[mission: hyrypia] i am not there; i do not sleep

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :019 - DAY :020
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in the void between multiverses, a fresh clutch of Hosts hatches; down on the planet Hyrypia, a Host is laid to rest.
WARNINGS: Mentions of character death, funerary services. Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :019

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP and the universe with you in it is suddenly different. --No. That's not right. You're you, the universe is as it's always been, and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or coming up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and yet everything is.

Here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone. There are a handful of you here, somehow intimately familiar to each other.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a shell for some vast dark thing.

Eventually, a sensation manifests out of the black. It says:


PREPARE YOURSELF
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD is sound and sensation: a warm shaft of sunlight through smoky glass - a gauzy curtain twitching in some summer breeze. It says or feels like:

( Come meet with me, won't you? )

Where exactly this meeting is supposed to occur isn't immediately clear, but head in the direction that seems correct and eventually Station 72 gets you where you're meant to be: a circular briefing room with tiered seating, empty now, before a woman with a sheet of graying hair and something focused in her expression. It's been some time since she's spoken with a young host - since she's done one of this briefings. Apparently she's feeling something like her usual self. She smiles and it's very warm.

"Welcome to Station 72. Unfortunately, you won't be here long but we'd like to answer as many of your questions as we're able before you leave this place."

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]


THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

In the simulated morning, a strange archaic ship has arrived on the Hangar. Its very alien pilots unload two heavy trunks, then dole out a series of kits to the new hosts. One of them - the pale female alien who her calls herself Rhan - cheerfully announces, "Get changes and buckle in. I'm afraid we've some grim business ahead of us today. Funerals, you know. But chin up, my darlings. One uncomfortable day and then we'll leave the matter behind us. --Oh, but do be gentle with the others. I suspect they might be tender for a few days yet."

You leave the Station. If you're lucky, you might one day make it back.

HYRYPIA - THE GRAZE
DAY :020

THE FUNERAL PROCESSION
A SHIP DESCENDS from the iron colored sky early in the morning on Day :020. Before it even pierces the planet's atmosphere, its cargo should be obvious to the other Carbauschians: a new batch of Hosts, freshly hatched and just in time for the grim festivities.

The idea is simple: that they are part of a mourning delegation, only here to briefly oversee Lavellan's funerary rites. Luckily (...) there's plenty of comatose Hosts lying in the tents to trade places with the newcomers.

Better get to know your new friends quickly - there's plenty to be brought up to speed on (such as, uh, the recent death of one of the elder Hosts), and likely enough work to be done that the new spare hands are welcome. Or maybe the state of nothing-like-faux mourning is a good excuse for some alone time on a strange new alien planet. You're all so very, very far from home.


BURIAL RITES
THE FUNERAL has been arranged to the Hosts' precise specifications. Each and every single request they've made has been met, carried out by two soft-spoken, contrite Hyrypian servants who had come to them not long after their return from the hunt. Perhaps because the members of the other envoys are unsure whether it's permitted or welcome to attend, the site of the funerary pyre is hardly full to bursting with onlookers. Or maybe the burning of corpses goes against some obscure tradition. Or maybe some of the minor envoys simply don't care much and think the Carbasuchians are best left to their grief alone. Still, while it's hardly the entire encampment in attendance a notable selection of diplomats and their respective entourages and several of their Hyrypian hosts have turned out for the ceremony. It seems the Descendants in particular have turned out in some force, including the very hunter saved by Lavellan's quick thinking.

When the time comes for the rites to proceed, it's left to the Hosts to light the fire and say their farewells to their fallen comrade - the first and hopefully last to be lost in this strange land.


A SOMBER CELEBRATION
ASH SCENT HANGS HEAVY STILL over the encampment. Or maybe that's simply the perception - after all, the breeze still blows in from over the Great Flat. Surely it's just a memory of the smell which lingers, as circumstantial as the mournful note the wind sighs as it cuts across the Graze and into the tangled Finger Maze.

However, matters of the universe don't pause for the tragedy of the loss of an envoy - and there is so much riding on this Pilgrimage. To their credit, the Hyrypians have done all they can to provide for the Carbauschians in their time of grief (including a visit from the Matron Bassita herself, pale and full of sympathy and apologies), and as evening falls what clearly was meant to be a carousing party to celebrate a successful hunt and completion of the Pilgrimage's first stage has been considerably tempered.

The drinks still flow; the food is still plentiful, rich and lavishly spiced - but the music being played is soft and careful and of the hundreds of small technomanced insect lights the drift over the encampment tonight, a considerably portion of them are dedicated to lingering around the charred skeleton of the funeral pyre as a sober acknowledgement of what has come to pass.

Give it a few hours and maybe the mood will lighten slightly. On the other hand, there's nothing like an uncomfortably close tragedy to bring people together - and as Rhan suggests, maybe now's exactly the right time to ask a few pointed questions. Or to get hammered with new friends. Or to take a nice long walk while everyone else is consumed by the muted festivities.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers the hatch, the arrival of new Hosts on Hyrypia, the funeral of Lavellan and the supremely awkward dinner party meant to wrap the first stage of the Pilgrimage. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information if you're brand new to the game. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

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

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[ryohji]

[ an attitude like that, deaf to the rites of death and the experience of having one's world upended like a bird plucked of its wings, seemed made to do violence. similar could be said for many people kaji knew - for himself, not wholly untrue, but neither capturing everything he was also capable of.

if they were visible, his eyes would say, i don't know about you. his voice says he would like to. it's a shame november can't appreciate the confluence of the two, though the symbiote does tease. ]

I don't believe you. [ seems to be a prudent position to take, at least for now. ] Anyway, let's hope you never have to find out. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?

[justttkidding]

[ A purposeful ignorance. Death surrounds them, with the funeral, the rites, the somber mood. He's seen so much of it that he discomfort has all but been erased. Not to mention he has no personal stake; the symbiote seems to sulk, but he's not letting it affect his judgment.

(Humor is a defense mechanism, his default). ]

I'm hurt you think I'd take advantage of my mates. [ He's not offended. At all. ]

November 11. Or Jack Simon, if you prefer. [ November offers a hand in greeting, all neutral and airy geniality coming off his mind. ]

[ryohji]

That's a terrible name.

[ kaji brights as if he were complimenting the man's hair or suit, accepting the handshake. it was a diplomat's handshake, the kind used by people who have figured you can't learn a damn thing from someone else's handshake - much less their character or integrity - but are curious to know if the other person is still that gullible. ] Makes for a good AKA, I bet. Which one doubles as your alias?

[ pot... ] Ah, where are my manners. [ ...met kettle. he sounds pleased with his wild assumption as he releases his grip, but not without a parting squeeze. ] Call me Kaji.

[justttkidding]

[ At Kaji's bright retort, he laughs, sound only just muffled by the disguise. ]

Both, actually. I'd tell you my real name, but then I'd have to kill you. [ The oldest joke in the spy book. Incredible. Their mutual greeting is easy, diplomatic. It speaks to their levels of experience in political circles. Or just dealing with corporate bullshit. Same thing really.]

It's a pleasure, Kaji.

[ryohji]

You have your secrets, I have mine. But if what you say is true, maybe finding out wouldn't be too bad.

[ he files that statement away for future consideration. it was simply too blatant to do otherwise, even if it lacked any reference at the moment.

let's hope he never has to find out. but if kaji's judging this conversation correctly, it was time to shelve the platitudes for the kernel. ]

Well, November, let's cut to the chase. What do you want to know?

[justttkidding]

Aching for the sweet release of death already, Kaji?

[ There's an amused curve to the way he questions him, something that brushes at the edge of his subconscious towards Kaji's own. Not invasive, but there. Just as a note. Offer is on the table. ]

Hmm, quite a bit, I'm afraid. [ November hums, thoughtful, and then turns his concentration inwards. ]

( I suppose this might be more acceptable to carry on a conversation. )

[ryohji]

[ oh, november has no idea.

and he won't know, with how kaji's mind abjures like a mouth of a flower retracting in its tube, or a whipping boy or abused child to the most accidental of brushes. ]

Don't, [ and now, he is a shy schoolgirl, his voice contriving for mockily demure and highpitched. nothing to indicate how contrary he is to symbiote telepathy at first glance, but beneath the front is a strong pulse who speaks in no uncertain or insincere terms: don't. ] I don't like that sort of thing.

[justttkidding]

[ Easily, with the grace of someone who understands boundaries, he backs away from the use of telepathy. As he does, there's a strong sense of apology, something he follows up with. ]

I apologize. It is rather odd, isn't it?

[ Unnatural, even if the symbiote would think otherwise. But humans weren't made to speak to each other in the quiet of their minds. Their emotions were to stay hidden, unless it bled through to their expressions and body language. This was a different way of communicating. In some ways, he can see the use. And in others, the danger. The possibility of sinking into each other so much that the lines blur. ]

[ryohji]

[ kaji doesn't care for apologies. but if apology captains november's quick retreat, kaji's appreciation will be downplayed like the man's quaint choice of adjective. ]

There are three kinds of people who tend to understate. [ unsurprisingly, they overlap with the kinds of people who tend to steer a conversation toward unanticipated analogies. ] Politicians, spies, and husbands.

[ casts quite the wide net, in theory. context is their guide. the hand that clamps down on november's shoulder studies the slant of his carry, the points of tension. analyzing the external helps to sidestep the disaster of the internal. ] Do you know what's inside you?

[justttkidding]

Which do you think I am?

[ His smile is benign, continues even after Kaji’s hand is on his shoulder. Even after the question that asks him to look inward, to acknowledge their situation. November raises an eyebrow, lets the hand remain where it is, tilts his chin down just a bit as his smile goes a little wider. ]

Do you?

[ Are they talking about the symbiote? It’s a good topic, but he wants deeper than that. Force of habit. ]

[ryohji]

Just an old adage. I never said I believed it.

[ he is certain november knows kaji knows of which group he belongs. it is like walking down a street and seeing yourself reflected on a shoppe window, your likeness flipped vertical, colors without luster and marred by streaks of dust and handprints. but it is still you, and no one need remind you of that truth.

kaji lets his hand linger for far too long to be considered polite. he removes it before a challenge can be intimated. ]

I don't have a choice. Neither do you, or anyone in the Nest. But, many people here [ he refuses to refer to them as 'hosts', not if he can help it. ] don't seem to realize that.

[justttkidding]

And if I said I was a husband? Would you believe me?

[ Putting that out there just for fun, because it's now a private joke. November understands Kaji's intelligence at this point. His ability to read a situation in a short time. They're cut from a similar cloth, mirror images. It should be disconcerting to be met with the reverse image of himself– it's fascinating instead.

He pays no mind to the lingering touch. ]

No? [ November casts his gaze towards the group at large, over Kaji's shoulder, before returning to his face. ] After this even?

[ryohji]

[ to the hypothetical kaji merely shrugs, scoffing a humored noise. any man could, by chance or misfortune, find themselves yoked in a seemingly unlikely relationship. there was always a better half to play. and how his life pays testament.

if it was true, he must extend his most sincere condolences to the sorry individual who found themselves, by obvious misfortune, married to this man kaji is most certain is also a spy. ]

Don't be so surprised. Wherever you go, there's always a status quo to maintain. It's more than psychological this time. It's biological.

[justttkidding]

[ Wow Kaji don't be rude. He'd be a very considerate husband, spy or not. ]

Isn't it always biological? Humans hardly like to wander out of their comfort zone. We've adapted over time to certain things. Only centuries of minor shifts will get us away from that.

[ryohji]

[ which explains why he is single. ]

I like the way you think. [ which explains why kaji has patterned himself off him, despite never having met him until this very moment. november embodied a set of behaviors and attitudes, the sum average of which preceded the both of them. the perspicacious uberman far afield the unstable geography of emotion. a specter. a ghost, nether here or anywhere.

adruptly, kaji takes the drink. ] Centuries of minor shifts. [ and drinks it in one polish. yes, that's what the symbiote very well may aim for. ] That makes me want to drink despite myself.

[justttkidding]

[ November shrugs at the compliment, a sentiment that can be seen even with the layers they have on. ]

Years of observation. Part of the job description, quite honestly.

[ Because what kind of spy would he be if he didn't understand people? Nevermind that he's a contractor and can't exactly feel. He doesn't have to. Profiling has worked more in his favor and the lack of emotion has only aided him in being able to pick out the fallacies in people's logic. He can pick people apart at leisure, without the guilt. ]

It's either that or something catastrophic. I don't know about you, but my preference is on slow and steady.