station72 | [mission: hyrypia] give me my scallop shell of quiet, my staff of faith to walk upon

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

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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Asuka hasn't run her race yet. She's still sort of preparing and hanging out, waiting for some of the earlier events to finish. So she's wandering. It's a bit of a festival like atmosphere, but she's a bit amped up - she wants to go already - and then there's a semi-familiar voice in her head. She has to stretch her memory for a moment. She hasn't actually "heard" from her in a while... ]

( Whoa, Annie? Where have you been? )

( Dumbasses let me oversleep back on the Station. )

[ This is the running joke, that she was just a little bit late. It disguises her discomfort with what really had happened, and how all the other girls in her brood had fallen under too. How she'd woken up with not a single member of her team within reach.

She hadn't cared for it. ]

( Sounds boring. Do you... remember any of it? )

[ Asuka has memories of watching Cathaway slide ocmatose hosts into slots. It wasn't a pleasant memory, but it did give her an idea of what Annie might have experienced. If unconsciousness can be an experience, anyway. ]

( Sort of. It's complicated. I'm never all the way unconscious. )

[ There are a number of things she should have been unconscious for, but wasn't. She has scars on her body from being opened up and examined. Is missing an organ or two, although 'missing' might not be the right word: replaced, changed... She knows these things despite that fact that she was drugged in the night.

Life in the Academy sure had been swell. ]

( What, really? That sounds inconvenient. How do you sleep? )

[ Asuka is threading her way through the crowd, trying to follow the mental ping that is Annie. They hadn't hit it off fantastically, but they had a sort of understanding. Which is more than Asuka could say for a lot of people. ]

( Badly. I used to not, when I was a junkie cunt. )

[ Part of that is just her cavalier inability to keep a goddamn secret, and partly that she does want Asuka to know that she's had her problems too. ]

( Noctis helps, sometimes he get me down without the nightmares. Sometimes he just puts up with sharing them. )

[ She lifts a hand in a wave from where she's sitting where she feels Asuka coming closer. ]

( You were a junkie? )

[ OK, honestly, Asuka feels like that explains a lot about Annie. She's kind of judging. On the other hand, a lot of people turned to drugs after the world basically ended after Second IMpact so it's not like there's a lot of room for her to complain too much.

She spots Annie through the crowd and worms her way over, plopping herself down wit ha little groan. ]

( Sharing nightmares sounds terrible. )

( Yeah, started at like your age and didn't give it up for a long time. Been sober like 5 years now. It's hard. )

[ She's never going to lie that it's easy or that she doesn't want to use all the time. She had a head full of monsters, an existence beyond her physical flesh that was simply too big to fully integrate into her human life. She'd give anything to ease that ache, of always being incomplete, in the wrong place, in the wrong time. But here she is. ]

( He's keeping them off the rest of you. I don't know why anyway would pick me to be part of a 'Nest', I'm pretty fucked up in the head for this kind of thing. )

[ Asuka's silent for a moment. She knows about nightmares. She has her own that she deals with and it's a minor miracle that they haven't actually leaked over to the rest of the nest. Yet. She doesn't know Annie that well yet and a part of her is reluctant to open up. But still... ]

( Gee, maybe I should thank him, then. )

[ She takes a slow, deep breath. ]

( ...what kind of nightmares? )

[ Annie stares off at nothing. She'd actually rather not talk about that, but she feels like it's important to be honest with Asuka in particular. She'd have been the same with the other girls -- Lucina, Annabeth -- but they're safely asleep, and she doesn't have to worry about them and where their lives are going, for now.

It's hard for her to think about her nightmares -- the reality of her life -- without it spreading over the mental link. Her control can still be lacking, and already things are starting to drip red. Reliving a day when it had rained blood. ]

( Lots of things, it's all pretty disjointed. I'm not completely, entirely, human so I dream about weird body parts and eyes and teeth and shit. And the weird body parts get all mixed up with some... ugly shit I've seen. Aliens attacked Earth,
blah blah blah. )

[ Red. The scent of blood.

That's depressingly familiar. Asuka draws her legs up to her chest, trying not to act too out of place, trying not to attract attention from the shifting, moving crowds of locals. ]

( Sounds stupid. But I know all about aliens attacking Earth. )

[ Not really aliens, but close enough, honestly. ]

( I had to deal with that too. )

( They're in to that, for some reason. I mean, I know why Sparrows was there. That was... what one of the aliens called themselves. She was training all of us, girls with pathos, to be her soldiers, take over the world. Then another one showed up and they got so into fighting each other they just trampled us like we were never even there. )

[ It had been fine, the alien monstrosity, the child soldiers, the experiments, the death, the hurt. That'd all been fine with Annie, until all of it had fallen away. She had to reckon with all she'd turned a blind eye to in the aftermath, looking around herself and realizing how much had been lost -- lives, selves, purpose.

She tries to be better these days, but the guilt of how far along she'd went with all of it was deep. ]

( Sounds about right. )

[ Not quite the same, but it's familiar enough. ]

( We don't get noticed. We're just the ones who have to do all the dirty work for the assholes at the top. They treat us like we're disposable. Like... dolls that they can play with and then throw out when they're tired of us. )

[ Although that speaks more to her experience, perhaps. She'd enjoyed being a pilot - until she hadn't. It had been her life, her reason for living, and then it had destroyed her. ]

[ Well, yeah. Even before Sparrows lost interest in her experiment, that's all the girls in the school ever were to her. They treated each other that way. They treated themselves that way. That's why Annie and those who survived are wreckage. Not a single one of them was socialized properly, they don't know how to be more than used, they don't know anything but oppression, control, violence. Little soldier dolls with bloody minds.

But she can't say that to Asuka can she. Just well, duh. Or that nothing has changed, that they're still just dolls in a bigger game. ]

( Yeah. I guess it's up to us to treat people better than that. )

[ She's been trying to anyway. She's not of the opinion she's very good at it though. ]

[ Treat people better. A part of her has known that she should do that. She's tried - she tried to be friends with Ayanami at first. She even tried to put up with Ikari and his perversions and his stupid, passive way of pushing everything off on others. She forgave him at the end of it. That doesn't mean she finds it easy. It's hard to let her empathy do the talking. ]

( Sometimes I don't think it's worth it. )

[ Sometimes she thinks it'd be better to die. But she doesn't want that to happen. So what does she do? ]

[ Annie cracks out with a cackling laugh. ]

( Sometimes it isn't. But I like trying even if the person turns out to be a stupid scumsucker. )

[ She's still smiling, sideways and roguish under her hood, although it softens. ]

( I didn't use to, don't get me wrong. I used the drugs and the booze to not give a shit for a long time and I hurt a lot of people. I was -- probably am -- really fucked up, and I don't want anyone to go through the shit I did. Me and all the other girls at my school. So, I try to... whatever, help people not feel like I did -- do. )

( I've never - done any of that. )

[ No drugs, no booze, but there is a faint sense of... not quite disgust or judgement, but a wariness. It's something Asuka's never approached or used and it's something she isn't sure how to deal with. Hurting people? Something she's more familiar with. That's easy to do, after all. ]

( I mean - I've hurt people. Everyone does that. )

[ She's unsure about admitting that she feels bad about that sometimes. ]

[ Her smile twists painfully, spasmodically. Asuka was probably the kind of person she would have hurt, whose defiant buttons she would have pushed, whose need for recognition she would have mocked. Would have encouraged to turn off all of her stupid fucking feelings and just keep her nose down and do as she was fucking told. Because no one gave a shit whether she liked her life or not. ]

( I don't want to hurt any more kids who haven't even gotten a chance at their lives yet. I don't want to watch people get used up for no fucking reason. Don't want to watch anyone else brainwashed and twisted up. )

[ She shifts uncomfortably, the emotion boiling under her skin. ]

( That's the kind of thing I used to do, because I was a stupid brain washed bitch and I didn't know I was wrong. )

( We always hurt people. Even if we don't want to. )

[ Words born of experience. None of the adults around her had necessarily wanted to harm her out of maliciousness. They just hadn't had time to slot her into their lives. They hadn't had the energy to care. Their neglect had been benign, for the most part. It still hurt. It still left scars. Intent means nothing.

And Shinji - had Shinji ever really intended to hurt her? She still doesn't know for certain. ]

( And sometimes you have to hurt them. )

( You never have to hurt anyone. That's always a choice. I'm fine making it, but I'm not gonna pretend I didn't weigh the pros and cons and decide I cared more about myself. )

( You really believe that, don't you? )

[ She can't help the bit of contempt that crawls into her voice. Shinji didn't start out intending to hurt her, just like Misato never intended to hurt her. In the end, she's still wounded. ]

( We make choices about being hurt too. )

( What's that supposed to mean? )

( What, you've never heard about just not giving people the power to hurt you?
I didn't think I was being real novel with that one. )

( I tried that before. You can't... take it away. Ever. People always find ways. )

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