Experience the Memory of the OC Above You! [IC]

You find yourself in what you can only describe as a ravaged battlefield. Blood is splattered across the grasses of the dark swamp, several figures lay in agony on the ground, and... two figures stand out in particular. A kneeling woman with blonde hair and holy magic circling around her... and a warrior in bronze armor, laying down with a sword stuck in her abdomen.
Although the two speak in Celestial to keep those around them from prying, you still understand every word. Oh, the two know each other... you soon find out their identities: a dying champion by the name of Rhisa, and her younger sister - Ami, she calls her as she hands her a little dagger ("In the army, we carry this to make death on the battlefield painless. Do you understand what you need to do?"). It becomes abundantly clear that even though these two have gone through Hell together, it still hasn't shaken their love for each other - the opposite, actually.
You hear Rhisa speak to Ami as she gently guides her shaking hand to an exposed spot in her armor - even in near-death and while tears flow down her face, she sounds so much like a protector.
"Don't cry for me, I won't be one of his valkyries...! I'll be free... I just want to be known as your sister... I've made a lot of mistakes, but you were worth all of them! I'm... I'm so proud of you... my angel."
With a final "I love you", Ami deals the killing blow and Rhisa dissipates in a pure white light to join the stars... only leaving behind a bracelet and a sword. There's silence for a few moments, as everyone feels the weight of what has just happened...
And then Ami finally lets out the loudest sob of her life, a sound that stuns even the unconscious members of her party.

You find yourself in a town market. The sun shines down upon the world, and the crowd bustles around you as all sorts of merchants sell their wares. This is the New World Market - a project being taken on by a new national government in order to preserve culture in the land.
One shop catches your eye in particular - a simple flower shop, ran by a merfolk woman. The sign in front of it reads "Coralis Florist", and despite the sheer beauty of her bouquets, almost everyone seems to avoid the little building... everyone except for one woman, at least.
You watch as an aasimar lady (Allisriedia) makes her way over to it, curtsying to the merfolk as she reaches the door. The merfolk lets her into the shop with a radiant joy on her face that spreads to you as you watch the scene unfold, and the two drink decadent tea while Isri and the merfolk (Guide, apparently) discuss, among other things, the possibility of Isri being hired here and given a roof over her head.
As the possibility finally becomes reality, Isri breathes a sigh of relief - and for the first time in what has to be several days, she finally allows herself to relax.

You're resting on your back, looking up upon the clear skies. This is the edge of a memory, really. The end, rather than the beginning, yet there is a storm of emotions within, most of it you can't identify, but they are intense to the point of pain.

There's laughter besides you, and you hear someone else lay down and sit, a little behind you, and you slowly sit up in response to face her. She is, by all appearances, just another dragon, with blue hair and bright green eyes, but the sight of her sends a wave of heavy guilt, especially when she turns to face you with a smile. Something tells you that she's too young, and it repeats like a broken record. Too young, too much lost, not enough time, and this torrent seems to taint the memory.

"What do you think do you want to do, after all of this?" she asks, tone curious, resting her chin on her hands and looking into the forest in the distance. "I mean... you're the special one, so I guess you will probably just... be a legend, then."

The memory-you(?) responds by batting her on the head. It's a light tap, playful in nature, yet the memory tears a little at this, and for a moment the sky distorts with the surge of emotion. "I'll still teach you, you dummy. Just because I would be the greatest of the Draconis doesn't mean I'll forget that you're there!"

She makes a face at you in response, even going so far as to stick out her tongue, and her youthfulness grows more apparent with that gesture. "Alright, then. If you say so, o' great Æðelwulf."

The memory rips. As you are thrown back to the waking world, you find an echo of a memory, and this young dragon's pale face, now-lifeless eyes staring at you.

You are looking out on a scene from high, high up in the air. Far below you, you can see what appears to be a bustling carnival, each person casting long shadows against the red-orange light of a setting sun. It is a vibrant, vivid scene, although it is too distant for any of the music and laughter to reach you. Your hands, planted on the glass in front of you, are tiny. You are in a child's body. You turn away from the window, and find that you are in a small, enclosed space: the cabin of a Ferris Wheel, painted all in white save for the windows lining all four sides.

The man seated across from you, a fatherly figure, is a mere silhouette against the cabin's windows, his features obscured by shadows. His tall frame now appears frail and gaunt. Cheeks that were once flushed with life have hollowed, and his skin has taken on a lifeless ashy pallor. Disheveled hair and a patchy stubble cloak his once familiar face. There's a heaviness in the air—a tangible transformation that the young possessor of this memory can sense but not entirely grasp.

His eyes, once filled with warmth and joy, are now distant and haunted. The carnival lights below cast an eerie glow, reflecting in his gaze like distorted memories. You find yourself wrapped in a moment that feels both tender and ominous.

As the Ferris Wheel ascends further into the darkening sky, the father attempts a smile that barely creases his lips. His voice, strained and weary, cuts through the hushed atmosphere. "You're going to succeed where I failed," he whispers, the weight of his words settling in the air like a heavy mist. His thin fingers reach out, grazing your hair with a mixture of affection and desperation.

You hear your dream-self speak. The child's voice is firm with determination, even as it fights against its own bewilderment and confustion. "I will, Dad. I promise." A promise neither side truly understands. And with that, the memory comes to an abrupt halt.

[REVIEW DATA? Y/N]
>Y

"It's a mirror that shows you your true self," The woman speaks with a flourish, and even now, Wizard can't help but note her vivacity and charisma. Everyone was right- she really wasn't a robot. Not like him, anyhow.

"Think of it as a visualization tool. For those of us who have lost our humanity, it can be hard to imagine yourself as... well, anyone at all! It's such a terrible, intimate tragedy- and it's one leaves you feeling so, so alone. But I'm telling you, you don't need to be an object. You can take back your sense of self. You can undo all the brainwashing of your transformation! You can be healed."

His hands tightened around the headset, currently in his lap. His head felt weird without the hat. He took note the neat, evenly spaced chords as they looped around and hooked into the back of the mirror. None of his wires at home were nearly as neat. Most were frayed, many were held together through electrical tape, and some didn't work at all- not that he threw them away. He wasn't good at meeting people's eyes- but he met Josephine's through the mirror, her eager and cheerful expression next to his empty one. He speaks, slow.

"I guess I just... I'm still confused about how it works? You... said it wasn't a mind control device."
Josephine buts in, with a little more force than necessary. "-Oh, no. Nono, we don't have mind control devices here. You're in the land of the free, darling, and that freedom is our highest priority! The oneirotech only reads- it reaches deep down into your soul, and awakens your forgotten wishes. It helps you find that perfect, undamaged you that's been hiding inside all along. And once you have that vision, we'll help you achieve it! Because we care about you. We want you to succeed,"

He taps his fingers on the helmet, hesitating. It was flattering, the whole "soul" talk. He used to think souls were kinda stupid, but, not when she said it. It made him feel like something that was alive. Things were easier when agreeing to something was only a button press away- he keeps waiting for some digital menu to pop up for him to click "accept". When he remembers his body, he finally gives Josephine a nod- and she guides the headse t   o n    t    o      h  I    S           M ]  i  n         D     d /

There is a human-him in his vision. A perfect him. His features pulled up into a smile, he laughs and laughs and makes a room light up with that laughing. He's alive, he's social, he's infectiously joyful and easily social in a way that comforts the people around him. He's going to change the world some day. Do you remember what it was like to change the future? Do you remember having a future? Of course you don't. 
He's thinner. He's happier. He has so many friends. His skin is soft and gives off warmth when you touch it. It's tan with the sun and both his eyes sparkle with a deep dark brown. He is a human, isn't he? He has a family. He has parents. He has people who love him. And if he doesn't, he can find that love, find that family. It's all right there and it's so so close and-

A sharp drowning sensation clogs his throat. Nothing is under his feet. Is he falling? That impossible, perfect perfect perfect human is gone, gutted out of his reality. Before he can comprehend the terror of being nowhere, he is confronted with the terror of being alone- arms flail for something, anything to catch, anything to anchor himself.

The woman's mechanical arms grabs him out of the darkness, and fishes him back to reality. He gags as the headset loosens from his scalp, cathing his breath. 

"There there," She coos. "We'll help you get there. See? It's okay. We'll help you be perfect,"

[LOG CONCLUDES]
>DELETE
[SCRUBBING MEMORY DATA ...  ...  ... ]

A few weeks had passed since the siege. Preparation, and now.. it was the day. Alderic was in his room, standing before a tall full length mirror. His parents were in the room with him, dressed well for a swell occasion. He was too, judging by how Belle affixed his lapel and repinned his swordpin into it, keeping it steady. It also pinned a pale crocus, for Kajalmar. She smiled at her son, cupping his face in his cheek.

Adam, on the other hand, was being much quiet. Much more worried. He was a worrywart, anyway. He kept stealing glances at his watch- not wanting either of them to be late.

"Are you ready?" Belle asked.

He looked . . . so different from the boy who arrived at Ashridge. Different from the angry boy who lost his eye, or the anxious mess that watched the Wondergames with a stomach full of wine. Hell, his stomach was full of butterflies today! But his parents were here -- and he was soothed.

He placed his hand over his mother's, his eyes closing. Who would've thought he'd finally reach this point ? No, what kind of question was that ? Of course he would. He always had it in him -- it was just a matter of when.

And now . . . all that effort was paying off. Months of hard work, growth, and healing, and he was truly ready. The son of Belle and Adam nodded, giving a fond smile to both his parents.

"Yeah. I am. "

Their little family headed out through the castle, until finally they came to the throne room. There was a large crowd before the thrones- perhaps every important person in Vertis-- and seemingly Arendelle were present in this room. Towards the side, in the front, Alderic could spot some of the Vertisian Royal family- Kristoff was there, Ella on his shoulders. Beside him stood Felix, beside a slender woman with pale skin and black hair. He held a little girl- maybe 5- and the woman held a baby, fixxing the swaddle over the baby's ears. There were nobles he recognized- and-- was that a mop of ginger curls among the crowd, moving to the front? yes it was, it was Merida!

There were some other familiar faces, too. Somewhere in the crowd, a pair of dark horns framed a thin sheet of black hair and seafoam skin. A hunter proudly plucked at the string of a complex bow, half shaved head in attendance.

Adam put a hand on Alderic's shoulder, stopping him just as they found themselves infront of the thrones. He turned Alderic to face him, gently, guiding, as a hush fell across the grand hall. "Kneel," Adam softly instructed.

There were so many people here. More, he thought, than he ever expected. The eladrin's eyes drifted to take in every single face, every person who'd supported him since before he knew who he really was. the people who'd held him up, who taught him everything he needed to know to reach this point. The people who had faith in him as a king before he, himself, did.

And as he stood in front of the throne, his heart caught in his chest. He seemed too stunned to speak, on how many people alone were here to watch his big moment.

And, swelling with too many overwhelming feelings to count, he knelt in front of his father.

Adam put a hand atop of Alderic's head. Gentle, paternal.

"For decades," Adam said, his voice booming and filling the room. It was... strange to see such a gentle and softspoken man use his normally fearsome voice for such an affirming declaration. "For decades, Vertis has known nothing but heartbreak. The loss of future, of evidence of unions and love and prosperity, has plagued us since seemingly the dawn of Vertis Itself. From Eden's untimely death, to the deaths of Hailee and Flynn, to the death of Sinclaire Black and Viktor, to the deaths of Hugo and Avaline." He cleared his throat, voice wavering ever so slightly. A gentle whisper broke out- confusion, worry, sadness, fear. "Today, we are having a funeral. We remember the love we've lost, the pain we endured, the fear we lived through... and we mourn its loss, as Vertis- finally- claims a rightful Heir and Inheritor."

Belle handed Adam his son's crown, Adam cleared his throat, standing tall. A beat. He cleared his throat again, and then Cogsworth gasped and scrambled over. He plucked the heavy, fur lined cloak off of Adam's shoulders. "Today, on December Seventh, mere weeks before my son's birthday, we claim and call Alderic Leslie Auclair our Crown Prince and Future King of Vertis."

Adam placed the crown on his head. "We put our trust in his insight,"
Cogsworth put the cloak around his shoulders. "We put our lives under his shield."
Belle handed him a ceremonial sword, gold and gem encrusted. "We put our faith behind his ideals."

Adam then held his hand out to Alderic, to take. "You can get up now," he whispered.

Adam pulled Alderic to his feet. He looked back to the crowd, took a breath, and raised Alderic's hand- the one holding the sword- up into the sky so the blade pointed up.

And, in that moment, the crowd burst into cheers. Alderic! Alderic! Alderic! Vive le prince Aldéric! Vive le Vertis! cheered the Vertisians of Rosehelm. And, before Alderic knew it, people were throwing roses to him. Blue roses. Petals and whole flowers and bouqets. Adam let go of his hand, and just pulled his son into a hug, before letting go for long enough to give him a paternal kiss on the forehead, and then relinquishing him again.

"One last surprise!" belle said, popping up between the two. She put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled. The doors were suddenly opened, and Lumiere came out. "Introducing...!" He did a little twirl, in a show of fire and sparks. "The lovliest, most beautiful, most amazing..." Another flourish. "Most talented, fantstical, wonderful--" Belle cleared her throat. Lumiere chuckled awkwardly. "...Baker. Kajalmar Arnaldr Bjorgman!"

And, out of the doors, came Anna and Kajalmar, pushing a large cart-- with the biggest, most beautiful, blue and gold cake! It was royal blue, with gold fillagree, and a billion baby blue roses made of chocolate and crystalized sugar dotting it in a big curl.

And the party ate. And there was merriment. And love. And hope. But Alderic did not yet feel the pull of his fate- the glow didn't fully take, not until he found himself at the end of the night, just after bidding his family goodnight, as he turned in. Before he slept, he made a vow- to protect- and...

"Goodnight, Lordling."

A deep golden glow, enveloped him. Alderic was fated, not as the king, not as the oldest surviving child of Vertis, but truly embodying the one thing he strived for the most as he learned and grew. Alderic was not fated to be king, but instead, as he closed his eyes and contentedly drifted to a nightmare-free slumber, he knew he was fated as a Protector of Vertis. A title only few hold, inherited from an aunt he loved more than anything.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince.

The scent of gun powder burned Taeshan's nostrils as she trudged through the battlefield trenches, her boots stamping down a mixture of blood and mud as she steps over a dead solider pushes down the head of a living one. "Keep your head in the game, dumbass!" she yelled at the man as a hail bullets whizzed by not a second later. "-Or else you're going to lose it!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

This kid wasn't cut out for this - a lot of these humans weren't - he was barely an adult, conscripted into the army to defend his country from enemy invasion. And here was Taeshan, an inexperienced Guardian tasked to protect him. It didn't help that there was a sickening sense of dread that snuck up whenever there was a lapse of gunfire.

Days creep by in the trenches, with no signs of advancing from either side and it soon drove the Guardian to pace back and forth during the lulls of shelling until she made a divot in the ground. It was midafternoon when the smell of gun powder was replaced with the faint stench of something mouldy that made her eyes burn as the dread that circled around her all this time pounced on her like a tiger.

"Put on your gas mask, kid," Taeshan rasped to the solider. When the man hesitated, Taeshan's adrenaline caused her to snap at him: "You deaf? I said, put it on! And go tell the others to do the same, hurry!"

As the man grabbed his creepy face mask and started to pull it over his head, the mouldy smell grew stronger still. Taeshan had to do something and what that something was was going to expend what little magic she had left...

Screw it.

Pulling herself out of the trench and passing several dead bodies, she crouched above the squadron and pulled her arms back and whipped them in front of her, her energy unleashing a blast of air so massive, a wind storm would soon break out in the skies above the battlefield. Exhaustion soon came over the Guardian and before she collapsed, she was pulled back down into the trench as bullets began flying on both sides again. 

Suddenly, the face of the soldier she was sworn to protect swarmed her vision and she tried to push him away in confusion before darkness enveloped her, her dreams soon plagued with masked faces and bodies of suffocating humans with hands clawing at their throats.