[hatch log] pull plug, enter multiverse

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :025 - :026
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in Station 72, a hatch happens; new hosts arrive on Concordia.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

YOU WAKE UP and in a very real sense you are born again. You’re not the same person you were the last time your eyes were open. You’ll never be that person again - well, except for you, Jessica Jones. You know how this part goes, don’t you?

You might not know it right away, though. What you do know is that you’re laying down in a place very different than you were before. The walls angle around you, claustrophobic, and they emit a gentle white light that’s faint enough not to hurt your freshly opened eyes. For a moment you feel fine even if you didn’t before you went under. Whatever injuries you might have had, whatever agony you may have been experiencing, whatever fear dogged your heels, they’re all gone. It’s quiet. When you’re conscious enough to take stock of anything beyond that, you realize that you’re wearing your own clothes and that there’s a faint pinch at the base of your skull - notable as the only discomfort you feel. Reach up, feel along the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment’s back wall. It pulls free without much fuss.

Then it’s not so quiet anymore. There’s the sensation of something more, something louder, something both big and broad and something intimately near to you. There’s the realization that you aren’t alone, that you won’t ever be alone again. You belong here. This is as correct as the murmur of something like muffled voices in the back of your head is somehow familiar, or how the press of emotion that sweeps over you now doesn’t necessarily belong to you but doesn’t feel out of place either.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet, and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you, as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. You can hear a sound in the back of your head, a faint buzzing, something like distant waves or the murmur of a party behind a door. Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone - and the those sounds in your head are louder. Other people’s thoughts swim up: some of them seem clear, most of them are a jumbled mess. Some of these people call to you - their voices are louder, their feelings more clear, they feel right. Further, there’s an awareness that there are others like you - not here, not close, but somewhere: an indelible tug at the back of your mind.

Welcome to Station 72. All new hosts will have one day aboard the Station before being whisked off to Concordia to join the others. Get to know the other new hosts, and ask the guardians of the Station - Prince and Cathaway -, any burning questions you might have. By the time the day has passed, Carata will arrive on the hangar to collect you.



MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA Angel slips into a coma on :025 at almost at the exact same time that some Hosts become aware of missing pieces fitting into place. Those hosts with new brood members waking up on the station will feel somewhere more complete; you might want to let everyone know you’ll be getting new roommates soon.

Everyone might be putting themselves and their broods back together in the wake of the explosion that left the nest down one host and injected everyone with renewed motivation to either find the people responsible or make sure nothing like what happened at Royal Street ever happens again. Things are progressing on multiple fronts, but on DAY 26 there’s an option to put some of those efforts on the back burner...

     ON THE STATION, the new hosts are herded onto a sleek, black brick-shaped transport. Carata, a woman young enough to almost be called a girl, carefully makes sure everyone is seated and strapped in. She’s all gentle, easy smiles and cheerful responses to any questions posed to her. When everyone’s safely aboard, the ship’s landing platform descends through the floor of the hangar. It snaps into place in the airlock and for a moment there’s a beat of perfect stillness, a shiver of anticipation. Then the transport is flung through the shaft, ejected into the wild black of space. There’s a nauseating lurch in your belly as it bursts through the delicate shell of the multiverse and snaps into real space above the blue and yellow marble of the planet Opia. Somewhere, thousands of miles below in the city of Concordia, your brood is waiting for you.

     IN CONCORDIA
IN CONCORDIA, as dark falls, Nirad announces he’s going to fetch Carata and the new hosts from their landing. Anyone’s welcome to accompany him on the hour long drive to the stealth transport’s landing zone. The rented bus - manned by that same (now very stoic) android - takes everyone to the outskirts of the industrial block. They arrive at a different parking garage just as the stealth transport drops out of the sky, shivering into sight as it touches down. The hosts on the ship step down and then the stealth transport lifts back off the rooftop and wrinkles out of sight. It’s unclear how many more time they’ll be able to get away with this.

Get your meet and greets in and stretch your legs; you have a few minutes before everyone piles into the van and takes the long drive back to the Bearings Apartment block where the hosts have rented out the entirely of Level 13. New hosts will find there are rooms there that as of yet unclaimed, and they’re free to begin making this their home in whatever ways they please. Get familiar with your new comrades, explore the city, or maybe just take a well deserved breather. Officially speaking, nothing much happens until--

     EARLY ON DAY 27

A NEW WINDOW POPS UP IN YOUR EXTRANET PANEL...

---

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs; a top level for Cathaway and Prince will be going live shortly. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts! For anything happening beyond these calendar dates, feel free to create your own logs and posts.

If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[batmotif]

DAY 26; TRANSPORT

[When the ship lurches forward, ejecting itself into the vastness of space itself, Bruce barely reacts, the only sign of acknowledgement coming from the way his fingers grip around his knees, ever so faintly. He should be impressed, even begrudgingly, at the sight of the planet hovering below them, but his focus lies elsewhere, too caught up in the sensations, thoughts, and emotions that aren't his to bother.

He hates the connection; it's far too personal for his liking, dancing on the edge of spilled secrets and private memories. Even more, he hates that there's a distant part of his mind that tells him that it feels right, like he's a piece of a puzzle that snaps perfectly into place -- a smaller part of a whole.

He closes his eyes, trying to push that feeling from his mind, trying to remember how he... was, before the ridiculous notion of a multiverse came into play. He would have to cling to that memory, that piece of him who knew what it was like to be unconnected to complete strangers, else this new part of him that welcomed the change might become more comfortable than he'd prefer.

And so Bruce is quiet and intensely sorting out his own thoughts, trying to push away the rest. He doesn't want to borrow the nervousness of others around him, nor does he want their trepidation. Thus, anyone who happens to be projecting onto him will feel their own emotions pushed back in their metaphorical faces, more prominent than before. It probably isn't the most pleasant feeling, but that's not his concern right now.]

DAY 26; SETTLING IN

[Bruce's state of mind has barely changed, a futile, stubborn sort of denial of the bombardment of connections that are new and unwanted, trying to build up a mental wall to keep it all out. His mileage varies, of course, with an inconsistency that becomes frustrating, and being frustrated is really the last thing he needs, the arch-nemesis of focus itself.

Even so, Bruce is only human. A very stubborn human, but human nonetheless. He can't deny the innate connection he feels to what he assumes are his "broodmates". Without even trying, he can feel the push and pull of their minds, like a spider tugging on its web. This, he's learning, is easily the most difficult mental invasion to shove away, and all his attempts so far have been an exercise in futility.

He had found his room in record time (or rather, took the first unoccupied one he could find on Level 13) and put away his things just as quickly. He had no intention of staying however, leaving mere minutes after settling in, making his way down the hall to find the nearest set of stairs leading to the roof. He had to clear his head, to focus, to regroup. He had to make sense of everything that was happening to him, and some naive part of him thought that if he could physical space between himself and these other "hosts", then perhaps peace of mind would be easier to achieve.

So if he brushes past you, without even a hint of acknowledgement, don't be offended. Or hell, be offended. It's unlikely he'll care either way.]

26 - transport

[tropism]

Your face will get stuck like that, you know.

[ it's a softly murmured tease, one that comes after giorno realizes that someone's pushing against him. he's been trying to follow the line of emotions, connections, here and there, just to see where it leads him, though he's not pushing any further if he finds even the slightest bit of resistance. the point was to get used to the voices and to the way he's linked to everyone simultaneously, and not to be any more invasive than necessary. ]

[batmotif]

[Someone's speaking to him, and it pulls Bruce just enough away from his thoughts to turn to look at the stranger. Bruce exhales in what might be interpreted as a sigh, though he tries to hold in his exasperation.]

It's hard to be all smiles after everything that's happened.

[It's a dry response, but a sincere sentiment nonetheless.]

[tropism]

I don't expect that'll happen soon. It takes time to settle.

[ giorno folds his hands over his lap, watching him. most of the people in this ship look older than he is, although he's aware that some of the kids might be around his age. none of them look familiar, or are from his world. it's kind of making him ache for home, though he wouldn't dare voice that now, when all of them are practically in the same boat, anyway. ] Do you need to talk?

[ he's well aware that he could say no, but the trip will be a while, and it won't do if they're both tense. might as well offer it on the table. ]

[batmotif]

Not particularly. [-comes the response, quick and unyielding in its bluntness. He doesn't mean to be cold (though he would not care right now if he was); Bruce says it as more of a kneejerk response to all that's happened around him. Talking would not help quiet his mind about the matter, it would only open it up more clearly for others to peer into.

Now, on the cusp of landing on an alien planet, he's not sure he wants to allow that just yet.

That isn't to say that he won't indulge in a bit of conversation that has to do with something else. He reminds himself that ignorantly going through the motions of what he's told to do, unquestioningly, isn't preferable. At all. At the very least, he should get a sense of the others around him, and start to slowly make mental notes to be filed away for later -- what purpose it'll serve, he's sure time will tell.]

Though I never caught your name.

settling

[adamance]

[Physical space is necessary when someone cannot achieve mental space. The proximity between the Hosts does help in terms of feeling emotions, but there is always a tug, a pull, a reminder of what lies from a distance. Still, Lexa prefers her privacy, and prefers the distance, whether it's while taking to the streets of the city or coming to the roof. The latter is always her preference, and it's where she sits now, eyes closed and mind cleared—except for where it seems as if she's communicating with someone.

That's in part because she is, mind connected to the Flame in the back of her head to plan. She switches gears when she finds herself needing to consider the emotions of another, and her eyes open to take in the image of the new Host. (New because he feels unfamiliar, because he's a presence that hasn't been here.) The resonance that comes off of Lexa is restrained, and she doesn't move from her cross-legged seat on the ground near the edge of the roof.

It isn't the first time she's come across someone here, or had someone come across her. If anything, it's happening all the more frequently.]

You're new. [Her gaze is steady and unwavering as she observes him.] Have you met your brood yet?

[Idly, she wonders if he will be like Parker and will assume that she is just as connected to this mess as anyone else.

But it's not a thought that she openly projects. Lexa has largely left the welcoming of newcomers to the others, claiming time with them later. But as she's beginning to be more proactive about getting people to where they belong, it seems she may have to alter that particular routine.]

[batmotif]

[Setting foot on the rooftop, Bruce briefly finds respite in the sudden openness of space, taking a vague comfort in pure familiarity; how often did he gaze down upon Gotham from its rooftops, from its skyscrapers? Even in the black of night, the city revealed all from above, open and vast, alive. It's a surge of nostalgia that shouldn't be considered nostalgia at all -- he hadn't even been displaced from home for a handful of days. But the associations are too strong to ignore, and instead of hindering them, they bolster the man, so he accepts the sentiment instead of pushing it aside or within, as he has a habit of doing.

It doesn't last for long, anyway. There's the distinct sense of someone here, their presence solidifying in his mind, even before he glances over at the figure seated near the edge of the roof.

Out of habit, he steels himself, not because he feels threatened, but because he remains in an unfamiliar situation, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, regardless of mental link. And this was a situation where his usual public face to strangers -- Bruce Wayne, Playboy Billionaire -- was of little use. So instead of a faux smile (he's not graced anyone with one of those yet), Lexa receives an even stare. A moment passes before he takes a step or two forward, drawing nearer, if only by a yard or two.]

I've met a couple of them. [The experiences were far more difficult to handle, in terms of keeping up mental barriers. To the point where even his attempts were the most laughable sort.

He doesn't expand from there. He doesn't feel the need to explain his hesitance to being a part of a literal hive mind to someone who doesn't specifically ask. Instead:]

Not inclined to say hello to all the new faces?

[adamance]

[It's likely that he'll come to know about the Flame before long. One of her plans in motion involves it, though she's still uncertain about whether she will be able to adequately replicate it before they're too late. That's part of why her focus has shifted toward other matters: stymieing the progression of things in order to better this world's future. She fears for any hivemind like the one that's destroyed her home, which is an irony considering the symbiote within her body. Just the same, it isn't the time to introduce him to that factor. He's just arrived.]

We're in the middle of a mission. [As if that says everything. She may have appeared to be meditating, and that's where the Flame explanation would be useful. But most people (even Clarke once) take meditating as meditating.] There's a lot to be arranged. We've suffered a lot of setbacks. [That involves planning.

Her hands come to hang loosely at her sides, fingertips loosely brushing over the ground of the roof.]

Besides, my brood has been full for some time. It's unlikely that anyone will arrive who directly concerns me. [Admittedly, there is some denial in this statement: Lexa would prefer that no one else turns up from her world. She clings to this belief so thoroughly that she believes that she can make it into a reality.]

[batmotif]

[In the middle of a mission. Despite the events of the day, Bruce had managed a meager cursory reading of the briefing. He had even picked up on the passing thoughts of others regarding it, filling in what holes were still missing in the details. There was still more research to be done, still more internal struggles to fight, concerning whether or not he felt any real obligation to aid these efforts to come to pass. Being an agent to anyone other than himself is a foreign concept to the man; he does not take well to it, but what other options are there, just yet?

(That's a debate for later, he tells himself, late into the night when sleep slips through his grasp.)

Instead, he responds evenly:] Being a part of a literal hivemind, I would assume that any new host would directly concern you. One more cog in the machine.

[It hadn't slipped past him that this woman appeared to be meditating, or at least concentrating on something, before he arrived on the rooftop. He figures the mention of a mission segue enough to ask:] Is that what you're doing now? Arranging?

[Bruce means mentally, mostly, but he doesn't like to assume one way or another.]

26 - Rooftop

[greentech]

[ Pidge has found the roof. Partially because she wants a better view of the city, partially because it offers a better view of the sky. She's sitting near the edge, legs drawn up to her chest, head tilted back, as if she can catch a glimpse of a ship or... well, anything up there, past the haze of the atmosphere and the drifting clouds. Somewhere out there, in the wide blue yonder, is her family. She feels like she's been dragged back from the progress she's made.

Maybe she should build another space radio.

She glances up, shifting her weight as she hears the door open. She blinks at Bruce and then lifts her hand in a slightly awkward wave. ]

Uh, hi. You were in the pod room, right? I'm Pidge.

[batmotif]

[Bruce had retreated to the rooftop for a chance at solitude -- it seemed that he wouldn't quite be granted that much, but rather company with the young girl he remembers from the pods. Their mutual "hatching" experience, as it was said.

If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it. It may not be complete solitude, but even in the company of one complete stranger, the roof affords a view that is calming, that gives him the illusion of being able to breathe under the pressure of swirling thoughts and emotions.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets; he doesn't give her a wave in return, but at least an incline of the head in acknowledgement.]

That's right, I remember you. I wasn't exactly in the mood for introductions at the time.

[There was no room for propriety then, but perhaps even Bruce can afford a small bit now, summoning up a bit of his more public persona to do so.]

I'm Bruce. Am I interrupting?

[greentech]

[ Pidge doesn't seem too put off by how reserved he is. He's older. That's how they are, right? She turns to face him, scooting back from the edge and shrugging. ]

That's OK. I don't think any of us were. Waking up in a weird alien pod is kinda weird. Not a great wake-up call.

[ Haha, is joke. She smiles weakly and then a bit broader as they finally get to introductions. ]

You can call me Pidge. Nice to meet you, Bruce. Even if this whole thing is super weird. Oh, uh, no, you're not interrupting. I was just thinking and trying to see if I could get a decent look at the stars, but I think there's going to be too much light pollution. That's the one thing I miss about Garrison - I could actually see the night sky really well and now I kinda miss it.

[ She's starting to babble a bit. Oops. ]

[batmotif]

["Weird" is one word for it. Were Bruce of a different mindset, he would have called it traumatic. But for now, weird, in its many forms, works.

Even if she's babbling a bit, Bruce seems unaffected, and oddly enough, listening. At her mention of the stars, he can't help but crane his neck up to look at the night sky, dotted with constellations he didn't recognize. Whereas the roof would breed familiarity, the star themselves reminded him that he was remarkably far from home. From the street and lights of Gotham.

He frowns, pushing it from his mind for now. No point in mulling over something that would disrupt his focus, derail his mind via a vague, gnawing desperation in the back of his thoughts.]

Garrison? [He returns his gaze to Pidge.] Is that where you're from?

settling.

[unsea]

[ 'SUP. ]

[ For the record, he gives the new member of their little clan as much time as he can, before approaching him. Carving out a physical space all to oneself is important. It may feel futile, among members who are more vigilant about their... deeper connection, but it's a satisfying reminder of one's individuality among a collective, nonetheless. Which would be why he doesn't corner Bruce on the roof, a few hours after his arrival, after everyone else might have come to say their piece and all of Bruce's subsequent... prowling.

It's just that they'll meet sooner or later, after all. Why not now? ]

Don't worry, [ he gets out of the way of the door, in case his new broodmember isn't inclined to stick around. And, not unkindly, he reassures: ] I'm not here to ask your acceptance.

[batmotif]

[YO]

[Some small part of him would admit that he's lingering, not eager to return to his room just yet, to indulge himself in the rest that his body needs after experiencing such an abrupt change of... everything. Bruce is already prone to sleepless nights (or rather, of nights long and unending), and he already knows that his mind will not allow for a restful slumber tonight. There's still too much noise that he can't block out, too much static that still crackles loudly, in unpredictable bursts that even he cannot hope to mute.

But when this new stranger approaches him, he feels something else again -- that strange, unwanted closeness of a broodmate. The connection that some alien part of him tells him is right, that his solitude was just a farce, and his mind was bound to them from here on out.

(It's that alien part of him that he hates the most. It isn't him.)

Bruce doesn't leave, nor does he respond, not quite yet. He's trying to judge how to respond without feeling out with his mind; something that has become much harder than it should be, as of late. Finally, with a tone that attempts to betray little:]

Asking for acceptance is a little redundant if you're already in my head.

[unsea]

[ From the doorway, he makes his way over to one of the large, square units that line the rooftop. A cooling system, maybe. Electricity hub. Whatever it is, it's large and slightly-dented from any number of inter-nest scuffles that have come up as a result of their... mixed feelings towards one another, and it's upon that unit that he climbs and sits. A dark, bound book - strange commodity for a world fixated on technological advancement - held loose in his hands, resting in his lap. From his perch, he's able to regard Bruce. There's distance between them, if only physical.

He considers something, in silence, and replies: ] Perhaps. You are in mine, as well.

[ A two-way road. Bruce's will -- is a steady thing, strong, present and respectable. It reminds him of Steve, a little. ]

I meant of any of this, though. [ The Station, the nest, Concordia, missions. Leaving everything behind. ] But yes, especially...

[ Gesturing, from his temple to Bruce. Yes. That most of all. ]

26.

[deployed]

It doesn't work, [ Bellamy volunteers without preamble. Why waste time? ] Not at first.

[ Though Bellamy's faintly envious at the way Bruce has rebuffed connections thus far. He's disciplined in a way Bellamy wasn't, and it reminds him of Lexa. Maybe he won't have as difficult a time of it as Bellamy did. Maybe he'll wall himself off with success. Bellamy's curiosity is a creeping tendril, seeking connection in spite of himself. ]

Some of the others could help you.

[ Angel his thoughts whisper, distress flickering in the wake of the name. She's sleeping. Bellamy doesn't know what that means, but he's worried about it all the same. ]

[batmotif]

[It isn't Bellamy's words that cause Bruce to stop in his tracks, though they do accentuate the man's abrupt halt. Rather, it was the connection that gave him pause, an unwavering link that could only be attributed to what must be another broodmate. That in itself is worth the interruption of his trek to the roof, as determined as he had been yet moments ago.

Regardless, he still tries to keep a barrier up, a mental arms length away. His success varies from moment to moment, but the effort alone adds a steadiness of mind that repositions his focus in the face of uncertainty. Yet in the presence of another broodmate, even a passing interest is difficult to censure; Bellamy's curiosity would yield fruit, if he were so inclined to direct it at Bruce. Most prominently, images of a darkened city, thoughts of home that he's been trying to keep pinned down -- all that he's left behind, in the wake of his arrival.]

I won't be needing help. [ -he responds, inherently knowing what his broodmate was referring to. The whisper of the name Angel floats through his mind, mingled with worry, and it's filed away in his memory, despite himself.] I just need practice.

[A beat.] Gacrux, isn't it? [His brood he means. You, is the implication.] How much of it is futile, keeping broodmates out? [Out of his head.]

[deployed]

[ City. The brief impression lingers even as Bellamy tries to avert the urge to latch on and unravel the newly arrived mystery of his broodmate. That's potentially an answer in and of itself, but Bellamy politely tries to verbalize it for him. ]

Yes, [ Bellamy acknowledges, the answering echo of Me. Us. punctuating the assessment. ] It's not impossible. It's difficult.

[ And it's too easy to slip. The Darkling and Bellamy, for all their initial distaste, had found the lines blurring between them. Familiarity made the exchange of thought and memory as natural as breathing. And familiarity couldn't be helped. They were here to accomplish a specific mission, and working together as one led to friendship. It wasn't dangerous in and of itself, but Bellamy knew all too well that what it could potentially lead to must be avoided at all costs. ]

You'd be smart to find someone here to practice with. Some of them know techniques that help.

[ But that required a certain amount of trust. Bellamy is already certain that's not going to come easily to this new broodmate. ]

[cognitived]

[ Clint couldn't have missed the new arrivals, even if he tried. There's a large group of them, this time, and several seem familiar in a way he's become used to. It feels -- right, complete, even if it's a shadow of a thing still.

He's heading up to the roof himself, though. Bow and quiver slung over his back, a make shift tool set wrapped in hand. Here, he hasn't had much cause to use his archery as he'd prefer. It's too unusual, too noticeable. But even so, it doesn't hurt to check over his weaponry. So he's leaving his room, door sliding open beneath his hand, right as Bruce happens to walk by. They don't bump into each other, though it's more due to reflexes than anything, but the quick slotting rightness that jolts through him has Clint withdrawing anyway. He'd given the others their time too, careful, cautious, unwanting of this web that tangled their minds together.

Guess his luck ran out on this one. ]

Sorry, man. [ He says anyway, edging out from the doorway, unconsciously shifting so his quiver didn't bang into the frame. There's a faint understanding, soft at the edge of Bruce's frustration. ] Too loud down here?

[ He's still heading up to his perch though, so, guess you have company now, bats. ]

[batmotif]

[Bruce's steady gait wavers as Clint comes out from his room, a slight hitch in the rhythm of his walk, as if the mental completeness of a broodmate so suddenly in close proximity was nearly enough to throw him off-balance.

He steadies himself as Clint shuffles by, his eyes drawn to the bow and quiver peeking over his back. (For a moment, he wonders where he received such equipment -- though Bruce doesn't specialize in archery per se, it would have been nice to have arrived with anything from Gotham that would have been of use to him. A grappling gun, smoke bombs, even a single batarang.)

The "loudness" seems amplified, being so mentally connected as they are, and Bruce doubles his efforts to keep his barriers up. To regain enough focus to keep even these particularly close hosts at an arms-length away. It looks like he'll have to, because Clint seems to be heading the same way he was going.]

Too loud, too fast. [As in, how fast everything has changed, practically overnight.] I'm having trouble focusing.

[cognitived]

[ Clint's a spy, and a damned good one if he did say so himself, so there's no real way he missed the waver in Bruce's walk. It's small, nothing more than a little blip on the radar, but it's there. In the flesh, beneath his muscle and bone and blood. Broodmate, written deep into the very code of them both.

Fletching, beneath his fingers; red hair, soft lullabies; breath in, out, again, again -- wisps of his own slip free even as he calms.

Well, nothing to be done about it now. Clint merely draws back as much as he can, winding back behind crumbling walls, faint apology and resignation in the touch of his mind. It's hard to fully disengage, but Clint gets it, he really does. His own unease is old, muddled, veining beneath it all. ]

Yeah, the first few days are rough. [ More than a little rough, if you're a paranoid assassin with mind control issues. Still, he leads the way up to the roof, some of the mental noise spiraling away behind their feet. It's not quite far enough to truly feel alone in their heads, especially with company, but it's better. Easier. ] It gets easier to get a hold of.

26 - rooftop

[frakkincylons]

[ if he was hoping to get entirely away from anyone in the nest by going to the roof, he'll be sorely disappointed, as that's where sam spends his many smoke breaks, more frequent as of recent losses. there's also ilde's small garden of potted plants off to the side, but no trace of the woman herself at the moment. just sam, with a chair pulled up to the cement lip that guards the edge of the building, watching the city below bustling.

perking his head up, eyes slip to bruce as he makes his way up, and Sam watches him a second. he isn't a broodmate, so that's fortunate enough for bruce, but he has been in the nest long enough that he knows one of his own when he sees them. or, feels them, rather. and can tell enough that he's frustrated as hell. ]

It gets easier. First few days are a bitch, but your mind'll adjust.

[batmotif]

[It seems like solitude will be a slippery thing for now, but Bruce can at least appreciate that one person is better than a multitude of them, on the floors below. He sets his jaw, looking at the man in the chair, likely seated near the edge of the roof to take in the night sky.

Just as Sam can tell Bruce belongs to the nest, something in Bruce tells him the same. It's a feeling he's not quite used to, and not one he's sure he ever wants to get used to.

People telling him that it'll get easier, well, he sees an issue with that. Bruce responds, something not-quite-irritated but certainly not exactly content in his tone.]

I'm not sure settling into a hive mind is something I ever wished for my mind to adjust to.

[frakkincylons]

I’d love to tell you you got a choice in that, but.

[ The sentence is finished more in a shrug than saying “tough shit, it’s permanent”. Much as the Nest and the Symbiotes are unsettling, the truth is that this was the last resort. None of them were brought here, to live like this, until there wasn’t another option.

Maybe a lot of people don’t believe that, but Sam’s had a few lifetimes too much of scared people inventing up reasons to call something unfamiliar malicious. What he knows is what he knows, and until something further crops up, that’s what he’s sticking to. ]

Look at it this way. You’re not dead. If you were home, without the hivemind, you’d be dead. Price of life admission.