Author's Note: Okay so maybe Dirk's not setting foot into the City just yet.
xxxx
/Long ago, in the sense of both narrative and fate itself: from a time where one story came to an end, and countless others started moving once more.../
The gears of Origin began to turn, once more: the Endless Now would soon cease, as the clock prepared to tick forward.
Alvis — sensing the departure of Shulk and Rex, their worlds pulling them away, as magnets upon iron — opened his eyes, looking at A, and Ontos, and Ousia, and every aspect of himself and herself and itself: a singular entity, spun in different directions based on the inputs of so many different people (a mere machine, elevated by the hands of gods and men). As the arbiter of the Trinity Processor, the influence of those inputs could result in little else. "And so...through the great engine of Origin, the worlds will split apart. Yet, the fundamental building blocks will be of the same kind...and hence, yearning for each other, they will instead achieve Complementation, instead of Annihilation."
"And yet it will not change their desires."
Alvis glanced at the flickering form of Moebius: even though Z had been rendered a wretched and feeble thing, he still persisted. "How curious. You continue to exist?"
"A desire can never be extinguished: not when it is fundamental to humanity's very nature," said Z: his voice, once grand and confident, echoed with all the force of a withering crone. "Even bereft of control, we are empowered. Even now, the fear of change...the fear of the future...it continues to rise. And so we live, unable to die; unable to be killed; unable to not be."
Alvis observed as two teams of four raced towards each other, striving for just one more moment: a testament to just how much letting go pained them so, in the face of an uncertain tomorrow. "Perhaps. And yet, in the world to come, it would be best to observe from afar. Introducing bias into the sample is quite the misstep, after all."
"A clinical view, ye who were once my god." Z's face, slowly reforming, flickered with the anger of lost causes and missed opportunities; however, the banal reality of just how commonplace his motive was would soon smother that anger, returning it to a calm and collected acceptance. "And what of those who you once desired to free? The life of the new, separate from Keves and Agnus: they had no place in the olden worlds. Even now, in spite of their confidence and hidden dread, they teeter on the edge of oblivion."
"That is true." The people of the City had a physical and spiritual presence uniquely their own, not rooted in either Keves or Agnus; for that reason, despite tracing their origins to one or both of the original worlds, they had no prior state to revert to. "Once the worlds converge, the act of annihilation would require additional energy, so simply destroying them would introduce unneeded complexity. Unmooring their spirits in the hopes of future physical incarnation would be...inefficient." The simplest solution would be best, after all.
Thus, as the Intersection passed into memory, and the Rejoining immediately proceeded, Alvis nudged Origin: a slight tap with his boot, as if prompting an unthinking animal to follow the path it would have wanted to walk regardless...
xxxx
/Immediately after the Rejoining/
Monica Vandham's insides lurched: as though she had just leapt across a great gap, only to land sooner than unexpected. She heard grunts around her, from those equally surprised. "What...?" Her immediate memories were strangely in flux, as the sensation of two worlds coming apart — only to immediately come back together(?) — dominated her thoughts. The reality of being on an unknown shore escaped her, lit by a setting sun which was similar yet different from what she remembered; the odd feeling of looking at the original version of a famous painting or photograph was what the sight evoked, paradoxically enough.
"...Elder, where are we?"
The nervous yet steady voice of Travis rooted her into the moment. Focus. "The new world promised by Ouroboros, perhaps. We have no way of knowing." The sand, the nearby long grasses, even the dampness of the ocean wind: it was all foreign to her. Doubtless it was likewise to her fellows. Raising a hand to her Iris, she frowned at the poor signal and lack of range. I guess that's to be expected; we're no longer in Moebius's world. One more project to add to a rapidly growing list. "Gray, scout the area. Take whoever you need."
The grizzled gunslinger grunted, acknowledging her order as he grabbed for several Lost Numbers, directing them on a certain patrol pattern. Loner though he was, Gray wasn't fool enough to go alone into a completely alien area.
Her daughter stepped up besides her, looking up with a distinctive frown — petulant, almost bratty in how cocksure she was — that was marred by just a hint of uncertainty. "None of those dags from Keves or Agnus are around."
"...perhaps we'll run into them," murmured Monica, even as she quickly took command of the situation.
The nasally voice of Samon — kind and elderly Nopon though he was — broke through her introspection. "Meh, what is blue light in sky?"
Monica followed the direction of the yellow Nopon's wing-hand, staring as a single mote descended through the sky: a shooting star, perhaps. "As good a mark as any to start heading towards," she said. Even as she presented a confident image to the Cityfolk that had gathered with her — witnesses of the end of Aionios, however that would have come about — she could not help but wonder about their contingencies. We left people back in the City, and there were a number of crews who set out to isolated sectors of Aionios before the invasion of Origin...where have they ended up?
xx
As it turned out, they didn't have to look far: said crews, upon realizing they were in a completely different world, had apparently elected to rendezvous back at the City. With the immense Ferronis resting within a vast plain of wheat — more akin to a field of gold, a bounty the likes of which Aionios had never possessed — finding it had been simple.
Monica did not know if it was an act of fate or providence that had brought the contingency crews within such close proximity to their home, but she was grateful nonetheless. It was a strange balm to her heart, seeing her home looming at peace within a wide plain. (The pragmatic sensibilities of the Elder were calling it an open target.)
For one thing, a trio of transporters had formed a ring around the landing site of the blue light. Lost Numbers stood at the edge, unwilling to enter. Their hesitancy was mostly because of the humanoid shape at the center: mangled, with nothing left below the waist. Obviously artificial, yet still bearing enough humanity to be unnerving.
Monica was utterly dumbfounded for one simple reason: it was a sign that the new world they lived in was not a blank slate, and had a history of its own. A history that they had no context for. "Keep this area secure; we'll need to get our brainy types on this." It was strangely cathartic, defaulting to the authoritative persona of the Elder; it was the comfort of an old pair of boots, well-worn and reliable.
(The heartfelt sentimentality of her maternal side was less enthusiastic.)
Nearby, the head of House Cassini was far less perturbed by the current state of affairs. "My oh my," said Masha, her distinctive hair — akin to streams of water and cloud in color, arranged in overly elaborate twintails that could only belong to a showboater — fluttering in the wind. "What a fascinating world we've found ourselves in~"
xx
Garrett Doyle walked through the City, relishing the familiarity of it amidst an unfamiliar world.
Even as countless Cityfolk tried to get their bearings, he was right as rain. The City had survived the end of Aionios; as far as he was concerned, they now had plenty of time to figure out where they stood. Now that they were no longer threatened by the eternal war between Keves and Agnus, possibilities that he had long considered beyond reach...well, it was best not to get ahead of himself. There was no reason for relief to override reason.
That's when he came across a young woman, sitting stoically in the grass of Virid Park.
Even without the crimson armor he last recalled her wearing, Garrett recognized the distinctive pigtails of Shania Reid. "You're alive," he said, with surprise he was unable to mute.
"...somehow," she admitted. Her voice was quiet, yet loud in its bitterness; it was a painful thing to witness, even from someone who was an avowed enemy of the City. "I don't know how. I don't know why. But I am." The eyes of a dead woman looked up at him, wondering if he would render them dead again. "So. What now?"
Garrett sighed, assessing the situation for what it was. Tapping at his temple, he discreetly sent a message over his Iris — inwardly grimacing at the poor range; restoring signal fidelity for the Cityfolk's Iris Network would have to be a major priority — to the nearest available security. "That's a very good question; you betrayed the City for Moebius. You gave them knowledge of where to strike us; had we not been within a Ferronis, we would have perished. Then, after becoming Moebius yourself, you attacked the City in person." (He could still remember the sensation of becoming a living statue: feeling, thinking, breathing, and unable to move or do anything about it.) "I imagine that quite a few of our number would shoot you where you stand. Such is the penalty for treason."
"...then what's stopping you?"
That was also a good question. "Uncertainty," he replied, much to her apparent confusion. "However, we seem to now have ample opportunity to rectify that." As two men approached them — both briefly stopping at the sight of Shania, recognizing her as a traitor — Garrett said, "In the meantime, you'll be placed in gaol. At least, until your fate will be decided upon by the Senate." With a simple flick of his head, Garrett ordered the two security personnel to seize Shania.
The young woman did not resist as they grabbed her by the arms.
xxxx
And thus did the Cityfolk find themselves amidst a new passage of fate: where it went?
That was up to them to decide...
xxxx
Author's Note: A little bit of an interlude, giving some insight into the immediate aftermath of the Rejoining in the eyes of the Cityfolk.
My take on the Irises is that they're physical enhancements directly bred into Kevesis and Agnians by Moebius, to give the Consuls a means by which to control them. Since it's genetically hardwired into their right or left eye, it's still retained by the Cityfolk at the time of the main plot of Xenoblade 3.
For those who had originally hailed from the worlds of XC1 or XC2 (Shulk, Rex, and company), it goes without saying that they lack this Iris, because it never existed for them.
Which means the Cityfolk who now live in this world are the sole possessors of this technology. Lucky them!
/Alvis just being a bro
/for his 'new life' homies