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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

["Anything rash".]

[If there was any doubt, any sort of lingering hesitation about who this was, it's gone. It's weird, strange, how much relief there is. Enough to where he can't help but send along a mental image of himself, lifting the Darkling like a barbell over his head.]

[How's that for rash?]

[But when he actually shows up, dressed in very black robes, he ... has to stop, a few feet away. It's one thing to know him, in his mind. It's another to walk into a room and really... sort of... see.]

(Did... you sleep well?)

[Nailed it.]

[ that's infantile, he'd think. not rash, not for shiro - who is not a rash man by nature. he's just so damn pleased to see people in black that he could forgive it if shiro did decide to lift him into the air. the darkling, himself, is layered in warm gold and pale grey. it's almost an obscenity. ]

( Come here. )

[ he skips the question, for the moment, and gestures to the space beside him - there, on the bench ]

( It's really me. I find it startling that my own doubted this. )

[It's funny, part of him insists. The super competent Darkling hoisted up like luggage. But hey, it's not the first time no one here got his sense of humor.]

[His head tilts. But he doesn't hesitate more than that. It's like a pull. Like someone tugged a string between them. He finds himself moving before he can really think, sitting before he's aware.]

(Can you blame me? For wondering if I'm having a dream?)

[Him, of all people.]

[Silence, stillness. And, without thinking better of it, reaches to grip the hand he'd been gestured to with. Disguise and all. Seeking something tangible.]

[ even through the layers of the disguise, he can feel the connection between himself and shiro. it thrums, it needs. newly reawoken as he is, he seeks the company of his own broodmates and still loathes the comfort he feels. ]

( What have I ever blamed you for? )

[ shiro takes his hand, and he permits it - folding his fingers around it. a simple, casual touch. even through cloth, it's grounding. ]

( You seem to have found a measure of peace -- )

(Being too kind, sometimes.)

[It's not that serious. It's more teasing than anything. Something lightweight strung between them in the wake of the relief. The sudden ease of a wound starting to heal.]

[Maybe he's gotten more tactile in the recent weeks. He hasn't noticed. It's bleedover -- something else he hasn't noticed, lately. But his grip is even, not squeezing too tightly even if part of him wants to.]

(There's the last thing I thought I'd hear. But I guess someone had to try.)

( You are too kind. That is the unfortunate truth, not blame. )

[ one hand is free, and he presses the back of it to the space over shiro's heart.

he still thinks that this young man is too soft, too warm - that it will destroy him one day, and if that day had not arrived in his absence, then perhaps he could... warn it off. for just a little bit longer. judging by shiro's lack of blind need, sam wilson was still among the nest. a cursory passover, mind-to-mind, would confirm such. ]

( I may ask you difficult questions, in coming days. I will need honest answers from you, and for you to know that my asking is professional. Not personal attempts to open old wounds - do you understand? )

(Do I get to defend myself here?)

[He's more than a little surprised at the contact. It shows. He's better at guarding his thoughts, lately, he's had to be. But between them, it's harder.]

[Before the other speaks up, he's already mulling through things he'd meant to say. Things he hadn't gotten the chance to, before. Apologies, mostly, whether or not they're needed. And yes, Sam is still there. A lot more present than before. Sorry, friend.]

(What kind of questions?)

( Do you feel I am attacking you, when I state the truth? )

[ Shiro is all heart, and will never be able to disguise that from his own brood. That is the nature of that connection - one that has plagued the Darkling, as well. He is exposed, like this. Not as efficient as he could be, left stripped of some of his centuries-old defenses.

He reaches his free hand, for Shiro's other one as well. There, hold both of his hands. Is that better? ]

( About the battles you've fought. )

(It wasn't that kind of question.)

[Jeez, Darkling, you gotta learn about his sense of humor here already. Get with the program. Either way, it wasn't serious.]

[Heart is what gets you through a lot of things, in his experience. Which is a funny train of thought, considering what's said next. He doesn't protest both hands on his, but pauses, in thought.]

(What did you need to know about them?)

[ MMMMMMM HUMOR??? ]

( Your role. The goals of your enemies. Traditional matters of war. )

[ He squeezes Shiro's hands, and his mind laughs between the two of them - soft, black velvet. ]

( I don't need your answers now. I'm gauging your experience, compared to mine, is all. )

[Accept his coping strategy already!!]

(I... can do that, yeah. Why the sudden interest?)

[He can't remember the Darkling taking one before. Than again, he hadn't ever offered it up before, either. So maybe it's not that big of a surprise.]

(You make it sound like you know there's a bigger fight coming than any of us expect.)

[ accept HIS wtf ]

( Shiro. )

[ he sounds amused, the way one might be with a bright-eyed child who has missed the point. ]

( We're in the middle of a three-front war full of very, very desperate beings. If you cannot see this for the fight that it already is -- I fear things may become dangerous for you.

I have fought wars like this. Lead a desperate people, as well. If I push you, it is because I want to ensure you are aware and safe. )

[Cue the mental, internal groan.]

(Sorry if I'm not used to you asking other people for help.)

[Because usually, aside from the odd "I need to borrow your car", this scenario tends to be the other way around.]

(I get it. And I'll be honest -- it's easier to fight when you have a general idea of where the hits are coming.)

[Aside from "any of these three groups".]

[ there is a -- melancholy to his words: ] ( I'm - not used to there being other people that would help me. )

[ willingly, without wanting something from him in return. ]

( They're dangerous. All of them. They're driven by need, and the plight of their people. I know what I would do, in their position - and I have done it. I don't want to see you or any of the nest subjected to that. )

[ both because they are Still All His and because he has a duty to them all ]

(But we will.)

[There's more surety to the words, there. This is ... something he probably just yelled about to Clint, out of sheer frustration. He shifts, turning more fully to face the other.]

(We're a team, here. All of us. The sooner we start relying on each other, the more smoothly these missions are going to go. And that includes you.)

[Why is it so hard for these people to work together. He quiets, though, listening. He's really listening.]

(It won't happen, not if I can help it. I don't want to see anyone hurt by these people either.)

[He can think of a handful of faces, especially.]

( Not always. Remember - we've disagreed before. )

[ his softness is a fleeting thing; the melancholy sharpens into something professional, experienced. though his consciousness brushes along shiro's brow like the press of a friendly ( NOT #INTERESTED ) mouth, he's withdrawn again. ]

( In an ideal world, that would work. But none of this is ideal, so we must be ready to work with those who are willing, rather than dragging those who would sooner rely solely on themselves.

I, on the other hand, have been nothing BUT a team player. )

[ HMMPH!!! ]

( Look at this, barely a few minutes - and already, we've fallen into old habits. )

(And we're probably going to again, now that you're awake.)

[It's a little sore, that point. Since it's the last conversation he remembers having before... before the feeling of his arm being ripped from his side. Before everything felt raw and on fire for days on end.]

[The affection is slight, in comparison.]

(Even doing that puts people in danger. The people who won't help drag the rest of us down on missions like this one.)

(There's got to be a way to get everyone on the same page.)

[Yep, right back into old habits, but, really, it hasn't been that long.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

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