sam "flying jackhammer" alexander ✧ nova (
headinjuries) wrote in
station722016-08-24 09:35 pm
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[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:
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.
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!
Rude tbh
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.]
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Well, that could've been worse. Maybe not by all that much, but it could've been worse. There's a lot less to explain to Ren than there would be to most people.
(And honestly, Sam would feel less guilty about puking on him than on most people, too.) ]
She's full of it.
[ Under his breath, through gritted teeth - it's quiet enough that nobody around them is likely to hear, but what's not there in volume is made up for by the mental link. There is definitely something fishy about the Public Safety Commissioner, even if he can't pin it down any more precisely than that. ]
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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.
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Ren's right, though, as much as Sam wants to be a smartass about that - he's not going to get anything useful out of this if he's busy losing his lunch on whoever's unlucky enough to be standing next to him. And if he's going through life from here on getting sick every time someone lies in his presence...well, that's going to be a pretty unpleasant existence.
So he swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and nods as he turns his attention back to the screen. Keep listening, don't lose it. Sure. He can do that.
Hopefully. ]
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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.
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He wants to, because shutting it out (if he even can) seems like the most likely way to get his stomach to stop doing somersaults, but it feels - less overwhelming, with Ren's touch at his shoulder and his mind. Like if he falls, he's not going to go over, because there's something (someone) to catch him.
Which doesn't mean he's going to lean back and let it happen.
He's not sure how to get more out of it, but he needs more. Knowing that something's up isn't good enough, not if he can't tell exactly what's off - if Seong-Hye Ngazi knows something, if she's connected or covering for someone, or if she's just paying lip service to an investigation her office doesn't care enough to put real effort into - they need to know what the lie is, not just that there is one.
Without knowing how to get more out of it, all Sam has to go on is Ren's advice. So he takes another breath, and he doesn't fight it. Tries to - open his mind? That's what you're supposed to do for all this weird zen psychic stuff, right? (Is he even doing that much right?) ]
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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.]
no subject
Ngazi's speech sounds like he's listening from underwater, despite the fact that he can pick out every word - it's weird and garbled and something is definitely off as she drones on about the bomber, until -
We are currently dedicating every available resource we have to discovering the identity of those who planted the bomb.
He sucks in a sharp breath, as that steady feeling of seasickness tightens into something so acute he can feel the bile at the back of his throat. That, that one is definitely a flat-out lie, not just the vague sense of bullshit that he's been getting from the rest. ]
( They're not. )
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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?
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Right. No big deal.
He closes his eyes, tries to look (hear?) a layer under that, find the why that goes with the what. But it's elusive; every time he thinks maybe he's close, he can't quite reach it, even if he's picking up more lies the more he hears -
Uncovering the source of these attacks is Public Security's number one priority.
It's not.
Rest assured that once we've apprehended those responsible, I will personally do my utmost to bring the full weight of the law down against them.
She won't.
There's got to more to find than that, but the more he strains to reach it, the more it feels like his head is swimming. ]
( They're...I...I think they know who did it, but I don't - )
[ His hand goes up to his mouth. Oh, God, he's like ninety-five percent sure he's going to puke if he keeps trying to do this. ]
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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.]
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Jesus.
It takes a moment for him to realize that while his head is no longer, in fact, spinning, it's just throbbing instead, and instead of feeling like he's going to throw up, he feels like someone just slammed his head into a wall.
Oh. That's...great? ]
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...And maybe also a towards couple of garbage bins to vomit into.]
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He doesn't throw up, mercifully, but for once, Sam doesn't even find the sass to comment on Ren's inability to ask or suggest or use the word "please" before manhandling him. He just lets himself get pulled towards the back of the crowd, and thinks about staying upright, which feels like enough of an accomplishment right now that he can be content with managing that much.
Getting away from the worst of the crowd helps, at least, even if he's pretty sure that headache isn't going to be going anywhere for a while. ]
( Is getting in people's heads supposed to be that... )
[ Weird? Uncomfortable? He's not quite sure what the word he wants is, but maybe that's one of the advantages of the mental link - the feeling comes across just fine even if he can't decide how to describe it. ]
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[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.
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[ It's not like he never realized that people lie all the time. But there are an awful lot of things he would've been perfectly content to not know they were lying about.
And the nausea, of course. The nausea really sucks too. ]