![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[hatch log] into the garbage chute, flyboy(s)
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :43 - :44
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station; their arrival on Concordia is bumpier and smellier than usual.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
YOU WAKE UP and nothing will ever be the same again. A moment ago you were somewhere familiar - or familiar enough; now you're lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber lit by a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. You can't shake the sensation that you've been asleep for a long, long time.
The sluggishness of coming out of a deep, dreamless sleep persists all the way until you disconnect the tube running from the compartment's rear wall to the base of your neck. Then things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. Somewhere, someone else is feeding their thoughts and emotions into your mind. On the plus side, it's easy to follow that digging, familiar sensation to each other. After all, you're part of the same brood. You belong together.
Welcome to Station 72. Sirius and Kavinsky will have one day aboard the Station to acclimate to their new reality before they're whisked away to Concordia to join the rest of the young hosts. Get to know one another, ask some burning questions; in a day's time you'll be boarding a shuttle and going somewhere far, far away.
MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA, the host's espionage efforts are coming to a head. Preparations for infiltrating Public Security HQ are in full swing, a handful of hosts are planning to get in close with Representative Goram Saffit himself and there's currently a semi-functional android taking up one of the beds of the Bearings apartment block. Honestly, there's more than enough on everyone's plate without piling new hosts on top of it all. But that doesn't stop Nirad from disappearing when he's called to return to the Station. Presumably, this means everyone better get ready to debrief some new arrivals soon...
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!
If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :43 - :44
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station; their arrival on Concordia is bumpier and smellier than usual.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
YOU WAKE UP and nothing will ever be the same again. A moment ago you were somewhere familiar - or familiar enough; now you're lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber lit by a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. You can't shake the sensation that you've been asleep for a long, long time.
The sluggishness of coming out of a deep, dreamless sleep persists all the way until you disconnect the tube running from the compartment's rear wall to the base of your neck. Then things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. Somewhere, someone else is feeding their thoughts and emotions into your mind. On the plus side, it's easy to follow that digging, familiar sensation to each other. After all, you're part of the same brood. You belong together.
Welcome to Station 72. Sirius and Kavinsky will have one day aboard the Station to acclimate to their new reality before they're whisked away to Concordia to join the rest of the young hosts. Get to know one another, ask some burning questions; in a day's time you'll be boarding a shuttle and going somewhere far, far away.
MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA, the host's espionage efforts are coming to a head. Preparations for infiltrating Public Security HQ are in full swing, a handful of hosts are planning to get in close with Representative Goram Saffit himself and there's currently a semi-functional android taking up one of the beds of the Bearings apartment block. Honestly, there's more than enough on everyone's plate without piling new hosts on top of it all. But that doesn't stop Nirad from disappearing when he's called to return to the Station. Presumably, this means everyone better get ready to debrief some new arrivals soon...
ON THE STATION, there's a hum in the air - or the mind, rather. Follow the buzz and it'll lead to the Hangar Deck where a slick brick-shaped black transport is waiting. The source of the mental hum seems to be a young man: Nirad has come to collect you. He'll answer any questions; in fact, he seems happy to talk and length about absolutely anything. The boy's apparently the rambling type with little to no filter between his brain and his mouth. The combination of talking and mental hum can be disorienting. Once safely aboard the transport, the ship’s landing platform descends through the floor of the hangar. It snaps into place in the airlock. For a moment there’s a beat of perfect stillness, a shiver of anticipation. Then the transport is flung through the shaft and ejected into the wild black of space. There’s a nauseating lurch in your belly as it bursts through the delicate shell of the multiverse and snaps into real space above the blue and yellow marble of the planet Opia. Somewhere, thousands of miles below in the city of Concordia, the rest of your brood is waiting for you.
A BUMPY LANDING
The stealth ship slices down toward the planet until it fills the entire viewscreen. "All right, everyone out," Nirad announces, unbuckling his harness and jumping to his feet. Uh. What?
He leads to the port side of the transport ship where there's a small series of circular ports. They're roughly shoulder width. At a touch of a button, the ports open out to a series of escape pods. There's only enough room for one and it looks like you'll be lying on your back the whole trip. "Hop in. I'll launch you and then follow you down in my own. The pod's stealth tech should keep you invisible to the locals until someone comes to find it, but don't forget to scrap the pod when you're out of it. We can't risk someone finding it laying around." A pause. "Sorry, by the way. Usually we'd just land the ship but it's getting kind of obvious."
Hopefully you weren't expecting a nice, easy trip down to the planet because this is dark and joyless. The escape pod has no windows. It launches from the transport ship and rockets downward at the behest of the planet's gravity. Everything shakes. It's desperately cold, then violently hot and then-- something gives. The sound of something whistling. A jerk. The escape pod trembles as the anti-grav jets at the base deploy. It's a last attempt to soften the landing, then the pod drives down into a mountain of debris like a tent stake into muddy earth.
Congratulations, you've landed more or less safely in Concordia's only open air landfill.
SEARCH & RESCUE
It's three in the morning and maybe you're asleep in Bearings or maybe you're burning the midnight oil; either way, Carata is in your mind telling you to get up and get ready. "The new hosts have landed. Let's go pick them up, shall we? If I were were, I'd wear some clothes you don't really care for."
Time to go digging through the city's biggestdumpstertransfer facility!
The escape pods will have to be unearthed and opened from the outside to rescue their inhabitants. Once free, be sure to dismantle pods and scatter them through the piles of debris. Eventually all of this will be recycled, but we don't want anyone finding mysterious alien technology in one piece now do we?
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!
If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))
no subject
[ At his 'no', then in Petre's own response. ]
Does it look like I carry a wallet?
no subject
[It's a test to see how much the strongman can take before he picks a physical fight. Kavinsky keeps his tone light so as not to incite too much violence; he can take a punch from your average Joe, but his new friend's proven more formidable than that.]
What's the money look like here?
no subject
[ Because. Yeah, he is definitely a virgin, but his behavior would point to the contrary of being a virginal type. Whatever that means. ]
Why don't you figure it out. After you do your fucking job.
no subject
[It's a layercake question; fluffed layers between the richness of inches of frosting. Seems all sweet and innocuous, but the goal is to poison, to aggravate diabetes, to break three months of solid dieting. The nicest Kavinsky has been is a question that ripples with poorly stacked tiers. He doesn't wait for the V-card to swipe his answer. Even if he speaks, Kavinsky will continue through and over him.]
I was already gonna do that, man. Chill out. Take ten, I'll work on the pod.
no subject
Yeah, I am.
[ Which is a dare in itself: what're you gonna do about it? The guy's knee is practically broken and Petre's displayed only one of his many destructive tricks. He could take him on in a second, he's sure, but then he's never been careful enough to consider what other tricks people might have hidden up their sleeve.
Then he has to remind himself: no killing other hosts. That's generally frowned upon, however new and useless they might be. ]
Fine. I'll take you somewhere later.
no subject
Within the dreck, he recovers a pipe of sorts that hasn't been worsened by rust to the point of losing its heft. He takes a couple practice swings with it, pointedly keeping his balance over his good leg so as not to fall right over. Serviceable.
He approaches the pod, eyeing it like a man at his feet that's done something to harsh the vibe.
Finally, he acknowledges the other boy again.]
Are you gonna buy me dinner, too?
[Clang, clang. Pipe down on the already wrecked pod. It's not the most... effective way of getting the job done.]
no subject
Sure. But I get to pick what you eat.
[ Petre eats the weirdest shit in town. (But he won't make Kavinsky eat people, at least.) ]
no subject
[Well, maybe if he made a really good case for it, but right now K's lacking inspiration.
The word-- dirty, stupid, naughty, funny-- brings forward flickering thoughts of Gansey and Lynch. Daddy and mommy. The joke that stuck but Lynch never appreciated. He deserved it, since he couldn't unglue his mouth from his prince's ass long enough to see what better paths lay before him. Kavinsky can't say he regrets it. He has so little regret. Not calling him a fag, not dragging him into the woods. He might regret showing him how to get precisely what he wanted out of his dreams, because once Lynch knew his secrets, he was done with him, but at the same time it meant he carved some niche for himself.
He'd had a role, at last. If they couldn't be together, they could at least be bound in their separation with the chasm between them more of a vacuum, sucking up the whole living world into its belly.
Except, had he run away? Had he disappeared into the stars? He tilts his head back, staring upwards into the expanse of the night sky, unrecognizable from the one on Earth. New constellations.
A sudden longing is broadcasted, sputters, disappears. Forget Lynch. Forget that long sought after closeness. He has something more here.]
no subject
[ The face he makes is just. The face of a teenager who has obviously never heard it in the dirty-to-funny context, wondering if Kavinsky's just an idiot or if he should feel offended for being too dumb to get it. His confusion is washed off the shore when he feels the rise of a different current, something murky and intricate. Stringy algae that can't be picked apart.
It draws Petre right back in. Vulnerability interests him, it gives him an angle from which he can enter a person's head, twist inside it. A defense mechanism that lies on offense. ]
You're thinking of someone. Who is it?
no subject
It was never gonna be you and me.
He scoots the thought away, he buries it in the yard. No big deal, he tells himself. Nothing he couldn't work with. A surprise at the time, but it doesn't hurt, it doesn't matter, it's no longer a shock. Lynch loved Gansey's cock just so much. He didn't care that Kavinsky could--]
No one here.
[He masters himself. Sort of. He hefts the pipe up high over his head and arcs it down until it hits the pod with the sort of force that rockets through the rest of his body. Again. Sound and violence and he is so sober he wants to vomit. That can be fixed.
He rubs his nose against his arm which is trembling from the exertion he just put it through. If it quacks like a cokehead...]
Get out. I'll find you later.
no subject
[ Ever the salt on the wound. Petre sits back without worry, ready to move just in case Kavinsky decides to get creative with that pipe - he does look the type, after all. Just thinking back on the chaos that drew the demon to him in the first place... it wouldn't be a surprise in the least. But he likes it. He'd like to see more. Maybe even turn it against him. ]
Ask me nicely.
no subject
This grim little shit is no different.
He offers him his middle finger and a slight lift of his upper lip.]
Please go jerk off alone then wait for my call.
no subject
Nicer.
no subject
Now you're taking advantage of my good nature.
[A single please is about as nice as he gets, along with the offer of a free good time that the other boy seems to have already taken him up on.]
no subject
Yeah, so?
[ Eat me
badum tsh ]
no subject
[With that, he's going to turn back to the work at hand. Space pods don't go around tearing themselves up, though that's a one-sided cock fight Kavinsky would pay to see. He'll use pipes and other debris, whatever it takes to dismantle the damn thing completely. Unless he's picked at again, he falls into a brutal version of silence where the quiet whispers only snatches of old conversations.
He won't think about Ronan again. But the fixation on not thinking creates its own vortex.]
no subject
no subject
By the time the pod is separated into larger, but much easier to hide chunks, Kavinsky's sopping sweat and flapping the front of his shirt to create a breeze.]
no subject
Good job. It's like you deserve an award.