headinjuries: ends at a hospital (i hope this adventure)
sam "flying jackhammer" alexander ✧ nova ([personal profile] headinjuries) wrote in [community profile] station722016-08-24 09:35 pm

[open] we could strike the chord

CHARACTERS: Anyone who wanted to go to the vigil!
WHERE: Royal Street Gaming Parlor.
WHEN: DAY :031
SUMMARY: Concordia honors the dead. Hosts honor the dead, or maybe just do a little 007ing. As in snooping, not macking on hot ladies. We hope.
WARNINGS: TBA.

This is here for any and all of your mingling needs. Start your own top-levels, harass each other, etc etc.

Here is what we know is happening, courtesy of our fearless mods:

The hosts will be few in a throng of relatively peaceful people. Most people in attendance are younger (30s and below) and a proportionally large number of them have some kind of physical modification, though most are relatively low-profile mods. There's also a small contingent of androids in attendance.

A low platform has been erected in front of the Royal Street Gaming Parlor and the speakers for the vigil either stand on it or, as is the case with some more high profile appearances, they speak across an extranet connection via a holoscreen projected onto the Parlor itself. For the most part the speakers are small time: a few workers from a small local chapter of Mind Life (accompanied by a few skittish looking androids), a beta block councilwoman, a Mother and Sister from a nearby Church of Lirinity. Most of them have nothing more than words of support and condolence.

Somewhere close to the middle of the vigil, Seong-Hye Ngazi, the Public Security Commissioner for Concordia, speaks via extranet connection. She seems somber, competent, but also confident, and speaks about condolences for the losses, regret for the circumstances of the attack, and Public Security's dedication to finding the party responsible for the attack.

Otherwise: it's your fairly standard memorial gathering. Poems are read, some tears are shed, there are some people with signs and a small contingent of rabble rousers on the fringe of the gathering that quickly get chased off by Public Security, etc. You're welcome to create and interact with your own NPCs if you feel so inclined!
narcissithstic: (pressure's on)

Rude tbh

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-08-27 07:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[It can't be helped. Even with the advantage of foresight, within the thickest portion of the crowd, there's nowhere for Ren to go: Sam flees, Ren stays— and the two meet with a resounding thud.]

Watch it. [Is the helpful, brotherly advice that comes out, gritted through set teeth in response to his aching ribs (he presses a hand to his side to check - but the wound Rey had burned into his chest has long since healed enough not to reopen without a more direct impact). Satisfied, Ren's attention then drifts from himself to Sam, voice softening by little more than degrees as he registers discomfort hanging thick in the air between them.]

—What is it? What do you feel? [Aside from sick to your vertically challenged stomach, that is.]

narcissithstic: (weight is here)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-08-28 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
[The comment is less surprising than what Ren expected to hear: Sam is, after all, coming to grasp with his budding abilities, and what he senses is a truth that the Force easily verifies.

She is, in fact, full of it.

His hand settles heavily across the width of Sam's shoulder, attention lifting towards lofty screens. What comes next, comes through the symbiote itself, rather than out loud.
]

Your instincts serve you well. [As well as any Force-sensitive might at his age, when so much turns from luck to awareness. Awakening.] Breathe. Don't let what you feel rule you.

narcissithstic: (the secrets that we sold)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-08-30 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[He can; he will. The assurance that comes from having a brace at his shoulder, no matter how unlikely it may be. Tapping into Sam's struggle comes as thoughtlessly as breathing for Ren: what the symbiote fails to register in Sam's mind, the Force more than makes up for, and in that he is a buffer against the sickening strain where other Hosts would serve-- unwittingly-- as an echo chamber.

Strange, how satisfying it is to find that he enjoys it. Unpolluted by the light (after all, the Sith claim their apprentices just as well, foster them just as keenly if not moreso) there's a camaraderie to be unearthed in that narrow, tentative connection.
]

Good.

[There's the option there to assist by turning the Force towards the Public Safety Commission, but he knows, more than a shadow of a doubt, that the cost of honing in across the distance would leave Sam unattended if not severely taxed alongside him.

Better to let the boy test his fledgling powers; even if it fails, they've found a glimpse of something greater to be explored.
] Trust yourself. Don't fight it.

narcissithstic: (it's over)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-09-01 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[To his credit, he adapts with a surprising amount of grace. The hand at Sam's shoulder cinches tighter— not enough to hurt, but to keep him leveled in his efforts— a thrumming, breathing live wire.

In the heart of the crowd there's cover: minimal, but crudely effective. Ren stoops lower, braces his other hand at Sam's opposite shoulder and shuts his eyes to add a gradual amount of fuel to the flame - the Force at his fingertips, their minds acting in patient unison.

A strength to be guided by small, shaking hands.
]

narcissithstic: (open skies)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-09-03 07:53 am (UTC)(link)
[There. Progress. Proof that Sam is capable of utilizing what potential lies at his fingertips.]

Press it.

[Perhaps it's unwise, urging him forward when already the boy skirts the limits of his abilities— but then how else would he be expected to grow? To adapt where this world would rather see him falter? It was only through hateful perseverance that Kylo Ren was born and moderation is for babies.]

Why are they holding back?

narcissithstic: (the secrets that we sold)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-09-03 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[It takes nothing more than a cursory observation to realize that Sam is fast approaching critical failure. Anywhere else it might be ignored entirely, but even Ren can feel bile curling bitterly against the back of his tongue where their connection rests, and they have enough to pursue more substantial answers.

He withdraws completely, severing their immediate connection and unburdening Sam in the process.
]

Enough.

[Murmured low beneath his breath. The only sure sign aside from one meager pat across Sam's shoulder.]

narcissithstic: (to save a life?)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-09-05 08:21 am (UTC)(link)
[Resigned (and only moderately affected by their lessened bond), Ren takes the opportunity to take hold of Sam's wrist in passing, drawing him towards sparser clusters, wider spaces where the crowd thins out significantly near the back. He won't stay with him forever, but for now, at least, he cares enough to drag him out of the fire into relative safety.

...And maybe also a towards couple of garbage bins to vomit into.
]

narcissithstic: (the love we had— the love we had—)

[personal profile] narcissithstic 2016-09-07 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
Not always.

[Eyes set on the crowd rather than his companion, Ren's tone is set, but not wholly devoid of sympathy wow amazing. He stays purposefully close, arms folded tight across his chest. A ward against any straggling strangers.]

It depends on a number of different factors: your skill— your strength— their will, their devotion, distraction. [The Force, for a majority, could be fickle. Cruel, even. Apprentices driven to collapse from strain over something as simple as lifting a heavy stone might not have been common, but it did happen all the same.]

You will adapt.