[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

[huntsmachines]

[ There's something else in Aloy that she tries to keep muted. A sharp, annoyed, irrational pain that Clarke brings up; a sense that the world is distinctly unfair. Aloy doesn't want to give into it, wants to press on. The mission must come before any personal feelings and it's not fair to Clarke for her to feel this way anyway so she shoves it into the back of her head as far from the other woman as possible. If she represses it, it won't bother or anyone else, right? She and Clarke are eerily similar in that respect.

Clarke's response receives something like a mental shrug, though that tendril of doubt gets a gentle nudge of reassurance along the way. ]

( I'm not really clear on it either. I'm just watching Lexa's back and playing bodyguard until I'm needed for something. )

[ The mention of Lexa brings a certain warmth to the fore of Aoy's mental words, barely tinged by that aching feeling from earlier. ]

[skaikru]

( the warmth that colors aloy at the mention of lexa's name is double in clarke. triple, maybe. there is something distinctly magical about hearing people say her name without a hint of mourning or sadness, bitterness or hatred. it serves as a reinforcement to the fact that lexa is very, very much alive and well here. clarke is still reeling from the discovery a few hours past, from the reintroduction — she's ecstatic, relieved, comforted. and yet, those feelings are tainted around the edges, jagged and floating above the pain of losing lexa once already. eclipsing the hurt didn't mean it wasn't there. )

( You know Lexa? )

( although the conversation doesn't call for it, and they're in the midst of people, she turns bodily to aloy, gives her full attention and the impression of a small smile. it's...kind of a stupid question, which clarke only registers after the fact. in this world, it seemed safe to assume everyone knew everyone. still, she's a quietly besotted fool, struggling to get a grip on her thoughts: green eyes, a well defined cupid's bow, the length of tattoos that look like planets over the ridges of the spine. )

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy can feel the warmth that emanates from Clarke at the mention of Lexa and she has to firmly take that sharp, upset, unhappy feeling that threatens to bubble up out of her mind like so much bile and shove it back down. For the first time since she's arrived, the hivemind is something she hates. How much longer can she hide this from Clarke? Or from Lexa for that matter? Will they (no, she) push Aloy away? Aloy focuses on her breathing. Still as new-fallen snow, Aloy. You can do this. ]

( Yes. She was one of the first people I met when I woke up here. She... reminds me a lot of home. )

[ Home is tall mountains capped with snow and pine forests and open grasslands along riverbanks. But Lexa... Lexa is strong and controlled and leads. She doesn't treat Aloy like a goddess or an outcast, just a person. There is something undeniable that tugs at Aloy and she follows it. How else are you supposed to deal with those emotions? Warmth bubbles up again and it flares brighter as she gets those thoughts from Clarke. She knew the eyes, the shape of Lexa's face, but those tattoos are new to her. Aloy feels almost as if she's intruded on something intimate, not meant for her but she embraces it anyway and captures the image in her mind. She can have these memories, if nothing else, can't she? The happy, giddy feeling is irrepressible and by letting it go, at least it will cloak her less charitable emotions in warmth and happiness for moment. ]

( She makes me feel like I might have a place here. )

[skaikru]

( clarke's new, but not dumb. never so blindsided by love to ignore the world around her, and she and aloy don't need to be broodmates for her to gather the pieces together and realize there's something off in their conversation. weighted, heavy emotions that don't seem to match up — or slide in alongside each other a little too completely; the warmth between them is too instantaneous, too warm — and leave her a little... confused. it's not the same as rust, mat, or kaji, where the four of them feed into an emotional loop that seems like it could go on and on, never stopping. no, this disconnect has clarke stopping short, tilting her head to look at aloy's silohuette out of the corner of her eye, and trying to focus.

muted, softer and more composed: )

( Yeah, she can have that effect on people. )

[huntsmachines]

[ ALoy doesn't want this. She wants to be able to be friends with Clarke. Comrades in arms. Most of all she doesn't want her stupid, unattainable crush to grow into something that keeps all of them from working together to do what needs to be done. She can't help it though and the warmth, that affection--it's addicting. Aloy lets herself settle into a bit more. Foolish. She's slowly becoming more unguarded, her mental walls slipping a little. ]

( I'm glad she's here. And I'm glad you're here. )

[ What does that even mean? Aloy isn't sure, all she knows is the burst of overwhelming emotion that came earlier. She wants things to be good. Happy. Simple. That's for the best, right? ]

[skaikru]

( Thanks. I'm glad to be here. )

( is she, though? while the initial devastation of being wrenched from her home in the middle of a very important mission battling something akin to the symbiotes they all sported in their heads has subsided significantly since her heart to heart with bellamy, and the conflicting pain and joy at reuniting with lexa had sent clarke to a whole other plane of complex, happy emotions, she wasn't... glad about any of this. the prospect of never going home again, of home being destroyed, that wasn't a happy sentiment. never seeing her family, never seeing her other friends again... that even less so. her earth had been war torn and deadly, but it'd still been hers, and they'd been fighting to make it livable.

still attempting to politely keep from prodding at aloy's conscious, clarke corrects herself: )

( I'm glad I can maybe help here. )

[huntsmachines]

( We have to do what we can now that we're here. There's no use in wishing we weren't. And I want to help, too. We have to, don't we? )

[ Aloy knows she should be doing her best to retreat inside of herself mentally, but it's hard. Part of her doesn't want to. The comforting warmth, the mental touch, the feeling of not being alone... she doesn't want any of it to go. She takes a breath and her shoulders shift under her layers of clothing. ]

( I do miss home, though. )

[ The temptation to simply let down her mental walls and let everything flood out of her tugs at Aloy. It would be so easy and maybe even something of a relief to let go of this emotional knot and maybe talk to someone about it. But Clarke... probably isn't that someone. Aloy wishes she were though. ]

( Sometimes being in each other's heads makes things weird. But I think I'm getting used to it. )

[skaikru]

( there's the sensation of pulling back — or rather, trying and failing to. clarke imitates as best she can, partly out of a sense of politeness and the sanctity of private thoughts, and partially because... well, it's a little awkward. the air between them has grown a little tense since they'd recognized the connection they had further inside the nest: lexa, and some variation of strong sentiments towards.

in a bid to salvage things, they're moving on. ignoring those undefined emotions. clarke smiles tightly behind the curtain of her veil, inclines her head ever so slightly. there's a sense of warm, but half-hearted humor. self depriciation to cover the guise of real concern. ) ( I don't know if I ever will. )

( she'd always been sympathetic, always felt for other people. really, this wasn't new — just heightened. )

( What do you miss the most? About your home. )

[huntsmachines]

[ There's a heavy acknowledgement there. There's that same warm feeling towards Lexa, the same admiration. Dedication. Desire, even. Aloy doesn't want to discuss it, doesn't want to intrude on Clarke or Lexa or whatever it is they have even though there's a tinge of hurt and regret and jealousy that lingers in the back of her head. Move on, yes. That's the best thing. If they stay on these feelings, they might have to confront something unpleasant and heavy. They don't need the distraction here. ]

( The mountains, I think. )

[ Images of tall, snow-capped mountains, pine forests clinging stubbornly to their flanks. The snow glistens in the sunlight, deep shadows cover their valleys. The view from them is staggering. There are also brief impressions of people. A dark woman with a teasing voice and confident stride. An older woman who smells of sweat and soot and the forge. Someone closer to Aloy's age, tracking through tall, sweet-smelling grass. They linger for a moment and then are swept away by Aloy's thoughts. Better not to think of them. ]

[skaikru]

( maybe aloy doesn't want to linger on the homesick sentiments, but clarke catches those images. fleeting but beautiful. whatever nostalgia hooks in aloy's chest reverberates in her own, but it's weakened by the shadow cast by snowy peaks and rough rock faces. people had called her the mountain slayer, and while that reputation didn't carry over into this new world, the history of mount weather subsisted within her mind. its downfall linked with her own.

still — )

( That's beautiful. )

( clarke lingers for a moment on her own question, thinks of what she misses. the novelty of earth had worn off quickly, replaced with a healthy fear and respect for the turbulant planet. but damn if she didn't feel robbed of familiar soil beneath her feet, the smell of decaying leaves, and the taste of river water. they'd only had a few months on the ground. )

( I miss my people. )

( already. she's been here two days and has been plagued by desperate, dirty, pained faces in her memory for the entirety. bellamy, lexa, and murphy had eased the ache, and they'd all in turn assured her that her mission in the city of light had been a success. but in the end, that only partially alleviated the guilt of having abandoned those who needed her. )

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy feels some gratification when others admire her home, even if only through her memories. She smiles and her head ducks a little at Clarke's words. Beautiful. Yes, that was home. But would she ever see it again? ]

( It really is. )

[ Clarke's sentiment is also reciprocated. The people are who she misses, though she's not sure sometimes if she misses her people specifically. The Nora had always been uncomfortable with her one way or another and she wasn't sure if that would ever change. ]

( I miss mine, too. I think that's why I was drawn towards Lexa. She reminds me of home. )

[ Was that weird? Don't be weird, Aloy. ]

[skaikru]

( .... yeah, aloy, that was a little weird. that rounded the conversation right back around to the decidedly turbulent emotional waters between them that were lexa, and clarke is again faced with the distinct impression that there's something intense there, but doesn't feel like it is her place to pry.

luckily, this is the one instance in which she seems capable of choking down her curiosity; of skating over emotional rips that threatened to shake the tenuous pleasantness of their conversation, and smoothing right back into idle small talk.

after a bit of an awkward beat, of course. )

( So how long have you been here? )

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy isn't the most socially adept person, but even she can feel that awkward hitch the conversation takes. Mentally, she kicks herself for a moment over the way she brought the conversation back around to that rather unfortunate topic. She swallows. Thankfully, Clarke seems ready to simply move on, though part of Aloy wants to spill her emotions onto someone, anyone. She feels as if she might burst. ]

( I'm not sure. Without the sun on the station it's hard to tell. We've been on the planet a few days. )

[skaikru]

( she's new, and highly sensitive to the push and pull of others. despite her efforts, clarke is still whirling in the sensations that all the other hosts allow to slip through the cracks, and the impression of swelling to the point of bursting with — questions? feelings? — everything she gets from aloy has her a little on edge. it's nowhere near as abrasive as those first few hours circling a portion of her broodmates on the station, but it's still enough.

enough to push on to other bland questions. ...or not so bland, considering the amount of suspicion she loads on, directed outward; back towards the people who had engineered this mission in the first place. )

( And how long do you think we'll be down here? On this planet. )

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy feels like she might vibrate out of her skin if she lets herself dwell on how she's feeling right now. She's thankful for the bland questions and the chatter about what they're here for. It keeps her from sticking her foot in her mouth over and over as she tries to decipher what it means to be around people so much. There's no space, no way to retreat and wander the wild for a few days, a week, a month. However long she wants solitude. ]

( I can't say. This is the first time I've been along on one of these things. I wish I could tell you more. Sorry. )

[skaikru]

( It's alright. )

( it's not alright, and clarke is still brimming with the frustration of unanswered questions and unclear guidelines, but none of it is aloy's fault. clarke swallows her discontent stiffly, but manages to breathe around the lump it leaves in her throat. she'll find the answers eventually. )

( What can you tell me about the station, then? )

( sure, the new hosts had a full 24 hours on board the spaceship. but it's a little hard to focus on sussing out the details while dealing with, well, everything else that was new and oh so very loud. )

[huntsmachines]

( It's strange. It reminds me of the Old One's bunkers in some ways--I don't even realize I'm among the stars most of the time. Some parts of it are familiar, they look like the bunkers I spoke of. Others are strange and alien. I haven't fully explored it yet. )

[ Images of abandoned, broken facilities overgrown with stone and soil and plants, the crunch of long broken glass underneath her feet. These sensations mingle with the strange cleanliness of the station. The smell of chlorine at the pool. ]

( This is all strange to me. It's very far beyond what I know. )

[skaikru]

( I guess we're all a little out of our comfort zones. )

( are they though? are they really? clarke is still putting all her artistry to good use, and drawing uncomfortable parallels between the station and the ark, between mount weather and the mission on hyrypia. it's all so beyond what she has the scope to understand, but the meat of the conflict is eerily similar enough to leave a bad taste on her tongue. to exhaust her simply by imagining all the ways things could go wrong. there is a pang of homesickness that isn't really homesickness. at least in her world, the threat looming above their heads had been known. the plan they'd had to defeat alie had been dangerous, haphazard and desperate. but at least they'd been doing something more than sitting in an outdoor amphitheater and making casual conversation.

she's withdrawing from aloy mentally before she really means to. buttoning up what limited control over her thoughts she has, shifting her feet against the ground like she's ready to rise. but first, there is a a proper goodbye. clarke turns bodily to the other woman; offers an inclination of her head, the impression of an otherwise unseen smile. )

( It was nice to meet you, Aloy. But I think I should get back to the rooms. )

( it's not entirely to avoid any further awkward rushes of emotion when the conversation inevitably drags back around to lexa. clarke hadn't slept on the station, hadn't eaten. and she had a lot to ponder and digest before trying to get some rest. )