The power of Kings requires a living power source for things such as the Old Wall and - I'm not going to explain any of the technicalities to you until you get your weight off that leg, you absolute dumb bastard.
[The authority of kings is a grandpa holding a cat who conjures a folding chair out of his Armiger to put Verity into. Stay, kitty.
She blinks as he puts her down and meows again before jumping off to give Nyx's foot a sniff.]
Prioritize not dying for a moment and give me your hand, I might be able to do something and I can't not try.
Then I'm no worse now than I was last time we talked and you demanded my life. So [Another smirk, the barest hint of an eye roll. Insubordination? Him? Never~.]
Sorry if I'm not too focused on self preservation at the moment.
[Bitch he'll just grab for your stupid burned ring hand, then. Nyx can probably even feel something, some exertion of power and focus, but - ]
No? Fine. The next five minutes are going to be extremely stupid.
[And after that flippant comment... Well, Nyx, you're not going to get much more proof than the fact that you are now facing down a much less ghostly, familiar suit of armour. Surprise?]
[Izunia grabs his hand and Nyx's cocky attitude falters into a snarl for a moment, pain, fear, rage all flicker across his face before he settles back into his mask of neutral arrogance.
Only for the man in front of him to shift and change and then he's staring at The Mystic. There's a moment of awe, of surprise and wonder and then it buried under bravado all over again.]
[Izunia starts to pull at the magic, the fire burning under the skin. It's worst in his hand, of course but the fissures coil and splinter all across his arm, all the way up into his face. The first tug is soothing, easing the burn... but as he works, draws the power out the pain of his many injuries comes raging back to the forefront of his mind.
His breath stutters, hisses out between grit teeth, tension coils tighter through him as the pain grows worse.
Izunia may be no healer but the magic is the only thing left keeping him alive at this point, even as it kills him.]
Fuckin ironic isn't it?
[Strained and harsh and the pain is so intense but he refuses to give into it, to scream, to yield. Not while there is strength left in his body, however little there is.]
Yeah no shit. [He tries so hard not to lean into the support, tries to keep his feet, breathing carefully through the pain churning in his gut, restricting his breathing. Careful breaths, in and out, he won't let himself panic or hyperventilate.
If he's going to die he's going to have some fucking dignity.
But his skin no longer feels like it's on fire, there's no sharp sting of pain through his arm and neck and face. Instead it's the screaming agony of his leg that finally gives out on him, sending him toppling into the chair. He bites down on a cry so hard and so fast he tastes blood, sharp and metallic, his lip swollen and sensitive against his teeth.
And that's when his breathing starts to get a little too ragged, dark spots dancing across his vision.]
[Curatives the royal specialty, magic poured into drinks and bottles for the one kind of healing they can do.
Izunia kneels, all the sparkling bits of armor jangling, and sets to work - bring down the bleeding, up the blood he has left, potion, potion, elixir, ether.
He hasn't made any move to change back to his flesh form, for the moment. He'll have to to straighten the bones in the leg, but the gunshot wounds are worse.]
[Curatives weren't something the Glaives had much access to. Unlike Noctis' close knit Glaive the full breadth of the Kingsglaive has plenty of access to the magic but the armiger? No, that was reserved for the King's close companions.
Regis was already stretched so thin. Asking him to mass produce curatives to keep up with the entire Glaive was asking far too much of him.
It's odd, being treated like this by a massive suit of armor but it's hard to focus through the pain that he's been forcing down for so long now. How many hours? How many injuries?
He drinks, realizes that it could just as easily be poison but if the man wanted him dead he'd only have had to wait.]
The magic of our blood always demands a price. From us as well - our lives are short and burn bright, as you well know. Regis might have gotten another two or three years, but not much more, after maintaining that Wall so long.
It consumes our life energy. And for one not of the bloodline to fuel the Old Wall... You would have died anyway.
[He still might. But at least if his life force doesn't recover enough, with the potions Izunia is packing into him, it won't be in pain, and it won't be alone.
Verity bonks into Nyx's good leg.]
We're used to the stress and have a bigger well of magical energy. For you, it's as much the shock as anything. Same way a gunshot can kill even if it misses anything vital.
[His tone is still cold and detached as he pushes another ether into Nyx's lap to get chugged after the first, but then it warms almost imperceptibly.]
And this is the part where things get stupid for a moment. Just... repeat to yourself that magic is bullshit and bear with me.
[He wants to snarl that he knows exactly the price of the magic. Yank down his collar and show him the ragged spiderweb of scarring across his chest that grows with each battle. To tell him of the ashy lines that crawled away from Crowe's eyes, scars they all bore, mages dropping dead mid-spell because there just wasn't enough left in them to feed the magic any more.]
It kills a hell of a lot slower than a gunshot.
[Says the man who is currently dying because of one.
Well, two.
Fuck it hurts. Drinking is painful too, putting anything more in his ravaged belly is excruciating but he guzzles down potion after ether, everything Izunia gives him until he's worried he might actually throw up, pain dulling and his head swimming from the blood loss but his stomach churning angrily. Maybe he should just warp and be done with it. Let it come up if it wants to, let him die if that's what his body really wants.
The subtle shift in his tone is lost on Nyx, a testament to just how bad off he is. But the phrasing is more casual and that alone makes him smirk, amused and completely out of fucks to give.]
Yes, well, I need flesh hands to set the bone. Metal is not the most tactile material in the world.
[The tone is still... toneless, but he lifts a giant metal hand to waggle his fingers a little in a way that so deeply contrasts with the dignity of the line of kings.
If Nyx can find the humor in it, well, he'll probably live. Especially once the medical staff, the people qualified for more than triage, can get to him.]
But you're past bleeding out in the next ten minutes with all those curatives in you, so just... Bear with me.
[And then - for a moment, it's like the great suit of armor sucks in a deep breath before everything flickers. And then it's Izunia sitting on the ground again, human again from the waist up, but the waist down is...
Well. Nyx is going to have a very different opinion of octopus for a while after this.
Explanations will have to wait, though, because as soon as he's flesh and blood again - the panic comes crashing down on Izunia and leaves him breathing heavily into his hands, the drawn-out shakes of someone fighting off a panic attack. Knowing it was coming is why he got Nyx into best condition he could before changing forms, but that doesn't make the sudden rush of emotion any easier to handle. At least he knows that Nyx has seen combat shock before, the people who can keep going while there's still an enemy to fight and then become near-catatonic afterwards, and that his own signs are obvious.
[The finger wiggle does, in fact, get a laugh out of him. A harsh startled burst of a laugh that gets choked off into something closer to a sob because that fucking hurts.
He's still trying to catch his breath from the laugh when Izunia suddenly shrinks, smaller and more compact and at least closer to human sized. The startled, shocked response that his brain immediately goes to is just far too much effort for his damaged body and he ends up just staring at the redhead for a long moment.
It takes some time for his mind to sort out what he's looking at, exactly. He's plenty familiar with octopus, has hunted them before, a favored Galahdian delicacy and the traditional source of ink for the scattered tattoos that mark his body.
But once he realizes exactly what's going on, not so much that he's part fucking fish, but that he's panicking, Nyx tries to move. He can't manage much but he does at least stretch his legs out,an offer of contact but not forcing it on him. He's seen it go both ways. Libertus for example would grip his shoulder until it bruised, hold on and try to make a joke of it later. He, himself, tended to retaliate with a face full of flames.]
You're right. [Talking hurts but it's something he might be able to focus on, to bring him back to the present so Nyx does, just blathers on about whatever pops into his head.] Not gonna bleed out but fuck if it doesn't feel like it. Might still puke on you, sorry. Metal'd be easier to clean, at least. Though I guess the fishy bits would clean up well enough?
Why do you have tentacles?
No, never mind I don't want to know. Mmm I miss getting good octopus, man. Even the few Galahdian food stands never had anything like real octopus. Damn wall.
[It's a minute before any kind of response, and the first thing that happens is that Izunia leans up against Nyx's good leg, taking the offer where he can find it. His breathing starts to even out, but slowly, until he can speak again, but it's the disjointed, context deprived speech of someone still bringing themselves down.]
You sound like my brother-in-law, rambling on like that.
[Another deep breath, one more moment of his hands pressed against his face -
And then in another sparkle of crystal, his legs are back to being legs, the barely-visible gills under his collar vanishing.
Almost absently, he starts petting the cat rubbing up against his side.]
Don't worry. We've got fresh fish, at least. Not sure about octopus but we can probably find something.
[So rambling was what he has to offer. Once Izunia initiates the contact Nyx does his best to press his leg a little more firmly against the other man? Yes, yes he's back to being a man again, not a fish.]
I've hunted them before.
[Clearly the important thing here. The thing to be concerned with. Eating fish. But first he has to stop feeling like he's going to throw up.]
I'll be alright. I just don't handle healing magic very well, these days.
[In, out, until he can be steady on his own. Yeah, not very well is one way to put it.]
It's a very long story, and all of it tied together. You have no idea how many problems the line of kings actually has, trust me. And you've as much right to know as any at this point, it's just a story that will take time to tell.
[With that in mind, Izunia pulls himself up and braces to set the leg. First, though, a phone from his armiger to text the medical staff - better to let them know now that they're about to have a troublesome patient.]
Oh I'm sure there's a helluva tale there. But I think that's a story I need a beer for.
[As nauseous as he is from pain and then powering through half a dozen bottles of curatives he'd still give anything for a beer right about now. Or something harder. Definitely an occasion for breaking out the good shit.]
Not really any being ready for that sort of thing.
[He shrugs but then reaches back, snags one of the rich blue tails of his sash and rolls it, twisting it up tight and then shoving the thick rope of fabric into his mouth, between his teeth like a bit. He bites down a little, tests it, then nods to Izunia.
Do you one better and give you a brandy once we're at the medbay. Or a whiskey. Or hot pepper vodka.
[He's carrying, that's what he's saying here. You have Choices.
Nyx gets a nod in return and Izunia stretches his wrists a bit before he reaches up, forcing the bone back into its proper position - a job a little harder than it has to be with all the curatives already at work, but it's what has to be done and Izunia does it as efficiently as he can, all business. And then a second realignment, when the first isn't quite right, and then he uses his own arm as a brace while cracking the bottle of a curative right over the break with the other.
It's not until that that he flinches.]
Alright. That should at least bear weight until you're properly in medical, but if you think I'm letting you walk there on your own you're out of your godsdamn mind.
[Watching it doesn't make it better, he knows that but he also can't look away. There's no real preparing for it, no matter how much he tries there's no stopping yourself from reacting to that kind of damage once the adrenaline of near death has worn off and that gave out on him hours ago.
The first adjustment comes and he bites down hard on the gag he's made himself, snarling and wheezing out a breath that's not really a sound but has an edge of a high pitched wheeze to it. The fact that he's in a lawn chair of all things completely slips his mind and he slams his fist down onto the arm of the chair. He doesn't scream, hell he doesn't even tear up, he just bears down on the gag and pants, trying to bring his breathing back under control.
With how fucked his leg is he expects it to take more than two, honestly, so when the second burst of pain subsides and Izunia pops another bottle over his knee Nyx slumps back against the chair, counting under his breath, forcing himself to control his breathing before he does something ridiculous like pass out or start crying.
And if the chair is listing to one side now that the arm's bent in half well... can he really be blamed for that?]
[There can be little to no doubt that the Founder King was a parent in his own time, with how automatically he shifts into the comforting tone. He straightens up and offers Nyx a hand to squeeze - he's less fragile than the chair, he can deal with it - until the man is ready to move.]
It's not that far to our medbay - inside and a bit of an elevator trip. But I should warn you that most of our medical staff isn't human here, so... Don't panic and please don't stab anyone.
[He likes his primary doctor and his FWB unstabbed, please, Nyx, do him this.]
[He's wary at first, of taking Izunia's hand, but he does, clings to it for the longest count of ten he's ever had to do. Then, slowly, he eases his grip and dares to swallow again. A moment where he actually has to lean over, heaving briefly. Pain making his head swim and his insides violently rebelling against the idea of motion after mixing so many curatives.]
Not human? [He finally croaks out, slumping back into the chair for a moment before looking over towards the door, judging the distance. He can make that. Surely he can make that.
And he'sdoing his damnedest to push himself up out of the chair and to his feet. Fuck your warnings Izunia. He will move under his own godsdamned power.]
[Izunia will let him push, but it's with the sort of hovering that clearly says 'I expect you to need help not falling on your face at any moment.' He only pauses to quite literally kick the damaged chair into his Armiger once Nyx is out of it, and grab his kitty's leash.]
Mmm - it's late enough in the morning that Jet's probably already gone to bed, so it'll be Strange on duty - they're an android, more human-looking than Niflheim's damn magitek at least. Jetshard's the other main person on medical staff, and she's a troll - tall grey-skinned alien with horns, very good friend of mine.
[It's apparently his turn to just straight up babble as they make their way to the doors and inside.]
[Walking is rough, no doubt about it. He's unsteady now without the magic searing through him but he's also not sure he's stable enough to just warp to the door. So he slowly makes his way, limping heavily, staggering more than once but determined to get there on his own.]
Android? [he sounds as startled and uncertain as he can while still gritting his teeth to force his way through the pain.] You're sure it's not Magitek?
[Because like fuck he's letting an MT anywhere near him. He would literally rather die.
At least he's not too proud to let Izunia hold the door for him?]
[He'll hold the door and even bow, because when have the Lucis Caelums not been incredibly extra motherfuckers?]
On account of the fact that they're native to this world, where Niflheim doesn't even exist. Welcome to Keystone Station, home to any number of the multiverse's lost socks, keys, and people.
[It's thankfully quiet through the halls this morning as Izunia steps by to lead the way to the elevator. No one else around at this hour, at least at the moment.]
If you'd absolutely prefer, though, I can drag Jet back out, but her skill with magical healing isn't near as good anyway.
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hardbargain) wrote2018-11-08 08:23 pm
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[The authority of kings is a grandpa holding a cat who conjures a folding chair out of his Armiger to put Verity into. Stay, kitty.
She blinks as he puts her down and meows again before jumping off to give Nyx's foot a sniff.]
Prioritize not dying for a moment and give me your hand, I might be able to do something and I can't not try.
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[Which he's not saying he believes.]
Then I'm no worse now than I was last time we talked and you demanded my life. So [Another smirk, the barest hint of an eye roll. Insubordination? Him? Never~.]
Sorry if I'm not too focused on self preservation at the moment.
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[Bitch he'll just grab for your stupid burned ring hand, then. Nyx can probably even feel something, some exertion of power and focus, but - ]
No? Fine. The next five minutes are going to be extremely stupid.
[And after that flippant comment... Well, Nyx, you're not going to get much more proof than the fact that you are now facing down a much less ghostly, familiar suit of armour. Surprise?]
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Only for the man in front of him to shift and change and then he's staring at The Mystic. There's a moment of awe, of surprise and wonder and then it buried under bravado all over again.]
What do you expect me to do? Kneel?
[And his tone says precisely how likely that is.]
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[The echoing magical voice is... different, and nearly toneless, making it hard to tell if that was a joke or not.
And something flickers along the metal grasp and... Slowly, like poison leaving a wound, the flame is drawn out.]
Your hand is going to scar terribly. Not much I can do about that, I think. I'm no healer.
[But the magic is his, and it will obey, so help him.]
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His breath stutters, hisses out between grit teeth, tension coils tighter through him as the pain grows worse.
Izunia may be no healer but the magic is the only thing left keeping him alive at this point, even as it kills him.]
Fuckin ironic isn't it?
[Strained and harsh and the pain is so intense but he refuses to give into it, to scream, to yield. Not while there is strength left in his body, however little there is.]
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[The metal hands support Nyx's weight as much as he needs. No point saving him from one end just to lose him.
The Mystic is tranquil but determined. Little ruffles the kings of old. It's for the better, given what he's doing.
At last, the flame taken back as much as it will go, leaving stinging burns behind,
Izunia gently nudges Nyx into the chair. Sit, you idiot. ]
Let's see what curatives can do for the rest.
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If he's going to die he's going to have some fucking dignity.
But his skin no longer feels like it's on fire, there's no sharp sting of pain through his arm and neck and face. Instead it's the screaming agony of his leg that finally gives out on him, sending him toppling into the chair. He bites down on a cry so hard and so fast he tastes blood, sharp and metallic, his lip swollen and sensitive against his teeth.
And that's when his breathing starts to get a little too ragged, dark spots dancing across his vision.]
Cura... tives?
[He hadn't even thought of something like that.]
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[Curatives the royal specialty, magic poured into drinks and bottles for the one kind of healing they can do.
Izunia kneels, all the sparkling bits of armor jangling, and sets to work - bring down the bleeding, up the blood he has left, potion, potion, elixir, ether.
He hasn't made any move to change back to his flesh form, for the moment. He'll have to to straighten the bones in the leg, but the gunshot wounds are worse.]
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Regis was already stretched so thin. Asking him to mass produce curatives to keep up with the entire Glaive was asking far too much of him.
It's odd, being treated like this by a massive suit of armor but it's hard to focus through the pain that he's been forcing down for so long now. How many hours? How many injuries?
He drinks, realizes that it could just as easily be poison but if the man wanted him dead he'd only have had to wait.]
Why save me... it was you who demanded my life.
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It consumes our life energy. And for one not of the bloodline to fuel the Old Wall... You would have died anyway.
[He still might. But at least if his life force doesn't recover enough, with the potions Izunia is packing into him, it won't be in pain, and it won't be alone.
Verity bonks into Nyx's good leg.]
We're used to the stress and have a bigger well of magical energy. For you, it's as much the shock as anything. Same way a gunshot can kill even if it misses anything vital.
[His tone is still cold and detached as he pushes another ether into Nyx's lap to get chugged after the first, but then it warms almost imperceptibly.]
And this is the part where things get stupid for a moment. Just... repeat to yourself that magic is bullshit and bear with me.
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It kills a hell of a lot slower than a gunshot.
[Says the man who is currently dying because of one.
Well, two.
Fuck it hurts. Drinking is painful too, putting anything more in his ravaged belly is excruciating but he guzzles down potion after ether, everything Izunia gives him until he's worried he might actually throw up, pain dulling and his head swimming from the blood loss but his stomach churning angrily. Maybe he should just warp and be done with it. Let it come up if it wants to, let him die if that's what his body really wants.
The subtle shift in his tone is lost on Nyx, a testament to just how bad off he is. But the phrasing is more casual and that alone makes him smirk, amused and completely out of fucks to give.]
Magic is definitely bullshit.
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[The tone is still... toneless, but he lifts a giant metal hand to waggle his fingers a little in a way that so deeply contrasts with the dignity of the line of kings.
If Nyx can find the humor in it, well, he'll probably live. Especially once the medical staff, the people qualified for more than triage, can get to him.]
But you're past bleeding out in the next ten minutes with all those curatives in you, so just... Bear with me.
[And then - for a moment, it's like the great suit of armor sucks in a deep breath before everything flickers. And then it's Izunia sitting on the ground again, human again from the waist up, but the waist down is...
Well. Nyx is going to have a very different opinion of octopus for a while after this.
Explanations will have to wait, though, because as soon as he's flesh and blood again - the panic comes crashing down on Izunia and leaves him breathing heavily into his hands, the drawn-out shakes of someone fighting off a panic attack. Knowing it was coming is why he got Nyx into best condition he could before changing forms, but that doesn't make the sudden rush of emotion any easier to handle. At least he knows that Nyx has seen combat shock before, the people who can keep going while there's still an enemy to fight and then become near-catatonic afterwards, and that his own signs are obvious.
Bear with him, indeed.]
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He's still trying to catch his breath from the laugh when Izunia suddenly shrinks, smaller and more compact and at least closer to human sized. The startled, shocked response that his brain immediately goes to is just far too much effort for his damaged body and he ends up just staring at the redhead for a long moment.
It takes some time for his mind to sort out what he's looking at, exactly. He's plenty familiar with octopus, has hunted them before, a favored Galahdian delicacy and the traditional source of ink for the scattered tattoos that mark his body.
But once he realizes exactly what's going on, not so much that he's part fucking fish, but that he's panicking, Nyx tries to move. He can't manage much but he does at least stretch his legs out,an offer of contact but not forcing it on him. He's seen it go both ways. Libertus for example would grip his shoulder until it bruised, hold on and try to make a joke of it later. He, himself, tended to retaliate with a face full of flames.]
You're right. [Talking hurts but it's something he might be able to focus on, to bring him back to the present so Nyx does, just blathers on about whatever pops into his head.] Not gonna bleed out but fuck if it doesn't feel like it. Might still puke on you, sorry. Metal'd be easier to clean, at least. Though I guess the fishy bits would clean up well enough?
Why do you have tentacles?
No, never mind I don't want to know. Mmm I miss getting good octopus, man. Even the few Galahdian food stands never had anything like real octopus. Damn wall.
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You sound like my brother-in-law, rambling on like that.
[Another deep breath, one more moment of his hands pressed against his face -
And then in another sparkle of crystal, his legs are back to being legs, the barely-visible gills under his collar vanishing.
Almost absently, he starts petting the cat rubbing up against his side.]
Don't worry. We've got fresh fish, at least. Not sure about octopus but we can probably find something.
[Yknow, other than him.]
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[So rambling was what he has to offer. Once Izunia initiates the contact Nyx does his best to press his leg a little more firmly against the other man? Yes, yes he's back to being a man again, not a fish.]
I've hunted them before.
[Clearly the important thing here. The thing to be concerned with. Eating fish. But first he has to stop feeling like he's going to throw up.]
You... okay?
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[In, out, until he can be steady on his own. Yeah, not very well is one way to put it.]
It's a very long story, and all of it tied together. You have no idea how many problems the line of kings actually has, trust me. And you've as much right to know as any at this point, it's just a story that will take time to tell.
[With that in mind, Izunia pulls himself up and braces to set the leg. First, though, a phone from his armiger to text the medical staff - better to let them know now that they're about to have a troublesome patient.]
Ready for that leg?
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[As nauseous as he is from pain and then powering through half a dozen bottles of curatives he'd still give anything for a beer right about now. Or something harder. Definitely an occasion for breaking out the good shit.]
Not really any being ready for that sort of thing.
[He shrugs but then reaches back, snags one of the rich blue tails of his sash and rolls it, twisting it up tight and then shoving the thick rope of fabric into his mouth, between his teeth like a bit. He bites down a little, tests it, then nods to Izunia.
Ready as he'll ever be.]
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[He's carrying, that's what he's saying here. You have Choices.
Nyx gets a nod in return and Izunia stretches his wrists a bit before he reaches up, forcing the bone back into its proper position - a job a little harder than it has to be with all the curatives already at work, but it's what has to be done and Izunia does it as efficiently as he can, all business. And then a second realignment, when the first isn't quite right, and then he uses his own arm as a brace while cracking the bottle of a curative right over the break with the other.
It's not until that that he flinches.]
Alright. That should at least bear weight until you're properly in medical, but if you think I'm letting you walk there on your own you're out of your godsdamn mind.
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The first adjustment comes and he bites down hard on the gag he's made himself, snarling and wheezing out a breath that's not really a sound but has an edge of a high pitched wheeze to it. The fact that he's in a lawn chair of all things completely slips his mind and he slams his fist down onto the arm of the chair. He doesn't scream, hell he doesn't even tear up, he just bears down on the gag and pants, trying to bring his breathing back under control.
With how fucked his leg is he expects it to take more than two, honestly, so when the second burst of pain subsides and Izunia pops another bottle over his knee Nyx slumps back against the chair, counting under his breath, forcing himself to control his breathing before he does something ridiculous like pass out or start crying.
And if the chair is listing to one side now that the arm's bent in half well... can he really be blamed for that?]
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[There can be little to no doubt that the Founder King was a parent in his own time, with how automatically he shifts into the comforting tone. He straightens up and offers Nyx a hand to squeeze - he's less fragile than the chair, he can deal with it - until the man is ready to move.]
It's not that far to our medbay - inside and a bit of an elevator trip. But I should warn you that most of our medical staff isn't human here, so... Don't panic and please don't stab anyone.
[He likes his primary doctor and his FWB unstabbed, please, Nyx, do him this.]
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Not human? [He finally croaks out, slumping back into the chair for a moment before looking over towards the door, judging the distance. He can make that. Surely he can make that.
And he'sdoing his damnedest to push himself up out of the chair and to his feet. Fuck your warnings Izunia. He will move under his own godsdamned power.]
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Mmm - it's late enough in the morning that Jet's probably already gone to bed, so it'll be Strange on duty - they're an android, more human-looking than Niflheim's damn magitek at least. Jetshard's the other main person on medical staff, and she's a troll - tall grey-skinned alien with horns, very good friend of mine.
[It's apparently his turn to just straight up babble as they make their way to the doors and inside.]
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Android? [he sounds as startled and uncertain as he can while still gritting his teeth to force his way through the pain.] You're sure it's not Magitek?
[Because like fuck he's letting an MT anywhere near him. He would literally rather die.
At least he's not too proud to let Izunia hold the door for him?]
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[He'll hold the door and even bow, because when have the Lucis Caelums not been incredibly extra motherfuckers?]
On account of the fact that they're native to this world, where Niflheim doesn't even exist. Welcome to Keystone Station, home to any number of the multiverse's lost socks, keys, and people.
[It's thankfully quiet through the halls this morning as Izunia steps by to lead the way to the elevator. No one else around at this hour, at least at the moment.]
If you'd absolutely prefer, though, I can drag Jet back out, but her skill with magical healing isn't near as good anyway.
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