![[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}
[hatch log] it reaches to the fence it wraps it rail by rail
CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :046
SUMMARY: New hatches . ..-and the promise of another.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP you are suddenly changed. 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. Right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange and you know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.
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. A matching dread. An easy comfort. 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. There's two of you and the closer you are to this stranger, the louder the sound in your head becomes. --Actually they're not quite strangers either, are they? Something is wound about and between the two of you. You know him and he knows you. He is 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 tangled garden, or they are a shadowed black wood, 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.
Maybe that's why the sensation of one of those links blooming into the shape of a thought in your head doesn't startle you:
AN ASSIGNMENT
THE VOICE UNFOLDING isn't really a voice at all. It's a series of shapes, an image of a path curving through the slate and white interior of the Station, of a warm stone and the steady ka-thud ka- thud
of something living. It's mottled light. The sensation of easy momentum, of walking at the edge of a field in summer in a place where the adjacent wood casts a long, cool shadow. It says:
( We have a task for anyone who has time to spare. )
Then Cathaway's mind folds up like a letter and slides back into the white noise murmur of the Station. However, anyone who goes looking to find her won't have a hard time. The Station seems to bend itself to make doing so quickly; familiar paths lead somewhere strange: Cathaway stands in a quiet chamber whose only feature is a case at the center. Inside the case is a large egg with a beetle shell iridescence - one of the many prizes stolen from the ABA!.
"It seems to do best when in the company of something alive. We'd like it if you and the others would spend some time with it." She withdraws her hand from the case and smiles cheerfully. "Think of it as an experiment."
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts as well as the catch-all for an optional mini-event. If your character wants to babysit an egg, please make a quick note of it over HERE for...reasons. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host 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 :046
SUMMARY: New hatches . ..-and the promise of another.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!
YOU WAKE UP you are suddenly changed. 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. Right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange and you know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.
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. A matching dread. An easy comfort. 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. There's two of you and the closer you are to this stranger, the louder the sound in your head becomes. --Actually they're not quite strangers either, are they? Something is wound about and between the two of you. You know him and he knows you. He is 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 tangled garden, or they are a shadowed black wood, 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.
Maybe that's why the sensation of one of those links blooming into the shape of a thought in your head doesn't startle you:
THE VOICE UNFOLDING isn't really a voice at all. It's a series of shapes, an image of a path curving through the slate and white interior of the Station, of a warm stone and the steady ka-thud ka- thud
of something living. It's mottled light. The sensation of easy momentum, of walking at the edge of a field in summer in a place where the adjacent wood casts a long, cool shadow. It says:
Then Cathaway's mind folds up like a letter and slides back into the white noise murmur of the Station. However, anyone who goes looking to find her won't have a hard time. The Station seems to bend itself to make doing so quickly; familiar paths lead somewhere strange: Cathaway stands in a quiet chamber whose only feature is a case at the center. Inside the case is a large egg with a beetle shell iridescence - one of the many prizes stolen from the ABA!.
"It seems to do best when in the company of something alive. We'd like it if you and the others would spend some time with it." She withdraws her hand from the case and smiles cheerfully. "Think of it as an experiment."
((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts as well as the catch-all for an optional mini-event. If your character wants to babysit an egg, please make a quick note of it over HERE for...reasons. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host 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
Shiro. You? [And then, deadpan:] People who want their friends and family back home to stay safe.
no subject
[ He's alone. It doesn't matter that there are little lights, pricks of consciousness against his own, and one shines brighter than the others and is named Hyperion, he's alone.
[ Jagged edges cut and tear with every step, every move, every thought. He's cold and he's terrified and all he wants to do is reach out and be met with the familiar. The family. The self. Orange and blue, two vines intertwined, separate but together, but now there's no together. He's missing. He's missing. No hand holding his. No gold to greet his own.
[ He's alone.
[ Hikaru huffs out a sigh. Pulls himself up. Kicks and kicks and kicks until he hits the surface. Keeps swimming. ]
You could've said that from the start. [ No true annoyance; the tone lies. Though Shiro's hand isn't the one he wants, he takes it with his own. ] I'm Hikaru. Hikaru Hitachiin.
no subject
[It's like losing a limb...]
[His right hand shudders, twitching reflexively and shaking where it still grips the egg. It rattles against the shell, fingers clanking. Because it hurts. And it's all he can do to keep from dropping the thing.]
Can you -- can you take it back? Please.
[He shifts it to his other hand, temporarily, letting the metal limb drop back to his side, cramming it into a pocket and trying desperately to breathe through the phantom ache. Through the feeling of absence, the remembered loss. The hands groping through the darkness. So many hands everywhere and -- and all he wanted was understanding all he wanted was to help to offer it to reach out and be understood to reach out and assist to make things better and it's gone it's cut off.]
[Everything smothered down under his mental wall of stars. As he attempts an explanation, the words a little ragged.]
Mechanics. Acting up.
[If Hikaru takes the egg, he'll clamp his free hand to where metal joins flesh of his bicep. Like squeezing is going to stop him from thinking.]
no subject
[ He takes the egg from Shiro's human hand and cradles it in his arms. It's a stark contrast to his aimless game of catch just minutes before. ]
"Mechanics"...? [ He looks at the artificial limb with blatant curiosity. Is it causing Shiro pain...? ] Wait, is that really your arm? You're not cosplaying?
no subject
[He goes quiet. Running through the mental checklist. Grounding -- flight checklist -- breathe. Scaling everything back from the sudden punch to the chest of hurt. It takes a minute or two.]
[Even when he recovers, smothers it down, he still keeps hold of his arm.]
Not even a little. It's what I've got.
[Curiosity is better than revulsion. Probably.]
no subject
[ No revulsion at all. He's intrigued. He tilts his head to the side and leans in to get a closer look. Personal space? What personal space? ]
How does it work?
no subject
[He leans back a little bit from the sudden personal space invasion.]
I have no idea. It just... does? They didn't send an instruction manual.
no subject
Who's "they"?
no subject
The ones who gave it to me. Can you... lean back? A little?
no subject
[ He doesn't lean in more, but he's totally not straightening up, either. ]
no subject
[And it's a sore subject at the moment, no pun intended.]
no subject
[ Nothing but fascination in his tone. He does oblige Shiro's request by leaning back a bit. ]
I didn't know medicine was anywhere near this stage. You'd think Kyoya would've said something.
no subject
[It slips through the field of stars held so tightly against his mind. Against anything he could be feeling. Human fingers clutching harder where metal meets skin.]
It isn't. It... [Deep breaths.] It isn't a subject I'm comfortable with. Can we move on?
no subject
[ Hikaru looks to the man's face, puzzled. His thoughts are all-too-easy to pick up: ]
( Man, what's with this guy? )
[ The teenager straightens up and shrugs. ]
Sure, whatever. I guess we do have some stuff to take care of.
no subject
[Just to let him know he heard that. So maybe Hikaru can work on keeping some things a little quieter. He seems like the kind of kid to want to keep things from being broadcast.]
[He nods once.]
Did you find a place to sleep yet?
no subject
[ It ... might take a bit more than that to nudge him toward being quiet. ]
Huh? Oh, no, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about that.
[ And he gestures to Shiro. All of him. ]
no subject
[Because now he's baffled.]
[He thought they were talking about the station and whatnot.]
no subject
Don't take it personally. This place clearly has no fashion sense. Look at these things.
[ He scowls down at his own plain white clothes. ]
They're ... so bland.
[ He actually shudders. It takes him a second to compose himself. ]
Finding new clothes is our first mission. We'll deal with your hair later.
no subject
[Take Seviilia and her whole naked swimming routine.]
We might not even be on a planet with clothing options. So, our mission is whatever needs to get done aside from that.
[Wait. Hold on.]
With... my hair?
no subject
Of course it matters. And I mean our mission. You and me.
[ Yup. They're in this together now. Though Hikaru does give Shiro a kind of pained look at the mention of his hair. ]
Yeah, your hair. Didn't we already go over this? We'll take care of it after we find new clothes.
no subject
[He actually lifts his hands to fluff them through his hair, self-consciously. Pidge never said anything about it. Sam liked it. He thought.]
Why does everyone have a problem with my hair?
no subject
[ SO EXASPERATED. ]
Fine, don't call it a mission. Call it a quest. Whatever. Let's go.
no subject
Go where?
[You are a confusing child.]
no subject
[ His priorities are perfectly reasonable, thank you. ]
no subject
Not on the Station, anyway.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)