[MISSION LOG] GET IN THE CAR

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Avera 9
WHEN: Day :156 - 160
SUMMARY: Welcome to the jungle muddy junk pile in space. Avera 9, pt.1
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.

THERE IS AN EXPECTATION that all hosts meet on the flight deck; that much is obvious on waking - something that, strangely, all new hosts seem to have done at the same time. Pack your things, says a gut sensation. It's time to go somewhere different.

ONCE ASSEMBLED, it isn't long before Prince and Cathaway make their own appearances. They have a set of kits with them - one for each young host - and a square that unfolds into a data pad with mission details. Each kit contains some of the materials hosts will find helpful for their assignment, and the equipment is not to be traded away or sold, Prince explains. The rest, Cathaway adds, will be provided once travel is complete. And then it's time to get underway. Today that means piling into a sleek, arrow shaped ship with plenty of space to carry personnel and equipment. There are a number of bikes lashed in the cargo area, places for hosts to stow their things, and enough seating at each side of the carrier's interior for hosts to be comfortable. It's a short trip, Cathaway assures and then makes her way with Prince to the cockpit. Today, they're coming with.

Initial checks. Engines go. The landing circular landing pad under the ship turns, lowering down into the flight deck floor as it goes. The ship comes with it, descending into the cool dark depths of the Station. There's a shudder as it locks into the launch tube, as the channel overhead is sealed; there is no countdown, just a pulsing moment of anticipation-- and then rocketing, teeth rattling momentum and a bright, hot flash of joy as the ship is projected from the Station - as it sears through time and space and a hundred versions of the same universe until it comes to rest here: smacked out into real space hung above a murky brown planet, clearly visible through the massive viewscreen at the front of the ship.

It's a good thing there's not much to look at; Cathaway doesn't waste time before deftly setting a course, slicing down through upper atmosphere with hardly a shudder from the knife point shaped ship. The planet comes up rapidly and a hum passes through the carrier as it lowers - cresting down through dark clouds to be battered by rainfall and the cross cutting of wind. But it flies steady, sure, and in time they streak at ground level across muddy flatlands and massive stone slabs - skim across inert bodies of water in the slow process of expanding from the constant sluggish rainfall.

The ship eventually comes to rest in the middle of what must be a massive valley; it sets down with hardly a shiver, then something clangs loud and the ramp at the rear descends. Cathaway unhooks her harness and rises from the pilot's seat.

"Here we are. Be well and do well; try not to kill anyone." Yourselves included, being the unspoken addendum. "Make sure to return here at the specified time. We can't extend our time table to account for stragglers."

There is a pause before Prince adds, with an edge of silent reluctance, “If you find yourselves in a situation you cannot handle, call and we will come.”

And then you're free to go wherever you like. Welcome to Avera 9.


(click to zoom; blue is water; yellow is lowlands/flood plains/etc; green is higher, drier terrain; brown is for ridges/high ground)

---

((OOC Notes: You'll notice that this log only covers the first few days of the mission; this is to allow for player character decision making to effect the back half of the mission. That said, feel free to make your own logs and posts on the IC community as you see fit - just be aware that dating past day :160 may get a little wonky depending on how events proceed!

If you have any mission specific questions, direct them to the OOC post here. For exploration and salvage discovery, we've decided to give players a largely free rein for what items can be found. However, if you want specific mod-generated items for your characters to stumble across during their salvaging, feel free to use THIS thread to request that!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[adamance]

arrival confusion | first come first serve

[Lexa is uncomfortable. From the moment she awakens with the feeling that it's time for them to come to getting onto the ship and the ride over, every part of her radiates with discomfort. In her time in the Station since she's arrived, she's been very careful not to interact with any of the advanced technology. She's avoided guns, she's followed her instincts, and she's kept her head down. Seeking further understanding of everything around her would be wise, but the mixture of emotions combined with her discomfort had kept her from it.

That remains here, only now she knows it weakens her. Everything they're offered to set out with when they step off the ship is a loss to her outside of the matter of the clothing. She doesn't know what a flashlight is (though she has seen overhead lights by this time, of course she has), the taser, the mask (though she follows the others' leads and pulls it on, even if it reminds her uncomfortably of some of the Mountain Men's attire), and the money. Her people don't use currency. They only use trade, and they work in tandem to supply goods to one another. If someone needs meat smoked, then they offer half of the animal up in return for the service.

After sorting through the unfamiliar items, she stands up and tries to look proud, but she knows that her unease is radiating off of her. That's one of the many problems with this bond she has with these people. She can't hide the emotions that she can readily keep off her face thanks to years of training.

Swallowing hard, she decides to declare a single fact:] I'll need some assistance upon setting out. A partner to begin with. My people don't have any of these supplies.

[Above all else, she hopes her meaning is clear.]

green! green!

[There is a mission at hand. Salvaging supplies is actually something her people are very good at after about a hundred years. Though she has her doubts about what she might find in the wooded, wet area, she can't resist its temptations. If her people were to set up a base (even an eventually abandoned one), she would do it in the woods, to be secure, and to be comfortable. Surely, her people can't be the only ones like that.

Still, she admits to herself that her steps out onto the wet ground are ones she takes because she's glad to be free of the Station. Entering an area that feels familiar helps calm her, giving her an illusion of comfort that she hasn't had since she had been brought out of Polis, forced to abandon her people once and for all. The Station is sterile and lifeless (even in the Garden, which seems artificial and out of place), though the feeling of life always throbs inside of it. It isn't the same, not like this world, where everything is ... better.

As much as she appreciates the sense of freedom, Lexa's steps are careful and aware. She assumes there are threats here the same as there will be anywhere else. She does her best to be as silent in her movement through the trees as possible, and she's aware if, and when, someone might follow her, pausing and turning. Unlike her time in the garden in the Station, she doesn't extend a weapon immediately, only looking at who approaches with a sharp expression.]

Have you come to help?

green

[erbier]

[ Ilde glances at her, her mouth parting for a moment and then reconsidering. Ilde's thoughts are a careful weaving of restraint, but a brief flare of self-directed irritation sparks and then is gone. ]

I came to enjoy the trees.

[ She prefers being candid to making excuses. ]

[regalled]

[It was a step forward, at least.

Not the step he would have preferred most, where she would have taken the time set aside for training to better herself in the ways she would need, but it was a step. Askinf for help rather than practically demanding it would, again, be preferred, but it is nevertheless a step forward.

Cathaway had said it and had been right. She would adapt or she would bash herself upon the rocks until her hull fell to pieces. There was no alternative.

He doesn't bother to disguise his steps as he moves forward to stand beside her. If she would not accept assistance from him she would find herself at a disadvantage. Whether she was anxious enough to accept that remained to he seen.]

Many do not.

[He holds out his hand then, clearly expectant. Fork it over kid.]

[circumspector]

I. catch a riiiiide

[ She files off with all the others, stepping into the light of a planet -- and that's something in and of itself, so there's a moment, her eyes up, the ground crunching under the boots she still wasn't used to wearing, she's not borrowing a memory of the sun on someone else's skin, it's in her eyes now. A natural reaction when she puts her hand up to block it out, watching it filter between her fingers as she separates them to stripe it against her skin.

This is real, this is happening, that's the sun and the sky and she's actually looking at it, not through cameras, not through her brood's mind. A suck in of breath that tastes like damp and earth against the back of her tongue, not just filtered conditioning.

It doesn't matter if this turns out to be awful -- for that one second, looking up at the clouds of all simplistic things, she grins, big and wide, bubbling up in laughter before she turns back, sharp dig on her heels to extend her legs. Pumping, moving blood like it's an interesting new hobby, shifting in the attempt to juggle the weight of her carried kit slung over her shoulder, towards where people have been gearing up and getting ready to move out.

Comes to the bikes, and where they're accounted for, she comes up to someone who seems to look like they know where they're going -- ] Are you going to Minte Spaceport, or Tari Town? Can I catch a lift with you?

[ Because she thinks from what she read in the overview, that's where she might be most useful. Or at least where they had technology she could access. ]

II. MINTE SPACEPORT

[ It doesn't take her very long once she's there to find what she's looking for. Follows people to see where they were going, where they traded, and what their center was for it. A little more poking has her turning the corner to the sort of set up she was hoping they would have, a series of terminals that seemed to be where most business was done.

There's a smile like she's seeing an old friend when she finds them, a hub of software and information. In amidst billboards that flash with gritty signs, advertising cheaps girls, cheaper booze and an all night bar one second, and another advert for the best parts this side of the planet in the next. As she steps up to a free terminally ( and mercifully, not so many people waiting to use them ), she's starting to glow even as she's stepping forward. Hidden most of it under the clothes but the markings exposed on her fingers turn white and her eyes are blue, blue, blue. Bright and burning.

A sphere of light comes up between her fingers that she presses into the machines screen and her eyes snap shut. Executing Phaseshift. A second, one euphorically nauseating second, where she goes from wanting to having. So maybe, this isn't just for the mission, maybe this is utterly and completely selfish too.

It's the opening a floodgate, pouring, pouring, pouring words and numbers and symbols, as she tries to build something hastily between her and anyone else that might have the misfortune of being too close. Works only so far, because she's here yes -- feet flat on the dusty road, in a tucked in the corner of a street that smells like piss and vomit. Booze and blood. But her mind is wide open, and bleeding into the wires, and all she tastes when she breathes in is the raw crackle of electricity, it hums with brightly lit life. Knows that there isn't a polite way to find what she wants, rather, she doesn't ease into it, she throws herself headfirst straight in the raw scream of code and their subsequent security systems. A fight that lasts microseconds before she's torn down any barrier and it pours directly into her. Like this, it's not one or two pieces of information at a time, she hears it all in a roar of live wires and recorded voices. Chattering, pleading, laughing, sparkling with light, tumbling over and over until she gets it all under her control. Out and out by ripple waves in a veritable infinity where she knows it all, feels it all through every bit of her body, until she's stretched as far as she can, and directed whatever she can't quite hold to flow back towards her. Then she begins to yank apart the threads for the information she wants. All done in the time it takes her to let go of the breath she was holding, and it is unbelievably powerful, to hold the chaotic infinity of life deep within her mind, mold and twisted around her thoughts. She's not on the ground, she was never on the ground, her body is, but she's -- ( a living creature of six wings and covered with eyes all around ) everywhere.

Done it all in the time it takes her to let go of her breath, but it's habit, she can manage it. Just if the last few days have been an education, it's how much other people weren't in the habit of managing their mind's movements. But they'll forgive her for this, she hopes, whatever the headache it might be. Needs to talk with them, to send out the information she's pulling down. Nothing for it, and who knows how Cathaway and Prince make their messages so clean. Tries to do it quick instead, garbled mess but the impression for anyone that stops to listen to it is: come here, I have something for you. and the location of the booth she's claimed as her own. Though it's more feeling and images, than anything definite. ]

[ And for anyone that does come find her, she's got that one hand still on the screen, little bits of light trickling back and forth from her fingers and into her skin, into those pulsing white lines. Beckons with her free hand, as subtle as can be, she's doing her best not to meet anyone's eyes. Not like this, anyway. It draws too much attention she's trying to avoid. Granted, she remembers Ares reaction to this already. So it's old lines, beaten to death at this point long before Jack ever forced her to say them: ] Don't worry, I won't hurt you. [ Waits to let them decide, before she continues. ] Please pass me your datapad, this won't take a second, promise.

[ ooc: the information she is giving is this, she will be giving this to anyone who stops by. I'd love to thread, but it is a-okay to handwave this information if that would be easier for you. Also, I am happy for these threads to go anywhere weird you feel like outside of this! ]

III. SNOOPING ( CLOSED TO STEVE & NATE )

[ It bothers her when she starts running the numbers through her calculations the fifth time. They're selling everything off the Constant, but for what? Most people and taking what they can and hauling out as quickly as possible. What on earth could they be getting that isn't listed, that's worth more than everything they're selling off? It's a pretty sizable amount.

It's curiosity, and it might kill cats, but she's not a cat, and it might be useful, whatever it is. ( This is not because she likes to know everything she can, and that she can't find it out is... irritating, this is suspicious. )

So she gets closer, trying to catch sight of what it is. When she can't, and there doesn't seem to be a way externally to jump across mentally to the ship's onboard systems to read their inventory from a more remote ( safe ) location, she gets up the information she'd pulled down onto her datapad and begins formulating a plan. She doesn't want to steal anything, she doesn't want to get into a fight, she knows the mission parameters. She just wants to find out. The third time through, she thinks she's got a plan, but the guards -- the crew is out, they seem to go out most mornings, and they leave only a few people behind.

It's when she's going over it a third time trying to work out how to get rid of them, that she catches sight of Steve, and quickly waves him over where she's doing her best to not be too suspicious, sitting by some shipping crates. Datapad in lap and her feet swinging free from the ground ( always too short ). ] Hey, c'mere.

IV. WILDCARD

[ Got another idea, want to drag Angel to be a glow stick for crawling through caves,wanna encourage her to steal some credits? feel free to throw it at me, combine stuff, etc, etc. If unsure just contact me here or @themajesty on plurk!! ]

[decommission]

[ Tiny flecks of water from his jacket, boots caked in mud again even though he's been careful to clean and dry them every night. A couple of days into the cold, wet weather and he's almost missing the claustrophobic, windowless Station. Just a little bit. It rains like this back home, sometimes, but more often there's a stretch of humidity just before the sky turns, a shift in the air that signals an oncoming storm. Pouring rain and lightning, it burns itself out quickly, leaves behind the smell of wet pavement in the summer.

He misses the sun.

A glance over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question at Angel when she calls him over. He keeps his pace, hands shoved into his pockets for warmth. ]

Need something? [ Stops in front of her, the same question in his eyes. ]

II.

[erbier]

[ Ilde comes to her, recognizes the sound of her 'voice' underneath the crackle and hiss of electricity and wonders how the girl could possibly accomplish such a feat, such a whirlwind. She doesn't understand technology well enough to truly grasp it, to her it all reeks of magic, and in the end the concept is not wrong enough to matter. Angel glows, like her namesake, like the way Cathaway's mind glowed when viewed without eyes.

It overwhelms Ilde's superstitions, enchants her thoughts like a spell, and she hands over the little wallet-sized square that is the datapad without a word. ]

ii

[adamance]

[The truth is this: Lexa only comes because she recognizes the owner of the voice. A hint of bewilderment crosses both her features and the link between them as she approaches. Knowing full well what's located in the back of her neck (though she doesn't know it for the technology that it is), she finds herself unable to judge, assuming that this is some spiritual maneuver with the technology. But it's still strange. Confusing. None of Skaikru is able to manage such a thing.

Still, bewilderment not completely passed—though it's certainly left her features—she draws out her datapad and hands it over.] I hoped not to rely upon this. [In truth, so much of the information that she's accumulated thus far has told her that she likely won't be able to grasp what she gains. Lexa is smart, sharp, and a quick learner, but this is outside her field of expertise.]

Will you explain what you're doing? [She can't learn if she doesn't ask.]

[snippycup]

[Angel's clumsy outreach pulls Ahsoka out of a half-hearted conversation with a local. In truth, nothing she had been doing was any kind of productive, not with so many other things on her mind. So, when Angel's insistent nudging keeps her from focusing further, she politely excuses herself and turns to follow the meager lead she's been given.

She hadn't been far to start with. She travels with her hood up, as had become custom even back in her own galaxy. Even if the population wasn't entirely human, it left less questions to be answered. Or maybe it was simply because her desire to socialize was at the lowest it had been in recent memory.

It takes a few long minutes for Ahsoka to get to Angel, but by the time she manages it, she's successfully stowed away her concern and other ill feelings that had no relation to what was going on in front of her. Luckily, the other girl's present state adds to her ability to consider other things -- like the fact that Angel is glowing quite brightly, and channeling something.

Her blue eyes widen, and her jaw drops slightly. There is no fear that comes from her -- nothing but wild curiosity. So much that she doesn't hear her ask for the datapad.]

--Angel?

[decommission]

i. MINTE SPACEPORT ( open to all! )

[ There's a lot to look at after days of being cooped up in the Station. He's as wide-eyed as a tourist once he exits the ship docks (and just as likely to end up with an ache in his neck), only catching himself once he's walking through the streets. Doesn't need someone pegging him for an easy mark five minutes after landing.

After sorting out his room, Steve can be found wandering through the markets. For a place that's about to get pelted by asteroids, there's still a lot of bustle to it. ]

Hey, watch your step! [ He calls out to whoever is passing by from the other direction - there's a mound of something green and mucky on the path and they're a step away from getting it all over their boots.

Later, he can be found at the bar in Minte's Parlor, shoved in a small corner with a tall glass (of water) and eyeing his datapad. He's read all the info at least twice already, but it gives him a good excuse to listen to folks talk.

He'll lift his gaze when someone else from the Nest passes by, tipping his head in greeting. If they look a bit lost, he might ask:]

You get your room settled yet?

ii. IRON OUTPOSTS ( closed to hux and kylo ren )

[ They came here to salvage, so it's about time he gets to it. Some places are crossed off his list so far, at least to start. He's not looking to pick a fight with any locals over ground, or to steal anything that's already been claimed.

The Iron Outposts are close, largely abandoned - and hey, he gets to ride one of those space bikes. That's where he is, looking over one of the vehicles when he calls over to the nearest Nest-mate in the vicinity. Hux. ]

I'm gonna take one of these to the Outposts, check out what's been left behind. [ He cocks his head at the bike. ] You wanna come along?

[ There's a space of a moment enough for the other man to answer, just as Steve's attention is automatically pulled over Hux's shoulder at someone else nearby. ] You should come too, could use the extra hands.

[ Though the connection between them isn't so sharp and raw as it had been before, it's no less strong. Both eyebrows raise at Kylo Ren. ]

iii. WILDCARD

( Gimme whatever! Also, feel free to assume that they've already exchanged names on the Station even if we haven't threaded yet. )

ii. lets noodle

[exhuxperation]

[ They came here to salvage and while the idea is tiresome and too reminiscent of Jakku, he's going to do the work nonetheless. It'll be a welcome relief, in a way, to focus on something that didn't have to deal with the non-stop buzzing in his head, the whispers of emotion outside of himself. The shared links are still deeply uncomfortable for him, though he knows if he's to be here for any length of time, he'll have to adjust. Right?

(He doesn't want to be here, even if he was promised power and a chance to live).

Steven finds him inspecting the speeder bikes as well, curiously noting that they resemble landspeeders. A sign that no matter how far removed one is from their own galaxy, he can find echoes of it. That's not entirely reassuring. ]

I suppose we'll end up there in any case– I'll come. [ May as well. It will be easier with more than one. And safer, though they're never really alone, are they? At that, his attention turns to whomever Steve is addressing now, though his expression goes dark when he sees who it is. Oh no. No no. Say no, Kylo Ren. ]

ilde option

[erbier]

[ Next to him on the ship, she breaks out into a cold sweat. She's never in her life moved faster than she could run, and the realization of how far away she is from solid ground hits her like a ton of bricks. The station, with its own spin and pull, had not disturbed her so much, although its artificial lights and artificial days and nights have toyed with her ability to sleep, to relax. She sleeps when the plants sleep, tucked away out of sight, lying in the dirt.

She has not been so afraid since she was a child, and constantly new terrors come to her in this new world she has entered. Fears she has not yet learned how to manage. She grips her seat with white knuckles. She closes her eyes for a moment, wondering through tight teeth, ]

Is this meant to be pleasant.

[ Cathaway, the former pilot, is assuredly enjoying herself in that third-party way of hers. ]

[vocalis]

I. The Trench

[ The empty ghost city running along The Trench caught Aoba's attention on the infobank immediately. Zooming in on the pixelated map of it, he could almost mistake it for the north quarter of the Old Resident District. Not that it's a great part of town, (off limits, actually) but it's a reminder of home nonetheless. The north quarter would've been worth exploring back home for salvageable goods if it were more accessible, (and had less criminals lurking inside, but Aoba's already accepted that would be no different here). Maybe this place would be good for finding things too.

It hadn't occurred to him it was likely already cleaned out of all valuables, but by the time Aoba is thinking about this he's already committed. Dedicated an entire day to making the trip. Warm weather gear on, hood up over his bright hair, flashlight out, boots and pants muddy up to the knees from having hiked all the way from the Minte Spaceport. It's a long trip, but he's no stranger to long commutes on foot. Still, he's not so used to the rain and he misses his warmer ugly jacket and matching boots left behind on the Station. He knew he'd need to travel light, like when he used to run errands for Haga-san.

It's been a few hours of ducking through dilapidated doorways and dodging roofs leaking with rainwater, and so far Aoba has... zilch to show for the effort. Just a couple of bent spoons and a near run-in with a bandit camping in one of the drier areas. He's currently found a dry area of his own in a crumbling stone house with a spindly tree attempting to grow out of the fireplace. There on the mantle, he can see something glinting where the rainwater is still coming through, but before he can investigate a noise almost makes him drop his flashlight. ]

Who's-?

[ No, better not to draw any attention to himself verbally in case it's more bandits. So instead he reaches out of the symbiote, gently prodding any mind that may be near enough to feel it. ]

( Who's there? )


III. Hot Spring Episode

[ It's been a long trip through The Trench. Even for as much as he walked every day back home, Aoba's exhausted. Too tired and achy to make it back to the Spaceport without taking at least some time to rest, take his medication, and get over this headache first. Using the datapad he maps a trail back to port that's a little longer, but not for the sake of making the trip harder on himself. The Hot Line isn't too much farther out of his way, and though the description of the area sounds treacherous, Aoba has a hunch it might be worth exploring the outskirts for one thing.

Hot springs. Well, what he finds isn't exactly like a spring, but there are pools of runoff from the more volatile waters. Unlike the boiling pools these steam pleasantly, invitingly, and even have tiny iridescent fish circling in them. It's not the cleanest or purest water, but the thought of a hot bath under the setting light is too tempting to pass up. Besides, there's no one else around to see him strip off his gear and lower himself in, right? He'll make it a quick dip.

Only five minutes in the water, and Aoba is fighting off sleep. A prod from his own head helps; the migraine he had earlier isn't going away or letting him fully relax. So he reluctantly pulls himself halfway out of the water to reach his pack and dig for the bottle of Station-synthesized pills somewhere inside it, grumbling- ]

Where did I put that medicine...?

[ Anyone passing through the area is gunna get an eyeful of Aobutts alright alright alright. ]


III. Crack the Code (closed to Angel + Adara brood)

[ He couldn't quite make it back to port before nightfall, but by again using the maps on the datapad Aoba finds Tari Town is closer anyway. A simple search of the establishments tells him of an inn with a reasonable price range, so rather than continue back in the dark, Aoba decides to set up in Tari for the night.

The inn room is small, lonely without Ren or his brood nearby, (are they nearby? Probably keeping busy too, though he can't really tell with one of them still being so shut out). It has a pod that's more comfortable than the one he woke up on in the Station, and a charging surface to keep his datapad running through the night. He needs it to keep running because he's currently trying to open a datacache found in a small figurine in The Trench. At first he thought it was just a bronze turtle, some useless house decoration, but then the shell popped off in his hands to reveal some kind of circuitboard with tiny memory sticks inside.

It takes some charging to get it's wireless function back up and working, and after a few attempts he manages to get it to connect to the pad. He even breaks past the encryption with minimal effort, but once the data starts opening up he sees... none of it is translating. It might as well be files upon files of moon runes to Aoba. Whatever language this is filling his screen, the translation program is refusing to work with it. He's tired and he's hit a wall, but he's also too curious to give up after all this. Rather than stare at walls of code he doesn't understand, he should ask for help... ugh, where's Noiz when he could actually be useful for once?

Who else could help? Definitely not Ares, that kid knows so little about tech he'd probably break the program just looking at it with his sour face. He hadn't asked Romy if she knew much about computers or code, or Michelle. Parker still wouldn't give him time of day, so that left- ]

( Angel? Can you hear me? )

[ He's never used the symbiote to call out just one member of his brood before. He's tired and still a bit achey in the head, and hopefully isn't accidentally invading someone else's headspace, (or all of them, or everyone but Angel). It hurts a bit more to stretch the connection so far, searching her out, but he's got to know- ]

( How familiar are you with code? I'm having some translation problems with a datacache I found inside a turtle. )

[ Yep, tired. But it's true, it was in a turtle. Maybe it's time to stop posting rather than keep working... nah. ]

[circumspector]

[ It startles her somewhat, she'd been -- wandering, just looking at the streets as they went by, seeing what else can be bought for salvage, and the hum of technology that on the ship is more like coming back, like a particular kind of homesickness she hadn't realised she'd had until she slipped back into the drift of code.

In a way, this is somewhat easier than it should be. There's still that startled little breath when people appear so suddenly in front of her without her willing them too. Granted she worries still, she doesn't want to drown the others of her brood and the nest in the loud chatter as she filters information coming in and out.

So it takes her a second, trying to will her mind to listen, make sense of, pull it apart from ( two rooms away, there was a husband and wife screaming in a fight, in another, an elderly woman counted her credits trying to work out if she had enough to get a shuttle off ) everything else she listening too.

Then she can't help but giggle. Though she tries to keep it out of her voice? mind? It's not like she'd ever truly said anything. ] ( I guess you could say that I am. I can definitely have a look at it for you. )

the trench

[erbier]

[ The familiarity of an abandoned and crumbling city had drawn her in as well. She was used to movement in such places, knew how to hide, knew where to look for the few supplies they might find. They would be on bodies. No one lived in such places, they roamed in and out, all their supplies on their person and the only reason they would be left behind would be if they were dead. She is not disgusted by the idea of looting a corpse, it isn't the first time. She has a small sackful of things from the one body she's found, hidden away in a shadowy place and left to rot. She pauses when she feels Aoba's voice cross her mind. She can't see him yet, he must be around the next corner... ]

( Have I crossed into your territory? )

[ It's her only real concern right now... ]

general hux || star wars: the force awakens

[exhuxperation]

i. minte spaceport

[ The thing about spaceports is that they all have a similar feeling to them.

All that really changed between them was the cleanliness factor. First Order ports, of course, are pristine and sparkling, but the same amount of silent chaos seemed to run in the background. Hustle and bustle, because keeping ships in port for too long meant things weren't getting done. There's a frantic energy here too, though he suspects it's partially the impending disaster in combination with the docked crews trying to get their fix in on land while they still had time. His officers are ordered and neat, but he turns a blind eye to what they end up in while on ground leave.

As long as they're efficient while on duty and don't cause a huge disturbance, he doesn't see the point in policing their luxuries too much. He doesn't have the time, after all.

It's this aura he wraps himself in, strangely at home even though the grates are a mess. Despite the mud and the worn edges. Hux has chosen to wear his given uniform, too nervous to wear his First Order colors– having the last thing to his name ruined would send him over the edge. Still, it's a hilarious juxtaposition, wearing something so casual while he keeps his clipped stride, back stiff and knees locking straight with every step. To say he stands out is an understatement.

Focused on taking everything in, he just narrowly misses colliding with someone. ]

My apologies. [ His tone is curt, the apology more reactive than anything meant. ]

ii. nelolian plains (edge)

[ Where the spaceport was familiar and comforting, this much open space is the exact opposite. He knows he has the datapad they've all been provided– it has a map of the surrounding areas. He also knows that virtually everyone in the nest is a mental yell away (how disturbing). So, there shouldn't be anything to be afraid of.

Ok, maybe he's not scared, but he is feeling rather anxious.

Going out onto the plain means there won't be too many places to hide, just in case. It's unfamiliar territory stacked twice; he's not from this planet, not from this galaxy, not very good at being out on the field to begin with. A number of years have passed since the last time he had to be out on the front lines, accompanying troopers or leading a group in a strategical hit. Generals don't typically leave their station from behind the lines. From high up on their station posts. Hux has never really objected to being under fire since it was something he's trained for, but this sudden drop into it is... well, it's nerve wracking.

There are some people nearby, their presence felt more than seen or heard. Perhaps it's time to ask some questions. ]

I don't suppose you're familiar with this sort of terrain?

iii. wildcard

[ got another prompt you want to throw my way? go for it! ]

[regalled]

[Minte spaceport was a sordid, filthy place, squalid even before it became half-deserted. It was not the kind of place he would happily frequent in better times.

But it has been longer than he cares to remember since the last time he was off the station for any period greater than it took to gather a new Host and bring them safely to the station. Longer still since he was on a mission, even one without purpose beyond allowing the new Hosts to accustomed themselves to this life. So despite the ill repute of the station Prince is in something of a good mood. Impossible to tell from his expression, but slightly visible in the lightness of his step.

It means he stands out more than usual, long hooded cape doing its job to keep the rain off and mark him as a stranger from a strange land. In the end it's not that he fails to see Hux so much it is he simply expects the young Host to move. an unfair expectation for one he has had so little to do with since his arrival.]

None are required. How do you find Avera?

[circumspector]

[ By contrast, she'd thrown herself into it -- maybe it's the thrill to feeling dirt grinding under her feet, the wet splash of rain on her cheeks from the steady drizzle, or the crackling spark of technology that means she hasn't stopped humming. But it's different than just being in control core. Then she had been a sleeping creature at the bottom of a great lake, letting it all pour over her. This, this she moves through it, striding through it, feels it pull around her like another breeze over her body. Rolls it through each step, a mind that branches out comfortably.

Which she's still bad at her body so to speak, at the grounded feeling that comes from needing to walk at all, so she doesn't so much register that he's in front of her, as the camera far up to left, tells her that he's on his path, and that it's one that runs into hers.

Her hands up come reflexively, stepping out of his way before she tumbles straight into him. There's a placating comfortable smile, polite, always, always polite. ] No worries, General. I don't think I was paying much attention either.

ii

[mercenares]

[It's likely easier to feel Ares there than see him because he's opted for roughing it-- the spaceport is too alien, too strange, and outside the Station that level of unfamiliarity is just too much for him to sleep comfortably. After being there, he hadn't bothered looking for anywhere else; besides, this is easier when he doesn't have to go back and forth to a room.

On the other hand, holy shit does he need a bath or five.]

Yeah, I've seen places like it! Why?

[His head tilts as he glances up at Hux from where he's sitting on the ground, hair falling further into his face.]

Didn't get lost, did you?

[erbier]

( Closed for Prince. )

[ It's a scene that has played out before. She has watched it from a distance, she has experienced it up close, although not since she was young... not since Dreus took her to the palace. Scavenging is a common and easy practice, pilfering the abandoned and crumbling cities for any semblance of usefulness. As time wore on there was less and less without traveling to new places, and with that always came the risk of meeting unsavory folk, groups who embraced the anarchy of the Godking's world and showed the ugliness he hoped to one day erase in a cleansing fire. They would pretend to trade, but their true goal was to take, was the sadism of putting down others and seeing fear in their eyes.

The traders are not treating her well. One of them juggles a knife like a toy, a clear threat that irritates her. She snaps back at them when they say something condescending to her, tells them where they stick their poor attitudes.

She overreacts, in theory. They wouldn't have hurt her, they just didn't want to lose face being told off by a girl barely twenty years old. But she doesn't treat such things as a game. The knife she pulls in kind was scavenged off a dead man's body in the Trench, and she shoves it up under the nearest man's jaw. She severs too many important things in the strike. She does not play and he falls to the ground bleeding too profusely to be saved. The others scatter in shock, but she's sure they'll be back, so she shoulders her bag and leaves the area quickly, eyes down. Someone else can do her trading until it is time to go, she supposes, and thinks nothing more about it.

This is life, another day, another death. ]

[regalled]

[He has no particular difficulty in locating her. Although he lacked the breadth and subtlety of Cathaway's connection to the Nest, he had been a part of it long enough and took the responsibility of his charge seriously enough that the young Hosts remained known to him, and would across the furthest stretches of the planet. Not in the way they were to her, as open books, as emotion and sense, but as presences, each unique and identifiable. Although he has not barely seen this girl her mind is still simple to differentiate from the rest, and it takes him only as long as it takes his legs to walk to find her.

Distance, then, is what had decided which of them, he or Cathaway, would see to her. He cannot be certain, as he comes across her, which he would prefer. His senses are sharp, and as soon as he finds her they focus effortlessly on her, even as he does nothing to slow his step in his approach.

Blood is a scent you rarely forgot. He turns his head for the barest second, listening for, perhaps, the distant sound of screams or warning sounds. And then he turns his attention back to the girl around whom the are tastes of copper but who shows no signs of injury herself.]

You. Come with me.

[His tone is hard but his voice is level. Suspicions currently unproven enough to temper him for the time being.]

CLOSED

[narcissithstic]

[He knows it a split second before it happens, the shift in demeanor that precedes violence. It has little to do with the Force— his young life was lived at the side of his father, after all, and anyone that knows Han Solo knows exactly how sour a deal in progress can go. Habitually, in fact - particularly when the bottom line is an unflinching, entirely-steeled 'no'.

But it's the lunge for Steve (a man so slight in stature he makes Hux look resilient in comparison) that sets off Ren's temper like nothing else, beyond the instant, hateful sensation of shared pain that bores down into his nerves. Within seconds he's drawn his saber, and within seconds blood is shed. One dead, two wounded, and the reinforcements close in just as Karlon ducks away for a hasty retreat.

Ren wastes no time: unburdened by the armored robes he'd been forced to leave behind in the Nest, he's quick on his feet. Long legs, longer strides, lip curled in contempt over bared teeth, leaving behind the pair he'd been swift to defend in the first place.]

You can't run forever, coward!

[decommission]

[ This wasn't how this meeting was supposed to go.

Steve's body stiffens first at Ren's cold refusal to the crap deal, then sharply again when one of the bodyguards goes for his legs. Both Steve and his attacker seem perplexed by his fortitude, both legs still standing straight and steady, an uncomfortable rippling against his skin, a baseball bat cracking a hit. There's no time to wonder about it. What seems to be odds stacked against their favor suddenly shifts, the smell of seared flesh and howling moans assaulting his senses. He swallows back the urge to retch and slams shoulder-first into the alien's gut, knocking the air out of both of them.

The connection between him and Ren stretches like a rubber band, painful. There's enough air in his lungs again to shout. ]

STOP!

[CLOSED] Kylo Ren catchall

[narcissithstic]

I: HUX + REN [DAY 160]

[Rain spatters the span of Ren's heavy brow, blurring his vision and threatening to chill his skin the more seconds are spent watching Hux wrestle with the bike's underbelly. Steve has already sped on ahead to locate potential buyers for what they've found and a storm brews overhead, clouds fat and sunk low enough to be a grim concern. If the bike is not fixed soon, they'll be mired.]

You've been adjusting that seal for an hour. Fix it or give it to me.

[However clever the General might be, he's clearly floundering; Ren was raised under the shadow of the Falcon, while he harbors no love of the work, he is capable. Likely moreso than his companion, already dismissed from the side of the Nest's chosen vanguard.

II: AHSOKA + REN [DAY 161]

[He despises this. More than the planet or its wretched people, there is something so near to insulting in being forced to carve shelter from the land itself— a scavenger, like the wretched girl that dared to defy him. To maim him. The memories stolen from her in a sadistic bid at control at least serve him well: as she had, he turns his transport into shelter from the unforgiving wilds, cord wound across the body of the bike where it's sat along the side of a rocky outcropping supporting a thick canvas sheet. It tempers the wind, warms the night and, if nothing else, grants an odd feeling of independence. Not serenity— he lacks the temperament for it— but there's satisfaction to be found in the absence of those that grate his every raw nerve as a habit.

Light slips from the sky and he sparks kindling to light with a few drops of borrowed fuel and an ignition key, coaxing the flame with his breath until it burns warm at the near entrance of his tent. Tomorrow he'll think of a means to reestablish a foothold in either city.

Tomorrow this senseless facade ends.]

[snippycup]

[Unlike Ren, the present conditions do not bother her. The land and her people had always been close, even after she had been taken from her home world to be raised in the temple on Coruscant. Her hood is high, she's cut holes in the hood to accommodate the tips of her montrals so it doesn't fly off. The lack of her lightsabers had proven to make things challenging in terms of trying to build cover. Her shelter was simply whatever she was able to find at the time -- not a lifestyle she was completely unaccustomed to.

Still, the makeshift bag she carries on her back has only meager supplies. Enough to keep her going as she traveled and anything that looked interesting or useful enough to bring back. Scavenging kept her focus -- kept her mind off the fact that Anakin still had not woken up to join them.

The cloud her mind hits is like a wall all of its own, and she feels Ren before she sees the fire near his tent. It causes her only to pause briefly on the branch she'd chosen to swing to. Her landing is not entirely graceful, thanks to how much moisture the ground had absorbed. She squelches audibly and considers changing direction for a long moment -- but night is falling. She has a better chance staying close to fire, even if she doesn't go inside of the tent.

And her distaste for him isn't going to keep her away from the fact that he is clearly angry inside that tent. He'll see nothing but her unmistakable shadow coming along and stopping at the side of the tent.]

Aren't you a little far out this late?

[As far as she is concerned, she had made her point during their last encounter -- and Prince had soured her victory enough to allow her to talk to Kylo Ren as if nothing had transpired between them.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Somewhere in the back of his mind, he figured something like this would happen.

This being a speeder broken down, engine spluttering oddly. When it'd first started, there was a high pitched keening sound that didn't sit quite right even as the machinery kept turning over correctly. It got progressively worse to the point that it was halting every half mile and then proceeding to deteriorate every few meters. Steve had been sent on ahead on the other speeder, leaving him stuck with Kylo Ren as his company. Hux couldn't tell which would be a worse combination—Steve and Ren together or Ren on his own. Or this here, where he can tell the other man's mood is souring quickly.

At the current moment, Ren's irritation is palpable, a distraction from the work at hand. The oncoming storm overhead seems to mirror the sentiment. With his sleeve folded up, he's got his arm nearly elbow deep in parts, the slim opening between the throttle and breakers giving him just enough room to work in. If one really wanted to, they could draw a comparison to this engine and the ones outfitted on the snow bikes the Empire used infrequently. A familiarity in some ways. ]

It's delicate wiring under it, Ren, I'm not going to just cap it on and call it done. [ That might get them a totaled engine, which would be additional fantasticness to deal with. ]