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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!))
no subject
( When dance too is given in thanks, it is quite easy you'll find. )
[ The dance and music and life that she remembers so fondly. ]
no subject
[ If there was ever levity in Bellamy Blake's body, it was crushed under the weight of Octavia's existence. A child keeping a secret that all-consuming had left little room for anything else. ]
( If we live through this, I'll have to learn. )
[ It's not the kind of thanks he thinks Lakshmi means. But Bellamy doesn't know how to thank anyone for Clarke's presence, or for Murphy's presence, or even Lexa's. This life is more curse than salvation in Bellamy's view. The crushing relief of being reunited with Clarke is tempered by how much she has lost by waking here. Steering the conversation towards the kind of gratitude meant for their mission makes it easier to consider thanks, rather than trying to think how best to celebrate Clarke's hatch. ]
no subject
[ This world of nobility demands it, in her experience. Cruelties that are dressed up as gentility. Malhari had been so beautiful. Her lips full and her voice sweet as Krishna's flute, there was not a man that would have been able to stop himself from loving her, bowing to her will.
It had made her cruel, greedy and consuming. Able to snare those to do her bidding for her. ]
( Games are always played in performances such as these. )
no subject
[ Polis hadn't been a place given to dancing from what Bellamy had seen. Dancing on the Ark was limited, and it only reminds Bellamy of the single dance he had attended and how it had ended with him having to watch as Octavia was taken from him. The lush, ornate world he catches glimpses of in Lakshmi's mind are as alien to him as the planet they're inhabiting at the moment. ]
( Maybe back in our apartments. I doubt I'm the only one who needs to learn that skill. )
[ But maybe it's not even something she has to teach. Maybe it's something she can wedge into their minds gently, and let it take root. ]
no subject
[ Lakshmi stop talking metaphors to the poor small boy, that clearly is new at these games. ]
( I only know a few forms. But we can sort something out, I suspect. We are strange and mysterious, after all, aren't we? Who are they to know if what we do is right or wrong? )
[ Her own attempt to easing his concerns where it is concerned. ]
no subject
( I find it easier not to tell them very much at all. )
[ Bellamy's less concerned about the factions around them sussing out a discordant note on their own than he is about contradicting what's already been said by another member of their team. Surely even the lowest bodyguard or attendant will eventually compare notes with another. Bellamy doesn't want to be the one who has shared too much, taken the wrong tack and compromised them unknowingly. ]
( I wish there was a better way to do this. )
no subject
[ It's tired, sigh, and like setting something in place that she knew she would always have to do, anyway. ]
( Who is organising our movements? )
no subject
[ Bellamy is already bracing against the protest he expects from her. ]
( We decide our approach together. Right now, we're just observing. )
[ There's a flicker of discord in his thoughts, remembering the briefing. But would it really be a surprise to know that their approach had been hotly contested? ]
no subject
Probably wise to brace against it. ]
( Even Godwin knew better in a time of crises. This is idiotic. )
[ Erg. ]
( No matter then. Observing at least is useful. Everyone has kept to that? No one has run off like an idiot? )
[ Distantly, faintly, there's a stab and a regret, - Galahad, you fool. That comes up no further after it is sent away. ]
no subject
( No. )
[ Though it would be an utter lie to say Bellamy didn't also have his doubts. He'd discussed them at length with Lexa, but he still bristles at Lakshmi's reaction. He's wary of strikes him as unfounded judgments. It still riles him, the same way Marcus Kane had once done. ]
( The stakes are too high. This mission isn't like the ones we were sent on before. )
[ And no one wants to die. ]
no subject
( A pleasant happenstance, I am not used to them being anything less. )
no subject
[ There's a flare of grim humor, followed by an echo of adrenaline, hands at his throat, blank-faced combatants crowding through burst-open doors. ]
( If we can't deal with this diplomatically, we'll have to do something extreme. )
[ Blow up the planet. Possibly die. You know, the usual. ]
no subject
[ Because she really can't get on any kind of horse over those kinds of stakes, and she tries to be blunt about what she's done, what she's capable of. ]
no subject
[ The death toll wasn't something Bellamy was prepared to shoulder. Not again. Especially not now that Clarke was involved. He straightens his back, squares his shoulders, as if physically steeling himself against the idea of it. ]
( Will you be alright on your own if I go back in? )
[ Under the veil, Bellamy's lips curve in a smile; he already knows the answer to that question. ]
no subject
( We both know the answer to that. )
no subject
( Call if you need me. )