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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
Not quite. [ as much as he found soldiers - or vague soldier types - who refused to give him the satisfaction of open feedback, kaji could at least acknowledge the logic and judgement behind the man's frigid, frustrating conversational style. all the pain in his ass... and all the retention of his. ] But when you decline my offer twice, what else am I supposed to think?
[ tell me, is the unexpressed challenge, which clashes with kaji's still peaceful, ever easy going expression. ]
You don't say. How long?
no subject
[Someday, Shiro will not deflect with bad humor. Today is not that day. Today is the day for depreciation via deadpan nonsense. If he had pockets, he'd probably have shoved his hands into them. As it stands, he just sort of... shrugs.]
[Man, he's too tired for this challenge thing.]
It's hard to tell. Every planet has its own way of keeping time. And so does the Station -- keeping on a twenty-four-seven calendar just gets your head scrambled.
This is my third mission. The other two lasted... thirty days or so? But no way to tell how long we were up on the station in between.
no subject
and something tells him extracting that information would be like untangling a rat's nest of endless deflections, everything intertwined and twisted together in one mindless, formless mass. suddenly, kaji stands up, with all the appearance of somehow who is willing to try. ]
Really? That's too bad. [ he liked, or rather thrived, on challenges. kaji tucks his chair in and rounds the table, meeting shiro's gaze with a gentle sort of confidence. ] But, from what I can tell, your backside looks just fine.
no subject
[For his part, Shiro doesn't move. Just arches an eyebrow at the approach, staying put.]
You know that wasn't serious, right?
[He's not even going to acknowledge the mental sputtering his brain is going through at that comment. Because what even. What is with people here and trying to fluster him? Is this some kind of national station-wide hobby?]
no subject
I don't take to joking well.
[ spoken like a man who's paid to craft jokes from thin air. leaning back against the table with boneless grace, kaji extends a hand sidelong. the eyes go a long way in communicating dares, and his floating arm hangs like a provocation. ]
Kaji.
no subject
[Deadpan serious. For the latter half of that statement.]
[And there's the handshake. He didn't initiate it. So there's not really a chance to swap hands. He's going to rely on the disguise. If only because he really does not feel like going through this discussion.]
Shiro.
[He slides his right hand, metal fingers under a layer of disguise, into the handshake.]
no subject
Shiro-kun. [ there's holding a hand, soft and warm, encased in thick fabric, and there's holding a hand, stiff and inflexible, encased in thick fabric. for his part, kaji doesn't so much as flinch. the story behind this prosthetic doesn't interest him. soldiers are soldiers are soldiers. kaji's imagination serves him just well.
he returns the shake with a practiced aplomb. ] Tell me about the roles here.
no subject
[One handshake. Easy and solid.]
Our cover story? Or in general?
[One has a more concrete answer than the other, after all.]
no subject
[ you'll have to forgive him, shiro, he's still learning the ropes. and while you're at it, forgive him, shiro-kun, for falling back on respectable naming conventions in his addresses to you. the amount of distance he's stubbornly created between them all but invited the honorific, even as kaji is starting to suspect that this man is japanese only by name and ancestry alone. ]
I've heard things here and there about bodyguards, and servants. And, well, you offered your help.
no subject
Right.
[That, he can do. He nods, folding his arms and leaning sideways against the table himself.] People who figure they've got more people and politic skills are taking diplomat roles. The rest of us are the other two categories.
[And everyone fought or yelled or debated about it way too much. But that's beside the point.]
Since no one sees our faces, we're all just sort of following whichever "diplomat" we're closest to. But... since no one wanted to talk strategy at our original briefing, who exactly is playing politics is up in the air.
[Excuse him if he doesn't sound thrilled about that part.]
no subject
kaji listens with an increasingly fascinated sort of interest. rhan and siva'co made no formal mention of taking on predesignated undercover roles, which leads him to believe that the idea was cooked up by one of the hosts. and evidently the idea was never formalized, and is at best just a vague recommendation for which people have wildly different interpretations on how to best implement it.
sounds like the absence of a central chain of command. sounds like an operation they've been set up to fail. sounds like one hot, steaming mess. sounds like... ]
Sounds like there's no love lost there. [ what of the hosts who've arrived after designations have been made? the idea of limiting himself to one cleanly prescribed role doesn't inspire kaji's endorsement. he was, and always will be, a rouge agent. ] And what about you?
no subject
[No, there isn't any love lost. He really does not understand why it's so hard to just team up. Just agree to work together. Why is that so hard? Not even the team back home had that many problems with working together.]
[Which is seriously saying something.]
[He blows out a breath, pushing both hands through his hair.]
Me? I'm the bodyguard.