station72 | [hatch log / mission: hyrypia] the winds that will be howling at all hours

Entry tags:

[hatch log / mission: hyrypia] the winds that will be howling at all hours

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - Naerstone House
WHEN: DAY :002 - :003
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station, are briefed, then make their way to Hyrypia to join the rest of the hosts… while they attend a very important history lesson.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :002

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP are are suddenly changed. --No. That's not right. You're you and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or surfacing up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and everything is because right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.

But here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone.In fact there are lots of you and none of them are the strangers they should be. Some even seems like people you've known for a very long time.They are as familiar as this place you've never been is.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a hollow shell.

--Or it does until a voice separates itself from the white noise in your head:

BRIEFING
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD isn't really a voice at all. It's the warm tang of camaraderie, tinged with a flash of impatience like ticking hands on a clock face and a flicker of wonder: a falling star. It says:

( My, you're all very fresh aren't you? Unfortunately, the multiverse waits for no spring chicken. Once you've figured out which way's up, won't you all join us? )
Join 'us' where is the question. And yet, once you're ready to meet the owner of the voice in your mind, your footsteps simply lead you there naturally. Two strangers sit in a small circular briefing room - a tall being covered in short brown fur with a rigid demeanor, and a pale alien with yellow washed frills at her jaw and throat who is smiling cheerfully.

"Hey there, sunshine," says Rhan, her frills humming as she speaks. "Why don't you take a seat so we can get started?"

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]

THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank and going over your mission kit is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

HYRYPIA - NAERSTONE HOUSE
DAY :003

MEETING
A SINGLE SHIP LANDS in a field the color of burnished gold, returning to the place it had until late the night before occupied. It's carefully inserted beside dozens of other spacecraft bearing more than faint similarities, though each has its own unique aesthetic. When the gangplank drops, the loud engines powering down, it reveals--

New hosts. Seven fresh faces - obscured as they are in layers of intricate fabric - are led down the gangplank by Rhan There to greet them is a number of other hosts - any who answered to the sweet crystalline ring of Collector’s voice in their heads hardly a half hour earlier, speaking with certainty born of truth:

( Rhan and Siva’co are returning. Shall we see what stories they have to tell? )

Despite the solidarity that both combined groups provide, there's a feeling of eyes here. A number of guards along the edge of the shuttle field are watching the reunion like hawks. Better perhaps to return to the apartments where they'll be able to speak in private and teach the new hosts what it is that has been learned since their arrival. --Or explore, for those who prefer not to rest. Naerstone House's grounds are vast and they are almost entirely open to the parties of the pilgrims to explore.

THE PERFORMANCE
AS THE SINGLE RED SUN of Hyrypia dips low on the horizon there is a long, low, mournful sound. A deep bell-- or a horn? Or maybe it's something else entirely, but the call is heard and answered as any nearby servants inform the guests of the house:

“There will be a performance of the First Journey in a quarter turn. All guests are invited to attend.”

There's no mystery as to where the event is occurring. A steady trail of guests and servants lead out past the Veranda into the central garden where a number of pillars have been mounted and a large tiered platform festooned with with numerous draped curtains and abstract representations of trees and mountains - a great stage - now sits. The stage is surrounded by numerous low settees and tables, piles of thick cushions and richly colored rugs around which guests can be found clustered, lounging while sipping thick, syrupy drinks.

Each table is illuminated only by a single glowing orb at its center. Otherwise, as the sun sets it pitches the garden into darkness as even the castle itself has been left unlit. There are no lights in distant windows or on Naerstone House's high walls; these small orbs and the glitter of stars in the black sky might very well be the only points of light in the whole universe.

The allotted time passes and the performance begins. A sun rises over the stage. It's a much larger, more intricate glowing orb and reveals a number of players dressed far more simply than the Hyrypians the hosts have met. They wear complex machine masks upon their faces that shutter into different expressions as their hands flitter across their faces: dramatic caricatures to accompany the droning sound of their singing voices as they unfold the tale at the center of the performance - the one which drives this pilgrimage and for the Nest's very presence in the universe at all. It's the story of lost Rabadoceans coming to a planet near barren intent on brutalizing them - about loss and hardship until finally a single player separates from the rest. The orb of the sun over the stage turns, it's mechanical face shifting and resetting to indicate the passage of time as the very central platform of the stage begins to turn so that this lone player might walk. And walk. And walk through deserts and scrub land, through dark woods and dark caves, against the wind and with it. Through it all, the orb over the stage slowly lowers until at last this lone player can take it in their hands.

It cracks like an egg and brilliance streams from it. Braziers catch fire in the darkness. The garden illuminates itself. Every light in Naerstone House comes to life.

With that, the silence of the crowd breaks. There is applause -- each culture in its own unique fashion -- and then there is a rise of chattering conversation as the guests are served several small dishes and talk about the show they’ve just seen - and whatever possible clues it might give to the pilgrimage they themselves would soon be undertaking.

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts as well as the evening's performance. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[Bucky doesn't know what that's like, what home feels like; however, he does know the need to protect. She says she's tried to kill a fellow Nestmate and Bucky, unfortunately knows that too. In an instant, he's infinitely more uncomfortable than when they began this conversation.

He's a monster, a weapon parading around as a man. His most recent argument with Sam only furthers the evidence in favor.]

( Why? ) [Maybe she has the same issues as him. Maybe Sam can help her.]

[Bucky runs a hand over his face and his fingers briefly touch on the feathers braided into his hair. They should know more by now, he thinks, but here they are still struggling to find a solution when the Station feels farther away every day.]

( Right. )

[He pauses, before looking up at Sam's silhouette.]

( 's he okay? )

[He feels the same way, Bucky. That they should know more. The enemy should have shown something of itself by now. Or more information should have come up. But every route seems to turn up a dead end.]

(Maybe we're looking in the wrong place... I don't know.)

[The question is a surprise, even though it shouldn't be. He tracks where Bucky is looking, before answering.]

(As well as can be. He's... got a lot of people looking out for him.)

( Because they are monsters that I know of from my own home, who I have seen slay hundreds, if not thousands. )

[ She doesn't look towards him or in fact take her eyes off the performance, slowly sipping from the cup beneath her veils. The material about her fluttering and swaying. ]

[ The answer to Kaji's question is complex. Bellamy's silent for a moment as he tries to come up with a concise way to sum it all up. ]

They need us to fight this war.

[ Which is the more pragmatic angle to take, one Bellamy has learned to set forth after multiple arguments with Lexa. ]

And some of the things Rhan told me, about Cathway and Prince, it makes it seem like they're more invested in our Nest than normal.

[ What goes unsaid, and slips between them in flashes, is Cathaway in the pool in the garden, extending her hand, linking their minds. Things had tipped after that. Bellamy knows that.

[Her response makes Bucky stiffen. He's known for a long time that he's a monster, that underneath the facade of a man, a person, a monster lives and breathes. Even besides his past, he's killed five innocent people since arriving on the Station.]

( That makes me one too. )

[From the start, the entire mission has been one frustrating turn after the other, but his stress has started to eat him away without Sam to vent. The lack of knowledge only increases that sensation of digging around in the dark, hoping to find something that won't kill them all.]

( Good. ) [In response to the mention of Sam's well-being. Sam has friends beyond him, has a wide network of allies he can connect with, Shiro being one of them.]

(Are you guys all right?)

[There's something there. Something not quite right. Something neither of them have touched on, but feels... off. In general. Enough to make him concerned.]

(Sorry, if that's... nosy.) [But they're both his friends and, in one case, more.]

[Bucky doesn't mind too much, considering he still has the second-hand impression of Sam's kiss with Shiro. Still, he's never been much in the way of sharing.]

( Yeah. ) [ Everything's fine. No reason to ask questions here.]

[ that reason alone, they need us, while he doesn't doubt it, is inadequate to convince him. he'd known manipulation, done by leaders who could see no other possibility for their own survival. who could see no other alternative except survival. the good of the many outweighed the good of the few, many would claim. have claimed. you could almost excuse that kind of reasoning.

almost. ]

And when they win this war, [ they, not we. not yet. ] how will they expect to settle all their accounts? To us. Or are they hoping that by then, we'll forget what they did?

[ brain surgery is notoriously difficult to reverse. this is not your grandpa's parasite. ]

Maybe they have an incentive to wait until we do. Isn't that why we're here, on this planet?

[He probably should figure that little gem got passed around to more people than just Pidge. But Bucky hasn't quite entered into it. Yet.]

[Yet.]

(You sure?) [King of "I'm Fine" being fake, remember.]

[Between Shiro and Damon, Bucky's gotten a lot of the wake of Sam's passion for his Nestmates. There's little guarding from it, so Bucky simply stores the facts for jabs later. At least, when they're not fighting.

At Shiro's continued line of questioning, Bucky shifts to look at him. Boy, he forgot how alike they are, how easy it is to want to gloss over everything. There's a burgeoning sense of trust and respect developing, but Bucky doesn't see this as a matter of import to share.]

( Won't let it affect the mission. ) [As if he were speaking to a senior officer.]

[He'd be so... so sorry. You know, if Bucky actually told him about it. Instead, he's currently more concerned with the rest of what's going on.]

(Hey, that's not what I'm worried about...) [Not even slightly. He's not Bucky's superior, as far as he's concerned. He just likes the guy. Hard not to when there's a sense of familiarity about him.]

(I'm worried about you two.)

( Hey, those are good action movies. B- at worst. And most of them are classics. )

[Loyalty makes her say these things.]

[Bucky turns fully from the performance to watch Shiro. He's not entirely certain of Shiro's motives, but he knows that Shiro cares for Sam. A lot of people in the Nest do. It's part of what makes Sam a natural leader in a ship full of misfits and broken soldiers.]

( Why? ) [He doesn't mean to ask out of spite, more curiosity. This is one of those social nuances that he honestly doesn't have a lot of experience with yet.]

(I sort of thought it was obvious.)

[There's no attempt to hide anything in his answer. If anything, it comes out a little more embarrassed than intended. No secrets here.]

(I think of you as a friend, and... well. Sam is--) [Yeah, definitely embarrassed here.] (I love him.)

[So why wouldn't he worry about them?]

[At the first part of Shiro's response, Bucky draws back a little. Right, it should be obvious to everyone with even the slightest social skills. It's a sore reminder of everything he's lacking, but he appreciates the feedback regardless. He needs to work harder and stop asking dumb questions.

He nods at the mention of friendship, as Bucky sees Shiro in a similar way, but stops mid-nod at the mention of Sam. For a moment, he's unsure how to process the information. Bucky is aware of his own deep feelings for Sam, how they stretch beyond friendship and brotherhood. He's never voiced these feelings out loud, but Shiro can. Hell, Bucky can tell Sam's attracted to Shiro from the broodlink alone. It would make sense for the two to feel the same for each other.

And yet, there's an unfamiliar sting in his chest. It reminds him of losing something, leaving something important to sit, only to have someone else come by and scoop it up. Which is stupid and selfish and everything Bucky isn't supposed to be.

He locks that sensation behind his walls, where frosted barbed wire keeps his Nestmates at bay. Weapons don't have things, don't have feelings, don't have friends.

After perhaps a too-long pause, Bucky nods again.]

( Sam needs someone like you. ) [Bucky, however, doesn't deserve that degree of love. He's a broken man, a murderer, a weapon. No one deserves to have to put up with him either.]

[He almost apologizes. Even if he's not totally sure why. He hadn't meant anything by the answer -- except maybe a dig at himself over how completely obvious he was. The last thing he wants to do is alienate someone he considers a friend.]

[And... he very much does think of Bucky that way. Prickly barbed wire, walls and all.]

[Which is why the answer, the pause, doesn't do anything to alleviate that concern. Sam needs someone like you. Something about that phrasing pricks at him. The silence that goes before it. But there are walls up. And far be it from him to try and breach them, when someone doesn't want their thoughts processed. His own, though --]

[Maybe Bucky is just being guarded. Worried about why Shiro even wants to know about them. So he lowers his. Just enough to where if he said anything that wasn't true, the other would know.]

(Hey, I said I care about you too. That's what being concerned about both of you means, man.)

[ Most of what bleeds across the link is foreign, though some sentiment rings true — not knowing your own friends is a unique sort of paranoia and loss. Her question stirs up a small list of things that are close without ever quite being right, the vague recollection of historical figures, distant politicians. People he knew, once; or people someone else knew that've just been passed on to him.

The answer's clearly no, he doesn't. But Mat works around it, making an effort at finding some kind of common ground. ] No. You don't mean the Aiel?

[ Only if she's bad at spelling. ]

[Bucky nods in response, detached and distant. He buckles it all down and turns back to the performance, gaze passing over Sam's silhouette for the briefest of moments before looking past him. He can't measure up to Shiro, not in the slightest, so he might as well step out of the way.

This definitely isn't something he needs to share with Shiro, or Sam for that matter, so he offers a half-smile.]

( I know. )

Black powder. [ It's good for more than just guns, thank you very much. Not that he's entirely sure what guns are good for, yet. That's taken care of when Clarke picks up the assault rifle, aims, and fires.

Mat flinches and takes a quick step back, because it's loud and abrupt and he's not a bloody idiot. But his focus doesn't scatter when he startles, staying sharp on the way the bullets spray into the target and tear through the surface. The recoil's there in a way that's more awareness than real feeling, and his gaze draws back to the gun, to her shoulder — putting together what he sees and the knowledge that's transferred across the link.

It's a little bit like fireworks, actually, if you've ever used a controlled firework to blow a hole through something. Which he has, and the memory's at the surface of his thoughts (a stone tower, thick walls blown to pieces, desperate fighting in narrow corridors). He'd had brief thoughts about what you could do with fireworks on a battlefield while working through strategies. Then he'd had thoughts about what that sort of force would do to a body, and he'd scrapped the idea — and hoped, irresponsibly, that nobody on the other side would have the same one.

Whoever Clarke's people were and whoever these people were, they apparently hadn't had the same restraint. The comparison doesn't come with judgment, exactly. Grim curiosity, a hint of resignation. ] You've aimed one of those at a person?

( You know Clarke? )

[ Everyone here knows everyone, don't they? But the comment implies a bit more than acquaintance, and the tangent into small talk's uncharacteristically welcome. He can do small talk if it'll steer them clear of more deep thoughts.

And despite his initial, slightly dismissive description, he's more fond of Clarke than the other two. Or maybe it's just that she creeps him out less?? Whatever, beggars can't be choosers. ]

[ The impression he'd gotten from Prince about Cathaway's skill with knives had been it's own, unspoken answer about what to do about the symbiotes. But Bellamy leans forward, elbows on the table, as he considers what Cathaway had explicitly told him when he'd asked her if he could leave. ]

It'll depend on what you want.

[ Angel comes to mind; she'd been so eager to mesh herself into the Nest. Angel wouldn't have wanted to leave. Bellamy knows she isn't the only one who would have expressed such a sentiment. ]

And if you believe them when they say we're free to go. We'd be free to go now, except we'd end up in the same position.

[ Which is clearly incentive for Bellamy to stay. He can't lead the Enemy to his people a second time. He misses Octavia, but he can't be the one to risk her life like this again. ]

[Perhaps the warmth she feels in considering Clarke is something that she'll be able to subdue, but it's difficult to do that now. She's special—she elevates herself—and more. "Girl who cries too much." What a less than acceptable way to refer to someone.]

( She's one of my ambassadors back home. And the leader of her people. ) [Whether they recognize that or not.

Putting Clarke in such plain terms is simple enough, but there's still the sentiment behind it. Clarke is not just someone that Lexa respects.]

[He's not sure why it feels like he's said something wrong here. Or overstepped some boundary he wasn't aware of. You'd think things would get easier, when you were linked to someone else's mind. Instead, everything just feels more muddled.]

[Still... he forges on. In the hope it's going to make a difference.]

(So -- if you need anything. I'll do what I can.)

[Offering him a memory, along with that promise. A coin passed between hands.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 51 of 53

[hatch log / mission: hyrypia] the winds that will be howling at all hours

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no problem. will you still be able to hit back the npc mod thread?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

yes yes! wait for me...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

gathers you to me

no subject

no subject