station72 | [hatch log] wake up, starshine

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[hatch log] wake up, starshine

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :009
SUMMARY: What's this? It's a whole new set of tools!
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

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

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. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But when the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. 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 happening 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. Maybe it's time for a change? 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 the closer you are to these strangers. --No. That's not right either. A sense of familiarity runs so deep between you it might as well be cellular.

Welcome to Station 72. It buzzes with activity - a pulse of life that beats beyond the four of you and this strange nesting deck. Somewhere deep in the Station, other minds call to yours. They are bright, shining spots in your subconscious. They are sun-warm gentle, or the back and forward lapse of some tidal wave pushing in and pulling away, or they are fire and the taste of ash, or they are a cold black stone, or they are a tangled garden. No two links are exactly the same, but you know for certain that you are connected to all of them in at least some small way.

It's time to figure out how - and why.

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for the new hosts and anyone looking to greet them after their hatching. You’re welcome to make your own logs separate to this going forward!l and tag any old logs that have been forward dated to this point or beyond (there's a lot of catch-all's on the comm right now, and we encourage you to go snooping on them!).

Additionally, you can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE. You can find additional setting information about the Station 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 )

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[ Misato accepts the mental shove as it comes, stepping back as far as he pushes her but no farther, remaining on the periphery and watching still. There's little need for force when the thresholds between them are so flimsy, blurred. If she concentrates enough, if she pushes aside the noise in her own head, she can almost feel strands of brown hair against her fingers and a deep, abiding ache.

That's what causes her to take one more step back. Outwardly, she gives him a smile. It's polite and amused, but distant. ]

You don't get to have normal hellos from me anymore.

[ Her cross pendant somehow hangs heavier against her neck. Silver, too. She fights back the urge to laugh, and the habit of wrapping her hand around it, keeping herself content with the memory of its sharp angles digging into her palm. Father, father, did you see this coming? She takes the last few steps toward him, resolute, stopping just close enough to extend a handshake. ]

Misato. Are you really--?

( so he can push people out if he wants. good to know. misato lingers, he can feel it, but she's not right there anymore, and that's what's important. there is still some small measure of privacy to be had in his own head, and damon will guard that viciously. his thoughts, his psyche, are his own. )

Anymore implies I ever got one in the first place, ( he responds breezily, watching misato with a predator's eye — evaluating her for weakness, for strength, hell, for edibility. he wouldn't, yet — elena's here, and he needs to earn her trust back before he eats anyone she might decide is important to her — but it's always good to know what one's options are.

his instinct isn't to muck about in her head, or he might go through her thoughts instead of trying to figure her out just by looking. )

Really this handsome? It ain't plastic surgery, honey.

( her implication was lost on him, as he has no idea yet what does and does not pass through these links. his instinct when presented with something he wasn't expecting and can't yet parse is almost uniformly sarcasm, so. )

[ His predatory look doesn't faze her. Apathy unnerves her, submissiveness disturbs her and self-deprecation irritates her, but aggression is familiar and thus welcome. She's edible, normal and completely human though she stands with the confidence of someone who can hold her own in a fight, her stance distinctly masculine, legs apart, arms crossed, back straight.

She lets out a huff of amusement at his sarcasm, but she visibly relaxes a touch. ]

You're not my type.

[ Nobody's her type. Nobody, now. There's a twinge of something that may be grief, cold and sharp, flashing through the link in the moment it takes for her to pull it back and shut it away in its cage. She crosses her arms tighter against her stomach. ]

Anyway, I don't really know what that hymn means. Something about being dead but alive, alive but dead, is that you?

( that earns a scoff, and damon looks over at misato with smirk. )

Well, that's a lie. I'm everyone's type. ( everyone except for the ones who matter. the one who matters. it's something that damon doesn't think about much — he rarely thinks about anything that hurts long enough for it to actually hurt him — but the twinge of the not-quite-truth might bleed through anyway. no matter how much confidence he projects, he knows no one wants him. not anyone important, anyway.

the grief that makes its way over to him he latches onto, trying to examine it, pick it apart and figure out how all this works, but misato drags it away from him before he can. he needs to figure out how to provoke emotions in other people more often, so that he can figure this out.

an item for the to-do list. )

You don't know what it means, but you brought it up?

( there's a heavy tone of judgment in the question, but damon eventually shrugs, unperturbed. )

I don't know what it means either. ( the question, though, makes him narrow his eyes. a spike of fight-or-flight shoots through the link, damon not sure which to give in to — if misato knows he's a vampire, he should kill her, but elena will be upset. he might be able to get her to understand the necessity, but it'd set them back, and he doesn't have time for that.

for now, he settles on doing nothing, staying where he is and assessing misato from across the room. )

Use your big girl words, Sister. Is what me?

( if she wants him to admit to it, she has to actually say the word. no pussyfooting around the question. )

[ That age-old mind body problem. Misato tips her head slightly at his insistence on being everyone's type, because it's true, he has a face fit for fashion magazines and the faux confidence required to slip through society gathering admirers. Sure. But the body one has to occupy is more often than not a false fit for the person within. It's true of her, she thinks, and too true of so many she knows. Of him? That is yet to be seen, if that whiff of low self-worth says anything. She replies with a shrug to say can't help it.

The judgmental tone meets little reaction from her, because she has always had to be the one to ask the stupid questions in the room and the role suits her. It's only when he dubs her Sister that she pulls one side of her lip into a displeased and barely restrained annoyance. ]

A vampire.

[ The word is accompanied by a wince as she inwardly scolds herself for believing in this Anne Rice shit. ]

Any care instructions I should know about?

( at least she has the balls to say it out loud. damon purses his lips, head tilted slightly as he regards misato. she can hardly be accused of being direct, but she's not afraid, either. she feels familiar, in a way he can't quite explain — through the link, he can feel how tightly controlled she is, and yet how chaotic beneath that control. whatever is inside her is like whatever's inside him, and that is both dangerous and intriguing. what's inside him is volatile, violent, unpredictable. having two of him here is not a good thing.

but he's never met someone like him, either. )

Don't feed me after midnight, ( he says eventually, finally reaching to make good on that handshake she'd offered. )

Damon. You got that out of my head?

( is it something everyone will be able to pull out of him? how much does he have to worry, here? )

Edited (introductions... are a thing.......) 2017-02-23 13:50 (UTC)

[ Misato has bigger balls than most people of the manly variety, let it be known. But while he's someone who has come to terms with his own volatile nature, she still tells herself that emotions and reactions and in fact everything within her grasp can be subdued and placed under her control. Chaos is an enemy, the unknown is to be feared and made known. His ease is equally disturbing and intriguing.

He's clever too. Her handshake is professional but too firm, and she pulls back quickly. ]

Alright, Furby. I'm guessing you haven't gotten the lowdown yet?

[ She eases on her trespassing now that it's been called out, drawing back into herself, crossing her arms in front of her chest. ]

I'm pretty sure you're one of those-- one of my broodmates. Do you know what that means?

( if damon cared, he might try to give misato some sage advice. something he's realized himself over 173 years, which he has never found to be false: you are in control of nothing but your own actions, and sometimes not even that. the only constant in the world is chaos and change, and if you spend your time fighting that, you'll leave yourself without the energy to fight the things you can affect. better to surrender to the chaos than try to wrestle it into submission, because that's a losing battle.

unfortunately, he doesn't care. misato's a stranger bitch at this point — a stranger bitch who has managed to intrigue him within the span of a minute, but a stranger bitch nonetheless. his sage advice is reserved for people he actually cares about. )

I've been wandering this place for a while, haven't gotten much information.

( her retreat is noted in the way that it makes his own head feel more open, like he has more space for himself once she's gone, but he doesn't react. )

No clue. Let me get a juice box and some animal crackers, we can have storytime.

( he turns to continue in the direction he was walking when misato found him, following the scent of food toward the kitchens. )

[ Others just as wise has told her, and she knows it and refuses it. Her actions control the world around her. It has, it will. That she's a mere human never stopped her. All doubters and naysayers will earn a simple declaration of watch me. After all, losing battles are the only kind worth fighting and worth winning, no matter the amount of second-hand embarrassment that causes for those watching her stumble and fall and try again because see, she has pulled off too many impossibilities to stop now.

Hope never seemed so grim as when Misato uses it to light her way.

She scrunches up her face in distinct irritation when he goes off in search of food, before letting out a huff and following him anyway. No broodmate of hers is gonna be left wandering around clueless, okay. ]

Please tell me you mean a real juice box and not a human juice box.

( the easy, if annoyed, acceptance from misato of his dietary needs amuses damon. enough so that he stops on his way to kitchens, turning toward her with bright eyes and a predatory smirk. )

Why, are you offering?

( he lets the question hang between them for a moment before his smirk widens and he turns back around, beginning his search again. )

If I'm going to starve myself of the one I have to have the other. At least until I know who I can trust not to try to kill me if I ask pretty pretty please can I have a nibble on your carotid.

( for all he's amused by her, and is willing to talk about something he rarely alludes to outside of his trusted circle, damon focuses very intently on misato's reaction to his words. she might be alright now, but that doesn't mean she won't become a problem when he eventually does have to eat. )

No.

[ That's a full sentence. Decisive and automatic coupled with a set frown on her face. Don't even think about it, Damon. As much as she loathes herself, this here is the body her father saved and in a strange way she feels herself both despicable and sacred at the same time. Her life is so viciously guarded, hard-fought, that it becomes precious by result. Besides, to become so needed as to be someone else's food source is a kind of intimacy she's decidedly uncomfortable with.

But she explains none of this to him, already moving past him to fetch a packet of pink potato chips that may or may not be edible for humans. With a mouth full of half-chewed alien potato: ]

I have your back if you're ever in a pinch, you can trust me on that. But until then, I'm sure you'll find a way to manage.

( she doesn't explain, and he doesn't ask. he doesn't need to — no is the answer he expected, and there's plenty of reasons for her to give it. it's a kind of fill-in-the-blank: no because i'm a sane person who has no desire to let a creature that feeds on blood near my veins, no because it's weird, no because i don't know you, no because... insert reason here. damon's not interested in misato's reasoning, he's interested in her reaction. the way she says it, the way she looks at him afterward.

she's not afraid, which is almost laughable. he has half a mind to bite her just to show her that he can, that trusting him is stupid and letting her guard down was a mistake. he pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her, thinking about it. it'd be easy... if he wanted to do it.

he doesn't. for whatever reason, he doesn't feel like fucking this up justyet. so he walks into the kitchen, grabs the bag of chips out of misato's hands, and takes one for himself. )

I'm very resourceful, ( he agrees, smiling tightly at her. ) Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?

[ Misato isn't afraid of danger. Here's the thing, it's not so much that she welcomes death, because she would fight it still with every breath left in her, but it has become such a familiar companion that the fear of it no longer registers. The rush of adrenaline signals excitement, exhilaration, rather than terror. Her exaggerated reactions, like now -- eyebrows raised in surprise when her breakfast is taken from her before her face shifts to a comical pout -- belie a calmer, less volatile underbelly. She feels a fraction of what she expresses, and the things she feels the most, her fear of the dark and of the sea, she can't reveal.

She stomps closer and swipes the snack back from him, gripping it so firmly that she probably crushed most of the chips into tiny pieces that she grab a handful of to shove in her mouth to chew, open-mouthed, in full view of him. Oh, try her. ]

Hey! You [ vampire who just asked if he can bite her ] don't get to school me on my eating habits.

( misato. )

Gross, ( he says. for a moment, he just stands there, eyes narrowed at her, and then before she can even blink he's blurred across the room, moving so fast she can barely even see him — with her bag of chips in hand. this is what happens when you're rude, misato. only people with class get... food...... )

At least I know how to eat without spraying my food everywhere. Seriously, did you have a mom? Dad? Anyone who taught you how to eat like a normal person?

( he's not even eating the chips, he's just holding onto them because he doesn't want her to have them. if misato starts to move toward him looking to take them back, he'll just flash step away from her again, however many times it takes before she gives up.

being that this is misato, it might take a while. not that damon knows that yet. )

[ The thing is, she isn't even upset over being told how to chew or having her parentage questioned. Some normal people talk with their mouths full. Some normal people don't finish their food, which would be just as rude. Ritsuko tells her off for chewing loudly all the time and Misato doesn't, in fact, care about what she and others think of her manners.

She's grousing, face drawn up in a comedic frown, because he stole her food, rudest of all. He's playing games with her, showing her up, making a fool out of her, and she didn't even want chips before he asked for storytime. That's not happening now, because she never gives up, sure, but she also hates games. ]

Are you gonna start asking me good questions or are we done here?

( if this were any other situation, damon would happily continue to needle misato until she threw her hands up and left. it's kind of what he does. but he does need her, at least for now, and he can't drive her away until he's gotten the answers he wants.

she's still not getting the chips back, though. )

You said we're broodmates. What the hell does that mean?

[ If he keeps needling her, she would yell shut up, which is what one says when there's nothing more to say, and stomp off. But she knows he needs her, as much as someone new to a place needs an answer or two anyway, no matter how unwilling he seems to simply ask for it and say thank you, ma'am.

Misato takes a seat on the counter, face still knit in annoyance. ]

It means it's easier for us to talk to each other through our minds, compared with the others. It means, if you feel something really strongly, I'll probably feel it too. It means you're kind of-- [ She clenches her fists, unclenches. ] --An extra set of limbs. Mentally speaking.

( that's one thing misato will come to realize about damon: he s rarely, if ever, willing to simply ask and say thank you. for anything. at all. lily salvatore is rolling in her grave at the man her son turned into, but damon's unconcerned — he doesn't need to be polite to get what he wants. e is both charming and intimidating enough that people usually just give it to him.

as misato explains, damon chews pointedly on a handful of chips, mouth closed and everything. look, this is how normal people do it. isn't he just the very most helpful person you ever did meet? )

I feel everything very strongly, that's gonna suck for you, ( he says, after a very obvious swallow. ) Are there others in our brood, or is it just you and me?

[ Charm and intimidation would make a formidable combo, and Misato can see where his pride comes from with the detachment of a passerby. See, she falls for vulnerability, for quiet strength, for the sense of wonder that she herself doesn't have. Opposites. He's similar enough for her to interpret his actions the way she would decipher her own. ]

I can handle it. [ She says it with a shrug, one also meant for his demonstration of polite chewing. ] Well, there's Beth and Kavinsky, they're Americans like you. [ It's notable, in her view. She's the outsider. ] Shepard might be one too, but she may as well be from space, but she was born on Earth, who knows where. Sirius is British, but he's gone to sleep.

[ There's a beat when she considers saying more, more on what she means by sleep, but the link between them betrays the sense of loss readily. She finds she doesn't really need to explain, rather, she points a finger straight at him, manners be damned. ]

Do you always try to annoy people to get to know them?

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[hatch log] wake up, starshine

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