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Entry tags:
- *hatch log,
- aloy [horizon zero dawn],
- annabeth chase [riordan mythos],
- annie westwind [original],
- asuka langley sohryu [evangelion],
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- cathaway,
- commander shepard [mass effect],
- derek souza [the darkest powers],
- helen magnus [sanctuary],
- ilde vilmaine [original],
- john murphy [the 100],
- lexa [the 100],
- misato katsuragi [evangelion],
- noctis lucis caelum [ffxv],
- nyx ulric [ffxv],
- pidge gunderson (katie holt) [voltron],
- sam wilson [mcu],
- steve rogers [mcu],
- the prince
[hatch log] everything happens so much
CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :039
SUMMARY: New faces and old losses - a hatch occurs and a number of older hosts go comatose. Coma'd hosts include all auto-piloted dropped characters to date.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP and suddenly you're a different person. No. That's not right. You're you and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or like surfacing up from the darkness of the ocean and right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye. While it’s impossible to tell exactly how long ago or how exactly you escaped the danger that had been breathing down your neck, you're certain 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 once 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. The closer you are to these stranger, the louder the sound in your head becomes. --Actually they're not quite strangers either, are they? Something is wound about and between you and these people, whoever they are, are as familiar as this place you've never been is.
Welcome to Station 72. The air buzzes with activity. Somewhere deep in the Station, other minds call to yours. They are bright, brilliantly celebratory spots in your subconscious. They are sun-warm gentle, or they are fire and the taste of ash, or they are a vibrant frenetic whirl, or they are a tangled garden, or they are the feeling of flight through dense cirrus clouds. No two links are exactly the same, but you know for certain that you are connected to all of them in at least some small way.
Which is why it's easy to tell when something goes terribly wrong:
OLD HOSTS
THE ENDORPHIN RUSH of making it back to Station 72 (relatively) unharmed, having successfully acquired exactly what you'd set out to get your hands on can't be denied. Even if you're not necessarily the type to celebrate, there's no ignoring the thrumming celebratory sensation from those Hosts who are.
After a few hours of being back in the void, something else stirs in the air: the clear, prickling sensation of new hosts hatching on the Nesting Deck. They're a rush of mental information - as if someone's turned the volume on the radio all the way up -, a cacophony of sensation and emotional feedback for anyone unprepared to shield against it.
The swell of feeling might make it easy to miss what follows immediately after: the dull, gut-deep quiet as The Darkling, Chuuya Nakahara, and Nasu Rei go suddenly comatose.
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care do. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE. You can find additional setting information about the Station HERE If you have any questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :039
SUMMARY: New faces and old losses - a hatch occurs and a number of older hosts go comatose. Coma'd hosts include all auto-piloted dropped characters to date.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
YOU WAKE UP and suddenly you're a different person. No. That's not right. You're you and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or like surfacing up from the darkness of the ocean and right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye. While it’s impossible to tell exactly how long ago or how exactly you escaped the danger that had been breathing down your neck, you're certain 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 once 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. The closer you are to these stranger, the louder the sound in your head becomes. --Actually they're not quite strangers either, are they? Something is wound about and between you and these people, whoever they are, are as familiar as this place you've never been is.
Welcome to Station 72. The air buzzes with activity. Somewhere deep in the Station, other minds call to yours. They are bright, brilliantly celebratory spots in your subconscious. They are sun-warm gentle, or they are fire and the taste of ash, or they are a vibrant frenetic whirl, or they are a tangled garden, or they are the feeling of flight through dense cirrus clouds. No two links are exactly the same, but you know for certain that you are connected to all of them in at least some small way.
Which is why it's easy to tell when something goes terribly wrong:
THE ENDORPHIN RUSH of making it back to Station 72 (relatively) unharmed, having successfully acquired exactly what you'd set out to get your hands on can't be denied. Even if you're not necessarily the type to celebrate, there's no ignoring the thrumming celebratory sensation from those Hosts who are.
After a few hours of being back in the void, something else stirs in the air: the clear, prickling sensation of new hosts hatching on the Nesting Deck. They're a rush of mental information - as if someone's turned the volume on the radio all the way up -, a cacophony of sensation and emotional feedback for anyone unprepared to shield against it.
The swell of feeling might make it easy to miss what follows immediately after: the dull, gut-deep quiet as The Darkling, Chuuya Nakahara, and Nasu Rei go suddenly comatose.
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care do. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE. You can find additional setting information about the Station HERE If you have any questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))
Re: Seviilia Option
Yes. There's something machine-link in Seviila as Aloy studies her. She takes a few steps closer, lance still dangling from her fingers, balanced so as not to drag, leather shifting and the decorations woven into her hair clinking and clattering with faint noises when they bump against each other. This place just gets stranger with every new person she meets.
"I'm doing my best. This place is really strange--it feels like we're underground."
no subject
Seviilia manages a light chuckle, a noise that hardly sounds jovial when it comes from her. Were it not for the light curve of blue lips, it might have been easy to mistake for a threat. "I can assure you such is not the case. Perhaps it is the lack of windows. We are very much above ground. Any ground."
A concept she isn't quite sure she's comfortable with yet. She'd been so eager not to confront it that she'd considered the Waypoint as 'solid ground' in spite of it being very similar to the state of the Station. Hanging, in space.
"You will adjust. If you find it to be too much for you, the pod you crawled from will provide some relief -- assuming you are not above such things." It was easy for her to figure out that the idea of the Nesting Pods made many of the other Hosts uncomfortable.
no subject
"So we're really in space. Between worlds." It's a statement, not a question and she can't seem to shake off the weird feeling that the knowledge brings her. It's similar to vertigo, not that she's ever experienced it before and she finds herself sinking down to sit for a moment, still processing.
"I might. A bed is a bed." You learn that very well when you a life like hers.
no subject
"Some find it unnatural. Perhaps you remember it, when you woke." Since it appears that this Host won't be fleeing from her, Seviilia takes the opportunity to lean against the wall -- not because she is tired, but because she has seen others do it when they are relaxed. A form of mimicry, in hopes of making the entire process a little easier.
"The quiet. And then the noise."
no subject
"Yeah. It's as if everyone started talking at once and I can't make it stop."
no subject
"But the pod will control it for you."
no subject
"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind if I need some quiet. I'm trying to get used to it though, since I apparently have to deal with it constantly now."
no subject
But if she dwells too long, her anger might consume her. So she doesn't, and instead lets her thoughts filter back naturally -- slowly, as to not overwhelm the other woman.
"It comes easier to me. The Hivemind was essential to my army, once. Before I was brought here, as you were."
no subject
"I can't imagine having this my whole life, but I guess everyone is different." Life. No. She knows death when she sees it she just thinks she's mistaken. No one could be walking around being dead, could they?
no subject
"You are not mistaken," she says, calmly. Calm in a way that only death knows. "My life was taken from me several years ago, in a march on the capitol of my people. And I was returned to fight my enemy's war for them, along with thousands of others."
There's no sorrow in how she delivers the story. Its a sort of cold detachment, like she is reading from a script.
no subject
"That... that must be hard." It's not exactly pity. More sympathy and wonderment.
"I don't understand how anyone could be brought back from the dead, though."
no subject
"Magic."
To demonstrate, Seviilia reaches down and presses a fingertip to her plate greave, which immediately begins to freeze over in a spiderweb from where she has touched. Its a brief display, to which straightens back to her position against the wall. She is not the first who has never encountered it before.
"Specifically, a form of magic called necromancy. I am capable of it as well."
no subject
"Necromancy." That word she repeats more slowly, feeling the strange word on her tongue. Death magic. It gives her a strange feeling that shivers down her spine. She is so used to life and warmth and this woman seems so distant from it. She seems more like a machine. Maybe thinking of her as an intelligent machine would be easier.
I can't imagine coming back from the dead. It seems so horrifying."
no subject
"Food and drink tastes of ash. You crave blood. You are drowning, the air you breathe hurts to take, but you take it out of habit until the habit dies alongside you. You cannot sleep because your mind has forgotten everything but how to stop life, and how to make life miserable to live. Your life, the lives of other's. And though you don't sleep, shadows plague idle thoughts. You start to crave suffering -- and the suffering of others is all that soothes your own."
And that -- that was a free existence. She does not bother to mention the bondage under the Lich King. No one had really asked her about it (any of it) before -- no one but The Darkling, and Ilde. She finds her fury at his slumber all over again. "It is not a fate I would wish on many."
no subject
"I wouldn't either. I thought..." She frowns.
"I thought you like a machine, but a machine doesn't suffer in the same way."
no subject
"I would encourage you to keep that perception." Death Knights were, after all, machines of war. Their suffering was a tool to keep the machine oiled and moving. There was no real cure for it, and so Aloy's sympathy is wasted on her.
Perhaps she will learn to curb such curiosity in the future, so as not to be burdened with such plague of the mind.
no subject
no subject
She has to physically shake her head to pull herself from it. What it leaves behind is a pit in her stomach.
"If it brings you comfort, you will not find others here like me. I am the only undead creature that walks these halls."
no subject
"It must be lonely, being the only one of your kind." Assigning that sort of emotion is probably a little foolish, but Aloy is doing it all the same.
no subject
Aloy will be ok with that, or she won't be. The worst part about it wasn't what came with the connection to her -- but that was a conversation for another day.
no subject
"That's. Interesting. I might come ask you about that later. I think I'm going to go... uh. See if I can find something to eat. Feels like my stomach is attached to my spine." A convenient excuse to get away from the Death Knight. She's left with a strange, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. What if Saviilia sees through the white lie?
no subject
So, she gives a small nod and turns her back on Aloy. "Shorel'aran, little one." The Thalassian translates between them easy, without effort on either of their parts. A simple farewell.