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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!))
no subject
Life was for the living, and all that.]
I should hope it does not. You stand to damage more than yourself, if it does.
no subject
[Too well. Knows how the feeling of loss can stretch and literally drag people under with him. And that's the opposite of everything he wants. Everything he's been trying to do since he got here.]
[He pauses, and looks at her again. In the eye, though.]
... are you going to be all right with this?
no subject
With what, exactly?
[With him standing in the room over her? With The Darkling's slumber? With his likely inevitable act of martyrdom?]
no subject
[He shrugs his shoulders, after a moment of staring back at her. Just as evenly, but with the addition of concern, on his end. Yes, he can feel she's angry, to an extent. But any more than that feels like intruding.]
I have to ask. I don't feel right not doing it. But I'm not here to pry, if you don't want to talk about it.
no subject
[It is clearly a repeated phrase, judging by how she says it, eyes drifting closed again. His curiosity is clear, in spite of his desire not to pry. For a moment, she stays quiet.]
I have not been afforded many choices since my death.
[She straightens a little where she lays, forgetting (or perhaps not caring) about the original reason as to why she had positioned herself that way in the first place. He may get a flash of something he doesn't want to see if he doesn't react quickly enough.]
So, what I may or may not be ok with does not factor.
no subject
[That's a sentiment he wishes he weren't familiar with. Maybe not in the sense she's saying it -- but in the sense of carrying on. Even when there's a part of you that wants to fall down under the weight.]
Choices seem like they're a rare thing to have, anymore.
[He's -- very quick to avert his eyes. Very, very quick. It doesn't change what he's saying, though, or the agreement.]
Would you be offended if I said you're sort of sounding like me?
no subject
Well. A lesson for another day.]
No.
[True enough. There's a quick drumming of all her fingers, claws tapping and breaking the forming rime under her arms.]
But I would advise you to alter your course, if that is the case.
no subject
Well. That thing about choices being in short supply applies there too, I think.
The last thing I had a say in was coming here.
[And even then, the alternative had been watching his team, that misfit family they'd all scraped together around themselves, fall apart and die.]
[It wasn't a real choice. Not to him.]
no subject
And? Do you regret that choice?
[He can't regret it, she's sure. The same way she cannot regret leaving her army, potentially her entire planet and what little she knew of her life, behind.
But humans, and the living, always seemed to arrive at different conclusions than she. If he was going to ask after her feelings of loss, surely this was fair game.]
no subject
[He doesn't have to think about it. There are times where he wishes things were different. Where he likes to imagine being back with the others. Seeing them again.]
[Knowing they were all right -- Lance and Keith are bickering, red and blue. Hunk mediating, beaming yellow because I'm a leg! Pidge a tide of green and scrolling text and wires. Allura... Allura composure, solidity, regal and like starlight.]
I miss them all. But... if this means they're safe, I can live with it.
no subject
Her eyelids lower slightly, and she sinks a bit deeper into the water, hair fanning out to float in silence. She floats above just enough to speak again, when she is ready.]
How did they take you? The Nest.
no subject
... they picked up an escape pod our... commander put me in. [Allura's face again, serene and accepting, while he hears himself shouting at her no no it shouldn't be her it should have been him why is she doing this and the pod ejecting before she's taken away.] Told me this enemy was going to kill my team if I didn't do something.
[Hence why it wasn't even remotely a choice for him.]
no subject
I was not threatened in such a way. [Pause.] Did they take the form of an enemy you recognized?
[Trying to find similarities between them was difficult. But it would not be difficult for her to believe that the Legion spanned far enough to affect other realms. Not with what they had been managing on Azeroth.]
no subject
[Which puts his "vision" or whatever it was in a strange category. One he's no longer so sure of.]
No. Nothing I'd ever seen before. The "enemy" was just... it was just dark things. I don't know how else to describe them.
no subject
She pulls one hand from the water, and lifts it to him. The water starts to freeze on her arm in short order. The other braces on the side of the pool, and does him the favor of shielding her bare chest when she does it.]
I will show you the enemy that appeared to me.
no subject
[It won't change his decision -- if this was, in any way, better for the team, then it was the right choice.]
All right.
[Human fingers extend to clasp with hers. Even if his metal arm was responding to him right now, he's not sure it would read the same way.]
no subject
The vision blurs for a moment, and Seviilia is pinned by a pack of hellish creatures. Their master approaches, cutting down swaths of knights in an attempt to get to her and finish the job. These creatures are familiar to her.
They are quickly slaughtered by another armored figure mounted on what appears to be an undead dragon, crushed by its claws. This death knight appears to bigger than all the others. She can't see her savior's face.
"The Legion who hunts you is even greater than you can possibly imagine," he rumbles, strained from injury. "They hide among the ranks of those you fight, but they are swift and far more cunning. It is not merely a question of if, but when you will be overwhelmed be it in shadow or in plain sight." The frostwyrm returns to its master's side, shrieking and covering the two figures while the larger man pulls Seviilia to her feet (much to her chagrin). "And if you fall now, you have no hope of conquering your true enemy. Come with me."
"You would have me abandon my men," the elf hisses in return, taking her arm forcefully from the mysterious figure. "Fall back in formation before I--"
A dagger thrusts its way into her back, causes her to collapse onto her rescuer, and the vision ends in a quick rush. The pain in her back lingers, and she takes her hand back.]
We were already being attacked.
no subject
[All of that is quickly pushed away, though, in the face of those images. The rush of memory. While he digs his heels in to that angry presence in the back of his mind -- the presence that keeps him grounded in the face of a war zone. Or what looks like one.]
[Even so, he can feel his heartrate pick up. Feel himself tense, to ready himself for the oncoming assault. He knows it isn't real. It doesn't stop his reaction from starting.]
[But she's right. It's nothing like what he'd seen. Nothing like what he'd been... shown? Why? Why was his different?]
[When she pulls away, when the vision ends, he can't help the short, sharp inhale. Metal fingers reaching to press against his back. Where her pain had come across.]
... I... yeah. Way different than what I saw.
no subject
Vaguely, she wonders -- and wonders aloud, as he struggles with the scar he doesn't have. Has he found control over himself? Coversely, the mark he lacks on his back from the phantom attack appears to be one of the few scars marking Seviilia's otherwise pale, glowing skin. An ugly cut, bisected by the rune circuit there.]
Perhaps there is still hope for your world.
[Because if the Legion had an unseen army, Seviilia is mostly certain that she can't imagine a positive outcome coming from it.]
no subject
[He'd be looking at the scar, if it weren't for the whole, nudity thing. And his own attempts to keep his breathing even. Regular. Getting flustered by her again would only exacerbate things.]
I really hope so... otherwise? No reason for me to be here, huh?
no subject
[Now that's interesting. Not the attempts to control anger (though, perhaps predictably, she's mentally circling the sensation like a prowling cat), but his verbal response.]
Would you return to a world that is doomed for the purpose of dying there?
no subject
[Pidge. Katie. The same person. Her face flashing through his mind -- family. His family in this place. Something not even the connections of brood and nest will sever, if he has anything to say about it.]
[And for that, he will fight even the anger (the sense of it staring down her stalking, wary and ready).]
No. That's why I have to hope me being here has some effect. That it does some good.