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[MISSION LOG] GET IN THE CAR
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Avera 9
WHEN: Day :156 - 160
SUMMARY: Welcome to thejungle 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!))
WHERE: Avera 9
WHEN: Day :156 - 160
SUMMARY: Welcome to the
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!))
no subject
You--what?
[But she quickly realizes he isn't laughing. The Force is too clouded for her to be able to tell if he is lying or not but -- he must be.]
That's--the Jedi are forbidden from--
[He's still not laughing. Smiling. There's no doubt, there's nothing indicating that he is telling anything but the truth, and Ahsoka's sense of the world starts to bleed out of her again, just as it had when Hux had tried to tell her of the future of the Jedi Order.
Grandson. Not the first generation, but the second. She would have been well on in her years to see Kylo Ren as old as he is now.
She goes quiet, bewildered by the information and speechless for the implication that was carried with it. Anakin has a grandson. Anakin has a grandson who has fallen to the Dark Side. How is she even supposed to respond to that.]
--right.
[There's nothing else to be said. But if anyone tries to stop her from marching to Anakin's nesting bed when they get back to the station and dumping him out of it in order to receive an explanation, she might knock them out.]
no subject
He imagines she can't, either.]
He doesn't know.
[His future, his children, his fate— all of it beyond his knowledge and not for any small amount of effort on Ren's part. In spite of the discomfort that rises between them in that too-small space, there is an odd sense of relief in no longer restraining his own mind. At least for the moment.]
I kept it from him.
no subject
You should probably keep it that way.
[It comes out before she has a chance to think about it. It didn't exactly take a scientist to figure out that something had been off about Anakin ever since he had arrived on the Station. He was different...hurt deeply by something she has no concept of. The light in his eyes was dim, his heart was colder than she remembered.
So worried she was about the dark side's presence, that considering the fact that his own blood could allow it closer to him causes the snap reaction. In the moment, she forgets that Kylo Ren is just another man across from her, and not some all consuming force of evil.
Just as she might be a window, his feelings of rejection are hardly hidden from her. She thinks back to Ventress, back to how the Jedi had left her to the Republic's axe. Many things divided their beliefs, but they were all bound by one thread.
And its that thread that allows guilt for her snap reply to seep into her bones, and for her tone to warp into something almost apologetic.]
--the War...its done a lot of damage.
no subject
[A confession he doesn't make lightly: features smoothed by degrees at how grounded he feels in the moment without the necessary weight of pretense. If they are as close as it seems— as he senses— she would understand. Strange, to think a padawan capable of so much when even Luke Skywalker dwelled in his own short-sightedness.] We are of the same brood - I feel his thoughts, just as he knows mine.
Thus far it's taken great effort to obscure the full depth of our connection, and the symbiotic link is unfamiliar to me. [A pause, and then:] In time, I might falter.
no subject
[Even Ahsoka realizes when she has nothing to offer to the conversation. Her family was the Jedi Order -- she would never have to consider the ramifications of children or grandchildren. In truth, she is still reeling from the idea herself, the concept of Anakin having a legacy in children and future generations. Even if Kylo Ren comes from the position of the dark side (and thus everything he says must be taken with a grain of salt), she cannot sense any lies between their various bonds.
Her sympathy is tempered by several factors, chief of them being the fact that Anakin and a dark sider are being forced to share mindspace. With Anakin so clearly unstable, her defensiveness is hardly unwarrented.]
You have a lot to figure out if we are going to be made to coexist here.
[Which is just code for "You're lucky Anakin hasn't killed you already".]
no subject
[Just as he had suffered for choking her, they share the same pain, the same struggles and emotions-- violent or otherwise. If she fears what Anakin might do (Ren suspects she does not) it's nothing that would render him useless. Aside from, perhaps, continued exile between broodmates. Between blood.]
no subject
[If there was one thing she knew about her former Master, it was that he would stop it nothing to finish what he started once he had an idea in his mind. If that idea involved protecting someone close to him, triple the effort he put into it.
And it was Anakin's passion that she didn't always know how to handle. There were plenty of times where she could pull him out of it -- but it had never been so hard as when he discovered that Ren had injured her. She had only seen him so angry once before -- when they were forced to confront the Zygerrian Empire.
Seeing him that angry was like seeing an entirely different person.]
no subject
[On that, they agree. If his arrival here has taught him anything it's how...disappointing the truth can be. In his dreams he'd pictured the pinnacle of his every hope, every aspiration: someone who suffered as he did, who did not buckle but who rose, triumphant, cloaked in the darkness of the Force. Instead, Anakin Skywalker is human. As flawed as he is brilliant-- radiant, but blind.
It wounds.]
no subject
But the link makes the light in him more clear than she wants to acknowledge. She has no desire to understand him or his struggle, regardless of his relation to Anakin -- if he isn't lying about that (He's not -- she can feel it).
She has to try and lighten the mood -- or maybe make this right, somehow.]
If I ask you a personal question, will you promise not to give me a weird answer?
no subject
But yes.
no subject
The hair, too. Anakin's new haircut is far too similar to Ren's own. So much so that it weirds her out a little. But Ahsoka turns around more readily now to look at Ren, and her age becomes slightly more apparent in how she looks at him with curious eyes slowly narrowing.
And just as her age becomes apparent, so does her war-won wisdom -- too vast and perceptive for one so young.]
I sense...the weight you carry with you. But your hatred--
[There's no easy way to pose this question, and she frowns for it. She had never really had the opportunity to ask -- and frankly she had never wanted to know the answer before now. But Kylo Ren was not a natural Sith apprentice. There was Light in him, however it was shadowed by the Dark.
She could not say the same for Dooku or Ventress.]
I don't think you were stolen as a youngling. You weren't raised by the Sith--I've faced several. You don't fight like them. So why have you...chosen that path?
no subject
But there is another option that lay open to them now - something that would otherwise remain beyond their reach were it not for the Nest or its gifts.
Ren shifts where he sits, turning to face her fully. His expression is-- as much as it ever could be-- open. Near to pleading.] Give me your mind.
no subject
Ahsoka narrows her gaze further, something that might translate to suspicion. Surely he doesn't think her so foolish -- to bare her neck to the Dark side so freely.
But as she considers the open and pleading stare he gives her, she is forced to reconsider. No, its not meant to be trickery. He seeks validation or approval or understanding or -- something, or he would have simply dismissed her question. But why...what is the fixation he has on her? Every moment she thinks she might have Kylo Ren figured out, he does something like this -- something oddly sincere, something oddly human that tugs at her desire to understand the scope of the Force, and moreso the need to help those who reached out to her for it.
The Dark Side clouded everything, even here with their connection to it so weak.
There's a moment of guarded hesitation, filled by the action of lifting her legs to cross them where she's chosen to sit. Once balanced, she lifts her hand from her lap and offers it to him, turning her palm over for him to grasp.
Her curiosity is too great, and Anakin isn't there to stop her.]
no subject
His gloves are worn from the elements (his own, like the rest of his trappings, were left on the station itself) bearing scuffs and scrapes - a thin layer of dust from the work of establishing his own space - he sets his hand across her own, and latches onto the warmth without hesitation.
How simple a thing it is to hold something so fragile.
To know that he could shatter it in a single moment, to consider how wracking the grief of it might be to that single, brilliant point between them. To promise, like a predator with its great maw unfurled, no harm to the bird that perches on sharp teeth, trusting. His thoughts are a pool, deep and endless, but Ren takes care not to drown her in the memories that rise to the surface once her breathing is his own: at first, there's only light.
Joy in shifting toys without contact. Pride in his mother's smile, though dutifully she departs after minutes. After hours. Weeks. The Falcon runs cold, but there's so much warmth in Han Solo's rough hands where they fall heavy across his own, guiding him, whispering stories of countless, beaming worlds. The Falcon runs cold, and then it runs. Because the whispers permeating every memory are louder, now, and his shadow seems so long when he's alone. When Ahsoka's alone, the world a terror with no buffer, no shield. Claustrophobic. And they argue over what's to be done about it without touching her or going near. Like they're afraid of her. Afraid of themselves, even.
And when she's angry for it, when she's desperate, it's worse.
The darkness is so strong she might suffocate in its grasp: days colored black as night and fear is the only hand to be held. They send her away. They tell her the Jedi will help, that her Uncle will teach her to control it. Only his solutions barely scratch the surface; the other padawans don't suffer as she does. There's no one living at their backs, preaching hatred, sorrow, misery. Over and over again, and it spreads like a cancer, boils in her blood, the Force is so strong but the agony of it is maddening and it isn't until violence-- searing hot as a flame-- finds its way in that for a moment, the worst subsides.
The shadows shrink in supplication, warmer than the smile of her mother or the hands of her father. More beautiful than promised stories, and safer, so much safer than any locked door ever was.]
no subject
The memories of a child discovering their power makes her smile. A life she still remembers vividly, a life she has seen unfold hundreds of times before -- not only herself, but all younglings collectively. Proud parents, the arms of the people, she expects the Jedi to come any moment.
Her connection flickers with some confusion when her mother turns away, and ceases her constant presence. She is confused, she is hurt, but she thinks she understands. Duty before self, she would have made the same decision. Its a rationalization she can easily make as an adult, but their mind reminds her that she is not an adult, not even close. As a child longing for the comfort of family, of the people she was so bonded to even in distance, her distress (and Ren's) overrides reason. Calm comes from the touch of her father, and the engines of the Falcon run so vividly in Ren's memory that Ahsoka's grown kinship with starships finds easy comfort in their hissing. For a few easy moments, she can relax again. Her father's hands are strong, and his voice is like a lullaby among the stars.
But the hissing of the engines turns sinister when her father turns his back, it gains a voice, and it pings a once untouchable memory deep within Ahsoka's subconscious. She is not untouched by the Dark as she might believe. The whispering haunts, it slithers in like a bad dream, and it brushes against the back of her neck so simply that she very nearly recoils from Ren entirely.
(The bird's feathers ruffle uncomfortably. It flutters to a new perch, chirps soundlessly. Somewhere more physical, her grip on his hand tightens too powerfully for someone of her size.)
The Son raises his bat-like wings from her own shadow, his glowing yellow eyes pierce through her, and she turns wildly to confront him only to find there is nothing but the engines. A warning is whispered from her own voice, wise beyond many years, but it doesn't stay long enough to give sense to what she is seeing. There is silken laughter of amusement for her attempts to understand, and the sound turns to sludge, their blood runs cold with shared fear. Their heart pounds faster, she can feel their skin losing color from the stress of memories warring with one another.
There are other images the Son (No, not the Son, someone else) shows her, people he whispers about. Their lineage, presecendce for power and respect. A blood-born legacy, rage unmatched, the sound of a vacuum sealed respirator inhaling, and exhaling. A sleek black dome helmet that mirrors a reflection she doesn't recognize back at her. The helmet melts before her in a pit of fire, tied to memories she doesn't understand. Memories of an Empire, of a legion of white armor, and all of it crumbling downward at the feet of a man she doesn't quite recognize. In spite of that, she can feel anger well up within her.
Her father doesn't listen to her at first when she tries to ask about the visions -- Darth Vader is the name she gives him. Her frustration grows, the voice gets louder, she becomes more volatile. Slowly, her father begins to understand, and responds with disappointment and anger in return. But her anger is stronger than his, her sense of abandonment outweighs any attempts to control her with his guilt. When he fails, his anger becomes concern, and she feel a sense of righteousness flood through them. His concern comes too late, but the concern is there, and the righteousness bleeds back to fear.
(She wants it to go away. She wants their help that they won't give her. Its their fault that she's like this.)
Instinctively, she lashes out against it -- against her parents, against the hissing in the engines, and somewhere deep in her blood she is still the predator she was born to be. They fear her, and she understands that now -- remembers what Angel had said about collars and about the sirens, and the oppression they faced. Being given to the Jedi now feels wrong, feels as if she's being sent away because they want her to control the hissing she can't see. She is older now, but the pettiness is still there. She goes to spite them (because they don't give her any other option, any other choice). The hissing may frighten her, but it is her job to overcome it -- she expects other Padawans to struggle as she does.
But they do not. The Son's face shifts to something more twisted, his voice turns deep and booming, and it continuously moves like sand through sieve. The Son laughs loudly in her head, taunts her with the idea of a future she cannot change and cannot see, until she can't take it anymore, and when her eyes open they are yellow, she sees her own reflection and the vibrant orange color of her skin gone murky, her montrals so worn thin that they show the spidery blue veins that run across them and across her face. The blanket of security that Ren associates with the voice only lasts for a moment, for there is no peace to be found when Ahsoka turns to the face of the Dark Side, when she hears the decadence of the Son's doctrine. The predator in her blood bares its sharp teeth, the bird turns to a vicious batlike creature that screams and claws outwardly at the eyes of black beast it had been perching on.
And she lets go of Ren, recoils from him wildly and takes three long steps away. The nighttime air chills her sweat-soaked skin, and her pupils have nearly taken over curious bright blue eyes.
The dark. The bat. The Son. The hiss that was not the Son, the name is on her tongue despite not being given to her -- Snoke. Kylo Ren and his family. They all make her lungs burn, and she is forced to steady herself by gripping the wall of the shelter.]
no subject
And when she recoils, he turns away again to face the flames beside him, lifting his hands as if cold (he feels chilled in the aftermath) silent as a courtesy to her. One his own life refused to spare him in turn.
Because to endure alone in the face of great suffering is to become that suffering; no element in existence carries the capacity to do harm to itself. Because it was Snoke alone that reached for him, that believed him capable and did not fear the power he wielded, offering instead the greatness of a legacy ripped asunder.]
no subject
She can't find words, and she feels...wrong. When he had asked for her mind, there was nothing that could have prepared her for what she saw. What she heard.
She can feel the voice tugging from universes away, and some piece of her begins to understand. Ahsoka finds her voice, though it is quiet -- the way one might speak to a frightened child.]
You were a Jedi.
[She always knew.]
no subject
[So distant it might very well be the span of someone else's life, calling to him in the dark. Ben Solo, frail and foolish and unprepared for the universe and all its cruelty; too incapable of committing to his own survival. Han had reached for his son, citing a face he knew so well but the man behind it--
The embers die as soon as they spark. Ren reaches forward to press dust to charred wood - a careful precaution, ensuring no still-burning ash finds its way inside his shelter to catch flame.]
no subject
[Dooku had once been among the Jedi, and had then gone on to nearly destroy the balance of the galaxy with the Clone Wars. Kylo Ren was so volatile and unpredictable that he injured even himself with his own fury and rage. The Dark Side was everywhere, near and far, taking what was good and destroying it.
Ahsoka is even more certain now that Kylo Ren can still walk away from it. He can be an exception, as she had thought Ventress might be. He simply needs to choose.
Their minds are closer than she would like them to be, now. But she doesn't have the force of will to leave entirely. She had come this far -- if she had subjected herself to such torture for a reason, then she should see it through.
She recalls the voice and the name. Snoke, the one who had ushered him to the dark and promised a warm embrace. She feels him shiver in the absence of a fire, and with the Light in his heart so dim. It's not sympathy, but it's understanding -- the Jedi had left her to die. She understands betrayal.
But...]
Your master is gone.
[The same tone. Gentle, maybe a bit guilty. Her eyes settle on the charred like that he has made.]
It doesn't have to be this way.
no subject
He knew it from the moment he awoke to find no trace of Snoke's voice echoing in his ears, from the second Cathaway took him into the embrace of countless, endless minds, from the bond he shares with his brood— aside from its strained confines after the events that transpired the day before. There is much that could be different, but she hopes for something marvelous, something instant and devout, and he is...not young. Not filled to the brim with brightness, only outlined by the ghost of what he once possessed.
He will evolve, of that he is certain, but to what end—
Ren shifts, sharply canting his head towards where she stays near the rear of the enclosure. The quickness of someone that isn't wounded, isn't conflicted or burdened with the weight of twin, fractured lives - so normal they might not have even had their conversation in the first place.] You can stay if you want.
I won't be leaving until sunrise, and you'll be in less danger from local hostility if you travel in daylight.
no subject
And if she hopes to give him a chance to change, he won't be able to do it if she leaves him alone. That said, Anakin is most certainly going to ground the hell out of her when he wakes up.
If he wakes up a voice reminds her.]
Probably.
[She doesn't look at him when she says it. For all of her desire to help, every lesson she had ever been taught tells her that this is a bad idea. Its an even worse idea when she can still hear the Son's distant laughter on the wind.
But after a moment of awkward silence, she ducks back inside of the encampment. Something about her still doesn't feel right--travelling in her present state would not have been wise even if they weren't being stalked as hosts.]
no subject
[And in turn, he rises to his feet at last - night chill soaking into his cheeks the moment he's drawn away from the fire.] I'm going to gather more kindling to keep this burning through the night. Speak to no one that isn't from the Nest.
[The last thing he needs is for a pack of stray locals to try and take what little belongs to him now: the bike especially, rations just as much.
She's capable of holding her own; it's her beating, bleeding heart that has him mildly concerned.]
no subject
I'm not a child, Ren.
[Mentally, she plans out her evening. Kindling shouldn't take long to find. If Ren doesn't return within the hour, she will search for him to ensure he hasn't gotten into mischief.
Just because she might understand his journey a bit better doesn't mean she trusts him.]