station72 | [mission: hyrypia] hey kid wanna see a dead body

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[mission: hyrypia] hey kid wanna see a dead body

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: The Second Flight
WHEN: DAY :021 - DAY :022
SUMMARY: Leaving the Graze and flying over the Finger Maze. [insert Psycho music cue here]
WARNINGS: Corpses. Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

HYRYPIA - THE SECOND FLIGHT
DAY :021

I. ALLLL ABOARD
THE SOUND OF HORNS has become familiar in your time on Hyrypia, but the low drone seems out of place here in the great open space of the main hall of the Second’s Flight. The space here is fantastically and beautifully ornate, the pale polished wood floors and rich dark paneling strangely reminiscent of sand and stone, loamy earth and some rich, dense forest not native to the arid lands of this planet. The space seems to dare the sky to claim it, acting out some daring violation of delivering the earth into the heavens. The twin heads of House Tyrisson are equally lavish both in their appearance and welcome. Two brothers, draped in elaborate pastel fabrics and glinting with enough metal accents to put the ornate robes of Seconds to shame, they trade a short speech back and forth between them:

"Once, our ancestors would have travelled the depths and turns of the Finger Maze in an effort to follow the footsteps of the First. Luckily, we don't live in such dangerous times; the gifts of the First and this planet we call home have allowed us to grow up out of our desperation. Consider this comfort our gift to you and enjoy your time on the Second Flight."

A band strikes up the moment the Tyrisson twins take their seats and you are left to your own devices. So much for living simply.

II. A MURDER MOST FOUL
A SCREAM PIERCES THE SILENCE of the saunas. The low sound of gently flowing water and the soft piped music seems to fade to nothing in the wake of the raw, terrified noise. Unsurprisingly, it draws immediate attention as a horrified Descendant practically falls into the arms of the servant that comes to his aid. The outburst is easily forgiven as word travels like lightning through the ship.

There has been a murder - or rather, two murders. Two bodies, damp with humidity and beginning to give of a distinctly unpleasant smell, have been found in one of the hot bath grottos. The mineral water they've been soaking in has reverted from a milky white to a terrible, blood rust brown.

And while it's unlikely that any Carbauschians were sharing the pool with them (robes make for unpleasant waders), the dryer albeit stiflingly hot areas of the conjoined saunas are such a communal meeting places that it wouldn't be out of the realm of imagination that one or two Hosts might be nearby… Regardless, news travels quickly and the chilly atmosphere that descends over the Second Flight is palpable. A horrific hunting accident is one thing, but murder? That's something else altogether.

HYRYPIA - THE SECOND FLIGHT
DAY :022

III. A SORDID AFFAIR
TO SAY that the atmosphere is somewhat tense is an understatement. It seems that everyone has something to say about the murders- but these things are said tersely, in whispers under the breath, with darting eyes and suspicious glances, and security- once hidden, secret- is now easily visible. They can be found at the entrance of each of the broad areas, patrolling down the paths that run alongside the outer walls of the Envoy’s cabins- never intruding, but ever present. Still, there seems to be an insistence that it will be dealt with by a member of the Tyrisson protectorate guard - Detective Savela, a hard-nosed, serious woman who seems not to want any assistance - and that the guests should continue to enjoy themselves. The bands still play, the games are ever present. Of course, those that are enterprising may wish to try poking around, instead.

IV. THE SHOW MUST GO ON
MURDER SCHMURDER-- In what's very clearly an effort to retain some sense of normalcy, an elaborate meal is served late on Day :022. The dishes are so complex that might as well be show pieces of their own, the music has an air of desperation, and the display of technomancy from a pair of Seconds is so delicate and ornate - centering almost entirely on a cloud of small metal coins that shifts shape constantly to illustrate scenes from the famous epic poem The Arion throughout the course of the dinner - that under any other circumstances it might be a singularly memorable moment.

Unfortunately, the palpable sense of suspicion between the envoy factions persists and the temper of the room is anything but celebratory. Late in the evening when most people have retired from the stifling atmosphere, a scuffle breaks out between some Meradan bodyguards and a clutch of Carpathan servants.

HYRYPIA - THE SECOND’S FLIGHT
DAY :023

V. A FAREWELL TO ARMS
THE ENGINES ever-present hum ticking down an octave is the first sign that the Flight has almost reached its destination. By the time the servants are politely knocking on the entrances of the berthings, the new dawn reveals that the cliffs and the winding passages of the Finger Maze have finally fallen behind the ship. The land here consists of rocky, relatively bare hills and is accented only with occasional short, sparse woody tree and straggly clumps of red grass. From somewhere in the distance, salt touches the wind. The Second Flight lands, setting gently down into the trough between two hills. Its now familiar gangplank extends, ready to send the Pilgrims again out onto the road.

((OOC Notes: This log covers days :021 and :022 on the Second Flight. A log will be posted for the walk on DAY :023 and the arrival at the Red Coast. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information to find setting information for the Second Flight. 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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The support's needed, Richard can't pretend otherwise, but irritation still bites at that need. The sudden concern itself, there's something funny in that. Seth caring about his dietary requirements now he gets to feel them from the inside.]

You know that something isn't gonna be the culebra bullshit you prefer dealing with.

[Dryly flippant even as he lets Seth brace him, thoughts pettily snagging on the we in Seth's comment. Seth usually only acknowledged this shit when it was useful, a working part of a plan. Richard just needing to eat, that didn't get discussed.]

Yeah, well, it's not like I have a choice right now, do I?

[ Petty rejoinders aren't going to help their situation, but Seth can't help himself. Richie's right. Seth's uncomfortable, and he'd have preferred to ignore Richie's hunger pains. It's how they'd been operating, but business as usual wasn't going to cut it. ]

And you aren't going to have a lot of options.

[ Either they ask a favor (a big favor) or they unleash Richie on some poor fuck they minute they can find a dark corner. Which poses an immediate problem, since this brand of alien didn't seem fond of dark corners. ]

I know, Seth. What do you think, I haven't been working on it since we got here?

[Alone, because we hadn't occurred as a choice. Telling Seth he needed a hand getting a bite would've just been a recipe for a few disgusted looks and friendly remarks about bloodsuckers before he actually, begrudgingly, helped.]

It wasn't meant to be a problem yet.

[Tacked on, resentful of this weakness and how it was showing him up, making him seem incapable of handling himself. Again.]

[ Richie is, unfortunately, correct. Snippy remarks about culebra are Seth's go-to method to mask his discomfort. That certainly hasn't changed, and Seth's guilt about is minimal at this moment in time. ]

It was going to be a problem eventually.

[ Because Richie has always responded so well to people telling him what he already knows. ]

Look, what's the play here? What the fuck do you usually do?

[ Not that Seth wants to know. It's very clear that he resents having to ask as he hustles Richie along the hallway, striding towards what he assumes by the flow of foot traffic is towards wherever they're supposed to be bunking. ]

[Seth doesn't want to know. Richard doesn't need a line into his head to know that. He could've asked any time, back home, but he didn't, and that's indication enough. Between the resentment emanating off him and the aching gnaw of hunger in Richard's stomach, he doesn't feel like dragging up the last time he'd fed is going to be anything but a reminder he could do without.]

Seeing as I don't usually have to deal with aliens and being stuck in more layers than a fucking mummy, I don't think looking at what I usually do is gonna provide you any helpful fucking insights.

[If Seth was going to be able to help at all. The longer this conversation goes on, the more Richard's starting to think it's a bad idea.]

Edited 2017-11-15 21:51 (UTC)

How about you let me decide what's going to give me a helpful fucking insight, Richard. [ Seth hisses out, agitated.

Having to drag this information out of Richie isn't doing anything to soothe Seth's temper. Thinking of how Richie went about feeding wasn't something Seth had ever planned about doing. At this point, he's thinking about how much easier it would be to just grab the nearest alien and Richie and shut them in the fist closet he comes across. ]

I use the bar, alright?

[He could leave it there. Let Seth assume it was just like The Twister, bringing in anyone who happened to stop along the road to be slaughtered. But if he's doing this, he might as well go all in.]

A lot of talk comes through. Sometimes it's rumours, sometimes they have big mouths. Just can't shut up about what they did to their wives and families. Hitchhikers. Kids. How they're getting away with it.

[Even the thought of it has a cold disgust rising. Layers of it, from the shallow dislike for their personalities through the professional disdain for not being able to keep from flapping their gums, right down to the deep. The curdling stuff that sticks in his guts for days.]

So I stop them getting away with it.

[Blunt, matter of fact. It isn't some kind of vigilante justice shtick, making himself out like a hero. It's an answer to a necessity. The only decent answer.]

[ Initially, all Seth has is tired disdain. Richie turned Jed's into the Twister, and Seth shouldn't fault him, except he does. Or he would have, if Richie hadn't kept talking. The truth of how Richie feeds complicates everything. Seth's disdain ebbs into a snarled mess that eventually settles on guilt as he realizes what Richie's chosen food source has saddled him with.

(It's hard not to think of their father; this is not the first time in their lives that Richie has decided on a very final solution to an ugly problem.)

Maybe he should be happier that his brother isn't making meals of innocent folks stopping in for a drink. But it's hard to accept that silver lining when he thinks about Richie caught between a rock and a hard place, and Seth unable to solve the problem. Food had been a difficulty when they were young, but they're long past the point where Seth can lift groceries from the corner store for them both. ]

Fuck. Alright, fine, we don't have time to prop you up by a bar and let you get that operation off the ground. We need another plan.

[ Focusing on the immediacy of the problem is easier than trying to sort out exactly what kind of response he should have to what Richie's telling him. ]

[The urge to pry into the mixed wash of Seth's emotions is strong. Dive in, pick them apart, trace them back to the meat and the root. Lay out all the pieces of Seth's reaction like a diagram to be studied.

But Richard knows most of it already. The pieces he doesn't, he's happy enough looking away from right now; already feeling too exposed, weak and stupid with the hunger twisting a fist in his middle. Irritation's easier. And Seth stating the obvious, again, draws a simple target.]

If I knew what we were dealing with, I'd have one.

[The whole point of how he'd ended up like this in the first place. If he could just deal with this like he did at home, he'd have fed by now. But in case Seth still hasn't figured out the depth of unknowns they're in the middle of:]

I don't even know if I can bite these people or if they bleed green and fucking purple. Not to mention that we just got on a magic alien plane. I drop a drained body in here, I don't think we're getting off it again.

[Frustration at absolute peak. He hates not knowing shit.]

Then don't drop a drained body.

[ The pair of them are just looping frustration onto frustration. What they need is action, and Seth can see a clear course ahead of them. It's just a matter of making sure Richie gets what he needs without anyone getting killed. Seth's track record in making that happen has been spotty at best since Richie busted him out of jail, which only means he's due for a win. He hustles Richie further down the hall as the plan forms in his mind, momentarily laid bare. ]

Jut—stay here. We can figure out if they bleed in technicolor after I grab one for you.

[ Some distant undercurrent: Don't be so fucking picky. Blood is blood, isn't it? ]

What? [Incredulity immediate for almost everything Seth's just said. Grabbing an alien without having a plan in place. Feeding on someone without leaving them dead.] I've never done that, Seth.

[Sharp, perhaps a little frantic. Kisa's apparent epiphany about the benefits of human companionship had happened very notably after she'd broken away from Richard. Everything she'd taught him had been based on a foundation of bloody, devastating violence, emphatic that he would learn not to care even as she chafed against his rule of no civilians. Biting without killing, without turning, that hadn't been in the lesson plan. He isn't sure he can run a learn as you go moment on it now, especially with how hungry he is.]

[ Seth's emotions spike at that confession. Even knowing what he knows now about Richie's feeding habits, Seth still balks when he considers the amount of bodies Richie must have left behind him. Quickly, he cuts off that train of thought. He can't see Richie's face through the veils, but he still pats his cheek with a gloved hand as he tries to reassure Richie. ]

I'll pull you off before you drain them, alright?

[ Maybe Seth's overestimating his ability to curb Richie's appetite once he gets teeth into someone. ]

Come on, there's no way this could be any worse than Montgomery.

[ It could, if they screw it up. But Seth's not going to acknowledge the potential for failure. ]

[As distractions go, it's a good one. Richard's swiftly and effectively derailed from the whole grocery list of ways Seth pulling him off of a feed wouldn't work by the evocation of Montgomery. The incredibly unwanted memory of it.]

You want to run Montgomery here?

[He could see the pieces. Shoving them into place would be forcing a square peg into a round hole, but they'd fit. That didn't mean it would work.]

That was a shitshow on the ground. We're in a fucking plane.

[And the vital difference, where Richard hadn't been a blood drinking creature of the night needing a meal.]

We're out of options. [ Seth tells him bluntly. ] You think you can wait until we land?

[ Even if Richie answered yes, Seth wasn't going to allow it. He doesn't know what happens if Richie goes too long without feeding and he isn't interested in finding out. Seth pushes Richie back two steps into what might be a broom closet or might be for luggage. Either way, it's the right size to fit Richie in. ]

Now shut up and get your fangs out.

[ At which point Seth just slams the door. They're committed. This is how it's going to be.

It's actually easier to lure an unsuspecting passerby on the airship than it had been in Montgomery. Lexa was right about the grief giving them leverage; the servant Seth accosts practically leaps into action before Seth finishes his near-hysterical solicitation of help. The story's flimsy, but the alien isn't bothering to check him on it. When they get the closet, Seth shoves their mark (it has to be a mark, not a victim, it has to be.) in, then closes the door behind the three of them. ]

Get to work, Richie.

[Richard doesn't have room to protest. He's abruptly in a closet, a move that might not have been so successful on Seth's part if Richard wasn't already weakened by hunger, leaning on Seth for balance. He has to catch himself on the closet wall to keep from stumbling, then the door's shut and he's stuck in Seth's crazy, bullshit plan.]

He's going to blow this whole amateur fucking operation.

[Talking to himself in the dark, irritation peaking. This was a major fuck up waiting to happen. They'd barely been down here two days, already seen that one of the number had died, and now Seth was going to screw them all over with this kind of reckless, sloppy work.

Unless Richard could wrench it into something better. Straighten it out. Plug the gaps, seal over the edges. Jaw tight, hunger a constant twisting ache in his stomach, he takes a breath. Starts to think out the lines of the mess Seth is about to make.

By the time the door opens again, he's ready. His glove's off, hand out, and before the servant even has time to express confusion he has his eye pressed to their forehead, the tug of power pulling as he speaks.]

Stay still and quiet.

[Their eyes cloud. Any protests die in their throat. There's a pinch of something like regret for the confusion lingering in their expression, but Richard just passes Seth his watch, reaches up to pull his headwrap off.]

Memory serum wipes ten minutes. [He points at the watch. The timer is already ticking down from seven.] Three minutes for you taking them, leaves five for me to finish, two for us sticking them and getting the fuck out of here.

[As he lifts the servant's arm, rolls their sleeve up. The hunger only seems worse now, looking at exposed flesh, knowing that feeding is only a second away. But he holds, looking at Seth. Has to make sure he's locked in.]

Got it?

[ The downside to this operation catches up to Seth abruptly. Now he has to stand here and time Richie's feeding session. Logically, it was absolutely necessary. Seth had to stay on hand to keep Richie from draining the servant Seth dragged in here for him. But the reality is sinking in slowly. Seth's thankful for the veils masking his expression. ]

I got it, I got it. Hurry up, will you?

[ The sooner they got this show on the road, the sooner they could stick this guy with the serum and get out of this closet. ]

I said I'd handle it.

[ Richie hunger is scorching, impossible to ignore no matter how much Seth wants to. His need to see Richie sate his hunger is all tangled up in being able to feel it so vividly and just wanting to provide for his bother. Seth can't even begin to separate the two. ]

[Seth's words don't land like the assurances Richard really wants, but they don't have the time to argue on it more, and Richard doesn't have the will. Fully acknowledged, supported and encouraged by the situation, his hunger surges like a force, limitless and unstoppable. He's still looking at Seth as his eyes slide golden and slit-pupiled. Then he looks to the servant's arm held tight between his hands, fangs dropping forward as he stretches his jaw open, lunges down to bite.

The satisfaction of blood on his tongue is blinding. Focus remains only in fragments, a mantra of don't turn, don't drain, pulling his fangs back from the wound even as he swallows his first mouthful. The urge to rip and rend and devour is only held back by the flow of liquid, his grip on the servant's wrist shifting and twisting like he could wring the blood out faster. Images, memories and sensations come as scattered, Richard letting them pass his grasp, only caring for the whole, the sweetness of a good soul, the warmth of fresh blood.

The feeling comes too soon. The sense of a circle about to be completed, a thread almost pulled entirely loose from the weave of its making. He stops, pulling back from the wound, sure that he must. Breathing hard, eyes unseeing, unable to understand why he has. It's unbearable. There's more to be had, free for the taking, the servant's arm still soft and warm in his hands.

He lifts his mouth, fangs unfurled to strike again. Finish it.]

[ Seth genuinely can't tell if it would be any easier to ignore what's happening if he were standing on the other side of the door. Richie's emotions are crippling. They wash over Seth like a tsunami. There's no blocking them. They're underscored by the way the transformation ripples across Richie's face. All Seth can do is watch it happen. Resentment stirs in the depths of his mind. Seth had wanted to be satisfied in providing a meal for his brother. It turns out that he has a hard time managing even that when he's dishing up something more complex than take out.

Despite his assurances, Seth almost lets Richie take the second bite. The deep-seated craving in Richie turns out to be something even Seth struggles to defy. He's been swept up, drawn in too closely and it's only the shock of fangs reemerging that shocks Seth into action. ]

Richie.

[ The outburst is accompanied by Seth's hands, one grabbing Richie's upper arm, the other freezing in an abortive move towards Richie's face. Too many teeth. Seth will take a pass. ]

Jesus, Richie, that's enough. Let him go.

[ The servant is wilting. There's no question about how much more he can stand to give. What Richie's gulped down is going to have to be enough for now. ]

[It's like a sharp stab of reality. Seth's voice saying his name, the grip on his arm. His mind lurches into the moment like being dragged out of a dream. He blinks, looking at his brother, the hand raised towards his face. Blinks again and his eyes fade blue, mouth closing.

The moment's too familiar. It's Seth in the desert, telling him to drop the dog he didn't remember picking up. Seth in the motel room, staring at the tableau he'd made of the bank teller's body (Monica. Her name was Monica). He can't see Seth's face, but for a second he still searches for it in the fabric of the veils he's wearing, needing to know. Needing connection. Fully expecting rejection.

But he can't see either. And they don't have time. He looks to the servant again. Eyes still clouded, weak on their feet, still alive. A quick hand into the folds of his robes and he has the pin in his grip, reaching to jab it into their neck. Holding their weight as they drop slack.

He checks the wound before he pulls their sleeve back into place. Two dark punctures, clean. There's the idea of asking Seth how long the bite from Kisa had taken to heal, but frustration holds it blocked. Curling tight and dark in his throat. Standing, pulling his head wrapping into place, turning to push out of the closet, all heavy, sharp motions.]

[ Richie's mind flashes through incidents Seth remembers (how could he forget?) and hasn't thought of in months. It's better for both of them that he doesn't start thinking of them now. The last thing Richie need is any hint of how terrified Seth had been as he'd watched Richie fall apart in slow motion right in front of him. It's probably just as bad as Richie sensing the revulsion and low-simmering fear at what his brother's become percolating in Seth's mind.

Instead, the cursory clutch of Richie's mind finds momentary purchase. Seth wants to touch his face, slap his cheek, pound his back until the uncertainty in Richie's expression (and mind, really) fade away. But as they slam the door and fall into step together, the best Seth can do is keep his hold on Richie's arm. His fingers are digging in hard enough to bruise. It can't be helped. Seth has all this adrenaline and nothing to do with it but walk away from the scene of the crime. ]

You good now?

[ It's a little clipped, voice tight with anxiety. Seth doesn't know how he's supposed to handle this now. ]

See, you can could handle it. [ Is there a good way to say that he's proud of Richie for not murdering some poor fuck Seth dragged into that closet for him? ] Not a problem.

[That's all it takes. Seth says not a problem and the tight held coil of anger in Richard erupts, turning on his brother, shoving him off and back.]

I told you I couldn't do it.

[It's too loud. They don't want to attract any undue attention regardless, but especially not three metres away from the closet with the passed out, inexplicably anaemic and amnesiac servant inside. But that same servant had almost died. Richard would have done it, hadn't had a true thought in his head against it. Just instinct, and hunger, and no way to control either, to even have the sense to try.]

[ Richie's anger cracks back along the connection, supplanting Richie's shove. The urge to shove back rises immediately before Seth catches and crushes it. This isn't the time to descend into an argument even if Seth would like nothing better than to yell back at Richie.

He forgets how much he hates what Richie's been transformed into sometimes. Seth hadn't even realized how easy it had been to ignore it when he hadn't been treated to a front row seat to Richie's meals. He wants to yell about having to be so close to distract from how unsettling it had been to feel what feeding had done to Richie's consciousness. The animal instinct that had risen between them lives in Richie all the time. Seth doesn't appreciate the reminder of it any more than he appreciates Richie refusing to let him try to smooth over the haphazard move they'd just pulled. ]

Hey. [ Seth snaps out, a catch-all objection while he tries to come up with a rebuttal that isn't incriminating. ] It worked out, didn't it? You're really going to complain about your meal now?

[ If this were any other job, Seth would have talked about working on their approach and fine-tuning it. But he doesn't want to talk about this anymore right now. He wants to go find the bar and take a break for a minute to attempt to process what they've just done rather than argue the fine points of it with Richie in front of any alien that wandered by. ]

No, Seth. [The outburst falling back into clipped words, one pointed gesture. It working out isn't good enough, but Seth doesn't get it. Like Richard can just ignore the total loss of control because Seth had been there to knock him out of it. Seth who was doing nothing but exuding resentment and revulsion now.] I'm going to complain about you getting involved in shit you don't understand.

[Doesn't want to understand. Richard had even warned him that this was the kind of culebra bullshit he didn't like dealing with, but they'd still ended up here. Richard turns, starts walking again.]

You want to stay out of it, stay out of it. Don't try giving me any help again.

[ Even resentment-filled and rattled, Seth takes affront to what he perceives as being side-lined. There's only a half-beat of pause before Seth's back on Richie's heels. ]

And what? Let you go all Thirty Days of Night on these people next time?

[ There's an unspoken snap in Seth's mind: don't tell me what I don't understand. ]

[He's turning back at that. Turning on Seth as easy as if he'd never broken off to start walking away in the first place, anger a rising, sharp thing in the lines of his body.]

That's what you think this is gonna be? [Shoving him again. And again, back into the wall, pinning him one arm against the collar. They shouldn't be doing this here, but then, Seth shouldn't be pushing him. Seth shouldn't be involved in the first place, if he's going to act like Richard's five seconds away from slaughtering everyone.] I'm your brother, not some rabid animal that needs to be kept on a leash.

[Leaned in close like he could stare him down through the veils. But he can't. One course of connection closed, he picks up another, full force.]

( You don't let me do jack. )

[mission: hyrypia] hey kid wanna see a dead body

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