station72 | ( mostly open log ) how much damage can hosts do in 2 hours

CHARACTERS: Aoba Seragaki and YOU
WHERE: Avera 9
WHEN: Day 164
SUMMARY: Scavenging a crash site, running out of meds, and how not to deal with the loss of a brood member
WARNINGS: Death, violence, brain damage, possibly more... (will edit)

Day 164 - let's talk about fight club (cw: death)

[ The last day of the mission. While other hosts are out trading what's left of their salvage, Aoba is confined to the small rented room Steve was so kind to share with him. The curtains are drawn to block out what little light is being cast through low-hanging storm clouds outside. He's been out of medication for near forty-eight hours, and it is taking its toll in the form of a vicious migraine. He was so close, but failed to ration the pills Cathaway pointedly warned him to save.

Nothing helps. Not music, not darkness, not holding still or curling up and counting measured breaths. Through the dim light his vision flashes red with veins and his heart beats loud and echoing in his ears. At times he sleeps, in short intervals before the pain takes another stab and wakes him again, as if it had it's own agenda. In those waking moments, when the throbbing subsides just enough for him to think, he worries of not making it to the docks in time.

And then, just hours before they are meant to gather and return to the station, Parker. Aoba feels the connection severed from him like a hot blade cutting through a limb. It makes him gasp and coil tighter in on himself, and a scream comes up as a collection of short, strained choking sounds trapped in his throat. Suddenly the pain he'd been in during these final hours is paled in comparison to this new sensation. It is loss, it is guilt, it is anger, it is disconnection, everything and nothing and it is too much. His eyes roll back and Aoba gives in to the pain, going limp and motionless where he lies.

That is the last Aoba remembers of Avera 9. At least, the Aoba most other hosts know. The Aoba that walks out of the Minte inn moments later, bag slung over his shoulder with eyes alert and brighter than before, is not the same nice boy. He moves quickly though the misting rain, ducking into the nearest alley to ask the first person he finds something a little more than suspicious- ]

I'm looking for Rhyl Lolk. [ Said with some difficulty, what a dumb name. But where Aoba heard it in passing and pushed it from his memory, he had remembered. If this alleged fighting circle he'd heard whispers about was anything like Rhyme, he wanted in. It'd been so long since Sly Blue participated in a proper fight, and with aching sense of loss hanging over him, he feels as though he has nothing left to lose. ]

C'mon, I don't have long. It'll be worth the while... that's a promise.

[ His overly conspicuous head of bright blue can be seen going deeper into the winding back alleys, following a hooded Bari as they go straight for the first fighting ring he can join. Follow him or join him, but don't try to stop him. ]

Wildcard

(( There’s still two days between to work with - if there's anything you'd like to do with Aoba, let's plot or just go for it! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[His hand is steady and solid even as Aoba tries and fails to push himself up in any significant way. It doesn't appear as if his- episode had cured the ill that had him calling for help in the first place, and it certainly would do nothing for the loss of a broodmate, not even for one with only a tenuous connection to the Nest. If anything it seems to have left him even less capable, although doubtless at least some of that was due to Prince.]

He is dead.

[There was no softening the blow, and Prince's tone is more of a statement of fact than it is an expression of his condolences. There was no time for softness. Avera drifted ever closer to the asteroid belt and the crowd grew ever more angry. There is only the slightest moment of hesitation before he draws his hand back and instead slips his arm under Aoba's shoulders and his bent knees, wrists and elbows through blood and dirt. He stands with almost too much ease even for someone of his build.

This would be more simple if he were unconscious.

He wastes no time in heading back the same way he had come, with little apparent interest in Aoba's inner turmoil and far more attention paid to the Bari that comes to stand before him, a twisting scar up his face and an uncomfortable tendency to lick his thin lips. When he opens his mouth to speak Prince does not waste the time to listen to his words- which would be obvious echoes of the same ones from the crowd- fight's not over. Instead he merely kicks him hard at the outside of his knee- not that most of the crowd has the chance to see what it is that makes the man crumple and scream.]

The fight is over.

[It's a very simple statement that is barely audible over the crowd, even in their relatively hushed confusion.]

[ He's not unconscious, but he's getting there. It's the price of his power, whether he's aware of having used it or not. But Aoba fights for wakefulness as he feels himself being lifted off the ground. There is no comfort in those sharp words, but there is security in the Prince's embrace. It's not comforting, (it's embarrassing, shameful that he should have to be carried) but he knows no fate similar to Parker's would befall him lying here in these arms. His eyes nearly roll back before there's a quick jerk of movement and a scream, and another decisive statement from Prince. ]

Fight...?

[ It's mumbled as they brush past others, (he can feel it, though numbly, as his hair catches on sleeves). They're leaving, ascending up from the underground ring to the back alleys again, a trail of uttered curses following as they pass. Outside the light is dim, but bright enough for Aoba's migraine to make him squint his eyes, stiffly blocking it best he can with the back of one hand. ]

The docks-

[ How much time had passed? How far where they from them? Would they make it in time? All of these questions groggily swim to the forefront of Aoba's worries, but the one that escapes his tired lips is- ]

Is... is Parker's body...?

[ -one he can't bring himself to finish. ]

[Either the speed with which he dropped the man who would challenge him or the fact that he had put a stop to Aoba- who had dropped all who had come before him- so quickly is enough to stop the crowd from interfering with their exit beyond their continued shouting. He does not particularly care which, or give it any thought beyond the fact that it is more convenient than fighting his way out would be. He would do it, if it were necessary, but it would somewhat diminish the lofty position of his judgement on the young Hosts if he'd been forced to it.

The sky outside is light bug it is growing darker all the time, and if the clouds weren't so thick you would be able to spot the asteroids blocking out the stars more than ever before. It would not be long now.

He ignores Aoba's slurred words for the most part. He was in no shape to comprehend the situation or explain it, as far as Prince could tell. The question, however, does give him some pause as he nears his abandoned speeder.

He has not thought on retrieving Parker's body. There is no purpose to it- he reconsiders- yes, possibly there is, but that makes him even less likely to pursue that option. It was grotesque, and while Cathaway may be more practical in his place, there were other options.]

The dead are at rest. It is the living that matter now.

[And a body would do little to help his brood mourn.

He pauses by the side of the bike, a moment of thoughtfulness before he discards options besides keeping the young Host in his lap. He seemed far too weak to hang on in his current state, and giving him the option to chose himself would only bring pride into the situation.]

The rest of your brood will need you close.

[The first loss always brought with it confusion in addition to the pain, the emptiness. You understood it- there was no way you couldn't- but to believe it was another story. To realize that the feeling would never truly leave.]

You should attempt to rest.

It hurts...

[ His head, his body, but nothing more than the hole, wide and gaping and void, at the forefront of his mind. He didn't know Parker, in fact his broodmate had taken special care to make sure they kept a far distance, and their bond had been wholly artificial to Aoba. And still it hurts, more than his concern over possibly losing Ren, almost as if he'd lost Granny, his only family-

Prince says to rest and he agrees, though it's more subconscious agreement than anything. His aching mind is trying to race a million miles a minute, but it's like running through quicksand. He tries to clear it as Ahsoka taught him, but finds himself distracted by the feeling of Prince's arms around him instead. It's... a strange distraction, but he'd rather focus on anything else now. His muscles are firm, warm beneath the smooth fabric hugging them, tight. Again there is no comfort in him, but security. Aoba breathes out and finally allows himself to fall into the security Prince provides.

Before Prince can rev the bike's engine Aoba is asleep. His head in the crook of his arm, half his face pressed up against Prince's chest, the rest of him slumped over this lap and the bike. Out cold, one side of his fractured mind too exhausted to go on, the other too shaken to show it's face. ]

( mostly open log ) how much damage can hosts do in 2 hours

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