[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

[isorropia]

[The pale alien is hauling what's clearly a heavy bag from the deck to her shoulder, but pauses and straightens as Misato calls out to them. Any excuse to put off heavy lifting for a few more seconds, right?]

Places to go, people to see, clothes to change out of. The usual.

[Come to think of it-- she reaches up and begins to work open the buttons of the heavy cloak.]

You're not here to check our papers, are you? Because I seem to have left them in my other pants.

[isorropia]

[The other one- taller, rangier, turns to look back at Misato, for only the shortest second, before reaching down to grab his own bag- and the second. For all that she springs immediately to speak, it is not until he has both raised in long arms that he turns his attention back to the conversation.]

We don't have time for games Rhan.

[His voice is a stark contrast, without the harmonics of her own, clipped and low, and just slightly nasally.]

Unless you are going to change here.

[wille]

If you've found your way here, the papers don't matter, right?

[ Misato gets the joke -- gets that it is a joke -- only when the taller alien speaks up, and she frowns to herself in embarrassment. Not that it stops her from stepping closer to him, thinking he's the one she needs to win over to keep them from rushing off. Her excitement is palpable and obvious on her face, like a child, no, a puppy hearing the sound of its leash being taken out of storage, already imagining the great outdoors. ]

You're looking for Prince and Cathaway? Do you have news? Are you taking us somewhere?

[isorropia]

Boy, we've got a live one here don't we?

[She tosses a sidelong look to Siva'co while undoing the rest of the cloak clips. Losing a layer or two right here on the hangar deck won't kill anyone, least of all her sweaty underarms.

Rhan slips the cloak from her shoulders and loops it over her arm. The tunic under it is equally dense, layered high to her throat and falling to her knee. It's heavily embroidered and every scalloped edged cut out reveals a different patterned fabric layered beneath it.]

Let's keep this short and say 'all of the above.' Have you seen dear old Cathy and Crown anywhere?

[A superfluous question. They're not that hard to find.]

[isorropia]

[His own cloak seems to hang especially awkwardly with both bags held as high as they are, but unlike her he does not attempt to remove it. Possibly because he has no free hands.

And perhaps that is enough motivation to explain the way he turns tail toward one of the hangar's exists and starts walking, shouldering both bags effectively and moving past Misato. For all that he had nothing to add, he was clearly confident that Rhan could accomplish walking and talking at the same time. ]

[wille]

[ Rhan has got nothing on Misato when it comes to sweatiness, let's be real, and she maintains total disregard for her own state -- white slacks and all, the messiest ponytail, hair sticking to her face. When Siva'co walks past, she takes it as a chance to tag along, reaching out to grab one of the bags from him. ]

I'll help you with that--

[ An attempt, poor one or not, to have them indulge her for longer. ]

Where did you come from dressed like that? What's it like there?

[isorropia]

[He does not immediately surrender the bag, lifting it slightly higher and away from her questing hands. He does, however, shove the other one across his body and out towards her, giving her very little time to get a grip on it before he releases it. It is heavy, Misato.]

There will be a briefing shortly.

[A closed case, if the flatness of his tone is any sign- which it may not be. The flatness of his mind is more- he does not want to repeat himself. There would be no benefit.]

[isorropia]

[Rhan chuckles, the subharmonic sound vibrating pleasantly through the frills of her jaw and neck. But she makes no excuses for her companion. Instead, Rhan nods to the bag in Misato's hands.]

Prince will want that in the equipment locker. Would you be so kind?

[Somewhere exciting, she might have said. Somewhere dangerous. But let's not spoil the surprise, shall we? Besides - rumor is useful. Let her be curious.]

[huntsmachines]

[ Occasionally, Aloy likes to wander down to the hangar. There's something amazing and intriguing about all the quiet vessels there. It feels strange and imposing in a way, almost like the machines from back home. She's wandering there now when she catches the strange feeling of new minds and a touch of Misato's annoyance and surprise. She breaks into a slow job and enters the hangar with a blaze of bright hair marking her arrival. She pauses, coming up short as she studies the strange aleins for a moment. Looks between them and Misato. ]

New arrivals?

[wille]

[ Siva'co why are you like this. Misato manages, just, to keep the bag and herself from falling to the floor, maneuvering it to rest against her back to better distribute the weight and keep up. Aloy's arrival is met with a smile. An ally! Maybe she can ask the better questions. ]

We'll take you to Prince and Cathaway. [ An offer so confidently made, as if the guardians are that hard to find and the favor has any value. ] But you can at least tell us who you are first.

[isorropia]

[If he is surprised by the new addition he does not show it, and his pace certainly does not slow, threatening to leave the others behind should they tarry.]

We are not new.

[It should sound petty, but it doesn't. It sounds like fact.

He tips his face down to look at Misato, a flick of his ear-] Good. You can take us to them after we visit the barracks. I am Siva'corran-Tarvana Sit Septi'An.

[The rest he seems content to leave in the other's hands, even as he strides out into the hall.]

[isorropia]

Ah, there he goes. [She sighs after him, then motions to the two of them with an arched eyebrow - it's a clear indication that they follow along as she strides to catch up with her companion.]

I'm Rhan. Just Rhan. Much easier, I should think.

[As for who they are? Well, it's obvious isn't it? Who could they be. Honestly, don't ask silly questions darling.]

Aren't you just two flowers from the same stem. Is the uniform long hair these days? Siva'co, I think we might be out of fashion.

[huntsmachines]

I'm Aloy

[ Aloy hurries to catch up with the others as they set off. Misato gets a curious, almost uncertain glance as they go. ]

I don't know if I'd call us flowers from the same stem just because of our hair, though.

[ For one thing, Misato is... older. ]

[wille]

Siva'corran-Tar-- . . . Rhan.

[ Never mind. She'll try that name on her tongue again next time, when she isn't trying to keep up with both of them while carrying a load that somehow grows heavier by the moment. It doesn't cross her mind to ask for help, instead shifting it from one shoulder to the next to halve the suffering.

Aloy, so the girl's name is Aloy, how embarrassing that she didn't know that before, too busy cooped up in her own space. She turns back to Rhan, brows knitted, choosing her words. ]

A lot of us here are humans. [ The small smile on her face is hardly apologetic. ] Sorry, you might find the Station's kinda bent to the way we like things.

[isorropia]

[He has no answer for Rhan's flippant comment- at least none out loud, but as he makes a sharp turn at one of the branching hallways- directly towards the Life Support Wing, he does slow just enough to answer Misato- if answer was the correct word.]

Yes, many humans. We have heard.

[Close enough to the same stem, in comparison to Siva'co, tall and rangy and tawny furred where the heavy garments don't cover, and Rhan, who is at least a similar shape, if nothing else.]

Rhan, how much time do you need?

[Almost impatient, jumping ahead to match his quick step.]

[isorropia]

[She laughs, the sound vibrating like a tuning fork in the yellowed frills at her jaw. Isn't this a ridiculous little party, all of them charging along after Siva'co's pace? Her own legs are too short for this nonsense; she's relieved when he deigns to shorten his stride.]

An hour? I've a very important date with a real bath. [A wildly unnecessary detail, but she has a particular fondness for those.] Sorry girls, it appears the man's in a hurry.

[--Oh but there he goes again. She huffs and stubbornly refuses to lengthen her gait to match.] Which means - two questions from each of you. Three, two, one, go.