[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

damn u should have warned a guy to warn a guy

[ryohji]

[ the SEELE he knows is terrifying beyond the purlieus of history and convention, but that's only because kaji knows what's behind the preeminent holographs, and the immense power they command. but offered without context in the manner he did, the memory of SEELE doesn't alone warrant his panic. unless. unless, unless, unless.

before mat can dispense with it, kaji folds the representation into itself and tucks it away in favor of latching onto what mat transmits: an eight pointed star, alien refulgence, the smell of putrid flesh. he won't deny. it reminds him, if only for the fact that they share in orphic, occult strangeness. SEELE has been around for a very long time, this kaji knows. they've taken different shapes and names in the time past, time that is measured in centuries, if not millennia. could it be that - ]

No, [ ardent curiosity aside, kaji doesn't intend to get stabbed on the off chance mat decides to forget his little favor. (funny how things change.) kaji steps back, one, two, holding up his hands in gentle appeasement. see? all gone know. no need to burn him. ] You're not going mad. Sorry about that.

dives down the rabbit hole ig

[calhar]

[ The flicker of something else doesn't spur another violent response, but the echo of it's bemusing — symbols, words. Mat thinks of the Forsaken and of seals, then reminds himself he's being a fool. He has no idea what the seals look like, or whether they're even a real, physical thing.

It's distracting, and it takes him a few seconds to draw his focus back to Kaji. He meets his eyes again, then pointedly checks the medallion that's strung around his own neck, obscured beneath a black scarf. It's still there, and it isn't cold, which means...

He has no idea what it bloody means. That this isn't the One Power, which is good enough on its own; less good when there's no other explanation he can fathom. The pause is drawn out that much longer as Mat watches him, considering, and there's a decidedly suspicious bent to his voice when he finally replies. ]

Which one was it? You went through one of those blasted doors, didn't you.

let us be the most irresponsible

[ryohji]

[ kaji was accustomed to suspicion, knows how to diffuse it into an emotion that he could work with. people tended to assume the worst of him constantly, especially when they thought he didn't know. and some would say that there was a fine line between perspicacity and insanity, but kaji is beginning to suspect that he'd found an entirely new line, and was crossing it as they speak. ]

No. [ if there's such thing as soul fragmentation, and soul harvesting, and metabiological engineerings dressed under terms of mechanical connotation, and angels, and mind-body dissolution, and mindreading, who is he to say that time travel was something of psuedoscience? especially when the evidence presents so plainly to him, wrapped up in a shiny bow? kaji remains put, giving no indication of dropping his hands. ] I think you and I, we come from different time periods. That's why [ you don't know what a lighter is doesn't sound so convincing, perhaps, but everything about this man denotes antiquity, down to his manner of dress and speech. ] we don't recognize the places we're from. Among other things.

[ but still - ] What doors?

[calhar]

[ Different times. The concept should strike him as odd, but all it does is strike a familiar note. There's the things that are abstract, like the Wheel and the Ages and the Dragon — and there are things that are much closer, like a woman with a long, blonde braid, and memories.

It's like something's cracked a floodgate, images and voices and faces all washing over the connection in a layered, overwhelming mess, all of it laced through with adrenaline and the pitch of battle. It's something that used to give Mat a headache. He's gotten used to it, trying not to hold onto the bits and pieces and avoiding the worst of it, but the same might not be true for Kaji. When it comes to a stop, it isn't a clean cut. They fade out, grow dimmer and quieter until the clarity of the present settles back in.

Mat's brow is furrowed as he weighs an answer, suspicion still keenly intact. There's no sense of an immediate threat, but he isn't going out of his way to deescalate. ]

The ter'angreal. [ Now that the connection's sharper, the strange word will come with a vague comprehension: a twisted redstone doorway, hallways without any connection to time or place. ] It's the only way I know to find other worlds. It's how I found those flaming snakes.

[ The room with the pillars, he means. He's obviously decided Kaji's strange room is the same, or close enough. ]

[ryohji]

Ter'angreal - ?

[ angels?

one man's recollection is another man's migraine. it hurts, too, physically: a hell of a headache that makes even the roots of his teeth ache. kaji winces, struggling to keep his feet anchored against the surge of memories, memories he suspected were revealing a great deal about his own, even if he was at a loss to interpret them.

he hears himself swear faintly, biting back the urge to retch all over the floor. reprieve comes in the shrewd arrangement of a voice, so distinct, so clear, so self-assured to rise above the fray of mat's suspicion and kaji's pounding head.

( 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? )

it's as though someone had placed two electrode paddles to his brain to force it into awareness. the migraine is gone, or maybe he's just numb. the look kaji gives mat is wide-eyed, incredulous. faintly he's aware of the weight of his gun, strapped still somehow beneath his belt. ]

Was that you?

[calhar]

[ He doesn't have to feel the pain to see it. The timing doesn't go remiss, either, and that twinge of paranoia's starting up again when the other voice interrupts. Mat's gaze finally drops from Kaji, one hand pressing to his temple as if to steady a headache. The pendant around his neck is still there, a comforting weight, but there's no tell-tale cold to give him answers.

His response to the question is delayed. Even after he looks back up, there's a wary pause as he eyes Kaji, leaning into the connection without really meaning to. The shock on his face is real, the bracing thought of something— a weapon? ]

No, it wasn't. [ It's probably the most straightforward thing he's said yet, no cursing and no accusation. There wasn't any threat in the message. If anything, it came with an inherent sense of trust that's only unnatural in retrospect. The thing is, having someone mess with his head isn't exactly new, and Kaji's confusion is answered by a kind of surety on Mat's end — a name, Finn, strongly linked to the idea of misplaced thoughts and emotions.

The first choice is always running, but there doesn't seem to be anywhere to run that isn't more tall, alien hallways. Mat still considers it in a way that's level, real strategy instead of cowardice; then he settles on something else. He's made two deals with the Finn. That at least makes him more prepared for a third. ] Are you going to follow it?

[ryohji]

[ the feeling's mutual, then. somehow the schadenfreude doesn't sweeten the experience, however fleeting it proved. rarely does it ever.

they spend much too long, in restrospect, staring each other down like cowboys poised on opposite ends of a godforsaken town. kaji finds himself trusting mat's denial for as much as it's worth, by one virtue of it sounding the most heartfelt kaji's ever heard from him, and by another virtue of the twinge of paranoia synchorized to the foreign intruder - be it a voice, a thought, or a malevolent presence even more abstruse than even that. the effect on him was immediate. no one could ever hope to conceal such a split-nano reaction, himself included.

kaji's expression softens despite everything. it's almost imperceivable. almost. ]

Are you?

[ before he realizes it kaji is on the move, power walking down a hallway illuminated by the same white, preternatural lights. he has enough sense to cast a look over his shoulder, a subtle invitation for mat to follow, though kaji wouldn't be surprised to catch him on his heels with an urgency not of his own volition. ]

Maybe the better question is, do we have a choice?