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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
[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.