[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

ota

[adamance]

i: preparations

[The idea of these trials doesn't sit well with Lexa the moment they're announced, but she's not one to sit idle and hope for the best at all times. There are moments where caution has its place. When everyone thought to look for the feeling of dread—a thing that she viewed as likely shapeless and formless, she let them go. To her, there was no real reason in risking herself.

But this is different. Lexa knows that this war isn't only a matter of strength, but a matter of control. Earning control comes in different ways, and she knows that they can show their strength here. They are an unknown entity.

Her preparation is in line with that: she works hard in the hours heading up to the event, preparing herself with obstacles, albeit make-shift ones. Should anyone come to observe her from the Nest, she'll reach out with her mind to say:] ( We have an opportunity to prove ourselves. It's time to do that. If nothing else, it will make it easier for us to bypass niceties when we approach others. ) [By now, Lexa knows that feats of strength are not the only thing that other cultures tend to value. This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't valued somewhat here. That's the important part.]

ii: aftermath of the race

[Throughout the race, one thing is clear: they are meant to cut each other down. Only the strongest of their warriors would have normally taken this route, and she witnesses that rather quickly. Isn't that the point? Her suspicion toward the Hyrypians raises the moment they drop out of view, ready to race, tumble, and fight their way to the end. As a member of Trikru, of her coalition, Lexa doesn't believe in losing to seem meek, and she's far from opposed to playing dirty. If it gets her a victory, then that's all that matters. If it gets her to the end, still riding strong, then that matters, too.

For the other members of the Nest who are partaking in this particular leg of the trials, it will be apparent that Lexa means business (so to speak). Her ruthlessness will be on display as she has to make immediate, cutthroat choices: will it be her who gets to the end or them? Some part of her is wizened up to the idea that she's meant to make enemies here. She's meant to be cut down afterward. But there will be others who favor that.

As it is, she doesn't reach the end of the race without her blows. Dehydrated (not from use of her power, but from expending too much energy while fully covered), slightly concussed from a blow to the head, and a little dizzy, she climbs off her Elin to the cheering finality of it all, ready to tumble over.

There is the sense—unspoken, either because of pride or because her mind is a little jarred—that she could use some help, and she doesn't trust the natives to this universe to help her. Please help her, or she may not be able to remain standing for long.]

iii: meditation and enemies

[There are some from the other factions who undoubtedly appreciated her ruthlessness in the final trial of the day, but there are others who didn't. It's fair that Lexa would be more concerned with the latter. She takes to a familiar spot in front of her tent, legs crossed, body entirely covered (as always), as she tries to calm herself. There's a dull, familiar ache in her head from the day's proceedings, but she's feeling better than she did at the very tail end of the race.

Her mind reaches out, almost like a nod of acknowledgement, to anyone who might be close. She then says,] ( Be wary of being friendly. Or take note of who might take issue with it. I believe we forged some important connections today, but not all connections are positive. We can't be unprepared for retaliation. ) [And that may happen.]

iv: wildcard

[Scold Lexa for being ruthless, thread with her during the race itself, partake in post-race comfort, or whatever. I'm down for anything!]

ii >> in the aftermath

[otrazhenie]

[ The race is unlike anything Elena's ever experienced before. She'd been in competitions before, knew what it was to fight to the top of a ranking, but this? This is brutal, and all bets are off as they speed through the obstacles. There are a number of occasions where only her vampire reflexes keep her seated on her Elin, and even they fail her once when she does fall, dislocating her shoulder as she barely managed to catch her mount in time to stay in the race.

She's not as cutthroat as some of the others in her actions, but the predator in her does rise to the surface a few times, following the examples of other competitors to take out a few not of the Nest. By the end, she isn't in first place, but not at the very end of the survivors either.

That sense of needing help doesn't go unnoticed as she leaves her Elin to be cared for, and it takes only seconds for her to reach this person's side, moving quickly and just barely able to refrain from using her enhanced speed to go even faster. It would be a bad idea, and for once she realizes that before acting and causing more trouble than good. There's barely any water wrapped around her mind to keep her thoughts her own as she holds out an arm, and there's a sincerity and concern to those thoughts that is entirely genuine. ]

( Here, let me help you. )

[adamance]

[Lexa had noticed Elena's return. But since there had been little time to see the girl she had spoken to only briefly before, she hadn't bothered to change her tactics. They hadn't known one another well. Like many, Lexa had tried to ensure that Elena had been prepared for what lied ahead. A return would only mean she was more prepared. When Elena had come into the race, Lexa had received the first tip off that something had changed, and the following race itself—during which she had to be conscious of the other Hosts, as she had to ensure that her actions didn't have consequences for them—made that clearer. As a warrior among her people, Lexa is predatory because she has no choice but to survive.

The Elena she spoke to before had none of that experience. Seeing her now, it's difficult, almost impossible to put them alongside one another. The disparity is very apparent to her. What happened?

Naturally, the race hadn't been the place for that, and it hadn't been a thing to be brought to her attention until afterward—until now.

The support is meant with a sense of appreciation, and she leans into her, glad for it. Her body will recover, will heal—it just needs time and a chance to be away from all of this.]

( You've changed. ) [Leave it to Lexa to take this opportunity now, but she can't help it.]

[otrazhenie]

[ Elena hasn't heard much about Lexa, just a mention here or there in conversation, but she has a good impression of the other woman, one which isn't altered in the slightest by her statement as Elena gives her the support she needs. She is confused by it, though. ]

( What do you mean? )

[ It takes no effort whatsoever to keep Lexa standing, Elena's strength enough to do the job without any exertion. She's not able to see her face or read her expression though, so she makes her confusion and curiosity apparent in her thoughts, letting it rise to the top of the weak oceanic shields around her mind. ]

[adamance]

( We spoke before, when you first arrived. Your mind felt different then. ) ["Younger" is the unspoken notion, but more naive, more willing to act with trepidation. Lexa had seen her as someone in over her head. The contrast is noticeable, especially to someone like Lexa who feels as if she's entitled to being in the know.]

[otrazhenie]

[ Young, naive, she'd likely been both of those things, the Elena who was there before. It's still strange to think about, that there was another her on the Station, asleep with memories she didn't have. ]

( I don't remember being here before. But I'm from... around a year after she was, I think. )

[ It's easier to think of them as two different people. She certainly feels like an entirely different person than she had been at that time. Since then, so many people in her life have died, herself included. It's hard to even remember what it was like to be the Elena from back then. ]

[adamance]

[Unlike most, Lexa is in the unique situation to understand what it means for there to be more than one. It had settled in with the help of Carata, but Lexa knows that she is not the Lexa of Clarke or Bellamy or Murphy's worlds. That Lexa died, while she lived on, escaping from the peril of her death mere minutes before.

She registers the words with an understanding, curious about whether this has come up before now. With other Hosts. But it's hard to say, and they aren't in a place to explore it. As Hosts, they are meant to serve out their lives or die trying. That's how the elder Hosts have presented it, and Lexa has seen no reason to believe anything to the contrary.

That doesn't mean she likes it—but she believes it just the same.]

( I see. Overlapping and similar worlds but not the same. It may be better that you're more ready for this experience than she had been. What lies ahead will be no less difficult than what we just faced. )

[otrazhenie]

[ All of this is still difficult for Elena to wrap her head around, though she is trying. Unfortunately, figuring out the Host side of her new life has taken a bit of a back seat to figuring out how the Vampire side. Screwing up either could get people killed, so she's trying, but it's so much harder than she tends to let on. She's gotten good at lying to others about how she's coping with things; sometimes she can even convince herself to believe it. ]

( Why do you think we're doing all of this? What's the purpose of it? )

[ The competitions, not the mission as a whole. ]

[adamance]

( To foster enmity between us. They made a show of saying that we could all be welcomed as part of the family at the beginning. Now, we find ourselves fighting in unseen areas. Did they truly believe that we would ride without attacking one another? )

[That last bit is nothing but rhetorical. The clear answer, as far as Lexa is concerned, is "no." A lot of her viewpoints here are decided by instinct and experience. If she had set this up, what would be her reasoning?

But then, it's not as if she's inexperienced in matters of war.]

iii

[sistershoggoth]

[ Annie took the same approach, what she lacked in any skill in riding, she was sure should could make up for in elbows to the head. She doesn't really care for Lexa, but she at least appreciates her take care of business attitude, ]

( Connections with my fist... )

[adamance]

( You would be wise to keep them to yourself now. )

[The race all but asked for that of them. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been constructed in such a way. But now that they are at the end of it, there's no reason to create more enemies, but to see who means to act as an Enemy when they're disadvantaged already.]

[sistershoggoth]

( C'mon now. How stupid do I look? I've been on my best behavior since I got here. I haven't punched or cussed out anyone out of turn. )

[ She's pretty sure this one is biologically incapable of not being condescending though, so whatever. ]

[adamance]

( Given your response, I had no way of knowing whether you intended to act that way moving forward. We haven't had cause to familiarize ourselves with one another. )

[The underlying statement is this: Lexa hasn't had much reason to give Annie her attention since she's returned. But that's less a matter of superiority and more because of Lexa's own actions and priorities (what with her fear that this is all a trap, set up to lure them to their inevitable doom).]

[sistershoggoth]

( Yeah, definitely, I'm just gonna wander around the camp punching people, from here on out. Promise. )

[ Mild, bored. ]

[adamance]

( First you respond with the fact that you're behaving, and then you feel the need to say that you'll do exactly the thing I fear you'll do, after I've already accepted my fault.

What are you hoping to gain here? )

[If anything, for that matter. If she's not looking to argue or discuss the race, then Lexa is willing to move on. She has more important matters to attend to, not the least of which being the injuries she sustained that day.]

[sistershoggoth]

( You're not real good at being like, a person, are you. Me neither, it's fine. Hi, I'm Annie, you made an open comment that I responded to with agreement and humor, camaraderie even, that you took too fuckin' literally, so I answered you sarcastically because I couldn't believe you couldn't read between the lines enough to get that shit. )

[ She's somewhere flopped over staring at the sky wondering what her life as become. ]

( By the way, you ask me that like... Every fuckin' time we talk. 'What do you hope to gain.' You got a one track mind. Which, whatever, you do you, but it sure makes you a fuckin' pain to talk to. )

[adamance]

( Let me make one thing clear. My impression of you was tarnished by your approach to one of my students, treating her as if you could bully her into following your whims, as if there was nothing else to gain from the mission at hand. It was enough of an impression that I've failed to partake in this so-called camaraderie since then.

Both times, I wondered what you hoped to gain. And both times, I've come away believing that you don't think before you speak, and you aren't worth my time. A third impression won't be necessary. )

[If there had been more to their conversations, Lexa would be fairer here. But there hadn't been (and more frankly, Lexa herself isn't one for small talk).]

ii

[wrackful]

[Given the amount of weird crap they'd had to deal with on the last competition they'd signed up for, Murphy hadn't been interested in throwing himself into this one. The fact he's still disquieted by the Elin themselves only compounded it, so when it seemed like enough hosts were going to cover the spread anyway, he'd gladly kept himself to spectator only.

Not that the final race is available to spectate on, much. Still, he's there at the finishing line, and he's there to see Lexa climb down off her Elin, looking a hell of a lot like she's going to fall over.

It might not be noticeable to most. Murphy knows her posture, her movements - distinctive enough to pick up on even through their sparse and usually terse interactions. Something's happened out during the race, and in the split-second decision of helping versus leaving her to it, he doesn't pick the option most - and likely her - would probably think he would.]

( Yeah, I know, it's me. )

[As he comes over to her, stepping in close to give her his side to lean against. His tone's dry, pre-emptively trying to head off the objections to help from him that he's pretty certain she'll immediately fall to. He isn't doing anything to hide the genuine concern rising behind his thoughts.]

( What happened? )

[You're hurt, he doesn't say, in case it starts an argument. It doesn't need saying anyway. He just needs to know how hurt, how quickly he should be trying to get her somewhere safe.]

[adamance]

[The fact that Murphy heads off any of the tension that could easily rise between them is a surprise. Lexa is an odd mix of an individual who is at once prideful and wise, knowing better than to spit on the hand that offers her assistance. She recalls Clarke's remarks when she had come to her room after the fight with Roan, as Clarke had assumed she showed up to say "I told you so." In that moment, she had said "thank you" instead. It had taken a lot, but after the cloud of her pride disappeared, she knew that Clarke had done everything in her power to try to keep her alive.

Here, for some reason, Murphy does the same. Her head aches too much for pride, which is why there is nothing more than a reticent acknowledgement as she leans against him. There is reluctance, but she won't demand answers for why he's doing this. How will that benefit either of them?]

( I refused to fail. I believe that may have been costly. ) [That doesn't tell him anything. She realizes that a second too late, and she adds:] ( In doing so, I opened myself up to a number of attacks as we all tried to succeed. My head may have been the most deserving. ) [Just maybe.]

[wrackful]

( No one watching, no reason to fight fair. )

[Expanding on what she's said. It makes sense, and he glances back at the other competitors, looking, briefly, for obvious signs of injury. But they aren't his concern. There's a part of him that says Lexa isn't his concern, either, but he's here now, and having her functional for the mission was better than not.]

( I can check you for head injuries, but we'll need to get back to the tent. )

[If she can get that far, if she'll accept him helping her.]

[adamance]

[As difficult as Lexa can be at times, she fights off all of her worst temptations here. After all, being able to amicably handle things with Murphy will benefit her in the long term. Her mind is hazy, but that much is clear. That she's failed is something she blames on him, though.

So, if he's helping—then, to her, he's coming to his senses.

(Lexa logic in a nutshell.)]

( Then let us return. If I continue to wear these layers, I may not survive for much longer. ) [Her people wear a great deal of black, but her choice of armor has always been thinner and lighter for a reason. She likes to be quick, and her ability to move is hindered right now.]

[wrackful]

[There's a single beat of silence.]

( Was that a joke? ) [The incredulity and bemusement in his expression as he looks sideways at her might be hidden by his veil, but it's evident enough in his tone.] ( They must have got some serious hits in. )

[All the more reason to get her checked over quickly, and he shifts to get an arm under her shoulder so they can start walking.]

[adamance]

( Perhaps you simply have a knack for taking all the humor out of things. ) [Snide, but not ... callous, like the prickly banter between two people who don't consider each other comrades, but are forced on a journey together. That's essentially what this is.

She swallows, and she realizes that her head feels ... somewhat detached, like the lightness is what she can muster up, but anything heavier, with purpose, escapes her. That lack of control irritates her, so her jaw sets underneath the cloth, and she pointedly makes her mind clear as to whether she wants to move quickly.

(Even if "quickly" is hardly recommended in these circumstances.)]

[wrackful]

( Yeah, that's me. Just a regular fun leech. )

[Dry, lacking any sincerity. Even if he knows his humour can veer pretty damn macabre, it isn't something he's going to self-deprecate about.]

( You at least got them back, right? )

[It almost doesn't need asking, but the answer isn't really the point. Keeping Lexa talking and thinking is, as Murphy moves them as quickly as he can back towards the tents.]

[adamance]

( They were retaliating. )

[Blood must have blood—so to speak. But to retaliate, she's not one to take a blow without giving it in return. She's not here to die, to fall off her Elin and be given to nothing. No matter what respect she might have for their revenge, she's not bound to let them take it fully.]

( Some of them were ill-prepared to do so, however. )

[Leave it to a grounder to make this sound like actual humor coming from her mouth.

Or mind, as it may be.]