station72 | [MISSION: HYRYPIA] the moon drops one or two feathers into the field

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

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Weren't you the one who told him people were stupid for not adapting, Asuka? ]

Bellamy's right. You said you got a degree in theoretical physics? That's probably one more than a lot of people have, maybe you can make some sense of how their technomancy works and figure out their ships.

[ Asuka falls into silence, a shimmering sensation of resentment and frustration settling around her. But she's not giving any more lip, at least. Buried underneath it is the tiniest sliver of shame, but that's probably not going anywhere. ]

If physics work the same way in this universe, sure. I mean, it should, but I'm not really a mechanic or an engineer, anyway.

[ She sounds a bit more muted, at least. ]

Edited 2017-07-03 21:10 (UTC)

[If a teenager leaning heavily toward planetary destruction disturbs Rhan, it certainly doesn't show on her face. Instead she just smiles at Asuka, then twists around in her chair to Siva'co.] Lyr's going to love that one.

[--And then she turns back again.]

Who else is worried about how they're going to be useful on this job? Any specific concerns? Big problems you're anticipating? You brief us - you all know each other and yourselves much better than we know you.

[ Asuka gets one (1) look from Misato. A stern and considering one, close to a glare but not quite, close to concerned but without the warmth. Then she looks away, back at Rhan, to raise her hand like the good girl in the classroom. ]

I'm good with government officials and juggling their different interests and getting what I need from them. [ She's literally the UN. ] But I'm no spy, like many of us, and it takes only one of us to blow our cover for this to go sideways. You'll need to teach us a thing or two.

[ He's still radiating irritation from the second round of Plan Z conversation. ]

I can draw and sculpt, if there's anyone in the other envoys vain enough to sit for reference portraiture.

[ Could separate individuals of interest from their larger retinues. ]

[ The Collector-- Collector, that is, is what draws most of her interest. She has spent hours in the library looking for anything at all, but she's come up on frustrated and empty handed so far.

Parker looks back and forth between the people talking, leaning an arm back against the chair. Her ankle sets on her knee, idly moving it up and down without much concern for the mission or raising a hand on any of those accounts.

Her eyes glaze over Asuka when she goes all in with the crazy genocide option, tilting her head, but not saying anything. She looks over to Steve, to the back of his head. She wonders what's gotten him in a mood, half distracted as the volunteering goes around which she seems as likely to take part on as she is inclined in diving into mindspeak. ]

It's a closed field, isn't it? [ She says, still looking at Steve, but not really addressing anyone in particular. ] The more people you have acting as spies, the more likely it is you're going to get caught. [ She shrugs, not overly concerned. ] If you're able to talk, you're better off than sneaking around.

Edited (wonky esl wording) 2017-07-03 23:55 (UTC)

[He does not answer her statement- not out loud at least, but he faces her for a second- a singular focus that seems to last just long enough to provide a response to that supposition.]

There will be more to do than talk. The Pilgrimage will come with it's own challenges and it's own dangers. Collector has not managed to uncover exactly what it will entail, but I anticipate difficulty.

[His ear flicks, a flare of his nostrils-] Do not forget these people are at war.

[Attracted to the conversation by talk of genocide, Seviilia takes the opportunity to finally speak up from her place on the outside of the circle.]

War indeed. You should prepare for your cover to be blown -- better not to be caught without a dagger up your sleeve when the other's blade comes for you.

[Her arms slide across one another, dragging plate armor across plate armor. Her hood sits at her shoulders, rather than over her head as per usual.]

So. Spies, diplomats, and acting nobility. Should not be too difficult, then. After all, we're an experienced group when it comes to espionage, no?

[Sarcasm? Maybe. She herself was not exactly known for subtlety. An insurance policy surely could not hurt them.]

Edited (i used words too many times) 2017-07-04 06:50 (UTC)

Wouldn't you know it, we've actually got a couple of those for you. Daggers, I mean. You all know how those work, right? Pointy part goes into the soft parts. More nicely, we'll make sure to equip you to deal with slip ups a little more subtly as well. I love a pile of corpses as much as the next person, but like bright eyes over here said - we've a rather narrow playing field and I'd rather not leave us a bunch of bodies to trip over if it can be avoided.

[Not that she doesn't appreciate the sentiment of course.]

Now how about this. What if we were to say the Carbauschians of this particular envoy tend to fall into three distinct categories: diplomats, aides and their retinue of body guards? A diplomat might be a government official or sometime titled; an aide might be anyone with a particular education or skill. A body guard-- [she flicks a look up and down Seviilia] --well. I realize this is speaking broadly, but sometimes I find it helps to begin painting with a broad brush at first.

Can we all identify with one of those kinds of people?

[ It takes a stretch of the imagination even for one as brazenly optimistic as Misato to picture this group of half-willing and unwilling people as a cohesive group of professional envoys. And this is only step one.

She raises her hand, again, and keeps it up as she speaks. ]

We need a fourth: some tag-along party outside of the actual envoy, like an ombuds or some kind of jury made of civilians or children of powerful Carbauschians tagging along for the ride. All of the above. It's for those who don't much care about the mission, so they can have their freedom without damaging the envoy's reputation directly -- and, it might help us later on, if we're ever found playing the factions against one another, we can say it was never our official stance.

[ Just to be clear, she was definitely not talking about herself. Clearly. She would be the last person anyone wants on the line to talk diplomacy unless the intention was to make the war explode.

She sighs through her nose at Siva'co's answer, which only adds to more question marks.

All this mention of genocide and murder is leaving her a little sick; she gets that she's the asshole, but at least she hasn't spoken so freely about straight up stabbing people.

And directly after Misato, she offers: ]

Then you ought to get an official one. Offer argument, even if weak to not to sway the scale in your favour - or sway it hard enough to have them reveal themselves in their scheme.

[He makes a noise, a snorting sound- dismissive, perhaps, annoyed. Maybe laughter, it is hard to tell with the distortion a second set of nostrils cause in the sound.]

She flatters you. Servants. A better position for gathering information. Carbauschians may be a mystery but servants are not. And they are not expected to speak.

[Which may be a difficulty for this group.]

Otherwise, family. All Rabadoceans have strong and extended family structures. Use them, and use the mystery of your cover.

[Seeming to find that settled, he turns his attention to the the whole of the group.]

To be caught at the game is to be expected- that is the reason they are all there. They will expect some of you to be self-serving. They will expect that you to smile only on one side of your face. They will expect you to have a knife in your other hand and a scheme on your mind, just as they do. You can be caught as politicians. Do not be caught as Hosts.

[A tip of her head for Seviilia's tone. Take the words right out of her mouth.]

I'll volunteer for bodyguard.

[Shepard's been quiet, up until now, propping up a wall. The options aren't good-- best case scenario involves cloak and dagger and political coups, the kind of thing that is unsatisfying impermanent. But the worst case is... Well, whatever anyone else is thinking isn't an option. Shepard's not afraid to take the plunge, and she's certainly not afraid to die in the process, not that that's the plan.]

Actually, if we're being honest, the last time someone asked me to do anything 'covert' it blew an entire colony planet to ash, so it's probably best to give me an easy job until this all inevitably goes to hell. I know my limits. [This with a significant, red-eyed glance at Asuka.] Menacing thug? I can do that.

[At all of five-foot-three by god she can.]

Great. [Murphy rolls his eyes.] Anyone here who's saved a planet, or are we just all somewhere on the killed a bunch of people scale?

[He isn't discounting himself in that commentary.]

Parker's right. [Parker who he's never spoken to before, but: names travel.] We need to come up with why the Car-booshes want the stuff, why we think we should have it, and what we'll give for it. Or we're going to look like dumbasses, and all the other teams are going to start wondering why we're there.

[Just as easy a way to draw attention as making too much noise.]

[Anyone here who's saved a planet--?]

[He puts his hand up. Because of course he does. Saved a planet? Check. The Balmera totally counts.]

Good point. What do we know about why the other teams want the Nectar? Anything?

[A beat, before he adds:] I'll join the bodyguard team, too. If nothing else, I probably look the part.

[Casually, but without malice, Shepard lifts a middle finger at Murphy. Screw you too, buddy.]

[Rhan raises a finger. Whether she's joining Shiro on the planet saving count or merely hitting in isn't terribly clear, but it's not like any of this is serious, right?]

Us Car-boosh don't have a hope under the twin suns to win the Nectar. We're there to craft an alliance with the people who do. Which is why we get to talk to everyone and make deals with all of the above. The Hyrypians won't give it to anyone except the big three - anything else would be suicide. So we've a very clear reason to make nice with everyone in the room - along with, of course, a half dozen other minor delegate groups. No one wants to be on the wrong side when someone wins the war, right?

As for why they want the Nectar-- it's the key to winning the war, darling. Which means a lot of land and resources for the victor. They all have very complicated reasons for wanting to win the war, though I suspect it more or less boils down to those two. It usually does.

[She waves her hand, easy and dismissive. Let's focus away from planet killing and moral questions, yes? They've debated the point enough.]

I like this idea of group A and B though. All the officials and their staff, then all their entitled relatives and servants. Gossip is as useful to us as official conversations. Maybe even more so.

[ Adra's just been listening for the most part. He sits, cross-legged and floating, as though he'd been trying to meditate and was interrupted. His eyes are half-shut throughout most of the conversation. And then, mildly -- ]

I've helped save a few planets, a time or two.

[ As ever, his voice is warm. Measured, but deep, with a firmness that belies his very small frame. ]

More importantly, I was something of a politician. Seems like that's a necessary skillset here.

[ He was better at fiery rhetoric than peaceful negotiation, true. But he is at least somewhat tempered from those days.

He exhales slowly, trying to keep his lip from curling. ]

We have to schmooze.

[ Aloy's hand finally shoots up. ]

I stopped Earth from being stripped of life. [ Again. ]

I think I would be better suited for a bodyguard or other role, though. I've had to talk people into working with me but I'm not... That's not what I do well. I'm a hunter, a warrior.

More than anything, we must be prepared to adapt. There should be someone who can seem as if he's untrustworthy so that he can be excused from that. This is where Murphy might excel. Being obvious will paint a picture of what someone might expect. [This is something that is both praise and the very opposite of that. If nothing else, she at least respects the fact that Murphy survived the chaos in the wake of her passing. It might have a purpose here.

Essentially, she's saying that Murphy can be their Varys.]

I'm better served as an official, and one that is willing to do what I must to protect my people. Our face should be that of someone hoping to find an alliance so that we can survive without being swept away and forgotten in this war. In the end, there's some truth to it as who we are as Hosts: we are here to end the Enemy so that they can pose no threat to us or our people. Whether that means the Nest or the people we left at home doesn't matter. It's up to you, and there's enough truth to it.

As it is, if anyone has a problem with following me, even for the sake of the mission, we can work that out before we leave. [She's capable of being a diplomat, but one with a great deal more power than her ambassadors were accustomed to, so it's better for her to be in a more powerful position. If nothing else, she knows she'll act that part perfectly.]

[Seviilia shrugs to Lexa's reply. She imagines they all agree on the need for cooperation, even if it was easier in idea than in practice. She mentally counts off who has assigned themselves to what branch, and fills in the gaps with her own assumptions based on the appearance of those around her.]

It seems we may have an excess of...muscle.

['Muscle' is used someone sarcastically, and she shifts her broad shoulders.]

Two to each player of nobility? Or shall we take shifts?

Two to each would do, though hiding them among the "servants" wouldn't be a bad idea. I doubt that we would be the only group to do that.

[Lexa assumes that any politicians think the same way as her, so ...

In this case, she's fairly certain that cultural differences wouldn't come in the way of that.]

I will not play a servant.

[Simple and final, but without anger. She'd been a servant for enough years to abhore the idea of even playing at one. But rather than say as much, she folds her arms to offer another reply.]

I would not pass.

I don't think I would, either. Maybe more than Seviila would, but I don't think I'm built for it.

[A shrug. He wouldn't mind doing it, if need be, but the physical structure is probably too telling.]

It doesn't bother me, playing one, if it comes down to it.

I said nothing of all the warriors being servants. The ones who pass more easily may slip into that role. [There's a hint of impatience to her tone.]

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