[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

planet-side

[skaikru]

( whoops. caught. called out.

any other day and clarke might have the emotional range to feel a bit guilty, apologetic. it hasn't been so long since her own rude awakening in the pods and subsequent flight down to hyrypia that she's forgotten what it'd felt like to be open and vulnerable, like an exposed nerve ending with little to do in order to keep people out of her head except ask (not so) nicely. but she couldn't help it, it hasn't been long enough for the instinctive desire to count heads and check everyone around her was still breathing to fade out, and in the process that meant brushing up against the conscious thoughts of the newcomers, which probably felt more like an arm being twisted rather than a tug on their sleeve. )

A few people. Sorry. ( it's a little flat, but genuine. she's tired, but the consuming image of the symbiote nestled in with brain and blood and spinal cord is very neatly buttoned up inside her thoughts. small blessings.

the confrontational newcomer gets a once over, an up and down. for all her genuine apologies, there's some mental fortitude behind the look she gives him, palpable through the veils that obscure their eyes. but clarke's speech is void of that intensity. )

Welcome to Hyrypia.

[detestable]

Not much of a welcome.

[ A funeral, a bunch of people trying to self-destruct in the middle of a goddamn desert, all of it was less than welcoming. It's only marginally better than waking up in a pod with a tube jabbed into him. In a way, it's all par with the downhill slide Seth's life has been on since the supernatural elements of the universe were revealed. ]

You get yourself a drink yet?

[ Is that not what people did at funerals? Or it seems to be what everyone here did, since half of them were drinking like that last night at the Twister. But this girl seemed—

There's some heft to her. It registers even if her tone's weary and her greeting insincere. Seth's thoughts skirt towards Kate then away, refusing to let the comparison kindle. ]

[skaikru]

( she shrugs in some vague sense of acknowledgment and agreement — yeah, this all sucks. by comparison, no matter how hectic and frantic her own arrival down here had been, it could be colored in a much more favorable light. there'd been a play, not a pyre. there's a flutter of sympathy, or maybe just empathy. )

I've had enough.

( meaning none tonight, and perhaps enough for the rest of her life if scooping lavellan's brain out hungover had taught clarke anything.

with a nod towards whatever cup is closest to them — )

Be careful with that stuff. It's strong. ( a statement made heavily, with a sigh and an ominous openness. she makes no attempt to hide the morose suspicions that things are only going to go downhill from here. )

[detestable]

Yeah, I noticed.

[ There's plenty of evidence about just how strong the alcohol is. Seth's disapproval rises, unconcealed. Fucking rookies.

Or lightweights. But Seth wouldn't consider that any more forgivable. They're here to work. (As if Seth hadn't fallen apart when he'd mourned Richie, but Seth isn't giving that comparison any breathing room.) ]

I guess that's one way to demonstrate how cut up you all are for our audience.

[ A benefit, maybe. Seth doesn't know enough about their alien companions to decide one way or another. ]

Let me know when you need help putting some of them to bed. I'll give you a hand.

[skaikru]

( it says something about the absolutely dour mood across the encampment, that there's humor to be found in his derision. maybe not enough to coax out a smile, and no one's laughing, but clarke cocks her head slightly — dredging herself from unpleasant, gory memories and allowing the grouchy newcomer to occupy more of her active attention. )

I'm hoping it won't come to that, but thanks.

( with a jut of the chin outwards, to the rest of the mourning mass of people around them, and all too colored by her dealings two days past with the likes of her own brood: )

Just... keep an eye out. In case anyone tries to take off their clothes.

[detestable]

Yeah, don't worry. I didn't come all the way down here just to let some idiot blow things before we went to work.

[ The "we" is habit. The cracks and fissures between the Gecko brothers have been repaired enough that referring to them as a unit comes easily to Seth.

Admittedly, Seth isn't particularly invested in the mission so far. He listened to Cathaway, and he's observed the makeshift funeral, but there's no enthusiasm in Seth as he considers what's going to follow in the morning. ]

Guess none of them are worried about a hangover?

[ Which is kind of rich, coming from Seth. If there was anyone who didn't have any ground to criticize other people's drinking habits, it's him. ]

[skaikru]

Not everyone's thinking about tomorrow.

( when they really probably should be. there's a certain brand of comfort to be found in getting wasted to the point of disconnect, the world spinning too quickly to focus on anything other than staying upright. all those green drinks circling around offer warmth and relief, and clarke can't shake the bitter sentiment for the parts of her — parts named after some of the men in her life — that wants to crumple and indulge.

but tomorrow — who rightly knew what all they'd be doing. could be rest, could be packing, could be cutting through bone. again. clarke shrugs. )

When I got here, we all sat down to discuss the mission down here, but I still had a lot of questions. ( still does, but they've grown bigger now, and are harder to answer. ) Do you still have any?

[detestable]

[ It isn't as if Seth doesn't understand the allure of tuning out the world. Blotting out reality had it's charm. Seth had tried his damndest to erase Richie that way, and in the end, he'd been brought crashing back to ground. It's a lesson he thinks everyone here is going to learn the hard way. Seth doesn't need to hurry it along. ]

Just the one.

[ The same question he'd been circling with Gildor comes to mind, though Seth stalls a beat to ride out the flash of cracking bone. Had that come from her? ]

What are you think the odds are of us getting out of this clean?

[ It's Seth's understanding that this bunch hasn't managed a clean exit yet. The Geckos didn't have anything close to a perfect record anymore, but Seth thinks the costs of playing fast and loose have been pretty clearly demonstrated for them. ]

[skaikru]

( wow okay, don't pull any punches, go straight for the immensely weighted question that don't have any fact backed answers. )

Define clean.

[detestable]

[ At the question, Seth pauses. The definition had been easier before he showed up here. Clean meant without cops, without any shoot-outs. Clean meant without too much blood and noise. But he thinks the definition is going to have to shift to accommodate the changes in landscape. ]

Without any more funerals.

[ And without too much blood on the ground, Seth's hoping, but he recognizes when he's reaching. ]

[skaikru]

( if she's being completely honest, and feeding into the growing sense of futility and despair that the last few days have been wrapped in, their chances of escaping this planet without losing more member of the nest or leaving behind bodies of their own making feel slim to none in this moment. they'd come here to trail an all-powerful, dangerous enemy, and hadn't even figured out who their opposition was masquerading as, let alone faced them down. right now it only feels like a matter of time before the stakes heighten, and death begets more death.

but that brand of beaten down negativity wasn't going to help anyone. it wasn't doing any good for clarke and probably wouldn't serve to reiterate to someone who already seemed to grasp the severity of their straits. so she swallows it, reaching instead of a very tentative form of optimism. )

I don't know. But if we're smart and careful, and keep our cover, maybe this will be the only one.

[detestable]

[ If Seth weren't preoccupied with how much he hates the mental link, he'd consider how useful they could be. Clarke's initial pessimistic reaction is more telling than the scraped-together optimism she finally puts into words. ]

That bad, huh?

[ On the Station, he'd at least gotten some time to rest. But he's abruptly tired as Clarke reminds him of the stakes they're facing. ]

No one tells you about how bad the odds are when they're recruiting. [ Not that they'd had any alternatives. ] Was him dying as bad as people are making it out to be?

[skaikru]

( that depends on how people are making it out. not everyone had seemed ready to break down and cry, people had a whole wealth of different measures in how they mourned. she thinks of rust, crumpled and quiet, then swinging at the first person who tried to stop him from dooming them all. she thinks of asuka, withdrawn until the pain doubled over on itself and presented as anger, clinging to clarke's robes then elbowing her in the stomach. she thinks of everyone in that tent, disgusted and depressed; some looking for answers, some just trying to make sense of lavellan's death. to make sure it meant something. how are people handling this now? how have the welcomes changed since she touched down twenty days ago, and since when did twenty days passing make her feel so old and weathered?

it was bad. clarke shrugs a little, a lump swelling in her throat. )

I don't know how to describe it.

( thinks of her friends, angry and hurt. of rust again — might be easier if you just scream. )

But I could show you.

( and man, look how useful the mental link could be indeed. the memory of death bubbles up, lingering on the edge of their conversation like a commanding presence behind a shroud, veiled and just beyond reach. it's an offer, the bulk of pain, shock, fear, and grief momentarily contained. contingent on a yes or no before the damn broke and the weighted blanket of her conscious threatened to suffocate. )

[detestable]

[ ]

[detestable]

[ Even though the contact isn't made, the impression of what Clarke's offering makes itself known. It's oppressive. All Seth can sense is a shadow of sensation and it's colored his body language. He doesn't take a step backwards entirely, but his body angles away from her, tipping back as if from an open flame. ]

You know what? I'll pass. I got the idea.

[ It's enough of an illustration to underscore what Lexa had told him. Seth isn't budging on his assessment of how people are handling the fall out, but Clarke's offering confirmation that Lexa hadn't been exaggerating to prove a point. He'll take that and keep Clarke at arm's length. He doesn't need to view any of it with his own eyes. ]

You always so quick to let people into your head?

[skaikru]

( just as quickly as the pressure of her thoughts had risen and threatened to spill over them both, they're capped. buttoned up tight and secure behind that cloud of vague despair that's hung over her head the past two days. poof — and gone. though while the crackle of intensity across the bridge in their thoughts has faded, it's not all ease and casual shrugs yet. clarke holds her shoulders too tightly wound for that, and speaks with weight. )

If it could help, then yes.

( help is a malleable word. if it could help the newcomers know what they're up against and help keep everyone on their toes and alive, then yes. later, if it could help ease the pain of another, or provide a healthy distraction for a single person having a very hard time, she's no problem dredging up specific memories and painting pictures of what few happy memories she holds. and if not — )

What's your name?

( — then small talk. )

[detestable]

[ The ease with which Clarke reels her emotions back in is exactly what Seth wants to be capable of doing. Just knowing it's possible gives Seth something concrete to work toward. Obvious belligerence isn't going to be workable forever. (Or is it?) He'll need a long term solution, and preferably one he can cultivate on his own.

For all Clarke's offer of helping, Seth balks at the idea of taking her up on it. She's just a kid, like Elena's just a kid. That rules her out when it comes to problem solving. ]

Seth Gecko.

[ When was the last time he ever had to introduce himself? Was it even necessary here? ]

You?

[skaikru]

Clarke Griffin. ( she kicks out her name like it's inconsequential, interest suddenly piqued and distractedly scanning the crowd. it might not be in the notorious fashion seth's accustomed to, but she's heard that surname before, just a little while ago. and once she picks out richard in the crowd, from the loosely familiar color of his robes if not the rather uncomfortable presence of his mind — loud in the newness of the connection — she jerks her chin his way. )

Any relation?

[detestable]

[ That's another question Seth has never really had to answer. The Gecko brothers had always been a package deal. Exactly how each of them were known as might differ (Sonja's voice husking: I hear Richie's the crazy one.) but they were always identified one after the other. ]

Yeah. My brother.

[ The answer is run through with complicated emotions. Pride, affection, exhaustion, wariness, all those things bleed into the words. Seth can't cap them. ]

He already introduce himself, or you just hear him through the grapevine?

[ Which is apparently how Seth's going to be referring to the mental link for the moment. ]

[skaikru]

We met.

( and while the subject of their conversation might not have struck her as crazy, there was something off about him. the empathetic twist in her gut, his concerning lack of fear for their situation — who wasn't scared here? or maybe a better question is who would be honest about their anxiety instead of buckling up under the guise of determination and action? and while standing beside seth doesn't jumpstart another round of hunger pangs, if she thinks about it hard enough clarke reasons she can spot the similarities between the two strangers.

both balked under the offer of her concern and assistance. brothers, huh? )

You're lucky. Most of us don't have any family here.

[detestable]

[ There's no point in looking at her face, but Seth's gaze cuts over to Clarke anyway. The tone of her voice had felt like a red flag of some kind. Seth can feel the old kneejerk urge towards defensiveness rise in him, even though Clarke's barely said anything at all. ]

Yeah, well, we're a package deal.

[ Though it's been a while since Seth has said that where Richie could hear. ]

But I wouldn't say getting stuck on this gig is lucky.

[ More like a last resort. Had any of them had another option other than to sign up? ]

wrapped like a belated christmas gift

[skaikru]

( they could have stayed. and died. but at least stayed and maybe not be left to wonder which would have been more beneficial to those they left behind. there's an air of deflation every time clarke brings herself to consider the alternatives — the could have, should have, would have beens, the definition of the right choice and lucky — and a similar weight settles around her shoulders now, the desire to push the fact he was lucky to have someone he was close to warring with the creeping idea that they're all doomed no matter what. )

No, it isn't.

( as a result even her voice sounds pinched and tired. and clarke very abruptly wants to be done with this conversation, so much so she doesn't wait for an easy out. nope, there is a brief nod of acknowledgment, a curt — ) Excuse me. ( — and she's peeling back out into the crowd, back towards the sleeping tents before the swirling mass of negativity and poor luck threatens to overflow and impress her emotions upon seth in that visceral fashion he'd so politely declined. )