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Entry tags:
- *hatch log,
- *mission log,
- addison parker [original],
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- clarke griffin [the 100],
- damon salvatore [the vampire diaries],
- elena gilbert [the vampire diaries],
- helen magnus [sanctuary],
- john murphy [the 100],
- lexa [the 100],
- matrim cauthon [wheel of time],
- misato katsuragi [evangelion],
- noctis lucis caelum [ffxv],
- pidge gunderson (katie holt) [voltron],
- rust cohle [true detective],
- ryohji kaji [evangelion],
- sam wilson [mcu]
[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!
((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!))
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!))
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I should have realised, we are playing at this, not truly keeping a household. [ Her hand lifts, a waved motion. ] I have lived too long in well, poorer establishments, to pay it much mind. I ask only for how to clean it when the need arises.
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[It's apologetic. At least she's not acting offended at the idea. Honestly, he wouldn't know how to handle that kind of thing.] I'm sure someone here can help with that part.
[Out of habit, he offers her a hand. Still in gloves, both metal and non.]
I'm Shiro.
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- ( Too new, a mistake, she forgets these rules of contact, that she must avoid it - that it bleeds open, the sounds of bells chimming to hymns and cannons between the screams, fire and fire and fire, all that it means to be Queen ) -
Her hand drops from his almost immediately like she burned herself. Not on him, she wants to say - nothing to do with him. She wasn't ever made well to looking in. But it would mean admitting much of anything - and she does that just as much. ]
I am the Queen of Jhansi. Maharani Lakshmi Bai.
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[Despite doing his best to school his expression, he can feel himself wince. Jerking his head back, even as she pulls away.]
Sorry -- I -- sorry. I forgot it's hard ... at first.
[Breathe and get your head together. Remember what you've learned. Breathe. Count.]
Queen? [It's a topic change, at least. Grasped for out of the need to steady himself from what explosions set off.] Never met a queen before... what do I call you?
[Normality, formality. Breathe.]
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Rani. [ It's firmly pushed through. He needs to breath in the conversation and nothing puts the walls she wants up so far as titles and rank. Places her away, if only ever behind a glass pane. The symbiote provides easy translation to it's meaning, My Queen. ] Rani is... fine. Or Lady Lakshmi, is what others will use, from time to time.
[ Tesla's polite hold of her hand. ]
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[Hey, if he can call Allura "Princess" on occasion, then this is the same thing, right? Not to mention... she asked for it. This Rani did. It's hard enough arriving here and adjusting without people stomping all over your wishes.]
[Speaking of --]
I'm sorry, again. I honestly forgot how sharp everything is when people first get here.
It gets better.
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Gets better? Like a wound or a missing limb? [ One genuinely heals, the other you learn to live with, and her laughter is just that, sharp the same. ]
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[Everyone keeps using that analogy, don't they? The brief flash of expression on his face is something between a grimace and an apologetic smile.]
I think I'd have to say the latter. [He doesn't remove the gloves, but the mental image brought up (careful and removed, like showing a photograph) is of the metal limb attached to his right arm.]
... kind of have first hand experience, there.
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My sense of humour is... quite, unfortunate at times.
[ Morbid, might be the word for it. ]
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[Morbid humor is a coping mechanism, half the time, in his case. And it's not always easy to translate.]
Honestly, if you ever hear me making a bad hand-related joke... you can laugh. Or tell me it's bad.
Everyone else does.
[NAILED IT?? Maybe. He does feel bad he ended up causing this kind of awkwardness here.]
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Still, thank you for the warning. I shall look forward to my new... adjustment. With such an endorsement.
[ Her own dry counter, at least a little lighter, now that she is sure she hasn't over stepped too much. ]
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[He'll accept the slight, brief smile. Some of his are about that way, these days.]
[Case in point. One of them at the corner of his mouth before he goes on.]
I'm not the best at mental shielding, but if that would help, I can show you what the others have taught me so far.
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[ She smooths her hands out flat, eyes dropping briefly with the offer, contemplation rather than dismissal however. ]
How do would you do such?
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[It's how Sam showed him, when he'd first arrived. Something to go off of. Something to build on.]
I'd... have to show you in your head, our heads, though. So it's your call.
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Very well. How do I... let you in.
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Might be easier with physical contact. I'll just... project something your way. Build up the shield around it, so you can see.
I'll use a mental image of someone here. [No sense in trying for a memory or anything too potentially overwhelming. He holds a hand out to her again.] That's all.
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There, she means, go ahead, he has her permission. ]
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[It's Pidge, because of course it is. Her, hunched over her laptop, fingers flying at a pace human beings probably shouldn't be able to type at. Nothing attached but fond feelings -- family, he's so proud of her, couldn't do it without her -- surrounding the image.]
[Then, as promised, he starts to pull the walls back up. Darkening the image first, like the sky beginning to dim in twilight. Stars appear, obscuring it further. Until he can pull up the swirling colors of nebulae and stardust. And there's nothing left but space.]
[Once it's in place, he pulls his hand back from hers, looking to her face.]
Was that all right?
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Blinks, when it's over, mouth opening in a croak like rising from slumber. ] Fine, perfectly fine.
[ She wets her lips, assembling herself back together again. Before she looks up to him. ] May I try?
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Good. It definitely takes some getting used to.
[He'll wait, though, as long as she needs. It's the least he can do -- almost everyone he'd met when he arrived had been patient, besides.]
Yeah. Whenever you're ready.
[He holds his hand out again, for her to take at her leisure.]
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The longing, and the wanting, of something so far gone from her, she doesn't think she even knows what she wants anymore. All of herself, laid out, sparking, darting, twisting around itself like flames around a dry log that is her. Her - not Lakshmi, nor Queen - but Jhansi ki Rani and the embers of everything else that came before that lay below it. A mind older, older than her youthful face masks her as. ]
Alright -
[ And slowly, she takes the strongest thing she ever knew. The walls of Jhansi - high, strong, powerful, where she walks in her dreams so often. They rise up and up and up. Impenetrable stone walls that from which she looks down from, the figure of Shiva, that as she recounts the names she once used to calm her mind, she wraps those walls like his many arms, and as powerful as the trident he holds - The universal destroyer, He whole holds the bow, the arrow, the skull, the lightning bolt, the battle-axe, the sword and the trident; he who is beginning, middle and end. Unfolds and unfolds to be great and tall and worn through against all these wars and yet withstood them all. Here, come, she wants it to say, lay siege. I have withstood them before. ]
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[As much as her concerns start to echo his own -- his team, their cause, Allura, the Black Lion -- he grimaces, thinks of the memory of Bucky's coin in his hand. Steadies again and forces himself back. To observe. To not sink in so much it rouses the beast of his own symbiote. He can feel its wariness rising at her reaction to whoever this "Elena" is.]
Doing great --
[Sort of. Got to keep positive. Encouraging.]
[But it's true, in short order. What she pulls together is downright impressive for a first go. He can feel it when the sensations cut off. A feeling like an oven closing, the sudden rush of cooler air across scorched skin. Relief flooding down his shoulders.]
[The monster in his head goes back to sleep. And the encouragement turns to a brief grin.]
You're good.
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My - priests often led us to the instruction of clearing our minds. I do not think they expected it to be so direct of course.
[ A shaky, quick laugh as she drops her head, rubbing her forehead to ease the pressure. ]
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[A trace of humor in the words, though they come out a little breathlessly too.]
[The smile stays.]
Really. You did a great job. A lot faster than I ever did.
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Well met, I am in your debt for it.
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