[MISSION: HYRYPIA] the moon drops one or two feathers into the field

[isorropia]

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY :055
SUMMARY: Two veteran hosts arrive on the Station and a mandatory meeting is called. It's time to prepare for a new mission.
WARNINGS: Just chill dudes having a chill time. (Will add warnings as necessary)


I. THE SHIP.
((closed to one thread with a maximum of two player characters; first come, first serve; please don't nab this if you want to play an AFTERMATH prompt and vice versa))

[Early in the day, one of the hangar's platforms rotates upward into place. On it sits a long, bird beak shaped ship. For a moment it has all the appearance of being held together with little more than hope and a prayer. Its nose panels are scorched from the punching in and out of atmosphere and its wings have a rugged, rudimentary sweep to them. Then the illusion melts away and the ship becomes fundamentally concrete, though no less strange as it twists into a shape more closely resembling some complex origami. From it comes two hosts, both in elaborately layered stiff edged garments that cloak them from neck to knee.]

Double time, darling.

[The pale alien flashes a broad grin at her comrade as she vaults from the cockpit to the hangar floor. Her partner, hood thrown back and his scarves unwound to reveal short, tawny fur and two sets of small horns, tosses two bags down after her then follows her down.

The ship seals itself after them like a fan folding closed.]

II. MENTAL LINK.

[There is a strange, unfamiliar voice in your mind. It comes without a greeting and without the polite request for attention, but rather like a voice over an intercom, curt and low:]

( Hosts will report to the briefing room in- ) [the measurement of time that filters into your mind is not quite numbers, untethered by the standards of one people, but the meaning of it is clear- approximately 15 minutes] ( You have received the mission info on your personal databank. Proceed to the location upon review. )

[There is no invitation to continued conversation, but there is the impression of a location, one which you are unfamiliar with. The space it occupies pressed into your mind like a seal into hot wax. You can find it. You know it.]

III. BRIEFING.
((thread jacking encouraged for this - speedier back and forths seem like the funnest way to accomplish a group meeting; tag order will be treated cavalierly at best in any group threads!))

[Not far from the hangar deck, the corridors curve and then abruptly dead end at a circular room with a series of tiered benches seemingly carved from the Station's structure. Is this where you meant to be? Well, the voice had seemed like it wasn’t optional.

At the center of the small briefing room sit two Hosts. The first, a tall narrow alien with long pointed ears and solid green eyes sits straight with military precision, facing forward and not moving except to breath. The second, a pale alien with fringe touched by gold and dark lip lacquer is sitting in a spindly chair and aggressively typing on her tablet. She's shed her elaborate outerwear for one of the Station's bodysuits. She doesn't look up for a long time.

Eventually once everyone is seated, Rhan folds her databank up into a cube, sets it on the pedestal beside her and strokes along its side to trigger a projection of glittering gossamer images into the dim room's center.]

Let's get down to business, shall we? Hopefully you've all done your homework, [She arches an eyebrow, flashing a quick grin] --so the nuts and bolts won't be shocking. But Siva'co and I wanted to go over a few particulars before we take you all on this charming little adventure. Namely this one:

[She taps the side of the cube with her finger with a click of her long fingernail. The briefing report sent to the hosts earlier scrolls rapidly to the line '--one of these major diplomatic factions is believed to have been infiltrated by 'Enemy' agents.'.]

Now we've worked rather hard for the last year in this universe and we both would be very unhappy for all that effort to go down the drain just because someone thinks they'd like to be a hero. Isn't that right, Siva'co? I don't know how much contact you've had with our good friends out there, but let's be clear about this: if the Enemy becomes aware of our presence on this planet, this mission will be aborted. They'll get whatever they want out of this universe and, most importantly, some of us will die while running with our tails between our legs.

[Rhan tips her head to her partner.]

How do you feel about getting killed by someone with ideals, Siva'co?

[There is a long pause before he answers- and it is difficult to read his face exactly, but he seems somewhat exasperated.] Whatever the source of the failure, to die for reason other than the success of the mission is not acceptable. All must fulfill their roles with focus and dedication in order to see victory. Foolishness will not be tolerated.

[Rhan looks back to the assembled Hosts, cheerful smile unflagging.]

Questions?

IV. AFTERMATH.
((each prompt limited to one thread, first come first serve; please don't pull one of these if you nabbed THE SHIP prompt and vice versa.))

SIVA'CO.
[Regardless of the fact that the meeting is complete, Siva’co does not immediately leave. Rather a) he waits, stiff backed and formal by the door as Host’s filter out, not particularly inviting conversation but not fleeing, either. When the last host has left the room, he is found b) in the Training Wing, working his way through a number of the exercise machines with a single-minded focus, breathing heavily through his noses, hooved feet silent on the treadmill and the foam mats.

RHAN.
[After the briefing sessions, someone quick on their feet might manage to catch Rhan a) in the corridor leading from the briefing room. But you'll have to be very quick as she clearly has things to do and is shortly swallowed up by the labyrinthine corridors of the Station's interior. Some time later, she appears b) in the library, making space to shelve a series of small leatherbound books. Rhan flips open each one to check the label on the first page as she takes them from the open bag at her feet. The bag itself appears to be stuffed with…. well, stuff in addition to the books.]

Comments

[unfavoured]

( III. ) when you think of me you should think of fire

[ The loudness of a voice that isn't familiar pushing through her barriers is enough to make her throw one of her temper tantrums. Thankfully, because she's floating around in the pool she has become so fond of, it's more than a mild annoyance, but not enough to make her say "screw you" out loud. There is, however, a moment where she chooses to continue to be stubborn and not do any of the things they have been instructed.

For about ten minutes, she continues to ignore it. But it's her conversation with Pidge that brings her eyes open and she stares at the ceiling with a frown. Dammit. That freaking kid.

So when she gets to the briefing room, being probably the last one, she's still wet but carrying her datapad and notebook (and she even threw on her clothes, though not shoes. Good going.). Parker takes the furthest seats and flips the datapad open, not yet having read anything, but doing so as the alien speaks. Her hand writes something on the notebook as she does.

Her eyes flicker up when Rhan mentions ideals. She stares at the pair for a second, before shaking her head with an eyeroll, but doesn't say anything-- not yet. She writes down something, always using pen and paper rather than the datapad.

It's quiet immediately after the speech until, from the back, her voice comes - rough and probably the first time that it has been used today: ]

What did you work so hard last year on?

( IV.B SIVA'CO ) I got fifteen bucks worth of savior faire.

[ Her (honestly far too many) waking hours are divided between the library, the pool and the Training Wing, when it's less occupied - moreso lately with the problems the EXO-8 has been giving her. Parker pops by when there are less people; she has come to terms with the fact she will never be alone in this area, but she can't really give up on another distraction of hers. Nor stop exercising - that, at least, will take her mind off of things (without ever allowing herself to break focus from her walls being up).

She's using the foam mats nearby to practice her ground parkour-- using no obstacles but the floor to move around the area she has defined as her working space. Usually, this is a less laboured exercise, but with the pain in her back, Parker is struggling on performing some of her more basic flips. She misses one of her backflips when there's a jolt that shoots through her - something she can't avoid masking as well as she wants to - and falls on her back with a loud, dry noise. She groans through closed teeth, mixture of pain and annoyance, kicking in frustration one of the fallen foam obstacles across the mat, until it slides over to Siva'co. ]

( WILDCARD. )

[ I'm game if you're game. ]

III.

[isorropia]

[Rhan turns her dark eyes to Parker and nods in acknowledgement. Another tap to the side of the databox and the image shifts to a basic map with a thousand little points of indexing. With a sweep of her fingers, Rhan highlights one and taps it open to display additional - and copious - indexed information.]

Scouting. We're the first hosts to ever go to this universe, which means mapping and cultural studies and learning the common language. Our eyes and ears are why you won't be up a creek when you get there. Hard to do covert operations when you can't ask where the potty is, right?

[She laughs, shrugs.]

We were tasked with collating information, identifying a need and building mission parameters to achieve that need. Believe me, if our brood could've handle this on its own we wouldn't have asked for back up. It's a sensitive situation, but we need the number on the ground as much as we need... [A little melodious hum, the soft subharmonics of her voice vibrating through the shape of her jaw.] Let's go with 'discretion.'

oops i forgot to say that anyone can ride on this thread as much as they want

[unfavoured]

[ Parker keeps her eyes on the data and her notebook every time she writes something down. She does make a face at the joke; it's not Rhan's fault, Parker's humour just shrivelled up and died a while ago.

Her hand makes a gesture that seems to be one of double underlining something. She glances up again before Rhan's finished talking, giving her a frown. She writes something down again. She's still writing something as she speaks: ]

So what does "the enemy" want?

[ She doesn't do the airquotes, but they're definitely there in her tone. ]

[isorropia]

[Rhan makes a small noise like a laugh in the back of her throat and tosses a look in Siva'co's direction. Her raised browline says to him what her mouth doesn't: What're they teaching these kids?]

Well in this case, I'd say they probably want the Nectar. But how that shakes out for this universe a thousand years down the line, I can't tell you. But that's how it always is. They come to a place, they make something happen, and then somewhere else something changes and it gets more dangerous for us.

[unfavoured]

[ Parker doesn't look up from the notebook, ] Yes, I got that. [ Her tone is kept even, if tired. ] I meant, in general. [ She sets the pen down for a second, but doesn't let go of it. She straightens up, trying to adjust a position where her back isn't killing her. ]

Do they want to destroy the world? Or do they just, [ Her hand makes a vague gesture, as if pointing to nowhere. ] What's their point?

[isorropia]

If we knew that, I'd be drinking palosian blues with a little umbrella in it on a beach right now. [Rhan sighs and shifts forward in her chair.]

Look-- what's your name? I'd love to tell you I knew exactly what their point is, but all I know is that they're in this universe for a reason and that reason seems to be getting their sticky little fingers on this stuff the Hyrypians have. Maybe the people they're working with need it to accomplish something that they like. Or maybe they want to crack open a bunch of Hyrypian skulls and figure out how to use it for themselves so they can take it somewhere else and kick another group of Hosts around with it. [That one seems unlikely, but as long as they're throwing shanxu at the wall--]

What the Enemy wants is bad for me which means I like getting in their way. Don't overthink it. You'll give yourself a headache.

[decommission]

[ He's got the datapad in his hands, skimming over paragraphs he's already read a few times now. There's a sense that he's distracted, forcing his focus upward while fresh loss wraps around his ankles tries to tempt him in the other direction. He half hears the conversation as it starts, interrupting Parker before she can respond - ]

Does the Enemy have some kind of tell we can look for? Have you gone up against them face to face before?

[unfavoured]

[ The last thing she would have expected to be an intergalactic similarity would definitely be cocktails with tiny umbrellas. It catches her off-guard, enough to make her look at the alien with a weird "what the heck" expression. She opens her mouth to, probably, tell her that it's not that different from getting a parasite in your head, but nobody wants to hear that again. And Good Guy Steve is there to interrupt her.

She tongues the inside of her cheek, shifting her position to write something down, glancing over to Steve a few rows ahead. ]

[isorropia]

[Quiet up until now, Siva'co tips his head to Steve, his green eyes inscrutable. Unlike his companion he does not trade looks with his partner.]

None we know. They may have been here for years. Rabadoceans are very- [there is a pause, upper lip pulling down to cover his fangs] varied. To know what is quirk and what is a tell is a trick we do not know. Expect that their cover could be better than yours.

[decommission]

[ He frowns at the datapad, lifting his gaze after a moment. ]

And if they catch a whiff of us, taking us out and potentially getting exposed while they're at it is more important than keeping their cover? [ The question being: is killing Hosts more important to the Enemy than following through with a covert plan years in the making? Rhan says the Enemy gets what they want either way, but that doesn't seem to play out right. ]

[isorropia]

[Rhan pulls a face, tapping the side of the datacube with her long fingernail. It bounces back to the map overview.]

I guess that all depends on how they're feeling. But if it were me in their shoes and I wanted us dead, all I'd do was make sure someone knew were were some kind of alien invasion force. This universe doesn't know what life looks like if it isn't a Rabadocean derivative and somehow I don't feel like being exposed as creatures from beyond the universe would really go great for us. Not that you aren't pretty, of course.

[She winks at him. --And at Parker.]

But barring that? Sure. Why not. It might be worth it to their long game to kill thirty plus of us. I guess it depends on how important the Nectar is to them - whether it's more valuable than gutting the Nest's forces is. Knowing what we do about them, which is essentially nothing, is that really a chance you want to take?

[unfavoured]

[ Parker glances back up at Steve when he asks his second question, makes a face that's relatively close to a smile, only she's still dead inside. Flipping a page over, she reads over a note she wrote down from before while Rhan was talking, and holds it there, while taking more notes while the white alien speaks.

She mumbles something in regards the alien invasion comment, along the lines of Aren't you?, but more to herself than anyone else. She still has her head down, writing whatever she deems important on her little notebook.

Parker looks up again when she stops talking and tilts her head. ]

So what's your focus? [ ... She probably should be taught to speak more than two words at a time. ] Out the others, or protect the Rabads--people. [ How speak. ]

[isorropia]

Neither.

[The response is instant, before even the quick-tongued Rhan can respond.]

The mission is to prevent the party that the enemy is supporting from gaining control of the Nectar. Revealing them for what they are risks revealing us. This is a covert operation.

[isorropia]

[He ignores her.

She is not unique in this. There were things that required his attention and things that did not. Right now his attention is on the things he has not been able to do over the long many days he has been away. The Station had facilities that could not be found in wilder space, and his training has suffered for it, not that anyone but him would notice. Alien as he is, he certainly does not look in poor shape.

The noise draws his attention, the slightest tip of his chin, a glance, the flare of his nostrils- but little else until the foam block comes bumping against his machine. Then it requires his attention.

He turns it off- a simple press against the handle and intent- and waits until it stops. Then he steps off, bends to pick up the block, and takes it back to the racks they rest in when not in use.

When he is finished, he returns to his previous position without a word to her, stepping up onto the treadmill again and turning it back on.]

[unfavoured]

[ The majority of people here are, as far as she can tell, human or relatively human-looking. They all probably look as alien to him as he does to them.

Parker sits up with effort, wincing at the pain in her back. She wipes her brow with her hand, leaning forward on her bent knees. Slightly slumped forward, she looks up as the noise of the treadmill stops. She watches him pick up the black and putting on the rack with a frown, and then back on the treadmill.

She sighs through her mouth. ]

You and your partner-- [ She says, out of the blue. ] Are you two travelling alone?

[isorropia]

[His eyes flick down to the readout on the treadmill, still running for a short time, gait obviously inhuman. But after a moment it slows into a trot and he slows in turn.]

Here yes. Collector and Lyr are not needed for this.

[He offers no more, at least not immediately, but after a moment he says, apropos of nothing-] Will your infirmity be an issue in the field?

[unfavoured]

[ His silence offers her an opportunity to get in something more: ] No, not here. [ She really should start making herself clearer, but that means practice and the last thing she does is practice how to socialise with other people. ] I mean, [ She pauses, trying to look for a word that doesn't creep her out. ] Something like this Station.

[ She doesn't mind the long pause, she does them herself, and but she does get annoyed at the question. ]

You don't have to worry about that.

[isorropia]

I do not understand. Rephrase.

[The words fall blunt and unsoftened into the space between the whirring treadmill and the foam mat, even as he turns to face forward again, the machine kicking up into a higher gear.]

So it will not affect your performance?

[His ears tip slightly back, chin drawing lower. Some kind of sublte emotion not instantly readable. The slightest hint of irritation from his mind- a quiet background hum.[

[unfavoured]

[ Honestly, she is more comfortable with the bluntness of his speech and his irritation at her inability to speak in people's words than people taking what she says and giving it a different meaning.

However, once she feels that subtle hum, the way it inches close to her mind, she quickly shuts off. Pushes up all the walls she has learned to bring up around her. It is still, after all this time, deeply uncomfortable for her. She hates it.

Parker wipes her nose against the back of her forearm, trying to rephrase it as an adult. Ugghh. ]

I said don't worry about it. [ She says, before trying again: ] You, and Rhan, and the two others. Are you all a brood-- or are you part of a place like this one, with a lot of them? Who's giving you orders?

[isorropia]

[If he even notes her hastily thrown up walls, it certainly doesn't show, nor does it affect his own low mental feedback, the slight beat of his own blood pumping in his chest.]

If it will affect your performance, it is my concern. Our effectiveness in the field is reliant upon our knowledge, understanding, and proper use of all active personnel.

[There is a staccato to his voice that matches the beat of his feet on the treadmill. Accurate to a fault.]

We are part of this place. We are agents. Prince and Cathaway would have told you this.

[To say that he does not seem talkative is an understatement.]

[unfavoured]

You won't have to worry about my performance on the field at all.

[ He reminds her of the old military instructors she has, and not at all with any fondness. She figures it's either part of his background or that's the way the people of his kind are. He's alien. What would she know about that?

Parker rolls her eyes at his answer. She thought for a moment maybe he would offer something else. Something different, more straightforward. Less beating around the subject. Clearer than some-- hedonist purpose. Maybe exactly because of the way he shows himself to be, no bullshit. Hope dies last, even in someone suffering from depression.

No luck, though. ]

So, a cosmic bigger-than-life force. [ She sighs tiredly, dropping her head to rub the back of her neck, just below the line of her shirt where the scar down to the base of her spine begins. ] Of course. How could I forget?

[isorropia]

[He does not answer that, but he does not find it a satisfactory answer. That is clear enough for anyone looking.

Instead he runs, the machine kicking up a gear, his gait changing to match, a minute later it slows, cooling down until he is left standing flat on it, breathing out through his nose in long huffs of breath.]

It is not big. This is more Hosts than I have seen here at one time.

[He turns away from her as he steps off the machine, heading towards a stack of weights, flexing his wrists and popping his black-nailed hands.]

[unfavoured]

[ A taste of their own medicine, she would say - she doesn't say it.

The tip of her fingers trace, up and down, the skin that has been dead for years now. It is whiter than any part of her, thin and sinuous, and could almost disappear under the skin. The feeling of it to her finger makes her mind focus. She hears the machine slow to a halt, but still does not look. His words make her frown and her hand slowly stops, then drops off her neck.

It is only when he steps off to the weights that she looks up, looking at him walking over to it. ]

How many more Stations are there?

[isorropia]

I can't answer that. I have seen no evidence of another functioning station.

[He studies the weights for a long moment before lifting two- one in each hand, weighting them before beginning a series of careful curls, not looking back at Parker and her stillness.]

Why do you care?

[Blunt, even as he shifts to raise the weights to shoulder height, pressing upward.]

[unfavoured]

[ So, none. Or a lot. Somewhere in between the nothingness and the everything. Helpful answers as always. It grates on her to see them all just trust so blindly, but maybe it is part of a frustration that she cannot. Like religion, like belief. And maybe they are better people for it, maybe they aren't, she doesn't know and that is the point - she doesn't know, but she wants to.

Parker sighs and looks away, to the wall in front of her. A frown settle on her forehead. She will probably not be able to grow as old as that, but if she does get to old age, she will be a faceful of deep wrinkles. ]

Why don't you? [ She asks, matching the bluntness of it. ]