[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

[somnifacient]

[He feels it in more than just the way Prompto's fingers clutch at his robes, more than just the tightness of the embrace. He can, for the very first time, experience his best friend's mind, and by the gods, it's as if he feels like he's Insomnia again, and they're still in high school, young and dumb and oblivious about what the future held for him.

He feels, in his mind, Prompto, the very essence of him. That longing, that relief upon seeing each other, that cavernous stretch of time that enveloped the darkened Eos that they had lost. He's bright like sunlight, though there's something else there -- something inured, something that feels like growing up too fast. They're both like that, and when his mind brushing against his friend's, he'll likely feel the same.

His throat tightens in turn, treacherous thing that it is. Y'missed me, buddy? he asks, and Noctis feels something warm welling up around the edges of his eyes. His voice cracks a little when he speaks.]

Maybe just a little.

[Of course he missed him. The hug tightens for a lingering moment before he pulls back, and he wishes he could tear off this stupid hood so he could properly take a look at Prompto's face.]

I just...

[His words die on his tongue, and he has to take a moment to compose himself. How embarrassing, and he shakes his head. Give him a sec.]

[gunlock]

[although the embrace is no more, and their minds remain connected in some form that is almost intrusive yet familiar. after so long, after the kind of ending to their connection--to their lives, as they knew it, prompto doesn't want it any other way.]

[a whole new chapter with noctis; a whole new chance, opportunity, mercy, whatever you'd call it.]

[without saying anything, he puts his hand over his best friend's shoulder, not willing to keep the physical connection separate for too long]

I know.

Y'don't gotta say it. I'll start crying, and I dunno 'bout you, but I'm still a snotty crier.

[there, making it better]

[somnifacient]

[Part of it feels like a fresh start, and the rest of it? It feels like his past catching up to him again, that ten years of darkness blanketing Eos no longer a faraway thing -- Prompto is proof of it, standing here before him. And yet anxiety doesn't curl in his chest like it usually does; instead he only finds an anchor in these wretched memories, as if Prompto is the only one standing tall in the whirlwind of doubt and loss and uncertainty. His best friend, finally, here before him so that he can see him again, talk to him again, be with him again.

How cliche, he thinks to himself, when he wonders if he might be dreaming. That he'll wake up and face only the roof of a tent, and continue to trudge on day to day, with only the memory of his friends to guide him. But Prompto's very much here and real. He feels him at the edges of his mind, everything that he is -- still all of that energy and optimism, even if it is wrapped in something more... jaded than before.

But they were all tired in that time, weren't they? This is nothing to be surprised about, he tells himself.]

Y-yeah... [Biting back the way his throat feels tight, he continues with a smile in his words.]

Some things never change, but... here, we got a lot to catch up on.

[gunlock]

[it comes to prompto like a flash flood, how easy it was for his best friend to mope around. back when they were teens, there were days that leaving the bed or his apartment was just not happening. there were plenty days after, after they were helping the last of the lucis caelum line fulfill his role, where noctis would go silent for hours on end. all three of them--ignis, gladio, himself--knew to let him, but there were times when prompto just couldn't stand by it.]

[it's noctis. he'll be ever at his side. he'll be his friend, until the very end, until things become bleak.]

Like, on the food? Shiva's tits, dude!

[clearly he's been hanging out around quality people the past ten years]

[he turns back to the buffet, then remembers his plate]

I'm gonna stuff m'face and you can call me a fatass later, yeah?

[pausing, he turns back] --sorry it took me a while to get here, buddy.

[somnifacient]

[Shiva's tits. Gods, he can't help but make an embarrassing little noise at that, sounding something as unkingly as a snort. He's not sure how much Gentiana would appreciate that idiom, but she isn't here, is she? It's just him and Prompto right now, the latter joking about stuffing his face until he bursts, and that's all that matters.]

I can't just call you a fatass now?

[That's the correct response to his apology, isn't it? He grins wide from under this damnable hood of his, but at least he does concede to give a more sincere response only a moment later.]

I'm glad you're here.

[It's hard to put it into words just how glad, for a man like Noctis. And so he doesn't even try. But his mental link thrums with something bright, something that happens so rarely these days.]

We'll catch up soon?

[gunlock]

[he smiles, then rolls his eyes, picking at more weird alien food]

I think we're already catchin' up. Gotta pretend to be some convincing otherworldly creature or whatever, right? No veggies here? Hmm?

[what would iggy say?]

[stops, and kicks at noctis' shin]

C'mon, join me.

[somnifacient]

Ow, hey-

[He swats (useless) at Prompto, a dumb gesture since he can't hope to do anything about his shin now. He scoffs.]

(You wanna talk about pretending to be things we're not, make sure you do it in your... our heads. Or whatever.)

[He moves over closer, eying the food. Being a picky eater, it's not surprising that Noctis hasn't grabbed a plate or anything.]

(Pretty sure blowing our cover would be a bad thing.)

[gunlock]

( Oh, right. Not sure how I feel about y'being in my head. )

[it's not meant to offend, but it's the truth. despite their closeness, there's something intrusive and way too intimate about being in each other's heads.]

( Don't poke too much in there, yo. )[he jokes, then hands noctis the plate he picked out] ( There, I'll get one for me. All we'll need is a campfire and some plastic chairs... )

[somnifacient]

(Like there's anything in there worth me digging through.)

[A joke, where the real meaning is this: as if they're not so close that they practically don't need a link. That's the case, isn't it? Even if there may be something in there that he can't quite put his finger on, a wall that even Noctis has trouble peeking through, perhaps he hasn't noticed it yet. He's too awash in the emotions of everything else to be aware of it lying dormant in there.

So far.]

(Not carrying around our camping gear anymore. I just have my sword and the royal arms.)

[gunlock]

[prompto wants to share how maybe noct would be surprised? but decides not to, because he's busy plating up for himself]

( Ah, that sucks. ) [two people short, anyway] ( I dunno if I got my gun in there, and I don't think I should check right now. Can you feel for it or something? )

[somnifacient]

[He shakes his head almost immediately.]

(No, I did an inventory check the moment I arrived here. Just the Engine Blade and the royal arms, like I said. None of your stuff -- or anyone else's -- came along for the ride.)

[But as he says that, he's doing a precursory check, just an idle little habit of his. Everything there where it should be, even if there is a strange other thing jostling around.

Wait.]

(Woah, hold on. Wait, I think... When did that happen?)

[There may or may not be a gun in there now.]

[gunlock]

[he sounds excited when he transmits, via mindlink]

( It's there, isn't it? )

( Probably figured I was here and thought, hey, Prompto, can't look after your King without a proper weapon, here you go! Dunno who this entity for my story is, but work with me, Noct. )

[somnifacient]

(Yeah, but-)

[But... how? Can Prompto feel the giant question mark hovering over Noctis' head right now?]

(That's not how it works. Things don't just appear in there for no reason.)

[But calling it "no reason" might be selling it too short. There's something comforting in knowing that Prompto's gun is housed in his magic, now; more than just his own sword and the royal arms.]

[gunlock]

( And space travel isn't possible. )

[he gets where noctis is going with this, but at the same time, they've got to admit that a lot of weird has been going on.]

( Is it bad that it got in there without your knowledge? Maybe it was already on me and it just went back in automatically. )

[somnifacient]

[He crosses his arms a little.]

(You have a point there.)

[After everything he's been through, should he even doubt the possibility of it all? Stranger things happened back on Eos of all places, what with his ten year nap in the Crystal and his communing with a god in the meanwhile.]

(Guess you'll want it back to look at eventually, huh?)

[gunlock]

( Yeah, but it can wait. )

[prompto has better things to catch up with; people, really. noctis is the only person who matters to prompto, right here, right now. that much overflows between them without his noticing.]

[he doesn't even care that he doesn't really know how he's supposed to eat food with this disguise on]

( I have my camera with me, too. Lucky haul, huh? Might be able to get a couple of dumb selfies in space. Talcott will be so jealous. )

[somnifacient]

[Bringing up names from Eos is the equivalent of continuously pulling at his heart strings. The melancholy unravels, thread by thread, but he still feels a small kind of relief being able to talk about it with Prompto.]

(You serious? Your camera?)

[All of those photos of them, back on Eos together. Gods, he wants to see them.]

(I wanna look at them again, it feels like it's been too long.)

[gunlock]

( Dude, you only need to ask. )

[truth be told, prompto had barely taken any pictures after altissia, and losing noctis to the crystal put an immediate stop to his photography days soon after. he still kept his camera close, looked through the pictures like he enjoyed torturing himself, always clinging on to the hope that noctis would come back again.]

[pushing that sad thought to the side, he picks a place to sit]

( Guess we can have a trip down memory lane with them. )

[somnifacient]

[Even if there are a dearth of pictures in the dark, in that awful ten year stretch, Noctis wants to see everything. He needs that anchor, that feeling of home, nestled away in Prompto's camera in the form of photos. Of smiling faces, of goofy poses. Of battles barely won.

It'll do him good, he thinks.]

(You bet.)

[He sits down across from his friend.]

(Would like to see if there's anything new.)