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[hatch log] welcome to the void-- wait no, waypoint shril
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!))
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?
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--
--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!))
no subject
[Oh. Oh, he gets it. His eyes widen a fraction. It's hard to try and scale back his mental shielding. But maybe just... pull it in closer? Does that work?]
[He actually shakes his head, holding up his hands, while he tries his best to do that. It's not something he exactly has experience with.]
I'm sorry. I didn't realize.
[But hey, at least the apology is sincere.] But thanks. Are you okay?
no subject
He hopes that's not having the same effect on Shiro that Shiro's had on him. Lavellan does look at him a little incredulously, though.]
Honestly, not really. How do you--is this normal for you?
no subject
[There's literally nothing else he can do for this poor guy. He doesn't have the skill or training or ability to shut his thoughts out completely. Maybe none of them do.]
[At least he can stay calm, though, thanks to his mental shielding.]
no subject
No, I'd rather have the-- [He swallows.] The stars.
[A wave of exhaustion pours out of him, suddenly.]
Sorry, I'm not very pleasant company at the moment. None of this makes any sense to me.
no subject
[In terms of mental shields, anyway. He was going to say something else, but that fatigue, that exhaustion -- which feels incredibly familiar -- brushes his shielding.]
[He holds a hand out, intending to steady the other.]
Hey, it's okay. No one's asking you to be. Do you need to lie down? Sit down?
no subject
He waves off Shiro's arm, as casually as he can manage.]
No, thank you. I was just overwhelmed for a moment. I'll be fine.
[A change of subject will keep Shiro from pursuing it, hopefully.]
You must have been here quite a while already. Or am I just lucky for getting the world's worst hangover?
no subject
[He looks at him for a long moment, but, in the end, lets it go. If only because the new guy here is talking to the absolute King of "I'm Fine" lies. Maybe there's a reason for it. But...]
It's overwhelming. Getting here, and feeling all the thoughts in your head.
You're not the only one to feel that way.
no subject
(Yes, that's why no one else is lurking in corners, trying not to vomit.)
[Yeah, it's gonna take a while before he stops sending on accident.]
I appreciate your checking in, then, but it's not necessary. I'll adjust.
no subject
[Sorry, Lava Land, he'll answer that, aloud.]
I almost punched someone when I got here.
It's all right.
no subject
I did it again, didn't I.
no subject
It get easier.
no subject
Thanks.
[He clears his throat.]
Ah. [And he extends his hand. To shake, maybe.] Lavellan.
no subject
It's no problem. [He hesitates for a second, before remembering he's armored. And no one can tell he has one metal hand under the armor. Then reaches out to shake that hand.] Shiro.
no subject
Lavellan pauses for a moment. Suddenly he feels bad for being dismissive.]
Really, thank you. I'm... not used to needing help.
no subject
[It's okay Lavellan, you can have his robot arm if you want it's terrible.]
But there are people here who want to help make things easier.
no subject
[Because he really hadn't found her all that helpful.]
no subject
[More like the people who had helped him, specifically. Even if some of them weren't here anymore.]
no subject
Enlighten me.
no subject
[But given how the poor guy reacted to the walls themselves? Probably a bad idea.]
There's a woman named Lexa, disciplined, tough, but as long as you're direct with her, she's one of the better teachers. There's a man called The Darkling, who... probably isn't the best place to start. He's good, but overwhelming.
And Sam Wilson -- [Who he can't mention without a mental flood of affection, of warmth, that mostly stays contained, though some leaks out, regardles.] -- he's helped me most. Because we're a lot alike, in some respects.
no subject
He doesn't react as badly as he might have even half an hour ago. But he still instinctively grabs Shiro's shoulder to steady himself.]
I'll... [Give him a moment.] I'll make sure to seek them out.
[Even as he staggers he manages, dimly, to file away the information he's been sent. Mostly that Sam seems to be his own particular category, to Shiro. Could be useful, could be not, but there it is.]
no subject
[He's putting his own arm out in response, to brace the other man. Just in case. It can't hurt anything.]
[Besides, if Lavellan passes out, he's fairly sure he could carry him.]
You don't have to jump in right away. If you need to pace yourself, no one's going to get on your case.
no subject
Baby steps, however. He latches onto the first thread of conversation he can think of, to cover up his own unsteadiness.]
That last man you showed me. Sam Wilson, you said? You seem... fond of him.
no subject
[Unfortunately, what helps cover Lavellan's unease only makes him flustered. And makes pink flood his cheekbones, under the corners of his scar.]
That uh.
That... got out?
no subject
I'm afraid it did. I didn't just intrude on something personal, did I?
no subject
Not... really.
Privacy sort of stops existing here, after a while.
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done
sheds a single tear
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