[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

[somnifacient]

I. AWAKENING (closed to new hosts)

[The tube disconnects, and suddenly his awakening is far less pleasant.

A barrier breaks, and Noctis hears and feels too much. Voices that aren’t his (but they feel as if they belong to him regardless), emotions that reverberate at the edges of everything that he is, every atom in his body, digging deep into his bones. He sits up, grimacing, eyes squeezed shut. Everything… why was everything so loud?

It takes a minute to adjust, if it can even be called that. Confusion comes to him in a wave, drowning out all cognizant thought, and it’s only in the most automatic way does he begin to take in his surroundings. That he tries to understand what’s happened, why he’s been brought here. In the end, it’s a futile effort, and only the voice in his head beckoning him to visit the hangar gives him any real direction.

And so, eventually, he does. (He’s ignored the white courtesy clothing, as if hilariously suspicious of it, opting only for the clothes on his back. Black attire, dirtied with battle.) His feet move him, somehow, and he walks; he takes comfort in the mental buzz around him seeming to distance itself with each step. Prevalent, distracting, but not loud.

Until he runs into another, and the voices (voice?) press louder into him again. Another new arrival, though Noctis wouldn’t know old host from new, not right now, not when everything is both fresh and disorienting in his mind.]

What the hell’s going on here?

[It seems like a reasonable thing to ask, doesn’t it?]

II. PLATFORM ALPHA (ota)

OPTION A

[More noise, this time audible, instead of ringing in his mind.

The first thing Noctis does upon arrival to Platform Alpha is try to disconnect from the throng of the crowd, trying to find a space where alien creatures, alien individuals would not brush against him at every turn. A moment to breathe, to mull over this transition — a moment to feel angry or lost or sad or anything other than confused.

A moment is all he needs, to focus within himself, to draw out even a small modicum of inner strength to snap him back to reality. Just a moment, that’s all.

Weaving in and out through the crowd (a crowd that he always seems to be walking against, it’s like trying to swim against the current; was this a queue for something?), he wonders if others were supposed to meet him here—

Something, someone slams into his shoulder. An alien, twice his size, a hundred times more irritable than Noct could ever hope to be. Noctis stumbles back, and looks up at it; it’s a terrible-looking alien, more centipede than humanoid, and he gives it a look of surprised disgust before he can stop himself.

The alien screeches something at him. (In a language that Noctis can’t hope to understand without using the translator, much less realize that this is also a very drunk alien, irritable from standing in line for what seems to be hours.)]

Sorry. [He manages, not exactly sure how to approach this situation. His brow is furrowed, lending to the notion that it was an automatic response, more than a sincere one. And that’s hardly good enough for Mr. Alien, who rises up on its many legs, looming over Noctis in a way that’s not exactly friendly.]

OPTION B

[If no one steps in, Noctis will move on instinct alone. An extended hand, and the atmosphere seems to twist slightly around him, before a sword (an odd-looking one) literally materializes in his hand out of nothing more than shattered, crystalline light.

By the Six, does he hate bugs.

That seems to be enough to entice the crowd around him to give him space, if only a small amount. They’ve all probably seen worse.]

Back off.

[Defuse this tragedy about to happen? Make things worse? Popcorn.gif?]

WILDCARD

[lbr, it won’t take him long to get completely and irrevocably lost on Waypoint Shril. So feel free to stumble upon him anywhere.]

wildcard

[adamance]

[Noctis' mind is a distant one, at first, because she only brushes up against it purely on accident. She knows that there are newcomers—how could she not? she's familiar with the sensation by now—but the business of planning and preparing for the tournament has largely taken her attention. It's as she's securing information about some of the competitors that he passes behind her, mind confused and weary from ... being lost.

It's such a simple sensation that she focuses on him, and as she finishes her dealings, she steps a way to follow him.

Lexa knows that someone new like him would likely be happier with her using her voice, but some part of her wants to see how he'll respond to different prodding.]

( Did you truly believe it was a good idea to venture out alone like this? )

[somnifacient]

[His confusion intermingles with someone... familiar, it feels like, except he knows that it can't possibly be. Still, it's something to anchor to, and Noctis -- in his newness to the Nest -- lacks the tact to do so without much hesitation. So Lexa will likely feel the brush of his mind against hers, a quiet leaning in to borrow a modicum of that stability, even as Noctis continues to walk, his path leading nowhere.

A sensation that retracts almost immediately when he hears the voice in his head, crystal clear over the ruckus of the crowd surrounding them. He stops, frowns. Turns to look.]

You- [Of course he doesn't answer with his mind. He's not in the habit of it, and it still remains a very questionable notion to him thus far.]

I didn't mean to. [To get lost. To get swept away in the tide of a crowd.]

[adamance]

There was a risk in it just the same. [She at least pays him the respect in responding with her voice, rather than her mind. The other practice will come more readily to him, almost by necessity. Lexa decides that she's not going to be the one to teach him on the streets.]

Especially since you're no longer the man you were before. Whether you realize that or not is up to you.

[somnifacient]

[Sarcasm threatens to eke out, a consequence of minor irritation — not necessarily directed at Lexa, but rather the situation in general. To be ripped from home and tossed into space was one thing, to have exceedingly important things left to do was another altogether.

(Noct had been given the brief on the way over, of course. The sticking point had been that return was impossible for now, and needless to say this settled badly within him.)

Now to be told that he’s not the man he was before, as if he couldn’t tell that with the voices mixing in his head, with the way he could feel his connection to the Crystal wane, his own magic several degrees less poignant as it had been before-

All right, a little sarcasm is allowed, surely.]

Really? Which part are you referring to? The part where I’ve been hearing voices since I got here, or that my magic is just half of what it was before?

[To his credit, Noct at least keeps irritation mostly at bay, not wanting to direct it to her, as he's still trying to keep himself anchored to Lexa's steadiness. Peering into his mind, however, reveals discontent swirling like a ghost in the background.]

Or maybe part where I can't go home.

[adamance]

None of us can return home. But you are still the man who left your people. That part of us doesn't change. [For some, it had been a relief to leave. Lexa remembers her discomfort in realizing that Angel had taken no issue with leaving home, and had been willing to adjust and adapt to a new lifestyle. Some part of Lexa knows that her words can serve as a contradiction, but everyone's cultures remain. It would be a long, hard slog to erase it.]

Being there or not being there doesn't matter. The rest does. I haven't heard of weakened abilities, though I'm not surprised. [It would make sense. She hasn't asked much. And some men, like Kylo Ren, seemed far more than capable of using their talents with ease.

Perhaps this was a man more powerful than him. Interesting.]

Those are the parts that you'll want to adjust to without the calamity of what surrounds you. But you seem determined to find it.

[Lexa knows that she is both contradictory and condescending, but his sarcasm spikes that inside of her. She wants to pull him in several directions to see how he might react to say she says, all to get a measure of who he is.]

II B

[wrackful]

[At the edge of the circle that's just expanded in the crowd around Noctis, Murphy gives a long, impressed whistle, and starts to slowly clap.]

Nice trick.

[His voice sounds like it's more given to derision, but in the moment, the sentiment's genuine. Pulling a sword out of thin air wasn't something to shrug at. It's also the best open reaction to give to throw a stone in the cogs of what had been about to escalate: the 7ft bug seems confused, and some of the crowd who had paused to watch start to lose interest, slipping back away into the flow of people.

Murphy seals it further by stepping forward, gesturing towards the sword.]

How much? Seriously, name your price, I know some people who'd love to take something like that off your hands.

[Of course, he knows no such people. But a fight was a scene; someone haggling for a sale was commonplace enough to be no interest whatsoever.]

or not II B

[somnifacient]

[That's all it takes, it would seem. A spike of confusion thrown into an escalating situation, enough to dispense crowd and tension alike. Noctis, the very image of grace and poise, blinks in confusion, opens his mouth to say something-

The alien, in all its creepy bug-like mannerisms, makes another unintelligible noise. A dismissive sound, before it decides that whatever is going on now isn't worth its time. It scuffles off, returning to its place in the queue. (Which, admittedly, hasn't moved up much at all.)

Noct's eyes flicker from the alien to the newcomer. His attention is so haphazardly ripped from one to the other that it can probably be felt reverberating through their mental link -- a link that Noctis feels quite clearly with sudden proximity.

That doesn't make the notion any less confusing, though.]

It's not... [He straightens, frowning. The sword in question disappears from his grasp, in the same manner that it appeared.] Not for sale.

[wrackful]

Yeah, I know. [There's almost a shrug in his tone, the impression of his mental attitude. He's watching the alien return to what it was doing, making sure the problem's not going to be a problem again before his attention comes back to Noctis.]

Probably be useless even if it was, right? It's you doing the whole [He makes a loose circling gesture with one hand.] appearing disappearing thing. [A beat, curls of dry amusement.] I'd ask, but I don't think I want to know where it goes.

[He turns half a step.]

Come on, we should get out of here before you piss anyone else off.

[somnifacient]

[Noctis decides to mentally wave away the comment about the disappearing sword and where it might go. Maybe it's something to address later, if the question comes up again, but this fellow host hardly seemed brimming with curiosity — if anything, Murphy seems flippant. It’s no skin off of Noct’s back.

He’ll follow, then, a step or two behind him.]

Doesn’t seem to take very much around here.

[Implying that he wasn’t exactly looking for trouble, but trouble came looking for him instead. (A theme as of late, it feels like.)]

[wrackful]

Caught that, huh?

[Half sarcastic, but good humoured as he continues leading the way through the crowd. At least the guy wasn't naive enough to think the fight he'd almost ended up in was a unique occurrence.]

You'll get used to it. [He'd have to, but Murphy's not been feeling so inclined to the doom-saying recently. He glances back over his shoulder.] Unless you're from a place where that sword's seriously just for show.

awakening

[sistershoggoth]

[ The woman, small enough to easily be mistake for a teenager, turns and looks at him over her shoulder. She has long platinum dyed hair, spilling over too much exposed olive-colored skin. The look on her face is halfway between bored and bemused. The calm incredulity she presents him is at odds with the aura she presents. A profound sense of empty space and dark, dire secrets creeping ever closer... ]

Abducted by aliens, the fuck does it look like?

[ She snorts crassly, motioning around them at the sterile interior of the Station and all its fucked up accoutrement. ]

[somnifacient]

[Noctis finds himself hesitating before responding. It's not the woman's crass reply that does it to him, though (no, that's barely enough to offend him in such a confused state), but a feeling of something... unfathomable. Deep, lingering, disturbing. Like standing on the edge of a vast, bottomless pool.

His fingers flex, jaw setting. Suddenly, the Lucian king feels uncertain when he had felt merely addled (and tired, so tired) before. She can probably feel all of this in return, of course. But he doesn't stand in silence long, and eventually a reply finds its way past his lips.

It's a little wry.]

Yeah, because that's a great explanation.

[Even though, to be fair... probably accurate, all things considered.]

[sistershoggoth]

It's a fucking great explanation, a fucking truthful one too, so don't give me that snooty ass look.

[ She flaps a hand, like flapping away a fly. Her movements are all very easy and fluid, what she says moves through her whole body, as if her mind doesn't bother to delineate the different pieces by separating hands from mouth from posture. But it does.

She is acutely aware of her body as a cage, and she a festering thing inside it. ]

They've already completed their tests on us, and now we've got free reign to fuck around. I bet the fuckin' doors got bio-sigs, we won't be able to get in anywhere we're not supposed to.

[ A bet, and not entirely right, but she speaks with a kind of authority on alien abduction. Technically, she was abducted by an alien at birth. And then raised by it. So. ]

What else do you need explained?

[somnifacient]

[(Snooty ass look? He wasn't giving her a snooty ass look, he thinks, even as his face twists into a frown just to contradict himself.)

Noctis' body language is the opposite of hers. His feet are firmly planted to the ground, the line of his back straight, his shoulders even more so. The only gesture his hands make are the way his arms cross against his chest, betraying his uncertainty, that spike of indignation that threatens to turn into annoyance at the way she sounds so... patronizing.

To his credit, Noctis has at least mastered the art of outward composure to not let it show. (Letting her feel it, though, is another matter altogether.)]

How about you explain just how you know all of this? [He pauses, but not long enough to let her respond just yet.] I heard a voice in my head to go to the hangar... I've been hearing whispers ever since I woke up. And you, you feel like-

[He loses his words, unable to form them in a way he finds satisfactory. And when he does speak again, he still finds them wanting.] You're too close. That is you, right? [Mentally he means. That disturbing sense of something nearby.]

[sistershoggoth]

How... how do I know?

[ She repeats incredulously. Rude mouth curling, but her tone does not match her insides. She sounds condescending, but it's just words. She doesn't care an awful lot about words, sticks and stones. She doesn't care an awful lot about people, at least not as themselves. She cares about certain people as ideas. Her students are an idea: a penance, a future. Noctis has the misfortune to not need anything from her. He is capable of himself, and thus she is dismissive. Years of actively misandric doctrine don't help. She'd been raised that men were weak, slow, cowardly, and basically useless, to be dismissed from service and to allow more capable soldiers do the job. ]

You have that fucking port in your neck before you woke up? Didn't think so. They fitted you with that, special, to hook you up to their fucking pods. And if you think that's all they did to you. [ A wide, expansive shrug. ] That'd be fuckin' naive, is all I'm saying.

And there is sure as shit some telepathic fuckery going on.

[ There is indeed, the longer she talks to more uncomfortable her attention is. Like she could swallow him whole at any moment. It's not quite a warning when he notes she's too close, and it doesn't put off her mind getting closer. She's listening to him, but for whatever lives inside of her... it's not enough to just listen to something. Everything is hers, enveloping. ]

Haven't found what's-her-bitch yet though, I figure she'd give a shout if I was goin' the wrong way.

2a

[shiro2hero]

Whoa! Take it easy!

[He was one of those people just passing by, when the brush of someone else's mind hit his. That feeling of another person with a symbiote in their head. So of course, he's going to stop.]

[And when he sees the problem, of course he's going to try and intervene. Holding up both hands, looking between human and alien.]

Accident. All right? Let's just go our separate ways here. No one wants a fight.

[So says the armored man attempting to project calm, and composure.]

[somnifacient]

[It's jarring, the sudden appearance of someone like him. Someone he could reach out and touch with his mind, if Noctis ever felt so inclined. He's not used to the sensation, and while curiosity pulls him in one direction, caution yanks him in the other. The latter wins out, and Shiro can probably feel Noctis trying to retract his thoughts, as if being mentally startled away.

The alien looks down at the armored newcomer, making a few noises in only what can be described as irritated-sounding. But apparently not angry enough to pick a fight with two bipeds, and so with another glance at Noct, one more hissing noise, the creature turns away and returns to its spot in line.

Noctis had been unknowingly holding his breath, and exhales long and with exasperation. The line of his shoulders relax, allowing the smallest amount of tension to release.

He looks at Shiro.] Thanks... for that.

[shiro2hero]

[If it helps anything, he's snapped his own mental walls into place fairly quickly. In order to keep his own thoughts under control. And to keep any bleedover to a minimum. It helped him when he first got here.]

[He keeps his place between them, until it's certain the alien is backing down. Heading off on their way. Only then does he turn to face the newcomer, nodding to him.]

[From his mind, there's not much more than a whisper of stars. Of galaxies. No thoughts. Just the imagery.]

No problem. Those guys aren't anything close to friendly. [A pause, and he extends a hand.] Shiro.

[somnifacient]

[It does help, allowing Noctis enough figurative breathing space to gather his thoughts up properly. To steady himself in the face of everything unknown around him, friendly faces and hostile aliens alike. He tries to keep his own emotions within him, and years of outward practice at least translates into partial success internally.

(Stars, though. He sees them flickering in the distance with this man; just faint imagery, but Noctis indulges himself in it. It's calming, like the shine of crystals, refracted light glinting all around. His own imagery thrumming quietly, projecting softly.)]

Yeah, I could see that. [An equal pause, then Noctis does what's only polite and shakes Shiro's hand.] I'm Noctis. And I'm- [New and hopelessly confused, lost in the connection of too many minds.] -still trying to wrap my head around all of this.

[shiro2hero]

Watch out for the short ones, too. They like to put their hands where they don't belong.

[A gesture with his free hand indicates his general... pocket area. So hopefully the message comes across without him actually explaining, or sending a mental image of the event. Because that might not go over terribly well, with someone so new to this place.]

[At least the sense of stars is going over fairly well.]

[His expression turns sympathetic, though, at that last part. He nods.] I know the feeling. Most of us do.

Or did.

iia.

[blooded]

( damon got the news just like everyone else — hard not to, when it's broadcast into his brain — but he's remained pretty chill about it, interested more in going about the "shopping" he'd decided to conduct today than the prospect of new hosts. by the time he makes it to platform alfa, it's been a while since the newbies touched down. he's half expecting them all to be gone by the time he shows up, but he knows instantly that at least one is still here. he can ~feel it~. ugh.

the altercation with the centipede alien draws his attention just as much as noctis himself does, and damon makes his way over to noctis' side without any urgency. )

You're going to back off, ( he tells the alien, his voice dripping both with threat and with the magical influence of his compulsion. he'd been worried, at first, that it wouldn't work on the aliens here — whatever magic had created vampires could hardly have accounted for trips to fucking outer space — but the power's held up, and he's already snagged himself a nice hotel suite and some new clothes. the language barrier hardly seems to be an issue with simple commands — the centipede looming over noctis does retreat, clicking its mandibles in confusion and frustration as it does. damon watches as it moves away from them, then turns back to noctis, appraising him silently. after a moment he nods, and holds out the bag he was carrying. )

Hold this and come with me.

[somnifacient]

[He was just about to call forth his Engine Blade — he could feel his magic already pinpricking at his skin, fingers curling in a pre-emptive motion to grasp at the blade — when another chimes in. The brushing of minds, a sensation that’s just enough distraction to stop summoning the weapon.

For a moment he thinks that this new presence will just irritate the alien further, but after something that sounds like a command is given (You’re going to back off), the giant centipede (still gross) seems confused. Then compliant. It turns away and leaves.

Noct’s attention draws itself towards the newcomer, too surprised to feel relief just yet. No time to, apparently; suddenly he has a bag held out to him, and is being told to follow.

He takes it… awkwardly.]

What?

[Eloquent.]

[blooded]

Has no one clued you in yet?

( oh, damon should not be this guy's welcome party. he's disinclined to be helpful at the best of times, and having been in this situation himself not too long ago has done nothing to make him any more sympathetic to the new hosts. a mischievous grin starts spreading over his face.

after taking a moment to ensure his own shields are up and able to withstand the onslaught of a new host, damon slips through the link and into noctis' head — he's not doing anything hurtful, precisely, but it's... uncomfortable. damon makes sure it is, because he's a jerk. )

Welcome to the nest, we're going shopping.

[somnifacient]

[That depends on Damon's definition of being "clued in". He had been given the mission brief, of course, and the general gist of what's happened since he had woken up -- but it was all very fast, and Noct was in such a confused, tired state that it's still difficult to look at this entire situation as anything more than a mass hallucination brought on by a fever dream.

Still, he's grounded enough to know that definitely isn't the case, and certainly observant enough to not miss that mischievous grin on the newcomer's face. It doesn't bode well, and he's right to think so -- suddenly, he feels him creeping through his mind, unasked for, unwanted. Noct frowns, unsure how to retract. He certainly tries to, and Damon might be met with resistance in the form of... imagery. A shimmering crystal wall coming up to obscure anything that he might be trying to garner from him.

Being as new as he is, it only halfway works.]

Stop that. [-he says, even as he follows. Even as a flicker of confusion regarding shopping runs through him.] And why do we need to go shopping? I'm not here to carry your bags around.

[How did it go from staring down an alien centipede to this?]