station72 | hatch log, ota

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hatch log, ota

CHARACTERS: Rhys and [insert your name here!!]
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: Day 166
SUMMARY: Desecration of perfectly good PJs, crapping of diamonds, and peeping.
WARNINGS: nunzo

( A ) NESTING DECK

[ It's the last one. It's only right that we both open it. That's the best part. It takes a moment to register that the walls around him are the Station's and not the Vault's — he blinks once, twice, to reorient himself. No stranger to cables and wiring in his body, he unplugs with little fuss, like it's just another day. There's only something wrong once the headache comes barreling in, a sudden dull ache all over like there's something inside his head trying to push and claw its way out. Internally bemoaning the unfairness of pain in exchange for such a simple action — if you're not supposed to unplug, they should put up a sign — Rhys scrambles for the cubicle, starkly empty save for two items: one familiar, the other foreign. He pockets the stun baton before inspecting the clothing.

Plain white pajamas befitting a mental patient. While in no position to judge anyone's fashion sense, he's offended at the suggestion he dress in them all the same. What's next, he wonders, onesies? In spite of his better sense, he makes the unwise choice not to take the only other clothing offered. (He'll wear the same gross clothes every day, and he'll look incredible, thank you.) Instead of gathering them in his arms to take to Life Support, he takes one last look at them before balling them up and throwing them down the ladder. Good riddance.

He chucks them further and more forcefully than intended, but there's no sound of cloth hitting the floor. Rhys listens for a moment, perplexed, then climbs down the ladder to investigate. No pajamas on the floor, he notes, entertaining the idea that they were so ugly the lord smote them out of existence. They still very much exist, but not where he'd expected. When he makes his way off the ladder, he spots them, not on the floor but hanging on a human head, having hit them directly in the face. It can't have hurt, and although he'd be annoyed for the rest of the day were he in their shoes, he feels an apology is unnecessary. Or maybe too much effort, what with the headache and nearly escaping death with a daring rescue and all. ]

You can keep those.

[ He inclines his head and clicks his tongue, as if he's doing them a favor. In reality, he'd rather just see them gone. ]

( B ) HALLWAY

[ The Station is so sparsely populated it almost feels like a ghost town. It seems intended for hundreds of people, but they must be coming fashionably late to the party. He almost expects it to echo when he idly calls out. ] Helloooo?

[ No one answers, as expected. He stands in awkward silence for a moment, with nothing to do but stare at the walls. A few seconds pass before, in 'Good Morning Vietnam' fashion, he shouts, ] Goooooood morning, Station! [ As before, no response — he smiles like a kid who's just been left home alone realizing he doesn't have to wear pants around the house anymore. Pacing in this hallway, he can say anything. The others could be anywhere, but most importantly, they aren't here. ]

I have thirteen toes! [ A pause. ] I crap diamonds! One time, I made out with a duck!

[ As he reaches the end of the hallway, he turns and realizes he's not as alone as he thought. There, at the distant other end, stands a person. He'd likely have noticed their arrival had he not been shouting nonsense into the ether. Deflating, he grimaces.

Nonchalantly: ]

—Oh, heyyy.

( C ) LIFE SUPPORT

[ Life Support is the least strange part of the Station, which is oddly comforting. It's a 'take what you can get, beggars can't be choosers' situation; on its own, it's still peculiar, but compared to everything else, it's a hotel room in a goddamn five star resort. The lack of doors is the most puzzling part of all. Why have doorways without doors? It shouldn't be so surprising, given that the theme of tonight's event is togetherness, but it still seems a violation of privacy.

Violation or not, it doesn't stop Rhys from spying. He rationalizes that he's trying to see which rooms are occupied, but the truth is he's hoping for entertainment. Maybe he'll eavesdrop on some nasty gossip or find out who's got a newly bloodied knife on their bed. Unfortunately, he lacks the stealth required to be a proper spy. While he'd love to backflip around the hallway and limbo under invisible lasers, it isn't in the cards. His snooping around is hardly covert, and he makes little effort to hide it. If they weren't supposed to look in, after all, there would be doors. He's doing his civic duty.

Hope you don't mind someone stopping to peek in your room. ]

( D ) WILDCARD

[ do whatever you want! choose your own adventure! go hog wild! if you need me, i'm at regnant. ]

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[ Not used to a planet like Pandora, she says; he doubts anyone is except for those who live there. He's been on it for longer than he'd ever thought he would be, and still finds himself a complete fish out of water. It's possible to acclimate to certain things, but you never get used to an entire planet populated by people who want to kill you. Not thinking about Pandora, though — that's going a bit far. Maybe it's insensitive of him, but if he had to experience it, he thinks a few people can handle him thinking about Pandora.

A few flashes of sand, skags, maybe a little gore. They can deal with it.

He furrows his brow, baffled not just by the concept of filtering Pandora out of his thoughts but also by the fact that she allegedly does it. It's coddling, no doubt about it, but it's also really nice. Like, painfully so. If Jack were here, he wouldn't give a shit about anyone's feelings, and here's his flesh and blood, being careful about her thoughts. It's like he stepped into a parallel universe. ]

What, we're supposed to censor our thoughts?

[ Rhys can barely censor the words that come out of his mouth — he wouldn't know how to begin controlling his own thoughts. Quite frankly, he doesn't want to. She might be nice enough to put forth the effort, but he's awkward and jerkish and incapable of self-filtering. He'd also rather ignore the whole 'mind-meld' thing to begin with. ]

I've actually had my fill of other people's minds in my... mind. You know, Jackgate and everything. So, I mean, overwhelming's good, right? Then people won't go around trying to, uh— [ For lack of a better term: ] —thought-feel you. Is that how it works?

Sort of. [ She shrugs and - thinks of how to word it. Well, if he was familiar with Jack in his hand -- god that still sounded like the worst thing she ever heard of -- worrying at her lip to think about how to phrase it.

There's something firmer to this, directing. Doing her part, he came from Pandora, he'd suffered something most people couldn't understand, and she might just do it all anyway because she knew the headache he had right now would be awful, raw as broken glass. The tone she adopts is more forward, direct, her mind is her tool, and she maintains it carefully. Nods her head once in acknowledgement of his point -- but in turn seems to be considering it -- before she shakes her head. ]

Only so far as fear ever does. Sometimes sure, it might get you what you want. [ Jack certainly operated with that pretence. ] But the thing is, it'll happen to a certain degree whether you like it or not, and you'll need to accept that, or it becomes much harder to survive, and we need to survive, we need to accept each other to fight together. So learning to censor and control your thoughts and order your mind helps, both in directing and helping others, and protecting your inner most feelings. If not for their sake, then your own, because eventually someone won't find that overwhelming. Take me, for instance, it's nothing that would keep me out. Then they'll just read it all like an open book --

[ shrugs, the acceptance, there is always someone or something more powerful, Pandora taught that. ] -- so learning to process your thoughts, filter what is important, refrain from what is not, will help keep you whole. It can be tricky when you're not used to it, but in the long run, it won't just be polite to others, but you'll be doing yourself a favour.

[ Her fingers lift, gesturing to eyes robotic eye. ] Once you get the hang of it, it's not even that hard. No more than you might use with directing your cybernetics.

[ Rhys actually stands there and listens, expression contemplative, mind only wandering a few times — which is to be expected, with the loud way his other thoughts beckon for his attention all the time. If Fiona could see him now, he thinks, she'd have to eat that damn hat she loves so much; he can too be thoughtful, when he wants to. He even brings his flesh hand up to stroke his chin to complete the 'Thinker' pose. ]

Okay, so, I feel like we can just be real with each other, like, we've got a good rapport going here? [ Anything's a good rapport when the other person isn't trying to murder him, these days. He points a robo-finger at her, then at himself, then at her again. ] So I'm just gonna go ahead and ask that you don't do any reading of this open mind-book.

[ He's going to have to find better terminology than just adding 'mind-' and 'thought-' to everyday words, but it gets the point across for now. ]

Or as little as possible. [ Even this soon, he can tell the togetherness angle is being pushed hard; there's no off-switch, no way of opting out, and he won't fault her for that. ] And I'll do that for you, too. And not just because I don't really know how this works.

[ The hypocrisy of going on about his mental privacy right after spying on strangers in their own rooms is, unfortunately, lost on him. ]

[ She nods slowly, it's fair, whilst he's still adjusting. She preferred the mental communication, granted, but she wasn't exactly normal to start with. ]

I can try. [ Granted there wasn't anything particularly fun to be found in her mind - all ancient swirling stones and what it's like to have the biggest asshole in the world for a parent.

... Maybe that just made them good company. ] You'll have to forgive me sometimes, between this --- [ her hand lifts, the flat blue markings run rivers across her palms and over her fingers. ] -- and being locked in one room my whole life? Sometimes I find it more comfortable to talk to people... mentally.

[ The markings, those are old news — he'd already asked about them — but her pseudo-Rapunzel story isn't. She mentions it so offhandedly, too, without any actual explanation. He puts his hands up to stop her. ] Wait, wait, wait.

[ He looks at her, yet again the same way he's looked at her about a million times by this point. Like he can't quite believe she isn't fucking with him — after all, her congeniality has been sharply different from the Pandoran way of communicating, which seems to range from affectionate sarcasm to straight-up stabbing you — but can't quite believe she is, either. ]

One room, that's hyperbole, right? [ Thinking on it, he pauses. Jack was her father, he reminds himself. (It's difficult to remember, when it seems they're nothing alike.) ] —Actually, no, never mind, I believe it.

[ He narrows his eyes for a moment, looking very focused, like he's arguing with himself. Then, he lets out a small sigh. ] Okay. So, you can talk to me... mentally, or whatever. Just you, though, I'm pretty sure no one else has that 'one room' excuse.

[ Her smile pulls wane, he gets there, by himself. Fiddling absently, not quite meeting his eye. She doesn't really want people to understand what that means, how limited that truly makes her dealing with this -- this contact, this nearness, the way even now she wants to fiddle with the material of his clothes in a need that is somewhere between wonderment with the world and desperately making up for lost time. It's probably easier to pretend it's not what it is, for everyone's sake. Granted he might be the only one to believe her when she said it. Patiently, with a nod of her head she lets him come to terms with it, then gives as some sort of framing to it all. ]

Control Core 4N631. Jack kept that way for years.

[ How monstrous that could be, how he turn something like love and twist it over itself. ]

I hope not, trust me, it doesn't make for a thrilling existence. You tend to binge watch a lot of echonet shows. [ Damn, now she'll never see the end of Eden Shore, oh well. ] But don't worry, I'll keep it no more than brief conversations if needs be, it's not much different than accessing the network, and how I used to communicate before, so I tend to keep it ... casual? [ That... really didn't sound right. Well, whatever, going with that now. ] That's where it's important to learn the control, helps keep it brief to what you want to say.

[ presses her lips together, shyly almost. Maybe it was going too far. ] Would you like me to show you?

[ Hearing Angel talk about her life makes him feel a bit ashamed about how much he disparages Pandora. It's better to see potential murderers every day than to see no one at all, he figures. There doesn't seem to be a proper way to address it — or, at least, he can't think of one that isn't a strained face and, "Ooh, that's rough" — so he doesn't comment on it further, thankful that she keeps talking.

When she mentions controlling thoughts again, he presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. ]

Yeah, I can't really even keep to what I want to say outside of my mind, it's just like... Blergh. [ He pantomimes throwing up. It's all very becoming. ] —Word-vomit, that was word-vomit. Not just me... randomly puking.

[ It feels like he unwittingly illustrated his point, and the thought of everyone being privy to his stream of somewhat nonsensical thoughts is not exactly appealing. Not sounding entirely confident in his answer: ]

Sooo, show me? I guess.

[ Her eyebrows go up as he -- over explains. Well, couldn't blame him from being nervous or awkward particularly, it was a new place, there was a lot to be confused and weirded out by.

Settles back, she can deal with it all... later. There was a lot there, a lot that she needed to take the time to think about it but for now, she'd rather focus outwards where it was safe. Helping him was better than dwelling by a long shot. ]

That's okay, we can work on that. Here why don't you sit down and I can walk you through it?

[ she sits back, because for one thing -- he was far too tall, and she was going to get a crick in her neck looking up at him for much longer. Takes a seat across from him on her bed. Rooms weren't exactly big enough to warrant much more space anyway. Crosses her legs underneath her. ]

So close your eyes for me, and take a deep breath and to start with, just feel all the voices, the nest. Hear it, and then once you have it, imagine turning it down with your mind. Like it's nothing more than a news station.

[ She hovers there, both in body and mind, watching and being aware if she needs to step in. The faint flutter of a hummingbird hovering. Meticulous and patient. ]

[ He hovers awkwardly for a moment before sitting himself, pulling his knees up to his chest, curling into himself as he looks at her, listening. He truly does try, nodding intently as she talks, but it isn't exactly intuitive. Maybe for her, but for Rhys, being tapped into others' minds is more a source of discomfort than anything else. If he could only hear them without them hearing him, it might be better, but as it is, his mind feels very exposed.

He closes his eyes, takes a breath and— laughs. As he breathes out, he almost snorts, not because it's actually funny in any way but because it's so incredibly uncomfortable to be sitting there across from her, trying to listen to mind radio. ]

Sorry, it's just— maybe you could not look at me? Yeah, no, that just makes it weirder. I just... never mind, never mind. I got it.

[ His hands come up to wave in front of him as he shakes his head, like that will somehow clear his thoughts. Closing his eyes again, he takes a breath, still smiling like he's holding back an uncomfortable laugh. It's an improvement over actually laughing. He's suddenly very aware of his thoughts, like when someone reminds you that you're breathing and blinking and it becomes much less automatic.

Okay, he thinks. Okay. ...Stop thinking 'okay.' Pressing his lips together tightly and wrinkling his brow in concentration, he tries to do as she says, 'feeling' the nest. (He wishes people would stop referring to it as feeling, like he's feeling up all of their minds.) That's the easy part, really, letting it all flood in. It feels unnatural but effortless at the same time, but it's mostly just weird.

Turning it down, though, that's another matter — she talks about it like it's supposed to be easy, but there isn't actually a volume control for his thoughts. It takes a moment, but it does start to work. Right before he loses concentration and everything goes back to normal. (Well, as normal as this can be.) Eyes still closed, he grimaces, and asks, ] You guys can't hear the song stuck in my head, right?

[ She feels the brush of his thoughts as they go tumbling past. Being like this with others really through into contrast how much she spent monitering everything about herself, thoughts included. It was probably to be expected, but even so. Might be the first time in a long time she was thankful for her abilities in how much they had helped her cope with this transition. ]

.... It's not as bad as Main Frame? [ She gives him an encouraging smile, which isn't really yes or no, but she'd spare him that for his pride. ] But that was good, I know it's a little overwhelming to start with, you will get there, trust me. We're all miserable when we start out.

[ But that was one skill down, there wasn't much else but practise for it. ] Do you want to try talking mentally now?

[ It feels like an "A for effort!" when she says he did well, but he figures it's better than her rolling her eyes or making a sarcastic comment like some people would. (Like he probably would, were he in her shoes.) Still, opening his eyes and quirking a brow, he says, ] You know, you don't have to be nice about it. I'm, like, way used to verbal beat-downs. Totally numb to it at this point.

[ He'd get pissy about it, actually, but it sounds better to be cool and unaffected. ]

—But, uh. About the mind talking thing. Is that a thing people actually do?

[ His expression is somewhere between amused and disturbed, appropriate since his feelings on the matter are very mixed. On one hand, it's telepathy, like they're superheroes or something. On the other hand, he's had enough of someone else's voice in his head for the rest of his life. ]

[ And maybe that's the other side to her niceness, she looks up, fixes him directly, lips pressed together into a smile with an eyebrow raised at him -- ]

( What do you think? )

[ Purposefully doesn't open her mouth, just reaches her mind out. Doesn't dig, she had promised not to, just echoes oddly back to him. A raw pour of static to her voice, or maybe too many things speaking together that crackle together. Being in siren as she said, more in mind than in body. ]

[ One day, he'll probably have had this entire family line speaking in his head. It feels strange to have someone's thoughts directly pointed at him, for his inner voice to sound very much not like his own for a moment.]

Ooh, that's a tough one, I'm gonna say no? [ It's an attempt to sound lighthearted and breezy about the whole thing, but it falls flat, as hivemind telepathy is hardly a lighthearted and breezy subject. ] —No, yeah, it's a thing. You just think it at someone? Okay, I'm just gonna... do that. Easy peasy.

[ He takes in a breath sharply, mostly for the dramatic effect, holding it like he's about to talk back telepathically— then he lets it go, holding up a finger like he just needs a second as he tries to clear his mind, an arduous task. There's too many distracting things just floating by. ]

( Thoughts. Thinking. God, my nose itches. Oh, I didn't meant to say that. Think that? Think-say that. I re— ) [ Interjecting: ] —gret this train of thought.

[ She stays quiet, nodding once to let him go at his own pace. Really, it is a little unfortunate, first Jack and now her too? ]

( That's it, you're doing really well. )

[ Still far too nice, apparently, she doesn't really see the point of being awful. Jack had done that plenty enough for everyone.

Switches out of it as easy though, settling back to let him -- recover maybe. His mind certainly was a jumble of his nerves. This was stressful for anyone the first time around anyway. ]

When you want to talk to the nest, just push the thought to the front of your mind, direct it out, it'll help us all hear it. You'll find all our minds feel and sound differently, that will help you distinguish who you are speaking to. So when you only want to speak to one person in particular, reach for that one mind and push your thoughts at them directly.

[ "Really well" is an overstatement. He shoots her a knowing look, well aware of his inability to control anything whizzing by in his mind, especially when he's trying to telepathically communicate — he still plans on avoiding it as much as possible, despite her tips. ]

Man, you're like a flesh and blood setup wizard. [ He can imagine her popping up in the corner of his screen with a speech bubble containing 'Helpful Tips'. ] I mean, in a good way? Thanks.

[ For a moment, he looks like he's thinking about getting up and leaving, but wants to say something first — concentrating, he thinks of how to correctly phrase it. ]

So that was super weird, right? [ Not the best start, but he pushes forward. ] I just mean, like, you know. I Jack-attacked, all up in your face. I'm just saying, I'm pretty great at pretending uncomfortable situations never happened, lots of practice. So is that gonna be a thing, or not a thing, orrrr...

[ She stifles something like laughter, goes to say something like he has no idea, or now he was like the other vault hunters --

-- but he cuts her off. The forced cheer cuts itself away and her head drops. She's not mad at him. What had he done? Hits it directly is probably more the issue. She has been trying so hard since she came here, to let Jack go. To let her life be about anything else other than what he had done to her. ]

You weren't exactly what I was expecting so soon, no. [ catches her thumb nail against the pad of her finger. Scrapping backwards and forwards as she tries to put it all out. ] But look, I... my father did... awful things to me and through me. [ Get it out quick, rip the band aid off. Fact is he might be the only person that understand, having Jack rolling around in his head. ] He kept me locked up in servitude for years, drugged me with eridium, used my abilities to get his position and control Pandora. So if you're asking what I want, then it's that I just want to move on. I want to move on past all of that... this is finally my chance to do that. [ a deep breath, calmer, it's alright, it's alright, he's not here, he's not here. No matter that his saying that Jack lived in his head makes her want to sink her abilities into his eye and arm just to make sure every scrap is gone. ]

And if that's what you want too, then I think we can work something out?

[ She does an excellent job deciphering his incoherent words, at least, even if her reaction makes the situation uncomfortable all over again. (He leaves out the part where he desperately wanted to be like Jack while he was doing all those terrible things, though. It seems like it wouldn't go over well.) ]

Right. Okay, I can do that! I can do that. But— maybe not right this second, so I'm gonna head out if that's cool. [ He stands without waiting for a response, forcing her to once again crane her neck to look past his Big Bird-esque physique. ] Thanks, though, for the... set-up wizardry. I mean— [ Concentrating very hard so as not to send his entire uninterrupted stream of consciousness directly into her head. ] ( Thanks. )

[ One entire word! In mock-pride: ] Ha, look at that! The student has become the master. Anyway, yeah, I'm gonna go, thanks for the master class, uh, that's about it. Be safe, make good choices, all that. See you later?

[ He is just -- so very tall. Why was he that tall? Her head tilts up watching him and -- all faintly amused again, with him not so much at him, not cruel that way like Jack might have been. She smiles, nodding once in acknowledgement. ]

Thank you, Rhys. You too. [ About to leave it, as he turns to go but he just -- there's something wonderfully optimistic about him, she supposes after knowing him for a whole five minutes. Or at least not as sanded off to the roughest parts like she supposes their corner of the galaxy left everyone.

Worrying is a hobby, it's what she does so very well. ] Be careful, with some of the others. They're as dangerous as anything you'd find on Pandora. If you need me, I'll be right there for you, I'll help you however I can.

[ The corner of his mouth twitches before he crinkles his brow, studying her face. ]

Oh, you're serious.

[ Her authenticity throws him off; no one does that, offers their help for no reason, or at least they don't offer it to Rhys. (And definitely not after he mentions her megalomaniac father getting a second chance at life through him.) But she does, apparently, and it's getting difficult to think of ways to respond to someone so hell-bent on being helpful. ]

Okay. Trust me, I can totally handle myself out there, but. I'll keep it in mind.

[ Translation: gonna have to call on Angel for help 2 seconds after leaving this room probably?? ]

And ditto. I mean, if you need something off a tall shelf or something, [ points to himself, clicking his tongue, ] I'm your guy.

[ Rhys plz someone needs to save your beanpole existence from itself. ]

Thanks, I'll keep it in mind.

[ She's good at taking it all in her stride at least outwardly. A little bit later when everything he's said just said sinks in, will be a different matter. But for right now, she can't think of him as much more than just one more victim of Jack. Enough that she doesn't exactly want to act on that impulse to rip his head apart to make sure there wasn't anything left in his mind of Jack. ]

Good luck. You'll be fine, though, really.

[ and she leaves it there, heading back to her desk to put her head down to work again with the small bits and pieces she had been building. ]

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