[hatch log] a lonely, distant place

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: Closed to Misato, Beth, Seviilia, Shepard & NPCs
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :045
SUMMARY: Somewhere far away from Concordia, new minds gain awareness.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

YOU WAKE UP and the person you were a moment ago is gone. --No. Not a moment. It's been a while, hasn't it? Something feels off - a combination of the strange and familiar right there in your own head. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye, but it’s impossible to tell exactly how long or how exactly you escaped the danger that had been breathing down your neck.

But here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber, a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been briefly calmed. There's something strangely peaceful about waking up here and that feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But when you disconnect the tube things get loud and a wave of emotion fills that peaceful 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. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party behind a closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet, and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you, as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone - and that those sounds in your head are louder. For two of you, the sense of familiarity runs so deep between you it might as well be cellular; one of you doesn’t share their connection, but you still feel like you know them somehow.

Welcome to Station 72. It’s quiet, still. Beyond the Nesting Deck in Life Support, there are a series of small personal rooms, all of them without doors. Some of them have personal belongings and a sense of life, but all of them are empty and it’s unclear how long they’ve sat that way. The only thing that’s obvious is that people are missing. For the time being, you’re alone with whatever (or whoever) has been left behind.

---

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for the new hosts. You’re welcome to make your own logs separate to this for your time on the Station, but please be aware that until the current mission ends that you’ll be unable to play with older hosts currently away on Concordia.


Additionally, you can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE. If you have any questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[miscreant]

[Seviilia blinks again in curiosity, and then forces herself to pass a scoff between them. This link of their's was more sensitive than her connection to the others she could remember.

Or perhaps the memories hadn't mattered enough to recall, when she was in service.]

I suppose I am out of practice.

[She's not going to apologize though, even with her accusing tone. The living were always far more delicate than the dead, but that wasn't why she had shielded the memory.

She decides to offer up less sensitive information in exchange.]

We were all returned to life to serve in a war against the living. No longer, as I am sure you have guessed.

[wille]

[ She wears suspicion on her face, uncanny against her relaxed stance and her loose white shirt. Like a little girl trying to stand up against someone twice her size yet refusing to acknowledge the difference in power. ]

Well, I'm relieved.

[ She sure doesn't sound like it. ]

I'm no one important. Just human. Honestly, I don't even know why we're in the same room.

[miscreant]

[It is clear that Seviilia seems to consider Misato beneath her notice in terms of threat level. She was only human, after all.]

Nor I. But it seems we are the only ones who have awoken.

[There are others -- one other in particular she thinks, but can't be sure.]

Perhaps you are more important than you thought. [She smirks in spite of herself.] Or perhaps something around here is hungry.

[wille]

[ She keeps silent for a moment, ears tuned to catch any other noise around them, any sign of another person. If she notices one, she keeps it to herself if only because she hasn't yet ascertained its existence. Her dear friend Ritsuko may be the scientist in their makeshift family of three, but Misato is the one who will demand empirical evidence for anything beyond the scope of her understanding. ]

You? [ In response to her quip about hunger, accompanied by a smirk of her own, though hers is less cheeky and more challenging. Bring it on. ] What do the undead eat?

[miscreant]

Come now.

[Seviilia isn't able to hold down the chuckle that bubbles out of her. It isn't an offensive observation -- a perfectly reasonable suggestion and assumption, given the rest of the undead ilk.

It is not beneath her. But she won't say that in polite company.]

Do all of the living have the same diet?

[wille]

[ Misato returns the chuckle with a wider smile, no joy to back it up aside from mild amusement. Sometimes that's enough. ]

Don't ask me. My diet gives the rest of humanity a bad name.

[ She keeps up the self-deprecating talk while absently rolling up her sleeves and tucking her shirt into her pants to show her waistline. To be a woman is to be a body, to be shaped a certain way in contrast to a man. This is how she knows to present herself. These pajamas are still too loose. ]

Anyway, we'll be working together from now on. We'll get along, hm?

[miscreant]

I should hope. If our rescuers are to be believed, we are fighting a war after all.

[Seviilia watches the way she adjusts herself with some curiosity. Her perception of what was expected of her is incredibly intriguing, and vaguely reminiscent of...something, maybe a memory.

By now, she's self-aware enough that her memories of her past prior to undeath are mostly lost to her, so she doesn't bother to pursue it.]

I am going to explore, I think. Perhaps later, we might share what else we've learned about this place.

[wille]

[ The clothes one chooses can either be barriers or bridges extended for others to more easily understand one's identity beyond what a naked body can reveal. She makes hers out as an open door when her inner self is nothing of the sort, exaggerates her womanly figure in over-the-top ways like an impostor and maybe that's not so far from the truth. She is better suited to war than all this fiddling and preening.

So contrived that even she has stopped noticing it. She offers Seviilia a cheerful smile and a little wave. ]

Alright, comrade. Catch you later!