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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
[Even for those who chose to fold in, which he very well may not wish to do. Many fought against it. He begins to speak again, and he finds himself rambling, somewhat, less careful in his choice of words for his exhaustion.]
It is as normal as it could be. The Nest presents many possibilities, but for a time- not inconsiderable, it is many minds, so unlike your own, pressing against yours. It is people, some who you could not ever imagine being able to tolerate, who nevertheless are a part of yourself. It is- unique
[He takes a breath, coming to bear beside a table, earlier pulled up from the very floor of the Hangar, with more difficulty than usual. He then, patiently, holds out a hand, relatively steady.]
Thank you.
[Expectant. Each one would have to be checked for damage- and to be sure nothing new had been added to them. Carefully reset to a standard function despite whatever tampering may have been done.]
no subject
[Still, he hands over the data pads. Kind of ironic he's asking about continuing work when he's the one who hasn't stopped since he woke up with a tube stuck to his neck.
Nyx's eyes search for nothing in particular. So much plagues his mind he finds it difficult to focus on even the next set of words.]
Why would you bring two people who can do the same thing, if all of this is unique?
[No, he's nothing like Noctis, and no, he can't do at all the same things, but the principle is the same. If all of this is about what's so different, to bring two people who have a similar sort of background... would it be an advantage, or disadvantage?]
I'm just having trouble understanding why I'm here.
[Because he had something to do. He had to get the Ring back to the then Prince, who now stands King, who's seen him beyond dead.
It finally dawns on him that he knows things that he shouldn't know. For all that he's fought, for all of his resilience, his willpower sinks some.
What now?]
no subject
[True enough. He had no weakness of the body, no injury, no particular strain. It was a thing in his mind, or possibly in his spirit, and it would pass, with time. For now there is the datapad. Activating it and then methodically going through the same motions as he always did, after a mission. Careful, despite the practice. It was a lifeline, in its own way.]
Two people who can do the same thing are not the same person. It is not a question of having, for instance, two bowman, or two pilots. Every mind is different. Each person comes with their own experiences. Those have value.
[Even what seemed like the same person, again. There were so many little choices, so many small things- inconsequential things. Every brush-stroke-
His mind was wandering. He cleared his throat, gesturing beside him.]
If you would like to set them down. Look for any with cracks, or chips. If you find one, set it aside.
no subject
He says nothing, now. It's his choice, the same one he'd make, the same one he's making right now. He only does as he's asked, picking up one of the pads and starts inspecting it methodically.]
A different way to see the same thing. [A beat.] Is it always this easy to tell who's new?
no subject
I know every host aboard this station, and off.
[There's a distracted distance to his voice as he moves onto the next, once repeating the same examination again.]
My name is Prince. I am the guardian of this place, alongside Cathaway. It would be impossible for me not to know you.
[Not that he was overly familiar with him. The hosts who rescued them typically had some information for him, and Cathaway at times knew more, but he had only the barest sketch, of the person, of their world- sometimes patched by past hosts who came from similar places. Still, they were his responsibility. He knew their faces and the beating of their hearts, echoing on the Nesting deck.]
no subject
[He's hoping that it's a last name, or even a first name, and not actually royalty. Nyx has had about enough of those for a little while, despite his job and his orders had always been to protect the king.
Could you blame him for wanting just a slight break from royalty and politics?]
Nyx Ulric.
[The datapad seems fine, so he sets it aside, works on the next one. He notes the detachment and the distraction, but he's not sure if it's in his place to ask.
Then again, that had never stopped him.]
Something's on your mind?
no subject
The introduction is enough to draw his attention away from the data pad, his wrist going lose as he turns his head away from it.]
I am pleased to meet you.
[The words are met with the slightest bow of his head. A mild form of a traditional honor.]
Nothing more than usual. However I am, at the moment, slightly reduced.
no subject
[And he'll offer the same sort of bow on his behalf.]
The usual sounds like it's worse than whatever happened.
[Really, he just wants to get a feel for what to expect. It can't be anything he hasn't trained for, or at experienced at least once, but it's nice to know.]
no subject
[There's an edge of the sardonic on his voice, and it's not quite- his. It's an echo of someone else, their sentiment, not necessarily of their situation but of his. He's aware of it in a distant way, but- Well. He is exhausted. He recognizes the thinness of the excuse. He thinks, later, he will be concerned by it.]
But this was not so much a disaster. Simply- loud.
[That is true. It was, to some extent, simply exciting, there were so few loses in comparison. However had the station not been in this place, had those who had taken their companions been less even-handed, if this had been a crueler place- Well. A different situation entirely.
He returned his attention to the datapads, the least- and yet a the moment most approachable- of his duties.]
no subject
He'd break it before folding it together.]
I know the feeling, on both accounts. Some days I wake up with my ears still ringing.
[Vaguely, he finds himself assuming Annie would be among those difficult ones. And himself, honestly. Difficult in that he couldn't be counted on to follow orders when the orders are absurd.]
I can't say I'm jealous of your position, or of anyone leading an army. I don't know how Drautos ever did it. [At mention of Drautos, the image warps almost instantly into a hulking figure in a strange, twisted armor. The pang of deep regret, even sadness, shoots through Nyx. He'd trusted Drautos, once.
But he smiles a little, despite it.] Any punishments I should know about for breaking orders?
[Because becoming a royal chauffeur was a hell of a demotion.]
no subject
[The words don't come out quick, rather they seem to settle thick across his tongue before he says them. A correction, but a gentle one.]
And I am no leader.
[His attention yet lingers on the pad in his hands, not savoring the idea of going through this, now. He knew well enough he was not quite in the right frame of mind to present the facts as they were.]
There are no set punishments, no standards we expect all to follow. If you put the Nest or the other Hosts in danger, we will intervene, but we are not generals nor kings.
[Their position was unique in the Nest, for having any sway over anyone, but he had never confused it for leadership. Teachers, guardians, occasionally something darker. That did not bear speaking of, at the moment.]
no subject
The rest, he figures, is going to be something he'll have to learn and pick up for himself.]
This one's chipped.
[He flips the data pad over, finding a second scratch across the back, to add to the small chip and dent on the corner.]
And scratched.
no subject
[It was simple, certainly, but there were many small simple things that added up to something that could become overwhelming so easily, especially when they were so exhausted- radiating it along the connection Between Cathaway and himself.]
But you may wish to follow my previous advice. Rest will do you good.
no subject
[If he's not asleep, he's barely asleep, and when he does manage to actually sleep, he's pretty much done for the rest of the day.]
You might want to follow your own advice, too.
[He gives the rest of the data pads a cursory glance before reaching for the next.]
There's not a lot left. The voices in my head keep... getting louder, sometimes. I don't know how much help I'll be.
no subject
[It isn't quite a lie. Not really. it is certainly far more quiet than the new hosts were. In fact, it might be hard for them to imagine, just now, how quiet it could be.]
If you wish to help with the rest, you may. And if I may make a suggestion? Centering your mind helps, if you have practice in it. And- [He hesitates, brow furrowed, focus seemingly keen on his own work again] you can try to focus on one mind, one thread. It may seem more manageable to quiet that thread than dozens others. It will take time to learn, but in the meanwhile you will likely find you will grow accustomed to the din as you would a ballroom. Background noise.
[Or a ballroom, perhaps. Or a battlefield, depending on the minds bound to your own.]
no subject
[He can't say he can relate to ballrooms though. That was out of his depth. Battlefields, though?
Nyx sighs lightly as he inspects another data pad and passes it off as intact.]
So how long did it take you?
no subject
[It was not any true or strong control, but it would certainly help with the headaches and the overwhelmed feeling that came from so many overlapping thoughts and feelings. Prince went about his own inspections, carefully setting the pads into one of two piles. It was somewhat easier with another person, but also less- familiar. He did not often solicit help with these things. As if he was shirking his responsibilities. But this is only a small thing. It could not hurt when he was already not at his best.]
Take comfort in the number who have come before you and found some peace.