riverviewlogs | (open) someday the flowers will wither

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(open) someday the flowers will wither

who: hana song and you!
what: did someone call for more memory share logs? + catchall for aftermath
when: october
where: various
warnings: violence

1 | CONSCRIPTION | first-person

[ It's all over the news— the latest simulations for the Korean army's new, recalibrated piloted mech units show that even the top air force pilots cannot produce the same results as the programming the previously unmanned drones had been equipped with. Headlines for every news site, both locally and internationally, all read similarly and much the same as Hana scrolls through sites on her phone: WHAT HOPE DOES SOUTH KOREA HAVE NOW?

There's a feeling of uneasiness at all of this, but it's not borne out of hopelessness. Rather, it's coming from a strong feeling that something big is about to happen. The army has been blowing through pilots ever since the colossal omnic permanently compromised MEKA's drone control networks. No one has been able to pilot the machines like there were no pilots inside to begin with. No one has the speed and reflexes—

That uneasiness rapidly melts away into that sinking, sinking feeling in her stomach that happens when one’s fears have become reality when she looks up and finds her father handing her an envelope addressed to 송하나 - Hana Song - from the Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army.

Carefully, she opens the envelope the unfolds its contents, casting uncertain glances up at her father as she does so. The look on his face is just as uneasy, creases on his face betraying his demure composure - it's the look on his face that she knows means he's worried. She doesn't have steel enough nerves to be able to read what the letter says in any coherent way, but her eyes zoom in on words enough that she knows what this is about - in fact, she's known what it would be about before she even opened the letter.

Aptitude. Skills required to operate Mobile Exo-force armored units. Pilot. Duty. Mandatory service. To her country. ]

Dad, I—

[ Her voice comes out shrunk and the rest of what might have been a sentence is swallowed in the quivering of her voice, and then by her dad's arms around her.

"I know. It's going to be alright, bunny. Everything is going to be alright. You're going to become the best pilot they've ever seen, I just know it. I’m so proud of you, Hana. So proud...”

In the silence that passes between father and daughter, the breaking, just-in news report airing on the television in the other room just confirms what they've been dreading: DESPERATE FOR RESULTS: MOBILE EXO-FORCE CALLS UPON TOP GAMERS FOR PILOTS ]

2 | UPRISING | third-person

Dad, I’m about to beat the gym leader! Look here!

[ —calls twelve-year-old Hana Song out to her father. Her request falls on deaf ears; her father is busy watching news pour in of the Omnic uprising in King’s Row, counts of casualties of human and omnic alike - where is Overwatch? Should they be deployed? - and what the Uprising could mean for omnics around the world.

”Not right now, bunny,” he says, and Hana sinks into her Pachimari plush with a pout, shifting her gaze back down to her handheld console. The sounds of her game are drowned out by news broadcasts of videos taken by people in London - screaming and raining gunfire and explosions - and then by the prime minister remaining steadfast in decision: they have the situation under control, and they will not be seeking outside help. They will not call for Overwatch. ]

That’s so dumb.

[ She doesn’t even bother looking up from her handheld. ]

If Overwatch is willing to help why doesn’t he just let them? That city’s getting wrecked just because he doesn’t want outside people helping. So stupid.

3 | DRONES | third-person

[ Hana is seventeen years old, the reigning Starcraft II champion in the world—

and she has no idea how much her life is going to change.

She’s lived through a few of the colossal omnic’s attacks, by now - but the story always ends the same. MEKA leads the way, and the omnic is defeated, but not destroyed. Victory is short-lived as the somber reminder that it’s still out there hits. That it will come back and it will be stronger than it was before. That the time spans between its attacks have been getting shorter and shorter over the years, to the point that the army has to rely on reading seismic activity to figure out when the omnic is on the move in the depths of the oceans. That the day that the decade-old strategy they’ve always used to fight against it finally gets beaten may be much closer than they all think, or believe.

Social media is the first to buzz about a new attack. Civilians and news agencies alike report that they have visual on the omnic - civilians within the coastal cities are to evacuate into shelters immediately - and MEKA is deploying. Hana feels relatively safe in Seoul - but everyone looks out for each other whenever one of these attacks happen. Several of her teammates on her pro team are from other cities, coastal cities included, and for their sakes she keeps her news feed fresh.

It’s not long before confusion strikes across any and all reports. MEKA drones are being spotted in cities further inland. In Seoul. There’s no word from MEKA and evacuations continue in the coastal cities as the colossal omnic approaches the shores. Hana is huddled with a few members of her team in their house, all watching tweets go by on one screen and messaging their families on another. Hana is on the phone with her parents, who live just outside the city. ]

I’m fine, you guys. Promise. We finished training for the day so we’re at the dorms. I know, we’re looking at the news, too. I don’t know what’s happening. But I’ll see you guys this weekend, okay? Love you.

[ Hana ends her call just in time for one of her teammates to scream.

”The drones are attacking!”

Sounds of explosions and gunfire that Hana is used to hearing through the speakers of her phone or headphones when she sees the news— suddenly sound very, very close. And so are the screams of people outside. Their team manager bursts into the room, yelling,

”Everyone get out of here! Get downstairs! Hurry! The city is under attack!”

They scramble to get out of the small room that they all usually sleep in - racing down stairs, several teammates crying out wondering what was happening and others already claiming that they were going to die. Whatever is happening, it hasn’t quite sunk in, in Hana’s mind, until another explosion shakes the building.

The drones are attacking. The same drones that had helped protect the country and all of them for all these years - they’re attacking. They’ve turned against the people they’re supposed to protect. They’re basically defenseless. They colossal omnic is going to beat them.

Everything feels like a blur and Hana feels - she doesn’t know how she feels. She’s confused. Anxious. Worried. Scared. She and her teammates are shuffled into a room in the basement of their building and from there, the explosions and gunfire and screams are muffled. It’s dark except for the light of everyone’s phones as they continue to keep track of what’s going on - and as they try to reach out to their families. Hana’s phone is buzzing with messages from fans from around the world, who’ve undoubtedly heard, themselves, what’s happened - and messages from her parents. She feels - numb. Like this must be some sort of horrible dream. This isn’t really happening. Her teammate is crying, now, and Hana puts her arms around the other girl in a gesture of comfort, but she feels nothing.

Am I going to die…? ]

4 | FAME | first person

[ Hana is greeted by cheers and nearly-blinding flashing lights as she steps out of an armored vehicle that has transported her from the MEKA headquarters to her new apartment building in the city of Busan. She’s escorted by soldiers in uniform and her manager, too, trying to act as a barrier between her and the crowds that have gathered at her residence. Hana, herself, is dressed in her army service uniform and heels click against the pavement as she tries to just - go home for the day. She’s tired, her arms and wrists are sore, but she can’t let any of that show. Instead she walks, smiling, waving at the press and at her fans putting what little energy she has left into looking okay.

”D.Va! Your first mission as a pilot was a huge success! Do you have anything to say about it?”

“You’re my hero, D.Va!”

“Please let me take a selfie with you!”

“Hey! Are you ever going to return to the pro gaming scene?”

“Miss Song— you’re fighting against real enemies now, not virtual ones. Aren’t you afraid?”

Hana stops in her tracks. The crowd falls silent as she does, only the sounds of camera shutters firing off fills the air. And she turns, slowly, to a camera - any camera, even if it isn’t the one for the reporter who’d asked if she’s afraid. Her courteous smile has subdued into something more cold and professional, a look that not even her opponents from her competitive days would see on her. ]

I’m not afraid. I’m going to fight with everything I have to defend our country and its people, and I know my fellow pilots are going to do the same.

[ Liar. She’s afraid. If you mess up in a video game, you get to restart from your last save point. Or you get revived and you get to keep going.

There are no extra lives in real life.

But she has to put her smile back on and raise a hand, flashing a victory sign at the camera— ]

So please keep on cheering us on, everybody! Thanks for the support!

[ —before she spins on her heel and finally, finally makes it into her door. ]

((ooc; new and existing cr alike are welcome! feel free to hit me up at

camerata if you have any questions or wildcards to throw! ))

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[ Hana doesn't know that X'rhun had seen one of her memories during the day; so at this apology she merely shakes her head and offers her own apology. ]

No, I'm sorry. I wish I wasn't intruding on people's memories like this...

[ She turns her head and looks on at the scene unfolding before them once more. ]

You don't have to tell me or talk about it if you don't want to.

It’s only fair. I was in one of yours earlier today.

[ He gives her an apologetic look, ears folding back a bit. ]

I had every intention of calling you in the morning, but… [ he waves a hand, indicating their surroundings. ] Apparently, it was not for me to decide.

For what it’s worth, welcome to Ala Mhigo. She’s seen better days.

[ Her eyes go a little wide at that - she had been experiencing flashes of other people's memories, herself, but this is the first time that someone's seen one of hers. As far as she's aware of, anyway. She wants to ask what he saw... but in the middle of a rather busy scene of a memory doesn't quite lend itself to it. ]

Can I ask what's going on here?

But of course.

[ As much as he is loath to expose her to more fighting, he would rather she knew the scope of what she was seeing rather than being made to watch and wonder. And, well, young as she is, she’s still a soldier. If anyone was going to understand this, then it would be her. ]

My homeland had been struggling to recover from a brutal civil war, in which the people stood against the tyranny of their mad king. Scenting blood in the water, the Empire of Garlemald to the far north sent their troops en masse to lay claim to Ala Mhigo.

It was not a long fight, for we had not the manpower or the resources to stand against them. Garleans do not possess the innate ability to wield magic, and to make up for that failing, they instead wield sheer numbers and mastery over advanced technology.

What you see here is the early days of the invasion. [ He motions to his younger self and the soldiers crowded around the war table. ] If I recall correctly, we are about to head straight into an Imperial ambush.

[ As X'rhun tells his story, Hana looks out at the scene, trying to take in the details, trying to imagine the larger world that this takes place in. Magic, kings, empires... it all sounds like something out of a fantasy game. Like the kind of game where she'd make a character and pick a class and do all sorts of quests, go on all sorts of adventures and fight all sorts of fantastic creatures. Except that X'rhun actually lived though this. Her gaze settles on the younger version of the miqo'te and the others at the war table. ]

So you were a soldier trying to defend your homeland. Against advanced technology.

[ Much like herself, she thinks. Although she's not sure what "advanced technology" means in a world with magic. Was it technology like how she knows technology? Or something arcane? She looks back up at the older, present X'rhun. This brings her to her next question; she has a feeling that the answer will end up being related, given what X'rhun had said earlier... ]

What did you see from my memories, earlier?

[ Being back home like this, even in a dream, would almost be a comfort if X’rhun wasn’t keenly aware of what would be awaiting himself and his comrades.

But Hana’s question draws his gaze away from the scene, and he looks at her with open sympathy. ]

The day you received a letter from the Korean military.

[ The name of Hana’s homeland is still alien on his tongue— a word he learned by having it thrust into his brain rather than told to him.

In the background, the younger X’rhun and his fellows break away from the war table, with final, grim nods. They scatter to make their preparations and time seems to flow in fast-forward. The sun reaches its apex and sinks towards the horizon in a matter of moments, and Hana and the current X’rhun are whisked away from the Reach though they never once move. The world around them does, and soon the scene settles on the pale sands and sparse vegetation of the Fringes.

With the sun going down, the area is cast in long, deep shadows, and behind a jutting rock formation in one such shadow lurks the contingent of Ala Mhigan soldiers. X’rhun is there too, along with about three others in bright red. ]

[ Her eyes widen - that's a new one. Because she's used to people walking into her dreams and seeing other memories of hers - of the Uprising, of the day the drones turned - but she'd almost forgotten about the day she was drafted until now. She hadn't seen it along with him - so it really did some in flashes, like one of Genji's memories did with her.

The look on her face makes her want to ask him more about what he'd seen - but before the words come out the scene around them swirls and speeds and takes them to an entirely different one in just a few seconds. In no time Hana is made to be bewildered at her surroundings once more until her gaze falls on the younger X'rhun. There's an unsettling feeling in her stomach that what she's about to see isn't going to be good.

In the end all she can do is look up at the older X'rhun, a questioning look on her face like she wants him to explain what's happening. ]

[ He knows she must have questions about what he saw, but the dream whisks them away before she gets a chance to ask them. Now isn’t really the time anyway.

The questioning look on her face shifts, as she takes in the scene and looks back at X’rhun. She’s no stranger to fighting, he now knows, but this is surely unlike anything she’s seen before. She’s used to fighting in her mech, but for the Ala Mhigans, the mechs were the enemy. An enemy that they had no way to counter, not effectively.

With brute force and sheer numbers, the Garleans can and have ground many a nation under their heel. ]

We’re lying in wait for an Imperial supply detail. What we were told was that valuable weapons and technology was being sent through here to the outpost to the west, but the information proved to be false. A set up.

It… it will be a bloody scene.

[ Hana listens to him dutifully, carefully - and even though he's explaining what's in front of her and what she's about to see, her eyes are still on him. And what he says doesn't help that unsettled feeling of hers at all. She's certainly no stranger to fighting and to war but the world that X'rhun is from is so entirely different from hers that she's not sure what to expect from what she now knows is going to unfold.

Slowly, she reaches out for him and her fingers tug on his sleeve. A small gesture just to show him that she's here - or sort of here, given that this is a dream - because it can't be easy to be seeing this all over again. Just like it wasn't easy for her to see the day the MEKA drones turned on them all over again. ]

I'm sorry, X'rhun. We don't have to watch if you don't want to. I don't know if we can wake up by ourselves but maybe we can turn away, or something—

[ Something in his expression softens as Hana’s fingers catch the fabric of his sleeve, and he reaches over to cover her hand with his own. ]

I know now that you were made a soldier when you were far too young for such a life, and the last thing I would like to do is force you to watch more fighting. However, I know you. I know your bravery, and I won’t force you to look away either. The choice is yours, Hana.

As it is, I already relive this night sometimes in my dreams. It will be no different.

[ Eyes go wide at what he says, and Hana has no explanation for the way her heart twists and turns even though she's in a dream...

I know your bravery

Rarely has she heard people commend her for bravery— at least, out loud. It's been a bit jarring for people to keep saying that to her during these dreams when they've seen what she's gone through. She certainly thinks she's brave, to an extent... but the words of people like Widowmaker and Reaper are the ones that stick to her and claw in, sink into her heart when they belittle her for her age, call her a child, and say that she's weak.

She knows she's brave. But to keep hearing others say it to her...

Her gaze falls, fingers tighten on the fabric of X'rhun's sleeve. But before long she looks back up at him. ]

... I want to see what happened.

Very well. Then let us watch.

[ X’rhun keeps his hand in place over Hana’s as he turns his attention back to the scene, and the soldiers crouched in the lengthening shadows of the rock formation.

The sun finally sinks behind the horizon, painting the hazy sky in brilliant flashes of orange and pink before it vanishes completely and the stars show their faces in the inky blackness. The soldiers shift, anxiousness written in every line of their posture, the crease of their brows. The supply train should have been here by now.

In the distance, a low hum. X’rhun and the few other miqo’te in the group straighten, ears swiveling like radars, trying to get a handle on the noise as it builds to a dull roar.

“What?” Demands someone, harsh and hurried. “What is it?”

The question goes unanswered, as the noise draws closer, making itself apparent as the roar of an engine— Aircraft. Magitek. The younger X’rhun bolts to his feet— “Run!” —but the warning comes a split second too late. The ground beneath the soldiers erupts in smoke and fire, dust and debris, as a missile plummets into the sand and detonates. The Garlean gunship swoops into view, a score of foot soldiers following in its shadow. Behind them looms the pride of the Garlean army, their magitek monsters.

The smoke and the dust clears to reveal that the missile missed X’rhun and his companions by several feet, but it had done more than enough to shave down their numbers. Bodies lay burned by the flames or mangled by the shrapnel, blood seeping into the charred sands. The rest of the group looks dazed, their ears ringing from the explosion. X’rhun and his fellow red mages make for their rapiers, the crystals glowing with the soft light of healing magics as they try desperately to tend to their comrades that yet live before the Garleans are upon them.

What happens next is a fast and brutal fight. The Imperial soldiers swarm in like a dark tide garbed in black and red, but the Ala Mhigans are strong and they are fierce, those that are still standing do not go down easily. X’rhun and the Duelists carve through more than their fair share of Garleans with rapiers flashing and spell after spell flung from the crystals they wield.

But the fight was never in the Ala Mhigans’ favor to begin with. The magitek vanguards and the strange floating claws carve their way through X’rhun’s comrades with ease, peppering them with gunfire or crushing them in their grip.

Someone shouts the retreat, and then they are swiftly silenced as a giant metal spike blooms from their chest. The magitek vanguard seems disgusted with the thing now caught on the end of its arm and flings the limp form of the Ala Mhigan man away. It’s a sight X’rhun has never forgotten even in all these years.

Of the Ala Mhigan soldiers that gathered there, only a precious few manage to flee, limping and bleeding and bruised. Six in all, X’rhun and two of his fellow Duelists among them. The gunship swivels to take aim, only halted when one of the Garleans raises a hand. “Let them go,” barks the Imperial officer. “They’ll meet their end soon enough.” ]

[ Hana keeps her eyes on the horizon as the sun disappears into it - and a thick silence passes. She knows this story doesn't end well, and the lull, calm before the storm is almost deafening until the younger X'rhun's voice cuts through and the scene changes instantly into a battlefield.

And when her eyes find their opponents, the oddly magical yet mechanical entities that march and attack - Hana realizes that the sight feels more familiar to her than she had thought before. The magitek creatures almost remind her of the errant omnics with less bullets, more claws, and—

and by the time X'rhun and what remains of his allies are limping in retreat, Hana's hand has balled into a tight fist around the older X'rhun's sleeve (sorry buddy, but at least it's in a dream). She hasn't looked away even once, but her eyes are wide open. ]

Your comrades...

[ He's kept his hand over hers through the whole ordeal, and he can feel the way her grip tightens almost desperately as the battle plays out. It's somewhat strange for him to be watching this from a distance- usually his dreams place him right back in the thick of it, but that doesn't make it unfamiliar to him at all. ]

Aye. Some say it was a hopeless endeavor to start. The Garleans beat us and cowed us and kept Ala Mhigo under their heel for twenty long years.

I'm sorry.

[ Her grip finally loosens as her hand drops back down to her side. She looks around at the war-torn field around them, fresh from the fight and soaking in death and destruction. It's... not an unfamiliar sight. ]

What happened after twenty years, X'rhun?

[ His hand moves away from where Hana's once was, dropping instead to his side. ]

Freedom.

[ There's so much emotion in that one little word. Relief and joy and sorrow all tangled together, and X'rhun's vision goes watery with tears. This is the first time he's told another living soul that Ala Mhigo and her people were free, and that he does so while standing among the burned and broken bodies of his comrades strikes him right through the heart. ]

Would that they could have seen it.

[ Under her breath she mutters that same word, ]

Freedom...

[ recognizing all the weight that it carries in X'rhun's voice. She can't help the way that her eyes sting with the threat of tears, too, after having just witnessed this battle and knowing that freedom does come - in twenty years, but it comes nonetheless - and it... gives her hope? It's strange. It's likely that she'll never see the world that X'rhun comes from again outside of this dream, but she's swept away by the emotion of it all and when she looks up and finds her friend moved nearly to tears, all she can really do is step closer and wrap her arms around him. ]

[ Hana's arms slide around him and the contact startles him. He's watched this scene so many times in his dreams, but he has never had someone to share this moment with him, to participate in the sorrow and the bittersweet joy in knowing that the sacrifices of his friends were not in vain.

He hesitates for a heartbeat, but that's all it takes for him to decide to give in. He loops his arms around her shoulders in return, and perhaps he clings a little harder than he means to, but now more than ever the hard-won freedom of Ala Mhigo seems real. Tears that were twenty years in coming streak his cheeks as he holds tight, burying his face in her hair. ]

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(open) someday the flowers will wither

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