station72 | [MISSION: HYRYPIA] And through that cordage threading with its call one arc synoptic of all tides

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[MISSION: HYRYPIA] And through that cordage threading with its call one arc synoptic of all tides

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: Station 72; Naerstone House
WHEN: DAY :001
SUMMARY: Makeovers, wining, dining and...dead bodies??? The first night on Hyrypia.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

CASTING OFF
     I. MAKEOVER, MAKEOVER
[It's less than one full day after the briefing that the hosts once again have a voice interrupt their thoughts. It is familiar this time: the curt, low sound of Siva’co in their mind without warning.]

( There is- ) [the passage of time pressed into their minds like a flower into a book- one hour-] ( until departure. All hosts will report to the Hangar Deck for supply and outfitting. ) [He does not say precisely when they should report, but something about the weight of the words says sooner rather than later.

When the hosts arrive there is a strangely antiquated looking ship waiting for them, its rivets and steel in bizarre contrast with the seamless white flow of the Station’s walls. Its gangplank is already lowered, but before they can pass into the interior there is a raised platform manned by Rhan and Siva’co. Once again clad they're clad in the layered robes that Misato and Aloy had seen them in. On the platform there are stacks of similarly lush and contrasting fabrics, one for each host, each one a neat pile topped with a pair of odd boots that give the impression of heels.]

There will be no space on the ship to kit up. You will need to outfit yourself before we depart. If you cannot figure out how to dress yourselves, get assistance.

[His voice is clipped, sharp and precise. It does not invite conversation. The slightest survey of the deck reveals that there is no kind of privacy provided, which may explain the crooked grin on Rhan’s face.]

     II. IN FLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT
[Once aboard the ship there is little time before the deck of Station 72 drops out beneath them, lowering them down and out and into the still darkness of the in between.

They stay there, frozen for a second before the engines kick on - a low efficient hum, no apparent feeling of motion to accompany it. After a moment another much louder noise begins. It's a gurgling, creaking sound that seems more suited to the ship’s exterior appearance.

Siva’co remains where he has been since they boarded, poised beside a panel just to the left of the hatch to the exterior where he's checking a number of crisp readouts. They're digital black and white like the databanks held by all hosts and are completely out of place in the ship's leather and wood interior. After a moment, seemingly satisfied, he reaches down and snaps the display shut - holding his hand there as a glow spreads around the edge of the panel the fades into a seamless fusing into the interior walls, just another section of brass and pipe and spinning dials. He moves through the cabin then, down the rows of seats and towards the cockpit, nodding to Rhan as he passes her.

She seems to take it as a sign, standing up as he disappears with a dip of his head under the low bulkhead of the hatchway. She drags a heavy bag out from under her seat and drops it with a thunk.]

Well my dears, we've a few hours ahead of travel ahead of us. I hope everyone brought along something to read. If you're feeling bored, might I suggest swapping notes on the mission briefing? You've brought your highlighters along, right?

[She grins, flashing an encouraging wink.] --Oh! And before I forget, I've a little present for you all from myself and Siva'co.

[Rhan reaches into the bag, producing a series of ancient looking books.] Take one and pass it down. [She hands one to the nearest Host. The books are shockingly light... because they've been hollowed out into the perfect shape to conceal a databank.] This way you can keep your cheat sheets with you at all times. I've decided we're all very religious -- or at least that we have the pretense of it.

[As promised, the trip in is indeed long. It takes them through vast reaches of real space. It's quiet and still - the perfect atmosphere to get some last minute studying in.]

HYRYPIA
     [At a distance, Hyrypia is a world made of gold and brass banded with iron. As the Host ship pierces down through the atmosphere, the colors morph and curve into hard stone, bitter scrub, black seas, and beautiful - but barren - golden waves of long valley grasses. White stones and squat farmhouses speck the landscape which slants as if inevitable toward the glittering pastel household acting as sentinel at the landmass's edge where today a hundred brilliantly colored banners and flags fly from every tower and gate, are wound through every garden and adorning every tent on the grounds surrounding it.

Naerstone House sits at the eye of a veritable flock of ships of every design and taste. They range from delicate as a rapier to solid as a stone, from as slight as this small ship the Hosts have used for their transport to large enough to cast a shadow across the entire structure of the compound. The yellowed grasses bend and shake in the shadow of them as they drop from the sky and the Hyrypians stuffed on the gray road leading to Naerstone from the valley hold their clothes against the energy dispersal from the engines. The host ship touches down in the fields in a place marked out with blue and yellow flags, just one of scores.

Welcome to the corner of Hyrypia where hundreds upon hundreds of varied Rabadoceans have met under a flag of peace for perhaps the first time in two centuries. As the gangway to the platform is lowered, it becomes immediately apparent that Rhan and Siva'co's companions have come to meet you. Completely obscured from head to toe, there's no telling what they look like, but surely they must be familiar to the agents, as no one asks questions when one of them hurries aboard.]

[Lyr's mind is cool like a river stone, though in this moment the river is being chopped by rainfall:]

( Half of you - the ones who know how to speak - follow me in the procession to the Veranda. The other half - take everyone's things and go with Collector. )

SPLIT THE PARTY
     III. THE PROCESSION AND VERANDA
[Lyr leads the hosts in his company to join the long, winding procession making its way up they gray road to Naerstone. They are all recognizably Rabadocean, though their styling and some mutations of their biology separates them into clear subsets. Here is a group with elaborate cloaks of liquid silver billowing as flags in the acrid sea wind; there is a group dressed in thick rich furs, huddled close for warmth and trying not to look it as they make their way. Everyone travels on foot through the field of ships, the village of brilliantly colored silken tents, and everywhere one looks is another strange collection of people to stare at. --And some of them may be staring back.

The grand procession winds its way through the main entrance of the sky blue compound, through brilliant open breezeways painted with frescos of four legged animals, lush vegetation, and threads of light. Eventually this train of people reaches a vast garden at the center of which is a massive shallow pool with a path leading to the covered structure at its middle. THE GARDEN has clearly been decorated for a party. On one side is an apparent series of games and common entertainment, and on the other are a series of low tables and long benches dressed for an inevitable dinner studding the space between low flowering shrubs and beds of golden grass punctuated with winding stone paths.

But they bypass this all in favor of THE VERANDA itself, draped in gauzy silks and furnished with a series of low couches and delicate wood chairs with elaborately embroidered cushions. It's clear that the Veranda is where the ranking officials and their aides will start the evening. There's easy conversation to be had or overhead. Two musicians skillfully play large string instruments balanced on their knees and a series of mute servants make their way through the gathering with trays of fine finger foods and small cups of rich black wines. They're so silent and unaffected by the hosts of company that they might as well be dead.

--Which is because, on closer inspection, they apparently are. Or close to it. They've an ashen pallor and milky eyes; one or two of the re-animated dead servants wears conspicuous articles of clothing to cover the thing which killed them - a cracked skull, a terrible wound.]

( Act naturally, ) [says Lyr's voice in the mind] ( If you find yourself drowning, call for me. )

[Enjoy the appetizers and polite company, everyone! Strangely enough, it seems perfectly simple to understand the rough, low shared language of the Rabadoceans and as equally easy to mimic it.]

     IV. THE APARTMENTS AND GARDEN
[Those who remain after Lyr has departed are greeted by the second stranger. Much like Lyr, she speaks into their minds, but unlike him her voice is soft and sweet and melodic, ringing pleasantly as a bell, accenting somehow the sound of crowds and distant pulsing beat of some kind of music. She is taller than the rest, and the process of elimination says that this must be Collector.]

( Welcome to Hyrypia. I hope you will tell me your stories, when there is time. For now, please follow. )

[She turns, heading in the opposite direction as Lyr and his batch, weaving her way effortlessly through the crowds towards the largest collection of buildings on the castle grounds. Each building is connected to the rest by plain walkways through simple stone gardens with the occasional gently sloped awning. It's a longer walk then it seems like it should be, but after they pass some of the more grand rooms - most of them at least partly open to the air - they come across another low stone patio. This one Collector steps on to, passing through the wide open entry and into the half shadowed space beyond.]

( There are a number of rooms, please, take your pick. I would suggest keeping your most valuable possessions with you, but there are lockers beneath each bed. They have tales here of lovers being secreted away in them, but these should not be occupied. )

[With that thought - the bubbling cheerful ring of it - she passses through the living area, sidestepping the low piles of cushions and disappearing into one of the rooms.]

( We should join the festivities soon- ) [Her voice is as near as it would be directly into their ears, despite her absence-] ( And please, feel free to speak. Silence is only my virtue.)

[It is only a short time later that she again emerges from the room, pausing in the center of the space and pulling a bell from her sleeve, ringing it once with her gloved hands - a sharp peal that interrupts even the low background hum of the surrounding apartments.]

( We must now venture out. There are stories waiting to be made. )

[She leads the hosts out the same way they came and then further into the heat of the festivities. Here the crowd grow thicker - a myriad of Rabadoceans, some wearing intricate costumes, some in elegant garments or wearing very little. All head towards the same space - a great GARDEN at the center of which is a shallow pool and VERANDA. Clever eyes may spot the other hosts there even though the obscuring gauze. They're hard to miss in all that heavy layered cloth. It draws attention even from strangers here, some of which shoot them glances with their sharp dark eyes. Others Rabadoceans whisper as the hosts pass, but the exact words are hard to hear.

The garden itself is as sprawling as the apartments and is mainly composed of a low shrubs with pale flowers and the same amber grass that covers so much of the planet only broken by the occasional rug and twisting stone path. The largest open areas are home to what appear to be games: balls and hoops and poles. Some look like they're to be struck or thrown, others which appear to be a part of some elaborate strategy game involving the placement of people around a central pole. The Rabadoceans laugh - low coughing sounds - but you recognize them for what they are. Just as you become aware that their words - thick and mealy as they seemed at first, now sound perfectly natural. It would be easy to mimic, easy to speak. Collector smiles through her mind.]

( Go on now. You may be shy, but you must be sharp. Life waits for no soul. )

     V. A COMMON PURPOSE
[When both sides have completed their tasks - picking their rooms and playing alongside the common folk, or eating appetizers and rubbing palms with the elite - all are summoned at once to gather in the gardens together by the signal of a deep resounding horn. The two parties merge on their short trek across the garden to the long low benches. Each set of benches has an equally long table with a narrow walking path through the center of it, and as guests sort themselves into their correct places - each distinct party collected with itself - food begins to be brought out. They're sumptuous and heavily spiced dishes. Although you cannot immediately see her, Collector’s voice joins the procession-]

( You can process all of the food without risk of death, however humans may wish to avoid the eel. It will cause indigestion. They are scooped up from the shallow streams that flow out of the highest mountains, and they dine only on the passings of the cave rodents that surround such places. )

[Lively string instruments play through dinner and talk is encouraged on the fringes of each envoy. Dishes are passed from hand to hand down the length of the long table and re-animated servants pour long streams of dark wine and faintly bitter water from long necked pitchers to wide, intricately inlaid cups. And while you are clustered in with the rest of your “delegation”, there are other Rabadoceans sitting across from you- strangers with strange smiles. Food does not seem to prevent conversation. Anything you want to say without being overheard is better left in your mind- and the minds of others.]

     VI. EVENING'S END
[Evening falls. The braziers are lit. Eventually, the music of the uncanny reverberating string instruments wanes to a tinny pervasive whine that stretches long enough to rouse suspicion. Ting, comes the chime of a small metal bell. Ting, ting, ting - the sound of the metal adoring the robes and elaborate headdresses of the small group of four Hyrypians which passes now down the long path from the Veranda and into the middle of the feasting.

They come to a halt there in the burnished grass. Quiet falls, save for that pervasive buzzing whine. Finally the Hyrypian at the front lifts her hand in the dark, revealing from her belled sleeves the rows and rows of brass and gold and glass scales adorning her gloves. She breathes across her glove and for a moment it's as if the air has turned to gold. It slips glittering between her fingers, then the scales peel themselves from her hands and flitter away to reveal themselves as wings of thin intricately beaten metal with glowing glass bodies: insects with watch-gear small mechanisms powering the rapid beating of their wings. They take flight, swirling and dancing through the thin breeze. As they do, the acolytes behind her raise their own hands to reveal larger insect-lights within each palm. They toss them lightly as jugglers. At their highest peak they too take flight, elegantly pirouetting to hover over the tables and casting a warm glow over the guests who applaud, each according to their own custom. This group cheers with a low whooping sounds from one corner, that one with stomping feet, another with lightly chiming bells. The smaller lights come to land along the edges of cups, on the high peaks of guest’s hats, and on knobby wrists. The machines are small, twinkling lights held on wire fine legs and they hum with a comfortable, welcoming heat.

The leading technomancer then goes swiftly to one knee, her hand pressing into a barely visible stripe of copper that runs down the main walkway. With that, the Veranda behind them lights up suddenly and brightly like a catching flame. The light races along the branching pathways of of the garden led by similarly fine wires, and not long after the lit garden is joined by the entire castle: every castle and balcony shining brilliantly in the darkness by this lone technomancer's hand.

From one of the long central tables, an elder Hyrypian in an elaborately draped tunic and cloak picked with gold rises. She raises a mottled hand before her, palm to the summer night sky.]

Friends. [Ysiddia Cabrielle's voice is low and thick, requiring attention without demanding it. She speaks with all the ease of a Major House of Hyrypian's head - which is appropriate, for that is what she is.] Welcome to our Hyrpyria and this Naerstone House. You've done my family an honor that will persist for generations. Tonight, we know each other as strangers-- [Some measure of her smoothed facade shifts; Ysiddia has a wry smile, as if she's telling a small secret to a cherished second daughter.] --or as enemies. Tonight, we are separate peoples divided by the places we came from and the things which those places required we be. But in the weeks that follow, it's my wish - and the wish of all Hyrypians - that we remember we are all Rabadocean and that the prosperity of one is the prosperity of all. We look forward to reaching the end of this great pilgrimage not in the company of friends, but with honored family.

We hope that this journey will do for you what it has done for our people. That it brings you understanding and renewed respect for The First and all those who have followed down their path. We hope you will come to see our people’s true destiny and true strength. But for tonight and the two days that follow, we invite you to enjoy yourselves as yourselves.

[Ysiddia bows her head to the assemblage, then to the techomancer who rises. The light fades as she does - first form the distant apartment, then to these gardens, to the veranda and finally where she and her acolytes stand.

The music resumes. Ysiddia takes her seat once more and the Seconds retire into the darkened garden.]

((OOC NOTES: This is the log for the first day on Hyrypia. For events beyond this evening, feel free to make additional logs/posts occurring on DAY :002 and :003 as the assemblage will be at their liberty in Naerstone and beyond for those two days. What follows after? Who can say.

'Wait, can I NPC this character?' If they don't have a name, go wild. Should you desire mod input or for us to bounce into a thread, feel free to reach out to us and we'll be happy to accommodate. We may also be threadjacking some of these threads, however don't feel compelled to wait for us to do so. Have fun and don't blow your cover!))

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( I never really liked being quiet, but I guess I'm going to have to be. )

[ It's a a muted, half-hearted grumble, but she takes Lexa's point. She might learn more by not asking a bunch of intrusive questions, however much she might want to. She's itching to get her hands on some of the tech or to go up to the technomancers and just ask them about everything they do.

But that would probably end up blowing their cover, wouldn't it? ]

( I am so not a spy... )

( I don't expect you to be. When do you find it easiest to be silent? )

[The grumble is real, and while Lexa could be impatient with it, she's taking this as more of a forward-moving motion. Her admonishment has already come; it's time to ensure that Pidge has a focus, and one that utilizes her talents and ensures that she's confident in herself.]

( Probably when I'm working. It's when people start trying to talk to me that I feel like I need to actually respond to them... )

[ She likes her work and she likes it when no one is bothering her during it. Solution: do more work? ]

( I need to find something to actually do or I'll get fidgety. )

( Since we come from a culture that has little reason to understand what it is that we're trying to gain, we can use that. You can meet with the Seconds and try to understand they utilize their technomancy.

We'll speak to the rest of our group and determine the best way to go about it. That, or you can speak to Rhan yourself.

From there, we can see what we can accomplish. )

[It offers Pidge a purpose and a place where her talents are best utilized. There is a chance she may need a guard. They will deal with that when it comes to it, lest they're forced into a state of ignorance against their will.

Which may very well happen.

( You think they'd be willing to actually share it with me? I'm supposed to be some religious rube from a remote backwater... )

[ Pidge is understandably skeptical, but hey. Maybe it will work and it will be that easy. She leans back in her chair, trying to be the attentive, silent watcher that she's supposed to be. ]

( But maybe that can be a decent cover. I've never seen any of this before, right? )

( There is a chance that it won't work. But if it comes down to it, I can assure that you won't be going in alone. Either I will be there, or Sam will be. We'll make the part that requires pleasantries go by as quickly as possible. We may need to know how much they can sense from others while manipulating this ... Nectar. )

[Though that may be difficult to accomplish when they're meant to know little about technology. Lexa seems to be thinking through her words, but doesn't add more to them. Instead, behind her veil of cloth, she calmly looks out toward the room, searching for any faces that are less familiar with the technomancy than them.]

( ...that's actually a good point. Exactly what do they need to do to use this stuff? What's it even do? How do they manipulate it? Way too many variables for me to guess. Yet. )

[ She needs more data! And Lexa's cool tone is actually helping her settle down a little. She's back to watching and listening without much complaint or movement, eyes trying to take in all of the details. ]

( Wish I had a sample of the stuff. )

( That seems to be yet another thing we can consider obtaining. One thing we have to keep in mind is that if we have someone like you, then the Enemy has someone as well. We may ultimately be working toward the same goal of sorts. )

[Their goal is prevention, while the Enemy's goal is to obtain the power itself.

Similar, but different.]

( That's a great thought. )

[ For a moment, her mind's eye is fill with the idea of a "dark Pidge" tapping away on a computer that's basically like hers, except you know, crimson because it's the bad guys. She rolls her shoulders in a shrug. ]

( Pretty sure I can beat whoever they've got. No one's as good as I am with this stuff. )

[ She has a reason to be proud. Although she might not be that good. ]

( Does your symbiote aid you in this? )

[Lexa remembers Sam and Angel quite vividly. Both of them came from worlds where their technological skill had made them adept in any world's tech, but they—especially Sam—had further advancements thanks to the symbiote in the back of their heads.]

( No, mine makes me invisible. I'm just... really good with technology and computers. It's what I've been doing since I was a kid. Kinda runs in the family. )

[ She's had an experience in dealing with alien technology and making things work. ]

( I'm just good at it. That's all )

( Going invisible may be just the thing we need. Assuming that they aren't tracking our every move. But again, we will need to see how closely they monitor certain areas. )

[If they are tracking everything, they're already wasting their time here. Lexa only hopes that the Enemy isn't in with the ... main party, so to speak. Given some of the powers she's heard of within the Nest, it's not impossible.]

( If it's some kind of technological monitoring, I might be able to interefere or take control of it. It depends on how they do it... )

[ Pidge is in thought and there are bits and pieces of code drifting around her mind. The click-clack of keyboards. Data. Programming. It's all thoughts of what she's done and what she might need to do. ]

( Then again, most of this stuff doesn't look like it uses the same principles I'm used to. I can still figure it out - I just need to take it apart. )

( How long did it take you to adjust to the technology on Concordia? )

[Lexa thinks Concordia was likely less advanced, at least compared to these people. They were both beyond Becca (the first commander, the smartest woman on the Flame that lies on her neck) and behind her, and she knows that Sam and the others struggled with some of their hacking adventures.]

( And how much experience do you have with the supernatural? If this tech truly is magic on a higher level, have you encountered that a lot? ) [She returns to this somewhat belatedly, now that they're feeling out what they can do, and what things they may encounter. Part of that is her mind registering what Pidge has said with the parallel of the word technomancy—or more specifically, "mancy," and its origins.]

( A little while. It was more advanced then I was used to, but it was also fairly similar to stuff I'd used before. This is... different. Maybe less advanced, but I haven't seen how they actually interface with any of it. )

[ She's full of thoughts on this one. She's considering how they might use all of this when the question about the supernatural jars her thoughts. She almost glances at Lexa, but manages to keep herself still. ]

( Nothing is really supernatural. It's not magic. It's just something we haven't encountered or been able to explain - if it interacts with the universe in a measruable way, it has rules. And when we understand those rules we can understand it, even if we might not be able to control it. )

[With everything she's come to learn about the Flame—about the lives held within it, and how their "spirits" are uploaded, recorded until they pass on—she knows better than to doubt what Pidge says. At the same time, she recalls Kylo Ren and his abilities, and how he pried into her mind. That had nothing to do with the symbiote: that pain, that cutting force, was everything granted to him from another world.

It still unsettles her. It had been the inspiration for increasing the bond with her symbiote as she has since then.]

( Do you believe that the ones able to utilize the Nectar are genetically capable in some way? )

[ Pidge has encountered strange abilities herself. She tends to chalk it all up to a lack of understanding - to not having enough data. Once you have the data, it's understandable. You can break it down, put it into a box. Maybe that's a flaw in her thinking. Maybe it closes her off to certain possibilities. So far it hasn't caused her any problems.

So far. ]

( It's possible there's a genetic component. It's also possible that they're modified somehow or that you need some kind of special training and they've restricted it to a few people. I'd have to do more research. And... uh... I'm not really a biologist. So I'm not sure I would be much help with look at alien genetic code. )

( One of the past Commanders was. ) [But there are limitations. Becca can help, can fortify her knowledge, can show her the threshold, but she's not a scientist. Her limitations will always be there. She cannot have knowledge fed into her brain the way she understands that the initial program, ALIE 1.0, did for her victims in the City of Light.

Oh, and Lexa does make certain that Pidge can understand what this past Commander business is—she makes it clear that she's referring to the Flame, to what she's mentioned before with the minds uploaded on there.]

( I don't believe she'll be able to help here. Do you know if there are any among our number with that talent? )

( Right - those are those spirits that bounce around your head, right? How does that even work? )

[ She's never really asked about the Flame or how it works, although she does know it exists. Now probably isn't a good time to bombard Lexa with questions about it, even if the temptation is very strong. ]

( I'd have to ask around to see if there's anyone. I mean... I could probably put together a code or a machine that might be able to help, but I'm not sure I'd be able to accurately interpret the results. )

Edited 2017-07-15 04:06 (UTC)

( From what I understand, the chip interfaces with my biology while ensuring that my mind is permanently connected to it. ) [So ... to speak. There's a hint of uncertainty to these words, one that's almost foreign to Lexa normally. That shows why she's unable to push herself in this arena.] ( It was the same for the past Commanders, and if anyone here had the correct physiology following my death, they would be able to interface with them, as well as me. ) [Another hint through the link: no one has that physiology. One of her aims back in Concordia had been to determine whether they could upgrade the Flame so that it wouldn't require the black blood, but Angel and Sam had been lost before it could be accomplished.

It's a foregone conclusion that it will never be accomplished, though she does want to ensure that the Flame can be removed if she does pass.]

( Cathaway told me once that she does have images of how we merge with the symbiote. The set up at the Station tells me that there must be some means to accomplish what we need to do within the Nest, but it may simply not be here. ) [But that only answers half of it. Neither of them know how to read the data. Having the proper machinery is only half the challenge. Or a fourth of it, as they'd need to get a Second's DNA ...]

( Interesting. I've run into fingerprint and DNA coding before as security measures on personal devices, but never really anything that's keyed into a specific sort of physiology. Maybe that's how they do the Nectar stuff. Then again... I don't know. Anything's possible. )

[ Her mind is already wandering in a dozen different directions, trying to think of other possibilities and different angles they can approach this through. Some sort of technological trick that can give them an edge. There's a lot happening and a lot going on. Nailing it all down is going to be hard. ]

( ...Images like that would be super helpful. Maybe I'll ask her next time we're up there. )

( If everything is as you said and based in science, then it may not be different from how I became a Nightblood. That part of the story would be lost to history. )

[As outsiders, they have the ability to be objective.]

[ Pidge is too confident in her worldview to consider that some form of power or magic beyond comprehension might exist. If it exists, she thinks, she can study it. And if it can be studied, it can ultimately be quantified, no matter how powerful. ]

( How did you become a Nightblood, exactly? )

( In short, the first Commander arrived and made the first Nightbloods. Not all people born after that carried the marker of a Nightblood, but some did.

I was born this way because of that change. )

[After all, she was born nearly a century later.]

( Huh. Sounds like some sort of genetic marker. But I'm mostly just guessing... )

[ Maybe they can go into that later. It's not super relevant to the matter at hand, though. ]

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