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

[onemind]

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 )

Comments

naerstone house

[somnifacient]

[Noctis is the figure nearby, his own disguise nothing but cloth cut in black. The traditional color of the Lucis Caelum line, so integrated into everything that he is that Noctis had made his choice without much thought. A gloved hand had been pulling at the spine of a tome, curious of its subject and its exterior design. Only when he hears the voice of the Darkling, his question permeating the air, does he turn his head.

It’s a presence he doesn’t recognize, but there’s a fraction of familiarity there; as if a lost thread of the Nest has reattached itself properly, where it had been displaced and lost before. This alone is enough to drag his attention away from the book (a lazy, lagging sensation), dropping his hand.

He responds, but only mentally. Noctis has made a habit of speaking aloud only when absolutely necessary. The timbre of the voice the Darkling will hear, at least, is clear. It buzzes with mild curiosity, but stretched with something tired — the lingering aftermath of having lost broodmates recently, swirling still within him.

He frowns. He focuses.]

(We’re still in the info-gathering stage.)

[Which doesn’t mean they’re not scattered to the winds, admittedly. He doesn’t bother remarking that much.]

[unsea]

[ He likes this one, if only because the colors he wears are as traditional to his bloodline as they are to The Darkling's station among Grisha. He is the sole one of his kind who is permitted to wear a black kefta, and to be in colors other than his own is - new. It is not something he can afford to nitpick and be concerned over. They are the colors of a disguise, after all - how better to divorce himself from who he was among the nest, to become another -- ]

( Have we a common focus? )

[ Info-gathering aside, he's definitely surprised to hear that the nest has not split into factions already. ]

( -- I remember you. From Waypoint Shril, just before I went away. )

[somnifacient]

[I remember you, he says, and the familiarity blossoms into prickling recognition. Waypoint Shril, in all its chaos, in all the confusion he felt after his arrival -- that's right. Noctis does remember now.]

(You're back, then.) [Obvious, of course. But he's still new and uninitiated in many ways; the weight of someone having awoken pulls across the link, and his curiosity tugs at it more.]

(How do you feel?)

[He realizes he didn't answer the initial question. He can get to that later.]

[unsea]

( I should not have gone. )

[ He has his pride, after all. Falling asleep such as that was - a weakness. A lack of control. ]

( Prepared. This manner of work is what I am suited for. )

[ Noctis, you're going to get the vibe that he is DEFINITELY trying to focus on the mission - not the fact that he fell asleep and left his brood to fend for themselves. HE'S A LITTLE SORE ABOUT IT ALL. ]

[somnifacient]

[The question of how he is, how he's feeling, still lingers. It's in Noctis' nature to wonder about that first, and there's the bristle of dissatisfaction at the question not really being answered.]

(Just like that, huh? Prepared?)

[Skepticism rings throughout, and yet he doesn't follow up on it. He does not know this man well enough to presume.

Noctis moves over to the glass, which encases the Nectar within. The ghost of his reflection shines back at him, shades of black.]

("Manner of work", meaning all of this cloak and dagger stuff?)

[And for once, the turn of phrase can be taken literally this time.]

[unsea]

( Just like that, ) [ a sense of confidence, even if it is accompanied by the equivalent of a mental yawn.

he's still rousing, sore from what could have been oversleeping - as though he were a child, and not a man full grown and centuries-lived. the man before him is curious and unwilling to pry, and he doesn't find it commendable. they'll need to pry, svelte and seductive and subtle, if they want to succeed on this mission. and he, in turn, will double down. as always, he has an agenda of his own. ]

( Politics. Information. War. I was the leader of my country and its army, during a war much like this. It's refreshingly familiar to me, especially after such a long rest. Even if we are posing as a faction with no hope of personal gain. )

[somnifacient]

[It's the sensation of something still stirring -- that much he can garner from the Darkling, without having to ask. He suppose it's a fair comparison to make, considering the not-newcomer had just literally awoken from a deep, unfathomable slumber.

(It suddenly dawns upon him that he knows the feeling all too well. From the light of the Crystal, into the dark of the Eos. A ten year sleep that made his bones ache.)]

(Then you're exactly what we need right now. We may be posing as neutral, but I think that gives us an advantage in the end. But like I said, we all just seem to be keeping an ear to the ground for now.)

[But there's something else that he clings to, once again skewing the conversation more towards the other man, rather than the mission at hand.]

(You were leader in what capacity?) [King? Emperor? Chancellor? echoes the rest of his question, a ripple in the thread of their link.]

[unsea]

( I had thought as much, ) [ ARROGANCE WOW???

this man seems keen to come to know him, and the darkling has already accepted that for the purpose of this mission, he may not wish to play his cards as close to his chest as he has before. there is a way to be transparent, and simultaneously unobservable - hidden in plain sight, and he will practice among the nest. as though he is simply warming himself up for a long run. ]

( I was the leader of the Second Army, adviser to the seated sovereign, custodian of my people. A -- general, of sorts. )

[somnifacient]

[y i k e s

But no, Noctis doesn't interpret it as arrogance. Not yet, at least. He has no reason to think that much of this man, no reason to think he may be stretching the truth for the sake of his pride or otherwise.]

(I see.)

[An advisor to a seated sovereign. The image of a throne dances in his mind, both ostentatious and crumbling.]

(So war is a good friend of yours.)

[unsea]

[ the spark of something black and hateful snarls, brief and fleeting, between the space between them. ]

( War is a friend to none. I sought to end this war that made children into soldiers and martyrs. )

[ the thought of a throne, wreathed in flame, pleases him however - though he weaves the image in another way, dousing flame with his bare hands. seating the throne that had been made absent, after the king and his family were forced to flee the capital. ]

( -- but, I am a man of war, in the end. I understand it intimately. )

[somnifacient]

[It isn't enough to make Noctis recoil, that dark and biting thing. There's tension there, and his immediate, unfaltering reaction to anything dark as night is to frown. Deeply.

This is, of course, hidden beneath his robes, unseen by the other.]

(I know a few people who would disagree with you there.)

[Emperors corrupted with the scourge, holding fast to the advantage of being on the winning side of the war. Aldercapt would have called it a very good friend of his.

He shakes away the image of the Niflheim ruler, his face twisted into that of a daemon. That was neither here nor there, even as the other presents a throne to him; one in which the other would claim, or at least, that's how he reads it.]

(And what does a man of war, with all your experience, think about the mission so far?)

[unsea]

[ his anger is, honestly, half-farce. after all, he is a man who has benefited greatly from the problems that plagued Ravka, and was able to manipulate history. ]

( I think that it will be difficult, if we do not break into factions. We have much ground to cover, and must not forget that our role is to identify this enemy of ours and prevent that faction from gaining Nectar rights. We are a false race that can be overlooked. I want to begin, and very soon. )

[ He hates sitting on his laurels, and also has designs of his own that need MOMENTUM. ]

[somnifacient]

[He senses that eagerness, though maybe Noctis misinterprets it as impatience.]

(Ready to get started, aren't you? We haven't been here that long.)

[He turns again to look at the Nectar, encased in glass. Something reminiscent of a sigh ripples across their link.]

(Funny how across the universe, everyone just wants the same thing.)

[In his mind flashes the Crystal, its open maw dragging him in, pulling him into sleep.]

(Just the power to bully everyone else around them.)

[unsea]

( I don't enjoy the feeling that I am already far behind where I need to be. )

[ this mission feels like an uphill battle, and he turns - to follow the weight of noctis's invisible gaze. the nectar; a curiosity he wishes to take apart, with the knowledge that there may not be time enough. there is never time enough. ]

( Is that all you see? ) [ a scalpel, an oyster knife wedged into a seam. prying. prying. ] ( Is that all they are to you? Bullies. Reaching for power, for the sole means of lording over the others? )

[somnifacient]

(In the end, isn't that what it usually is? It starts with an ideal. Good intentions, that kind of thing.)

[The prying works. Noctis isn't the sort to offer any resistance, not in a conversation like this. He's reminded of how Niflheim overtook Insomnia, the capital city crumbling under the wrath of of an Empire. A trifling thing, compared to what happened afterwards. But it was impossible to forget regardless.]

(Then... what? That ideal turns into reality, and organizations and nations grow too big. Too many politics. Power learns to want more power.)