[hatch log] welcome to the void-- wait no, waypoint shril

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: The Station, Waypoint Shril
WHEN: DAY :027
SUMMARY: New hosts take the universe for a spin.
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. Not suddenly. 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 is... exhausting. There's both a both deep weariness in your bones and a pulse of anticipation crawling under your skin. Your body feels heavy at first, like you're somehow too dense or too real. But maybe that sensation eases eventually. Or maybe you just get used to it?

( ▬▬▬▬▬...There you are. Join us on the hangar, won't you....▬▬▬? )

It doesn't sound like a voice as much as it just resembles sounds, the sensation of warmth and security like napping in a window at the height of summer. If it's followed, you'll eventually wind your day to a massive hangar bay peppered with a myriad of small and medium ships ranging from strange to ornately beautiful to hardly recognizable. Waiting in front of a small silver craft is an aging woman with greying hair, fine jewlery chains tinkling with a multitude of metal charms sound through her clothing and along her forearms. You know instinctively she was the one who spoke to you.

She smiles now, moving to climb into the (very) small ship. There's room enough for all of you if you pack in tight. "Come along," says Cathaway. "The line for Platform Alfa is long enough that we can answer your questions on the way."





WAYPOINT SHRIL might be bursting at the seams with activity, noise and people, but there's no missing when something in the universe shifts. For most older Hosts, they wont quite be able to put their finger on what's going on, but Chuuya and Elena? They know exactly what's happening - somewhere in this universe, new Hosts are hatching and at least one of them belongs to you.

Not that the mystery lasts long for everyone else either. A few hours after the shift, Cathaway's speaks to you. Her voice is clear as a crystal bell, suffused with an intense and simple joy that has nothing to do with--

( New hosts have arrived. Please come meet us at Platform Alfa if you're able. They'll need your assistance. )

--and everything to do with the sensation of a ship hurtling as a bullet through space, the nauseating feeling of darting between other small craft and buzzing around larger class ships.

Come fetch your new friends, everyone. Waypoint Shril could be dangerous for the initiated. After all, the Catacomb Hotel is filled with construction zones and open elevator shafts, the streets are thronged with vendors looking to make a quick Shen off unsuspecting tourists, the area immediately surrounding the Stadium Zone is jammed with intergalactic reporters and especially hot headed or famous competitors filming a pre-competition conference, and - most mortifying of all - the line to leave Platform Alfa is apparently several hours long. What's a new Host to do without a little guidance?

---

((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 and tag any old logs that have been forward dated to this point or beyond. We're about halfway through the first week at Waypoint Shril, so feel free to touch the mission drop post as long as you're appropriately timing your encounters.


Additionally, you can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE. You can find additional setting information about the Station HERE. Information about Waypoint Shril is located at the Current Mission Brief - you may consider this information more or less ICly known. Last but not least, 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

Cathaway | NPC | ota

[polyphonos]

A. THE SILVER SHIP (closed to new Hosts)

[The little spaceship isn't quite as cramped on the inside as it had seemed just looking at it, but it isn't precisely a comfortable fit either. The seats are small, the harnesses slightly too tight, and the passenger section might as well be part of the cockpit. There's certainly very little in the way of a divider and the woman in the pilot's seat going through the last of her pre-flight checks hardly seems to have more legroom.

Cathaway flips a few switches and spins a wheels on the ship's glittering digital display. A low sound begins to pass through the body of the craft, humming and giving and shifting as the engines pitch to life and settle into idling.]

Be sure to get that harness nice and secure. [She sounds-- delighted, a taste of something sweet on the tongue.] The launch in this can be intimidating.

B. PLATFORM ALFA

[Cathaway is a small, narrow woman; she should be easy to lose or miss in the throng of life on Platform Alfa. Instead the press of beings - in every color, shape and size imaginable - seem to bubble out around her. Why is a mystery (she certainly doesn't look intimidating), but it makes her easy to spot where she's currently perched: standing on a concrete bench and studying the wide assortment of ships and small speeders buzzing around the platform with all the fascination of a child.

She has ten minutes left on the meter. Might as well enjoy it.]

a

[sistershoggoth]

[ Intimidating isn't a word that Annie has ever known in her life. She buckles up because she doesn't want to be thrown around the goddamn cabin when they take off, but she's straining against the straps, mouth open with intrigue. Her mind is whirring, not putting in any effort to contain her high line of emotion. She's ecstatically curious, and perhaps easily and thoughtlessly feeding on Cathaway's own excitement. ]

What's under the hood of this pea-shooter?

[ She wants to know, wants to its inner workings and let her mind wrap round it, happily distracted for a little while before this too became mundane. It all did, eventually. ]

[polyphonos]

[Aren't they just two recursive peas in a pod? The buzz of Cathaway's attentions, her affections, flex under the activity of the girl's mind and revels in the mutual energy. She's felt tired for so long, the drag of reality picking at the edge of her brain, but this? This is pleasant work.

She buckles herself into her own harness, sweeping the sheet of her grey hair back.]

A pryiak drive core coupled with the Atraxan propulsion model - a big kit for a ship this size.

[Delightful, she thinks and then the circle platform shifts, beginning it's corkscrew descent into the Station's launch tube. The hole in the deck above them, visible through the semi transparent viewscreen of the cockpit's bubble, slides closed above them. For a moment they're cast into perfect darkness, lot only by the ship's glittering instrument panel as the Station carries them down into its guts.]

[sistershoggoth]

[ Childlike in her curiosity, she shifts in her seat, almost as if boneless to press the restraints to their limits, looking at things, looking at Cathaway. Her curiosity about the other woman is not hidden. Looks human, doesn't quite act it. Not the same kind of jittery unease as the Crafters, but instead an unnatural serene. Was that what would happen? Annie doubts it, doubts she'll ever feel that way in her entire life, at least not in this body. These thoughts whirr in the background, but she has enough other things to keep her amused, ]

Are those makers or models? All your shit's a million years ahead of Earth.

[ Helka would love it. Helka's been dead for years. Annie stomp stomp stomps on that hint of emotion, like crushing a spider. ]

When do I get to fly it?

[ As if that's inevitable. ]

[polyphonos]

Pryiak is a method of processing dark matter into stored energy and Atraxan is a manufacturer. So a little of both. They're not technically meant to be used together - the tech comes from two different universes but-- [Cathaway turns toward Annie, grey eyes glinting with an unnatural light and a slip of a grin manifesting on her thin face] --well, they're appealing in combination. As for when you get to fly it, we suggest beginning with the medium transports or slip ships. We'd be happy to give you lessons once you've returned to the Station.

[The corkscrew descend slows, then the platform snaps into place without a sound. They've come to rest in some kind of tube, long enough that the far end isn't clearly visible. Thunck. The silver ship shudders as something latches into its undercarriage. At Cathaway's touch, the growl of the engines begins to flare.]

Launch in three, two, one-- [And whatever has hooked into the ship slingshots them forward. The ship hurtles forward as a rocket. The launch tube becomes a sickening blur. The ship passing through it makes a sound like a scream. The vibration passes through his fingers and toes and the shell of the craft, to the buckles of the harnesses and the nauseating leap of bellies.

The ship punches into black space and abruptly rolls to avoid a brilliant red shuttle directly in their launch trajectory. The stars spin overhead and the engines roar, the silver ship spiraling wildly through the assembled circus above Waypoint Shril. It's wonderful and Cathaway is delighted.]

[sistershoggoth]

[ There had been some very fancy vehicles housed in the bowels of the Academy, but nothing like this. Sparrows'd had enough sense to stock the Academy to a degree which correlated to its technology, even if that had been some high grade military tech. Not that any of that mattered now, the aircrafts and other vehicles hadn't been on the list of things Diana had reconstructed. All she'd cared about was having her pretty house and her pretty mother to show off to the neighbors.

Annie hates thinking about that smug half-breed bitch. Hates thinking about Fallon too, and the look of withered despair in the woman's eyes. And yet, the remembrances play themselves out, a screw tightening in one of corner of her thoughts. Elsewhere in her mind, open and fluid, she remembers being taught to pilot. She'd done it well, like she did everything well, but she had taken more pleasure in it than, say, Calculus. From yet another direction, she wonders which universe the Crafters had come from, and if she could use a little dart ship such as this to fly right into one of their arrogant monstrous brains and pluck it apart synapse by synapse.

And, there, all the way in the back of her deep cavern, voices growl and moan, wanting to know what she's doing out there in space, and wondering if she is coming Home. Home, are you-- Coming? Coming home?

But then they're in tremendous motion, her body pressed back into the seat only to then float for an instant as momentum realigns itself, the world spinning. Annie squeals like a child on a rollercoaster. Her mind blissfully silent. Adrenaline always was good for silencing the many squeaking gears in her mind, but as the moment passes it leaves a bitter taste. A desire to keep it going just a bit longer, to keep buzzing, keep speeding through space. Her body beats with it, and she slouches back, staring at the interior paneling about her head, neck arched back. ]

Where are we going anyway?

a

[somnifacient]

[That's reassuring, Noctis thinks to himself, too new to know (or care) if he's projecting. Still, he concedes, checking that he's strapped in tightly. The Lucian king is no stranger to vehicles, even vehicles that turned into aircrafts, but something told him that this was going to be decidedly different than anything he's experienced before.

Anxiety threatens to rise within him, but he pushes it back down. Sets his jaw and breathes. Indulges himself in a second or two (or ten) of silence, letting the hum of the engines fill his ears.

Then:] You don't seem very "intimidated".

[polyphonos]

We have practice.

[It's an easy, automatic assertion - said so offhand that it must be the truth for any multitude of things, surely. Cathaway drums her fingers through a last pre-flight sequence and then the hum of the engines modulates and the circular platform on which the ship sits shifts below them to begin a slow descent through the hangar's floor.

The darkness below swallows them, the hangar floor twisting closed overhead.]

Now, how are you feeling?

[somnifacient]

[It isn’t so much a lurch as it is a slow descent, but even that is enough to make his insides feel… dizzy, for a brief moment. Noctis swallows, keeping his gaze steady. He’s more than cognizant of the darkness all around him, threatening to twist and prod at that anxiety he had contained just moments before.

Out of habit, he straightens his shoulders, presses his back into his seat. Wills up a fragment of quiet indignation at the question to replace the uncertainty.]

Are you kidding with that question right now?

[She (they? She keeps using “we”) didn’t seem to be joking, but it’s hard not to scoff.]

Take a guess.

[Being pulled from Eos, on the knife-edge of a sacrifice, now lost, confused, and flirting with irritation, trying to ignore the cold grip of the dark around him as he speaks. He supposes, if he’s anything, it’s tired.]

[polyphonos]

Uncertain. Exhausted. Waiting for the moment when things will begin to make sense again. [There's something rhythmic about the cant of her voice, the roll of her syllables in the cramped ship as it twists slowly downward.] But you're whole and alive. Is it a novel concept?

[The ship rotates down into the Station's launch tube, halting with a sigh too soft to be heard over the grumble of it's engines. Something starts, latching to the underside of the craft with a heavy clack.]

Brace yourself.

[With a jerk, the hook drags the ship forward. Fires it forward like a bullet from a gun.]

[somnifacient]

[A novel concept? He supposes it is — novel, but it settles wrong in him. Cathaway is right in the rest of her assessment, too. It’s almost too on the nose, enough to bother Noct, to unsettle him in a way he can’t quite enunciate.

Not that it matters. Because when the ship pitches forward with impossible momentum, pressing him back into his seat, making his insides feel simultaneously light and dizzying, the only phrase that filters loudly through his head is:

Holy shit.

Hands grip at his knees, tight, tense. Adrenaline spikes, not unlike the kind he feels before a battle. An unwanted sensation of… giddiness and apprehension fight for control, with neither winning.

He’s just gonna squeeze his eyes shut for this part, okay.]

a

[futurewitness]

[ Lucina's not at all sure what she's looking at. It's nothing like any building she's seen, and inside it's so cramped there doesn't seem to be room to do anything but sit (barely), and the controls up front are so far out of her experience she doesn't even know what to make of them, and then the sound -

She whirls around as the engines purr, trying and failing to pinpoint where it's coming from (everywhere, apparently), and bumps her head on a low-hanging compartment in the process. ]

- ah!

[ That was embarrassing.

But despite how completely foreign this is, it feels oddly familiar - or maybe it's just that it's familiar to everyone else here, but it's enough for her to hazard a guess, at least: ]

This - this flies?

[polyphonos]

[Cathaway's hands don't pause in their seemingly automated adjustment of the ship's controls, however she does raise her eyes and look back toward the hollow sound of Lucina's head connecting with the compartment.]

It does. [Very quickly.] Any other questions --Mind yourself dear, make sure to get those harness buckles the right way around.

[Click, click, click, the controls of the ship flicker pleasantly under the tap of her fingers.]

[futurewitness]

[ She sits, and starts fumbling with the harness. It only takes a few seconds for her to get it all turned the right way around and turn her attention back to the conversation. ]

...far too many, I'm afraid.

[ She has so many questions. And the first question is probably about which questions she should even ask first. ]

[polyphonos]

That's fairly typical.

[It's a purposefully gentle assertion, meant to be reassuring. This is normal. Questions are to be expected. There's nothing wrong with having them or not knowing what's going on. This is all perfectly, completely average.

Obviously.

And then the ship shifts with a small, muted vibration, and the disk on which it's parked begins to descend into the floor of the hangar. A moment later, the ship is swallowed by darkness as it passes between decks to the Station's launch tube.]

But if you think of something particularly pressing, please don't hesitate to ask us. We're here to help you.

[Ka-THUNK goes something metallic hooking into the base of the ship.]

[futurewitness]

[ Her eyes are glued to the viewport as they start moving - but then that thunk has her looking around with a start, around and up and down. It came from below, didn't it? ]

What was that?

[ That is definitely pressing. ]

another a........................

[lavelly]

[He's still twitchy. He blinks at her like he might against the sun, as if that can clear away the sensations that shouldn't accompany the sound of her voice and yet do.

He's going to hate this... everything, isn't he.]

Launch? [He manages to sound more casual than he feels. Unfortunately, that won't cut it here.] That doesn't sound very reassuring.

yes good

[polyphonos]

[Luckily, one of them is feeling more than comfortable enough for the both of them. Her mind is a bright, sparkling presence at the edge of his - pleasantly warm and delightfully sharp as she brings the ship's engines online and modulates their intake down to an idling hiss.]

We promise to make your trip as smooth as is possible, of course. However, [there's a sly tilt to her tone - it sounds like how an eyebrow being arched looks] The space around the Station is crowded right now, so forgive us any necessary evasive maneuvers.

[Clunk. The sound of something shifting, then the ship begins a corkscrew descent through the floor of the hangar bay. A moment later, the ceiling closes above them and they're swallowed in darkness as the ship is rotated down into the Station's launch tube. There's a pervasive hum in the air vibrating out from under the too loud mental noise.]

Are you unfamiliar with technology like this?

[lavelly]

["Evasive maneuvers." That just sounds lovely.

Lavellan looks around them at the cabin dubiously, only to tense and grip the nearest handhold for dear life at the first sign of motion. Considering he only has the one hand, he doesn't succeed in feeling very secure, but definitely not for trying.

He doesn't say anything again until after the vessel has more or less stabilized. It's not much more than a little nervous laugh, his knuckles still white with tension.]

You could say that.

[polyphonos]

[There's a solid thunk! as something unseen latches onto the underside of the craft, followed by a honing of the ship's vibrations as the engines spool sharper and higher.]

Don't worry. Familiarity will come naturally. Close your mouth, please.

[That last part is a kind warning. Then the ship is slingshot forward at such speed that it throws Cathaway back into the pilot's seat. It's like bolt fired from a bow. A crack of lighting cutting across an open sky. The ship punches out into space at such velocity that it might be nauseating if not for the high, brilliant sensations of joy pouring off its pilot.]

[lavelly]

[Lavellan can't suppress an audible gasp of fear as the ship takes off, and for several moments he's actually convinced he's going to die. He never knew it was possible for anything to move so fast, let alone something with him in it. And yet seconds go by and nothing happens, aside from the speed.

Very, very gradually he comes out of his statue-still shock, and looks around the compartment again with a renewed sense of wonder and fear.]

How... how is this possible?

b

[earthborn]

Well, look's like you're gonna make it after all.

[This addressed in a matter of fact tone. Elbow room is in short supply around here, and Shepard's not going to let the fact that she's fully immune to Cathaway's personal bubble go to waste.]

You got time for a snack, or is this pure sight-seeing for you?

[polyphonos]

Thank you for the concern.

[It's a breezy sort of gratitude, isn't it? For a moment her attention remains pinned on the ships jockeying around the edge of Platform Alfa, but only just for a second. Then Cathaway steps down from the concrete bench with a chime of the metal at her wrists and waist.]

We have ten minutes before our parking slot expires. It might be possible to get something in that time.

[Universe forbid she get a ticket.]

[earthborn]

What, a couple of a space-divas like us? We'll just sweet-talk our way to the front of the line, no problem.

[Shepard offers Cathaway an arm to proceed upon, in a mocking excess of politeness, and they're off. The nearest decent place turns out to be a sanwich shop, at the moment. Or, at least, they serve meat and vegetable matter, on a fluffy, bread-like substance. It's purple, sure, and awfully grainy, but it's bread....ish. Listen, it's a free lunch, Cathaway, don't complain.]

So, you don't get out much. Is that right?

[polyphonos]

[Cathaway takes Shepard's arm without any hesitation, without any acknowledgement of that fact that it's pointedly over the top. Her palm is warm, the fine golden chain looped around her center finger and wrapped around her wrist sharply cool in contrast.

Her? Complain? Never.]

Exactly right. One of our jobs is to maintain the Station. We can't very well do that from a different multiverse. Sometimes it's possible for us to step away for short periods of time, but usually we avoid it. But this is different. [She tips her face up, throwing a glance into the darkness of space surrounding the platform. The Station is impossible to miss: a freakishly pale beehive structure in the middle of the buzzing nest of ships overhead.] We can see it from here.

[Is that sarcasm? Sounds like it. Feels like it.]