![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[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
His shoulders relax a little, and he lets his curiosity take the reins for now.]
Back where? [A pause, then an addendum.] I’ve never seen armor like yours before. You’re definitely not from Eos.
[Looks like something out of a video game, he thinks to himself. Probably doing a bad job of not projecting it, too.]
no subject
[But how does he answer that? Answer it honestly, anyway. The Castle ship? Earth? The universe itself?]
[Not actually wearing his helmet means he can push a hand uneasily through his hair, chewing it over.]
Earth, to start with. And then it was wherever the ship went.
no subject
[The idea of separate universes is too mind-boggling to focus on right now. And so he listens to what Shiro has to say, though none of it rings familiar.]
A ship, like the one we flew over on? [A spaceship, is his meaning. So this sort of thing was normal for some of the hosts here?]
no subject
[It's stopped being surprising a long time ago. At least, for him. For people newly arrived, it's probably a lot different.]
Yeah, like that. But larger. More living space, and life support systems.
no subject
At that last bit, he crosses his arms against his chest, arching a brow ever so slightly.]
So then, like the station I woke up on. Where we're all supposed to live, apparently.
[Close, not quite.]
What is it that you did?
no subject
Back where I came from? Tried to save the universe, if you can believe that.
no subject
Images flash through his mind, but most prevalent is an ornate throne room, decayed and cast in shadow. Empty. Beckoning.
He frowns.]
Save it from what?
no subject
[Some of that filters out. The briefest glimpse.]
From the people trying to conquer it all.
no subject
He blinks in surprise, the imagery fading as he does so.]
So you're at war, then. Some things never change, no matter the universe.
[Another parallel. Go figure.]
How long have you been away from your home, anyway?
no subject
[If he sounds tired as he says it, he is. He very, very much is. More than almost anything. But he doubts if this guy can blame him, given how much they tend to feel what happens in each others' head.]
A few months. It's hard to keep a consistent track, when your timekeeping schedule changes all the time.
no subject
But here he stands, on an alien waystation, speaking to others about their own universes. Their own wars, feeling their own brand of fatigue as if it was his own.
It's surreal.]
How do you deal with it? Knowing that there are people that need you back home? And yet... you're here, instead. Wherever here ends up being.
no subject
[Something darker than not having their leader around. Something worse than failing. Worse than all the Galra.]
[It's all he's got to keep focused on.]
no subject
The latter part manages to win, if only barely. And partly because Shiro is being so patient in his explanations.]
...Yeah. [-is therefore all he can offer on that. He can mull over it on his own time, he supposes.]
Not that it makes it any better, but since it's all I've got to work with, I guess I'm in the same boat as everyone. [He sets his jaw, looking at his fellow host more directly now.] We're here on a mission, aren't we? Any idea what this tournament entails?
[Straight to business.]
no subject
[He nods, though, and leaves it at that when the subject shifts.]
That's generally the way we're functioning, these days. [A deep breath.] Every time I try to get close to it, there's construction in the way.
I'm not sure if it's combat or some other kind of tournament. Hopefully the latter.
no subject
You look like you're suited for combat, though. [Not that he'd argue that "some other kind of tournament" wouldn't be better. It's just that Shiro pretty much said in so many words that he's no stranger to fighting a war, at least.
But that's assuming too much, maybe.] Not planning on getting any use out of that fancy armor of yours?
no subject
[Maybe he should have expected that kind of answer. Or reaction. It's not that it isn't true, these days. But it's also something he hasn't really wanted to focus on. Or deal with.]
[But with the tournament here... and if it's the only way to get the mission completed...]
It's not something I like doing. Armor or not.
[Simple. Easy. And honest. Maybe that can just be that.]
no subject
[He can't argue against that. There were many times when Noct was forced to fight (mechanical soldiers tumbling out of the sky, red eyes gleaming) when he rather wouldn't have. And yet, he also knows that sometimes you're not given a choice.
He considers saying this much, but decides to word it a little differently.]
Will you, though? If it ends up being a combat tournament?
no subject
[But only if he has to. Only if there's no other option. They have to be prepared for anything, here. To go to any lengths necessary. If the mission fails, then...]
[Then his team could be hurt. Or killed. Or worse.]
It's not my favorite option, but I will if I have to.
no subject
[One dangerous situation to another. Fate is laughing at him, somewhere.]
no subject
[He gets it. Completely. They can only hope it's not going to be a fight to the death. Or even combat at all.]
[There's a large part of him that really, really doesn't want to think about having to actually fight someone he's mentally connected to.]
no subject
Heh, or that.
[Ah, but then Noctis shrugs. Curious about what it is or otherwise, it's not like there's anything to be done about it now.]
Guess that's something that can be worried about when more details crop up. I think I might... be interested in seeing what it's about.
[He's willing to fight, at least, if it's necessary. If it expedites their mission here, and as a consequence, the safety of his home.]
no subject
I don't want to be, but, if it gets us forward, I might have to be.
[They're on the same wavelength here, again. Not wanting to fight, but willing to, if necessary.]
no subject
But yes, being on the same wavelength is comforting, even if they weren't mentally connected. He feels comfortable in asking another question, hoping that Shiro doesn't mind.]
Were there other "missions" like this?
no subject
[No reason to lie about it, or hide the truth. Even if he wasn't there for the actual death of the target, Sam had been.]
[It hadn't gone well for anyone.]
no subject
So you're saying the last mission was a failure. [A beat.] Hope this isn't a trend.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)