![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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
[They didn't need to. Caring for this thing- whatever it was- was no demand the Nest would make of them. Certainly the competition would have had no expectation of expert care for whoever had won. And yet, yes, it would be for the best.]
Yes, this and that- [he tips his head towards the black sludge] will require more study. She may enjoy it.
[It would be a small, but somewhat entertaining, distraction for her, in addition to learning what they would need to to decide what to do with either thing. Murphy's motion, to take the box, isn't met with an immediate reaction from Prince, if only because it did not warrant it. A delayed response would be just as effective. Instead he says, after a moment-]
I would not, but I cannot say the same for your fellow hosts, who played a part in their retrieval as well. And I do not think it would be best for you to have them- here.
[If he insisted on such things aboard the station- an item without any personal attachment, in a place where the only thing to fight with it was another host. No, that would not be ideal.]
no subject
Relax. They're not for me, or here. [Unless Bellamy decided to start shooting the place up, but: unlikely.] And if anyone's got a problem with it, they can tell me themselves. Not like I'm going anywhere.
[Bitter on the last, but not directed as a challenge. He's distracted from that attitude by curiosity, sharp, maybe a little too bold, but then, when had he ever cared about that.]
You're her brood, right?
[The "her" in question obvious enough not to need clarification.]
no subject
[There is something here, about children with sticks on playgrounds, perhaps. Of course, he would not be the only one with a stick. He was, to Prince's knowledge, only human, in a way so many Hosts were. At something of a disadvantage in comparison to some. He thinks, perhaps, if he were a different Host, Prince would feel less- possibly no- trepidation about the idea of him taking them. One he were more familiar with, or-]
Yes. [A clear and simple answer, for that at least. There had never been any secret in that. How could there be?]
no subject
[Not that it would mean he'd be unarmed - he still had the gun Mara had given him. But the pistols were for Bellamy, to shut up the constant murmur spilling out of his head about not having a weapon, and if he ended up having to hand them over, Murphy doubts he'd object. He probably wouldn't have even thought of taking them, if it had been him looking through these boxes. Lucky for him, Murphy had a knack for finding and taking opportunities.
Like this:]
So you know what she was like, before she went- [He gestures up next to his head, a fist bursting outward to five finger spread. He could use words like integration, assimilation, but as yet he hasn't found any terms that truly describe how Cathaway seems to him. Maybe he never would.]
no subject
[It's non-committal noise, easily undecided. It may be a lie- or it may be the truth. Or it may not matter either way. Perhaps he should take them, but in the end if this host or whatever host they were meant for wanted to kill someone, there were plenty of ways they could accomplish the deed, with or without the gun.]
Yes. For many cycles.
[Perhaps that had made it harder to handle, those many many days when she was so sharp and clearly her. How- impossible it seemed that she could be anything else, when she was so distinct. So unlike anyone he had ever known.
But the brush of her mind is just there, easy to press in to, easy to fall into, as tired as he was. She was just as unique as she ever had been.]
Why do you ask?
no subject
[There were other hosts. That much was evident enough from Nirad, from the person who'd rescued Murphy on the tower's balcony in Polis. Maybe Prince and Cathaway did have other broodmates, gone off somewhere, or they'd had other broods around at the start, like now.]
no subject
Yes, but that does not say why you ask. What is it you wish to know?
[Interest in them- in him and in Cathaway, it varied, from host to host, but most of the new ones were more absorbed in their own problems- in the present- and cared very little about their past. Did he want to know about Cathaway, to understand her, or did he simply want to know how much someone could change, when they let themselves be pulled along by the current that flowed through them, tugging constantly at their ankles, warm and inviting and ever-present?
Prince would prefer to know the answer, before he bothered to speak more on either subject.]
no subject
[History matters. Murphy's learnt that harder than some, stumbling into ALIE's roots, Becca's influence, the thirteenth station and the whole birth of the commander and the flame. Even in a world which had supposedly ended, restarted new, the past had carried on rippling forward. He can't imagine that this war is any different.
And then there's just the matter of Cathaway. How many times he's gone to her now, curiosity driving him just as much as any particular need for her help or advice.]
I mean, maybe we're just not supposed to care. Everyone gets eaten by the hivemind and then no one knows what any of us were like. What we wanted, what we'd left behind. Better to just forget all that, right?
no subject
[Whether Murphy knew that- whether he would recognize the certain predatory sharpness of her grin, or know to pay attention to when her speech slipped into something crass and direct, Prince didn't know. He did know, however, that her- absence- was not so complete. She was in his mind and his heart, how could he not?]
When she was young, she was a pilot and a warrior: confident, prideful, bold, and often reckless. She had known war and loss for many cycles, and there was very little that she feared. She was quick to emotion and quicker to react. I found her to be quite frustrating. [In many ways.]
If you want to know her desires, what she left behind, I suggest you speak to her of that. Those are personal things.
[She would doubtlessly have little compunction in sharing them, but they were nevertheless not his to give.]
If you will excuse me, I believe it is best I take this to the medical ward before I continue with cataloging.
no subject
[Half surprised, in the kind of way someone not used to dealing with if you will excuse mes would react. He doesn't think Prince really cares, like he'd stop if Murphy said no, but he's off step for a moment. Pieces of what Prince has said sound painfully familiar: himself, people he's known. Is this why he was drawn to her? Or was it just traits the Nest itself went looking for.
He wonders if Prince misses her, the way she used to be. As frustrating as he might have found her. But sharp-tongued as he might often be, he knows that isn't something to ask. In fact, Prince is halfway gone by the time he realises the reply he should've given.]
Hey. [He calls after him.] Thanks.
[For telling him about Cathaway, and explaining the prize they'd been after.]