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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!))
alfa
He exits not too far behind Lucina, and is absolutely stunned by the amount of people (aliens? creatures?) that swarmed around them. He's turning his head, furrowing his brow, trying to take it all in, when-
oops. He bumps into her. What grace.]
Sorry. You all right?
[The moment the words leave his mouth, he thinks it's a dumb question. But, well, there it is.]
no subject
Yes.
[ She's not feeling particularly all right, but the response is practically automatic. It doesn't matter if she's okay or not. She needs to be, so as far as anyone else is concerned, she is, and that's that.
Even if she's fairly sure that lying to this crowd is going to be a lot harder than her usual audience. ]
The fault is mine, I'm sorry. I chose a poor place to stop.
no subject
That rings rather familiar to him.]
I don't think there's a good place to stop. I feel like one wrong move and we're going to get toppled over by a mass of people heading in the opposite direction.
Or... aliens, I guess.
no subject
[ One in a long list of terms she's going to have to get used to, apparently. It feels odd coming off her tongue. People who aren't human is simple enough, but people from a different planet is something else entirely. ]
Had you ever heard the term before today?
[ Please tell her she's not the only one who had to smile and nod through half of the answers to those questions? ]
no subject
Yeah. But it's usually restricted to books, or video games.
[You know what those are... right, Lucina?]
Never had the pleasure of seeing them in person.
no subject
...I don't know what a "video game" is. How is that different from any other game?
[ Because games are like...hide and seek? Chess if you want to get fancy? help ]
no subject
Uh, you know... a game on a television screen. Or any kind of screen. With light.
[noct explains things gud
This is awkward. He's trying to think of the best way to say it, without relying too much on words she may not understand. His mind flickers back to his own experiences; planted squarely in front of a large screen, controller in hand. Leveling up, side quests, cutscenes. A story (that he sometimes didn't pay attention to). That all feels like a lifetime ago.
He might also be unknowingly projecting this directly to her, since he has no control over his own mental barriers at the moment.]
no subject
And then she gets the - image? impression? - of a...moving picture? But it can't just be a mirror, the image is completely different and it's glowing, and who knows what that thing he's holding is...
This is only marginally informative. ]
no subject
He lifts his gaze upwards, then extends an arm to point at one such "screen" hanging above them. An electro-cloth banner (close enough), flickering with alien writing. Advertisement for the ABA!, no doubt.]
Something like that, something that projects images with light. Except I always played them on something more rectangular. Not a banner.
no subject
How does it work?
[ The future is like, super cool, man. ]
no subject
I don't know, actually. [He looks back at her, though he doesn't feel terribly embarrassed about this admission. He's always appreciated technology, but that doesn't mean he knows how to put any of it together, or the details behind how it all works.]
Information gets transmitted to it, and it displays that information on a screen. In games you can interact with it if you have an... interface. A controller.
[He kind of loses his conviction near the end of that explanation, though, because he has a feeling he's not really dwelling on the important matters.]
I'm no expert. I just use it and hope it works. [A beat.] So your homeland has nothing like this at all?
no subject
[ Clearly. ]
We have...arbalests. Ballistae. Siege engines. That's about the most complex machinery I've seen.
[ And, honestly, by her time, not even most of that anymore. Like everything else, most of it's long since been trashed in the battles with the Risen. But the history of her world isn't the point here. ]
no subject
He adjusts his expectations accordingly.]
If it helps, most of this is over my head, too. We don't have spaceships or stations, where I'm from.
[A beat.] If we wanna look around, then maybe we should stick together so we don't get lost?
no subject
That may be wise.
no subject
I don't think I caught your name?
no subject
Lucina.
no subject
I'm Noctis.
[And then a beat, because-- idle chatter. Not his strong point.
Still, he is curious, so certain questions come to the forefront faster than others.]
What's your world like?
no subject
The awkward question first, okay. ]
There's very little left to speak of.
no subject
And now he feels a little guilty for bringing it up, but instead of lingering in even more awkward silence, he feels compelled to continue.]
What... happened?
no subject
The Fell Dragon was resurrected, and with him, armies of the dead - Risen, we call them. We've fought, but...
[ Well. The problem with fighting the dead is that the more you lose, the worse you're bound to keep losing. ]
I can't say how things fare beyond our own continent. The ports were destroyed early on. I can't imagine they're doing any better, though. Even Ylisstol has fallen.
no subject
He tries his best to keep it within him, but success is questionable at best.]
This Fell Dragon... is it a god, or something?
no subject
[ Even with as bad off as her timeline is, she can't really imagine taking up that kind of nihilism in response. ]
no subject
Gods from my world can be defeated. [With no small amount of effort, but he's managed it with Ifrit once.] Can the same be said of yours?
no subject
[ She glances down, to the sword at her side. Technically, she's got two out of three boxes checked - Exalted blood, and the Falchion, but - ]
The Awakening can no longer be performed, in my time.
no subject
In your "time"? [That's an interesting way of putting it.]
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