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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
Fucking perfect. I will literally die without my smokes. Maybe I better get like a few cartons to stash... [ Talking to herself, fiddling out another cigarette, eyes scanning the stalls as they walk, on the hunt for the goods. ] Was worried about smoking alien shit, not down to get my brain fuckin' scrambled...
[ And then she remembers the other question, as if it had almost disappeared from her thoughts. Honestly, with the way her mind churns and reaches in al directions, not so surprising. ]
Annie. Annie Westwind. Brand new recruit to alien mind-meld fuck fest.
no subject
[She probably won't have to wait long. New hatches seemed to be happening as often as people falling asleep. It makes him wonder, a little distantly, why the station was so empty.]
And everything's alien shit here, if you hadn't noticed. [As he neatly skirts between what looks like an eight-limbed disc and a bipedal rhino.] If you think you can manage not to use all of those, we can get them to scan it or something. Or you're gonna have to get used to experimenting.
[The thought rises to tell her that her brain's going to scrambled anyway. But he just doesn't feel like it, not when he'd apparently already misstepped on thinking any old smoking product would do.]
no subject
I'm not to be fuckin' trusted.
[ A grin. ]
no subject
But you trust me already? [Raised eyebrows.] I'm touched.
[As he slides it into a pocket, hidden and hopefully safe enough.]
no subject
[ That was how betrayal worked. You had to actually give a shit before it would really sting. Annie has never been as betrayed as she is with herself, knowing she couldn't convince Therese to stay. Annie smiles through the pain of that memory, completely cheerful to the outside world, and happy to nurse another cigarette. The smoke fills her lungs, her stomach, her head, and away goes that pining emotion for a girl who'd never come back. ]
You don't want to see me without my cigarettes.
[ No one does. She's unpleasant to be in contact with now: fully in control, mostly level. Get her hankering with nicotine, take away the dully effects of the smoke, and watch that mind of hers just reach and reach and reach, coveting, covering everything it touched in slime and burning. ]
no subject
[That kind of need, that kind of desire. He's been on both sides, he knows how it works. There's always something someone wants, something they care about. It doesn't take knowing a person to find out what theirs is - just five minutes and a sharp eye.
Still, he holds his hands up.]
I'm not, for the record. [The fact they're all brainlinked makes trying anything on any of the hosts an unappealing idea, even if any of them had pissed him off enough to aim for it.] Just in my experience there's no minimum time limit on betrayal.
[But he doesn't want to think over his experience. He wants to have a good time, and he gestures at the next alley cut between buildings, narrowing as one side finishes construction.]
Here, we're almost there.
no subject
This better be good, buddy. I had a pretty good thing going with those dice.
[ Sort of. Whatever. ]
no subject
[The end of the alley leads to a series of cored-out buildings clearly marked for imminent reconstruction. Murphy ignores the warning signs - scant as they are, anyway - and heads directly into one with all the confidence of knowing where he's going. He doesn't, not exactly, but he can already hear the crowd, the rising noise of voices shouting encouragement and threats, the sounds of angry loss and jubilant triumph. As they get closer, other sounds become more audible: a whirling, buzzing noise, electronics beeping distress.
They turn a corner past a pillar and the source of all of the hubbub becomes immediately clear: a thick ring of people stood in a circle, looking up as two shiny, multi-coloured discs spin around each other in the air. One ripples a series of bright neon lights, but before whatever that means can come to fruition, the other spits out a rush of fire in its direction, forcing it to flip madly out of the way.
Murphy raises his eyebrows at Annie, making a hmmm? noise. No way dice was better than this.]
no subject
[ Annie squawks excitedly. She may or may not have helped Helka build such a thing once upon a time, all while mocking it as nerdy bullshit. She wouldn't have made so much fun if they had been clearly unregulated bots like these. ]
I would have been way more in to this in high school if we coulda put a fuckin' glock on it.
[ She cackles, that terrible mind of hers lighting up. ]
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.
[ She wants a front row seat and she really doesn't care who she has to shove to get one. ]