[mission: hyrypia] give me my scallop shell of quiet, my staff of faith to walk upon

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :013
SUMMARY: A day of competition begins, and Hosts put their newfound skills to the test.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

THE GRAZE
DAY :013

A MOURNFUL SOUND passes across the Graze in the early hours of the morning: the mingling drone of the wind coming up across the flatlands and funneling into the depths of the Finger Maze. It saws, a tired, hollow constant noise. Carried with it up through the Great Flat are maybe forty visitors carried by a variety of carts and wagons, automated and incredibly austentatious live mounts. Apparently the events of the day are drawing a crowd from the surrounding farms and homesteads on top of the various diplomatic envoys already in attendance.

After a brisk, light breakfast the short blare of a horn cuts across the encampment. It seems it's time to saddle up.



I. THE SIDELINES
A CHEER SWELLS up from the assemblage of Rabadoceans as a team successfully completes their event. On a nearby platform, musicians takes turns striking up a series of fast paced, sparkling tunes and the tang of roasting meat is heavy in the air. There's a sense of festival in this that quickly becomes lively as the Hyrypians' official pleasantries cede encourage the Meradan's cheerful, competitive shouting and the Descendants'' entertained clapping and smiling. There might even be a few smiles to be seen among the typically grim faced Carpathan diplomatic envoy.

Get something to eat. Talk to a stranger. Make friends. Sabotage a competing team. Most importantly: keep your eyes and ears open. For every moment you might spend machinating, someone (or something) else might be doing the same.

II. THE SORTING
THE SUN HAS FULLY RISEN by the time the first event is ready to begin. There has been a constant bustle up until this point, people meeting up and splitting off again, members of Envoy’s checking in with each other, carefully discussing their strategies- or laughing the challenges off as a game. Now, all of the competitors are gathered together to be given their tools- the ropes and crooks of the Gryer wranglers- even as the spectators begin to gather at the edges of the large pen, some standing at the fences, other on long staggered benches along the edges. There are a flags strung up all along the fences and large banners fly from the outermost posts of the pen. When it is nearly time the teams are split- each of the members led to a different point on the outside of the pen, to the gates that will set them loose upon the false gryer within.

When it is time for the Hosts to begin, the gates are again reset, the Gryer are all released from their holding pens, and the spectators have become no less raucous. They’re so loud it’s almost hard to hear the horn that calls from the holding pen, but the gates that spring open in front of the hosts are signal enough for them to begin. They are afforded just enough time to make their way fully into the pen before the three Gryer are lit, scattered through the herd and still milling about. The clock- or whatever passes for a clock- is ticking, and the faster they manage the task- if they manage it- the better.

When it is over, the crowd cheers, either way- energized by the competition and the strong grassy flavored drink that seems to improve every Rabadocean’s mood.

III. THE MESSENGER RACE
A SERIES OF FLAGS marks the route of the relay race that runs along the edge of the outermost cliff faces - not that it's necessary. Spectators are strung along the sidelines that it might be possible to run the race using only them as a guide for where to go. The course itself is studded with obstacles - logs and ditches, stacks of brush and at least a few imposing walls made from coral harvested out of the Finger Maze. The riders of each team are dispersed along the length of the course toward the finish line, quiet and lonely (if you disregard the forty or so other riders from competing teams in your company) and waiting in the midday heat for--

The short burst of a horn. The first string of Elin and riders, each in possession of a ceremonial scroll, launch forward across the starting line. Hopefully. What would be even better? If they keep all their riders in the process.

IV. THE ELINMASTER RUN
THE FINAL EVENT comes late - so late that the sun is already beginning to move towards the high horizon of the clifftops, leaving a cool purple cast across the landscape as the competitors and spectators alike are gathered at the yawning entrance of the isolated splinter of the Finger Maze. Unlike the other events, there is no seating, no rows, no stretches of banners or strings of flags. The environment doesn’t allow for it. Instead there are ropes separating the milling crowds from the riders. There are no gates and no strict starting point; rather, there is an area the width of the entrance and forty feet behind it that the racers may begin from. A large number are clustered near the very front - eager but clearly at extra risk, the metal and rubber flesh of the Elin automatons pressed close enough to crush. In the stillness of the near-evening air, the anticipation for this event is more subdued. More hushed. It's clear that the majority of the race will not be visible to spectators or judges. There will be only a small party waiting at the end of the course, ready in the clearing to mark places, and no witnesses before that.

The most senior members of House Basittia stand on either side of the entrance, protected by the ropes and flashy in their officiator-wear. When the horn is blown, sharp and with very little warning, it echoes down the length of the waiting canyon walls. It echoes strangely, broken only by the sound of metal hooves pounding forward into the maze and out of sight.

The first challenge is immediate - beyond the wide entrance the canyon begins to narrow dramatically. Those who have chosen the front of the pack will be forced to either get ahead or muscle their way through the others around them. Those that have chosen to stay further back will find that the distance between them and the next rider ahead of them narrows. Before there is much chance to adjust to the new positions, there is the first obstacle - a ditch, narrow but sudden, ready to take the legs out from under an Elin that fails to jump. From there the course begins in earnest. A number of paths split off from the main line, each with their own challenges. Coral branches fallen in the path, others arching just over rider’s heads. The course is full of switchbacks and sudden turns and in places the ground is made of pebbles that slide beneath the metallic hooves of the mechanical beasts. The course narrows in sections, barely wide enough to allow one rider to pass, and as the race stretches on fewer and fewer are able to continue. Some riders simply fall, others are knocked off, others foul their mounts and end up as new obstacles for those behind them.

By the time the end is in sight - a large open clearing, the far end of which has a simple stage where the judges wait - many racers have been unseated and countless others have simply fallen behind. But for those who make it to the end, there is a note in an ancient looking tome and a ribbon to be tied around their wrists to show that they have completed their trial. They will linger there in the winner’s circle until the last of the racers trickle in. Once that happens, they will be allowed at a much more sedate pace to make their way out of the canyon and into the awaiting cheering crowd - into the beginning of night and the lighting of the great braziers and flames, the scent of a well-earned meal that awaits them carried across the Graze by the mournful sigh of the wind.

V. BEFORE, AFTER, AND BETWEEN
THE COMPETITION stretches long, each individual challenge met by scores of Envoys eager to impress or simply eager for something to entertain themselves with. But the day is made far longer by the time between the competitions which is filled with talk, general chatter, and some good- and less good-natured betting - all lubricated by a constant stream of the cool grass drink that’s growing rapidly more popular as the sun’s heat increases. There's plenty to do- and plenty to enjoy between the events themselves. People will have little trouble finding things to keep busy with. And after the competition is said and done there is dinner (of course), the great dining tents pulled open and even more crowded than before with the additional local color. It’s those locals, and perhaps the camaraderie born of shared experience, which seems to help encourage some of the Envoys to intermingle more than they have before.

Of course, not everyone is in a good mood. Some of the participants didn't perform as well as others. Bruised egos are as abundant as bruised bodies among some envoys... a potentially volatile situation considering the close quarters they share with other Rabadoceans who clearly think very highly of their own performances.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers the competition events of Day :013 and any related sideline activities. You can find a full breakdown of the events/a place for mini-event specific questions HERE. Sign-ups will remain open until the next event log goes live, however going forward please make sure to either join the individual event or have a full team selected for the team events. Please be aware that signing up late won't give you extra time to finish your thread to qualify for the finale event.

Have more generalized questions? Drop them on the MISSION: HYRYPIA OOC POST or get in touch with us on the Mod Contact page.))

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( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[ryohji]

( Well, I'm pleased to know sex talk exists on other planets, too. )

"Back in my day?" I don't like the implications of that," Kaji smiles, even though he knew his company couldn't appreciate it for what it's worth. Short of taking hard narcotics, there was no finer form of entertainment than making people feel increasingly uncomfortable. For his part, he is honored to relegate flirting to unconscious reflex action. "Don't tell me. Some things should never fall out of style."

A whistle of mock frustration, contriving to convey that Kaji's subtlety held less credibility than a bottomless and broken cup.

"Should we toss our plans for tonight, then? I can't have us seeming old-fashioned."

[otrazhenie]

[ Elena isn't used to people being so straight-forward, saying only what they mean and intend to and letting it be at that. Dealing with the Mikaelsons has made her overanalyze everything, pick apart statements to try to see to the meaning beneath, and even if she gets it wrong, she's trying to keep those habits sharp. For now...

If that's all there is to the question, then she'll let it be. But there's something she can't let rest as it is. ]

( I don't mean to be rude, but-- How would you know? You've never done it. )

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka instantly scoffs at the idea, even as she gathers up the folds of her robes and ties them out of the way so they won't catch on branches or the Elin or something else.

( I'm not going to lose intentionally. If someone is actually good enough to beat us, whatever- )

Although, really, she'll still be pissy about it.

( But I'm not going to throw this thing. )

It's not as if this race matters in the grand scheme of things, but it's really the first chance she's had to show off in ages and she's going to take it. She needs to prove something to herself. And maybe more importantly, she needs to prove to Seviilia that she's not deadweight.

No pun intended.

[perroquet]

He feels the disapproval of his new queen, but only holds it in regard of her as fellow brood. Fine, she and Seviilia and Mr. Darcy Darkling don't have to take his support if they think they are all above it, but he'll provide Miss Asuka with the advantage of magic well before she's out the gate. As for the nature of that magic-

(Bard magic goes in all directions, Miss Seviilia. Light, dark, neutral. The spells I have in mind for today all lean towards the latter two.)

And for their desire for sabotage-

(If someone can provide me with a visual I can make sense of... then I might be able to cast spells on specific riders, given I am within range. The front rows should allow me that.)

His staff digs further into the ground, mental voice taut with begrudging agreement. But he offered all this, and he'll do it.

(I'm beginning to believe this entire Pilgrimage is a test to determine the most worthy of all the envoys. To that end I agree with Miss Asuka. Until we determine whose side this mysterious enemy of ours is on, we would do well to do well.)

[shiro2hero]

(Avoid, be careful of -- word choice doesn't matter. I meant the faction we're supposed to be stopping.)

[He's tired. But that's not really anything new. He's been tired for a long time. There's a headache flicking over his temples. Also nothing new.]

[And -- oh. So that's who this is. There's a little irritation then. Because that had been the morning after he'd spent a good chunk of the night talking with Aloy. Helping her. Making sure she was all right.]

(I was dealing with something else at the time.)

[sizeofyourbaggage]

( They're the end of a limb, technically. )

[ Although he'd actually taking them from molted feathers on the twins' back - he sure as hell wasn't gonna pull flight feathers off their wings - but still. It's much more important to make Shiro laugh. ]

( If you win it'll be all you, but I'll thank 'em anyway. )

[perroquet]

[ He says nothing on the dismissal word choice, but a violin strikes a sharp chord in place of his thoughts. He's too untrained with the connection, and his opinion slips anyway - he doesn't fully agree, but in this case agrees it is trivial. ]

(So sorry to have interrupted.)

[ And then the opposite happens - he speaks, but there is no feeling of regret coming through his still wide-open connection. No dip in the mental symphony that plays softly somewhere in an unseen pit. He just goes through the motion of an apology anyway, for the sake of politeness. ]

(It was my hopeful attempt to build more bridges between hosts. Still is. There are so many walls.)

Closed to Kaji

[greentech]

[ Pidge's meeting with Kaji had been by chance, but after some discussion, they'd both agreed on one thing: they needed to ensure that their crewmates finished near the top of the lists at the competition the next day. Which meant that sabotage was clearly the best option. Besides, Kaji seemed very interested in hearing about what Pidge could do if she got her hands on something mechanical. Like, say, the Elin.

It's dark out now and they're both wrapped in their layers of cloth. She glances up at him as they pick their way through the sprawl of tents and campfires. Most of htem have burned low by now, but here and there there are still a few people awake and speaking in low voices. Overhead, the sky is a wonderful expanse of stars. ]

( I just want to make sure we don't get any that anyone from our side is going to be riding... )

[ Sides. However much she doesn't like being here, she still thinks of the Nest as "hers". ]

[isorropia]

[If there is a chance of him stepping mentally between the two of them, it seems slim. His thoughts fully removed from their back and forth, more focused on- just there, a scent in the wind, his chin tipping to the distant cliffs. Something stirring dirt, mouth parting to take in- nothing, through the veils and over the distance. The musty smell of sweat and the distinct scent of Rabadoceans- like damp leather.

He answers Shiro first with a mental shrug, clarifying with simple words-]( Or lose. It does not truly matter. )

[They weren't here to play Hyrypian games. They needed to participate enough to prove their genuine interest in the pilgrimage, enough not to draw the ire of their hosts or the suspicions of the rest. Anything beyond that was not crucial. If Rust's question, in light of that, seems extraneous, he doesn't seem to mind- it had other purposes than this one test.]

( Yes. No. You can learn the instinct of it, but your body doesn't know the motions. They be messy, less practiced. Attempting a difficult task you have never done before could cause injury- [The pale echo of a feeling, a muscle stretching long, a shoulder popping out of place, a weak ankle rolling. The issue of attempting something in a way meant for a different body than your own- more notable between them. Siva'co shifts his feet in the high boots, toes pressing wide against the sole of them. The feeling, each toe- three- spread wide, the catch of claws, the way he rests no weight on his heel- alien and out of body.] but yes. Some things. )

[His own careful balance, shoulders back- and his own discomfort in the saddle. He had grown competent, but he had less practice riding beasts than machines. The Elin were something in between.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

( There's probably a reason why you treat people like possessions, and maybe it's a good one, but I'm still gonna judge you a little for it. )

[ He can't think of anything else he's holier-than about, any other reason why he might think he's better than the Darkling. Honestly, Sam's not sure he does think that, but he's not sure he doesn't, either. There's the faint curl of a smile - Sam knows the feeling of satisfaction from the ache of a work out - and it doesn't fade even with the mention of Steve, though it turns bittersweet. Close is one word for it. ]

( Gone and come back and gone again. ) [ Like so many of them have, like everyone in the Station who's been a Host longer than Sam - except Cathaway and Prince, maybe. Even those he hatched with, but not him. Sam doesn't know why, but he's glad for it. There's no question that as long as he's got a say in it, he'll be there for Shiro and Clint. ] ( Traitorous part? )

[shiro2hero]

(Why is everyone here so concerned with technicalities?)

[But Sam, at least, doesn't get the question asked with irritation. If anything, he's the cure for the headaches the others cause. It's more prodding at him. Joking with him.]

(Yeah, thank them anyway. You know how well birds and cats get along.)

[That... joke doesn't even make sense, and he's abruptly aware of that fact. Making a face under his disguise. Wow, that was bad.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

( Yeah, might have. ) [ Look, Sam is nothing if not honest, all right. He's not gonna lie to her and say that it wouldn't have made a difference - because having time to train, to learn what your new normal is without getting thrown into a situation like this, it's always a good thing. ] ( But there's good things about doing it with a mind link. )

[ He's vaguely planning on continuing, explaining he knows from experience 'cause there's other people here that he loves who can't see past what they are or the things they've done, who slip out of control and need help learning how to handle it - but then he can feel her hunger.

Sam breathes automatically, reaching out to curl his mind around hers. Nothing to be sorry for, not with him. ]

( We got this, Elena. Is this an 'I'm really hungry and I need something to keep me going' kind or a 'I need something to focus to get past the craving' kind? )

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There's something about the way that Nyx says better off sticking to your own types that gets Sam's hackles up, even if they're talking about nobility. It's different than what Sam knows from back home, but he can't help the kneejerk reaction.

Especially when he starts getting the impression that it wasn't just among the royalty. ]

( You got that even in the Glaive? )

no worries at all!

[shiro2hero]

[It is a concern for later. Something to discuss when they're not on the edge of a competition. Something that might actually help, in some way. Even if the impression from Siva'co says otherwise. It's a conversation for later. Face to face. And verbal, if he has anything to say about it.]

[To the imagery, he nods, nudging his mount forward a few steps to make way for the others. Listening to the answer of memory and muscle conditioning. He'd thought maybe that's why riding with Aloy felt like it helped. It doesn't sound like it -- and he can't withhold the wince of sympathy at the remembered injury.]

[But... some things rings true. Echoes with the memory of riding behind her, trying to keep up, keep his balance. So maybe he wasn't wrong, after all.]

(Thank you, for assisting us,) [he tells the older Host. Squaring up his own shoulders in answer. Nodding forward.] (One rope, snag as many as we can that way, and go from there?)

[Is this the plan they'll take? There probably isn't much time left to debate.]

2

[shiro2hero]

[Whatever happened in his own competition, after their tent conversation, you can bet he's trying to keep an eye on Aloy. As much as possible. He's worried about her -- not because of the competition, but just... in general. She's a friend, and she was hurting.]

[Enough said, in his book.]

[There's water in one hand, because it's hard not to feel the need for it off her, and... stops short, when she hisses to the ground.]

Hey -- let me see.

[He's no medic. But he can try. He will try.]

[wille]

[ Ah. Ah. The realization slots into place with a neat click in her mind, a straightening of her shoulders as she fully turns toward Lexa. Her gaze is sharp even from under the shadow of her hood, and it is unrelenting. The implication is grave, hard to swallow, a piece of information that demands a fundamental reorganizing of the whole. Messy and uncomfortable, but necessary. ]

( Divide and conquer? )

[ Her bruise throbs. She can feel the beat of her quickening heart to its rhythm. But this isn't fear, no, it's arousal, excitement, or a rose by any other name. The Basittia dignitaries suddenly seem suspect to her, their occasional laughter losing their innocence to gain a menacing edge. ]

( If you're right, we're in deeper shit than even Rhan can joke about. We can't keep playing along. )

[wille]

"No turning back without giving it a real shot!" Misato is a hair's breadth away from stomping her foot and pumping her fist in the most contrived display of cheerfulness and indefatigable optimism. Truly, this corner of the room is quickly turning into a contest of actors playing at acting, liars telling bad lies to avoid being found out as a liar.

"Now, you--" the third Meradan, a daring finger pointed right toward him. "I'd give you the hood off my back for a kiss but wouldn't that leave your friends in the cold? We were thinking instead . . . "

She turns to Kaji in her loss for words, then Bellamy.

( Okay, but, what do you call a threesome with six people? Sixsome? That's so weird. )

[deployed]

( Don't make any promises we can't keep. )

"She was thinking of more than light conversation, but that's nothing new," Bellamy says smoothly.

Every complaint he'd had about the veils and robes can be taken back by now. Bellamy knows his face would have immediately given something away.

All his association with the Meredan hasn't left him in a position to judge their reactions. Bellamy steps in slightly, closer to the brazier, but hopefully closing the gap between their two parties and get him closer to his intended target.

[onemind]

"My, and before we even know your names. You Carbauschians aren't what I would've have expected."

"They're overwhelmed by your service record, Arin," says Bellamy's target with a flash of a grin and their third companion laughs out loud, clapping Arin on the shoulder.

"Well can you blame me? I'm properly sick of light conversation." Arin affects a high, faux smooth accent. "'Oh where do you come from? Where's that? Let's avoid talking about the war, shall we? How passé,' and so on and so--"

Bellamy's target cuts her companion off with a sparkling smile and a shoulder check. "I'm Olair, that's Renaldt, and this old bastard's the one and only Arin demar Flay. Thank the stars."

Renaldt takes his hand from his cloak and touches his forefinger to his temple in acknowledgement. "Pleasure." And winks at Misato.

Re: 2

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy hurriedly shakes her head as she glances around at the others. She takes a breath, then offers a hand out to Shiro, gesturing for him to help her up. ]

( Not here. They can't see us underneath all of these veils, remember? )

[ Regardless of whether or not Shiro actually gives her a hand, she's trying to force herself up to her feet so she can hobble towards some place a bit more sheltered. ]

closed to lexa's tent / mental link open for broodmates.

[deployed]

[ It turns out, the consequences of having used his power don't lessen with repeat use. Just like the first two times, he feels illness wash over him only moments after he's successfully infected his target. Bellamy feels badly over what he's done after the fact, guilt pulsing distantly as he forces himself to stay upright as he falls into step between Misato and Kaji. They bracket him all the way back to the tent, though Bellamy staggers out of formation once they get inside, yanking at his veil.

All the layers are abruptly stifling. His skin's gone clammy with sweat, and it's hard to breathe with cloth draped over his face. Bellamy has to sit down hard to strip it off. There's a split second where he hates the lack of privacy in this tent. It's worse than the jail; it matters that these people are seeing him like this, where the occupants of the medical wing of the jail on Concordia had never mattered. It matters what spills out of his head here, with such an audience. ]

It'll pass, [ Bellamy says, clearly intending to ward off any questions before they start. ] We'll both be fine afterwards.

[ No one's dying. It's not that kind of sickness; it's nasty, but it's the kind that people survive. If he'd killed that officer on Concordia, he'd have been moved into a different cell block. That had been vaguely comforting then, and it's useful to hold in his mind now, warding off memories of the drop ship and Octavia's hand on his brow as he'd choked up blood.

He puts his head between his knees now, groaning as he fumbles one-handed with the constricting collar of his robe. ]

[ ooc | murphy has first dibs, then anyone else in the tent who wants a crack at him! broodmates can hit him up mentally, as always. ]

[unsea]

( What's a little judgement among a shared consciousness, after all. )

[ everyone influences everyone; unfortunately. it means that sam's influence among gacrux is twofold, rather than just a peripheral thing. that's what the darkling is most sore about - his own brood turning outside of their unit, to others, for something else. something he could have easily provided them. it's fine, though. that's something that can be handled, and later. ]

( The symbiote - the greatest traitor, the one that divulges all our little whims and moods.

I'm sorry. About Steve. He and I did not see eye-to-eye, but he was stalwart, trustworthy. Without he and Ilde, the nest's structure seems to have... capsized. )

[shiro2hero]

[And once again, concern overrides caution. He stops. And nods. Reaching to take her hand and pull her up.]

(Sorry. You're right. Think you can make it back to the tents?)

[He's prepared to carry her, if it's that bad, but with Aloy, he doubts it'll be necessary. Ducking under her arm to sling it over his shoulders.]

closed to adrasteius.

[deployed]

[ By the time morning comes, Bellamy is still suffering the effects of the blowback. He hasn't shaken the sickness. Some symptoms have eased, but he's still clammy with sweat under his robes and veils, still nauseous and dizzy. But he knows without being told that languishing in the tent for the entire day isn't an option. The best way to divert attention is to be seen upright and seemingly unaffected. He'll have to hide behind his robes, and wait out the last few hours. Bellamy signed himself up for this, so he joins the crowd of spectator without complaint, even if his miserable mood is radiating in a low undercurrent outward through the Nest.

He gravitates immediately to the first veiled figure he sees. Bellamy reaches to grip Adra's elbow, grounding himself. His back is straight, but he wishes the band would quiet and people would stop shouting. He surveys the area grumpily before lightly nudging at Adra's mind. ]

( Sorry, ) [ for the immediate invasion of his spce. ] ( Have they started? )

[servitor]

[The reaction he gets, the feeling through the link, is... unfortunately familiar. Personal, even.]

( Yeah. No one likes you when you're not a local. )

[The rhetoric had become vile as tensions became worse. No one needs you refugees jumpin' around, being heroes.

The fire in his link flares angrily for a moment, simmers right back down and almost contained in glass. He'd heard something like that so many times. People stared because he was so different, so wild. On the worst days, he was an object to be observed and possibly refused or ignored.

They were all foreigners, unwelcome by many who saw them as taking jobs and eating through resources that were already sparse. They even had their own district, within Lucis, but a different enough world.]