[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

[otrazhenie]

[ Seeing Gil like this hurts, knowing how frustrated and awful he's feeling right now hurts Elena, but even through that -- she feels Damon approaching and it's like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. There are just seconds between her world brightening and his arrival, but when she turns to look over her shoulder at him, there's not a trace of guilt at the situation she's been caught in. She's helping a friend, there's nothing to be guilty about. She still explains, of course. ]

Gildor isn't feeling well, we're trying to make him more comfortable. Could you help hold him up while I get a few more layers off?

[ If Gil doesn't recognize Damon's voice, he'll doubtlessly put it together with that surge of affection and love from Elena. ]

[perroquet]

[ Accepting help from Elena, a beloved broodmate, is one thing. But Elena opens the invitation to Damon too, and honestly? Gildor isn't a fan of the idea. He hasn't paid him any attention since he was rudely interrogated. Aside from teasingly questioning Elena's status with him every once in a while, he's hardly a thought in his mind. Or at least, he tries to keep it that way despite Elena's ever blossoming young love for him.

Now he can feel Damon standing at the base of the cot, boots heavy against the carpeted ground, witnessing this moment of weakness he's stuck in. It leaves a bitter taste in Gildor's mouth. Or maybe that's just his lunch coming up again. ]

It's quite alright, I don't think I need two helpers at the moment-

[ His mind was almost relaxed, but now he's on panicky alert again, attempting to divert attention. Deflect, deflect. ]

You know, despite the day's events, I've hardly had the chance to tell any good funeral stories. Would you like to hear one?

[blooded]

❰ damon isn't all that open to the rest of the nest — he keeps his shields up around everyone but sam and elena, to varying degrees of efficacy — but even he can feel that gildor is uncomfortable with his presence. if this were any other time, he might press just to be a shit, but... funeral. he's feeling a bit more forgiving than usual. ❱

I think you're doing just fine, Elena, ❰ he says, with an affectionate brush against her mind to let her know he's not refusing out of shittiness. instead, he goes to recline on one of the cots, propping his head up so that he can still see the both of them. ❱

This should be fun. Do tell, kiddo.

[otrazhenie]

[ The moment she gets a sense of Gildor's discomfort with the idea, she regrets asking, and then finds herself grateful that Damon seems to have picked up on it too. It baffles her sometimes that, despite all of them being connected, so few people in the Nest seem to have any sense of who Damon really is. (Not that he probably makes it all that easy for them.)

She hesitates for a moment before pushing her own feelings about funerals deep down under her shields where even Gil won't easily sense them, then sends a bit of encouraging affection to her broodmate. ]

Go ahead. [ She'll tug off another layer while he talks. ]

[perroquet]

[ Kiddo. Though he doesn't face Damon, his expression sours at the belittling word. ]

First, I'll have you know I am just a year shy of a century old. A kiddo I am not...

[ He feels the rest of his cloak sliding off his shoulders and tries to help by sitting himself up again, though now he's grumbling as he does. Grumbling that continues until Elena sighs for him to go ahead, which he does soon as he's lying back down again. ]

A very important part of life back in Henge is death. Anywhere else in our world you die, and that's the end of it. But in Henge, especially 'round the old parts still ruled by kings and queens, when somebody dies we lay them out and watch them for a couple of days... just in case.

[ A pause for dramatic irony. ] I jest. But we do, and it's a big party. A send off and a celebration with lots of food and drink, not so unlike the one tonight.

[ Minus one corpse hanging out on a table for everyone to view. ]

[blooded]

❰ ...he's bothered by implications that he's young. how precious. ❱

I'm 171, pal, everyone here is a kid to me.

❰ which makes his relationship with elena weird, kind of, but whatever. she knows what he means, and that she's not a kid to him, any needling gildor wants to do won't matter.

his story reminds damon of a tradition from mystic falls, and damon looks to elena with a smile. ❱

Reminds me of that "Day of Remembrance" shit. You guys still do that? With the bells?

[otrazhenie]

[ Well, doesn't she feel young. Elena's never really stopped to think about Gildor's age, or the fact that Damon is nearly twice that age. It doesn't really matter, of course, not when their lives are this complicated, and she certainly hasn't been fazed by anyone's age in the past so that's not going to change now. ]

Yeah, we do. Well, it's not really what it used to be, it's kind of just an excuse for copious amounts of drinking now, but we still ring the bells.

[ And the ones who have lost people still remember them. A shadow crosses her thoughts at that and she hurriedly waves it aside, refusing to think of Alaric, or Jenna, or her parents. This isn't the time for that, she isn't the focus here. ]

[perroquet]

Any excuse for copious amounts of drinking.

[ Muttered as he once again swallows back a bout of nausea, now mixed with a sense of nervousness. That age suggests Damon is also a vampire, and while he trusts Elena, he's not yet sold on Damon.

He'll chase that nervousness down with jokes. ]

I'm not sure we have anything similar to ringing bells for the dead, but we do have a custom for the dying. A dying person is allowed a question, which must be answered in complete truth. Otherwise the soul is damned and cannot be reincarnated.

[ Grim jokes. ]

There was once a man from my village, lying on his deathbed. He went peacefully, surrounded by family, which is the ideal way isn't it? He had two sons who were the strongest, biggest men you've ever seen, and one who was oddly thin, a little runt of a man. As he lay dying, he said to his wife-

'Love, are you there love?'

'Yes love, I'm here,' she said.

'I'm going now,' he said, 'it's going dark.' [ He imitates a frail voice and takes Elena's hand dramatically. ]

'I know,' his wife said, 'don't hang about too long now.'

'I'm going to ask you- I'm going to ask the question,' he said, 'Tell me now- tell me honestly- is that skinny little runt standing at the foot of the bed really my son?'

'Yes,' his wife replied, 'Honest to the gods yes, he truly is your son.' And with that answer in his heart, he knew the truth and went to the next life peacefully with the promise of reincarnation.

His wife sighed with relief and whispered, 'Thank the gods he didn't ask about the other two.'

[blooded]

❰ damon hasn't tried to hide his species since the first month he was on the station, so that gildor doesn't already know he's a vampire — well. it's kind of funny, honestly. why does he think lakshmi hates him and elena so much? ❱

Th ringing the bell shit started off because sometimes, people would be buried prematurely. Not often, but enough so that when it seemed like it might be in question, the dead were buried with bells attached to strings over their graves. The string to the bell went into the coffin, and if the prematurely buried rang it, you knew you done fucked up.

Nowadays it's just an excuse to have picnics in cemeteries and ring bells for dead loved ones.

❰ #thesouth. damon listens to gildor's story, his eyebrow climbing up his forehead as he does — what a stupid ritual, what a stupid belief — and then he gets to the punchline and damon can't help it, he huffs out a laugh. ❱

That was a stupid story.

❰ but he doesn't sound too bothered by it. ❱

[otrazhenie]

[ Elena's mood is slowly beginning to darken, those storm clouds rolling back in as she can't help but think of all the bells she would need to ring at the next Remembrance Day. Would she ever be able to 'enjoy' the day again the way the rest of Mystic Falls does, with food and alcohol? Will she be able to look past the rows of gravestones bearing the names of people she loves?

She tries to shake away those thoughts, but all that's left to hold on to is Gildor's story, about more death and yet another funeral. Still-- ]

It's a nice custom, though.

[ Giving the dying a chance at closure, even if they don't always ask the right questions. What would she have asked, if she'd been given the chance? Or Damon and Stefan? Her parents? Jenna and Alaric?

This isn't supposed to be about her, she came here to help Gildor, but she worries now that she isn't hiding her emotions very well, that there might be cracks showing through her facade. It's been a very long day, after all. ]