lurching. She doesn't have time to get outside the classroom-- so she does what she can with the time she does have. Quistis shields the child with her body and throws up a quick barrier. It's just enough to keep them both from being irreversibly crushed by the onslaught of desks and chairs. As it is, they end up slammed into the wall and buried underneath the pile.

It's hard to gauge injuries, but everything in Quistis' body aches, harsh and throbbing. She took the brunt of that avalanche, but it's not for her own safety that she's worried. To her relief, she can feel the girl stirring beside her, clinging desperately to her vest. Movement is a good sign. She manages a quiet:] It's okay-- I'm here. You'll be alright, I promise.

[If only she could move! Quistis does her best to shift, testing the weight against them-- surely at least one of the desks can give. If nothing else, just enough to free the girl. And then-- Hold on! --A voice? Is someone coming to their rescue?

Sure enough, she can hear desks being hoisted up and thrown off to the side. Light seeps in through their little gap between the desks and the wall. Quistis squints and sees--

Oh-- a stranger? A woman-- with wild green eyes and even wilder dark hair. And... a tattoo and garb she doesn't even remotely recognize. How strange. She's certainly not from Balamb or Galbadia or-- anywhere she can readily think of, really. Not that it matters, mind you. Rescue is rescue and-- well, the way she's throwing desks around with ease is quite breathtaking. (Or maybe that's just from having the wind knocked out by a wall of desks, who knows.) Nevertheless, Quistis' heart batters around in her rib cage quite suddenly (the adrenaline must be catching up to her, surely) and it takes her a moment to remember herself-- to realize that she's lying there, staring open-mouthed up at their rescuer.

Good heavens, now is not the time. Tear your eyes away, Quistis. Leave the admiration for the muscle-bound feats of strength and awe-stricken gaping for later.] Oh-- thank you!

[The little girl is able to wriggle out without too much trouble, face stained with flushed cheeks and tears. She seems torn between staring up at the stranger herself and looking urgently at Quistis, bravely trying to fight back her sniffles to sputter out a concerned, 'Quisty! Please help Quisty!']

I'm alright. I-- think my leg is caught.

[oroight]

[ Fang's not wasting any time here. She's creating a big pile of discarded debris as she tears through the rubble, ignoring the ache in her fingers, the burn in her arms. Damn, but this shit is heavy. Her stomach sinks when she thinks about the kid trapped beneath, how easily she could be crushed past the threshold where a Cure or two will set her right as rain.

But no. This one's got a guardian angel, it seems, because the kid is up and on her feet the moment Fang pulls her out. She offers a hand to help her find her legs again, but she's yelling, begging her to save—

Aha. There she is. The Guardian Angel herself. Fang hoists another desk out of the way and leans in to get a better look at the situation here. Seems like two steel beams got crossed somewhere during impact and the amplified force between them is going to be something to contend with. They're doing a great job keeping down their captive, who is...

Stunning. Blue eyes. Golden hair. One endlessly long leg trapped beneath the wreckage. This woman just went through a two world-ending collisions in rapid succession, but she still has a certain poise, an air of sophistication. A rare breed of beauty, that's for sure.

Fang flashes a smile. ]

Hang on there, Angel. Have ya out in a jiff, won't we?

[ She spares a hand to ruffle the kid's hair before she goes back to figuring this one out. Cross the beams and the snapping torque would likely sever Quistis in half. That leaves just one option, which is grabbing either end of them, gritting her teeth, and shooting her a confident wink. You know, to keep her calm while she growls and pours every last ounce of strength she's got into pulling that formidable weight off of Quistis, slow and steady, until it's high enough for her to slip her leg free. ]

[praecepti]

[Oh my.

One flash of a smile, one 'Hang on there, Angel, and Quistis feels quite like she could melt and slide right out from under this nasty predicament with ease. Her rescuer is good with kids to boot, it seems like. The girl manages a little giggle when her hair is ruffled, seemingly put at ease by this stranger's confident show of strength. Quistis has to admit, she's fairly impressed herself.

Fang circles around, studying the debris-- and Quistis opens her mouth, ready to utter an objection, but she finds herself cut off by a wink and another incredible show of strength.

This time, Quistis has the presence of mind not to gawk too much. She'll wriggle her way out from under the rubble as soon as she's able; she knows better than to abuse her good fortune. It's not a pretty sight, her leg. She's gained a few ugly bonks and cuts on her noggin and her arms, too. Enough that she'll just-- stay sitting on the floor for a minute, if you please. Better her than the child, though. A sigh of relief whisks past her lips, and--] Oh! [She's met with a hug from the little girl, to whom she gives a reassuring and gentle squeeze in return.] You were very, very brave. I'm so proud of you.

And you-- [She turns her head to properly drink in the sight of their savior this time, a perfectly stricken and grateful smile smoothing out her lips.] You're nothing short of incredible, aren't you? I'm in your debt.

fat baby noctis / ota

[conjurations]

[ fast asleep in the sand, nestled curiously somewhere in-between the wreckage of the two gardens, is a lost prince. there is not a scratch on him. he is not injured. he was not aboard either garden, nor was he anywhere near the crash site at the time of landing. (he was in fact at the nearby gold saucer and had only just recently taken the ropeway and exited from corel, headed toward the desert to hunt some more sand monsters for extra gil to keep playing games with.) he is just There, inexplicably, having a really deep, undisturbed snooze. he's quite comfortable. and quite difficult to rouse. does... does he need help?

Who Knows. ]

[beenhad]

[ We were somewhere around Barstow... on the edge of the desert... when the drugs... began to take hold.

Not really. There are no good drugs in this desert. Tseng has investigated this matter thoroughly. But he does feel like he's high when his trusty chocobo reels back with anxious tension and he lifts his gaze to the sky to see two... ships? They're unlike anything he's ever seen before, no logical manner of propulsion, no mako-fueled conttrails trailing in their wake. They're simply in the sky, and then they're not. He watches their descent from afar and clicks his tongue to get the bird going again. She's not happy about wading through the dust storm, but hey. As far as he can remember, he's an assassin. What does he care about how comfortable a stupid bird is?

He makes his rounds and finds the Gardens mostly intact. But he's no slouch. He sees hardware for shuttle launches, spies the organized bustle of people moving within the vessels, and recognizes precisely what these things are meant to be. Mobile military operations.

He'll need backup, then. No need to bother Desk Tseng or Door Rude with this one; there's only one man for the job.

He pings Reno with his location coordinates and a simple text: ]

Hurry. Make yourself cute.

[electroburst]

[ Reno's been busy. Turns out, taking over as stand-in(?!) director of the shadows of the free world's squeaky clean image isn't as boring as it looked from the other side of the desk, but that's also because everything that has anything to do with everything is Fucky with a capital Fuck. Not just Turk shit. Not just Shinra shit. Not just Midgar shit. Just shitty shit in general. Whatever, it's cool. He's fine. He's let his hair down, since that's literally, not metaphorically, what you do when you're the boss now, and he's running this flying trash can full of flaming baby diapers straight into the sun. As is his duty.

He wasn't expecting to hear from Tseng so soon. He has just finished cleaning up the fucking pathetic patrol that has left Junon unchecked since it became part of Midgar for far, far too long, fresh off the euphoric high of executing Chirpy in a manner so frankly disturbing, I dare not speak of it here in this meta text. When he gets the message, hurry, he doesn't hesitate for a second. He doubles up the detail on Rufus's quarters, puts Rude (Rude Who Remembers To Match His Socks Still Rude) in place at the helm and runs home to change. Trades the uniform for an outfit as if he's going to the Gold Saucer (these coordinates don't match that, but they do match the area), tight slacks and a tank top and a pair of oversized sunglasses that go on his head instead of the goggles and not on his face, naturally (and something cute underneath all that, for just in case). Ditches the rod for the sword strapped across his back and leaves in the boots Tseng gave him the day he left, then heads on down to the garage pits. Trades a favor for a kiss and peals out in the fastest thing on wheels he can comfortably drive to what he recognizes as the Corel area desert, which means offroading, which means a fucking dirtbike, baby.

In retrospect, he should have tied his hair back. Pthtpthtthppththhppthptht.

When he gets close, he hardly needs to be told what it is he's looking for, because he sees it. He sees it from miles away and if not for the fact that it's Tseng who called for him, he would be getting on the horn to deploy what are now his men (more or less) to get the hell out here and survey. But instead he approaches alone, bike motor humming as he bumps along across the dunes and circles wide around the area, surveying with one eye, following the gps to Tseng's spot with the other. When he stops, straddling the bike, he lights a smoke, sticks it in his mouth. And then a second one, which he holds onto. ]

[beenhad]

[ Tseng has fashioned a makeshift forward operating base with what he's got, which isn't much. There's a hastily put-together fire pit to make it through the night if he needs it, a haphazard and yet astoundingly sturdy lean-to for shelter, but mostly, he's working with a base of nothing. If he could remember what he's forgotten, he'd feel at peace out here like this, like he's getting back to his roots. But he doesn't, so mostly he just feels uncomfortable.

It's been a solid week and some change of roaming the world and discovering what lays beyond the boundaries of the things he's always known. So far, not a single disappointment along the way. And this one, he's hoping, will be a huge win. Imagine, bringing this kind of tech back to Shinra? Reno would be a fucking legend. Scarlet would eat her own fist. That Turk autonomy he always wanted would be all but bought and paid for. They just need to work the right angle and the sky's literally the limit.

But first, the hard part.

By the time Reno rolls up, Tseng has his shirt soaked with water from his canteen and tied around his forehead to ward off the sun and heat. He'd traded the suit for desert-printed fatigues before his jaunt into the desert. The flak jacket and tech belt are laid out beneath the lean-to, which he's thinking will make a suitable enough presentation for what is obviously a militant operation. The chocobo warks in alarm when the dirt bike comes roaring in, and Tseng automatically reaches for his gun until the figure on the bike resolves itself as Reno.

Even then, he doesn't put it away. ]

The garage isn't trading kisses for choppers anymore, I take it.

[ He smirks, eye on that cigarette. Gimme. ]

[electroburst]

[ Give him a moment to free his hair from his face. Oh god, it's everywhere. It's in his mouth. Pthtpthtptht.

Alright. Down goes the kickstand, over goes the leg, and to Tseng goes the second cigarette. He might be smiling a little wider if not for the chocobo—you know how he feels about chocobos—but he gives it no attention as he makes his way over, taking in the details of what he can see of this makeshift operation from this angle. Good. Then this is exactly what he thought as he rode up here. ]

I didn't want to make too much of an entrance.

[ There's time for niceties and shit later. He's very interested in the job, and not in flinging himself at Tseng and begging for stories of how freedom is treating him. Well, alright, he's interested in that, too, but he's been so focused lately, might as well keep riding that high. He traps his hair in his hand and lets it go once it's all gathered aside, so the whipping desert wind keeps it over his shoulder and not in his eyes. ]

When did this happen? Fill me in.

this stupid blond

[ambitiousblond]

[Sure, there had been precautions taken to keep Rufus protected but Rufus had his own ideas. Reno increasing his guard detail was a bit of a problem but he had left them behind with assurances to Rude that he was just going to see Roche. He had left Dark Nation with Roche with assurances that he was going out with Rude somewhere.

There was something happening and with Tseng having mysteriously vanished and Reno being unable (or unwilling? he couldn't tell either way) he decides to just steal an unmarked car and skip town. He had stolen a pair of Rude's sunglasses to use as a 'disguise', proud of himself by the time he reached the Gardens.

He's ready to explore this strange new thing since he's never seen anything like this before and he's going to enjoy his (perhaps temporary) freedom away from Midgar.]

[dicksiplinary]

[ "... Sir..." one of Seifer's entourage is saying. Seifer can see him loosening his collar out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn't blink. Doesn't move.

"Sir." Another one speaks up. Still. He's still like a placid lake, focused as a beam of light through a crystal.

"Sir!!" They're getting antsy now. A car (unmarked, apparently) is speeding toward them, trailing billowing curtains of dust in its wake. Seifer stands his ground, the blade of the Hyperion aloft, waiting.

At once, all the soldiers scatter. That just leaves him, smirking as the car speeds nearer, tense and ready.

The second Rufus drives by, he strikes. The tires are cut with one quick flash. The adamantine slices through his rims like butter. The drive shaft jams immediately, spinning the whole vehicle out. Seifer rushes up to the driver side window and raps on it with the handle of his blade. ]

Joyride's over, punkass. Hands up, nice 'n' slow now.

[ambitiousblond]

[Well, the car is ruined. Not like it's any real loss for the company but it does leave him without a way back. Well, he'll figure that out when he comes to that. He has his phone on him, the Turks will eventually track him down at least.

He rolls down the window, tipping his sunglasses down his nose slightly. He doesn't recognize this man but that's not strange. What is strange is that Seifer seems not to recognize him.

Punkass? Must be the sunglasses.]

I really liked this car, I assume you'll pay for the damages.

[Fuck this car, when he gets back to Midgar he'll see if Reno will be any more flexible on giving him his own car than Tseng was. Though, that wasn't looking promising so far.]

[dicksiplinary]

[ Seifer stands by, Hyperion slung across his shoulder, as Rufus rolls down the window. He lets Rufus's reply hit him, and then bursts into snorting laughter. ]

Oh yeah. I got your gil right here, buddy.

[ The soldiers are exchanging glances behind him, unsure. That is, until Seifer lifts Hyperion again, cocking back the hammer of its pistol, the rest of his entourage drawing on Rufus too. ]

Hands up. Wouldn't want a tragic accident, now would we...?

[petitepistol]

[she's getting tired of waking up in vastly unfamiliar places. it's one thing when you wake up the first morning of a trip and you forget you're there, it's entirely different when you're staring at two..airships? What used to be two, out in the middle of the dessert, crumbled together like two smashed lego concoctions.

But Elena can't focus on that now. She's got ideas as to the whys and hows, and this is the perfect time to try and blend in, ear to the proverbial ground. But there are distressed kids running around. This comes first.

Run into Elena tending injuries, materia hot in her hands and a snappy comment to the youths that have complaints about how quickly she sends them back out there; find her digging through debris, eyes narrowed for the tiniest hint of life, taking note of just how impressive this tech is even in shambles, withdrawn. when she does take a break it's just for some water, a moment to sit down, rapid-firing text updates in concentrated bursts. But if her attention is caught, you've got it for the moment.]

[fujin]

[ Fujin's in the hall during impact, overseeing the organization efforts over in the dormitories. It isn't so bad, but one of the underclassmen in the area takes an unlucky spill head-first into a railing—and then it's chaos from there.

The instant they make landfall, there's a stampede in the halls. Fujin barely manages to keep the kid from getting trampled, hoisting her to her feet, hastening her out of the way. She's blinking slow and bleeding from the head. No way that she can move on her own.

And Fujin is fresh out of Curagas.

She staggers her way through the current of the crowd, slowed by the burden of the classmate on her back, and quickly happens upon... whatever is going on here. Materia? What's that? All Fujin knows is that green aura looks close enough to para magic and that's good enough to start making demands. She presents the kid like an offering, thrust at Elena and held aloft. ]

HEAL.

[petitepistol]

[Elena wasn't exactly expecting a student with a head wound thrust under her nose but you know, the more the merrier. She barely bats an eye at the brisk way she's ordered, just shoves the materia at the girl and waits for the gentle energies to wash over as it leaves her and closes the jagged wound.]

Okay. Okay, this should do it...head wounds bleed a lot, but still, it's better to just nip this in the bud.

[it doesn't take long, and though there's a bit of a mark leftover and blood is truly everywhere it looks a lot better. Sitting back to look at her work, Elena offers the girl a smile, then levels it at Fujin]

It'll be fine! Just rest a bit, no more exciting stuff for today and you'll be alright.

[fujin]

[ Seriously. What the hell is that thing?

First thing's first. Fujin spins the (already dizzy) girl around and checks her over, like she's reviewing answers on a test. Elena passes, apparently, because she immediately drops her hands away from the girl and demands: ]

WALK?

[ The girl nods, and scurries over to a forming crescent of crowded students. Two of them immediately reach out to steady her.

Fujin rounds on Elena, thrusting a finger at the orb in her hand. ]

EXPLAIN.