[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

[shri]

I. RUN BOY RUN

[ She walks her Elin to the racing line in an even pace, whisper breathless prayers to it - for speed, for grace, for steadiness, words murmured in Marathi that the symbiote translates through - even if she knows all of that will come for herself, and despite it being explained that these things really aren't alive - well, she figures it can't hurt, can it, to treat it well? The warm brush of her fingers over its metal side. But it's a slow work, and she doesn't do well in her own thoughts when she's a half breadth on the edge of her adrenaline, but kept in and kept back, as to whoever has joined her for the walk out, she passes the reigns to the creature. ]

For a moment, if you would.

[ She hooks her foot to stirrup and pushes up effortless into the saddle. Stretching herself forward to settle in. Settling comfortably for now, rather than in the line she'll need to be when the race starts.

Then she leans forward to take the reigns again. ]

II. IMMEDIATE POST RACE. ( POWERS USAGE )

[ The high from racing - even if not winning, can't be sure until Servillia is done her part - is infectious in its brightness, even if it is like go from cold water into blazing heat where she switches from the enhanced state of the Blackwater in her veins where the world goes slippery smooth - to when she finally tags off to Servillia: a riot of colour in full swing. All of herself reaching out, like one torch lit to another, and then to another, and to another. The few people that come up to either help her dismount seem to catch it too, and her mind is loud. Trumpet loud and blazing in each inhale and exhale. The trumpets of elephants as Chandeliers swing from their tusks. The shot of canons that split the air apart as each breath stings as it comes back into her lungs. She had raced and raced well to all of her ability and right now: that was enough. Her concern about the vampires of the hive, of being so far from her home, her endless, endless wars is gone, and in the small group she has gathered around her as she winds her way back from her portion of the race, seem to feel it too.

In fact they seem to feel it very much. A merry band of followers - even if they don't last long, for a minute, they are as blazingly as brilliant as she is in elation, and it spreads to the few that come up to her.

- And then at once, she crashes. The riding high emotion is shoved back underwater like falling from a great height and she's left unbearably numb to herself, and her little group at once seems to fade away from her and she pushes through the rest of it in a dulled confusion.

Someone just found out their powers. ]

III. OBLIGATORY WET TSHIRT OPTION

[ She's lucky that the deadened sensation fades from her, but not back to that impossible elation, more settled back to herself, more aware, of the sweat cooled on her skin, the dust she's breathed in even through the veils, that stiffling stiffness and - she can't smell good at all right now.

Gets back to her tent, and her plan is relatively simple, once she is there. She gets one (1) bucket of water. Sheds her too many layers, top and all. Winding instead a long wrap of material comfortably over herself - hides whatever she needs it too, if not the old scars, the things that that blackwater couldn't completely take away. The exit wound through her right shoulder, above heart and lung, the scratch of something at her side. Used to, now, as she dips her hands in first, flicks them off and brings them up to her neck to wipe across her skin. One savouring second of cool water to pushed hard body. Then to her braid, unravelling it with quick fingers. Flicking it out in a yank that is more practical than indulgent.

Then unceremoniously tips herself forward, head straight into the water. Thrusting her fingers into her hair against her scalp. Then when she pulls up and back, it's with a happy, content sigh. Better, much better. Back in her own skin again. ]

IV. WILDCARD.

[ Got an idea? Go crazy! ]

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?

[shri]

[ She looks across at Misato and only realizes after wards that other people still - aren't used to such processes. So strange to it. ]

Don't tell me you don't know either?

[ Did everyone come from this magical future where they didn't have to ride anywhere? ]

[wille]

[ It's probably the way the other woman phrases the question, like a challenge, that prompts her to huff in protest. Her petulance is clear for all to see, when she holds her own reins to avoid having to ask Lakshmi for help and to add to her own handicap, before mimicking what she did. One foot in the stirrup and up she goes. Her Elin stumbles and nearly rears back, confused by the sudden weight, and she avoids falling only by her unrelenting grip.

When she, helped by no small measure of luck, finally secures herself on the saddle, she flashes a grin toward her mentor. A promising start to the race, surely. ]

That wasn't too hard!

[shri]

[ And for it - what ripples across the mental link is of warm appreciation. She hasn't minded helping so many with something that was like walking to her - but even so. That she would try despite that ignorance is all Lakshmi wants to see. ]

It isn't. As you do it, you'll get quicker so it won't have time to startle so much at your presence.

[wille]

[ Her Elin is visibly disgruntled still, stomping its feet against the dust in a gesture of irritation and impatience. Misato, for her part, sees no reason to try and comfort it apart from holding fast to the reins. She finds mild appreciation from Lakshmi where she had expected a reprimand, and she responds likewise with surprise, pleasantly perplexed. ]

Is it about doing it fast or doing it right? [ She did the former, or so she thinks, and utterly fails at the latter. ] Yours didn't even realize you're sitting on it.

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? )

[shri]

[ He's of the hive, and it would normally come with a feeling of relief. But right now, she can't even feel that. It's habit that keeps her motions nothing out of the orderly.

But even so, there's a disbelief of her limbs, reaching up to take his hand where he touches her. Laying over it, to make sure it was even there. That it connected to her. Like her skin felt nothing, her mouth forming words that was only the vibrations without form. Vishnu without Lakshmi, was only the moon and there was no beauty to it - ]

( Something... something is wrong... )

[hymnals]

[ Adra's hand is unusually warm, and this warmth resonates through their connection, too--an intense feeling of surety, of peace and comfort. He starts to draw her away from the crowd, though he keeps his steps measured and deliberate as he does so. ]

( Tell me, if you can. )

[shri]

[ It's impossible to pinpoint it, because to know what was wrong, she would have to feel it, wouldn't she? And for that, she latches on more surely to him, letting him guide her forward, mouth numb, tongue behind her teeth and listless. Without form except where he holds her. ]

( I can't.... feel anything. )

[hymnals]

[ Hmm. Adra does not stop walking until they're well away from the competition, from the shouts and cheers, from the heady energy of an energized, anxious crowd. Instead, they're by a stream, backed by a quiet, rolling plain. Nothing to affect them but the sound of gently bubbling water. ]

( Interesting. The people around you seemed to be feeling quite a lot of things. )

[ His tone is mild, not accusatory. It looked like some form of sympathetic magic, to his mind. ]

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. ]

[shri]

[ Lakshmi pushes her hair out of her face. Long dark and thick. It hadn't had the kind of care she once had with it. Now all her movements are economical. A process of getting clean that is just a process. Removing the dirt and sweat caked to her skin.

At her company, she turns. Hair pulled over her shoulder, dragging fingers through her it, working at the tangles. A nod as she leans back from the water. Rocking herself up onto her knees, feet curled under to her balance. The material that she has wrapped around her stays put. Even if it leaves her otherwise exposed. ]

By all means.

[ Because there couldn't be a more natural thing to her, come to that. Natural to be like this with other women, especially. Home like, really. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ She sighs with relief, mostly that this woman isn't an overly defensive bitch like some of the hosts could be. She likes the soldier types, the ones who understand just getting shit done and not making such a goddamn big deal out of every little thing. She comes and sits down nearby, leaving her alone for a few minutes to finish what she's doing. ]

I'm Annie, by the way.

[ An idle introduction before she's taking her own turn to just dunk her freaking face in the water. They're in the same position honestly, after a day riding just covered in dust and grit, sweaty from their stupid costumes. She comes back up with a happy gasp, flinging her hair back. ]

Fuck...

[ An explative of enjoyment. ]

[shri]

[ Once it's straightened out as much as she can get it like this - she reaches for a sash of material. One she set aside particularly for the task to bring it up and begin to dry off the water from it. A rough rubbing motion, rolling her hair between both sides of it. Back and forth. ]

Rani Lakshmi Bai.

[ The girl seemed a pretty thing, a gnarled thing certainly. But that too, was something of home. Her ladies were as hardened as herself when it came to it. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ She contemplates this. Speaking different languages is almost moot with telepathy, but Annie has always been rather good with them. She views language as shapes and colors more than anything structured, it lets her essentially change her color palette rather easily.

Her Hindi isn't perfect, and assuredly more modern than anything Lakshmi would be used to, but the link will make her clear all the same.]

( That's a powerful name. )
Yah ek shaktishaalee naam hai.

[ She gives her face a solid scrubbing, moving down her neck. She needs to unwrap the bandage from around her chest to start scrubbing the bright green goo out of the crevices of her scar... ]

II. / III. por que no los dos

[perroquet]

[ Though he had not been by her side, he felt it. Not directly in the path of her power, but through the new familial connection he has yet to reconcile with. A brilliant emotional high followed by a debilitating low. And before that - a slow, cool, rush of power he's still struggling to comprehend. He knows well what it feels like to cast magic, and for it to go wildly out of control. This was no magic, but it was similar.

For the first time since arriving to the Nest and to Hyrypia, he's frustrated at the bumbling slowness he's been trying to keep up. That he has to be careful and take time to trace the exact path back to the tents to find her, that he can't just part the crowds and rush straight to where he knows she is, lest he reveal how well he can actually find his way in the dark.

By the time Gildor is pushing the curtains aside with his staff, he knows he's interrupting her in quiet relaxation - in the middle of a bath no less. There's a sense of urgency and concern that won't go away, and he loathes how rude it must make him in this moment. But he needs to know- ]

What was that? All of that? During the race, after it-

[ His formerly gentle voice is uncharacteristically gruff. Gildor stops himself, inhales. The scent of sweat and water and her is more grounding than it's allowed to be. ]

Are you alright, Rani?

[shri]

[ It isn't right how he should feel like the one thing she needs so badly right now. Her whole body and mind wanting to curl around his presence to reassure herself after - all of that. A piece of a vase that had shattered and she holds the other two at an arm's length. One for his young age and inexperience that she would never want to expose him to this true violence in herself - and the creature she is disgusted so wholly with.

It leaves him, it leaves this, as blindly in return she reaches for him without surety of what it was that had happened to her. Just that he will soothe this remaining flatness in her. ]

Come.

[ Just a word, because that's the lie - that she keeps herself so stiff out of pride, that she might be too good to touch others. But not that, never that - it is just that life took away the ability to do it anymore. Instead, she beckons him to her, not in action, but in warm beckoning to him. Come, please, do what I can not for myself. ]

[perroquet]

[ Her reply is an order, not an answer, and it does little to ease his nerves. Gildor isn't a fan of taking orders from royalty, but can't seem to get around the idea of her being an exception.

So he obeys, but at his own pace. First sets down his staff to remove his gloves, freeing his hands before unraveling the veils around his head and face. His boots and first layer of the heavy disguise are shed from within the safety of the tent. It's still hot out, and he's not putting it all back on until certain Lakshmi is well.

Once freed, he picks his way through the cushions and personal belongings scattered around the tent with much more grace than someone with their eyes closed should have. What's more, he takes that outstretched hand she offers in one of his, finding it with little difficulty. He can't hide it from her any longer - not while she's like this - and if she has questions he will explain.

After she does. ]

Please, tell me what happened. What was that... sudden elation about?

[ Elation followed by what he wants to describe as sadness, but can't. It was emptier than sadness, the presence of her in his mind alarmingly void. ]

[shri]

[ And by instinct a need she cannot place, cannot let herself remember most days happening - the want of contact. The need to be part and not separate. As he reaches for her, she guides him the rest of the way, and yes - there are a lot of questions. From him, from her. A lot of things that require knowing between them but right now, she guides his hand to the curl of her cheek. To set it against her as she takes deeper, slower breaths in the effort to soothe something. ]

I do not know.

[ And in the moment his skin broaches hers, it all becomes clear - she doesn't know, and as she is, pressed back and contained as she has to be here, her back is against a wall that comes down to what always concerns her - the others, their safety, the need to curl over and protect, not herself, but all those around her. ]

One moment, I felt glad, joy at racing and doing well - to what to spread that happiness. It would serve our purposes. Then - nothing.

[ It's empty and she knows, not her. ]

[perroquet]

[ His hand cups gently around her cheek, calloused fingers rough against smooth skin. ]

I felt it. Or rather, I felt you feeling it-

[ It's confusing. Sometimes he's so certain of the edge dividing his feelings and what he senses from others, but when it comes to brood that edge is harder to identify. He is as puzzled as she over what happened, and that urge for contact is shared. Perhaps it originates from him after all. Touch is one of the best ways he knows how to communicate comfort.

Gildor slowly kneels, and it's not that he kneels before a queen. He kneels to be closer to her and begin to provide that comfort in the hopes she will begin to feel again. ]

Here, hand me the wash cloth.

[ He'll start by washing her back. ]

III

[redheadcarrier]

[ Their mission for the day accomplished, Asuka trails back to their collection of tents. Curiosity and a tugging sense of companionship compels her to follow Lakshmi. Without much preamble, she ducks into the tent, in time to catch the sound of the sigh and the flicking arch of the wet hair, the spray of water droplets that spatter against the tent. She blinks through her layers of veils and cloth, acutely aware (suddenly) of how dusty and sweaty she is underneath everything. She feels a touch awkward, as if she's just come in uninvited (which she has), but she presses on anyway. ]

I think we were the best team out there today.

[ She sounds sure of herself, even if she feels anything but, voice muffled by the layers of cloth that cover her face. ]

[shri]

[ Uninvited she might be, but it's no mind to Lakshmi's particular as she runs her fingers through her wet hair, pushing working free the grit of sweat she could feel against her scalp. From brow the back of her scalp in jerking motions in a line, to stop and begin at the top a little to the side over, and repeat the process. Her back arched and her scars bare she is comfortably herself and nothing more. ]

We did very well, you included, for one so new to it [ she hooks a finger, beckoning her by crook. ] - are you just going to stand there or would you like to remove the dirt too?

[redheadcarrier]

[ Honestly, that sounds great right now. She's been basically living in these robes for days. Traveling hasn't meant much chance to sneak off for a wash or anything else. After a moment, she nods and picks her way across the tent, tugging her head covering off. She shakes her hair loose, the long, long red wave falling over her shoulders and back. ]

That sounds awesome right now. I really miss having showers...

[ Or even a Japanese-style bath. You don't know how much you miss bathrooms until you don't have one.

The rest of her robes start to come off as she settles down, starting to expose bare skin here and there. ]

[shri]

[ She raises an eyebrow as she talks, and mild as can be - ] Well, let us make do then -

[ But it's mild, as Asuka sheds her clothes, and Lakshmi turns an eye over her flatly appraising. Gritty like all children are prone too. She clucks in that way only a mother can: not good enough and she will be fixing it immediately before any complaints can start.

But cupping her hands into the water, lifting it and immediately dumping it on Asuka's head. ]