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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!))
iii (sorting)
He's currently trying to untangle the collection of stringed lights that somehow got wrapped up in a ball between the Waypoint and the Station. Just when he thinks he's freed a full strand, a bulb catches on another and re-knot, but he can't bring himself to be angry or even annoyed, not while he's in range of Sam's glow.]
What the hell...? [He follows the line of lights back to the plug and finally frees the cord.]
no subject
To remember why Sam fights, so that other people can have moments like this uncomplicated by the things that mar the life of a soldier, so that he and the people he loves can have them despite the things that have complicated their lives. So that he can do something for the people who chose to come here without quite knowing what they were signing themselves up for.
So he can watch Bucky's face as he takes in all of the decorations, caught in a feedback loop of contentment that he has no desire to untangle himself from.
Especially not as he watches Bucky try to untangle those lights out of the corner of his eye, barely contained amusement in his expression. ]
No matter how good you pack those damn things, they always end up in a knot. Guess some things are universal. [ There's the barest hint of a pause, and then it's out before he can help himself, ] You need a hand?
no subject
Maybe next Christmas. [Bucky can't bring himself to be mad, even if it was a sensitive issue. One of the things he really likes about Sam is that he doesn't dance around things or handle him with kid gloves. Bucky hasn't worn an arm since Anakin's death during the Concordia mission, when he blacked out in the parlor and felt like his head had been burned by jet fuel. Sam Anders told him what happened, that he used Bucky's new arm for something and Bucky hasn't been able to bring himself to get another one yet. The odd looks here and there on the Waypoint got old fast, but he didn't want to risk it, especially not after the robbery.
Now that they know what's causing the issues with his memory, with the Soldier, he might look into getting another one. For now, though, he reaches into his pocket for a small box and chucks it at Sam's head. Inside is a bracelet.]
no subject
He laughs softly at Bucky's response, reaching up to catch the box with a pleased smirk. But it shifts when he opens up the box, expression going soft and fond and surprised. He's not really sure what he expected Bucky's gift to be, but it wasn't this, and he traces softly over the silver feather with a fingertip before he looks up. ]
It's perfect, sunshine, thank you.
[ It is, and this is the second time that Bucky's surprised him now with some small gift that means more than he can really say. And just like last time, words fail him - though their connection doesn't, and his mental presence curls around Bucky's like a winged hug. Sam clears his throat, reaching down to toss a box of his own at Bucky. Inside is... also a bracelet, along with a small key. ]
no subject
His breath catches in his throat as he stares down at the bracelet. It's perfect and strangely parallel to his own gift for Sam. The silver feather glints as he pulls it from the box, reminds him of the challenge coin he lent Shiro. It'd only been a matter of a few hours since he handed off the coin, but the loss of its weight from his pocket could still be felt. Somehow, this small gift eases the worry that had been growing in the back of his mind just enough to become background noise again.
The key, though, he's less sure about.] What's this?
no subject
There's a brief spark of relief that Bucky seems to like it, followed up by a pleased grin. He's not in Bucky's head enough at the moment to figure out why he'd been worried, but he can feel that the bracelet lessens it a little, and that's more than good enough for him.
The grin only widens at Bucky's question. Sam nods towards a portable wardrobe up against a wall behind the tree, made of some kind of blue alien fabric that'd proved to be both collapsible and extremely durable, when Sam'd gotten it up here. It's zipped up tight, with a lock that matches Bucky's key. ] It goes to that. You can open it, it's all yours.
[ Inside is a variety of pants, shirts, hoodies, shoes and socks, a pair of gloves, scarf, and winter hat, as well as towels, pillow cases, bed linens, various toiletries, and two stuffed animals. ]
no subject
He's never owned this much stuff. He's not known anyone who owned this much. What he can remember of Pierce's house was sparsely decorated and Siberia didn't have anything more than the necessaries.]
All of it?
[Reaching forward, he slides his fingers along the array of different fabrics and stops at the stuffed animals. That reminds him.] I brought a couple of them here.
[The birds, he means, but his words have gummed up his throat. However, the impression of two small alien birds,
one red and black and the other a teal.]
no subject
All of it.
[ He'd figured that Bucky didn't own much. Well - none of them own all that much now, but he'd guessed that it'd been a long damn time since Bucky'd had much to call his. He's guessed the reason that Bucky dressed in a lot of layers and tried to keep that backpack of his close, and it's... well, it's not like having things make a person, but he'd wanted Bucky to have them anyway.
The stuffed animals were maybe a little bit of a gag gift, especially the raccoon. He'd had to get them custom made, seeing as no one on Waypoint had ever seen a raccoon or an Earth bird, but it's worth it. But they're soft, and he does hope Bucky likes them.
Sam was planning on saying something more, telling Bucky why - but his words stop, too, at the impression of what Bucky means, and he lights up a little. ]
You did?
no subject
This is all his.
Just like the birds are Sam's now.]
Two of 'em. A cage and some food. [Having one alone might get lonely, though easier to manage. Two means the birds can be left behind on a mission and survive without Sam's additional companionship.]
no subject
Or at least, if anyone tries, Sam sure as hell'll have more than words to say about it. ]
We can get it set up somewhere. Your favorite hidden dark corner of the Station or whatever.
[ Some place to be Bucky's, as much as any of them have a spot they can call their own here.
He can't really stop smiling at hearing Bucky brought back some of the birds, though, and he turns his attention away from the wardrobe to focus on him. ]
You gonna show me where?
no subject
Life support.
[Bucky does like his dark corners, after all, and the more space between him and the other hosts the better, but he's actually picked quarters not too far from the others. He adds the impression of trying to feed the birds earlier in the day and the pecking he got for not doing it quite right.]