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Entry tags:
- *hatch log,
- *mission log,
- annie westwind [original],
- asuka langley sohryu [evangelion],
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- clarke griffin [the 100],
- elena gilbert [the vampire diaries],
- elliot alderson [mr robot],
- gildor helyanwe [original],
- lexa [the 100],
- misato katsuragi [evangelion],
- noctis lucis caelum [ffxv],
- pidge gunderson (katie holt) [voltron],
- richard gecko [from dusk till dawn],
- rust cohle [true detective],
- ryohji kaji [evangelion],
- sam wilson [mcu],
- seth gecko [from dusk till dawn]
[mission: hyrypia] i am not there; i do not sleep
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!
((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!))
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!))
no subject
Oh? How do you care for them?
[There's no disguising his interest.]
no subject
[ And her enthusiasm is on display for a moment as she starts to talk again - a bit too quickly at first before she reigns herself in. ]
They're almost like actual, living creatures! I just wish I knew how you guys actually built them! They seem like they'd be... uh. Useful. On Carbausch.
[ Yeah. Yeah, that's the ticket. ]
no subject
I'm so glad you like them! The technomance Elin were my favorite as a child. They're so technically complex - just masterful. Really beautiful. Their interior mechanisms are really gorgeous too. Have you seen one under the exterior plating?
[You've apparently opened a can of worms, Pidge.]
no subject
I haven't! I've wanted to take a look at how they work underneath all of that plating, but I didn't really think to ask...!
[ Because that might have been suspicious. ]
no subject
I mean we could go look right now if you cared to.
[And then he pauses, seems to recall that they've quite literally recently finished burying a Carbauschian, and abruptly all the excitement drains from his face. His expression schools itself into a very severe line.]
If that's appropriate, I mean.
no subject
[ There... is that. The whole funeral thing. Her enthusiasm drains for a moment and her shoulders slump. After a moment, she sighs and reaches up to tug at her veil, adjusting it. She glances away with a little frown, but it's readable in her body language. ]
...actually, I think it would help me take my mind off of... losing him like that. We have to keep moving, right?
[ Which is true enough. ]
no subject
It takes some doing for him to straighten his heavy, intricately folded and draped robes and to lead Pidge from the long table. The near cut of the robes' lower half demands his stride be moderate. However, the moment they're out of sight of the table, past the glow of the largest braziers, he loosens how tight its wrapped and pinned, and fetches the metal weighted ends up over his arm so he can walk more freely.]
Don't tell anyone I did this. It's appalling.
no subject
Did what? Show me around? Or hold your robes up like a sensible person?
no subject
[Ah well, no worrying about it now. Shifting his grip on the weighty fabric, he lengthens his stride considerably. They wind their way through the encampment and out to the string. A single brazier burns there, attended by one ofnth e Elinmaster's assistants keeping watch over the herd of true Elin (the technomanced ones need very little overseeing). Otherwise the graze is painted grey by the dusk, all it's silvery grass muted.
The Second straightens his robes as they come down toward the automaton creatures. It takes him a moment to correct the lay of the fabric, to adjust the wrap at the middle to be comfortable once more.]
Which one was yours?
no subject
OK, not really. Her enthusiasm is still pretty evident. ]
Oh-!
[ She squints into the low light for a moment before she spots the Elin she's been learning how to ride. ]
Pretty sure it was that one. What are we going to do with it?
no subject
[He moves decisively toward the Elin in question despite how short the lay of the heavy robes forces his stride to be. Where fine dinners and idle conversation is anathema, this is clearly business the young man has considerable comfort with.
The moment he's within arm's reach of the machine, he catches it by one of its lovely sweeping antlers and pats the construct right in the center of the forehead as if it's alive. It's a somewhat silly gesture - very few Rabadoceans seem terribly concerned with treating the machines like anything more than enchanted metal.]
I'm Elyiad, by the way.
no subject
[ Pidge is almost as eager to get started as he is, although she's a tiny bit sad that they'll ahve to make it... stop working for a bit. She joins him next to the mechanical beast and gives it a pat herself, right under the 'chin', as if it could feel such a thing. She never forgets that they're metal and gears, but they way they move is always so graceful. She glances up at Elyiad as he introduces himself and flashes a smile from behind her veil - well, not that he can see.
There's definitely enthusiasm in her voice. She almost wants to give her name in reply, but they've already established that they don't give them out. So she curbs that and bites her tongue. ]
Thanks for taking me out here - I really appreciate it.
[ Her gloved hands are practically itching to get started. ]
Uh. How do you turn it 'off'?
no subject
[He takes the Elin automaton by its heavy metal jaw and levers it upwards. The creature is loathe to obey, leaning considerably on his arm.]
Here, hold its head up for me.
[Use both hands Pidge, your robot pet is programmed to lifelike and sullen about being manhandled as Elyiad pokes and prods at the interlocking plates of its exposed throat. He spends some time muttering to himself-- 'Ah, no... I see, that's not--' and finally lifts a piece of the Elin's casement from its chest and the animal goes still from neck down. It's head continues to shift in Pidge's hands, its long lovely ears twitching idly after sounds drifting over the field, but otherwise it's settled into some kind of unnatural rictus.
Inside the casement is a meticulous array of whirring mechanics, glowing softly from the unmistakable light which the Nectar exudes. Elyian crouches, hands on his knees to peer into the exposed square of the animals' interior.]
You can let go now and take a look. This is just the quick access. We should be able to crack the rest of it open from here somewhere... But look, you can see a few of the escapements from here, just there see?
[It's like the world's most complex pocket watch: a hundred small pieces ticking along though the animal is still.]
no subject
[ That last is to the elin, who Pidge feels a bit of sympathy for, even if it only a robot. She likes mechanical beings and she finds they often have personalities of their own. Her curiosity is a a bit too strong, though. Besides, they're not going to hurt her. She holds the elin's head still as Elyiad goes to work, giving it a firm, comforting pat, almost as if it were a real animal. She manages to keep a decent hold on it until Elyiad finishes and the creature has gone still. She releases it and crouches down to get a look, eyes sparkling behind her veil as she tries to mentally catalog everything that's happening inside.
It's amazing, honestly. Clockwork is not what she would've first imagined on coming to this planet and it's not something she's super familiar with, but she's studied it a little. She wants to see how it all fits together and she can practically feel her fingers itch. ]
Yeah - yeah, I can see it!
[ She leans in and traces the pathway of a certain mechanical motion, following the interlocking gears. ]
So, that drives this - wow. That's - do you make these by hand? This looks super-efficient and it looks like a perfect fit for each piece.
no subject
[Something clicks under his hand. He grips the edge of the open compartment and yanks, stronger than seems advisable. In response, the exterior plating of the Elin's body blooms like some macabre metal flower - displacing and sliding over other segmented pieces to expose the body of the creature's design. It becomes immediately apparent how its jointed together: where the sturdy limbs attach, how the heavy neck might rise and fall. It's a complex piece of equipment, but exposed like that it begins to make sense in an obvious, sensible kind of way (ignoring, of course, the burning golden clear globe at the animal's center; there nectar turns and turns in its canister, exuding a persistent humming light).]
There we are.
no subject
[ Pidge acts a touch surprised, if only because she hadn't considered the idea that they might have factories as well as... uh. Mechanical beasts. She knows all about mass production. Still, it's good to have some genuine emotion in there. Not that it matters much, because her eyes are going all starry as soon as Eliyad really opens the Elin up. It's... incredible, in so many different ways.
She can see the logic behind the construction, how each and every piece fits. It's fabulous - especially to someone like her, who loves tinkering and technology. ]
Wow...
[ She sounds a bit hushed. Almost reverent. She reaches out to carefully handle a piece here and there. ]
This is incredible. I can see how it's all supposed to work.