[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

prompto argentum

[gunlock]

DAY :019, STATION

[after the briefing, prompto's actually glad they're allowed to roam about. getting pushed into a truck without much warning or time to prepare just to go out miles into the darkness to resolve a case of daemon infestation by a human settlement is something he's used to. having more or less 24 hours to settle down before heading out? that's luxury. the kind he hasn't seen in a decade.]

[he could make conversation with those in the briefing with him, but he's feeling deflated--overwhelmed, even. prompto will pause and stare at the lights. it's... warm. it bears with it a kind of warmth that he had thought forgotten.]

[it hurts his eyes after staring at them too long, and so he's bowing his head and rubbing at them.]

[the silence is welcome. the feeling of loneliness... prompto tries out, uncertainly, his voice quiet despite being in his head]

( ...Noctis? )

[he'll feel embarrassed later. maybe he's here (prompto hopes), maybe others know him. prompto looks up, uncertain, shoulders slumped over.]

DAY :020, CELEBRATE

[...prompto feels like he was tossed into a pool without much preamble or chance to get ready. there's a funeral, then there are the burial rites, and then there's a quiet after-party. he thinks he's not entirely sure on most of what's going on, but there's food and drinks.]

[he'll fill up his plate, and it's almost like he hasn't seen food for the longest time.]

[bumping elbows with someone else in his rush for seconds, he nearly chokes on what he's chewing.]

--sorry. Should take it slower, huh?

[otrazhenie]

[ Elena's already made her show of eating a small plate of food and has moved on to the drinking portion of the evening. There's a good dose of guilt going along with every glass she consumes (she knows how alcohol effects Gil), but it's helping to curb her blood cravings and that's important too, right? Making sure she doesn't eat anyone at the celebration is still a nightly ordeal.

It takes only a second for her to recognize that covered figure as someone from the Nest, but more than that - someone in her brood. He's clearer than most of the others, closer, and she feels that same connection to him that she does to Gildor and Shinji, to Lakshmi and Seth. Except even that connection is different now, it has been since the day before; it feels complete now, whole. And he feels like someone who might not hate her. ]

Maybe just a little. There's plenty left.

[gunlock]

[oh, that's different]

[prompto blinks and glances over. it's not so much about the words but how they sound, like this is someone he can completely trust. that's really odd, considering.]

[he fumbles with his cloak a bit (because it's on the way to the food), but then turns]

I'm... pretty new to this whole thing. New planets and all that.

[he also go briefed on them being on a mission of sorts. he hopes he isn't messing up by talking about his n00b shortcomings]

[otrazhenie]

This is my first time too.

[ If anyone here can understand them, it's not exactly a super suspicious conversation. They're supposed to be pretty reclusive, after all.

She smiles over at him, and though he won't be able to see it, the impression will come through loud and clear. There's an understanding of what he's going through, as well. ]

I'm Elena, by the way.

[gunlock]

[so he's not the only one, that's cool. he sets the plate aside for now to offer his right hand, despite being covered by the disguise provided]

Elena's a pretty name. Mine's Prompto.

Nice to meet you despite the circumstances? [and he thinks, who died anyway? perks of being new]

[otrazhenie]

[ It's a nice compliment, and there's a strong sense of gratitude from her. So far, so good with meeting the new member of her brood. Of course, he doesn't know what she is yet, but that can wait at least a little while longer. She puts her gloved hand in his and gives it a good shake. ]

It is, I agree.

( His name was Lavellan, I think. He was a member of another brood. )

[ She tries to be careful as she speaks along their link, hoping he's alright with it. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ He bumps her, but like the magnificent alcoholic she is, she does a little dance on the tips of her toes and manages not to spill her drink. She holds it carefully in the claw of her fingertips, then looks up at him. ]

Eh? Whatever. You fuckin' starving, or what? You know there was food on the fuckin' Station, right?

[gunlock]

[despite the strong words, he takes this with a measure of grace himself, not really minding]

Yeah, I know, and not really. Seeing this much food is just kinda crazy t'me still.

[sistershoggoth]

Lemme guess, you're from some fuckin' post-apocalyptic nightmare with resource shortages.

[ She's being flippant as fuck, but. She also does this to people, starts guessing which trope they fit in to. Makes fun of her own tale of bullshit with 'fuckin' aliens, you know.' ]

[gunlock]

Well, I wouldn't say with shortages. We actually started growin' vegetables and stuff consistently.

Please don't put me in a box. [he says that, but he's joking]

[sistershoggoth]

Oh my god.

[ She startles into a laugh. ]

What the fuck? A box? Shit, did somebody put you in a sensory deprivation tank for being bad, or what? They tried that shit on me a couple times, but I learned better than to get caught doing shit I wasn't supposed to.

day 20

[shiro2hero]

It's all right.

[Honestly, Shiro hasn't really taken an interest in the food or drink. He's here for appearances. Here to meet the others, the new faces. Take them all in before he ducks off to a tent to be alone.]

[Shuttering everything he feels about this behind the mental walls of stars and clouds. It's for the sake of people like these new ones. Like this guy knocking into him. None of these people asked for any sort of trauma, immediately on arrival.]

[He's still wearing the costume, the masking veil and his usual black robes. But the impression behind the words is a sympathetic expression.]

No harm done. Get as much as you want.

shiro being younger than prompto is messing me up lmao

[gunlock]

I will!

[is the immediate response to shiro's invitation to keep on eating. he stops momentarily, though, glancing back.]

--you aren't hungry yourself?

... I DID NOT KNOW THAT

[shiro2hero]

[At least part of him has to smile a little at the enthusiasm. It's nice to see someone who isn't so somber.]

[He shakes his head a bit.]

Not now, no. Don't worry about it.

IT TOOK ME A MOMENT TO REALIZE THAT

[gunlock]

[he won't worry about it. instead, he puts his hand forward for a handshake]

Prompto. My name. I'm new to this whole thing, but I can't complain about the food.

[somnifacient]

[He can feel it the moment that Prompto wakes up -- it is that familiar thread that he knows all too well, hooked into his mind with a permanence that should be disquieting, if not for the fact of who it is. Immediately, he feels the swell of a question burgeoning in his mind, a calling out of his friend's name. Prompto? But he's far on the station, still, and it's not until he's planetside, dressed in too-many robes, does he find him.

Walking around with a plate full of food, like he hasn't eaten in ten long, dark years.

Noctis freezes, his own robes done up in all black, his body language hard to read because the many layers, face obscured by a hood. But the voice that rings in Prompto's head, the way his mental tendrils reach out to the other, should be more than familiar.]

(Prompto...?)

[gunlock]

[food be forgotten, there's something a lot more relevant and satisfying in the midst. it's his friend--his best friend's voice, echoing in his head, and it's the most refreshing thing he's heard since "waking" up.]

[it's overwhelming, but prompto keeps it cool.]

( Sorry, who? )

[noctis can't see it, but he can probably hear it: how absolutely full of shit prompto is right now]

[somnifacient]

[He actually huffs out a laugh at that, audible from where he stands. Simultaneously indignant and good humored, but more of the latter, because he knows that's Prompto under those robes now. Without a doubt, he knew it before he even "called" out to him.

And yeah, he's full of shit.]

(Just some guy I knew back home. Thought you might've been him, but nah, you look too competent.)

[He's definitely stepping closer to meet him, though, smiling wide under his hood. For a brief moment, his tiredness, his grief and his ennui disappear in a flash, as if they never existed. He feels... relief (friendship, camaraderie, everything in-between) bubbling up in his chest, threatening to spill over and drown him with each passing second.]

[gunlock]

[prompto sets the plate of food down, nonchalantly leaning back, as if this is no big deal (but his hands are shaking underneath the robes, and he's trying to keep the shaking from reaching his voice).]

[it somehow feels harder to breathe--but in an obnoxiously good way.]

[last he had seen noctis, last he had heard of noctis... it was good bye forever. walk tall, my friends, a heaviness in his heart and an emptiness that would settle there once everything was set and done; once the prophecy were to be fulfilled.]

[except noctis is alive now]

You're a jerk.

[his voice trembles despite all his efforts, and prompto all but foregoes everything to step closer--meet noctis halfway there--and wrap his arms around his stupid best friend whom he missed for ten, dark, miserable years, only to have to say good bye to him as a final grace less than twenty-four hours after having him back]

[in all seriousness...? throw all the weird alien stuff his way, so long as he gets to stand by noctis' side again for more than just a hot minute]

day 020

[extradite]

[ This fine gentleman's plate earns bonus points for piling representatives of the land (that's beef, isn't it? the one with five tiny horns?), water (surely, the tentacle...), sky (all right, the charred unknowns between pastries are pushing it) and Shinji's profound nightmares. It's very inclusive. Very homey.

Shinji has no complaints — at least, until he nearly topples over the grand oeuvre, and a thousand ancient masters break the fabric of history for a time-travelling dressing-down. There's an art of clumsiness — not every human body can achieve Weapon of Mass Destruction status and promptly annihilate every porcelain bit in sight in one smooth, articulate gesture. Shinji's a true scholar.

He braces himself for the impact and its three repercussions: one, alien eyes on them. Two, anger, verbal or through the mental link from which he's tried to withdraw, to the best of his primitive ability. And three, the real challenge, the crystal-clear clink of dishes breaking down. ]

Sorry, sorry, sorry —

[ Grit your teeth and bear it, Ikari. Be a man. ]

zooms on...

[gunlock]

[immediately after the Catastrophic Disaster happens, prompto goes to the source--and leaves everyone aside to put a hand on the apologetic form's shoulders.]

Hey, you okay?

[shit, accidents happen, after all.]

...bit of a performance, [he looks around, apologetic if not for the mask] but it could've happen to anyone.

[back to the figure. shinji, he picks out in his head]

I'll help ya clean up.

station.

[detestable]

[ The unfamiliar voice in his mind has Seth's head whipping around to find the intruding party. He can't quite help the answering pull of his own mind, clutching possessively at something that absolutely isn't his own. He's never felt that for anyone but Richie, possibly about the contents of a good score. Disengaging is hard, even after Seth has registered what he's done. Their minds stick; the stranger, Prompto, and his thoughts cling to Seth like soft tar. ]

Nope, not Noctis, pal. [ Seth's voice carries clear across the Nesting Deck. ] You're gonna have to check with one of the other pod people.

[ The impression Seth has of them pass in a flurry. Only Richie is vibrant, a known quantity, while the others are a blur of suspicion and casual disregard. ]

SORRY FOR THE LATE!!

[gunlock]

[prompto turns, because even if it isn't noctis, just hearing someone say noctis' name fills him up with some level of hope. he's not deterred, and instead smiles bright despite the obvious disillusionment that comes from not finding who he wants to find.]

[this is seth; this comes like basic knowledge to him.]

Ah, figured I'd give it a try. I'm sure I'll run into him or someone who knows of him at some point.

Pretty crazy, this whole thing, huh?

SORRY FOR BEING EVEN LATER :C

[detestable]

[ Prompto's hope hits like a fist, knocks a memory of Kate's smile out of him before Seth can acclimate. Kate had exuded hope and optimism for a while, before Seth had dragged her through the desert dust and pushed her to the breaking point. Irritation bubbles up in the wake of that memory, simmers as he takes in Prompto in all his perky glory. ]

Yeah, pretty fucking crazy.

[ And par for the course, really. Seth's been bombarded with varying levels of craziness since Richie busted him out of prison. It had likely been too much to hope that he could ever return to a semi-normal life. ]

You don't seem all that worried about getting drafted into some slap fight between aliens though.

[ But Seth already suspects Prompto's not the type to let a little thing like reality harsh his mellow. ]

vicious cycle

[gunlock]

[a smile sparks at the shared sentiment--at how it's said. there's something familiar about it, even if there's a bubbling of irritability and dislike that thrums through to prompto over their shared connection.]

[but seth would be right; he's not the type to let a little thing like reality harsh his mellow, as he won't let a bit (hm) of negativity keep him from being his own sunshine factory.]

The alternative is letting my best friend die for some greater plan the gods concocted.

[it's delivered without bitterness, seeing how this isn't happening now, and--really?--the idea that he'll get to see noct again after saying good bye, nothing can ever dampen his spirits.]

[prompto brings a had forth in offering] Prompto Argentum.