[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.))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[aluminumandash]

( Makes sense. ) [ Rust's voice like breath caught in the throat, neither here nor there. He's jarred out of his body, reshaped into something strange and familiar at once. Awe briefly overrides his senses, his thoughts skitter: a last resort, the weight of a pistol and the sense of taking aim. The word “knack.”

His grip tightens; his Elin snorts in displeasure, stomps its feet. A handful of seconds pass before Rust leans down to stroke its neck. ] ( Mmmhmm. ) [ Half-aloud, an answer to Shiro and an attempt to calm his mount. ] ( You're gonna have to be flexible, alright? Plans turn to shit fast. )

[ Not a command, not even advice—a last-ditch attempt at making something stick. A feeling of futility—paralytic—as he says it. ]

[ryohji]

( Let's suspend our complaints until we've handled them around for a while. )

[ in more immediate and practical terms, kaji was willing to take extra hour longer to actually set foot inside the stables if it meant avoiding detection. but as they thread through the throng of characters, their destination rapidly approaching line of sight, he realizes that the the hyrypians would be truly hard pressed to rival the level of security he was used to.

'standing guard' was something of an expression, because the individuals charged with the task looked more like tourists than wardens: chatting amongst themselves several feet off post. barring any disruptions, they could both sneak through the double doored ingress without difficulty. ]

( Runs in the family, huh? Not that I don't trust you, but seeing is believing. If you manage to help me pull this off, Pidge, I'll be impressed. ) [ his steps soften and slow, cueing pidge to follow his lead. ] ( Ah, one more thing. If anyone asks, you're my niece, and robots are just about your favorite thing in the... well, universe. )

[sistershoggoth]

( Exactly. Not like I put out a call to all of you dickheads and most of you ignored me. It's fine, we don't gotta get along or play nice. As long as someone on our side wins, am I right? )

[ She's inflating the issue on purpose, just talking shit, but she's also half serious. This group sure did have a way of only seeing and hearing what they felt like. ]

[greentech]

( Hey, I'm used to computers and shuttle pods and space-ships. Give me a break! )

[ She slows slightly as they start to approach and her gaze slides over the guards. Or "guards", really. They're more there to keep an eye on the Elin then to keep people out, apparently. She glances sidelong at Kaji from under her veil and gives him a quick look. Impressed, huh? Looks like she'll have to give him something worthwhile -
her pride isn't going to let her do any less. ]

( OK, the first part is the only bit that's a lie so it should be easy. Hope you're as good at talking as you seem to think you are... )

[ She rolls her shoulders and then gives him a nod. Lead the way, Kaji. ]

[shiro2hero]

[Part of him wants to concede the point, and agree, but another part wants to say something to the effect of can we talk about this later?]

[If only because, well. About to try and wrangle robot sheep. Or whatever passed for them.]

(We do, though. And we should. If nothing else, everything we're doing here proves that. We all need to be better at working together.)

[Apparently when two parts of you have differing opinions, you go for Speech Mode.]

[shiro2hero]

[There's a headache building up behind his walls. Probably fatigue. It wouldn't be the first or last time that happened, anyway. He's about to rise, turn around, and duck into the tent to put a blanket over his face for a while. It helped sometimes.]

[He's used to very few people tracking him down this way. All of them are people close to him. Pidge. The other people sharing his Brood. And Sam. People he could count on one hand. Needless to say, the fact someone else does it puts his back up again.]

[Especially the tap on his foot.]

[It makes him get to his feet, bracing, before his brain catches up and recognizes another disguise. And the voice.]

Shiro, yes.

[wille]

[ Casual and businesslike. Impersonal, isn't he? Well, she can only blame herself for setting the precedent.

That she can claim no victory for her recent exertion does little to temper her levity, right now she feels that she has paid her dues in full, earned her place and proven her worth, a hero returning triumphant from the battlefield, bruised and bloodied with the rush of having courted death only to escape unscathed. He misunderstands her words for their more innocuous meaning.

She knows to set the empty glass aside first, her movement as deliberate as her intent is capricious, when next she loops her arms about his neck, leverage for a kiss, urgent and demanding, the kind that forces her to forgo breathing because an inhale would have softened the gesture and she has no need for softness. It is risky, yes, which is perhaps the point she means to emphasize, but risk is also her mistress, the one she dallies with at any given chance. ]

What else belongs to me?

[wille]

[ One hates and loves in the other what one recognizes in oneself, isn't it so?

Misato desists, because the point has been taken, and instead silences herself by taking a sip of the green drink. This, too, is alcoholic even if only mild so. ]

( It's fine to dream if you don't abandon reality for it. I don't mean the agents are trying to trick us, but maybe, they were tricked too. I don't know who to believe. )

I

[wille]

[ There are only a handful of ways to make her do anything she doesn't want to -- one is to goad and challenge her, a perilous endeavor at best, and the other is this, rely on her reflex to take what's offered before her mind processes what it is she's doing. That is, helping a competitor onto her Elin before she herself is seated. It is the easy way Lakshmi seems to expect this, as if it's the most natural thing in the world to make herself comfortable up there on her steed without once questioning the merit treating another as her stablehand, that stops Misato from voicing much protest for a few moments too long. ]

Can you help me up mine too or is it kinda late to ask?

[perroquet]

[ His voice is much more cheerful in person. Easier to mask his own fatigue from the day with the practiced tones of formal pleasantries. ]

Hello. Sorry that took so long. Pleasure to finally meet-

[ Though he stops, just short of a handshake. Shiro's mind is closed, but it doesn't take much for Gildor to taste the tenseness in the air, or hear the shortness in his tone. Perhaps he's one of the "anti-socials" Pidge warned him to tread lightly with. So he withdraws, gripping both hands along the long wooden staff he carries instead. ]

I... sorry. We can do proper introductions later if you're not feeling well. I don't mean to be a bother. I know I certainly can be-

[ The burdens of extraverts when they want to get to know people at the wrong time. Gildor isn't proud of it, but he's used to feeling like a burden. ]

[ryohji]

[ this should come as no surprise. when things go katsuragi misato's way, when she brings her obstacles to heel, however big or small, it is just like her to indulge herself immediately afterwards. what is a foible of human nature she takes beyond reason or convention. this is the aftermath of the soul salvage project dressed up in alien pony show.

the correct answer is nothing much. a life through the looking prism of possession and control distorts the reality everyone must face: that everything, even their minds, will escape them sooner or later, faster if they find themselves thinking they've got it under control, faster even when they thrust a pin through its wings to keep it neatly in place.

it doesn't stop him from returning the kiss, as if to say, i do, don't i?, in anticipation of her question. ]

You, [ he'll be the first to break for air, hands clamping under her armpits, squeezing her sides to needle at her predictability. he wonders, too, if it's more than adrenaline, but patience wearing thin for him, the games they've played and continue to play, tip toeing around each other out of necessity. ] have a big head, hiding under that hood.

[ she wouldn't be herself, otherwise, and ergo he wouldn't have it any other way. ] So, you mean business.

[ryohji]

( If all goes well, I won't need to speak a word. )

[ even as the guards are committed to convince them of their incompetence, kaji isn't inclined to traipse through the entrance like they own the place. he is so fundamentally out of his element here that it forces him back into a more traditional spy mold, one that champions caution above the swaggering over-exposure more characteristic of his style.

for now. ]

( Let's circle around the perimeter to find any backdoors. But when we do, don't look up at me so much. Wallk with a purpose. You belong here. Follow the sound of my mind if you have to. ) [ as much as it pains him to say it. ]

[wille]

[ It's the natural cycle of things as far as she's concerned. A sozu, filling with water only for the inevitable outpouring. Reward follows close on the heels of trials, punishment right behind indulgence, and so it goes, hollow joys and the subsequent self-flagellation. She labels each polar end with such certainty belying the truth that both are at its core one and the same. It hurts to be touched, her body beginning to tell her of the parts that will soon bruise and remind her of her own fragility for days.

When she gasps from the pressure of his hands it is from pain, only the kind familiar to her, one she expects and wants and knows how to savor. How easy it is to mistake the remaining thrill from a brush with mortality for the thrill of anticipating pain for the thrill of yearning for him.

And when he calls out her arrogance, she laughs, defiant, to prove him right. ]

Don't we deserve it? If not, I'll make it so. Just tell me how.

[somnifacient]

(I am focused!)

[He's not. But to be fair, once the race kicks off properly, he will be.]

(I can multi-task just fine. You sound like a mom.)

[A mom that calls their kids dickheads, but a mom nonetheless. Let him worry about you, Annie, not the other way around!]

[hymnals]

[ Adrasteius scoffs as he snaps his fingers; a second later, Misato will find herself levitating--a very subtle and hardly noticeable couple of inches off of the ground. Enough to ease the burden of her own injured weight. ]

( You're a little young for me. )

[ He's pretty sure that applies to the entire nest, honestly. He jerks his head towards the edge of the crowd, then leads her out and away--towards some secluded spot where nothing can spy on them except the trees. ]

( Now, let's have a look. )

( closed to sam and shiro )

[miscreant]

[Winning the race hadn't necessarily been easy, but it had never been in question. She had dumbed down the last leg of the relay race for the benefit of the Nest only, but it would have been a cold day in hell for her to have kept from showing off. If Seviilia had but one flaw, it was her pride.

She's spent most of dinner entertaining other Rabadoceans fawning over her prowess, so its no surprise that she's looking for an escape. Not too far away among the press of others, she spots the heads of both Shiro and Sam first as they weave their way about the crowd.]

( You don't look busy. )

[She speaks to both of them, attention obviously divided between them, the drink in her hand, and the surrounding crowd.]

( Come absolve me of this rabble before I...accidentally...trip one of them trying to do so on my own. )

ii.

[hymnals]

[ Adra's been on the lookout for any injuries. He doesn't give a fig one way or the other if their people actually win this thing--he's not sure what doing so would really prove, beyond perhaps the fleeting satisfaction of one's own ego. Not a good enough reason, to his mind.

But where there's a fight, there's blood, even if it's an accident. He spots Aloy clutching at her leg as he surveys the winner's circle, his neutral expression turning quickly to concern. He hurries over, forcing himself not to teleport or float. ]

Hey, hey. Let me have a look at that.

[ He kneels down beside her, frowning. ]

Is it broken? Or just sprained?

[hymnals]

[ So the thing about sharing all of your thoughts and feelings via an intimate mental link with dozens of people is that it's really hard to act tough. They aren't broodmates, but their proximity reveals enough--the tendrils of nausea, the sickly heat. ]

( Perhaps. I'm not really paying attention. )

[ He covers Bellamy's hand with his own, frowning. ]

( Will you let me help you? )

ii.

[hymnals]

[ Adra watches this sudden, joyous procession, and watches the woman at its center even more closely. Their connection thrums like a tuning fork, alive with her elation, but it's a more powerful and heady sense than usual--as though the connection's been briefly turbocharged. Adra follows the feeling, becoming more interested when its bottom drops out, when Lakshmi's energy melts into exhaustion. He catches up with her easily, reaches to touch her shoulder. ]

( Are you all right? )

[shiro2hero]

[After his own competition, he'd naturally sought out familiar company. Well, after the competition and threading his way through onlookers and potential well-wishers. Very... very well-wishers. He's sort of looking forward to doing nothing except shrugging off the disguise and going over whatever information they'd gotten.]

[You know, like a shut-in.]

[Seviilia (thankfully) ruins that. She's not unwelcome -- far from it. He's always sort of liked her, her directness, and... other things that will not factor into his mind, thank you.]

(Really? I was trying to go for the 'busy bodyguard' look.)

[He's already taken a half-step in her direction, glancing at Sam to follow.]

("Accidentally"?)

[ryohji]

[ that earns her a headshake, ruefully amused. he isn't amiss to notice her gasp, and she won't be amiss to notice the pointed delay between her gasp and his letting off. he knows better not to separate her from that which would pain and challenge her. to treat her with kid gloves was to commit a grave sin with karmic implications. judging from her attitude, one could conclude she'd been born in a dry dock, rather than a hospital bed, with arms and legs like landing pylons. ]

You'd have to find some way to go back in time and rewrite my history. I think we can both agree you're better off saving your breath.

[ always taking on the impossible, and nothing is more insurmountable than the reality warping gymnastics required to make him deserving. kaji thinks misato is better of speaking for herself. ]

Speaking of, and I hate to point this out now, but 'breath' is something you seem a little lacking in. [ this she will interpret as a challenge no matter his most concerned intentions. there is nothing he could do. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ Why the hell's he so earnest, jeezus. ]

( I'm just fuckin' with you, you square. )

[ Just to smooth it all over before it gets any more serious. This was supposed to be trash talking about wrangling robot sheep, ok?!!?! ]

[sistershoggoth]

( Well, what do you want to do about it? Besides go gossip it up. )

[ That seems the best way to take care of it, really, is just go ask. Although Annie is still getting the hang of the local ways, she's been avoiding being too social lest she misstep. ]

[sistershoggoth]

( Uh, yeah, I'm headmistress of a fuckin' school. )

[ This is her way of completely deflecting.... ]

iii :3

[sistershoggoth]

[ Annie's response to the adrenaline of the day had been to go have some sweaty lesbian sex in another nearby tent. When she and Shep are done with each other, she is also coming out to look for something to wash up with. She's drawn by the sound of water, mostly coming to see how much has been drawn and not expecting to find someone mid bucket dunk. Annie herself is only really in a binder and underwear, just as wretchedly scarred. The biggest and nastiest is the one down the center of her chest, a knotted purple mountain ridge where an inter-dimensional portal had seared itself shut...

She pauses for a second but then just finishes coming in to the tent because she can't linger out in the open, they are supposed to be aliens after all. ]

You mind?

[ Annie is entirely used to sharing everything with her teammates, especially other women, she doesn't give a shit, she'll dunk in that bucket after her. ]