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Entry tags:
- *mission log,
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- bucky barnes [mcu],
- cathaway,
- commander shepard [mass effect],
- damon salvatore [the vampire diaries],
- john murphy [the 100],
- joseph kavinsky [raven cycle],
- lexa [the 100],
- misato katsuragi [evangelion],
- petre dodrescu [original],
- pidge gunderson (katie holt) [voltron],
- sam wilson [mcu],
- seviilia brightwing [warcraft],
- takashi "shiro" shirogane [voltron],
- the prince
MISSION: WAYPOINT SHRIL, PT. I
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day :025 - :029
SUMMARY: Welcome to Waypoint Shril, the soon-to-be home to the galaxy's most incredible competition!
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
SOMETHING IS WRONG. Strange, how a moment ago everything seemed perfectly fine - as normal as things get on Station 72 - and then the next the entire void shifts by a degree. There's a crackling, anticipatory feel in the air. Dwelled on too long and it might become nauseating, triggering some hindbrain impulse the nervous system under the skin or--
Something is coming.
Something is coming undone.
In the heart of the Station in a small, featureless circular room, The Prince and Cathaway dredge the Station from its mooring. There's a rush of shared adrenaline, then an massive sensation like an inhale. A gulp of breath. Relief floods through the body like something palpable as the massive beehive structure of the Station snaps into real space above the deep space space station known as Waypoint Shril.
( ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬...Please meet us in the hangar. We have your next assignment....▬▬▬. )
Once they've arrived at the hangar, the Hosts will be briefed by Cathaway and Prince on their new objective. They'll be given their mission kits, along with a written brief on their databanks. The usual warnings apply. Try not to kill anyone. Do not get killed yourself. And accomplish your mission. From there, pack yourself onto the transport shuttle and make your way to the Waypoint. --One of you knows how to drive, right?
Once ejected from the Station, you'll find yourself on one of literally thousands of ships. The black space above Waypoint Shril is full to bursting with air traffic from the smallest pod-shaped one being ship to the most gargantuan floating planet cruisers. Some of them rival even the Station which now lurks, a mottled white and grey latticework structure that's no more bizarre to look at than any of its neighbors.
VROOM. A ship shaped like a sword with a naked multi-limbed alien painted in lascivious, technicolor detail along the blade slices directly across the path of the shuttle transport. It blares a proximity alarm and a holographic message full of swearing and threats pops up even as the ship blasts down toward the traffic choked landing platform in the distance. A school of insectoid fighters go swarming after it. In the distance, the flash of ships dropping out of hyperspace through the gate rings gleams like a strobe light and on around the landing platform itself buzz two dozen security vessels desperately trying to keep order.
Welcome to Waypoint Shril. Don't crash into anyone on the way in.
((OOC NOTES: Welcome to Waypoint Shril! This log covers the arrival on the Waypoint and can be used for anything prior to the start of the Aurora Blue Arena! on Day :029. However, feel free to make your own logs if you choose! You can find a complete mission overview and a place to ask any mission-specific questions over at the OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day :025 - :029
SUMMARY: Welcome to Waypoint Shril, the soon-to-be home to the galaxy's most incredible competition!
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
SOMETHING IS WRONG. Strange, how a moment ago everything seemed perfectly fine - as normal as things get on Station 72 - and then the next the entire void shifts by a degree. There's a crackling, anticipatory feel in the air. Dwelled on too long and it might become nauseating, triggering some hindbrain impulse the nervous system under the skin or--
Something is coming.
Something is coming undone.
In the heart of the Station in a small, featureless circular room, The Prince and Cathaway dredge the Station from its mooring. There's a rush of shared adrenaline, then an massive sensation like an inhale. A gulp of breath. Relief floods through the body like something palpable as the massive beehive structure of the Station snaps into real space above the deep space space station known as Waypoint Shril.
Once they've arrived at the hangar, the Hosts will be briefed by Cathaway and Prince on their new objective. They'll be given their mission kits, along with a written brief on their databanks. The usual warnings apply. Try not to kill anyone. Do not get killed yourself. And accomplish your mission. From there, pack yourself onto the transport shuttle and make your way to the Waypoint. --One of you knows how to drive, right?
Once ejected from the Station, you'll find yourself on one of literally thousands of ships. The black space above Waypoint Shril is full to bursting with air traffic from the smallest pod-shaped one being ship to the most gargantuan floating planet cruisers. Some of them rival even the Station which now lurks, a mottled white and grey latticework structure that's no more bizarre to look at than any of its neighbors.
VROOM. A ship shaped like a sword with a naked multi-limbed alien painted in lascivious, technicolor detail along the blade slices directly across the path of the shuttle transport. It blares a proximity alarm and a holographic message full of swearing and threats pops up even as the ship blasts down toward the traffic choked landing platform in the distance. A school of insectoid fighters go swarming after it. In the distance, the flash of ships dropping out of hyperspace through the gate rings gleams like a strobe light and on around the landing platform itself buzz two dozen security vessels desperately trying to keep order.
I. PLATFORM ALFA
When the ship finally docks on Waypoint Shril - after a lot, lot longer than you may have liked -, the scene that greets you is more hectic than even the busiest rush-hour on Concordia. There are simply too many people in too small and too hastily prepared of a space. The platform itself was clearly designed for utility, not for comfort and not for style. The walls- towering sheets of welded metal from a countless number of sources, flecked with old paint and the occasional slash of grafitti - offer nothing in the realm of sound dampening, and the electro-cloth banners that hang from the ceiling, advertising the Aurora Blue Arena! in dozens of different languages do little to help. As a result, the entire platform echoes with thousands of voices trying to talk over each other and the newly enhanced intercom system struggling to be heard over the din as it works to provide simple directions and instructions for the teeming mass of tourists.
In the press of flesh and the constant motion, it’s easy to get swept away from your party. It’s easy to find that the items you just had on you are suddenly missing, expertly palmed away by slippery fingers as you try to push your way towards the series of pneumatic tubes leading to the Waypoint proper. Ship's hydraulics hiss, lights flash, and the smell of greasy stall food spreads out from the edges of the platform. There are a few bright-eyed, clever locals - or what count for locals on Waypoint Shril - who don’t hesitate to reach out and grab your arm, offering to be your guide. Asking if you’re here as a spectator or a participant. Asking if you need information. Company. Everything has a price.
Get your bearings - if you can. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks.
II. THE MOST FABULOUS PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE (Please Excuse Our Dust!)
Waypoint Shril's main thoroughfares and twisting platforms may have made sense to someone, but now absolutely no one knows how to navigate them as the ABA! has swept through Waypoint, bulldozing and building up anything and everything in its path. Oh, did you like that tentacle sandwich shop you stopped in five minutes ago? Too bad! We decided two minutes ago we're tearing it down to make way for a spa-slash-beer-garden! Stand back please, there are explosives detonating in this area in 3, 2, 1…--!
Everywhere you look, Waypoint Shril is undergoing a dramatic transformation. Maybe there are places on the outskirts, far from the Arena Zone that aren't literally being paved over or built on top of, but they seem to be the exception to the rule. Don't get lost as the neighborhood quite literally changes shape around you!
III. MEET THE COMPETITION
Between the fabulous prizes and the fabulous fame - every single still-living winner of the previous competitions became household names before they stepped out of the Arena, then went on to live lavish lives of excess where they're paid exorbitant fees just to be seen and heard, known for canoodling and cavorting with the best, the brightest, the most privileged the Galaxy has to offer- it’s no surprise that the ABA! draws competitors like a magnet. And while not everyone advertises their status, plenty do - hoping to exchange the slimmest possibility of their victory for favors or drinks or just plain old attention. They’re loud, they’re visible, and plenty of them are very, very drunk, or whatever counts for drunk for their species.
If you want to size up the competition, now’s the time - in the middle of Blunt Force, with scores of other competitors lined up. The club itself is home to a deep, thrumming beat that vibrates through your chest, the industrial concrete walls covered in splashes of electro-paint that pulses in time with the beat. The floor is dark and smooth, the bar is long and there isn’t a single seat to be found at it, just an endless slab of some ancient black stone that drinks slide back and forth across. Every bartender wears a half of a mask in clear plastic run through with simple circuitry in complex patterns and they’ll keep you hydrated for a modest price. Above the floor on a catwalk composed of corrugated metal and transparasteel there are low couches and cushions in rich fabrics of a hundred different patterns of velvet and neon, two dozen tables, and another small bar that will hand out drinks and powders and oils and smoke. The patrons are as varied as anything else in this place, as hodge-podge. Slender, slick looking people with hunched backs and long necks. Short, broad aliens with four legs and four arms. Something heavily shrouded, the only part of them visible a proboscis. Some are here to dance, some to drink, some to talk and more than a few to fight - maybe for keeps. Hell, you might be one of them.
IV. WILDCARD
There's plenty to see, do and explore. You've got a few days before the competition kicks off - might as well make the most of it.
((OOC NOTES: Welcome to Waypoint Shril! This log covers the arrival on the Waypoint and can be used for anything prior to the start of the Aurora Blue Arena! on Day :029. However, feel free to make your own logs if you choose! You can find a complete mission overview and a place to ask any mission-specific questions over at the OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))
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There's a hum of understanding at Shiro's response, and Sam's not sure if it's just because he caught Shiro off guard or what, but he's quietly glad that Shiro doesn't try to hide what he's thinking. ]
Wanna get out of here for a little bit, head back to the Station with me? I got something I gotta set up.
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You asking me to fly you up to a space station? I really don't see how I can say no.
[No matter what's happened, or what will happen, the thrill of being in a cockpit again, of piloting again... it hasn't dulled in the slightest.]
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I was hoping you'd say that. I got plenty of time before I gotta be back at work, I still can't believe they're letting me work as a tech in their clinic. [ Or maybe it's just that Sam's more paranoid than them, but either way, with any luck he'll find something good registering the competitors. He laces their fingers together again as he starts towards the platform area, absently running his thumb over the back of Shiro's hand. ] Can I count this as a date?
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[Especially when Sam kisses him and talks about work and god, he'd give a lot right now just to be normal for five minutes.]
Must be short-staffed. Or they've got enough people all of the sudden to need an extra hand or two.
[He shrugs, but it's more teasing than anything.] Long as you don't distract me on liftoff.
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These are the little moments that Sam's always talking about enjoying.
He gives Shiro a look, bumping their shoulders together playfully. ]
You saying they didn't hire me because of my natural talent or my charisma? [ But he's teasing, too, and his smile turns even more playful at that second bit. ] Depends on what counts as a distraction.
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[Because it was never going to happen.]
I could say that, if it makes you feel better. [His head ducks, that shoulder nudging closer.] I get the feeling you already know the answer to that.
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And as long as they're together, Sam'll always find times like this, when they can just be together. ]
It always makes me feel better when someone compliments my natural talent. [ Amusement and affection bleeds across their mental connection, and he doesn't stop holding Shiro's hand even when they reach the shuttle on the platform area. Instead, Sam leans in, pressing Shiro up against the ship so he can kiss him, long and slow and with just a hint of teeth tugging at Shiro's bottom lip as he pulls away. ] I'll get my distracting out before we take off, then.
no subject
[He was going to finish that phrase, or make it a little light. Kind of a joke. But then his back is to a shuttle. There's one belated moment of wide-eyed blink before the crash of affection and the press of a mouth to his gets the picture through his thick head.]
[There's a sense of tension flooding out of him. Of affection rolling through him and he arches a bit into it, leaning his shoulders flat to the ship, letting his hands rest on Sam's hips.]
Uh huh... [Wow, he sure is distracted. Good job, Sam.]
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He pushes closer to kiss Shiro again, his other hand resting on the smooth surface of the shuttle. How the hell is he ever supposed to resist kissing Shiro when he can feel the way it makes some of his tension ease, the rush of affection that Shiro has for him?
Sam pours it back in return, feathered wings curling around his mind as he doesn't break this kiss, hand sliding along the shuttle until he can press it flat against Shiro's chest, over his heart. ]
no subject
[This is something more than he's had before. Something better than he's had before. He can't remember feeling like this for someone. About someone.]
[His own hands are gripping on, returning the kiss moment by moment, while the rest of him feels like it's in freefall. That same rush.]
no subject
It is freefall, the moment after your feet have left the ground and before your wings kick in, waiting until the last second to activate them because it builds up better speed - and just because you can, because there's no feeling better in the world.
There are very, very few things that even come close to flying, but kissing Shiro, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath Sam's palm, the slide of Sam's fingers through his hair, the warmth of Shiro's skin - that's one of them.
There's a heavy reluctance when Sam finally breaks the kiss, and he follows it up by pressing his lips to the scar on Shiro's face. ]
no subject
[Or felt free to do.]
[These are those times where that part of himself, that hidden, quiet little piece that is still very much himself -- no titles, no ranks, no expectations beyond the star-eyed pilot daydreaming about space. And maybe he's a little addicted to it. To the way it makes him feel.]
[All the physical sensations included, of course.]
We're... never getting off the ground. If you keep doing that...
[But it comes out too breathless to be annoyed. Expression gone glassy and color plastered across a scarred, pale face.]
no subject
It's still really hard to pull himself away. Shiro isn't the only one addicted to the way this makes him feel, to the way it makes them both feel. Mental feedback is a hell of a thing, when you can feel that the person you're kissing is just as into it as you are.
But he does pull away, because he'd wanted to go up to the Station for a reason - and some of those reasons are probably pretty unhappy about sitting on the ground in Sam's bag. ]
Remember that for later, all right, I wanna pick back up where we left off when I don't have a couple of fish waiting for a real aquarium.
no subject
Are... you sure that's a good idea? People are still around --
[He had more to say, but it's sort of silenced by the whole I have fish in my bag thing. His expression is quickly flickering from dazed and interested to why the fuck do you have a bag of fish. And back again.]
[As he looks between Sam and the bag.]
You have fish in there?
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Not on the Station.
[ Then he steps back, leaning down to heft up his duffel bag - it's clear by the heft that there's a lot more than just fish in there, but Sam handles it easily as he pulls open the door to the shuttle. ]
Yeah. Told you I wanted to set something up, didn't I?
1/2
[It isn't that he's unwilling. It's that he doesn't want anyone to overhear. As it were.]
You're... uh. You're sure?
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Yeah, but I didn't think it involved fish. Is there even anywhere to put them up there?
no subject
So it's a... very pleasant surprise when Shiro goes scarlet, when Sam can feel that shiver down his spine. It makes him want to feel it again, to trace its path with fingertips over Shiro's skin, and Sam's response is much more feeling over the mental link than it is words. Yeah, yeah he's pretty damn sure.
It's a struggle to pull completely away to settle his bag in one of the seats and then get himself in the co-pilot's chair, but the sooner they're on their way, the sooner Sam can get everything up. ]
I got a collapsible aquarium in here - alien tech. They're a present, I'm gonna put them in Shepard's room.
no subject
[Hard not to shudder again, a pleasant one, when the response comes. He tries to cover it by stepping into the pilot seat, by checking on the flight prep. The ship's already familiar to him, now. Adapting to it like an old, familiar car.]
[It comes so easily anymore. And it's sort of nice.]
You got her something? [Why would anyone do that.] She didn't strike me as the ... gift-liking type.
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Except it hasn't happened yet, and Sam probably shouldn't get ahead of himself. They've still got to get up there, and he's still got a couple of things to set up.
He chuckles softly, leaning back in the chair with a smile that's somewhere between fond and exasperated. ]
No, she doesn't, does she? Maybe she'll punch me for doing it as a surprise. [ There's a pause, then he amends, ] That was a joke, I'm pretty sure she probably won't punch me. The Station ain't home, but that don't mean we shouldn't all have a little something to make it a little better.
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[But holy crap if someone like the Darkling found out, he would be Mortified.]
If she does, she'll get one back. [There's not much venom there, but not much fondness, either. Protectiveness. He flicks the flight switches a little more firmly than necessary.]
I mean -- that's good, at least.
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Besides, as far as he's concerned, if the Darkling finds out it's because he was snooping, and then he brought it on himself. ]
Look at you, big brave hero coming to my rescue. [ Sam's teasing, but he actually is a little flattered - even if he can take care of himself. ]
Shepard's... [ He pauses, trying to figure out how to describe her, or their relationship. Friends doesn't quite cover it when the only reason that he remembers that they're not broodmates is the shape of his connection with her - and Damon, and Misato, and Kavinsky - rather than its strength. They might as well be, but for the slight difference in frequency of the hum of their symbiotes. The same as he has with Clint and Shiro, the same as he's starting to have with Steve even though he struggles to keep his shields up there out of respect. Well. As much as any of them are the same when he feels them so differently in the spaces they occupy in his mind, in the different colors of their heartbeats that echo his.
It's not like what he has with Bucky, where he's starting to understand the feel of a brood bond made deeper by choice, but it's so much more than anything that could be summed up with the word friend. ]
She's family.
no subject
[It's mostly kidding. He even sounds a bit distracted, when he says it. He's busy cuing up engines, settling himself into position for liftoff. It's almost second nature. He's taken the shuttle down, Murphy up. A few runs in between. He's almost used to the traffic now.]
Hold on. It's tricky in through here.
[This is where his brain is the most at ease. Doing this. Focusing on moving through the crowded airspace. He's not as fast as Keith, more methodical. But smooth as anything.]
[And he can't help thinking he'd like to see his teammate navigate through here. See what he could do with all this. As Sam is skimming through thoughts of everyone else.]
[Even if their conclusions circle around to similar places. Similar exasperations and fondness. Family is a good word. And he shakes his head.]
This mean I have to worry about her asking what my intentions with you are?
no subject
It's a good thing he and Sam have the same sense of humor, because that was terrible. It makes Sam laugh, warm and amused, and the way he's looking at Shiro is a mix between absolute fondness and you dork.
Family indeed.
He does enjoy watching Shiro work, though, and he does his best to keep his thoughts to a strictly PG level of admiration. Sam doesn't want to distract him more than he already has. ]
Nah. Well, maybe. You never know with her, she might think it's funny.
no subject
I don't know how I feel about her thinking that's funny.
[He really doesn't. Honestly, he doesn't know how he feels about her at all. But Sam's opinion counts for something, so he'll reserve judgment. And, you know, focus the majority of his attention on getting them safely to the station.]
[It's not far now.]
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