station72 | [mission: hyrypia] i am not there; i do not sleep

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[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!

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 )

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[ At her response, he sobers a little. If this is better than where she was– well, he doesn't want to think too hard about it. Something about how she says it reminds him of a young girl in the middle of the Heavens War.

She'd stood in the middle of a lake, stars surrounding and the dead even more.

It used to be more unpleasant to remember, but now it's scarred over. Simply a ghosting tug on the heart he no longer has. ]

Do you mind? [ He gestures to the seat nearby, not wanting to invade her space. ]

[ There's certainly a commonality there. She's a child soldier, a survivor of an apocalypse. She's had... a life. And it's left its marks on her as she tries to grow past it, as stunted as she is by everything that life has hurled in her direction. She shifts her weight as he asks his question and glances up through her veil before she finally shrugs carelessly. ]

Sure, do whatever you want. I'm not in charge or anything.

[ There's a beat, a pause, as he sits. ]

What's your name, anyway?

[ Her attitude is so much like a teenager in that moment that it's a bit at odds with what they'd been hedging into before. Her shrug is careless, easy.

November nods gratefully and takes a seat, puts a respectful distance between the two of them. ]

( Depends. Sometimes I go by November, sometimes Jack. Whose lovely presence am I being graced with? )

[ She is a teenager, after all. Even if she's seen a lot, done a lot, experienced too much, the mannerisms are still there. A kid awkwardly trying to be an adult and growing into a place that she doesn't quite understand. ]

( November? Someone named you after a month? )

[ She 'sounds' amused by the idea. There's also a flare of approval at the flattery and she lifts a hand to adjust a stray bit of her veil. It's swallowed up by the grief, though and her shoulders stay a bit tight. ]

( Asuka Langley Soryu. )

[ Oddly enough, he finds talking to younger people more refreshing. They haven't yet wrapped themselves in their beliefs and the lies they tell themselves. There's always a dose of honesty. He never feels like it's part of a game, not like it does in every other instance of his life. ]

( Mm, you could say it's something of a codename. )

[ Something. Like entirely a codename. Asuka seems to brighten a little, briefly. It's a start. ]

( It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Soryu. ) [ November extends that polite happiness to her, a distraction away from the grief. ]

[ Asuka lies to herself quite a bit, but there's still a chance she can steer away from some of the more destructive lies. The young are resilient like that. She hasn't locked herself in. Not just yet. ]

( Code name, huh? Are you some kind of spy? )

[ Right. Charmed. She should go through the motions, shouldn't she? But she feels tired and drained and angry at the world, so she settles for a little pulse of acknowledgement instead. Even with the polite happiness she can feel pressing in from him. ]

( Caught me red-handed )

[ Not that he'd really been trying to hide it. With everyone's brains being connected, it doesn't make much logical sense to start off on the wrong foot and lie. Falsities may have worked on the Japanese police force, but it won't fly here. Somehow, he's only a little chagrined at the fact. ]

( I worked for MI6; British Intelligence. And yes, I have met the Queen's numerous corgis. They're adorable. )

( Whoa, really? Like James Bond? )

[ She doesn't care much about the corgis. She does known MI6, though. Old movies about the British super-spy that she'd occasionally caught glimpses of. That's her exposure to the British secret service, so her concept is a bit skewed. Although she knows real spies don't always work like in the movies. ]

( Do you have a jetpack? )

[ It's actually a bit of a welcome distraction to poke fun at the new person. Easier than thinking about the gaping hole in her emotional well-being. ]

( Almost exactly like. )

[ At her comparison, he smiles. The spy life isn't really as glamorous as James Bond would have people believe. There was a lot more wasted time, too many false smiles, not enough suave entrances.

But there were also times that were startlingly similar.

Of course, he does laugh a bit when she mentions the jetpack. ]

( Ah, no. A shame, really. Though, flying in the air like that seems like it would be unnerving. )

[ So much open space. Not enough to hide behind. ]

( That's pretty cool! )

[ There's a trace of childish enthusiasm in her voice, even if it's muted by the circumstances she finds herself in. It's easier to distract herself right now. She's already wept. Still, that dark, looming bitterness and sadness looms in the background like a storm cloud. It just needs something to set it off. ]

( Unnerving? I guess. But it'd be fun. )

[ Asuka enjoys speed and enjoys movement. She'd love it. ]

[ Something about her enthusiasm is catching. Maybe it’s the sharpness of it, how distilled it is even amongst the grief and gloom. All of that sits heavy as background pressure, but for now the sun is out. ]

( I prefer solid ground under my feet. ) [ It’s a realist look, though there isn’t any pessimism behind it. Just honesty. ]

( Thrill-seeker, are you? )

[ When Asuka is actually enthusiastic, it tends to be a bit contagious. She's got a certain fierce joy to her - but that's obviously muted at the moment, considering the trappings and aftermath of the funeral. Still, it helps to keep her mind occupied. Even if a part of her would rather be surly and myopic. ]

( Sometimes. )

[ There's a bit of her old arrogance there. Albeit muted. ]

( What's the point in trying to be safe all the time? You can't prove yourself like that. )

( What's 'sometimes'? )

[ He's genuinely curious to see what the answer is. What Asuka considers risky or a thrill and what she'd pursue in hopes of it. She seems just young enough and sure enough to get by in most things. ]

( You have a point. I prefer to concentrate on a different set of risks; jet-packing isn't quite my style. )

( I dunno. Most of the time, I guess. )

[ There's a mental roll of the eyes. Questions! Ugh. Honestly, adrenaline and the rush helps keep her sane sometimes. Helped keep her sane. Even if she was scared out of her wits. ]

( What kind of risks do you like taking then? There's gotta be a reason you're here. )

[ Her answer makes him smile. Unseen behind the costume, but shared in the mental space between them. ]

( Espionage. Long term cons were something I enjoyed. Fighting, but mostly in the pursuit of knowledge or safekeeping. Though, there is a certain thrill, when your back is against the wall. )

[ He thinks of BK-201 and Havoc. One full of electricity and surprise. The other, insurmountable power that she'd been willing to sacrifice to be normal again. Full of fear of herself. He'd been on full alert that day, but he wishes in some part that he'd been able to ask Havoc what it felt like. ]

( I dunno. I've been kinda bored sitting around. )

[ There's a twinge of guilt as soon as she says that. Guilt she tries to bury. Here she is complaining about being bored and one of her friends is dead. Her shoulders tighten a little and she takes a slow, deep breath, brow furrowed. ]

( I don't know. I was a pilot. I can't really do that here. )

[ There's a flicker of guilt– something he can name but barely feels. It's coming from Asuka anyway. She's bored but here they are at a funeral. The two feelings can coincide, even if feels rude to have them do so. But she can't help how she feels. November almost pities her. Almost. ]

( You don't feel like you're useful, is that it? )

[ Ugh. He seems to know exactly what's bothering her (sort of). She blames their heads being linked. It's... disturbing to her on one level. Too much like Third Impact. She can't quite be alone with her thoughts or ever be purely her, can she? Not anymore. ]

( Who asked you? )

[ The retort is a bit too sharp for his supposition to have been anything but the truth. ]

( No one, but that hasn't stopped me in the past. )

[ And it certainly hasn't. He's always been annoyingly inquisitive. This whole being linked up thing seems to bring that out even more, because there's more information to process. More subtle motions and thoughts, running underneath everything else. ]

( I did say I was a spy. This sort of observation was my job, if that makes you feel any better Miss Asuka. )

[ There's the tiniest grind of her teeth as she tries to decide how to answer that. It's still not ideal, but she supposes it's better than her simply being that obvious. ]

( At least you have something to do right now. )

[ He can practically hear her grinding her teeth. It shouldn't be amusing but. November has a terrible sense of humor. Thankfully he also has a really decent sense of self control so he keeps it to himself. ]

( Interested in learning some espionage? I've been told I teach fairly well. )

( That'd be better than feeling useless. )

[ So basically a yes. She fears being thought of as useless, honestly. Or hates it. She doesn't want to be left behind or forgotten again. ]

( Well then, lesson one: pretending to be weak and useless can be an advantage. Playing at stupidity has its upsides– there's a grain of ignorance that leads people into underestimating you based on a perception. Most won't think to scrutinize it twice. )

[ He pauses, thinking it over a little. ]

( There isn't much that's more satisfying that successfully pulling the wool over someone's eyes and tricking them into what you want them to see. For long missions it's especially handy. )

[ And because he's taken a shine to Asuka (already): ]

( Just remember you're never actually useless. Keep your eyes and ears open. The smallest details can give someone or something away. )

[ That isn't really something she wants to hear. She hates being thought of as weak and useless, because if others think it of her, she's definitely going to think it of herself. But seeming and being are two different things, aren't they? No matter how much she detests the thought, it's true. She just has to convince herself of that, now. ]

( That doesn't sound that satisfying to me. )

[ The response is grudging, but she knows that he's right - or that it at least has value. She just doesn't it like it all that much. ]

( Maybe you'll take to it and maybe you won't. Everyone has their own approach. )

[ April has pulled that card before, as did February, back in the day. February pulled it off better, just by virtue of having such a young looking face. People bought into her helplessness almost immediately.

As for him– well, when he was younger, he could. Now it's not much of a way to handle things unless he wants the other person to laugh. ]

( When there isn't a funeral going on, I'll show you some tricks. Like how to pick a pocket. )

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redheadcarrier - 2018-01-11 06:32 (UTC) - Expand

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