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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
[ rich coming from the thief, practically a purr as he leans in mentally just a little more. the sound is a sweep against the cheek with fondness that bubbles up just from the fact that sam is so willing to share something right off the cuff that brings him such joy at such a miserable time, it seems, for everyone who'd been settled in the nest prior to their arrival.
there's a sense of relief that washes over peter as they break past the opening of the tent, a breath of cooler air taken in as they put the barrier of it up against the world outside. he doesn't waste time in peeling away the costume as well, veil first with one hand, the other reaching into the folds and pulling out a pair of glasses that he settles onto the edge of his nose with another. dark hair shaken just slightly out of place with an errant piece curling just over his temple even after he starts to sort himself out.
he's winding his scarves, deep, dark red, over his arms as he steps further into the tent, tilting his head back with a little sigh of relief. ]
That's much better. Getting a bit stuffy under all of that.
no subject
[ Okay, no, there's no may about it - but this is also only the second time he's actually been able to joke about it, and the first time he's been able to say it playfully, teasing. He's definitely not gonna think too much into it, though he can't help the way his mind brushes fondly over Hadrian's.
His gaze is warm as he actually looks at the guy, sans disguise, giving a chuckle. ]
Tell me about it. Gotta say I'll be glad when we get to ditch these.
[ Like he's currently doing his best to do now, leaving himself in just the shirt and shorts he wears under them - but that's mostly so he can settle his wingpack on easier. He pushes aside a bundle of blankets and feathers to pick up it up, hooking it on with an easy, practiced motion - and snapping out his wings with an even easier motion, the slightest roll of his shoulders and flex of his back. ]
no subject
[ he sets most of the disguise down, giving long stretch after doing so. he leaves the last shift on, walking over to where sam is shrugging on the pack. it's a split second as the wings go out and peter moves out of its way with a smooth set of steps, the reaction on his face never once shifting from the thrill of seeing them even as stationary as they are. he leans in just a bit to have a closer look at the mechanism. he's no engineer, but he's made up of all kinds of curious parts, mind heating over with fascination that pings off itself over and over again. ]
I can't blame you for taking them back, these are incredible.
[ he lifts a hand and levels his eyes with sam's. he's tactile. you can't blame him for wanting to touch. his fingers are practically itching. ]
Could I?
[ asking for permission is not something peter nureyev does when it comes to putting his fingers on something he's fascinated by, but hadrian black is polite, so he will ask with an imploring smile to match. ]
no subject
And having someone else appreciate them is always a hell of a thing.
There's a curl of approval out across the mental links, a sense that honestly, Hadrian doesn't have to ask if he wants to go for physical contact, seeing as Sam's a pretty tactile guy himself, and he grins a little. ]
Hell yeah, go for it.
no subject
he tilts his head, examining the cut, the shape, the curve of each metallic pinion, a soft hum and then an impressed whistle studding his admiration, which is very much apparent between what's open of the link they share. he doesn't hesitate in stepping closer around him, first from the front, then from the side, a contact point always felt. it starts with wings, bridges a little over his shoulders - faint fingertips, bare between his shoulders, then back over the other wing until peter's gone full circle around him.
they really are impressive, and peter's seen a lot of things in his lifetime, in his universe.
the sweet little swell of pride that comes alongside them probably helps. ]
I almost regret seeing them now - now all I want is to see them in action.
no subject
Sam can't feel Hadrian's touch through the wings the way he could if they were flesh and real feathers - but they do have sensors that respond to pressure, temperature, air currents, and the faint grazes that do cross his skin only serve to heighten the sense of being touched.
It's a nice feeling, is all, and Sam could use it. He lets himself bask in it a little, lets himself have something good in all the shit that's going on, and tries not to feel guilty about it.
When Hadrian comes full circle, Sam gives a little quirk of a smile and tucks his wings in, curling them loosely around both himself and Hadrian and pressing lightly against Hadrian's back. ]
I'll take you up first chance we get. Promise.
no subject
he thinks about that dusty old tomb and he thinks about electricity winding all at once and the filtered air of a hotel room and a warm kiss and the barrenness that comes with waking up alone to the sounds of martian gridlock outside and for all the vacillating his emotions have done, this? feels nice. it's only proper give and take, this.
peter lifts his head up, looking over his glasses. ]
I hope you're prepared for me to hold you to that. It's not every day I get offered such a promising ride.