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

[onemind]

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 )

Comments

[miscreant]

SECOND FLIGHT

[Leaving the ground was not a particularly pleasing moment for Seviilia, who had once again begun accustomed to being there. She found herself pining for the elin, however false of a simacrulum they might have been. But, being who she was and understanding the nature of things, she doesn't both to voice how disgruntled she is -- it will be evidence enough in the mental connection wafting between her and other's.

There was a lot to be said for comfort, but Seviilia was not feeling particularly comfortable. There is a distinct unpleasantness about her in the main hall -- more than usual, as her ears settled backwards under her many veils. The sound in the room was awful to her sensitive hearing, and she couldn't quite figure out why.]

( I don't suppose anyone else is feeling slightly claustrophobic? )

[That, of course, wasn't entirely true; Seviilia wasn't phobic of anything. However, she could recognize that it was probably closer to what others were feeling from her.]


MURDER

[The energy brought to the Second Flight as a result of the murder immediately puts Seviilia on edge -- not because she had felt her life might be in danger, but because of all the various bits and bobs that were associated with an assassination.

She could smell the blood from any corner of the ship, and it widened the ever-present pit in her stomach and shared it (and the pain of starvation that came with it) with the rest of the hivemind.

Needless to say, she was more than ready to be on the ground. The murder itself, while curious and interesting on its own, was merely a gross inconvenience.]

( I don't suppose anyone knows anything about all of that? )

[She has a sneaking suspicion that is not actually the case -- her tone is slightly accusatory.]


WILDCARD

[HIT ME. or plurk/pm me.]

[skaikru]

I. we’re going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship ( berthings | open | day 21 )

( witness: a moody teenager doing moody teenager things, like staring out a window in silent contemplation.

okay, it isn’t all bad. despite the semi-constant cloud of doom and gloom that seemed to circle clarke’s head like she’d acquired her own gravitational pull, after the last few days of leaking grief, frustration, and exhaustion indiscriminately, it’s all gone relatively quiet. retreated to a hazy, distant static; a channel that, if tuned into, only offered white noise. what may have begun as kneeling up by the pillow of her bed, arms folded against the small sill, and staring through the thick glass with a sense of childlike wonderment at the ground drifting by below them has shifted into just… staring out the window at the ground drifting by below them. the hues of orange dust and pink coral, all bathed in the bright red sunlight looked different without the obstruction of their veils. a tad brighter, and all the prettier for it.

but staring too long at the intricate groves that were the expanse of the maze threatened to dredge up recent memories of standing atop the maze itself — all hot sun, cooler breezes, the excitement of the hunt below, and the death.

whenever her thoughts stray too close to old wounds of any variety, clarke takes a long, sweeping inventory of the souls in their sleeping quarters. it’s different, so many bodies in the same room, and so many bare faces; there are names and interactions to assign to people she’d never spoken to unobscured, and there were those who remained strangers. and maybe she’s staring a bit like an awkward creep, just this side of calculating and chilly.

catch her eye? or just come bother her while she’s mouth breathing all over the glass? )

II. lookin' pretty in a hotel bar ( forward cabin | open | day 21 )

( it’s only after the fourth time the same polite member of the waitstaff has asked her if she’d like a refreshment that clarke finally accepts. smiles, though it’s hidden, nods, and swiftly defers to the servers’ judgement about what is the best drink on the menu is.

turns out it’s a tall, lean glass with a smattering of spherical ice cubes, and a murky orange-brown liquid full of pulp. and alcohol. a lot of alcohol, enough that one unsuspecting sip has clarke smothering a coughing fit behind one hand, and gesturing desperately for a glass of water with the other. but it isn’t so bad, and pairs quite nicely with the elegant alien-cheese platter. clarke takes a better part of an hour to drain her cup, watered dregs and all, and then returns to staring out the windows of the viewing deck. her thought process is simplified:

she’s never drifted so smoothly through the clouds, and surrounded by so much glass and the faint tinkling of chamber music it feels a lot like a dream. she’s never seen any landscape like this in her world, dry and expansive and uninterrupted by any signs of life. she misses trees. and her friends, both technically present and far removed through the universe.

it’s this swirl of nostalgia for when times were different (not necessarily easier, but different) mixing with a light buzz, she’s very eager — almost excitable — to hail down the next member of the nest that comes anywhere near her high table. )

Here, sit.

( there is a high chair on the other side of the small round table, which she now gestures toward invitingly. )

III. butts on butts on butts ( springs | open | day 22 )

( clarke griffin is partially clothed, wet, and v uncomfortable over here )

IV. conspiracy theories over space coffee ( main hall | open | day 22 )

( this is not her first cup of space coffee this evening. it isn’t even her second.

oh no, clarke griffin is halfway through her third cup of alien bean water, and can’t quite seem to get her leg to stop jittering under the table. sure, the food had been dainty and delicious, the music was lovely, the display of their host party’s techromancers was full of grace and downright magical. but everything paled in comparison to this dark, hot, liquid delicacy. even the buzz of grief in the air for the two bodies found yesterday took a backseat. it was sad, yes, but there's a distinctly selfish air of relief around clarke — at least this time, it wasn’t one of their own.

for once, she’s relatively chipper in comparison to the crowds around them at dinner. easy going and relaxed, by clarke griffin standards anyway.

and be it her constant underlying train of paranoia making a brief appearance, or maybe just the caffeine wearing on her brain to (brain) mouth filter, but clarke catches the attention of the nearest host, drags it up towards the front of the dining hall, where well dressed officials sat stoically, observing all the muted festivities. )

( Are they staring at us? More than usual. )

VI. wildcard motherfuckers!

( you know the drill, GET ON ME )

[wille]

001. I'M MUCH TOUGHER. DAY :021

[ Misato was among the first on the scene, having traced down the source of the scream like a bloodhound to prey, and she arrives just as the servants carry out the bodies out of the sauna. The heft and the distressed expressions on their faces betray what the layers and layers of cloth conceal, and she can pick up the stench of death even from here in the hallway, blocked off from the worst of it by a barricade of polite yet frustrated Tyrisson guards. She stays quietly watching, as close as allowed, far enough that the security won't shoo them away.

Only once both bodies have been carried out, and whispers of the suspected identities of the victims disperse among the curious crowd, does she reach to grab the nearest Carbauschian by the arm. To the outside eye, the gesture is one of distress, but her grip is forceful rather than pleading, her mind is a grounded pillar certain of her place. ]

( Which is worse, an accidental death or one that somebody wanted to happen? )

002. I DON'T NEED THE BUFFER. DAY :022

[ It's conspicuous even to someone like her, this attempt at reciting ancient poetry and presenting architectural marvels for dinner to distract from worse things. As it goes, the more one wishes to not think of something, the more the thought dominates. All these displays only serve to highlight the unusual state of the evening, the possibility of there being a murderer on the loose aboard a sealed ship, and the tension in the room is thick enough to eat with the spoon she drops onto her emptied plate with a clatter.

Few heads turn to her even as The Arion concludes in a tricked out marvel of technomancy, the sweat and tears of the orchestrator palpable from the overreaching, the overcompensation. She finds it painful to watch if only because it's so familiar. ]

I've got a dare for you. The Hyrypians are obviously bad at this, so let's help them out a little.

WILDCARD!

[ As it says on the tin! ]

( CLOSED TO SETH + NOVEMBER )

[ophidia]

[It's not something to be blindsided by. Surprised. It's a fact of life for Richard, a basic necessity, and suffering under it in the middle of the gathering listening to the Tyrisson's speech is fucking shameful. He'd thought the hunger was manageable, could be held off until he knew the terrain better, the opportunities available. Now that sounds like an excuse. Basic stupidity. Light-headed, near swaying on his feet, and the speech ending so quickly would be a relief if walking wasn't as much of a damn problem. His first step forward is practically a stumble, and his attention's directed downwards, inwards, focus narrowed tight, determined to keep his feet under him.]

cw: alcoholism

[sistershoggoth]

one more, on me -- wildcard for a mopey ass
[ The relative luxury of the ship has, in its way, only exacerbated her. The lack of distraction by way of the day to day ruggedness of their pilgrimage has left her without anything to keep her busy. The booze is even easier and more plentiful here on the ship. If she is not actively in the corner of the bar with her drinks and her hookah, she's in the berthings, asleep.

Her presence is subdued, a muddy puddle of obscure thoughts, none of them positive. Her sketch book, increasingly running out of clean paper to work on, is filling up with scratchy, dark scribbles, faces and eyes peering with disapproval from beneath long, beautiful hair. ]

[greentech]

Restricted Area (closed; for Elliot)

[ If there was one thing that Pidge absolutely had to see once they'd come aboard, it was the engine room. True, she'd had a shot to see what made an Elin tick, but a flying airship? That was a little too good for her to pass up. Getting down there was... well. Not the easy part, but being able to turn herself invisible was definitely a plus in terms of "not getting caught". The engine room itself was more than a little cramped and she had to be careful not to run into the engineers. She's puttering around in an out of the way corner, carefully doing her best to get a better look at some of the machinery when she realizes that there's someone skulking at the corner up ahead. For a moment she blinks and then she creeps forward, still invisible - until she realizes that she's coming face-to-face with another of the Nest. ]

Hey-

[ And she pops back into visibility. ]


Scuffle Truffle

[ She's not fond of the dinner party, especially in the rather oppressive atmosphere that's been left by the murder. Still, it's... better than sitting around and moping about it. Then again, she could be looking into those deaths or working on some sort of remote surveillance or - well, anything that wasn't watching slightly uncomfortable performances. It's still pretty quiet as far as things go. Another night on this long trip to... somewhere. It's getting late and Pidge is contemplating finally slipping off to bed. At least until that scuffle breaks out. Someone overturns a tray, something breaks and there's some raised voices and a struggling, shoving knot of robes.

Before she can really think too hard, Pidge gets involved (despite her small size), darting forward to try and drag a pair of people apart. ]

Hey, cut it out already-!

[ Someone give her some help before something unfortunate happens. ]


Wildcard!

[ The usual. ]

( CLOSED )

[wrackful]

( ANNIE )
[When he comes down to their berthing shortly after take off, it isn't an attempt to avoid any of the socialising or exploration going on. There's a very direct purpose in how he searches out his own pack of belongings, a sharp note of responsibility edging it, one that only dissipates as soon as he finds the med supplies and tech he'd brought down from the station still safely concealed where he'd left them. The sense of relief is mild, but he lets himself take a breath in it, just for a moment--

and then a piece of fruit smacks him on the side of the head.]

The hell was that for?

[He'd demanding it before he's even seen who did it, irate as he stands to turn on them.]


( BELLAMY )
[It's only been two days. Set down in comparison, it's nothing. He's gone months solid without seeing Bellamy, without seeing any of skaikru, and at the time it had suited him just fine. But at some point during the second night, woken from another nightmare, he'd realised this is the longest he's gone without seeing Bellamy since he'd been dropped down in Concordia.

It doesn't sit right. Gnaws at him like a burr he can't shake loose. Two days was more than enough for things to cool, for them to curl back on him, slide thin blades under the skin. All the feeling Bellamy had thrown back on him, and now the razor-thin sensation of the line between them. He'd barely managed to sleep, the second night. He doesn't want another night like that.

But it's luck, more than judgement. Coming down to the berthings as the evening's winding up, the right kind of time to start settling in for the night, but before the rest of the hosts have filtered down. All of them except one.]

Sucks, right? [Coming to stand at the bottom of the bed Bellamy's chosen, not waiting for an invitation or letting himself hesitate. He knows what'd happen if he did.] You switch tents to get away from us, then we all get stuck in the same room.

[Not that Murphy had even realised Bellamy had bailed on Lexa's tent until the next day, going back for his pack.]

[shiro2hero]

AROUND THE SHIP;
[Aside from checking in on people via mental link, he's mostly chosen to keep to himself. It tends to involve pacing around in an odd state of restlessness. He should be feeling more at ease -- back in the air and all. Maybe he'd feel better if he were flying.]

[He can be found mostly in THE FORWARD CABIN, staring out the viewing windows without much in the way of concern for the drop. Or surrounded by space caffeine cups in the MAIN HALL -- that habit is back in full force. Or, after the bodies, in the HOT SPRINGS, wrapped in towels.]


OH GOOD MORE DEAD PEOPLE;
(What happened?)

[As soon as the news breaks out, he's calling out to the others. To anyone within range. Reaching for familiar minds, first and foremost. There isn't the sense that anyone of theirs has been hurt, but after Lavellan...]

(Did anyone know them?)


FIGHT;
[For the most part, he'd been sticking to the edges of the various parties. Gatherings have never really ended all that well for him lately. So staying apart just makes more sense to him.]

[It gives him a good view of the ensuing scuffle, though. What's a bodyguard to do when other bodyguards start getting into it? Step in, of course. After a moment of staring into the distance and wondering why him.]

[In he wades, in an attempt to restore order -- a big, black-robed individual with a literal iron grip. Do you help? Or are you accidentally in the middle of it yourself?]


wildcard!
[Hit me up if you want anything more specific!]

[otrazhenie]

I { day :021 | main hall } and I tried to hold these secrets inside me

[ To say the Second Flight is beautiful is to do it an incredible injustice. The ship is magnificent, a masterpiece of technology that Elena doesn't understand and artistry that she can't begin to put into words. Just the sight of it makes her fingers itch for a pen, a sudden longing for the journal she'd once turned to daily to put down on paper all the maddening thoughts and happenings in her life. She has nothing like that here though, and so instead she's left to simply commit things to memory as best she can.

Starting with the main hall. The colors take her breath away, those dark and light shades resonating in her soul the way a painting might resonate with others. With the music wrapping around her from the temporary ballroom, Elena wishes desperately that she could shed her costume and take to the floor. She misses dancing, and that longing seeps through to any of the Nest who might be nearby. ]

II { day :022 | forward cabin } the house was awake, the shadows and monsters

[ It's not until the middle of the night that Elena finally makes her way to the Forward Cabin, sleep a distant thought while her thoughts whirl over so many things. Her new relationship with Damon, the possibility of ever getting home, Gildor's current comatose state, the ever-present danger of someone finding out about the Nest. Again she wishes for pen and paper, a tangible way to organize those thoughts and try to make sense of something, anything, but all she finds is more confusion and uncertainty while watching the dark expanse below.

Eventually, likely around the time she's on her third cup of 'coffee' as is getting tired of sitting at that table and is considering finally returning to the shared berthing, the sun will come up and both the world and her spirits will brighten. It's a spectacular sight to behold. ]

III { day :022 | closed to damon } i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones

[ At the time, it had been a bit surprising to Elena that Damon had so willingly agreed to watch over Gildor for her while she visited the hot springs, but in retrospect it wasn't really all that out of the ordinary for him. He'd grown so much over the year since he'd waltzed back into her life after that night on the road (the one they hadn't yet really discussed), but if something mattered strongly to her, he'd almost always supported her. So long as it didn't threaten her own life, he'd stood by her side, and he knows how much Gil means to her.

Still, she's so grateful, and that comes over their connection as she returns to the berthing they're sharing with the rest of the Nest. Once safely behind closed doors, she tugs off her veils and outer layers while making a beeline right for him. ]

IV { day :022 | host berthing } my mind's like a deadly disease

[ Gildor is her broodmate, but more than that, he's her friend. A good friend who has looked past what she is to see the person beneath. They've laughed together, danced together, helped each other through difficult moments. He let her feed from him despite his own aversion to blood. With all of that, it's only natural for her to watch over him while he sleeps, especially while so many of the others are off enjoying the hot springs. She'd taken her turn at relaxing for a short while, of course, but then she'd returned to relieve Damon of the duty she'd asked of him.

And now here she is, sitting on the floor next to the bed where her 'sleeping' broodmate lies, the connection between them dark and frayed. It's wearing away at her, her heart aching to have him smile at her again, to hear that music drifting through their link. The world is too quiet now, and she reaches up to wrap her hand around one of his, holding tight as if that might bring him back to her sooner. She can't allow herself to contemplate the possibility that he won't wake up at all. ]

V { day :022 | closed to lakshmi } and i couldn't stand the person inside me

[ At least she's not the only one worrying over Gil. For all the problems she and Lakshmi have had, still have, their shared affection for Gildor is not among them. The both of them care deeply for the bard and Elena finds some solace in knowing that the other woman would also do just about anything for their broodmate. So when Lakshmi returns from the hot spring, Elena rises from her spot beside the bed and offers the woman a small ghost of a smile. ]

Safe and sound. [ Just as he always should be. ]

[otrazhenie]

VI { day :022 | closed to noctis } i turned all the mirrors around

[ Normalcy. If that's what they're really going for, Elena's fairly certain they've missed the mark -- this dinner is anything but normal. With half the dishes, she's not even sure how to try to eat them, let alone what they might actually be, the strange seasonings and scents confusing to her enhanced senses. But still, she has to play the part, and so she takes small portions of various things and goes through the motions of eating, wondering yet again if she's tasting each morsel the way it actually is, or if her vampiric nature has changed the flavors.

The technomancy display is interesting, at least. Far more entertaining than the music, though the shifting coins in the air remind her of someone she misses dearly. Sipping on a glass of alcohol, she watches passively for a while before finally turning to a nearby host, someone she hasn't met yet, and remarks ]

( Can people do things like that where you're from? )